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starspatter · 6 years

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Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 6

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3,791 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Also on ff.net and AO3. In which Dick is surprisingly racist towards clones.

Two birds on a wire One says "come on" and the other says "I'm tired" The sky is overcast and I'm sorry One more or one less Nobody's worried

-Regina Spektor, "Two Birds"

Then.

Once their guest had left, Tim turned to Dick with a wounded air.

“How about giving me some warning next time before someone shows up, huh? A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Dick’s smile didn’t falter.

“What, did she catch you doing something embarrassing?”

Tim skewered him a look of disgust.

“Do you have to make everything sound dirty?”

“Sorry, sorry. …I’m surprised you’re still doing ‘that’ after all these years though.”

Tim shrugged with a heavy sigh. “Was just testing to see if I still could, I guess. I messed up on the landing anyway.”

“You probably just need to work on your form some more. It has been a while since I last saw you brush up on any techniques, they’re bound to get a bit rusty. If you want, I can still coach you…”

Tim’s lips tightened.

“Forget it. It’s not worth it.”

“Are you sure? That girl seemed pretty impressed by it. She’s the one you were talking about earlier, right?” Dick nodded in sage observation. “She’s cute; nice face, decent rack- ow!” He rubbed his arm as it was abruptly met with an annoyed punch. “Hey, it was a compliment.”

“…Didn’t sound like one.”

“Would you prefer I said she has a mighty fine ass?” He waggled his brows and grinned provocatively, despite wincing from the pain. Kid could still hit pretty hard when he wanted to. “Not as fine as mine though.”

“Shut up before I shove a dumbbell up there.”

Dick clutched his behind in mock dread at the threat.

“Seriously though, she’s obviously into you.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The way I see it, from where I’m standing, she’s more into you.”

“Oh ho, do I detect a note of jealousy?”

“No,” Tim denied hotly, though his cheeks told a different story. “It’s just that you’re being super-gross about it. You know you’re acting like Bruce by coming onto every giddy schoolgirl and her mom who walks in through the door.”

Dick’s smirk jerked slightly.

“Wow, okay dude, we’re really going there.” It was his turn to be hurt by insensitivity. “You didn’t need to go that far. I’ll have you know this and that are completely different.”

“How so?”

“I approach these things from a sole marketing perspective. Purely professional. It’s called ‘show business’, bro.”

“Uh-huh. This coming from the guy who just lied about his scars to make himself look good. I suppose ‘that’s’ also part of your advertising strategy?”

“Hey, it’s not like it was a total lie. That really did happen, you know – minus the ‘falling debris’ part. …Besides, what else would you have me say?”

Tim shook his head, keeping his voice low. “…I don’t know.”

Dick seized on the telling silence. “You are attracted to her, aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“It’s okay, I can see why. It’s all right to admit these things, you know. You don’t have to hide it.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

The firm, yet flustered defiance only further confirmed Dick’s suspicion.

“Heh heh, little Timmy’s got a crush~”

He tousled Tim’s hair teasingly, to which the boy scowled.

“I do not.” He pushed the invading hand away in indignation. “Will you cut that out already? I’m not a kid anymore.”

Dick lowered his limb in disappointment.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Despite insistence otherwise, it delighted Dick that Tim was finally exhibiting some of the youthful desire – if not exuberance – he’d missed out on through his teenage years. “Trust me though, I have no interest in someone her age. She’s all yours.”

“Look, will you just drop it?” Tim snapped bluntly. “It’s none of your freakin’ business.”

Dick exhaled, clicking his tongue. If only Tim could be more honest with his feelings, true to himself – though he was painfully aware of how excruciatingly difficult that must be, what with everything the boy had been through. To be fair, he had his own troubles genuinely opening his heart to others, after all the times it had been broken and betrayed before. …He could only imagine how terrifying it must be for Tim, to allow someone else – a complete and total stranger – to get close by entering into his currently (semi-)stable and secure – if supremely secluded life, experience that kind of risky emotion again. Breach the many walls and defensive barriers he had set up around himself, upset the plainly precarious balance that was still a struggle to barely maintain. So as much as he wanted to continue coaxing and clowning – kidding around, he agreed to leave it alone for now, raising both palms in admitted defeat.

“Okay, I get it. I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

The subject successfully dismissed, Tim attuned towards the boxes in the back.

“So did you want me to help with moving this stuff or what?”

“Yeah, I needed to clear out some old things to make space for new equipment. Trying to tidy up the place more, getting rid of useless junk and whatnot. …Although most of it’s probably going up to the storeroom in the attic anyway. Sorry to bother you for this; I’d do all the lifting myself, but with my back…”

“Don’t mention it, it’s the least I can do to repay you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Tim knelt by one of the cartons as Dick set to work sifting and sorting, organizing according to some arbitrary system that ostensibly only made sense to him.

“Christ, how much crap do you have here? Seriously, what even is half this junk? I knew you had all kinds of odd ends lying around, but I didn’t realize it amounted to this much. Do you ever throw anything away?”

Dick shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a hoarder by nature. Keeping keepsakes is my hobby. …Well, more like a habit, I guess. Why do you think we had a trophy room in the basement? It wasn’t originally Bruce’s idea, I can tell you that.”

Tim remained quiet as he poked through a large collection of CDs, containing a few recognizable but mostly random titles by various indie bands and artists he’d never heard of.

“Man, you’ve got weird taste in music.”

“Hey, don’t knock the classics. Those are precious goods, be careful with those.”

In spite of his scoffing, Tim picked up one of the discs that appealed to him, and was almost about to subconsciously slip the item under his oversized hoodie – an old, old habit of his own – before remembering he didn’t have to resort to sneaking or stealing when he could just ask.

“Can I borrow this?”

Dick didn’t even twist to look, implicitly trusting in his little brother’s judgment. “Yeah sure, go ahead.”

Tim breathed out in relief as he pocketed the prize with permission. That was a close call. Borderline kleptomaniac compulsions hadn’t surfaced like that in a long time, but then, it was only another minor checkbox on the extensive, exhaustive list of psychotic symptoms he was suffering from today.

There was another entry that caught his eye, different from the others. It had no hard case or album cover; just a plain, simple jacket labeled with marker:

For Babs.

Tim wondered if it was a mix tape – surely Dick wouldn’t have tried to record something himself? He couldn’t tell whether it was a gift Dick planned to give but never worked up the courage to – or something Barbara sent back after (one of numerous) breakup(s).

…Maybe Joker was right. Being in love with someone seemed like way more hassle than it was worth. Hell, just watching those two go back and forth between affection and anger even back then was tiring. Aggravating.

At any rate, he left burning curiosity alone, not wanting to intrude too much on Dick’s privacy (years ago he would’ve taunted his brother with the juicy bit of exposing bait himself, but that was then, when he was less mature and still found amusement in such things), and moved on to another container. As soon as he saw the contents inside, he balked a bit, heartbeat spiking. Aching. It was a family photo album, full of fond memories from the Flying Graysons’ circus days. His hands trembled as he flipped tentatively through the pages, unable to tear away even though it made him uncomfortable for a number of reasons. Paranoid of polaroids. Anything involving camerawork tended to make him queasy, though he could typically tolerate homages to others at least. These were different from the blown-up, polished posters on the wall though; the images portrayed within were more intimate, unscripted. Candid, captured moments of a close-knit clan, happy as a clam – treasured remnants of childhood innocence and bliss combined with parental pampering.

“This must have been such a cool place to grow up.”

“…It was.”

Glancing back at the receptacle, buried at the bottom was another set of snapshots: a framed photograph of Dick and Barbara together (him smiling smugly straight at her in puppy-like adoration while she beamed brightly at the viewer instead), and a worn print of the former in graduation garb next to Bruce, who had his paw wrapped proudly on the other’s shoulder. Scrawled on the top left-hand corner in Bruce��s surprisingly haphazard handwriting was a short congratulatory message:

Good luck at college, Dick.

Tim recalled how Dick told him the story of Bruce missing his graduation from Gotham State University, shortly before the two split up as Batman and Robin. (…The old man never even bothered to come to his own high school ceremony – not that Tim was expecting him to – although Dick and Barbara both did attend at least, albeit sitting at opposite ends of the auditorium.)

“It was building for a long time. I realize that now. …It was never really right. I mean, this isn’t exactly a normal childhood.”

He hadn’t really comprehended the notion then, but Tim understood now what those words meant – unfortunately all too well.

Tim sensed a shadow behind him, and for a brief instant, he half-envisioned it being Bruce from the way it loomed – but of course when he revolved around it was only Dick instead.

“Yo, you all right? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tim looked down at the scrapbook in his lap, a wistful mist in his eyes. “I was just… thinking I don’t really have any pictures of my folks. At least none where we’re all together.” Or that isn’t a mugshot, he thought sullenly to himself. “I never saw my dad keep any mementos of Mom after she died. To be honest, I’m not sure I even still remember what she looks like.”

Dick plopped down on the ground next to him, resting a hand on the boy’s sagged shoulder.

“Listen, I hope you know: No matter what, you can always think of the two of us as family at least. I know I haven’t exactly been that much of a great guardian myself, that I could never replace what you lost either… But you are still a brother to me. Hell, I consider you the closest thing to a real relative I’ve had since then.”

Tim simply nodded, swallowing a lump in his gorge. Dick patted his back with a thump.

“Us guys, we gotta stick together, right? Through thick and thin.”

“Yeah.” Tim ducked his neck towards his collar, surreptitiously drying ducts on his sweatshirt. “…Thanks, you know, for letting me stay here so long. Roy and Conner too.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” A pause. “…How’s Conner doing by the way?”

Tim snorted, the caution in the other’s tone not escaping his notice. “What do you care? You never liked him anyway.”

“That’s not true. It’s just… The whole idea of cloning someone kinda wigs me out, okay? I dunno, imagining there being a duplicate copy of you running around is freaky enough, but one of Superman? It still doesn’t sit well with me to leave him loose like that, after all the underhanded crap Cadmus has pulled. Something about it just doesn’t seem right. Who’s to say he doesn’t have some secret kill switch that’ll make him go rogue like Supergirl’s doppelganger? Gotham may be full of crazies and creeps, but at least we never really had to deal with stuff of metahuman caliber aside from Ivy and Clayface, or Kirk when he took the serum.” Dick intentionally didn’t include Killer Croc on the atypical rogues roster; guy was too dumb a criminal to count. “We’re on the high end of the ‘weird’ scale, sure, but not even Batman’s equipped to take down a serious superpowered menace alone.”

Tim glared at him in disbelief.

“Is that you talking, or the old man?”

“…Maybe a bit of both,” Dick willingly conceded. “Look, I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“Yeah well, don’t be. I’ve got Mr. Kent on speed-dial, and Kon gave me his full consent to use the Kryptonite at my discretion as part of our ‘roommate agreement’. If anything happens, he told me himself he wants me to hit him with it as hard as I can.” …Even if it meant killing him – although Tim knew he could never go through with that. Not again. “Besides, it’s not him you’re actually worried about, is it?”

“Tim…”

“No, you know what this is?” Tim clenched his fist, drawing away from contact again. “You look at him with the same way you do me – like some ticking time bomb about to explode. I’m getting real sick and tired of it.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t. Look, for your information, Conner’s doing fine. Hell, he pretty much behaves just like you; he’s probably getting wasted and chasing after chicks at some mixer right now. …That’s what you call a ‘normal college life’, isn’t it?”

Dick cleared his throat, aversely acknowledging hypocrisy.

“…What about you? How is school going? Do you like it there?”

Tim shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

“You know you didn’t have to just stick locally around here. If you wanted to go someplace else I would’ve sponsored you. I mean, I chose to stay close to Gotham because of that… ‘part-time job’ stuff, but you’re smart, you could’ve gone anywhere better.”

“I told you, I’m fine with this.”

“What about taking that girl’s suggestion at least? Life doesn’t just have to be about books and studying for tests all the time either, you know. Look at it this way: You’ve got the time and opportunity now to be a part of after-class club activities that I never had. Why not take advantage of it, get out there and socialize. Enjoy the excitement of your youth and all that.”

Tim stared, trying unsuccessfully to read the other’s expression. He couldn’t deduce whether the dude was just being humorously sarcastic, or genuinely envious and attempting to live vicariously through him. Either way, he wasn’t falling for it.

“I said forget it.”

Dick kept pressing despite disengagement, earnest in his endeavor to tempt Tim to pursue what used to fill the boy with fervent passion, desperately hoping to rekindle some kind of joyful spark.

“Come on, I’m sure it’ll be fun. I bet I could even still teach you to do a quadruple somersault if you’re interested.”

“Why? I suck at it.”

“You just need more practice. …Besides, it’d be kind of a shame to let a legacy die out without passing it on to at least one person.”

Tim wavered at the sincere, if somewhat scheming statement.

“I don’t know…”

“Trust me, it’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

“Maybe for you.” He bitterly bit his tongue under his breath. “I’d like to see you try to concentrate on keeping your balance with the Joker as a peanut gallery.”

“What was that?”

“…Nothing.”

Dick held his gaze for a second.

“Tim, I didn’t want to bring this up, but… Conner called me the other day. He told me, about the lab incident. He says you haven’t been sleeping or eating much either.”

Tim grit his jaw, feeling like a dagger had just been thrust in his gut. He couldn’t believe his best (perhaps only) bud in the world would betray him like that.

“Damnit, Kon.”

“Don’t blame him, he’s just worried about you too. I told you: You don’t need to keep hiding things from us. We’re here to help if you need anything. Babs too. If something’s troubling you, you can talk to us.”

“It’s fine, I’m handling it.”

Dick wouldn’t desist, determined to get the truth out of him.

“Tim, I heard you yelling earlier. …He’s back again, isn’t he?”

The boy sighed in surrender, eyes slanting stage right. “…To your left, making faces.”

His partner fixed him with stern concern.

“Are you off your meds again?”

“They don’t work. Not as well as they used to.”

“That doesn’t mean you should just stop taking them.”

“For what? So I can only experience the side effects?”

“So talk to Leslie. Ask her to adjust the dosage.”

Tim made a hollow noise. “I’m already on the highest strength that’s considered ‘safe’ for human consumption.”

Dick pulled out his phone anyway and began dialing her number.

“I’m contacting her. There must be at least something else we can try.”

“Not Dr. Thompkins,” Tim whined, as if a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Look, either you call to make an appointment, or I will.”

Tim seethed, grinding his teeth. “All right, fine. Jeeze. God, you and Barbara still both treat me like a fucking child.”

“Yeah well, maybe if you stop acting like one.”

“Whatever. Just hand me the phone. I’ll talk to her.”

Dick extended the cell towards Tim, who took it with all the enthusiasm of accepting a dirty sock.

“It’s ringing.”

He listened closely in on the conversation to confirm a meeting time was set up, before Tim returned the receiver.

“Here. She wants to talk to you.”

Dick lifted the mobile to his ear.

“Hey, doc.”

“Hello, Richard. It’s good to hear from you boys. How’s the back treating you?”

“Fine.” He didn’t want to dwell too much on his own health status, so he moved on to the matter at hand. “Is there anything we can do to help Tim?”

“In such a rare and unusual case as this, it’s hard to say. It’d be beneficial to start by identifying the root of his relapse. Once we pinpoint that, it’ll be easier to formulate a treatment plan. It’s possible it could just be due to the stress of moving to a new environment. It’s good that you’ve been able to help support him through high school, but now that he’s becoming independent it may be triggering a stronger separation anxiety response in him. Even if consciously he rejects it, the Joker ingrained himself as a parental figure in Tim’s mind. Essentially, he equates that kind of attention with the nurturing love and protection he never properly received growing up. It’s common for child victims of abuse to form a disorganized attachment to the caregiver, especially when the caregiver behaves in an inconsistent manner. The conflict of the caregiver being both a source of comfort and distress can cause the child to display contradictory patterns when faced with a stressful situation; instinct tells him to simultaneously avoid and approach the one who is mistreating him. In the absence of a familiar atmosphere he’s accustomed to, he’s likely seeking alternate methods of coping as a survival mechanism. Has he been under any kind of particular pressure lately?”

Dick relayed the events leading up to the fainting spell, with little input from Tim beyond affirmative nods.

“I see. It’s certainly a sign of progress that he’s trying to face his fears, but a heads-on approach might not be the best tactic.”

“I tried to tell him that. He won’t listen.”

“I’ll have a chat with him about it when I see him, hopefully we can find a way for him to succeed in his studies without compromising his sense of safety. One more question, this is important: Has he tried to harm himself?”

“I… don’t think so. I’ll check, and let you know.”

“Please do.”

As Dick temporarily terminated the exchange, he rotated to see Tim had stood up and was headed towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out for a smoke – walk – whatever. Just text me when you need me.”

“Hold it.” The harsh bark arrested the boy before he was halfway to the exit. “Wrists.”

Tim swiveled with a sour countenance.

“Seriously? Do we really have to do this?”

“Show me.”

He hissed, but obediently rolled up his sleeves, revealing bare but apparently unmarked skin.

“Satisfied?”

Dick advanced and examined him all over anyway, before nodding.

“All right. Now empty your pockets.”

Tim tsked, feeling as violated as when the staff at the detention center frisked him on admittance for any concealed contraband. He dug through his possessions, retrieving objects one by one: phone, wallet, CD player, lighter, cigarettes, and finally – under Dick’s demanding eye – the hidden pocketblade.

“Give me the knife.”

He hesitated.

“Don’t make me wrestle it from you.”

Relinquishing, he slapped the weapon into Dick’s grip without a word.

“Thank you. You can go, but try to keep near.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

Dick deliberately chose to ignore the sardonic retort, used to receiving attitude by now. (For a fleeting moment, he mused if he ever gave Bruce this much frustration, although no doubt Alfred would certainly attest to it.)

After Tim left, Dick hit redial to reassuringly inform Leslie on the observed lack of self-inflicted damage to the patient’s physical condition at least – and preemptive confiscation of means just to be safe – before bidding goodbye with a final beep. He sighed as he rubbed his neck, hoping his “tough love” hadn’t come off as too deterring. He really wasn’t good with this whole “parenting” thing, considering the primary role model he had for nearly half of his life after early adolescence.

As he picked up the memoir from the floor, he caressed his fingers feather-light over the cover, brushing off collected dust and disenchantment before delicately placing it on a shelf for easy viewing access. The rest he unceremoniously dumped in the “to toss” pile, purposefully cramming as much trash as he could on top. …After a few minutes though he fished them out again, rescuing from the base of the rubbish heap with ambivalent reluctance, restoring to the original package and sealing tightly with tape. They could remain upstairs for now at least – like his ruined Nightwing costume – evidence of old wounds and shattered bonds shuttered behind closed panel; tucked away in the dark recesses of his conscience, lurking and lingering deep in the shadows off-screen.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Two birds of a feather Say that they're always gonna stay together But one's never going to let go of that wire He says that he will But he's just a liar

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Dick Grayson #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #Ironically Dick later gets a clone himself in the 'Hush Beyond' comic story arc #which is a mess in all sorts of ways but I'm considering canon for the sake of keeping 'continuity'#on the subject of the tie in comics though one thing I love about Gotham Adventures is how they highlight Dick's fondness for music #wherein his musical knowledge actually comes in handy to help solve a couple cases #if you haven't read the series I highly recommend doing so for a lot more extra character development and wonderful BatFam interactions <3 #also FYI all the photographs appeared in the show at some point #cookie to whoever guesses which ep each is from ;O #P.S. Happy Father's Day

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Doing some writing today off and on between errands and work, and jumping around various Kings of the Sky installments, specifically Dick, Jason and Cass stuff, so probably gonna post snippets from a bunch of them as I go.

(Kings of the Sky is an AU that goes canon divergent from the point of Jason calling Dick for advice for dealing with Bruce after the Garzonas case and where things end up going dramatically different from that point on. Including Jason not dying, being part of his own lineup of Titans between Dick and Tim’s, Dick being adopted not long after the Church of Blood incident, Cass being the third Wayne kid to be taken in and adopted and with Tim and Duke being next and then Damian coming along later once they find out about him. This is basically my ‘the family’s alright’ AU with largely ‘Good Dad Bruce’ except for Dick and then Jason yelling some sense into him about the other, respectively, in the first two installments, just FYI).

Anyway, this bit is from a story called “In Their Shadows Grow Trees Of Good and Evil,” set about a year after Cass has been adopted, when she and Jason are both sixteen and Dick’s twenty-one. Also just FYI, because canon has never been specific about what ways Cass is neurodivergent due to the comic-book style ‘rewiring’ of her brain so that she could learn to speak later in life, I tend to go with her being dyslexic and having aphasia. She sticks exclusively to sign language and being a silent presence in her costumed personas, so that there’s no chance of people connecting the dots between Black Bat and Cassandra Wayne, as she mostly speaks verbally in her civilian persona and doesn’t hide her aphasia. The reason there’s not likely to be any obvious signs of aphasia in the snippets of her I post is because I wait until I complete something to choose words at random to replace with aphasia-born mixups, so its more realistic and I’m not gearing her dialogue towards deliberately placed moments. Just in case you were wondering.

In Their Shadows Grow Trees of Good and Evil

“Hey Todd,” sneered an exquisitely obnoxious voice. “Why’s your sister so fucking weird?”

Jason sighed the sigh of a soul a mere century into its eternity of damnation as he rose from the lunch table he’d been studying at and crammed the rest of his books into his backpack. Then he pasted a cheerfully bland smile on his face and turned around, geared for academia warfare (teenage prep school edition).

“Hey Craig,” he said brightly. “Why’d you come out of the womb so ugly your parents had to tie a piece of steak around your neck just to get the family dog to go near you? Mysteries abound.”

The advancing junior slowed a step, momentarily rocked by his truly impressive return volley. The grimace Craig’s already gargoyle-esque features twisted into made his face even more unpleasant to look at than usual, which was quite the feat. Jason would have applauded if just looking at it hadn’t already turned him to stone.

But the bargain basement basilisk kept on towards him rather than turn tail and skulk off to pop his emotional blisters, so Jason sighed a sequel to his first one. Looked like it was one of those days where Craig felt up to powering through. Guess someone had eaten their self-esteem Wheaties that morning. Joy.

“You think you’re pretty hot shit, don’t you, Todd?”

Jason shrugged. “I mean, to be honest I kinda have a one track mind, so right now I’m mostly just thinking about punching you in your mistake.”

“My what?”

“Your face,” Jason elaborated with exaggerated patience.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god, I’m saying your face is a mistake. See, its not as fun when I have to stop and explain it to you. Ugh, you ruin everything.”

He neatly sidestepped the older boy as R2-Dumbass stayed frozen, smoke coming off of his internal CPU while trying to catch up. For a second Jason thought he was home free, but then he remembered the universe fucking hated him so haha, sucks to suck. Also, a small crowd had gathered to witness the verbal jousting match, and nothing invigorated an asshole like Craig more than an audience of like-minded peers. So there was that too.

“Whatever. Laugh it up all you want, you little shit,” the junior rallied. “But just remember, mocking your betters will never change the fact that you were born street trash and you’ll be street trash until the day you die.”

Honestly? Not his best effort. Jason almost felt bad using any of his good material. Seemed like overkill at this point. But he did have a strict Scorched Earth policy to maintain, so.....

“Yeah but my dad could buy out and ruin your dad so that means I still win, right?”

He smirked as the barb landed and Craig’s face set into a sunset vista of strangled purple and furious red. Bam. Direct hit.

“Listen, you - “

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it was rhetorical,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t actually care what you think even a little bit. Nobody does. You don’t matter. Please go be irrelevant elsewhere, you’re fucking dismissed, you loser.”

“Speak for yourself, charity case.” Oh goodie, Craig’s backup singers had finally arrived. Now if only he could remember to care enough to learn their names in the first place. Seriously, who told the extras they could have lines? “All the jokes in the world can’t change who and what you are.”

Jason shrugged and continued nonchalantly up the hill to where his sister was standing with arms crossed, staring down at something on the other side.

“True genius is never appreciated in its own time,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be immortalized in song eventually.”

The mob of morons deigned to let him go without further incident. Though he suspected that had less to do with his scathing wit and more to do with him being headed towards Cass. She was immaculately presented as always, wearing the Gotham Academy uniform like she was born to it despite hating its uncomfortable stiffness every bit as much as he did. But that was just Cass for you.

For all that she still struggled at times to engage verbally or speak up in social settings, her mastery of body language remained without peer. She could chameleon-camouflage her way into matching poise and posture with anyone - a skill that had allowed her to walk into school on her very first day with her head held high as though she owned everything in her sight. Exuding so much Queen Bee Intimidation Factor even the other hive queens were afraid to approach her themselves. Sending forth their drones to try and woo her into an alliance, only to see her remain oh-so-casually above it all, a slightly contemptuous smile adorning her lips.

Basically, she scared the shit out of their classmates without them having anywhere close to a true understanding of why, and Jason was outrageously jealous. Rude. Unfair. Why did his siblings always get all the cool toys when all he had was his rakish charm, scintillating intellect and debonair.....nah, who was he kidding. He was fucking awesome.

“Sup, sis,” he said, cresting the hill to stand beside Cass. “Just FYI, I just took a popularity bullet for you, which means you owe me your dessert tonight. Its a family rule that’s totally a real thing and definitely not something I just made up right now because Alf is making chocolate soufflé.”

She made no acknowledgment and remained stock still, a Colossus at Rhodes peering down into the shifting shadows of the parking lot below.

He peered down as well, though with absolutely no idea what they were looking at. Solidarity, yo.

“So are we staring fixedly at anything in particular, or should I just pick my own spot and commit?”

His humor was totally wasted on her as always. Instead of laughing and telling him what a lovable goof he was, she just inclined her head in the direction of a blonde girl where she was standing next to the driver’s side door of a Mercedes-Benz, dictating final commandments to her peons before departing. Well, probably. Jason was just guessing, based on his own body language reads, and like, general disdain for literally everyone at this school that wasn’t related to him.

He made a face. An extra special one reserved just for this classmate in particular. “Ugh, Madison Dunleavy? She’s the worst.”

Cass raised a cool eyebrow. “I thought Craig Hendricks was the worst.”

“He is. They’re both the worst. Its a hotly contested position here at Gotham Academy.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded back down at the Queen of Air and Darkness. “So. You know her?”

“Nope,” Jason said. “Come to think of it, I’ve actually never seen her in my life. No idea who that is. Can’t help you, sorry. Shall we go home?”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition speared him with clear intent. Who the fuck needed words when you could pack the Encyclopedia Britannica into a single facial expression?

Jason sighed gustily.

“I had a slight altercation with her freshman year that led to her declaring her undying enmity for me until the end of time. The word nemesis may or may not have been thrown around once or twice. I can’t recall.”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition lowered nary an inch. Ugh, she wanted more? Why did everyone in his family hate privacy, with the obvious exclusion of himself when snooping through Cass and Dick’s rooms for blackmail material, which was actually intel-gathering and thus another matter entirely.

“Okay so basically what happened was my first week here I overheard her talking shit about me and not even twenty minutes later she was pretending to kiss my ass in homeroom, like probably because of Bruce, y’know? So I just busted out laughing and told her to fuck off and die and she has inexplicably loathed me ever since.”

Avoiding further Eyebrow Inquisition-ing, he made a show of peering around aimlessly. When the silence extended and it was clear Cass was absolutely not going to break first, Jason waved a hand in dismissal and took to peering oh so casually at his fingernails. "I suppose I was less tactful back in those days.”

He chanced a look up, finally, and saw his sister’s eyebrow had somehow managed to mighty morphin power ranger its way into a configuration evoking both judgment and disbelief, with the latter perhaps aimed at the idea he was significantly differing in the tact department these days either.

“I don’t love the implications your face is making right now,” he told her.

She ignored him, because of course she did.

“Does she know Dick?” She asked instead. Jason shrugged.

“I mean, maybe? She’s probably seen him around at one of those stupid galas we have to go to, and actually I think maybe she has an older brother who was either in Dick’s grade or like, one above or below it? I don’t know.”

Now both eyebrows were doing the dance of disbelief. Okay, so maybe that was poor situational awareness on his part, since it wasn’t like Gotham Academy was a big school with a ton of other kids and also he’d only been in the same class as Madison for like over two whole years, but whatever. There were extingent circumstances.

“Look, she’s a total snob who’s always looked down on me and in return I willfully ignore both her existence and that of everyone and everything even tangentially related to her. Its called equality, Cass.”

She pursed her lips and went back to the peering, because of course in the mind of Cass it made total sense that the Grand Inquisition didn’t need to be followed up by any explanation on her part, what the hell. Like was he supposed to have inferred it?

“What’s this all about anyway?”

“I heard her talking about Dick earlier,” she said without peeling her eyes away from her personal recon mission. “I don’t know what she said though, I just heard her say Grayson, and then I was busy looking at what her body was saying. I know it was about Dick because she shut down when she saw me. And I didn’t like the way she....looked....before that happened. The way she was talking. It was.....”

Jason frowned but held back any follow-up questions while he waited - with total patience because he wasn’t an absolute cad, thank you very much - for his sister to find the word she was hunting for. It was a major source of frustration for her, that whatever neural map her brain followed put body language and spoken language in totally different regions of her brain, separated by a fairly great divide. Meaning she usually had to make a conscious choice to focus on body language or conventional languages - whether verbal or sign. But it tended to be one or the other; she’d yet to master taking in and comprehending both forms of ‘language’ at the same time. And none of them had quite figured out how to convince her that she wasn’t actually missing anything when she chose to focus on one specific form of communication - that she was still observing far more than most people ever would.

“Proprietary,” Cass settled on at last. She nodded her satisfaction with her choice of word, and Jason waited a whole two point five seconds before sticking his whole foot in his mouth.

“Proprietary?” He asked with a scrunched nose as he weighed that for possible context and implications. “You sure?”

She glared. He winced. It was a whole thing.

“Yeah, I know, sorry, sorry, I heard it the second it was out of my mouth. We don’t actually have to experiment with the legitimacy of if looks could kill.”

Cass rolled her eyes, but eh. That could’ve gone worse.

Jason swiftly redirected attention anyway. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.

“So. The Queen of Air and Darkness was talking about our big bro, and her mood was.....proprietary, huh?” He recapped while digesting the info like a boss. “Well. Definitely not loving that, I gotta say. Hold please.”

Pulling out his phone and pulling up his most recent texts, he began typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” Cass asked.

“Texting Tom,” he replied, because duh. Hah, now it was his chance to have the answers that should be patently obvious and thus make with the ‘are you kidding me’ when she asked obvious questions she should know the answer to! How do you like them apples, sis?

“Why are you texting your boyfriend right now?”

Jason rolled his eyes, because fair is fair, but never ceased texting for a moment. Time was of the essence here, probably. Well, maybe. Okay probably not. But it’d still been like half an hour since he and Tom had last texted and that’s a very fucking long time in teenage years.

“To be our getaway driver tonight, obviously.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look up, but he could feel it anyway. He was very intuitive like that.

“What?”

Jason heaved another sigh, one keyed to tones of ‘oh my god, do I really have to spell this out,” exasperation. He was just racking up the bonus points here. It was really too bad this wasn’t an actual competition he could actually win and this was all just pettiness taking place wholly in his own head. Lame.

“Well, clearly we now have to go snoop in Madison’s house aka lair to see if its actually a house or a full on lair. Because she’s either a creeper or like, legit evil, and its important to know which one before we proceed, because obviously we can only bust her for being a weird creeper about our brother as Jason and Cass, whereas if she’s legit evil, that’s gotta go down as Robin and Black Bat. I’ll handle the snooping, you’ll take look-out, but we still need a wheelman and that’s why I’m texting Tom. This is all very mission-oriented, okay. I’m a professional.”

“Right,” she affirmed, while sounding anything but convinced. “Why don’t we just tell Bruce?”

Without looking up or breaking stride, he said: “I’m going to give you til I finish typing this sentence to figure out what was wrong with what you just said. Remember that we are talking about hypothetical danger to our brother, and also Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response to any of his children being in even hypothetical danger. And also our brother’s idea of a proportionate response to Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response. Look, you’re still new so I’m gonna need you to just trust me on this one. Its gonna be a no on telling Bruce without further intel.”

Cass said nothing in response to that, which meant that she was conceding the point and recognized the wisdom of his words. Or maybe that she was just gonna go ahead and do what she wanted anyway and just wasn’t bothering to fight about it, but it was probably that first thing.

“Well you better not just make out with your boyfriend all night,” is what she said at last, and that got his attention reeeeeal quick like.

“Umm. Wow. Okay. So, first off, you’re not the boss of me and who I make out with and when, so jot that down. And second, now I’m definitely going to make out with my boyfriend extra hard, with the exception of when we are actually on our recon mission because as previously established, I am a professional. And also, again, you’re not the boss of me.”

Jason ignored her Eye Roll With Extra Emphasis, and instead just held up his phone to Text With Extra Emphasis, as he read along with what he was typing.

“By the way babe, we have to make out extra hard tonight,” he said, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he dragged out his dictation with the kind of focus that usually led to Bruce asking why he couldn’t apply as much intensity to training as he did to pettiness. “Cass has suddenly decided she can dictate terms to me and I need to shut that shit down ASAP, so thank you in advance for your assistance in this matter. Smoochies and other gay stuff to the best boyfriend ever.”

Jason frowned as a response pinged back seconds later.

TheCatsMeow: ....the things I put up with for the sake of your weird family dynamics.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah, yeah. You’re a saint among were-panthers. Must you mock? Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty instead?

TheCatsMeow: Sorry. Let me try again. OMG you’re so pretty Jase how did I get so lucky xoxo.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: No. Its too late. It feels forced and unbelievable now. You’ve ruined it forever.

TheCatsMeow: Got it. From now on I will only tell you that you’re repulsive and hideous.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: I’m breaking up with you.

TheCatsMeow: But after I help you with your mission tonight.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Obvsly. I’m a professional. Why do people keep forgetting this?

TheCatsMeow: And also the making out to spite your sister.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah we should do that first too. I mean we already penciled it in.

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claraxbarton · 5 years

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MCU Bucky Barnes

So here’s the thing.

I’m a costume designer by trade, and one thing that I actually really love about Captain America: The Winter Soldier (okay, among the things I love) is the costume design and the rhetorical value given to the clothes and, well, costumes in this movie.

For example - when Sam and Steve have their heart to heart on the bridge that ends with Sam saying “but he doesn’t even know you” and Steve saying “he will” before going to steal his old uniform - the one Bucky last saw him in when he was Bucky. There are some other great costume points in this movie, actually a LOT of them (costumes, not wigs, don’t at me because I KNOW).

But one thing that has always stood out to me, and not in a good way, is the “I’m with you til the end of the line” flashback.

Now, here’s the thing, it’s not JUST about the clothes. We’re in MCU verse, so it’s MCU canon - obviously, the Steve and Bucky duo is drastically different in Marvel comics canon so - and Bucky starts this scene by saying his folks wanted to give Steve a ride to the cemetery.

Which is super cool and nice. So one, we know Bucky’s dad is still alive - and his mom, but two, we know they have a car.

So this is supposed to be when Steve is around 16? So it’s... 1936 (according to MCU wiki it totally is)

So cars.

Crazy popular ever since they started having closed bodies and all that. BUT, were they crazy popular in CITIES in 1936? Especially in the middle of the Great Depression?

There’s some evidence that actually no, that car ownership in a city like NYC was something like 1 car per every 43 people. Then again, looking at the NYC.gov 2015 Mobility Report we see that the population of NYC in 1936 is something like 7.2 million, and the number of registered vehicles in 764,000... or roughly one per every 9.4-ish persons. Which is a pretty drastically different number. This doesn't, of course, account for taxis or fleet cars being registered - so the number might seem inflated. I still think it’s probably something closer to 1 car per every 20 than every 43 but... I’m too lazy to dig that much deeper at the moment. Plus I'm sick, which is fueling this in the first place.

So, anyway you slice it, Bucky’s family was in 11%, 5% or 2.33% of New Yorkers who own cars in 1936. Which says something, I think, about Bucky Barnes that we don’t always - ever? - think of in fandom.

I’m not going to say that Bucky Barnes was loaded. Maybe his family owned a garage or a grocery store or a delivery service or a funeral home...?? or something. So, the vehicle could be occupational as opposed to private usage - but either way it’s a statement. Bucky’s family has money and/or Bucky’s family has steady employment.

I’ve been there. I’ve read the fics where Bucky works at the docks to put Steve through art school and get him his medicine. I love those fics. I love that head canon.

But I... don’t think it’s realistic in light of some evidence showing us that, actually, Bucky wasn’t doing too badly for himself.

Let’s now actually look at CLOTHING. Here’s the whole scene via youtube, if you want to follow along with what is about to get RIDICULOUS.

Actually, before I dive in, who is the costumer for this movie? And should I be like... reading into all this as much as I am?

Judianna Makovsky - fellow New Jersey..Ian?ite?no clue - 3 time Oscar nominee and designer of 5 MCU films and a lot of other big budget movies, including quite a few period pieces dealing with issues of race and class (The Legend of Bagger Vance, Seabiscuit, The Little Princess.. and also like Harry Potter and The Quick and the The Dead.) So, should I have some faith in Judianna Makovsky’s designs? I’m gonna go with yeah, yeah I should.

So, back to the movie. The scene.

This is post funeral. We’re in 1936. As a general rule, the dress, colors and style of mourning wear was pretty much formalized in the early Victorian era. There was a great - read PHENOMENAL - exhibit at the MET a few years back on Mourning-wear and I’m still reeling from how lovely everything was - but the gist of it is this: you wore black when someone died. If you were a lady, and especially if you were a rich lady, you then went through a few different colors (dull black to SHINY black to purple/mauve and gray and white and then back to color within six months to one year). By the 1930s only the really rich were sticking to the actual rules of mourning - or like, really old people. And, of course, really old rich people. Really old rich WHITE people. Because it needs to be said: these are WHITE customs. I'm not saying people of other ethnicities didn’t follow them, but these are basically British Victorian practices that were assimilated into American culture.

I’m not going to go off on a huge sidebar about American fashion following in French dressmaking and British tailoring, but I need to say at least that much. Everyone who was anyone knew you got your dresses made in France or in the French style and you got your suits made in England - Savile Row in specific. I am NOT implying Bucky’s got himself an English suit, fyi. I just... have to be thorough.

BACK TO THE SCENE:

We’ve got our boy Steve. STEVE. Who just buried Sarah Rogers and what is he wearing...?

For starters, he’s wearing a windbreaker, check out the 1933 ad below, he’s the guy almost giving us the Fonz finger gesture, or maybe guy in the fedora on the end.

This thing isn’t falling apart at the seams, but it’s a very nondescript not really gray, not really blue - maybe was at one point. It also doesn’t FIT Steve. It also, in the ad above, would cost about $165.40 in today’s money.

My guess? It’s Bucky’s old windbreaker. Because it’s not cheap and because it’s just a bit too big on Steve.

He’s also wearing a shirt that is maybe tan? And a brown tie and maybe - MAYBE black trousers. And if those trousers are black, it’s the only black thing he’s wearing. Not even a black tie, or a black arm band (which I’m pretty sure - but also pretty aggressively atheist so I don’t know - the Catholic Church would have provided for chief mourners and pall bearers right?). We also have our depressing as all shit Depression surroundings to clue us in: Steve Rogers ain’t loaded. Steve Rogers is poor as dirt. Side note: boys. Hiding a key under the ONE FUCKING BRICK on a walkway is not like... a smart idea???

So we can guess a few things here, we can guess that Steve and Sarah were really struggling - this checks out with the rest of MCU canon (wearing newspapers stuffed in his shoes, even when he had nothing he had Bucky, etc.) - and that all money probably went towards Steve’s numerous ailments, food and then the TB medication or treatment, as it was, that was available to Sarah.

We can maybe guess that Steve and Sarah weren’t very religious -but I don’t feel qualified to impart anything except my own agenda here so I’m not taking that stance. But like, real talk, not even an arm band??

But, well, let’s move on to the point of this whole long ass thing anyway?

Then we go to Mr. Barnes, looking dapper AF. Also, hey, check out this ad from 1933 featuring... pretty much exactly what Bucky is wearing down to the god-damn two-tone shoes:

If you’re curious, yeah $24.98 in 1936 is $475.44. I'm not suggesting Bucky Barnes went out and bought a brand new suit for Steve’s mother’s funeral - for one thing, this ad is from 1933. BUT, that suit fits Bucky. Quite well, and it’s in good shape. He’s also sporting that super stylish mid-late 30s into 40s deeply angled collar shirt - as is our dude up in the ad - and so we know these clothes are at least new-ish. We also can see that the suit is definitely of the mid-30s moving into the boxy silhouette of the later 30s and early 40s and NOT the look of the 20s and early 30s, which has an almost bell-bottom fullness to the legs instead of our straight-leg here (though we can debate nuance if you want to hit up my DMs.)

I should note, Bucky’s shirt is not bright and pristine white - it’s kind of grayish? And I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be an old-timey sepia thing or an indication that Bucky can’t afford to... bleach a white shirt? So that’s an odd choice for sure because we’re still in an age when a crisp, white collar shirt means something (Hey, if you want to hear me go on about the democratization of men’s fashion via shirt collars and 19th century Victorian suits, let me know because I am READY).

All this is to say: I don’t think Bucky Barnes is a poor dock worker. I think Bucky Barnes of MCU canon. Okay, so the MCU wiki on Bucky/The Winter Soldier is an actual mess (because it tells us that Sarah died in 1936 and that’s FINE but I’m not going back to change my math because I’m SICK so just... I went back and changed it. She died in 1936. Fine. The damn wiki also says that “a year later, during their art class, Barnes and Rogers found out that the United States of America had joined World War II. Which, like, I’m sick, but there are a few years between 1936 and December 8 1941... just... I’m no rocket doctor but...

ANYWAY. Bucky is a three time YMCA welterweight boxing champion by this “year later”/ 1941-1942. He and Steve are also in an ART CLASS together. Bucky also trained Steve in boxing at Goldie’s gym before the two of them went to enlist - Steve rejected and Bucky, again quoting MCU wiki, “drafted” (which I'm gonna take to mean he didn’t try to enlist when Steve got rejected, they went home and Bucky got called up later but... hey, who knows?!).

So, I can’t easily find the prices of gym memberships in NYC in the 1930s right now because I don’t feel like wading through all of the articles complaining about Equinox pricing in 2019. But I do know that part of Roosevelt’s WPA (Works Progress Administration) building projects included building more public gyms - as well as libraries, auditoriums, pools, parks etc. Check out your local public buildings - if they are WPA projects they will have a cool plaque like my local NJ library does! All that is to say, there were free or very cheap PUBLIC options where Bucky could have trained Steve.

Bucky trained Steve in a private gym. Do I like to think that this is the same gym Steve and America’s ass are working out in in The Avengers? Yes, Yes I do. Do I like to think that Steve likes to box because it reminds him of Bucky? Yes, yes I do.

But moving on: it’s another sign of wealth.

So is this “art class.” Whether we are in 1937 or 1941 - we’re still in the Depression. Steve still has all of his health issues and presumably accompanying “medication” (wanna talk 1930s medicine? Again, slide into my DMs or shoot me an ask). So Steve either has a side job making enough to cover all of that, rent? and enrollment in an art class.

OR maybe Steve is teaching the art class and Bucky is his model for life drawing instruction (yeah, it’s a fic bunny I’m sharing with the world).

OR maybe... Bucky is paying the rent and other things or Steve is living with Bucky and can afford the class and meds... somehow or...

OR I'm not saying that Steve is Bucky’s kept man because Steve Rogers would punch anyone who dared to say such a thing.

All I’m saying is, Bucky Barnes was not a poor dude. Bucky Barnes... had some money.

And also I’m about to be late for my doctor’s appointment so I gotta run.

At me with your thoughts!

#Bucky barnes #James Buchanan barnes #winter soldier #Steve rogers #captain america #marvel #mcu #meta #head-canon #costume design #character thoughts

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dvrkhclme-blog · 5 years

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✕ — wasn’t that raven darkholme wandering the streets of new york, 1973? civilians know them as mystique and see them as a villain. as far as i know, the one hundred and fifty+ year old stands with the x-men (sometimes), and are rumoured to be pretty deceptive & misanthropic. ( julianne moore / gender-fluid / typically she/her )

{ trigger warnings : mental illness, suicide, sexual abuse, drugs, terrorism, murder }

hey everyone, i’m sophia!! i’m trash and neglected the intros for all my babies soooo i’m finally getting to them now!! anyways, i’m super excited to be here at 1973hq & i hope we can all be good friends!! <3 sooo. more about my first baby aka my murder!baby under the cut

LEVEL 1: INTRODUCTORY INFORMATION ABOUT MY MYSTIQUE //

im not even gonna touch the mceu version of mystique ok thx therefore shes gonna be combination of comics mystique and a bunch of my own headcanons — soooo

LEVEL 2: SURFACE LEVEL MYSTIQUE — THE GOOD, THE BAD, THE UGLY //

( skip this part if youre familiar with the mcu its basically a shortened version of her bio )

the binch is oLD ok??/ old af. probably several centuries old. i’d say 200 years old at minimum but its never really been disclosed

don’t even get me started on wtf i think happened to her to fight just to survive at age 12 when her mutation kicked in bcus,,, yike

her entire life has been characterized by betrayals. whether it be mystique betraying someone else (most likely) or her being betrayed by someone else (in the case of destiny)

her n destiny met in the early 20th century. destiny asked her to help decode her prophecies and to stop the terrifying ones from being fulfilled. they fell in Luv. they are partners. gay ass partners. (the original idea for mystique n destiny was for nightcrawler to be their canon kid. via mystique in a males body. but this was retconned bcus of homophobia thx but i’d personally love this hc if we get a kurt & it’s ok w/ them anyway )

anyway after ww2 she met sabertooth n had her first (canonically recorded) kid, graydon. who. lo n behold, she abandoned.

that’ll be a trend, fyi, better watch out for that

but graydon turned out to be a mutant hating human so thats fun

then mystique from our time went back in time in attempt to assassinate graydon (which doesnt, in the end, work),,,, also fun

then she gets married to a wealthy german count,,, uses her power to start seducing other people, when she meets azael who manipulates and seduces her. has nightcrawler via azael ,, its cool

raven murdered her husband and was then regarded by her townsfolk n as a demon. she escaped but abandoned kurt,,, also cool

she adopts raven then. and actually genuinely loves her. (more on this in the next section)

she founds the 3rd version of the brotherhood n they do more terrorist shit good job mystique #magnetowasright

sike mystique betrayed magneto and turned him into the government, turned the brotherhood into the freedom force, n started working for the gov. working for freedom force is when destiny died and that triggered one of mystiques many breakdowns (also more on this below)

she was v depressed at this time and taken advantage of by the shadow king. raven let herself be brainwashed by the government into thinking she was her own government handler to take down the shadow king. didnt work. he torments her the rest of her life. yike.

she had nanotech put into her head so the government could force her to work for x-factor, while with them she finds out destiny during their partnership had other partners and kids she didnt know about and one was a mutant

graydon has this mutant savagely beaten. before mystique can kill graydon for this, hs followers kill him n turn him into a martyr. super fun. cue operation zero tolerance.

mystique went undercover as the senators wife for a while n used her connections to the fbi to do shadier shit

she then ran away and took some random chicks form and became a model and made a ton of cash — u go girl

except this kinda sucked for her because she moved into a penthouse suite which in the neighbouring building had skulls plotting to take down mankind. they framed her for a murder, her powers stopped working, n she was arrested

the government eased all her alternate identities and froze all her assets and access to the money she and destiny saved up for decades. cue another mental breakdown

then she finds out destiny was responsible for founding the anti-mutant conspiracy mystique spent her whole life trying to stop, and that destiny also didnt give medical attention to mutant kids who were deformed from their mutations

long story short she has an even worse breakdown n goes completely nihilistic, realizing she cant change the world for the better, she remakes the brotherhood and impersonates moira mctaggert to get her research on the legacy virus

a bunch more shit happens with raven ending up in the care of homeland security. xavier makes a deal with her and breaks her out. everyont thought she tried to kill xavier,,, when she didnt actually,,, because xaviers a shady fuck,,, but oh well. rogue disowns her for it. leads to another mental breakdown.

because of this she decides fuq u xavier and creates a mutant kid identity for herself known as foxx and joins the xmen to stop rogue and remy’s relationship

she helped the x-men during this time n also helped save rogue’s life via the messiah baby. but once again her intentions are misconstrued

she snaps again and impersonates bobby drake’s girlfriend & gets the poor boy hospitalized

norman osborn then recruited her to the dark x-men, injected her with nanites, then helped logans soul to hell, but then changed her mind and helped get him back. when he got back tho he uh. well. killed her. her and sabretooth were both resurrected by the hand (more on this later)

mystique then rejoined the brotherhood, impersonated alison, and took her place as mutant liaison for shield, harvesting her DNA to make MGH (mutant growth hormone)

LEVEL 2.5: MYSTIQUE’S PLACE IN THIS VERSE

i imagine she went back in time to 1973 under the guise of helping people & being “reformed” but in reality she was also doing shady mystique shit on the side and probably trying to tie up some loose ends, whether it be with graydon, the shadow king, destiny, or someone else. or probably a combination

anyways now shes staying w/ the x-men part time and playing Good Girl for now. she wants to show everyone that shes reformed n better n just wants to do things for the betterment of mutant kind. wants 2 get their trust too

shes pretty. level headed right now i’d say. betsy braddock helped her during one of her mental breakdowns by telepathically realigning her fragmented psyche — she’s still mystique n still awful but not as chaotic anymore. and less prone to attack rogue or other people aimlessly. it’s much more goal oriented now.

LEVEL 3: MYSTIQUES PSYCHE //

ok so she identifies as gender fluid bcus she shape shifts forms but also because i imagine shes so sick of having sexualized herself all these decades to get what she wants that shes just fed up with gender norms and thinks theyre bullshit. she’s fine to go by she/her pronouns but she doesnt really identify as a specific gender in my head

she drinks but mostly absinthe and only w/ people she trusts. along those lines it’s similar for drugs but she loves a good high and a good hallucination

she has bouts of psychosis that her wiki defines as schizophrenia. it manifests in much more anger and aggression. hallucinations. delusions — especially presecutory and grandiose delusions — lack of pleasure (hence the nihilism), social withdrawal, and poverty of speech. her sense of identity becomes so fractured that she cant keep herself consistently in one body without it taking all of her concentration — and sometimes that isn’t even enough. she gets lots of mood and cognitive changes during these episodes — and completely loses her sense of self

despite her grandiose ego she’s actually very self conscious and refuses to look in a mirror. actually she’s scared of her appearance. she cant look at herself normally in fear of seeing a monster look back

this is also the reason she was so easily deceived by azael. he looked like a monster, too, and embraced her for how she is. he didnt make her change to fit another appearance that couldve been “more beautiful”

lastly, her motives for doing things??? are always for the betterment of mutantkind. over time this got very skewed and her belief became that the only way for mutants to actually live is for all humans to die. shes a terrorist through and through, but she loves mutants. she just has a personal vendetta against the x-men that’s grown over the years — her constantly being betrayed by people during her episodes of psychosis and the x-men never actually believing the real story (but also like. why would they??? shes often so awful too)

shes attempted suicide canonically in the past. she loses control of herself. it’s also heavily implied she’s been assaulted in the past. anyways shes a sad baby too

— so thats about it for my murder baby! yike this got a lot longer than i expected it to but anyways i cant wait to write her with all of you!! <3

#「 classified. 」#﹠⋅ 。✗ ꜰɪʟᴇ. ⋮「 ── who am i? that is not a question easily answered. 」#73:intro

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The History of Superhero Trading Cards

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article is part of our Collector’s Digest series powered by:

For over 80 years, trading cards have been an essential part of collectors’ lives. Whether baseball cards or Garbage Pail Kids, the card collecting bug bites early and often. This seems doubly true when it comes to cards inspired by the beloved heroes and villains of DC and Marvel Comics, who have been the subject of countless non-sport lines across the decades.

These companies (and their independent peers) have released comic book characters into the pop culture landscape who have impacted our lives in ways that cultural anthropologists are still scratching their heads trying to figure out. And so we wanted to present to you a history of superhero trading cards via the genre’s most memorable offerings.

Just be warned that we can’t be held responsible for the desire that the following collectibles will stir deep within you.

1940 Superman Trading Cards

Price: $150 – $9,000

Look up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s… one of the coolest and most collectible non-sport card lines ever made! Originally printed by the Philadelphia-based Gum Inc. company – which subsequently was renamed as the Bowman Gum Company before being bought by Topps in the 1950s – this was the first-ever line of Superman cards. The decades have seen many sets based on the Man of Steel (Topps’ Superman in the Jungle line from the late 1960s is also well worth your time), but this specific line is a souvenir of an era when Supes was the biggest comic sensation in the universe. Since these were released in an age when pop culture was considered ephemeral and disposable, they are rather difficult to find in an acceptable condition, thus the astronomical prices for individual cards in the line. If you somehow manage to compile a complete set, congratulations, for you are truly a Superman of collecting!

Buy 1940 Superman Trading Cards on eBay

1966 Donruss Marvel Super Heroes

Price: $4.99 – $175.00 per card

Released just as Marvelmania was truly getting off the ground, Donruss’ 1966 set – which appropriately consisted of 66 cards – marked the first time that some of the House of Ideas’ most iconic characters were included on trading cards. As such, the prices for individual cards fluctuate wildly, and it’s best that you comparison shop various eBay sellers to get the best deal. What makes these cards stand out is the charmingly corny humor on display in many of the cards, as well as several entries that let you fill in the word balloons spoken by your favorite heroes. ‘Nuff said? Probably not, as we could talk about how much fun this set is for days…

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Batman 1966 Topps Trading Cards

Price: $60 – $250

As Marvel was just getting their feet wet in the trading card game, DC had already established themselves as the industry leader. It’s especially easy to understand why when you glimpse the Topps company’s tie-in line for the Batman TV show. Each card features stunning paintings from Topps legend Norman Saunders (the artist who also worked on iconic lines like Mars Attacks and Wacky Packages) featuring Batman and his rogues gallery of villains in action scenes that remain the purest example of how creative trading cards can get. FYI: This set was re-released in 1989 in conjunction with the Batman movie (more on that in a minute) and prices for the reissued cards tend to be lower.

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Marvel Comic Book Heroes Sticker Trading Cards

Price: $5 – $8

Iron Man flies through the air asking if anyone has an oil can. Dracula makes jokes about doing the Hustle. The Human Torch advises against getting a sunburn. Yes friends, Topps’ 1976 line of stickers featuring Marvel heroes and villains is easily the goofiest entry on this list. And if you love dad jokes and horrific puns, the best.

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Bubble Funnies

Price: $10 – $30

We’re flipping the script here for a second to clue you in on a line that may look like trading cards but isn’t exactly trading cards. Amurol’s 1981 Bubble Funnies line was an assortment of baseball card-sized comics with pocket-sized adventures from The Amazing Spider-Man, The Incredible Hulk, Captain America, Spider-Woman, Archie, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Because they were somewhat hard to find and the retail cost was more than the average wax pack, the line died after its initial six entries. Bummer.

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Marvel Superheroes First Issue Covers Set

Price: $89 – $170

Discussions of non-sport cards tend to focus on the major distributors like Topps, Fleer, Donruss, Skybox, and Upper Deck, which is a shame because sometimes sets released by independent vendors get lost in the shuffle. Case in point, this 1984 release from the Fantasy Trade Company which showcased the first issues of Marvel’s most beloved comics. From Spider-Man to Werewolf by Night and everything in between, this series was packed with unforgettable covers on the front and trivia about their respective books on the back. This is a line that doesn’t have the popularity of its big league brethren, but it is unmatched in terms of its coolness cachet.

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Batman Movie Trading Cards Set

Price: $12 – $30

The two sets of cards based on Tim Burton’s 1989 Batman film are the most easily available entry in this overview. As common as these things were, they also were the entry point into the world of card collecting for a generation of fans. If you’re one of them, then these are nothing short of priceless.

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1992 Skybox Marvel Masterpiece Set

Price: $39 – $75

The mind boggles at what contemporary trading card collecting would be like without Skybox’s 1992 Marvel Masterpiece line. This set gave a cool factor to non-sport cards that hadn’t previously existed, making long-time hobbyists feel vindicated and new fans eager to get each of the line’s 100 cards. The future began here, and we haven’t looked back since.

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1995 Fleer Marvel Metal Inaugural Card Set

Price: $200 – $350

Along with the various Skybox lines, the so-called Marvel Metal card sets from the Philadelphia-based Fleer Company helped usher in the comics-related trading card boom of the 1990s. These highly coveted collectibles weren’t made of adamantium, but for fans it was close enough. The talent involved in the production of the inaugural 138-card set included George Perez, Jim Lee, and Adam Kubert, adding an air of authenticity to the proceedings. Looking back at the iconic debut series of Marvel Metal cards nowadays offers a welcome flashback to the frenetic fun of collecting in the 1990s.

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Upper Deck Marvel Ages Lenticular Puzzle Spider-Man Cards

Price: $150 – $300

This four-card set from Upper Deck’s current Marvel Ages set recreates one of Spidey’s darkest moments by recreating a legendary scene from The Amazing Spider-Man #50 through four interconnecting lenticular 3-D cards. As you can see, these are absolutely stunning. More than that though, they illustrate how far the card collecting hobby has come over the last 80 years. Despite the technological advances that differentiate them from the earlier entries on this list, these cards share the same purpose as their bell-and-whistle-less counterparts – to dazzle anyone who holds them in their hands.

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janeykath318 · 7 years

Text

The Oops Text (Jim/Reader)

200 follower celebration fic requested @flirtswithdanger

For the rest of your life, you’d wonder how in the world the Great Text Mistake happened, but you laughed at the great get-together story it made.

You worked for a large news magazine writing a small fashion column every week, hoping to eventually move up to bigger things. There was a lively gossipy community among your co-workers about who among the top brass editors was the most attractive and texts often flew back and forth secretly between you and your friend Jill over the merits and annoying traits of one James T. Kirk, lead Editor and heartthrob city.

“He’s gorgeous, all right, but too much of a serial dater. I’m not sure he wouldn’t tire of me quickly,“ you’d said often, trying to pretend like you didn’t swoon a little inside whenever you encountered Kirk.

“Good point, Y/N,” Jill acknowledged. “But even one date with him would be an adventure.” You were typing away busily, working on your analysis of the next month’s trends in casual wear when who should pop his head in but the big boss man, James T. Kirk himself. “Sorry to bother you, Ms. Y/L/N, but I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your last article. Clever, witty, and very useful information. You do a fantastic job.” Surprised, you gaped for a second and tried to pull your wits together. It was hard with him looking so messily dignified, hair falling over his forehead and a crisp white shirt that clearly was not in the state he’d arrived in, judging by the loose tie and rolled up sleeves. His neatly trimmed beard was as perfect as usual, though. “Thank you, Mr. Kirk,” you managed at last. "I confess I don’t know how the latest styles in handbags are of use to you, though.“ He smiled, showing the crinkly lines around his eyes. "Well, when I’m shopping for my next man purse, I’ll know what’s hip and cool now. I carry around all kinds of stuff, you know. Anyway, great job. Have a good day.” Just like that, he was gone again, leaving you more than a little flustered. You grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts, eager to text Jill. Just got a visit from Jim! He’s even hotter close up!! The man should be illegal, I swear!! With the little woosh sound the text was sent and you went back to writing away happily. Minutes later, your phone vibrated and you checked it expecting a teasing reply from Jill. I’m flattered you think I’m illegally hot, but I think you meant this for someone else. Horrified, you looked at your sent text and sure enough, it had gone to Jim instead of Jill. In your hurry, you hadn’t looked closely enough at the contact and hit his name instead. Mortification flooded through you and you wanted to sink down through the floor and disappear. Now, Jim probably knew about your crush and it would only inflate his ego more, if he wasn’t laughing at you. “Someone, please kill me now,” you moaned to yourself, face bright red. All you could do was hope Kirk had a sense of humor and wouldn’t reprimand you for hitting on him or be a smart aleck about it. Needless to say, when he requested your presence in his office later that day, you did not tell Jill, not wanting to admit what happened. On shaky limbs, you rode the elevator up two floors and entered the outer office, greeting Kirk’s assistant Janice nervously. “You can go on in. He won’t bite,” she said with a smile. You nodded and knocked on Kirk’s door, deeply regretting your life choices in that moment. “Come on in, Y/N,” Kirk said suavely. “I’m very sorry about what happened sir,” you blurted. “I assure you it was a mistake and I have no intention of acting inappropriately towards you. I promise I’ll behave if you won’t tell Spock.” Spock was just below Kirk in the hierarchy and severely strict about rules and HR stuff. You were lucky you hadn’t been called to HIS office instead. “Hey, don’t worry about it, Y/N,” Kirk said soothingly. “It was an innocent mistake. Trust me, I would never report you to Spock for an accident. In fact, I called you in here for an entirely different reason. Have a seat.” You slowly sat down in the comfortable chair that faced his desk and watched as he fiddled with a pen. After a minute he turned his gaze back to you. “You’re really good at what you do and I’m told fashion isn’t where you see yourself long term. Is that correct?” “Yes, Mr. Kirk.” “Well, I’ve been looking for someone to fill an upcoming opening day in the Art and Culture department doing features on up and coming artists, musicians, actors and whatnot. I know it’s not a big step up, but I thought it would be a good fit for you after I read some of your profiles of designers. Made me realize we were wasting your talent analyzing purses. Would you be interested?” “Very much so,” you said, breathless with delight over the prospect of being able to cover real human beings again. Kirk smiled again and you smiled back because it was so contagious. “Excellent. It’ll be about a month yet. I wanted to give plenty of time for transition and for you to think about it if you weren’t sure.” “Oh, I’m sure, Mr. Kirk.” You said confidently. “FYI, you can call me Jim, unless we’re around Spock. It really makes me feel old.” He rubbed at his slightly greying beard and looked comically dismal for a moment. In that instant, all your protests about not wanting to date someone like him seemed far away. You swallowed hard and reigned in your stray thoughts. “Thank you very much, Jim,” you said. “This means a lot to me and I will make the most of the opportunity.” He leaned over and shook your hand, holding it just a tad longer than normal, before releasing it and saying brightly “Excellent, Y/N! I’m sure you’ll be great.” Once you’d retreated to your own office again, you pumped your fists in triumph and spun around in your chair, giggling with hysterical relief. You picked up your phone to text Jill about the news and saw you had another message from Jim. I hang out at Scotty’s pub every Saturday evening. You’re welcome to join me for a friendly drink if you’d like. Certainly that doesn’t count as being inappropriate? I won’t tell Spock if you won’t, you sent back with a winking emoji. Needless to say, you ended up going to the pub many times and hanging out with Jim, discovering that in addition to his good looks, he was a really fun guy and his reputation was both deserved (the really smooth operator) and undeserved (selfish rake). Jill was unbearably smug–until the grumpy doctor friend of Jim’s started flirting with her and she was too busy to tease you about the close proximity you and Jim kept when you were dancing. “Turns out you’re good at much more than writing, beautiful,” he murmured in your ear. “You’d better believe it, hotshot,” you whispered back. “And this is only the beginning.” He kissed you right then and there.

Who wouldn’t want to have him for a boss? I wrote this prompt fic AU because I wanted a bearded Kirk and it made the texting part more familiar, given that I’m not sure how PADDS do that in the 23rd century. My prompts are still wide open and the list of themes and characters is up.

@imaginestartrek

@outside-the-government

@trekken81

@star-trekkin-across-theuniverse

@trade-baby-blues

@medicatemedrmccoy

@yourtropegirl

#my fics #kirk/reader #modern AU #kirk x reader

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