Someone Out There Is Really Dedicated To Telling Me To Kill Myself At Least Once A Day Through My Ask

Every time I see someone complain about Red Robin's design, specifically his cowl, and that it's ugly and makes him look old...

Honey, This bitch has no spleen? He is planning ahead for his sick days when one of the other bats has to dress up as him. The cowl will be useful. And it's probably got at least a little protection and padding, which is a good thing.

I want y'all to remember how goofy Bruce looked in Nightwing's uniform when he pulled body-double duty for Dick. The dude was noble, but he was not serving Nightwing.

(Plus, can Bernard can wear it and they can have a sex scandal to distract people at any point in time)

The thing my mind keeps going back to is when Steph is at the very start of her Robin training... And Bruce and Pennyworth just give her one of Tim's uniforms to train in.

And it's fucking uncomfortable for her because she is a physically different person. She can't move in the damn thing without something tearing, her getting a wedgie, or her getting winded because her boobs are so compressed! And yet, Bruce and Pennyworth make such a big deal about how they guess they'll have to get her a uniform that fits.

Even getting part of the cave sectioned off so that she can change in private is shown as something she feels she had to earn.

It was so frustrating to read that whole damn arc.

I'm not going to claim Steph was perfect or that every decision she made was right, but it was so clear that she wasn't being supported like she should have been.

Every so often, DC is reminded by Steph fans that War Games is a thing that happened and that its many injustices against her and her fans still need to be addressed and every so often, DC responds with a comic that says "Bruce was right to manipulate and fire her and she deserved to be tortured and killed"

I love this, I love this, I love this, I-!

This is my favorite kinda thing. Taking accepted canon and asking yourself, "but what if Unreliable Narrator? What if fronting?" Taking fanon interpretations and tilting them sideways a bit, looking at character traits from a different perspective.

And crossovers are just so much damn fun to do this with! The rules of engagement change around. The timeline becomes more of a suggestion. There is resting potential energy in every interaction!

The idea that John Constantine uses his rumpled, chain-smoking, tired lech of a person as a work uniform? Genius. Brilliant. Machiavellian.

Batman's disguise is being stupid. Superman's disguise is glasses. John Constantine's disguise is business casual fatherhood.

I am so excited for more of this! I've not seen this be explored before!

I love love all your writings!!

I like your depictions of John Constantine.

I'd like to see you write the sad trenchcoat persona as just that a persona in the same fashion as how Brucie Wayne is a persona.

Maybe he's been the de-aged Danny/Dannies father for years and is an actual functional adult. The sad trenchcoat is just used to keep people from calling on him to frequently because he's a dad and has dad-like things to do.

He could help tim with the time stream thing, like 'oh, yeah that does look like Bruce. Alright kid pack a bag we're going in the time stream I know a guy. No Nightwing I'm not joking this looks like solid proof'.

Maybe Bruce has a oh shit he's actually competent and could kill me, that's hot moment. (Kids I have found your other father, help me get him home)

"I would love to offer more of my time to waste on monitor duty, but I have a previous engagement. A particular fit lady needs help getting her dress on the floor. The cloth always gets stuck on her horns. " John leers, wagging his eyebrows at the grimaces his words cause.

He takes a puff of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke like a drowning man. He never smokes at home, not with Danny's sensitive lungs or Dani's general disgust at smoking, so he only had the chance when called away on missions.

Plus, Danny was trying out for ballet soon, and he wasn't going to ruin his son's chances of being a star because of his own poor habits.

It helped that the rest of the heroes believed he was consistently pumping nicotine into his system. Rather irresponsible for the hero to publicly commit frowned-upon activities - at least in the States. Back home, no one cared that much.

It didn't matter that the Justice League was a global team; the main hard hitters and founders were nearly all American, and they tended to uphold those social expectations, either subconsciously or not.

One more reason why they shouldn't bother John, he can't have him smoking at a big awards ceremony or seen going through an entire pack of cigarettes mid-fight. Oh no.

John Constantine was one of the best magic users of this universe, but he was a last resort. There were plenty of other magic users like Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Zatara, or even Etrigan that came to mind first.

John was likely too busy drowning his misery in bottles or the arms of any willing partner. That's what they all thought.

Or more importantly than what he wanted them to think.

"Well, this has been a time." He announces, snapping his fingers to open a portal to his house. "But I have to run. My lady needs a knowledgeable hand to help her-"

"Enough," Batman growls. Though he has complete control over his emotions, John can tell he's irritated by the meaningless detail. He smirks as the hero waves a hand, "Just go."

He offers the rest of the meeting room a cheeky two-finger salute as he struts out, letting the portal close behind him so his trench coat flares dramatically. It's a nice view, he's sure, but it's also unnecessarily showy, and he is sure at least three pairs of eyes are rolling at his exit.

A chuckle escapes his mouth, straightening from his slouch to properly stand straight and bend it far enough to pop. Goodness, his act always leaves him with a sore upper back; maybe he shouldn't hunch over so much, even if he was playing the part of a no-good punk.

John only had a few seconds to shiver at his own thoughts- he was a punk. A real one! He was in a band!- before he heard the tell-tell sign of a rapidly approaching double set of footsteps echo down the hall. He scrambles to fling his lit cigarette into a water portal, chucking the pack for double security, while summoning a random suitcase from thin air.

All that's left is his rather eye-catching coat, a little too worn down and old to work well with his well-put-together outfit underneath. Without it, John has a clean, pressed white shirt, a respectful tie, and a pair of slacks that make more than one head turn as he walks.

All in all, he looks like the office businessman his worthless father always wanted to be.

John throws off his coat over a chair at the same time the door is thrown open with a pair of excited yells. "Welcome home, Dad!"

A grin stretched across his face before he could think about it, feeling his heart swell at the sight of them, as he knelt down, arms open wide. Two tiny bodies slam into him without a second of hesitation, nearly knocking John backwards.

He lets out a soft grunt as Dani's arms attempt to wrap around his left arm and right shoulder. She clashes against Danny, who's trying to bury himself into John's right side, little face squished against one of John's pecs, like a bunny burrowing into the snow.

"Hello, my little lambs!" He gushes, squeezing the kids close. "How was your day with the House of Mystery? Did you two behave?"

"They were angels," Black Orchid confirms, gliding into the room at a much slower pace. They had their regular, impassive expression on their faces, but John could tell that Orchid was happy with the kids by the way they gently tapped the tops of the children's black hair.

"Dad! Dad! Now that you're home, can we please go get my new ballet shows?" Danny begs, bouncing on his toes.

For a moment, John doesn't see his son, but rather his own blue eyes staring up at his father, when he was also five, begging to join Lily, the next-door neighbor, in beginners' ballet class.

His father had beaten him nearly to death for wanting such a girly interest. It was the last time they spoke about it. It was also the last time John ever bothered asking to start new hobbies.

"Dad! Dad! Can I do Karate?" Dani asks then, snapping John from his memories better left buried, as she presses her check against her brother's in an attempt to get John's attention. "I want to break a board with my fist!"

He gives the children another squeeze, laughing at the squeals he gets. "Of course you can do karate, little lamb. We're going to get your brother his shoes, and then I'll find a gym that offers the classes at the same time."

"I already provided that service." Orchid cuts in, holding a flyer for Flying Graysons' gym, founded and run by the eldest Wayne in Gotham. "I took the liberty of signing Danny up for a class with Casnadra Wayne, and Dani will join Duke Thomas's class. It starts in a week."

"Plenty of time to go get them everything they need and a new book series for our bedtime stories," John announces, loosening his arms so his children can cheer and bounce up and down in excitement. His knee is starting to cramp up, but he ignores it so he can hold his kids.

It's moments like these, so small and mundane, that John is grateful he thought of his persona. When he first learned how to use the magic he was gifted, he always made himself available for any crisis.

This was before the Justice League days, so anyone who sought him out was familiar with the occult world. He adored helping, and he built an incredible amount of skill and knowledge in magic, but soon John was facing disaster after disaster, dragging his exhausted body from one place to another.

Those who came searching for him never cared. They wanted John to jump at the drop of a hat. He tried for years to always be ready, always be willing, but years of isolation and desperate battles tried him to the core.

Then he took in Danny and Dani, finding the pair of babies in a basket at the feet of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. He had gone to investigate the legends of the famous King Pariah Dark, only to find what he assumed were originally sacrifices, well and truly alive.

Their names were attached to their feet with a letter written by a Jazz Fenton begging the two to grow and live well. She had died to save them. In her honor, John kept their names.

Daniel "Danny" Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Fenton. He often wondered what Jazz had been to the kids, with their identical last names. It is a question he will never get the answer to.

They could have been no older than five months, but when they opened their eyes and reached up for him, John realized he no longer wanted to be the go-to man of magic.

He wanted to be their father.

To discourage people from calling him away from his children, John created his persona of a man barely honorable enough to join a team. Over the five years of his raising his kids, his reputation plummeted until only Batman called to him unless absolutely necessary.

It was a breath of fresh air. John had fought for too long and too hard. He was retired now, just like his band days, the days when John would speed off to save the world were behind him. He only stepped in if a friend asked for a favor.

He had other priorities now.

The best part? The Justice League would never know that.

"Dad!" Dani screamed into his ear, making him grimace.

"Inside voice, darling."

"Sorry." She twirls her fingers, a nervous habit she picked up from John, before brightening up "I'm just super excited. Orichad said Mr. Bruce Wayne will be at the gym! Do you think he'll sign my Wayne Space shirt?"

Ah, yes, the man who was funding some space program or another. He only knew about this because his twins adored anything to do with space travel, as if though he couldn't just teleport them to a different planet.

"I'm sure he will, darling."

For the authors and the curious

LISTEN UP MOTHER FUCKERS

SEE THIS WEBSITE? 

ITS CALLED WOLFRAM ALPHA

THIS IS THE BEST GODDAMN WEBSITE FOR ACADEMIC SHIT. FUCK GOOGLE. 

THIS MOTHERFUCKER WILL LET YOU SEARCH “HOSPITAL BEDS IN CHAD VS. IRAN” 

AND IT GIVES YOU A STRAIGHT GODDAMN ANSWER 

MAYBE YOU’RE NOT INTERESTED IN DOCTORNESS OF THIRD WORLD COUNTRIES COOL SHIT 

HAVING TROUBLE WITH MATH?

HOLY SHIT

OR MAYBE YOU WANNA DICK AROUND

WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT

I love the StephCass ship, I just also want to give Cass more choices and chances to slut it up.

Cass's character is a wonderful mess of body autonomy issues, brainwashing, trauma, and stereotypes about disabilities. The fandom paints her as being a pure and innocent creature of mental fortitude and emotional perfection and that's fun to meme on, but in reality?

In reality, get her some hoes. Let her explore herself, let her date around, let her reclaim herself sexually, let her get really toxic with that one ex who shoots up a car when she dumps them.

Have you ever met someone who grew up in an extremely regimented household? You know the type, the ones where the parents need to know where kids are at all the time and who they're with and what they're doing? Home by 8 every evening, no cussing allowed, healthy snacks only, no controversial conversational topics allowed, no films or shows or books or music that hasn't been approved by the parents?

Remember what happens to those kids the moment they start living on their own?

Give Cass that crashout. Please. It makes sense for her character to go unhinged in her civilian life. And not in the comic book sense of Tim's bad year, but in a general "I had a one night stand and found out I also slept with both his sisters earlier this week" kind of disaster.

POKEMON VIETNAMESE CRYSTAL

Don’t mind me, just sharing a thing of glory.

People who say Bernard is boring are admitting to skill issues. Like, you really can't think up anything about him? This guy? This little whacko is dull to you? He is so chock-full of potential. He has years of potential angst or hilarity we haven't seen. He's a great reminder that Gotham is full of people as "boring" as anyone else in the real world.

He's just. He's a guy. He's a guy in love.

Just things

During the AIDS crisis it was not uncommon for queer couples to adult adopt each other so they could make medical decisions or be allowed to legally inherit.

If gay marriage gets repealed, this whole country is going to become Alabama.

Be gay, do crime, get those benefits.

Okay, okay, okay. More Bat-family brainrot to throw out into the void.

It's generally accepted that none of the Bats really enjoy going to galas or schmoozing with the upper class Gothamites. It's a fun enough joke or point of resentment or a good way to excuse the absence of other characters.

But consider the parties from a new angle: Galas are how the Bats patrol the ultra-rich areas. (I mean, that's where Epstein recruited his victims, right? And rich kids don't get their drugs from street corners)

Gotham vigilantes spend weeks swinging around on the main island, fighting street crime, foiling plots, etc. Gala Night is when they get to go hunting for the big fish, ya get me? They are so eager to dive into a Gala and find the tea.

It's a tech-heavy production, I'd wager. If your phone is on, it's being cloned. So many listening devices and/or cameras slipped into decorations or are being worn by the Bats. They're everywhere, popping in on conversations, encouraging people to talk about themselves, disguised as servers, disguised as other guests.

Hey, shout-out to Marvel who made their (at the time) front runner, most popular and profitable hero into a domestic abuser by accident. And I don't mean "accident" as in a writer made a bad character decision that was signed off on, I mean "accident" as in there was a literal miscommunication between the writer and the artist.

Can you imagine suddenly becoming a wife-beater because two of your gods missed a memo? Wild.

BUT! Instead of retconning this, the team leaned into it, made it lore that Ant-Man's tech was giving him mental problems and emotional instability. He faced consequences and had to struggle with himself as a hero and as a person. It's a fucking great plotline, it's a fantastic story hook!

It's depth and recognition of brain disorders and loving someone and divorcing them anyway because you have to put on your own oxygen mask first. It's realizing that your long-term plans are crashing down around you because of a physical injury no one can fix. It's an identity crisis. It's losing friends because being a caretaker is hard.

It's retiring a character for legit in-world reasons and allowing someone else to take up a symbol. It's about creating a legacy.

Marvel lost a major money-maker during this time, but holy shit did they get to tell a story.

This is the stuff I think about when I get frustrated with DC's restarts and quick retcons; what kind of intense, personal storylines could we have seen play out if they just allowed their characters to make those mistakes? Take those terrible actions?

I don't want to see something awful handwaved into "it didn't actually happen", I want to peel open a character's mindset and motives and understand why it did. Give me the introspection. Give me the reasons. Give me them acknowledging mistakes.