Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
izzy's playlists!
if i look back, i am lost
Show & Tell
i don't do bad sauce passes
Misplaced Lens Cap
No title available
Three Goblin Art
noise dept.
blake kathryn
Mike Driver
occasionally subtle
Xuebing Du
No title available
will byers stan first human second
Stranger Things
h
taylor price
Product Placement
Peter Solarz
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Türkiye
seen from Chile
seen from Netherlands
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
@acro-bird
[text: Damian] so [text: Damian] my dad isn't home
[text: mar’i] why does that even matter.
[text: Damian] Dad isn’t home [text: Damian] I can do whatever I want [text: Damian] I have the ENTIRE HOUSE to MYSELF for SIX HOURS
"Dad isn't home", huh?
"You also don’t need your allowance raised."
"I was a Flying Grayson, y'know. Feels like I'm not getting that level of respect around here."
"Fine, forget I asked. But you're getting another comedy tie for Christmas that you're gonna have to wear at your big board meetings because it was a gift."
+ acro-bird
Oh. Well, isn’t this just a perfect disaster.
The primary haunt is, without any exaggeration, a wreck. Slade would have known this if he’d bothered to come check it the last time he was in Jump City. Being undead, power-drunk, and heavily bound to the will of Trigon has a way of impeding such things, but even so, he’s mentally kicking himself now at the accumulated damage. (Not that he’d mind the opportunity to kick Terra instead….)
Most of the back passages caved in, check. The computer systems, devastated beyond repair, check. Hairline fissures and miscellaneous new openings in the ceiling allowing the machinery to weather and rust, check and check. And, so far, every intact store-room looted by the Titans? Check.
Damn it, none of them even managed to impale themselves. He’d spent hours on that particular trap!
So, of course, in the hallway leading down to his final hope (the bottom level, the last storage space), of course the final straw comes drifting down to break his back. Robin! It had to be Robin! Who else would come back here after over two years? Never mind why the Boy Wonder headed for this section of the haunt in the first place. Never mind the distant murmur of communicator chatter growing louder. What to do now?
The only way out from here is down, but unless he runs, he won’t make it—and the sound of his boots will echo back up the passage. Does he want to put that sound into Robin’s paranoid head? Obviously not. But can he hide well enough to render that option the greater of two evils? Slade nearly groans and gives the whole game away. Nearly. Instead, he presses the mask close, locking it in place, and presses himself hard into the shadow of the next curve.
What he wouldn’t give for a cave-in.
He's edgy, stressed. He always has been when it comes to Slade - and it always does come back to Slade when it's about the Titans. Every mission, every alert, fight, crisis, ambush; every little twist and turn driving Robin closer and closer to the edge of sanity; it all traces back to Slade.
It's like he has the Titans in a cloying web for his own amusement, watching and taking pleasure as they run all over the place trying to save their city and piece things together. Robin knows this all too well by now, which is why he's back at the old lair right now after two whole years - because, no, he just can't trust that Slade is gone. It's a paranoid worry, running laps around his brain and pinching at his nerves even though he knows that, logically, there's hardly any human chance Slade survived Terra and Trigon.
The team are sure he's overthinking things, but Robin's exchanged glances with Jericho and the Ravager and he knows they don't quite believe it either. That's enough to keep him going, enough to have him here right now, because they know the masked man perhaps even better than Robin himself.
The empty caverns are colder and darker than before, overhead lights hanging from threads and wires now with the electricity long interrupted, but Robin still grimaces as flashes return to him of being pinned down on these floors, against these walls, in a costume which didn't belong to him while threats to his friends' lives were whispered into his ears. The muscles in his shoulders ache just at the memory of how many times his arms had been twisted up his back when he hadn't co-operated, his scalp prickles with how often heavy hands had tangled in his hair to pull it sharply (or sometimes to pet, which was worse by far), and for a moment he has to run a hand across his chest to make sure the bright yellow R is still there instead of... something else.
But it is there. He's still red and green and yellow like the Flying Graysons' prized little robin (instead of orange and black like someone else's precious bird), the shadows looming over and around him speak only of the dereliction and destruction of this godforsaken haunt, and the communicator holstered at his belt - subject to very frequent touches to ensure its continued presence - is proof that his friends are safe, that he can leave whenever he wishes whether he's found what he's looking for or not.
Being here is on his terms now. And that's... that's alright. He's feeling okay.
The Boy Wonder shines his flashlight around, his expression staying neutral because... well, he's not sure whether no sign of Slade is a good thing or not. He came down here wanting to find something, clearly, but would it really be for the best if he did? He isn't sure.
He'll have to keep looking, padding softly down the passages which aren't caved in and looking for some sign of activity. Anywhere.
There has to be something.
”I suggest you have your sources checked.”
"Idon'tneedyourcrummysuggestions."
i heard a rumour you were thinking about raising your beloved ward's allowance what's the situation there
"He didn’t deserve it. I believe a scratch on the Batmobile is reason enough not to raise allowances——in fact…I should lower for the same reason I didn’t raise it.”
"Very reliable sources say that was an accident!"
+ booyahxtastic
"Cyborg!"
Welcome home is on the tip of his tongue, but it's one of those evenings where Robin's been working so hard he's pretty emotionally stunted - so a nod of acknowledgement has to do instead.
The sentiment still exists in him somewhere, though, which is the important thing.
"How was your vacation? I see you've got new shoulder plating. Very snazzy."
To say that she was taken back by the comment was a bit of an understatement, as well as she hid it. No amount of therapy would ever console her of the fact that her father- as a teenage boy no less- looked at her chest and commented. And he got the style wrong, at that! A v-neck was hardly a chest window. This would never be okay. But she was a Grayson- she bounced back quickly.
"I suppose expressing concern when one is not immune to the cold is a bad idea then?” Nightstar said dryly, crossing her arms. Well, the Titans had confessed that her father wasn’t always one for manners. But she hadn’t expected something like that. Still, she let him finish.
"Correct. I wanted to meet you- and the other Titans, of course." She admits after a moment. "I’d be lying if I said I didn’t admire your team." Awkward situation that cannot be forgotten aside. After a moment, Nightstar sighs. "And there is something else, yes.”
"Can't believe your folks let you out like that." A mutter under his breath and a shake of his head - addressing the chest situation had been more out of horror than attraction. There was something weird about that, too - the girl was very cute, but it was like his hormones completely shut down and completely, utterly refused to be attracted to what was in front of them.
Weird. Not that Robin usually went around with hormones raging, but there was a distinct lack of anything more than passive appreciation - like he assumed one might feel for a sibling.; but he definitely had no clue who this was. Maybe he was coming down with something.
It looked like the girl had come to see the Titans after all, and she apparently already knew who he was. But something else? The leader of the ragtag team of superheroes folded his arms, leaning his weight onto one side of his body expectantly as he stood and analysed the newcomer carefully.
"And what's that?"
Mar’i stared. Deadpan. Expressionless. Same thing.
Both meant she was supremely annoyed with her father.
“Tonight’s your date night with Mom." An eye roll. ”Did you seriously forget that one?”
DATE NIGHT. That was it! Dick really needed to get a calendar and start writing things down instead of just assuming he'd remember everything - but then, to remember to buy a calendar he'd have to write that down somewhere, but to write that down he'd need...
Oh, Mar'i was still here. Right.
"My heroine." He gushed extravagantly, reaching to ruffle his daughter's hair even though she'd started ducking away from that years ago. "But any more sass about my memory and you're grounded again. For now, you're off the hook."
The blonde stopped dead in her tracks and the arm she had linked through Robin’s pulled him, making him swing and pivot around so he ended up facing her. Kitten stared deeply into his eyes and raised her hand to cover her mouth before lowering it down to her chest and saying, “Oh. My. God. You like Pumpkin Spice Lattes? I LOVEPumpkin Spice Lattes! They’re totally one of my favourite drinks! Oh my god, do you even realize what this means?! WE’RE DRINK-COMPATIBLE. Ugh this is so major, we have so much in common!”
Kitten squealed and giggled so happily as if the fact that the two of them liking the same drink was reason enough to get married. She clung onto his arm, hugging it even tighter, and started walking again, pulling the grumpy Boy Wonder not far behind her. “You know what we should do? We should sooo get Pumpkin Spice Lattes when they come out again! Oh my god, it’ll be like.. our drink – We have a drink! Aw, oh my god, this is so exciting!”
She led the way into the Starbucks and pulled Robin to the end of the line with her. During their walk to the coffeehouse, Kitten droned on and on, filling Robin in on the latest and juiciest drama of her friend group. “– So now, Tyler broke up with Carly for Kristen and they’re totally not friends anymore and Brit is being so dramatic and taking sides and not talking to Kristen at all anymore and she’s trying to get everyone else to stop talking to Kristen too. – Tall Passion Tea Lemonade, please! My name’s Kitten. Yes, like the animal, duh. – Like I get that it sucks losing your boyfriend to one of your best friends but like, love is love, right? Just let them be together! Besides, Carly was cheating on Ty so it’s not like it’s a total betrayal. It’s just all so stressful, like I don’t even know what to do.”
By the time Kitten finished her story, their drinks were waiting on the far counter for them. She grabbed hers and plopped onto one of the two single seat couches by the fireplace and motioned for Robin to sit in the other. She was gonna milk this little ‘date’ for as long as she could.
Oh, god, he should have kept his mouth shut. Of course Kitten would like Pumpkin Spice lattes - she'd probably Instagrammed every one she'd ever bought, too.
Robin usually bought himself coffee on the bitter side; but he had to admit he was a sucker for a sweet drink. The tendency to purchase the polar opposite was mostly because that was what he'd had back in Gotham after every late-night mission in the cold, something warm and thick and sweet, and to have anything similar alone in Jump City tended to make him pretty homesick. No, bitter coffee it was - better to torture his tastebuds than his brain.
Speaking of torture, Kitten's grip was seriously beginning to cut off the circulation in his arm. Robin could feel the prickling in his fingers already, but no amount of gentle wriggling to get the limb free was working. Kitten was clamped onto him like he was this month's Prada purse - which, for all the gushing attention she gave him and the lengths she went to to wrangle some of his time, he might as well have been.
Our drink. He'd never soil his mouth with Pumpkin Spice again.
"Uh... same." He addressed the barista weakly as Kitten yowled on in his ear about exactly the opposite of everything he cared about in the world. He probably would have listened more if she'd started spouting quantum physics, that was the extent of how bored Robin was. At least, in full, recogniseable costume, he didn't have to bother giving his name to the staff. One less headache.
Then he was practically ordered into a chair by the fireplace, and even though he wanted to groan as loud as possible and perhaps slam his face into the coffee table between them, Robin reminded himself that every minute here was a minute Kitten wasn't causing trouble somewhere else. Technically, he was still stopping a villain. Very, very, very technically.
"Sounds harsh." He replied once Kitten had finished her tirade for a moment; judging by her tone that she'd been complaining about something or other even though he'd barely taken in a word. Knowing his "date", however, she'd take that as full sign that he'd been listening the entire time and really, truly cared.
Did superheroes get medals? Robin wanted fifty on his doorstep as soon as he got back home.
"Look here, Bird Shit, I don’t have to explain my motives to no one. I do whatever I want whenever I want."
The Titan Leader’s pestering was coming off more and more as a threat to the Assassin. Whenever he felt pressured he typically reacted with violence. Push him far enough and the next step is genocide.
He had a tinge of respect for Nightwing. Despite having him on his back at every cut and turn he remained a strong leader. Batman chose well in training him but being a Leader meant knowing when to bite the bullet when this got heavy. And it would be soon enough.
"Terra was expendable. Just like Rose and Jericho. If I have to kill a few dozen more of your so called friends then I’m fine with that too. What part about mission completion don’t you understand?"
God, he really was insane. Talking about his own children like they were expendable commodities... Years of working alongside the Batman had taught Dick that so many villainous tirades could be chalked down to pure mental imbalance, but Nightwing was really starting to believe Deathstroke was just... evil.
"I understand just fine." He retorted. "But you're going to have me on your shoulders weighing you down every step of the way."
If Slade wasn't going to protect his family, he could bet his blood Nightwing would do it instead. He'd failed to protect Tara - if there'd even been anything left of her mind to protect in the first place - and had almost let Joe (god, Joe, that boy hadn't deserved what had happened to him) slip through the Titans' grasp more than once, but at least he was trying.
"You're insane. But you're not going to hurt us. I'm not going to let you.
“Da-a-a-ad!”
"Unless!" He adds dramatically, pausing for effect - because there is a way out of this eternal grounding, should his daughter choose to take it.
"--You can tell me what special date it is today. Because your mother's been hinting at something all week and I can't remember anything."
It's not Kory's birthday, he knows that. He doesn't think it's their anniversary... But what else is there? This is what children are for, really, to remember little things mothers and fathers forget about each other in exchange for shameless bribery.
"You could be making cupcakes for all I care. I still won’t give a care in the world." Slade replied back, sarcasm entrenched into his words.
"That contract is a lot deeper than you think, Son. And even so, I don’t give up on a mission. Ever. Especially when I’m threatened by a punk.”
Well, really, what had he been expecting? A pat on the shoulder and a "Sorry, chum, won't happen again"?
Yeah, right. This was an assassin. Deathstroke the Terminator; the one constantly, consistently responsible for irreversible damage to Nightwing's team. Why had he ever come expecting a conversation which actually went somewhere?
"I'm telling you, Deathstroke, give it up. You've already got Terra's blood on your hands, why are you still so thirsty for ours?!"
acro-bird
“…So am I still grounded.”
"For 'til college, Mar'i."
"As you can see I’m in the middle of something. What do you want?"
"I'm sore because you never showed up to my birthday party - what do you think I want?!"
The irritated banter is breaking out early today. Nightwing is stressed, and it shows.
"Stop coming after me and my team! Leave your stupid contract be, Deathstroke; we're doing good for the world."
acro-bird started following you
If there was one thing Nightstar had hoped against, it was running into her father. She loved him, really, but when he doesn’t even know you exist? Awwwwkward. Never mind the fact that she hadn’t even been born yet, that was irrelevant.
"It’s a little chilly for short sleeves, don’t you think?" She asked, blatantly ignoring her own preferred outfit- she took after her mother in terms of how to dress for certain weather, but she was also not entirely human.
"Little chilly for a breast window, isn't it?"
Quick-shot reply. Well done, Robin - looked like he still had some old Boy Wonder quips in him after all.
"You're a superhero." He continued, calculatingly, looking the girl up and down and inferring all he could from her appearance. "But not from around here. Probably out on your own path. Not human - unless those are really good contacts. Are you here because of the Titans or for something else?"
A little blunt, maybe, but Jump City was his territory now and Robin wanted to know everything when it came to the comings and goings of superbeings. He'd watched his mentor be vigilant in Gotham; now it was his turn.
Holy brown-bag lunches; Alfred packed tuna fish!
I love this job.
"For ‘til college?!"
"FOR 'TIL COLLEGE."
