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siddyyyyyyyy · 2 months ago

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It's All an Act

Actor!AU Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader

wc: 7.6 K summary: Actor!Bruce plays as your love interest in your up-coming movie warnings: afab!reader, both being about the same age, acting sex scenes on set (not real secs for now), reference to the Writer's Strike (2023) please don't arrest me, sassy and smug Bruce, making out a/n: got this idea while scrolling through pinterest, lost my mind somewhere during this, originally wanted to make a single part on it, but I think it's better if I make it a few parts instead. enjoy!

next part

Everyone knew you. Well, it was hard to find someone who didn‘t at least know how you looked like. The same goes to Bruce Wayne, but there is probably a chance that he is even more successful than you.

And that‘s exactly what you are trying to change with your new movie. Casting him as the main character and yourself as his love interest will get the media spiraling. Being a director and actor really does have its charms sometimes. And surprisingly enough, he accepted the role since he auditioned to it in the first place. Now you can finally get to prepare all the stuff for the filming days once you got all the other actors for each role filled, and the script finished.

There‘s no more satisfying feeling you get when everything seems to work out and it‘s time to actually film the movie. The hardest part is to keep it a secret for a few months until the production gets into working. But for now you are pretty satisfied with your work, getting some progress and even getting to test out new cameras for the movie, form a company that supports the production. Only thing that‘s making you a little weary is the actual success of the movie. What if he ends up getting even more popular than you? What if the movie flops completely and you need to somehow cover that up? What if you won‘t have good chemistry on set, even with two talented actors like you two? What if…

»Have you finally got the copy of the storyboard?«

Malva asks, looking to you with her usual strict look, one of your close friends waiting for your answer. She is working with the camera crew, has gone to filming school with you. Has sticked to your side through thick and thin, and she still gets ideas that blow your mind at times. Her ideas are mostly for camera directing, but that's the most exciting part in filming for most, so it really pays out.

At her question, you hand her the copy of the storyboard, getting to discuss some questions and how you actually imagined the scenes to look like, getting invested on talking with her that you don‘t notice your co-star arrive on set and search for the director.

»I‘m guessing you are the director? Sorry for interrupting.«

There is that bright smile in front of you that never fails to make you swoon for at least a split moment. No, actually, you can‘t stand the way he looks so perfect and has more prominent in media than you. Although it is a little weird when he mostly takes on smalled roles as side characters and rarely gets a main role like this.

»No, don‘t be sorry, I‘m glad you made it! We‘re still setting up some stuff, so you can get ready in trailer seven.«

He nods and gets to the trailer that is going to be his while filming, letting you have some more time with Malva and your crew to set everything up and start to film the first scenes.

You settle on filming the scenes in the middle of the movie, only able to use the setting for today and tomorrow, really hoping you won‘t film too long so the landlord of the property won‘t get angry at you.

Once settled, the filming starts and it goes by fairly nice and as planned. Sure, it was a little funny acting out a scene with him, playing a couple who‘s having an argument about their current state of relationship, even when they just met on set.

Either way, the crew and co-director are satisfied with the result after taking some more takes. Maybe this will be better than you‘ve expected. Until you realised what the next scenes were going to be. You hate yourself for writing this script. A sex-scene, seriously? Trying to overshadow your small worries, you get ready in your trailer with some help of your staff before you discuss the ‚choreography‘ of the scene together with Bruce and the intimacy coordinator. This loosens you both up, having a plan and also know what to expect from this scene, since you literally just wrote „They undress and have sex.“ What a creative script writer you are.

You don‘t know what you expected, but you didn‘t necessarily think that Bruce would be so open and chill about such a scene. During your discussion of boundaries and acceptable touching areas, he seemed like he didn‘t have any problem being touched anywhere, really. It was a little strange at first, but you quickly realised he probably just wants to get over with it. And that made you a little sad. He should be comfortable during the scene, not be annoyed and hoping for it to end quickly, considering filming usually takes a few hours. The co-director and you want some close-ups, wide- hots and midshots in order to edit it together as the best verion of the scene in post. Of course it‘s going to take hours and it‘s important to feel comfortable during the long filming hours together.

But he reassured you after asking him again with that charming smile of his, hating how perfect it looks like. You‘ve seen him on interviews and on the red carpet before, but seeing him smile like that never fails to make you wonder if he is actually real.

Finally, with everything settled and with the modesty garments on, you can finally film the ‚Reuniting Scene‘ with your co-star.

Your movie is about two past lovers who find each other gain after a few years, then getting together again. What a classic. The plot is however more than that. The main character, Bruce, or rather Andy in the movie, is a playboy and billionare with a secret identity. His love interest doesn‘t know this though and just wants to get together with him again, and he is way too naive to get in bed with you almost immediately after one cafe date. Playboy activities.

This means that the scene you are about to play is essential for the movie.

First, you start with wide shots. Easy done, getting a camera set up that follows your movements onto the bed. After getting some shots of Andy passsionately and messily kissing you while guiding you urgently to the bed, you already feel a little worn down. So, time for a break!

During the break, he approaches you to discuss the other stuff in the script.

»Just… how did you get the idea of this plot? I mean, a playboy having a secret identity as a hero? How did you come up with that?«

You didn‘t know he was a secret interviewer as well. But putting your slight surprise aside, you start explaining to him briefly what got you into this idea while trying to keep it as brief as possible. Also without telling him about your initial plan of getting more popular than him... In a way.

All the while he listens to the while you explain, listening intently while nodding along from time to time. Unfortunately, you got a little carried away while explaining him your reasons for the movie, having ended up info dumping on him a little about your researches you did for writing the script, which however made him listen to you even more intently.

»So, I also just watched a lot of videos and documentations about gun handling and missions from former private agents, so I can make this as believeable as possible, but I also feel like I still haven‘t mastered it quite well for now, even though I made sure the props are as realistic as possible and we have a good choregrapher for the fight scenes later on – « You ramble on as you get on set again, settling onto position on the bed while talking his ears off in the meantime. It doesn‘t seem like he minds though, listening to your words, while throwing in some small questions and check-ups as he is hovering above you on the bed.

»Yeah, you can put your hand on my thigh – and I also made sure to actually make the small mission Andy is in will be as realistic and logical as possible, but I‘m also a little unsure if the scenario is actually so realistic as it is…«

»You‘re really determined to get the most realistic movie of the year, huh?« He muses back once you trail off, looking to you once you are both finally in position on bed.

»What? How could you ever think of that?«

You retort sarcastically, not having noticed how much you‘ve been talking until the co-director just calls »Action!« for the cameras to roll and you have to act.

Your breath hitches subtly once you feel his hand ride up your thigh before landing at your collar of your shirt and starts to unbutton it in careful but rushed movements. Again, you have to follow the small choreography you both came up with earlier, your brain working quick to actually follow through and act as if this already feels like heaven. Finally, you get your head together and reach for the back of his neck to connect your lips, getting a small moan from both of you. His hands finally pry your shirt off and he disconnects his lips from you to trail them down your throat towards your chest, a small shiver running down your spine against your will.

You both agreed for him to have the upper hand in this, since he is acting as a playboy, and you‘d be lying if you said he isn‘t quite confident in his role. Your thoughts are quickly thrown away as you feel him press kisses against your temple and down to your jaw while his hands roam over your sides. Mimicing his actions, your hands feel across his lean back and press him further down towards you. A low growl escapes him before he takes your thigh in his hand to push it up against his side.

The scene ends for now, needing to repeat it for a close-up shot. You are actually grateful he has expirience in intimate scenes, not needing to give him any more instructions or tips since he has quite a good knowledge in it already. Repeating the same scene for the next shot was easier, actually having had a little time to prepare instead of being pulled away from your rant about your script. Afterwards, you get another break and take your time to actually collect yourself before continuing with the scenes. Your co-director pulls you to her side for a moment to look over the filmed scenes, not having expected for them to actually look… hot? Well, this is good, actually. It‘s a little strange seeing you on screen like this, but you knew you would need to look over the scenes either way.

Once satisfied, you get back to your spot to sit down and scroll through your phone, distract yourself from the scene you just filmed over and over again, feeling how mush your brain feels right now.

This time, Bruce doesn‘t come around to ask you about the plot and other stuff, probably having had enough of your rant earlier. You really tried to explain it to him briefly, but it ended up in a full ramble session.

Filming the last few scenes were a little difficult to master from the last hours of filming, but time came by faster than you‘d expected and it is time to pack up and leave the set for today.

◐

The filming days actually went by rather fast, and your work relationship grew stronger with Bruce. You had some fun actually acting the scenes out with him, even when the first day was just slightly awkward between you two. Currently, you are neck deep in a book, annotating the pages at the side with a red fineliner during your break. The colour matches the book cover. Bruce walks by and the book in your hand catches his attention. Reading the title, he immediately recognises it and steps up to you.

»My son loves this book.« You finally look up from the words on the page and lock eyes with him, being slightly surprised by it.

»Which son?« You ask slowly, being unsure if this question was offensive or not, even though he showed his rather dark humour early on and doesn‘t seem to be hardly offended by something ever. He huffs out lightly amused and answers your question without missing a beat.

»Jason. My second son. He is a big bookworm, I think he read more classics than school textbooks.«

»Well, he isn‘t the only one.« He smiles lightly at that and takes a seat besidde you, his cup of coffee still in hand.

»So, you‘re a bookworm? Or just to pass time?«

Honestly, you haven‘t exactly expected for him to strike up a conversation with you that seems to be genuine at that as well. The first talk he started with you was just about the script anyway and it was more to clear up his curiousness and slight confusion. This actually feels like he wants to talk to you and get to know you.

»I read quite often. At least when I have time, like now.«

You answer him and close your book, setting it on your lap before clasping your hands over it. Bruce takes your answer in, asking another question.

»And you annotate? What exactly do you write down?« That question throws you a bit off guard, trying to answer him without sounding like a total loser.

»Uhm… usually just my thoughts. And sometimes I analyse sentences, if I feel like it.«

Finally, Bruce seems to be a little impressed. Or maybe he is just good at acting surprised, which you wouldn‘t doubt he is doing right now.

»Really? So, you usually just leave simple comments or thoughts? That‘s actually pretty nice, but I wouldn‘t have the energy to do so.«

You manage a small chuckle at his words, not sure if you should be flustered or not. Was that even a compliment?

»Oh, I get it. Can‘t have much time to yourself with this job.«

He lets out a small laugh as well and nods in agreement, fidgeting with his coffee cup in his hands a little.

The conversation pauses briefly, Bruce speaking up again and looking towards you.

»Would you like to go out and get some coffee some time? Get a break from all this, wouldn‘t hurt right?«

Without much thinking you agree on it and set up a date for it, only later realising it sounded a little suspicius. Even if it was just a little suspicious, you won‘t let that go in your mind. He basically just asked you out. And typically enough, you didn‘t even notice it or gave it a second thought until later when he left again.

Was this genuine or was it just method acting? This would be a little too much for method acting, no? Maybe. Does this concern you even more? Yes.

Getting off the break, you continue to film the second act of the movie, already feeling like this will actually pay out in the end.

It doesn‘t really seem like he is method acting, more like acting out the scenes like a normal actor after practicing his lines thoroughly, and being confident in his performance. Besides, method acting has nothing to do with him asking you out. Method acting, also known as ‚The Method‘ is a form of rehearsal where the actors tries to understand his character and analyses their emotions in order to act it out as accurate as possible and to show the audience the depth of the character. While it is mostly common used for theater, it‘s also common to use it for film.

You are really trying to figure Bruce out. In past interviews he was nothing but charming and polite, strictly polite even, but on set he is no different. It‘s strange, most actors you‘ve worked with were at least a little chaotic and different on set, but not him. You hate to say it, but he is not like others. He has something more to him. A certain charm and touch you can‘t quite put a finger on yet. And being with him almost every day because of work is giving you the opportunity to check on it and find it out, but he is hard to reach as well. It‘s not like he is hard to talk to, it‘s quite the opposite. But your conversations have never been more than mere small talk and discussions about the script, that usually ends up with you rambling off about it. So, you are frustrated.

Eventually, you help the crew and technicians with putting the stuff away for today, knowing you shouldn‘t do it, but you can‘t just leave the studio without helping them with the rest.

Bruce catches you however and snatches the heavy camera from you so he can put it in its case without your back breaking halfway.

»Oh, you don‘t need to, I can- «

»None of that. You already work so much, it‘s only fair when someone helps you out. Besides, I like helping people.«

He ignores your words and just smiles softly, as he puts the camera gently into its case, it seeming as if it doesn‘t weight anything in his arms. The he handled it with such ease really hurts your ego a bit, but also makes you wonder what his workout routine is. Because there is no way he just didn‘t break out a sweat while doing that. Unlike you.

»We don‘t want to miss out on our small date, right? Or did you forget already?«

You don‘t see it but Bruce is ready to be rejected and made fun of with how surprised you look at him. But truth is, you really just forgot about the arranged meeting you both settled on earlier in lunch break, because of all the things you had to do today.

»No, sure we‘re still going out. I just… kind of, forgot about it, but I didn‘t! I mean, I just, uh… let‘s just go, okay?«

You tag him along to the exit and he leads you to the café he mentioned earlier, it seeming already cosy enough from the outside. He opens the door for you before choosing a place to sit at and goes to the counter to order you both a warm drink. He sits down across from you at the table again and just looks at you with a small but noticeable smile. It is quiet for a moment before he speaks up.

»What kind of books do you read again? Or any other hobbies you have?«

Is he really trying to just befriend you or are you just another hopeless case of delusional? Quickly putting those thought aside, you answer him and make it short this time. No rambling now. Once he finds out about your passion for thriller, he perks up and shares his own few favourites about thriller and detective stories. Although he tends to love real biographies and real incidents, there is a mutual interest for those gernes in books.

»It‘s a good thing we have something in common. But I‘ve never tried annotating books before like you do. Is it fun?«

You shrug lightly in response, answering him after a brief moment.

»Depends on the person, but I really enjoy doing that. I like reading through stuff and write down my own thoughts. I also underline sentences and just… use the book. I didn‘t buy it for nothing, right?«

He nods lightly to your words, probably not used to someone using a book to actually write in it just for fun. Most people see it as a crime to doodle into the pages fo your book, but you take pride in it.

»Could I borrow one of your books? Especially one that you wrote in already.«

The suggestion takes you by surprise, but who are you to say no to that? Of course you nod without thinking too much about it, already thinking about which book you will lend him.

»Sure, I‘ll lend you one! I‘ve waited so long for someone to ask me this, what book do you want? I can also just take the book I read today. I have read it over three times anyway.«

Now Bruce is slightly surprised but also glad you agreed to this so easily. He nods slightly, not wasting time on responding to you.

»Animal Farm? Sure, that sounds good.«

Even when the novella isn‘t a thriller or detective, he is still willing to read it just to get to know you even more and read through those silly comments on the sides. Reaching over, you hand him the book which he puts safely into his own bag before the conversation continues between you both and you end up chatting about other stuff as well and enjoy your coffee while talking. You don‘t even realise how much time goes by before the staff in the shop are slowly getting ready to close it, cleaning around and making sure you both don‘t want to order anything anymore. That‘s also when you see how dark it is outside, getting out of the shop with him and walk down the dimly lit streets side-by-side.

Once you are both back at the parking lot, he walks you to your car, making sure you won‘t get kidnapped.

»You know, we could read together in my library some time. If that would be okay.«

That thought put a smile onto your facce but you quickly mask it, not wanting to come off as too excited.

»We could, at least I won‘t mind. I don‘t want to be a bother in your home or anything.«

You respond, still trying to be polite but he seems to destroy it with shaking his head.

»You won‘t be, promise. I‘m sure Damian won‘t mind, and all my other kids only visit occasionally now.« Bruce reassures you, smiling a little at you as he stands before you, waiting for your response. Sighing out you give in, agreeing to the invitation.

»Fine. We can meet up some day to read. I‘m sure I‘ll have time in about a week.« Bruce nods and feels glad you will make some time for him to hang out again. Reading together in comfortable silence? There is nothing better in Bruce‘s mind.

◐

The silence is filled with tension while Andy is standing tall, still with his suit and pistol in hand. His lover is standing right in front of him, a look of horror on their face that makes his chest shred into pieces.

»I can explain...« Andy carefully starts and puts the safety on in his gun before placing it onto the table beside him.

»First you are some kind of playboy, now you are… a murderer?! Who are you really, Andy?«

His lover demands, voice trembling lightly as the tension only rises and rises more between them. With a small step, he tries to get closer and make sure his partner isn‘t freaking out totally.

»I am not a murderer, Bell… I‘m...« There‘s a dramatic pause before he continues, taking a deep breath.

»I am Strong Guy.«

Bruce is doing his best not to laugh at his superhero name from the script, clenching his jaw and keeping up his tense glare, waiting for you to say your next line. Even his damn children tease and make of him for accepting such role, but that‘s not really a surprise.It‘s only a matter of time when he will finally crack up, having warned you prior already.

»No way. You… can‘t be. How is that possible? But Strong Guy is basically from space, right? What… have I been dating an alien the whole time?«

You are in complete shock and disbelief. At least trying to seem like it. When you wrote the script, you really had to hold yourself back from writing a better scene than this. But Hollywood is demanding and only wants to please the poor viewers who are seeing the same movie over and over again, but in a different fond every year. At least the Writer‘s Strike is almost over and other, more legendary directors can direct more original and creative movies… well, depends if the WGA and other people responsible for that will actually care about anything other than money.

»Babe, believe me, I am still me. The Andy you know from high school and the same one you fell for all those years back.« Strong Guy, Andy, uses a softer tone with you now and looks genuinely desperate not to lose his partner because of his secret identity.

Your character isn‘t strong for that matter and gives in after a few more weak attempts of arguing, before the tension eases up and you both hug each other tightly, whispering sweet nothings against the other.

Once the scene ends, you have to repeat for another four times to get it in every angle and make sure you get the best takes. By the time that‘s finished, Bruce can already feel how drained he is after the dramatic and less than poorly written scene. Don‘t get him wrong, he likes the way you tell the story, but the dialoge couldn‘t be any more cheesy and… over-cliché in his opinion. Not that he would that say to your face.

Malva approaches you with a glass of water in hand, offering it to you to cool your mind after the rather intense scene.

»I‘m counting the days, you know? When you and him become… a thing?«

She elbows your side playfully, making you almost spill your water and choke on the sip you just took.

»Mal, what the fuck!«

»Fuck! Yes, when is that going to happen?« She inquires and awaits your answer curiously, seeming dead-serious. But you know her better than that. She is most likely just teasing and tries to force another crush on you yet again.

»I‘m not going to answer the question. We barely know each other.« You mumble back finally and sip on you glass of water in attempt to hide your tiny smile, glancing towards Bruce to make sure he isn‘t secretly eavesdropping on you two.

»Look, I‘m just trying to be honest. The way he looks at you? You can‘t tell me you haven‘t noticed. He is, like… so expressive with his eyes and so dreamy...« Malva trails off and sighs out softly, making you cringe lightly beside her.

You hush her quickly once the man you are both fussing over walks by, exhaling wearily and speak to your best friend again.

»Okay, I may have lend him one of my annotated books and he probably invited me to his library to read together. Next week, or something.«

Her jaw falls almost literally to the floor as she listens to you, in disbelief and is actually speecheless for a second.

»Oh, you have to tell me about how it went! You two already look so good together on set, I can‘t imagine — « You cut her off quickly by pressing your palm against her lips, embarrassed and also noticing Bruce being dangerously near your area.

This is going to be a hell of filming and hang outs in the next few months…

◐

You knew his house was big, but… you nearly want to throw up at how big and pretty it is. If there‘s thing you can compliment him, is that he has good taste in almost everything besides coffee. What sane person likes their coffee completely black and plain?

Walking up to the big double door, you ring the bell and wait patiently. Your wait doesn‘t last long as one of the doors swings open and a rather small boy greets you with a judgemental look. That‘s surely one of his sons. Jason, probably? No, he is too old to look this young…

»Hey there. I‘m here to meet Bruce, is he here?« You greet as polite and friendly as possible, always having managed to scare off children without meaning to. Or at least babies.

»Father should be inside.«

Politely enough, the boy steps aside and lets you enter, watching you intently as you take the interior in.

Feeling a little awkward, you decide to ask. »What‘s your name, by the way?«

He narrows his eyes at you and crosses his arms, answering your questioin that was meant to be polite.

»You are not worth it to know my na —«

»Damian! I‘m sure you showed her around a little and were polite, weren‘t you?«

Bruce hurries down the stairs and approaches you both, seeming only slightly tense as he awaits his son‘s answer, running his hand through his hair.

»Of course, father...«

Damian scoffs lightly and averts his eyes away from you to the floor, seeing some similarities between him and Bruce.

The older man smiles and steps beside you, eventually paying his attention back to you.

»Sorry, this is Damian. My youngest.« He finally introduces and gestures to his son in front of you, taking him in again and nod slightly. Damian is doing a poor job in hiding his displeasure on meeting you, grumbling something under his breath as he gives you a sharp side-glance.

»Alfred said he needs some help in the garden, why don‘t you join him?« Bruce uses the code word they settled on in case Damian should be somewhere that he isn‘t welcome to and gets the message, making his way outside to the backyard.

You watch him wander off in a rather moody demeanor, feeling Bruce‘s warm hand settle between your shoulderblades.

»I hope he wasn‘t a bother while I was gone. He can get… pretty angsty at times.«

He apologises but you quickly wave it off, actually being quite amused and not bothered at all.

»No, I get it. I was just as grumpy and annoyed when I was younger, I don‘t blame him.« At your words, he raises an eyebrow while leading up ustairs with him, walking to his library.

»That‘s interesting. I could never imagine you as a grumpy teenager though, what were you like? Also throwing a tantrum for not receiving the latest comic book?«

He teases lightly but also refers to one of his kids when they were a little younger and spoiled, all to his fault.

»No, I was more of a… rebellious kind? I hated it when people wouldn‘t take me seriously and protested a lot. Over the right stuff, though! Maybe you could call it a punk phase, but I really just wanted to be taken seriously and be understood, you know?«

Bruce listened to you explain while entering the library after passing the hallway, looking to you once again with a fond expression.

»You and I may have more common in that sense, then. I also tried to prove myself to others and threw myself into… some situations. But all for the right reasons, right?«

Maybe Malva was right. You should hurry up and claim this man for yourself.

Snapping your gaze away from him, you take in the big library you are both in, it being a spacious room with tall shelfs, full with books that go up the ceiling, and some couches around in the middle to lounge on. You genuinenly haven‘t expected for him to have this whole area as a library that‘s actually filled with so many books, being literally surrounded by them.

»So? Have you got a book to read? If not, you can always lend one from here.«

He claps his hands once and walks to one of the larger couches before sitting down on it, the book you gave him from your earlier hang out in his hands.

»Oh, I came prepared, I have my own book with me.«

You answer back and take a seat beside him on the couch, taking out the book from your bag as you lean back and start to read where you left off.

He shares his last glance at you before he foccuses on his book for now, feeling joy at the small comments you left on the sides of almost every page, being content just reading in silence for now while sitting beside you.

Some time passes and you both have read quite a lot over the time-being, itching for a small break. Alfred, his butler apparently, had got you both some warm tea and cookies onto the coffee table in front of you and left after saying his usual polite words.

Tasting the cookies, you have never eaten such delicious and not overly sweet cookies before. You need to steal his recipe later and make them yourself at home. The tea is just as good, still warm and having a comforting effect on you. Bruce speaks up, his body turned more towards you on the couch as he has his arm around the back of the couch, sipping on his cup of tea.

»What do you think of your book so far?« It seems like he always asks these questions on purpose, just to hear you talk his ear off about a random topic. But you answer truthfully anyway, looking to him now as you take a break from munching on those cookies.

»I really love the way Pushkin wrote about his wife in his novels, every female character he inserts seems to be his wife and he won‘t waste any time on sweet talking everything. But his works actually represent a path from Neoclassicism through Romanticism to Realism, or whatever they say, so… I just love how easy his rhymes are in some passages and how obvious that is that he was such a hopeless romantic...«

You glance around the library as you talk, eventually trailing off and checking in to see his reaction. He leaned his head against his fist from his arm that rests on the back of the couch, eyes ever so tender and nonjudgemental. Almost loving.

»You okay?« You ask finally, unsure because of his quiet demeanor and how he just stares at you. How long has he been staring for?

»Yeah. Just wondering if you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.«

Now you feel offended, no matter how much he‘s flirting with you right now.

»Nonsense? I think you just lost your mind, I never talk nonsense, especially not about my favourite writer.«

Bruce can‘t help but smile at that, glad you didn‘t react badly to what he just blurted out without actually meaning to.

»I‘m sure everything you say is logical and accurate, but I —«

»Oh, so you weren‘t listening the whole time? Why do you even bother asking me about those —«

This time, you are the one getting interrupted and he puts a gentle hand onto your knee to try and soothe you.

»Because I love the sound of your voice.«

Oh, you froze. Bruce is panicking, he never thought he would be so straightforward with his feelings towards you, but something about you just lets him let loose and be himself. It‘s almost scaring him.

But you didn‘t freeze because you were startled or shocked, but because you never expected for him to compliment you in such a genuine and nice way. And his hand on your knee is only making your case worse. As he is about to get his hand back to himself, you move closer to him and hug him as tightly as you can. Bruce stumbles slightly back into the couch because of the force of your hug, but doesn‘t waste any time on hugging you back. He is instantly relieved at your reaction, letting himself melt into the hug and rub your back lightly in return.

»Not good at taking compliments?«

You scoff at his teasing comment, leaning a little off of him to look into his eyes again.

»At least I don‘t tell people they talk ‚nonsense‘ just to compliment them later.« He rolls his eyes at your light jab, loosening his grip around you as he is unsure if you want to stay in the hug for longer or not. When you don‘t let go, he decides to follow your lead and just let you stay half on top of him with your arms wrapped around his neck. It could come off as friendly cuddling, almost, but there seems to be still some light tension between the two of you.

The fact that Bruce has invited you to his Manor to simply read together says a lot. It is well known to the media that he hasn‘t really been in a relationship, and that he doesn‘t go around dating or hooking up usually. Bruce Wayne is mostly a mysterious person to the media, talking and responding politely and patiently to the interviewers or reporters, letting his guard down only rarely among other people he doesn‘t really know.

Working together with him has shown you that he can warm up to people, especially when they share interests or just seem good-hearted. Like you.

You have shown him how coorperative and kind you are to all your staff and co-actors, he has seen some of your interviews as well. Being kind and bringing a positive message is important for you, and you‘ve made sure to show it. Either through films or other actions, you managed to let Bruce believe there is still good in this world and genuine people. You aren‘t full of money, your beliefs are similar to his in that sense.

He hasn‘t realised it yet, but his hand traces mindless circles around your back as you two stay in the hug, your own hand lightly fidgeting with the back of his shirt collar.

As time passes and you two talk about whatever, the evening rolls by quickly and it becomes dark outside, making the atmosphere more relaxing. By the time you two have talked, you both adjusted your position more, his arms still around in a way while your body is laying mostly across his lap with your head resting against his chest. You didn‘t realize how comfortable it would be to lay almost completely on him, and you‘re trying to make it last.

He uses the opportunity to talk more about himself since you didn‘t really get the chance to get to know each other that much with work. Bruce mostly talks about his sons and daughter, describing their personalities as best as he can, telling a few funny stories here and there from their younger years, knowing they would kill him if they would find out he told you about it.

It‘s endearing hearing him talk about his children, listening to him with heart eyes as you stay in his arms, melting against his chest.

His voice smooth and low, a subtle rasp to it while he eyes dart around the room from one spot to the other until they land on you from time to time. He started to play with your hair at some point, twirling some strands around his finger before letting go and starting again, his hands always busy with something.

»Did anyone ever tell you how soothing you are? Like, I never expected for you to be so calm and kind until now. What‘s with the persona for the press?«

He looks down to you and continues to play around with your hair a little, adjusting his hold on you to let you stay comfortable against his chest.

»Everyone has an online persona. Like to stay more private about my stuff.«

He shrugs lightly, letting his arms stay loosely around you. That response makes you smile, leaning up a little.

»Does that mean I‘m special?«

Bruce can‘t help but smirk at that, shifting to make you face him more.

»I guess you are, yes.«

His warm expression makes you contemplate wether or not this has something more to it, if you both just really good friends already or more. The tension in the room seems thicken, especially with how close you both are right now on the couch. The library falls into a comfortable silence again, this time with both of you staring at the other. You study his features, realising how much prettier he is from up close. From this proximity, you can barely make out the faint freckles across his cheeks, making you want to study him more and find out about all the other faint or small features he has, taking pride in seeing such details.

He also focuses on your face, the way your eyes flit around his face and are soft in the warm light of the room. His hand carefully cups your cheek, feeling the soft and warm skin under his palm. Without thinking, you lean into his hand, looking back into his eyes.

It almost feels magical and surreal how close you are to him, realising you are both about to get even closer. Your heart starts to pick up its pace, but you don‘t pull away. Bruce‘s thumb brushes against your cheekbone, his adam‘s apple bobs briefly before he leans in, seeing how willing you are to stay close and closer.

Eventually, your lips meet and it feels better than any cinematic movie could ever potray a romantic scene. The kiss lingers before you break it, but stay close, your noses barely brushing together.

He trails his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, threading his fingers into your hair.

»Please tell me you wanted this just as much as me.« His voice is quite, careful. Warm.

»Genuinely? From the moment you invited me to your library.«

He smiles at your response, freely with his perfect teeth showing. Without further discussion, he presses his lips against yours again, making sure to be gentle, as if he could break you by being too harsh.

You tremble lightly in his arms, too enrupted by the sensation of the soft kisses to care about anything else. Getting the courage, you wrap your arms more around his neck and lean more into him, making him melt from the inside and become weak for you. You could do anything to him and he would happily let you. Is it a little too early to be so trusting? Maybe. Does he care or want to waste this time with you? Fuck no.

He sighs into the kiss and leans back further into the soft couch, making you follow and press yourself further against him. It becomes overwhelming, getting to sit properly on his lap, your hands on either side of his face, his hands resting contently at your thighs. And it happens.

You can‘t help it, you want – need friction from him, and buck your hips against him, earning a low groan from him.

His grip on your thighs tightens, breath starting to get shallow the longer you kiss. At his subtle reactions, you do that again, starting to grind lightly against him, your own breath growing heavier.

Bruce feels his head spin because of you, the way you are so eager to continue, to feel him more and to get more is making him fall even more for you. The fact alone that you are willing to trust him with your body is enough to get him going more, but he hates that you are both in his library at the moment and you are both nothing official yet.

He does what he thinks is logical and wants to be the responsible from the two of you.

His hands grab onto your hips, stopping you from picking up the pace or apply more pressure against him.

»Hey, easy… easy, we have all the time in the world, just...« He sighs out, loosening his grip on your hips once you simply sit on him.

»Did I do something wrong?«

You panic and look him over to see if you hurt him or made him uncomfortable.

»No! No, no, no, you never did anything wrong, I just… I don‘t want this to be our first time.«

As soon as he drops those words, you slump your full weight on him, slightly confused and disappointed.

»I just want you to have something better than having it in my damn library. You deserve more than that. It needs to be special.«

His hands settle on your waist, his hair slightly tousled and face flushed, chest heaving lightly as he catches his breath, but still feels breathless because of you.

You stay quiet for another moment, processing his words. It‘s difficult to do so, that sight in front of you is making you feral but he doesn‘t want to do anything more because… he wants to treat you better?

Now you are really starting to wonder if he is real. There is no way someone would be nice enough to actually stop making out before it escalates, just because he wants to make it special in another time.

»Oh… okay, then. I won‘t force you anyway.«

You shrug lightly, feeling disappointed. But you would hate to force him to something more. Bruce seems glad you agree on it so easily and lets his hands trail up and down your sides more until he sets you down beside him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

»Sorry for cock-blocking you, dear.«

He murmurs into your ear, making you flush and groan, elbowing his side annoyed; all the while he laughs amused.

←MASTERLIST

a/n: let me know what you think about it, hope you enjoyed it!

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month ago

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Tontos HC:

Tontos is the Bruce Wayne of the Woso world. Like she is the richest footballer (even more than Messi and Ronaldo). Like the company she inherits is something she can live off comfortably.

But the thing is, Tontos doesn’t want to be rich. She dumps a lot of funding into her parents company for the workers but increased salaries and more benefits equals increased productivity and retention, so the company is making more money. She gives full benefits to all employees (including part time and contractors) but this back fires as it becomes the #1 worker friendly company. When she sees she is gaining more money from this she begins converting her parents buildings into green buildings with a full plan that is successful to try and get rid of her money. This turns into a branched off business arm that is all for converting other companies’ buildings into green buildings, sparing no expense. It turns out to be so successful in an effective and cost efficient way that she is gaining more profit.

Tontos then goes as to so far as to slash her own salary in the company and invests it into the company but its just so successful she’s gaining profit at an alarming rate. Like she has more money than she knows what to do with. And of course this catches the attention of the media meaning more profits for her company.

Tontos next thought is to invest in her hometown and Barcelona. She makes sure all the buildings are up to date and funds schools, hospitals, charities, clinics, sets up trusts for every one of them, anything to get rid of her money, but by god she is failing at it. Miserably. Like somehow, some way, this is just feeding back into her company and giving her more profits. Like she is just becoming richer against her will.

Because of all this positive PR, people invest into Tontos company. Tontos practically begs for them to stop, only for her cries to land on deaf ears. Tontos then sets up a foundation to pay for everyone’s college tuition in her home town and Barcelona and it begins to work until the public realises what she is doing and also invests in the foundation and everyone’s college begins to be free. She gets so annoyed because she can’t even give her money to her own foundation.

So Tontos tries to invest in football. She funds all of Barca’s trips, gets them the best hotels and training facilities. The healthiest food, the best medical care, anything she can think of. She even goes so far as to fund the team and allowance so they can give their jerseys to children without it docking their pay. All of this just increases play and health among the team that they begin to win more and by a larger margin that their profits soar meaning so does Tontos money. The next step is to invest in other leagues like the NWSL and the WSL but the same effect happens. She even funds a majority of Project ACL but even with all this spending it barely makes a mark in Tontos wealth.

But Tontos lives with Mapi and Ingrid and all their teens and kids. Surely she can distribute some wealth amongst them. Mapi and Ingrid are as stubborn as the day is long and refuse to take any money from Tontos but Tontos secretly pays for everything thing like utilities and groceries. She tries to fund Dirtbag to go to art school but Dirtbag has come up with a mysterious way to give it back to Tontos and it frustrates her to no end. She tries to give some to Sol but Sol teams uo with Dirtbag and just gives it back to her. She’s put away a sizable college fund for all five of Ingrid and Mapi’s children so they can go to college debt free wherever they want and does this for Nena too.

At this point Tontos is just so frustated with trying to get rid of her money but can’t seem to find a way to spend it all. Like after a meeting with her accountants, Ingrid and Mapi just come home to Tontos lying on the ground with Toast in her chest just staring at the ceiling. When Mapi and Ingrid walk over to her to make sure she’s okay, all they get is “I have too much money.”

Okay so I actually love this and have more thoughts:

There's no board overseeing the company and no shareholders so the sole profits are going to Tontos so all of her profits are just being invested back and raising salaries and supporting local charities and Tontos takes the bare minimum because she's already getting paid by Barcelona and Norway to play football

She's trying everything she can to try and limit the amount of money she's getting but all she's doing is getting a very good reputation and people flock to her companies because she gives such good benefits and such good standards for management

She's paid off all of Barcelona's debt and is secretly funnelling money into Mapi and Ingrid's accounts even though they insist she shouldn't pay rent

She's paid for Dirtbag (and Sol's @girlgenius1111 ) uni tuition but they insist on paying her back someday but she tries to tell them that she doesn't want that

She pays for Teeny's art school and all of Sunshine's cameras and Skatt's terrarium and uni and Cub's cafe and Bebita's motorbikes.

She even spoils Toast to the max but no matter how much she spends and donates, it just finds its way back to her and she has no idea what she should do to get rid of it all

#asks #tontos #epicentre

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pluckyredhead · 1 year ago

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hi! i'm new to comics and i got in through reading your fics and wayne family adventures. i've since started reading more of the mainstream verse and i realized that most comic fans consider wfa to be totally fanon. you're one of the few i saw that disagrees. would you mind elaborating a lil on why? i'm too new to really form an opinion either way but i'd like to know your's!

(also yes i really did stalk your blog back years worth of posts i'm sorry! 😭😭)

Aw I love this! Welcome!

So I think it's really important to be clear on definitions here:

Canon means it's part of an official text. It's literally in a comic (or book or movie or other property) published or licensed by DC.

Fanon means it's made up by fans. That doesn't mean bad or good, it just means that it comes from fandom and is not part of the official text.

Wayne Family Adventures is an official licensed comic by DC, so by definition, it cannot be fanon. That doesn't mean everyone has to like it, but it's not a fan comic. It's an official DC product. It's not fanon.

Now, WFA isn't part of the main DCU canon. It takes place in a separate universe. The Jason in Batman #138 and the Jason in WFA are not the same and they are having very different experiences. (And I'm sure the Jason in WFA would be grateful if he knew.)

But that's no different than a comic that takes place in an alternate universe, like Dark Knights of Steel or DCeased, or a movie like Blue Beetle or a show like My Adventures with Superman. They all take place in their own universes, but all of those universes are canon. None of them are fanon.

What I think most people mean when they say WFA is fanon is that WFA draws on tropes and characterizations that are popular in fandom. Which...yes, absolutely. This is on purpose, and honestly, it pisses me off when people complain about it. (Not you, anon! Your question was lovely, you just triggered my unskippable cut scene of dialogue. Sorry lol.)

Wayne Family Adventures is probably the single best idea DC has had in the 20 years I've been reading comics. (The second best was the kids and YA graphic novel lines.)

I just checked, and WFA has 1.3 MILLION subscribers. That's more than every floppy comic starring Batman sells in a month, combined. It's more than literally any superhero comic has sold in decades - in this century! The combined strips have over A HUNDRED MILLION VIEWS. That is bonkerstown. That is a readership like DC hasn't seen since the 1970s. That is unparalleled success, and it's introducing characters like Kate Kane and Duke Thomas to a whole new audience.

Now, WFA was clearly designed to appeal to Batfans who were active on social media and fanfic sites like AO3 and Wattpad, and Webtoon readers. The readership of Webtoon is mostly young and female. Fandom as a whole is mostly female. The writer of WFA is female.

And maybe I'm not being fair here, but when I see people dismiss WFA as "just fanon," I always catch a whiff of "It's not a real Batman comic. It's a girl comic for girls."

I have spent the past 20 years begging DC (and Marvel, DC is not alone in this) to see women as a viable audience - as their largest potential growth audience! I have watched in dumbfounded frustration as they ignored the juggernaut success of Raina Telgemeier and Ngozi Ukazu and Alice Oseman running rings around the NY Times bestseller list and counted a 50k shipment here and there as a resounding triumph. I have literally seen them throw out survey responses from women because "those women had an agenda." (This is a true story. 2011 was rough, y'all.)

And all of a sudden, they gave us a comic actually catering to women and young people and fandom, and they put it on the most popular, current, modern platform for comics availably - and it's brilliant. It's smart and funny and stunningly drawn and every episode makes clever, inventive use of the scrolling format. They FINALLY gave us a girl comic for girls, and it's a masterpiece.

And yes, it riffs on fanon concepts. It also has its roots firmly in mainstream DCU canon. It references deep cuts. CRC Payne and StarBite know their shit. Jason Todd being a bookworm may be a fanon staple, but he does plenty of reading - including Jane Austen - in the 100% canon mainstream DCU comics.

It's not going to be for everything, because nothing is. It's completely fine if you don't like WFA. No one has to read it or enjoy it. If you're into Batman for the darkness and the crime and the ongoing plotlines and the angst, WFA won't be for you, and that's totally fine!

But to finally, finally be valued as a reader by DC, to have them do something smart and innovative and so, so well executed, and have the exact people they made it for dismiss it out of hand because Bruce has a "World's Okayest Dad" mug or whatever? Yeah, that chafes.

#wayne family adventures #this one's gonna get me in trouble

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gilverrwrites · 3 months ago

Text

★ Daddy's pornstar ★

Black Mask/Wayne!Reader, 4.8K AN: Based on, (but not 1:1) on this ask! It just activated something in my brain and I had to put it into words. I could kiss you anon! FYI, he's (partly) maskless in this one, just because I felt like shaking things up a bit. Warnings: Roman being absolutely foul, he’s a warning all of his own. Swearing, blackmail, dub-con, insults/name-calling, spit, ass to mouth but barely, spanking, choking, verbal degradation, unprotected sex, manipulation, lying, gratuitous daddy kink. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Excerpt: “Don’t look so glum, doll. You’re gorgeous.” Roman's gravelly voice is thick with conceitedness. More than usual. He’s seated just to the side of the camera, smiling at you like he’s the cat and you’re the cream between puffs of a cigarette. His eyes shamelessly rake across your body. “If you ever wanted to get out from your father’s shadow, you could make a killing in the adult industry.” “Please, I don’t want to talk about him right now.” You don’t even want to think about him. Not just because it’s a figurative boner killer, but because he’d be so angry, so disappointed in you and your actions. You stare at the blinking red light of the camera as you try not to recall the destructive series of events that had led you here. The reckless, downright stupid behaviour that had handed Roman the ammunition to bend you to his will. “Alright. I’ll be your daddy tonight.”

Selina had told you once, after helping your father take down an infamous Gotham-based trafficking ring that the little spiel adult actors give at the beginning of pornos was often complete bullshit. When Cherry Rose or Missy Sin said, “I’m of sound body and mind, and I consent to everything I’m about to do.” they were fucking themselves, metaphorically and literally. That as soon as those words were caught on tape, sketchy cast and crews could use it as a free pass to do whatever they wanted to those performers without repercussions.

That fact, while upsetting, hadn’t really solidified in your head until you were staring down the lens of a Panasonic camcorder, barely faking a smile as you made the very same speech, wondering how many pornstars had been blackmailed or otherwise under duress from the start.

“Don’t look so glum, doll. You’re gorgeous.” Roman's gravelly voice is thick with conceitedness. More than usual. He’s seated just to the side of the camera, smiling at you like he’s the cat and you’re the cream between puffs of a cigarette. His eyes shamelessly rake across your body. It’s not clear if he’s appreciative of you in general or of the sheer, feather-hemmed lingerie he’d picked out for you. It’s exactly the kind of thing you’d expect to find on the body of an heiress gone wild in the pages of an 80s Playboy magazine; cute but still a humiliating mockery of the rich kid archetype the media so loves to sexualise. From the shade of pink that compliments your skin tone perfectly, to the way it tastefully clashes with the bedspread, you're pretty certain Roman has put a lot of thought and planning into this whole production. “If you ever wanted to get out from your father’s shadow, you could make a killing in the adult industry.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about him right now.” You don’t even want to think about him. Not just because it’s a figurative boner killer, but because he’d be so angry, so disappointed in you and your actions. You stare at the blinking red light of the camera as you try not to recall the destructive series of events that had led you here. The reckless, downright stupid behaviour that had handed Roman the ammunition to bend you to his will.

“Alright.” His smile twists then, into something wicked and you will the heat growing in your stomach to cool. “I’ll be your daddy tonight.”

The suggestion simultaneously makes your skin crawl, and your hair stand on edge. You fight the lurch in your chest by scrunching up your face and glowering at his mask on the bedside table. It’s easier to be repelled by him when he’s Black Mask. He’s not really a person, he’s a symbol, a deity to all that’s wrong with Gotham and its seedy underworld. He laughs aloud, low and throaty, clearly enjoying your visible discomfort. God, you hate him. You hate his laugh. You hate his olive skin. His empty black eyes, his salt and pepper hair, the way he smells so good like sugar and spice and smoke. You hate the way he commands a room simply by being in it. But apparently not all of your body had gotten the memo.

“Agreed?” He says sarcastically, the implication that you don’t really get a choice hangs thick in the air and you nod in reply until he fakes a cough to draw your attention back to him. “Out loud, for the camera.”

“Yes…” He quirks a brow at you, eyes fixated on the shake of your breasts as you attempt to steady your breathing. The name feels wrong on your lips, you haven’t even called your own father Daddy since you were a little girl, but you manage to bite it out. “Daddy.”

“Good girl.” It shouldn’t, but the way he drawls the pet-name makes you feel flushed. “Well, what are you waiting for? We’re rolling.”

For the first time since you’d met him here, you look at him dead on, staring dumbly, hoping for at least a little direction. You’d never done this sort of thing before; you didn’t know where to begin. And you certainly didn’t want to perform so badly that he made it an excuse to have you do it all over again. He stares back at you, head tilted, eyes wide and hungry, watching you expectantly.

“Touch yourself.” He clarifies impatiently. “Play with your tits, finger you pussy, whatever you do when you’re lying in bed alone at night, wishing somebody would fuck you the way you need.”

But you don’t want to be fucked, at least that’s the story you’re feeding yourself. You half gesture to your nether regions as you whisper. “But I’m not wet yet.”

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, cause you’re not very bright, are you?” He states sharply, straightening his posture and biting his tongue in annoyance as he stubs out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. His patronising should piss you off, but instead you’re embarrassed. You wish you’d had something to drink before coming here. At least then you could blame your simmering arousal for his mistreatment of you on being tipsy. “Come here.”

He grabs onto your wrist, standing to tower over you as his gloved hands tug you across the bed. Much to your shock, he spit down onto your open palm, amusement palpable as he watches your shocked face.

“What’s the matter? Think you’re too good for my spit?”

“No.” You do. You are. However, ‘no’ instinctively felt like the right thing to say.

“No? Good.” The grin on Roman’s face is pure malice, it makes your heart drop and your knees weak. “Open your mouth for me.”

When you take too long prying your dried lips apart, Roman releases your wrists in favour of gripping the back of your head, yanking you back until your mouth falls open to cry out in pain. Before you know it’s happening you feel a glob of spit hit your tongue, and suddenly your bodies desire for him finally wins. You don’t need lube anymore, your folds growing slicker with each second sat under his burning gaze. The shame of knowing he caught it all up close and personal on film only fuelling the fire in your belly. Your whole body practically boils at your indigent actions as you close your mouth and swallow.

“Very good girl.” Roman offers his approval as he releases you, falling back to his position beside the camera.

“Thank you, Daddy.” You’re not sure where the sudden bravery comes from, but you reply cutely as you lay back on the bed once more, spreading your legs and showing the camera how your newfound wetness has started to seep through the delicate fabric.

“Beautiful.” Roman coos, and it’s the most genuine sounding thing he’s ever said to you. The confusing mix of pride and self-loathing has you grunting in annoyance as you push your fingers under your waist band and begin to run your fingers between your folds, collecting moisture from your leaking entrance and rubbing it against your sensitive clit.

You’ve masturbated many times before, but you’ve never been able to cum from your own hands alone. Now seems a bad time to bring this up, so you channel all your energy into it, building as much friction as you can with your hands and focusing your mind on how good you feel right now. Multiple times Roman has to whistle at you, drawing your attention away from the ceiling and back to the camera as you attempt to force your climax. Each time he looks less entertained by your wandering eyes, until eventually you look over at him only to be greeted by the sight of his penis. Immediately you look away once more, gawking down the lens of the camera, no doubt looking flustered and debauched.

“It’s okay baby, you can look at it.” It’s not really a suggestion, so much as an order. Even when he’s speaking softly, he sounds dangerous, so you angle your head to the side. Watching as he idly pumps away, matching your own strokes with a now ungloved hand. “Like what you see?”

A part of you had been hoping it would be smaller, uglier, something to turn your nose up at, but by all accounts, Roman Sionis has a fucking beautiful cock. Something else you could hate him for. It’s straight, cut, a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, and just big enough to stretch you out in all the right places if you sunk low enough to let him fuck you. A thought that’s becoming more and more appealing with every brush to you heated core.

“Yes.” You strain to form words, joints twitching as you continue to play with your oversensitive, under-climaxed cunt. “Your dick is… nice.”

He chuckles at you, again. While admittedly it was not a good word choice, his constant amusement really makes it difficult to ignore the fact that this is all fun and games to him. You’re a joke, a pawn in his agenda. Damn if the sight of him, leaning back, nonchalantly jerking off over your display doesn’t make your toes curl. But it’s still not enough.

“If you hurry up and cream those pretty panties, I‘ll let you play with it.” You surprise him, and yourself by dramatically kicking your feet against the mattress.

“I can’t!” It comes out petulant and needy. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve never been able to do it myself.”

His eyes narrow, head rolling from side to side as he processes your predicament and considers his next move.

“Sit up and look into the camera.” He eventually instructs, standing up himself to get a good look at you through the viewfinder. “Ask daddy real nicely to help you cum, and I might fuck you with my fingers.”

You can feel his eyes glowering into you through the camera as you hesitate. Deliberating whether you’re really going to beg Black Mask to get you off as you follow his command. The moment your fingers seize movement you feel lost. Yes. If it’s the only way to sooth your desires, then yes, you’re going to swallow your pride and beg him.

“Please daddy.” His eyes don’t leave the screen as he bites down on the tip of his remaining glove to remove it, nor when he loosens his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt. “I need you, please make me cum.”

“I think you can do better.” His hard-on would disagree, but you’re in no position to point that out. “Roll over, put your ass up for the camera and keep begging for me baby.”

Somehow, having your entire sex front and centre for the camera, hardly concealed by your see-through panties feels a thousand times more exposing than anything you’ve done do far.

“Please.” Your voice grows smaller, but Roman is having none of it.

“Louder.”

“Please fill me with your finger, Daddy.” You start again, willing yourself to speak as loudly as possible. Calling him daddy feels less and less forced each time it rolls off your tongue. “Please, please, please. I’ll do anything.”

Even in your current state, the irony of your last statement isn’t lost on you. Regardless, it has the desired effect. You wait with bated breath, listening to each footfall as Roman deliberately drags his feet across the carpet until he’s stood behind you, completely out of the cameras view you presume but for his hands which come up to cup your ass. You can’t help but moan as he digs his nails into the fat of your cheeks and makes of show of jiggling them.

“Barely even touched you and you’re already cryin’ out like you’re in heat.” He comments, smug as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and works them down your thighs. He teases you by running his pointer finger lightly across your slit, void of any pressure, before delivering an unexpected slap to your cheek. Your legs flinch, another pathetic whine escaping you in reaction, but ultimately it only adds to your pent-up frustration. Only makes you want him more. “You act so prim and proper, but I always knew what you were.”

“What- ” Your question is silenced as Roman finally sinks two fingers between your pussylips, lazily brushing them against your clit in circular motions. It already feels so much better than you’d accomplished alone. You’re so caught up in the feeling that you no longer care about your rapidly deteriorating dignity when he uses his thumbs to pull apart your lips, showing off your dripping entrance, wolf-whistling as he gives the camera the money shot.

“So fuckin’ wet.” Despite his statement, Roman hawks another bead of spit onto it before sliding two more fingers in without resistance. “D’you know what this is?”

“It’s my pussy, daddy.” You answer earnestly, eyes rolling back at the feel of him plunging inside you.

“That’s right baby.” He purrs. “Your pussy. The pussy of a cock hungry slut.”

“Or maybe it’s mine.” He continues, unapologetically shoving his long fingers in and out of your cunt at a demanding pace. All the while his other hand strokes your clit. The wet squelch that emanates with every touch makes you feel so lewd. You squeeze your eyes shut, holding back hot tears of humiliation and desperation as Roman easily brings you closer and closer to the edge. “Maybe I’ll claim it. Maybe I’ll put my nice dick in there and pump you full of daddy’s cum.”

“Fuck!” You can’t think straight, the only thing on your mind is how fucking good this feels. How much better it would feel to have Roman’s cock pulsing inside you. A damp slapping sound begins to ring throughout the room. You realise quickly that it’s your slit, smacking against Romans hands as you subconsciously rock back onto them, matching his rhythm.

“Is that what you want baby? D’you want to give daddy your pussy?” He growls, perfectly in time with the eruption of your orgasm.

“Yes, it’s your pussy, Daddy. Take it, take my pussy.” The words roll off your tongue completely uninhibited. You’ve no capacity to censor yourself, to think for yourself as shockwaves roll through every vein and nerve of your body. “I want your cock, Roman. I want your cum. Please ruin me.”

Roman lets you ride it out, holding still while you grind against him until you come to a complete stop, quietly panting into the comforter until he’s satisfied that you’re done. Then before you know what’s happening, he rips his hands back and delivers a series of rapid strikes to your ass. Harder than the previous one, sure to leave a mark.

“What’s. My. Name. Bitch?” He bites between each hit. “Whose. Your. Fuckin’. Daddy?”

The sudden change in pace has you reeling and scrambling to pull away, but Roman follows until you surrender. “Daddy! You’re my daddy!”

“And don’t you fuckin forget it.” It’s absolutely an order, bitter and laced with scathing levels supressed rage. A reminder of who he is and that he’s calling the shots right now. “Get up here.”

As soon as you’re in range to be gripped without roaming too far into frame, Roman locks his hands around you, manhandling you until your back is to his chest. His hand is around your throat, squeezing just tight enough to restrict but not stop your breathing as he threads a finger between your ass cheeks, poking at the rim of your hole. For a second, he cinches his grip on your neck, causing another tear to roll down your face, adding another streak of mascara to the dried marks from your finger fucking.

“Call my name one more time baby, and I won’t just ruin your pussy.” To emphasis his point, he bullies the tip of his finger inside, grinning when you whinge at the dry, hot pain. “And trust me, no amount of spit is gonna help you then. Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.” He pulls his fingers back from your ass, your sigh of relief cut off by his stiffening grip on your windpipe once more. Instead, you let out a pathetic mix of sputtering and moaning. You deliberately try to stay limp for him, obedient, but when he brings the fingers he’d been fucking you with to your mouth your muscles automatically tense. His warm digits pass your lips, and he brushes his musty fingers on your tongue, forcing you to taste the bittersweetness of both holes. You instinctively try to protest but all that comes out again is weak gasp and strings of drool.

“You like how you taste?” He mocks. “Like being choked?”

If you say yes, he might do it more. If you say no, he’ll definitely do it more, so you hedge your bets and nod for him, coughing out a sad little “yes” around his finger.

“Fuckin’ whore.” That infuriating laugh, again. This time more to himself than to you as he releases your neck and steps away from the bed. He surveys you for a moment, examining your position on the bed as you gasp for air before grabbing the tripod and moving it further down the bed.

“Get on your hands and knee, facing the camera this time.” Once you’ve caught your breath, you reposition yourself as instructed. Weary eyes watching as Roman retrieves his mask from the nightstand. The cosmetic red eyes stare you down as he crosses the room to stand behind you. The bed dips under his weight and your hazy brain finally clicks why he’d been so pissed at you for using his name. It’s not just a humiliation thing. He intended from the beginning to remain anonymous, even if the video was solely for himself. Everybody knew Roman was Black Mask, but nobody could irrefutably prove it, a technicality that kept him out of prison.

The train of thought however is lost when Roman barks out his next instruction. “Take the bra off.”

You're way passed modesty at this point. Frankly, you're relieved to be rid of the plasticky faux feathers digging into your cleavage.

If your bare and open core had been the money shot, this would be the clickbait. A Wayne Scion stripped naked and practically presenting herself for one of Gotham's most notorious crime lords. Sure, nobody could confirm it was him, but between the voice, the suit, and the mask, it was obvious.

You’re grateful when Roman doesn’t spend much time admiring or groping at your breasts, but that gratitude is quickly swallowed by torment when he starts repeatedly thrusts his shaft into your slit, denying your cunt in favour of teasing your clit. The sensation causes you to clench around nothing. Having barely come down from your previous orgasm, your body greedily wants more.

“You should know by now what I want to hear.” Roman croons, securing a hand on your waist to keep you still as he drags the tip of his cock between your folds. He wants you to plead, and at this point you'd do anything to finally feel him inside you. “Don’t make me ask you for it.”

“Please, Daddy.” Clearly also feeling eager, Roman is quick to line himself up with your entrance, pushing in just deep enough to part your labia, but withholding any satisfaction. You let out a salacious moan, nonetheless. “Please fuck my cock hungry pussy!”

“Oh, I’m not just gonna fuck it, baby.” His cock plunges into you without resistance. He’s not overtly thick, but your walls immediately start spasming and stretching around him, hugging him tightly in all the right places. Mouth and pussy drooling for him in an instant as he begins ramming in and out of you, allowing you no time to adjust. It hurts like hell for a few moments, but the pain is so worth the pleasure. “I’m gonna ruin it. That’s what you wanted, right? Want me to pound this filthy fuckin’ cunt like nobody else ever has. You're not gonna want anyone else by the time I’m done with you.”

Every nasty word out of his mouth feels like a threat, it only adds to the sex drunk haze that fogs your mind, and he just keeps snarling. For the first time in your tenuous relationship, you hope he never shuts the fuck up.

“You fuckin’ love it.” He snaps, gripping the back of your neck to keep your head up, all the while slamming into you at a painful pace, knocking the wind out of you as you sob for the camera. “Say it. Say you fucking love being a helpless whore, split open on Daddy dick.”

Any words out of your mouth at this point are completely unintelligible at best. Broken, feeble cries at worst. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to say. Eventually you manage to muster a small “Please… please I want…”, relying on Roman’s strength as you reach for your clit. You’re so damn close, you just need that little push. “Want to cum.”

To his credit, Roman knows exactly what you’re asking for, batting your uselessly pawing hands out of the way so he can rub at your tender bud in short teasing motions, making you arch your back into him.

“You’ll cum when I cum.”

“C-cum in me.” Once again, your voice is barely a whisper, strangled by your tensing muscles, shaken with every snap of Romans hips as you selfishly beg for his release so that he’ll give you your own. “Fill my whore pussy, please, daddy.”

Sick, loud, slapping echoes through the room as Roman hammers into you, using your body to chase his orgasm in bruising, frenzied strokes. His body shudders, breath growing hoarse as he finds it. The combined feel of fingers kneading your clit, and the heat of his seed releasing inside your guts has you tumbling straight after him.

“Take it.” The command isn’t necessary, your walls are milking him for all he’s got as your body trembles beneath him, ecstasy making every aching bone feel like putty as he ladens your sex with his seed. He just loves the sound of his own voice. “Take all of it you greedy little bitch.”

Roman’s breathing is erratic. He stays put, dick growing soft inside you for a long time as he steadies himself. As your high begins to falter you start to process the reality of what you’ve just done. Fortunately, you can find solace in the fact that it’s over.

To nobodies’ surprise, Roman is the first to talk. Finding his voice again as he finally pulls out of you.

“I was serious you know.” A chill runs along your back as he skims a finger between your swollen folds, collecting the excess of his cum. “I've got some live-in cam models over in Tail’s End. You’ve got the potential to make it big, doll.”

“No thanks.” Despite your deadpan, when he guilds your weak body up and shoves his sticky fingers in your face, you open wide, unashamedly cleaning every speck until he retracts them. You watch as he holds them up to the light, inspecting your work. Face now hidden behind his fearsome mask, you’ve no idea what he might be thinking which is probably his intent.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs, your body falling forward at the sudden weight displacement as he stands. Your legs are still like jelly, so you resolve not to move until they’re steady or he’s gone. Which ever happens first.

“I gotta head out in a minute, you know your way to the door, right?” You only nod. Quickly coming down from your post-orgasm high whilst you watch Roman making himself presentable again. Well, mostly presentable. He re-buttons his shirt, straightens his tie, and redons his gloves. There is however a wet patch on his crotch, cause by you no doubt. Dependant on where he’s going, you wouldn’t put it past him to leave it on display so he can brag about his latest lay. “Oh, some of Penguins boys are trying to move in on The Basin. Be careful if you're passing that way.”

“Why?” He got what he wanted from you. What should he care what happens to you know? Tim is currently building a case on Cobblepot. So, the only part of that statement you care about is how you’re going to feed that intel to him without revealing your source.

“I don’t want that creature puttin’ his hand on what’s mine.” What’s his? He says it so factually it’s almost laughable. Sure, he’d been a good fuck, but that wasn’t enough to keep you coming back to him. Cocky bastard.

Despite your derision, you nod, humouring him. The sooner he leaves, the better. Then you’ll rarely have to see him again. “Right.”

“Don’t clean up.” He rattles off another demands, now focused on the camera. His hands work quickly, turning it off and ejecting the memory card so fast it must be muscle memory. He’s done this sort of thing before. How many others had he extorted like this? When the memory card is tucked safely away in his wallet, Roman scoops the discarded panties from the floor, pressing them to his wooden nose and sniffing before tossing them over to you. “Put those back on. I want you to stink of your own arousal all the way home. Want you to feel all that cum inside you and know who put it there.”

You can’t hold your contempt back any longer at this point. Glaring, you scoff at him. “I’ll pass.”

“I don't think you understand the nature of our arrangement.” He snarls back. You were so close to being rid of him but now he’s doubling back to you. The permanent leer of his masks red eyes staring you down as he leans close to your supine form. “You don't get to pass.”

“My debt to you is paid.” You spit. When you make to sit up his gloved hand latches onto your jaw, muffling your speech as you try to argue with him. “Tonight was me getting straight with you.”

“Thats right.” His faux-soft tone contrasts with the demeaning drip of spit he aims onto your cheek. In retaliation you attempt to pull away, digging your nails into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to no avail. “I’ll make sure nobody in Gotham, especially that bitchboy father of yours ever finds out about your little incident.”

Rubbing in his control over you, Roman begins massaging his saliva into your skin. Seemingly trying to clean up your smudged make-up, no doubt purposefully smearing it further around your face.

“But unless you want the contents of our little home video on the homepage of every tabloid and gossip site in the country, you'll keep doing as I say.”

The reality of the situation kicks in, and suddenly you do feel like a little girl. Roman Sionis had tricked you, he’s never intended to make things even. From the moment he’d ‘requested’ a meeting, he’d been planning on keeping you under his thumb and like the naïve child you were, and you’d fell for it, every step of the way.

“You promised nobody would ever see it.” Your voice is small and pitiful, even to you. No doubt Roman is grinning like a fat-cat beneath his veneer.

“And if you make a liar out of me, neither of us is going to be happy.” You’re not proud of the tears the follow, releasing Roman’s arm in favour of dabbing at your eyes. Breathing deeply, you try to stop from blubbering. You’re so angry, but you don’t have the energy to fight. “Now you're getting it.”

You sit stiffly as Roman’s leather clad hand wander your face. Patting and pinching your cheeks in mock affection.

“This is a cute look. Bet your brother's fawn all over it. Personally, I just wanna stick my dick between those pouty lips.” His words sting, they make your stomach nauseous. Your brothers would fly of the handle if they could see you know. Jason in particular would probably be more pissed than your father.

Eventually Roman releases you, and you hastily stand to start redressing yourself, but as you do his cum begins to trickle out from your still gaping cunt, and you almost retch at the feeling.

“This must be hard for you. Tell you what, why don't you stay here? Avoid the family until you've come to terms.” Continuing to parody genuine tenderness, Roman catches your wavering body and brings you close, gently wrapping you up in his arms. You can’t deny it feels nice, his warmth, his smell. Your fickle centre betrays you, growing wet once more, even as the rest of your body wants to curl up and die from your foolishness. “I've got some business to attend to, but I’ll be back in a few hours. Get some rest, and when you're good and ready we’ll test how much of daddy’s cock you can take down your throat before you start choking?”

#dc #black mask #roman sionis #gilverrwrites #roman sionis/reader #roman sionis smut #roman sionis x reader #black mask smut #black mask x reader #black mask/reader #nsft #f reader #dead dove do not eat #divider by @anitalenia #wayne reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 24 days ago

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chapter 1 - port de bras

The scent of hay and wet grass filled Eddie’s nose as he walked from his rental car to the front door of the home. He’s surrounded by acres and acres of open land, which is surrounded by acres of woods on one side and a lake on another. He passed the lake on the way down the two mile long driveway. A rope swing hung from a tree, but there’s nothing to give any sign that it’s been used. He thinks about how happy he’ll be to get his ass back on a plane home tomorrow afternoon, how nice it’s gonna be to smell the city instead of cow manure and diesel from trucks and tractors riding the dirt roads. Eddie grew up on a farm, but you won’t catch him enjoying one now. The front yard and porch area are spotless, a porch swing on the corner looking out towards the mountains in the distance, and potted plants neatly placed equidistant from each other. It’s eery, actually, Eddie thinks. Farms aren’t meant to be perfect; they’re meant to be productive. That’s what his Uncle Wayne always said, anyway. Wayne would probably hate this place. It reeks of rich people playing house on a ranch. He can hear the faint sound of children playing inside, but they aren’t loud. A window must be open nearby. He knocks.

continue reading on ao3

summary of fic:

Eddie Munson knows this article is a big deal for him. Nancy wouldn't have sent him on the job unless it would put him in a good place in his career. Steve Hagan, a social media influencer with a billionaire husband and mate, has a story to tell and Eddie is going to find a way to tell it. But when he arrives at the Hagan Homestead, he realizes this article could do a lot more than change his life: it could give Steve the chance to find himself and his freedom again.

an omegaverse steddie au

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #omegaverse #a/b/o #slow burn #tommy hagan #steve harrington x tommy hagan #steve harrington x eddie munson #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #alpha tommy hagan

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anna-no-emma · 9 months ago

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batfam social media:

Bruce has a very boring insta, regularly updated and filled with pictures of galas and fancy dinners. he also has a slightly unhinged twitter where he "drunk" tweets and responds to his children's shenanigans. He also has facebook.

Dick posts workout posts to his tiktok. many of the posts come off as thirst-traps. he also has goofy-hanging-out with his friends posts on his insta. he also has twitter where he says some of the most questionable things you ever seen in your life. He's also old enough to have had myspace.

Jason just has twitter. it's an unverified account. everyone else in the family is verified. his digital footprint is super-light.

Tim posts skate-boarding videos to his insta and tik tok. he also does some of the tik-tok trends, usually with steph. He also does unboxing videos with Dick where they unbox the stuff companies send them and they review the stuff. tim and dick have a reputation for being brutally honest about the products, even having a popular meme created of them saying "you don't need this. don't buy it. it's just pretty landfill". Tim also does gaming videos with Jason on youtube/twitch.

Steph loves posting family fails to her tiktok, like Tim wiping out on her skateboard or jason walking into a street light. She also has a fairly wholesome insta that is her hanging out with her friends. she does little baking vidoes/pics with Jason, videos of her and Dick working out, pics of coffee dates with Cass, re-posts Damian's art, and does goofy videos of her and Tim etc. She got a lot of heat online, especially on twitter, when she dated Tim Drake Wayne so she's fairly careful about Twitter. She has it but doesn't post much, just jumping into the occasional bit of family shenanigans.

Cass has accounts for basically all the social media but doesn't post at all.

Duke works very hard to have a 'normal' instagram, twitter and tik tok presence. He doesn't want anyone to look to closely at his private life and worries not having 'normal' socials will raise flags.

Damian only has insta and twitter. He just posts his art on insta (never pictures of himself or his family/friends) and sometimes comments on twitter when someone's being, in his opinion, very stupid. All in all he doesn't post that much and the general public speculate it might be because Bruce is strict about social media. The batboys also didn't post much when they were his age (due to being busy with Robin) and publicly this supports the strict Bruce theory.

#batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #red hood #robin #tim drake #red robin #nightwing #dick grayson #dc #dc comics #damian wayne #stephanie brown #spoiler #cassandra cain #duke thomas #signal

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sasheneskywalker · 3 months ago

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This video is not about The Batman | Renegade Cut

youtube

Transcript [emphasis added by me]:

"Okay, stop me if you've heard this a million times before. Why doesn't Batman use his wealth to solve poverty instead of punching criminals? That's a pretty loaded question huh. The most common counter argument is: Batman has the Wayne Foundation. Don't you read the comic books? The statement in this counter argument is technically true. The fictional narrative of Batman in the comic books and sometimes other media references the Caped Crusader’s charitable donations. But this counter is only meaningful if we're talking about whether or not the fictional Bruce Wayne gives some of his fictional money to a fictional city which we're probably not. The question “why doesn't Batman use his wealth to solve poverty instead of punching criminals” is not a condemnation of Batman as if he were real, like a real guy. It's not some righteous indignation about some man, some bibatted man who doesn't exist. It's only a question about our values in the real world. This question about Batman is not about Batman. The question is really “can there be justice under capitalism”?

Capitalism does not resolve poverty. Capitalism simultaneously enforces poverty through stratified economic classes and income disparity all the while criminalizing poverty to protect private property interests of the ruling class. Marginally improving conditions under capitalism does not serve to resolve capitalism but to stabilize the labor class enough to continue labor. Furthermore many crimes are the products of poverty and crime cannot be resolved under a system that enforces and criminalizes its own poverty. The contradictions of capitalism cannot be resolved. This question about Batman is not really about judging or exonerating Batman. Thus the answer to this question cannot be about judging or exonerating Batman either.

I mean I think we all love Batman. Or we all hate Batman, I can't keep up. The Wayne Foundation counter-argument applied to the real world is simply another way of saying that this is the best we can hope for. Capitalism with a somewhat more socially conscious ruling class. A teeny tiny bit less Jeff Bezos and a centimeter more Oprah Winfrey. And that's it. Isn't this perspective the result of capitalist realism? Thinking that this is as good as it gets and we should all ever expect. We enter into our viewing of The Batman with this cultural bias about our relationship with wealth and the wealthy. A presupposition that helps hold up the narrative and a presupposition that could be deconstructed. Isn't this fun? Talking about art, seeing how art relates to reality, trying not to get too defensive about it. I enjoy this.

Let's talk about film criticism.

A structuralist approach to film criticism puts more emphasis on the fixed nature of language conventions and code to convey particular information. A structuralist analysis relies on the premise that communication has a specific goal or meaning and that finding that meaning through signifiers and the signified is the essence of analysis. Here is that tree you've seen before. A structuralist analysis of The Batman would emphasize how Batman's character arc fits into the pre-existing conventions of film, how well it adheres to this and how much it subverts it.

A post-structuralist analysis to film criticism recognizes that words and images we choose to convey information are imperfect and that this communication contains contradictions. A post-structuralist approach to film criticism might emphasize the pre-existing cultural biases of the creators of the film as well as the presumption of those cultural biases in the audience. For example the Batman addresses race and class but spends more time ignoring grievances related to race and class than it does acknowledging these grievances. Mere absence is not immediately meaningful but absence as contrast might be. For example the absence of a floating pink elephant in The Batman might not be meaningful to a post-structuralist because there is no opposite of this, no signifier of its contrast. But the absence of significant commentary on criminogenic conditions in a film that frequently references crime and comes to its own conclusion about how to resolve crime might be meaningful to a post-structuralist.

At the risk of being reductive a structuralist analysis of a film places greater emphasis on the author signifiers and signified as the primary subjects of examination whereas post-structuralist analysis of a film places greater emphasis on the viewer, the existence of the viewer, and the viewer's world between the signifiers and signified. Just to be clear this is not a complete definition of post-structuralism or a proper lesson. Also, in reducing these terms this way I run the risk of inaccuracy but this is also, you know, a youtube video.

Here is a structuralist approach to explaining The Batman. In the beginning of the film Batman's inner monologue mythologizes crime in Gotham City. We experience it as a force of nature or human nature, something in the air or something in our blood, but in either case inevitable. Batman is skeptical of our humanity and believes more should be done to fight crime. Batman is visually represented as shadow, as the darkness of night. His first targets are thrill-seeker criminals performing unambiguously vindictive acts on complete strangers. Randomized violence with no goal except the act itself and perpetrated by a stylized evil visage that is completely dehumanized. When his voice over monologue is complete, his first spoken words are “I'm vengeance”. At the climax of the film Batman recognizes that vengeance is not the same as justice. Batman leads his people out of darkness and toward the light, visually represented by his torch and finally by the dawn that shines on them on this new day.

A structuralist analysis might conclude that justice outweighing vengeance is the authorial point of the film or the message of the film or the meaning of the film because it has laid bare at the climax where it's supposed to be and because it is foreshadowed many times and that this is the progression of the protagonist's character arc. It was dark but now there is dawn. Justice has been served, Batman is a hero, a pseudo-biblical figure that leads his people from bondage and sends them towards the heavens. Whatever else this is, rest assured that this is justice. This is what the movie is trying to say.

A post-structuralist approach might say that at the end of the film Batman uses different words to describe Gotham City and his mission and he is visually represented differently but he still mythologizes crime as a force of nature or human nature. Within the film there are multiple explicit references to income inequality and a passing reference to a comorbidity of racial inequality and income inequality. But this is all practically suppressed by what Batman tells the audience, both before and after his character arc is complete. The audience for The Batman is expected to have a cultural bias about criminogenic conditions, the circumstances that produce crime. The Batman ritualistically moralizes crime and speaks in platitudes that are originally dark, eventually uplifting but always vague and most importantly: apolitical.

The passing reference to the conditions that create crime are covered under the banner of an apolitical unity that tends to ignore disparate racial and economic power dynamics.

In the film the company called the Gotham Renewal Corporation, originally intended to assist Gotham City, has been corrupted by a series of criminals. In the end these criminals are exposed or pushed out and the day is saved. This relies on the presupposition that our systems are good and are only corrupted by bad apples. What is vengeance in The Batman anyway? Is Batman saying he simply needs to exercise a lighter touch? Because it feels like what Batman is instead pushing back against is corruption and radicalism. Corruption in the form of Renewal and radicalism in the form of those who oppose Renewal. The Riddler and his people and Catwoman's willingness to use more violence than Batman is willing to use. Radicals are portrayed as only seeking vengeance instead of justice and the audience's presuppositions about our systems and about radicalism are what makes this ring true to them in the end.

In The Batman justice seems to be working within our institutions. The Batman recognizes corruption and acknowledges corruption but recognizing corruption is not a condemnation of our institutions because corruption is the institution not working as intended. Recognizing corruption only condemns corruption and may still tacitly endorse the institution. But what if the institutions working as intended create and enforce poverty? What if they create and enforce injustice? What if they must be replaced by something more than reform, something that requires more than voting? Well, that's radicalism and in The Batman that is portrayed as vengeance not justice. For only within our institutions can justice be found, no matter how much evidence exists to the contrary. The mayor was dirty but the new mayor will not be dirty. The bad politician is bad but the good politician is good. Trust in liberal democracy.

The police initially do not trust Batman and there are dirty cops but Batman tells Jim Gordon that he's a good cop. The bad police are bad but the good police are good. Trust the police. The wealthy criminals control much of Gotham but Bruce Wayne has sway in Gotham as well and Alfred reminds him of his responsibilities. The bad billionaires are bad but the good billionaires are good. Trust in capitalism.

Batman also operates outside the system but in the end he is part of the system, an ally of the system with all that that implies. Trust in our institutions. Corruption and radical politics are both outside of the system in equal measure and in the center an apolitical unity that ignores the actual causes of crime and indeed the causes of injustice.

Is this a good take? Is this a bad take? I don't know. As always that is entirely for Twitter to decide. To clarify, I'm not judging who is right within the confines of the narrative that they made. The Riddler kills a bunch of people and floods a city. I'm analyzing why the narrative looks like this in the first place and what it says about our culture. The Riddler is not right but the Riddler is also not real. The portrayal of his fight for the downtrodden perspective as radical, dangerous, terroristic, and motivated only by vengeance and not justice is a choice by the filmmakers. The conclusion of the film that basically serves as a love letter to the good people who reinforce our ultimately good institutions that exist to serve justice is also a choice. These choices do not necessarily have these intentions but finding authorial intention is not the goal here. These choices are worth thinking about because they reveal cultural biases and presuppositions that existed prior to the creation of the film and outside of the industry of film."

#dc #batman #the batman #bruce wayne #meta #character analysis #film criticism #the batman 2022 #battinson #politics #society #youtube #fandom discourse

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 6 months ago

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 33

MASTAPOST

god im so sleepy lmao also warning for skulker being a mega creep, but not to the extent of vlad

Damian, for the second time in as many days, awoke in a tank, a fact with which he was extremely displeased. The last thing he recalled was his stomach lurching, the bag he’d been stuffed into serving as an excellent package for Skulker to make off with him. Damian longed for a good blade to sink into the man’s body.

That fact was amplified by the feeling of cold metal on his scales. Damian scratched at the golden bracelets cupping his arms. He was dressed up in luxurious gold and jewels like a lecherous sultan’s slave. A ringed belt-like piece of silver wrapped around his waist and looped over his hip fins. Two more golden rings, each adorned with gleaming rubies, cupped the thinnest portion of his tail just above his tailfin. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to relieve himself of any of the filthy things. They were fitted tight as a glove, almost like they were made for his measurements. Damian shivered, and turned to more productive activities.

His new prison cell was at least more amenable than his last. In fact, it was a little too amenable. Damian found himself in a veritable miniature aquarium. If it weren’t for the reflection of his scaly face in the glass and the lavish (and frankly, tasteless) furniture beyond, he’d have thought himself in the actual ocean. The bottom was padded with beautiful white sand, populated by towering coral structures and schools upon schools of fish, jellyfish, and even a few manta rays. Stalks of kelp rose to the ceiling of the room, as the tank was that tall. Seaweed swayed in an artificial current. Damian picked up the sound of a wave machine gently pushing against the surface of the water.

Tapping the glass proved it was not some common fishbowl’s glass. The barrier between the water and air was at least two inches thick, something even a human Robin would find trouble with, let alone his current state. A golden shine caught his eye. Damian tutted. His fins rattled. It seems Skulker’s poor taste knew no bounds. Solid gold pillars lined the corners of the tank, and ran along the top and bottom.

With a closer look outside the tank, Damian clocked the numerous animal heads lining the walls of the room. Even more baffling was the inclusion of beautiful hand-crafted stone bird fountains scattered around the walls and mounted on posts in the room, populated by, of all the things, red duck candles. An old fashioned writing desk and chair sat facing away from the tank, decorated with what else but more preserved animals, and even more tacky candles, as if they were bought from the novelty shops that Richard would occasionally visit.

Outside of his already-revolting interior décor tastes, Skulker was a hunter. Went after rare and exotic creatures, Danny had told him. Damian’s eyes narrowed. Now he understood fully what the man was after. The abduction, the drowning, the pursuit, the sudden presence of the GiW in Panama, the entire reason for this trip in the first place.

The better question now was whether he was the prize, or the bait? And Damian suspected he was both. After all, Danny had made it very clear how much Skulker wanted his pelt specifically. Why go through the effort of making such a luxurious fish tank for a dead teenager?

There were so many other sirens in the sea, though. It made perfect sense that Damian would be the bait, but why also the prize?

He had caused a media sensation when he’d first arrived in Gotham. Tabloids ran for months, drooling over the gossip and rumours surrounding the mysterious biological son of Bruce Wayne. He’d been swarmed by mobs of rich snobs trying to pair their daughters with him, until his biting tone chased most of them off.

While Skulker wanted to make a coat out of Danny’s scales, he probably also wanted to allure of having such a mysterious and exotic pet. A pet that he’d had a direct hand in creating. Damian’s cheeks heated. He gritted his teeth. Of course. Here he was as much a trophy as the heads on the wall.

The door swung open. Damian bared his teeth. His fins flared wide. If he had his way, he’d be sinking them into the man’s jugular. Instead he was forced to bear Skulker’s smug smirk. He walked in, dressed in black cargo pants and a tank top instead of the customary hulking metal suit. Damian’s scales ran cold as the man looked over his body, bare except for jewelry he himself had placed.

Skulker went to the desk and retrieved a microphone from the drawer. He flipped it on, causing a brief whine in the tank.

“Good afternoon, Damian Wayne. I trust you find your new accommodation satisfactory?”

Damian hissed at him. “If you set me free I might let you live.”

“Hah!” Skulker laughed. The man reached into another drawer and pulled a can of beer. “I’m afraid the world outside is far too dangerous for a little guppy like you. You’ll be safer in here.”

“My absence has already been noted. You will not be able to get away with this!”

“Do you truly believe that, little boy?” Skulker shotgunned the beer in one. “Your little friend Danny wasn’t recognised by his own mother at gunpoint. And even if by some miracle they came here, what would you do? Squeak at them?”

Actually, he would tap out a message in Morse Code, but Skulker didn’t need to know that. And this time he would not hesitate.

Still, that brought up another concern. Skulker did not know he was Robin. As far as he believed, Damian was just some spoilt rich boy. On the one hand, it meant that there would be underestimation, and from there an opportunity. On the other hand, any overt competence he displayed would do badly for the family secret.

What a conundrum.

“So what do you intend to do with me, then? Sell my scales? Bed me?”

Skulker gasped in genuine shock, not the fake politeness that he’d seen Father’s parasites give off. “Did you not know? I am Skulker, the greatest hunter in the seven seas! I am not some kind of sicko. All the pleasure I need comes from the thrill of the hunt! And you have been an admirable quarry, and may now live out the rest of your days in comfort as my greatest trophy.”

Despite his ‘reassurance,’ Damian distinctly thought this made him even more of a sicko. “And what of Phantom’s pelt?”

“Danny will be my greatest coat, or a handbag. I’m open to options. Probably won’t even die the first skinning, what with his regeneration.”

Definitely a sicko. This man would fit right in on Gotham’s rogue’s gallery. Damian had disdain for hunters, especially trophy hunters, but to chase after someone whom you know is human? He recalled the fiery siren girl’s words back at the cave near Amity. To go after your own kind indeed. And Danny had the confidence to casually banter with this man like it was Tuesday?! Not to mention while being shot at by his parents, and the government.

Robin always had Batman, and the family, and the Justice League beyond those people. There were times he craved independence, to strike out on his own and prove himself, only to sorely regret it when it inevitably went pear-shaped. And yet Danny did all that and more, and the only adults in his life wanted to kill him.

“Phantom is thrice the man you will ever be. To covet his skin will only bring you ruin.”

Skulker pressed his face right up against the glass, grinning sadistically. Damian hissed back. “What does a baby sea monster know about manhood? Or ruin, for that matter. Let me spell it out for you. You. Have. No. Rights. Nobody who has those rights is coming for you. I could parade you around animal conservation centres for all the world to see and as far as the law is concerned I’d be as innocent as a newborn babe.”

Rage boiled over. Damian snarled. He lashed out against the glass, clawing uselessly at the barrier. Skulker only laughed harder. Damian slammed at the glass with his tail. His tail rings clanged against it uselessly.

“You’re an adorable trophy. I ought to put a little bell on you, like a kitten.”

The man left soon after, cackling like a TV supervillain (or just a regular real life supervillain, honestly), leaving Damian to stew in his rage.

He was not one to stew for long. With rage, there was never inaction.

Danny stuffed as much seaweed into his mouth as he could fit in his arms. He shoveled shellfish in like a waterslide. His belly bulged with how much food it was taking, and yet kept shrinking rapidly. Danny slashed open a fat fish. He sank his teeth into his flesh, ripped out the guts, then threw the rest out in seconds. It would take too much time to pick the flesh between bones, so he just killed another. Then another, and another.

He’d exhausted himself, and got Damian caught by fucking Skulker. That mistake couldn’t happen again. He couldn’t fail Damian again.

He tried to ignore the way his skin crawled just from how close his mother was. How close Damian’s dad was. If Bruce Wayne learned how badly he’d fucked up, Danny would be a dead fish and he wouldn’t even complain. He deserved it.

Danny ate, and ate, and ate.

He sniffed the water. It was Skulker’s dolphins. The trail was heading away from the shore. Danny swam faster than he had ever swum before.

It seemed Skulker had anticipated many of his first ideas. Damian found the water filter practically welded to its spot. His new ornaments proved useless at breaking or dislodging anything. He’d even found the larger rocks of the aquarium affixed to the bottom and immovable. The pebbles gathered up in bunches at the bottom proved ineffective as well. At the top, Damian found a hatch, probably for maintenance and cleaners to enter, but it was sealed shut. The tank featured no other entrances or exists. What he saw was what he got.

Even if he could break the glass, he didn’t even want to. He was not the only unwilling resident of this tank, but he was the only one with lungs. That left the top hatch as his current best option.

Damian swam into a nook, and began to plan.

This was not ideal. No weapons, no tools, a body for which measures had already been taken. Of course, Danny might come for him. He might. He’d heard an explosion moments after he was snatched right off Danny’s back, then there was the issue of Dr Fenton and his father. To expect Danny to be swift was unreasonable.

In fact, it might be Damian who needed to save Danny.

Which was to say he could not afford to lounge around. Simultaneously, it was possible he’s be forced to play the long game in his escape attempt, and the longer he had to endure Skulker’s lecherous gaze, the more chance he might pop a vein or two.

Time to work on it then. Damian swam up to the top. He knocked against the hatch, testing its durability. To his surprise, there was just the slightest amount of give. Perhaps with a pebble, he could pry it open. A crowbar would’ve been preferable, but beggars could not be choosers.

Seizing stress overwhelmed his tiny body. His subconscious recognised it first. Then his conscious mind registered the rattling of everything in the room. The boat shook, as if rocked by an attack. Damian dashed back behind a rock. He waited for a moment.

Skulker did not come. Perhaps Damian had underestimated Danny’s tenacity yet again. This represented a prime opportunity. While Skulker was busy fighting Danny, Damian could escape and then assist.

So he got to work immediately. He picked up the largest pebble he could get his scaly hands on. Then he went to the bottom of the tank. Steeling his nerves, Damian kicked his fins in sync. He undulated his body in one fluid motion, and surged with blinding speed. The metal clanged loudly and echoed in the water as he slammed as hard as he could against the hatch.

It budged a quarter of a millimetre. Damian could hardly believe it. Then he did it again. And again. What he lacked in body mass he made up for with supernatural speed, pebbles in hand bashing against the hatch. He could not hear any more fighting or gather information on the situation outside the ship. The drive to get back to his friend fuelled his resolve, let him ignore his bruising knuckles and aching elbows. Damian surged up and attacked the opening once more.

His heart sank. The door was pushed open enough to reveal a padlock and chains covering the outside. Curse that Skulker! Damian yelled Todd-esque obscenities as he clawed uselessly at the chains. The lock was too far in the air for the water bound boy to reach, the opening too narrow to fit his hands through. He was Robin! He had no intention of letting a demented two-bit hunter with an ego the size of Lake Michigan get the better of him.

So Damian coiled his tail like a spring again. He imagined all sorts of hateful and unpleasant things plastered over the hatch. The Fenton parents. The Joker. Grandfather.

Nerves fired up, Damian snarled a barely-human battle cry. He launched himself faster than ever before. One second he was at the bottom. The next he was-

The next second, Damian found himself above the surface. Barely registering his surroundings, he let his gills open up immediately. Did he break the hatch? Was this super strength?

He was on some kind of platform over the tank, like the kind at aquariums for trainers or feeders. There was a tight constrictive feeling around his waist. Damian looked back, and his eyes widened.

The doors had budged, but only by a few inches. The lock and chain remained, albeit stretched out. And Damian? His waist compressed through the tiny gap like an octopus. He made out the gleam of the silver belt and necklace on the other side, wrapped around his tail, which should have been too big for them to fit, and yet Damian barely felt inconvenienced.

Well. This changed things.

Damian gripped the metal platform and pulled. He distinctly felt his organs squelch. His stomach had been pushed into his chest cavity, finally returning to its normal spot as his waist came through. His hip fins folded in on themselves. Then each of his bones in his tail bent like rubber bands, his scales sliding through with the help of his copious mucus secretions. At last Damian’s tailfin went through the gap, thin enough to not require any nauseating body modification. Unfortunately, the rings above it were also small enough. If he had the time, he’d have forced them off.

He didn’t have time, though. Danny was out there and he needed his help. With the help of his mucus, Damian slithered snake-like over the metal platform, then down the stairs at the side.

Skulker’s trophy room looked even more garish when there wasn’t glass covering his view. Damian spat on the carpet in disgust. Indeed, he was already intending on slathering a generous trail of mucus over the expensive decor, but it was not just about the raw damage. It was about sending a message.

Damian began to roll across the room. However, just as he went underneath one of the fiendishly ugly bird fountains, another explosion shook the room. Out of water, it was able to ring at his ear fins. Damian was startled out of his wheel position, splaying himself on the floor.

The shockwaves rattled everything in the room. The water rippled. Mounted animal heads jerked up an inch before returning to their hooks. The post holding up the bird fountain just above Damian jerked to one side. Before Damian knew it, a small waxy weight fell on his side.

Everything in his body burned.

The jet ski’s radar pinged bright. Their drone in the air confirmed it. Turns out Brucie Wayne had some nifty contacts. Managed to figure out this ‘Skulker’ fellow was the proud owner of a yacht, and had connections in the human trafficking business. Jack felt sick to his stomach.

Brucie should’ve come with them, should’ve been there to rescue their sons by his and Maddie’s side, but he was still injured from Jazz’s mind-controlled swing, which meant it was just the classic Fenton pair once again. He felt another tinge of pride for his daughter’s arm. But mostly, he felt ready to tear this Skulker apart molecule by molecule.

He just couldn’t believe it. Maddie’d seen him. She’d seen Danny. He was right there and she was just that close and then-

He relaxed his body and took in a deep breath, just like Jazzy said. Whatever was going to happen, he and Maddie were going to give it their all, and get the boys back. Then this would all be over.

Five kilometres north. He glanced to his side, where Maddie, the love of his life, revved her craft. Now or never.

Their presence did not go unnoticed. Jack’s goggles picked up dozens of rockets in the air. His scanners detected torpedoes in the water. Without a word, Maddie was firing at will, and Jack manned the jet skis’ systems. Counter-torpedoes launched from tubes underneath their seats. Mini-guns sprang from their concealments and opened fire.

“Jack, there’s one flanking you!”

“Go high!” He yelled back. Jack spotted the lone torpedo moments away from hitting his ski. On cue, Maddie’s jet ski shot ten feet into the air off the back of its thrusters. Jack waited until it was within striking distance. He pushed the handle bars to full throttle as his ski’s backup thrusters went into overdrive. He shot off away from the torpedo at a sharp right angle. Once he had enough distance, Jack directed the blasters to intercept.

The yacht emerged from the horizon. From hatches and panels along its hole, a veritable arsenal primed itself to fire. Looked like Brucie’s intel was solid. Now it was his and Maddie’s time to shine. Jack charged his weapons, he nodded affirmation to Maddie, and together they went into the fray.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #mermaid au #angst #bruce wayne #danny phantom #skulker #creepiness

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