#also apparently people really like the christmas eve blurb set

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

I posted 26 times in 2022

13 posts created (50%)

13 posts reblogged (50%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@glorified-red

@citrinesparkles

@unmotivatedwrit3r

I tagged 26 of my posts in 2022

#my writing - 14 posts

#emi's mutuals - 11 posts

#jason todd x reader - 11 posts

#damian wayne x reader - 10 posts

#tim drake x reader - 7 posts

#jason todd - 6 posts

#dick grayson x reader - 6 posts

#damian wayne imagine - 6 posts

#damian wayne x you - 6 posts

#self reblog - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 90 characters

#and the fun thing about brown paper is it’s harder to use which is so in character for him

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Gift Giving

batboys x reader

(A/N): I've had zero time to write between 15 hours a week of rehearsal, 20 hours of honors seminar work, other class, and my job so I apologize for once again being MIA.

Today is my birthday, though, so I found this reasonably relevant headcanon set (because I did not have time to write something like I wanted to) and I'm posting it as my gift to you. Enjoy <3

wc: ~600

warnings: none

~~

Dick Grayson:

He’s the easiest out of his brothers to shop for, mostly because he’s happy with anything as long as the person made an effort

He’s given quite a few gag gifts in his day, so if he gets any, he’ll take them good naturedly and laugh 

If you make him something, he’ll absolutely adore it

And he sounds a little bit like a parent when he says that he adores everything you give him because it came from you, and you put in the effort to find something specifically for him, and that means more than anything

Literally, he’d be happy with a new pair of pj pants

But if you want to make him really happy, get him things that will improve his quality of life

Like buy him body wash you think he’ll love the smell of, something a little more pricey that he’d never buy for himself but would really want to

 Jason Todd:

There are a few avenues you can go down when buying Jason gifts

The first is the literature route

You can either buy him a new book, a fancy copy of one he loves, or get something just a little decorative like a signed copy or a special dust jacket

The other thing guaranteed to be a hit is comfort items

He loves items that make him feel safe, so a weighted blanket or a fluffy blanket, or a new type of tea to try will make him so happy

Even better if you do something like a tasting box for the two of you to do together 

You can do gag gifts with him, but you have to be careful a) not to go too far and b) because he can and will give as good as he gets and he is devious

 Tim Drake:

Tim loves technology, so it’s smart to base gifts for him around that

Get him a new tool or a new device, or just something you found that you thought was awesome that he can tinker with

Anything weird and different he would find intriguing, and his face will light up when he thinks of things to do with new parts he’s never had before

He, like Jason, also loves comfort items

Get him fuzzy things like jackets or blankets

See the full post

95 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

#4

One More Sleep pt.1

batboys x reader

(A/N): Happy Holidays all! I was listening to this song and decided to write a blurb series about the batboys getting home early Christmas morning and have actually stuck to it so here's part 1! Part 2 will be out tomorrow but what it contains will depend on what I get written in the next 24 hours so we'll see what happens. Many thanks to Red for brainstorming help. This series wouldn't exist if not for them. Also thanks to my sister who has read these and deemed them "tooth-rotting fluff." She's a Duke fan despite knowing nothing about DC other than what she hears from me.

And I've decided to dedicate these two parts to my lovely mutuals so @citrinesparkles, this one is for you. I hope you enjoy!

And Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

total wc: ~1800

warnings: non-graphic mentions of injury, exhaustion, specific mentions of Christmas, so. much. fluff.

~~

Dick Grayson

wc: ~700

Dick yawns as he glances up at the screen in the airport. Baggage claim 6 holds the bags for the nonstop Christmas Eve flight from California to Gotham, apparently. He checks his watch: 1:30am. Well, Christmas now. Usually his family doesn't take commercial flights back from missions, but Dick’s cover demanded he take one from San Francisco to Gotham so he could use visiting California as his excuse. 

Dick hikes his bag a little higher on his shoulders, wincing a little as his elbow tweaks even with the brace, and heads to the escalator that would lead him to the baggage claim. This early on Christmas morning, the airport is quieter than usual and the everyday Gotham bustle has been replaced with a weird sort of hollowness ringing in the air. Dick stretches his neck out—sore from hours on the javelin then the plane—and stops short. He can feel a smile spreading across his face. It’s nearly 2am on Christmas day and yet there you are: standing by the baggage claim with a thermos in one hand, the other crossed over your chest. He sees the moment you lay eyes on him in real time, when your eyes light up and a smile splits your features, and there’s a beat of warmth in his chest. He gets to have that—no one else. 

Dick picks up his pace as you head towards him. And then your arms are around him and the solemnity of an empty airport can’t get to him anymore. 

You pull back first, arms around his neck shifting for one hand to cup his face before you pull him to a kiss. 

“Merry Christmas, Dickie,” you say, forehead resting against his temple. 

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Dick whispers. He pulls back this time, his left hand winding around your free one. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

You smile, handing him the thermos. 

“Bruce sent me the flight details—it’s hot chocolate, I made it before I left—Bruce sent me the details and I said I’d pick you up to surprise you.” 

Dick squeezes your hand as the two of you walk back towards the baggage claim. It’s moving now, a stilted circling around, though there are no bags yet. 

“Best gift I could have asked for.” 

“Oh so you don’t want the matching sweaters I bought for us the other day? Okay then.” 

Dick hands you the thermos so he can grab his suitcase as it appears around the bend, playing devastated. 

“Oh come on babe you know I have a weakness for sweaters,” he teases. You take the suitcase from him as soon as it touches the ground, swapping it with the thermos, and pull your linked hands over your shoulder, guiding him out of the airport and into the cold Gotham air. His energy is flagging now, even as the wind bites at his face, adrenaline from seeing you fading back into the after-mission kind of tired that a half-nap on a plane can’t fix. 

Dick blinks his eyes open and he’s standing in front of your car. He opens the passenger door on autopilot, dropping his bag at his feet and placing the thermos into a cup holder in the center console. He climbs in and pulls the door shut before putting on his seatbelt and leaning against the window. Behind him, the trunk slams shut. The driver’s door opens and you turn the key in the ignition, sparking a burst of warm air from the vents. Dick shivers, still leaning against the car window. 

Your hand, cold from outside, finds his and squeezes. Dick squeezes back, eyes half lidded now. He wants nothing more than to turn on the radio and sing Christmas songs with you for the 25 minutes it’ll take to get to his childhood home, but he’s quickly losing to his exhaustion. 

There’s a nose pressed briefly against his cheekbone and warm lips pressed to his cheek for just a second before they withdraw. 

“Take a nap,” you suggest. You selflessly know what’s best for him, always. Making sure you know a million times over will just have to be his new year’s resolution. He’s too tired now.  “I’ll wake you when we get to the manor. Everyone’s already expecting us down at noon tomorrow. We’re doing brunch.” 

And Dick, warm in adoration and surrounded by pine-scented car air freshener, lets his eyes flutter closed. 

Jason Todd:

See the full post

185 notes - Posted December 24, 2022

#3

Autumn Winds and Boyfriend Hoodies

jason todd x reader

(A/N): So my last few weeks have been something like open and close a show, then get COVID, then have 6 essays due this week, but after his week, I'll hopefully have breathing room.

This is a birthday gift for the wonderful Citi @citrinesparkles who has been so patient about my ramblings and is just a lovely human. Citi, I hope you love it :)

warnings: none that i can think of?

wc: ~1200

~~~~

It’s been a long day. There’s no special reason, nothing you did or didn’t do. You had the right supplies for your before-work caffeine and you left on time. You even found a ten at the bottom of your bag that you’d completely forgotten about when you went to buy lunch. But you feel like you didn’t sleep as well last night, and someone opened a window somewhere before you’d even arrived, giving the late autumn winds full permission to whip through the building, leaving an unshakeable chill in their wake. 

It’s an even chillier two block walk from the bus station to your building, and you welcome the heat as you step inside. Your plans tonight: shower, heat up leftovers for dinner, and watch a movie or two on Netflix before you go to sleep. Even better if your boyfriend can in fact make it over by 8. You got a text earlier in the day that he’d gotten safely home from his two-day mission with minimal injuries, so you’re optimistic. You open your text chain with Jason as you walk up the stairs to the third floor to let him know you’re home and he can come by whenever. 

And then you get to your apartment, walk inside, and it’s freezing. You toe off your shoes and head towards the heater. There’s no warm air blowing — which is expected as it feels like it’s 60 degrees in your apartment — and the light that glows to indicate it’s on isn’t blinking a dull green as usual. Five minutes of fiddling later, you give up and email the maintenance for your building. The automated response you get says that they close at 6 in the evenings except for emergencies—which you don’t qualify as—and they won’t get back to you until tomorrow morning.

“Great, just what I needed,” you mutter to yourself, stripping off your coat to hang it up and dropping your bag by the door. You take off your shoes and put your keys on the hook by the door. You’re already getting chilly. “A hot shower sounds really good right now.”

There’s a knock on the door 40 minutes later, after you’ve showered and heated up dinner and gotten your food and drink to the coffee table. The TV is on, showing you the Netflix home screen. You don’t want to put your blanket on your lap while you’re eating, so you resign yourself to just being chilly for the next half-hour or so. The knock comes as you’re scrolling through your list, searching for something low-effort to watch, and you let out a heavy breath before untangling yourself from your squished position on the couch in order to put your bowl and the remote on the coffee table and open the door.

Jason’s on the other side when you open it, in sweatpants and a hoodie under a leather jacket. Just seeing him makes your evening so much better. He looks exhausted, heavy bags under his eyes and in soft clothes, and there’s a spark of warmth in your chest because he trusts you enough to see that part of him and you feel so incredibly lucky. 

“Hi,” you say, and you can feel a dopey smile crossing your face. You see Jason’s eyes scan you quickly, traveling over your snowflake pj pants and fuzzy socks and one of his t-shirts, and he smiles back at you. 

“Hi babe. Did you want to stand in the doorway all night or?” You step back, opening the door wider as he comes inside. 

“You know Jay, if you didn’t want to eat the remaining leftovers in my fridge, you could have just said so.” Jason laughs, a bright thing that makes you smile too. 

“Missed you too.” 

He takes the door to close it behind him and then leans towards you. You catch his face with your hands as his arms circle around your waist and back. It’s a soft kiss, and his lips are warm, staving off the chill that you’ve felt since you walked in, and you take a second to press your forehead against his temple, just relishing in the fact that he’s here, safe, with you. 

He’s a little taller than he usually is, and you look down when you step back; he’s wearing work boots. He only wears those when he needs to fit something bulky in his shoes because he doesn’t have to tie them. 

“Minimal injuries, huh?” you ask. Jason follows your eyes down to his shoes and shrugs. 

“I’m walking, so I’d say it’s minimal.” You turn to the kitchen. 

“Sit down and put whichever ankle it is on the coffee table. I’ll get your food. And an ice pack.” 

When you look back at him, Jason is grinning. He hangs his leather jacket on his hook on your coat hanger. 

-

By the time you get back to the coffee table, any warmth you’d been feeling is gone, and the ice pack you have in your hands isn’t helping. You hand Jason the ice pack first and he positions it properly over his ankle before you hand him his food. He takes it with a murmured ‘thanks,’ and you hum in response, picking your food back up and sitting back in your spot on the couch. Your food isn’t warm anymore, more lukewarm, but you’re not willing to uncurl again just to heat it up. 

Jason’s settled on a movie, you realize; there’s something paused on the screen. You didn’t even hear him start it. 

“Babe, you okay?” When you look at him, Jason’s face is creased with concern. You feel guilty for making him worry when he just got back and you’re frustrated at yourself that it’s something so mundane. 

“I’m cold.” The words sound sort of whiny and pathetic to you when they come out of your mouth, but Jason’s face lights up. 

“Hold this,” he says, passing you his bowl. You take it, confused, as he wriggles around, pulling off his hoodie. It’s dark red and huge and has a tiny logo in the corner of what you think is a Wayne Enterprises shelter in the narrows. Jason takes his bowl back and hands you the hoodie, then motions for you to give him your bowl. You hesitate, fingers twitching towards the sweatshirt.

“I run warm, so don’t feel like you’re putting me out. It’s all yours, babe.” 

See the full post

224 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

#2

MYO Pizza Night

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): I love this series so much, though I know it's not why people follow my blog. I hope you enjoy anyway

warnings: mention of healing injuries

wordcount: ~880

(this takes place before the relationship becomes official, when all three of you are in high school)

~~

It’s Saturday night, and You, Damian, and Jon are in the Kents’ apartment in Metropolis. Damian and you have both been benched from patrol, him with a sprained ankle and you with a concussion, though you think that Bruce is pushing the concussion watch. You could probably be on patrol and be fine, but you’re also too excited about spending time with your two favorite people to argue. Jon’s on standby in case of an emergency, but his dad is also in town, out with Lois at a press event. You’re not sure why they consented to having three teenage superheroes alone in their house all night, but you’d rather be there than at your house, where your parent(s) would pretend that they're not intruding even as they do, or at Damian’s, where you’d inevitably have to deal with at least one brother or patrol emergency. 

Damian’s walking with a little bit of a limp that he’s trying to hide, Jon has made it his personal mission all night to carry Damian around for as long as he can without Damian pulling out some anti-Kryptonian countermeasure, and you’re torn between laughing, helping Jon, and keeping Damian from killing him. Damian really shouldn’t be walking on his ankle. 

For now, the two of you have delegated Damian to sitting at the kitchen table with his sprained ankle propped up on a chair and being iced as he organizes the supplies for making pizzas. There are three pieces of parchment paper with three different sized pieces of pizza dough on the table, and various containers of sauce and cheese and a couple toppings. You have to take turns making your pizzas because the oven is only big enough for one at a time, especially given the size of Jon’s. 

Jon goes first, and his is huge, topped with four different things and so drenched in sauce that you’re not certain that it won’t cave in. It doesn’t, but you watch it suspiciously until he puts it in the oven. The entire time you’re watching it, Damian is staring at you with narrowed eyes and an amused expression. You have half a mind to defend yourself and your reasons, but you don’t want to hear the inevitable teasing you’d get from Damian, so you instead ignore him and grab your pizza dough. You spoon on sauce and cheese to your own liking and add your own toppings. Damian is last, and he puts a lot of cheese over the sauce on his pizza, then passes it to Jon to put in the oven. By the end of the process, the three of you have gone through two bags of shredded cheese and just over a can of tomato sauce, and you’re laughing harder than you have in a while as Jon slips on a blob of tomato sauce on the floor — “See,” you whisper to Damian “I knew something was going to happen with the disaster that Jon calls a pizza”— and catches himself enough to do a sideways turn away from the kitchen counter... and then land face-first on the floor. If he weren’t indestructible, you’d be concerned he broke something, but he is, so you instead laugh, Damian’s snickers behind you only fueling your laughter.

By the time Damian’s pizza is out of the oven, Jon has eaten three slices of his own. You’re pretty sure he could have been halfway through if he hadn’t been talking most of the time, but you don’t mind. You like both hearing him talk and watching Damian’s face contort as he tries not to laugh. Damian’s ankle is free from the ice but propped up still, on the empty chair across from him. You’re on his left and Jon is across from you, which means you get the front row seat for when Damian makes a teasing retort and his cheeks flush pink. Damian’s smirk brings a smile to your face, too, and you wish that the moment would last forever. 

After dinner, when you’ve put the plates in the dishwasher, Jon’s put everything extra away, and Damian’s made popcorn (Jon tried to do it with heat vision once and blew up the bag. The entire house smelled of burnt popcorn for hours), the three of you settle on the couch for a movie. 

Damian’s holding the remote after Jon proceeded to look through every movie in the ‘kids and family’ section, just to get Damian’s reaction to most of them. You had to separate the two of them in the play fight that continued, but it ended with you sitting in between them, and they’re solid, reassuring presences next to you, so you don’t much mind at all. 

You and Jon both veto Damian’s suggestion of a documentary on the grounds of “It’s boring and I’ll fall asleep.” You share the sentiment, and despite his choice being shot down, Damian doesn’t seem too upset about it. 

You suggest a true crime movie, and Jon and Damian both agree, so Damian presses play on Netflix and you all settle in to watch. 

When Jon’s parents get home, they find the three of you on the couch, Damian’s head resting on your shoulder and Jon’s on your lap, the TV playing another movie in the background. 

293 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

What's a Lock to a Bat?

damian wayne x reader (featuring the batsiblings)

(A/N): I'm not dead!! I know I've been MIA but last semester was without a doubt had the most difficult and busiest semester of my life, and I've done so little writing. I want to do more now that it's summer so here's hoping. Thank you to everyone that's been patient about a request and stuck around; I am so grateful to all of you :)

I've been working on this story for i have no idea how long but have not yet managed to finish it until today and only did so because I really wanted to post something but don't have much finished so I hope you all enjoy it :)

wordcount: 2361

warnings: blood, injury, batsiblings being themselves

~~

Damian and you have been living in an apartment together for 2 months when the first bat comes through the window. It’s dick, and it’s a social call. It only spirals from there

__

It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and Damian has just gotten home from his last class of the day. You’re sitting on the couch, working on an assignment as he makes lunch in the kitchen. You suggested sandwiches, but he doesn’t eat deli meats, so you honestly have no idea what he’s making, but it’ll probably be good. 

A loud ‘clunk’ coming from behind your bedroom door has you standing up and reaching for the knives strapped to the side of the table right beside the couch and turning to Damian to see if he’s expecting anything or anyone he didn't warn you about. The fact that he’s pulled two of your largest kitchen knives and is focused entirely on the bedroom door tells you he wasn’t. 

You’re not as good of a shot as he is —you’re no field vigilante— but you can hit a target pretty well, especially when you know where it’s coming from. 

“Hey guys, how’s the new-Aye!” Dick says from the doorway, shrieking as he dodges a six inch knife that lands in the throwing target on the wall next to him. “Ok I guess I deserved that. Probably should have called first or something.” He smiles awkwardly and pulls the knife from the board. You’re pretty sure it went through and into the wall.

You sigh and relax, heart beating quickly from the adrenaline. “Or, you could have just used the door. We do have one, you know.” 

Damian is looking positively murderous, so Dick comes to give you a hug first, and you put the set of throwing knives away before allowing him to wrap you in a hug. He does give good hugs, and you can’t stay mad at him for long, though in all honesty, you weren’t really mad in the first place.

Dick turns to Damian, who has turned back to what you now see is boiling a pot of pasta. 

“So, what’s for lunch?”

~~

You’ve met Duke before, but only once, so you’re surprised when you get a knock on the door at 7pm on a Thursday evening and he’s standing on the other side.

“Duke, hi. Sorry if you’re looking for Damian he’s actually at the manor this-”

Duke looks quickly back and forth as if he’s expecting something to be coming up behind him 

“Yeah, I know. I may or may not have pissed him off and am looking for somewhere that he won’t find me. And I figured he’d never think to-”

“Check in his own apartment, yeah. Smart. But what makes you think that I won’t just tell him?” you ask, even as you move to let him in. 

“I was hoping?”

You lock the door behind him and move to lean against the kitchen counter. “How about this: If he asks me specifically if you’re here, I will tell him yes. If he doesn’t I won’t say anything.”

Duke collapses on your couch.

“Deal.”

As it turns out, Damian finds Duke by accident, as he’s leaving your apartment at 2am, the same time that Damian returns after his patrol shift. The look on both their faces is priceless, especially when you knew it was coming; Damian told you he was on his way back, you just didn’t tell Duke. Even after a ten minute lecture from Damian about what you think had to do with sword-display etiquette, Duke admits that you kept your word, and he stops by every few Thursdays (when Damian is at the manor) for an hour or so, just to say hi. 

~~

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1,552 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[tessatechaitea]

Dark Nights: Batman the Drowned #1

I can't wait to find out how Bruce Wayne got such a fantastic pair of tits.

"This is my wish! And I'm taking it back. I'm taking them all back!"

The explanation for Bruce Wayne having magnificent tits occurs in a brief Narration Box where Aquabat thinks, "The gender roles are reversed here." I used the word "explanation" incorrectly in the last sentence. By saying the gender roles are reversed, does he mean the people who are women on Earth-Negative-Guys-With-Awesome-Tits are men on Earth-Main-Earth? Does that explain why he's a woman named Bruce? Or is he a man but men on Earth-Negative-Guys-With-Awesome-Tits would be considered women on Earth-Main-Earth? Am I using the correct pronoun for Aquabat? I can't tell because is being a woman actually considered being a man from his Dark Earth? Is that what he means by the gender roles being reversed"? My boner is super confused right now! Oh! Everything becomes clear when the flashback happens and this is taking place on Earth-Negative-Eleven and also when I check back to the panel I scanned to see that Bruce Wayne is actually called Bryce Wayne. Is Bryce a non-gender specific name? Is any name, in this day and age, non-gender specific?! Down with parental labels that force a person (and others!) into seeing them as a specific gender! That's the fight we should be fighting! Also maybe the fight against circumcision. Can that be a major fight too? Hello? Anybody? Babies being mutilated here! Anyway, now I have a question. If the Batman on Earth-Main-Earth is the Batman that Barbatos is obsessed with, why are all these Dark Earths, created by Earth-Main-Earth Batman's dark thoughts, not versions of Earth-Main-Earth? Oh wait! I have an answer to my question! Because Batjoker is actually the Dark Version of Earth-Main-Earth Batman. He just happened to recruit other versions of Dark Multiverse Batman before coming to the main universe. So Aquabat wasn't created from a stray thought of Earth-Main-Earth Batman. She was created by a stray thought from gender bent Earth-11 Batman! Okay, everything is straight now! Oh, I didn't mean that to sound like a micro-aggression! I just meant everything was back to normal! Oh man. That was a micro-aggression too, wasn't it? I just reiterated my implication that straight is normal! Batwoman on Earth-Negative-Eleven decided to kill all the bad guys just like the Batperson on all the other negative Earths. Apparently that's Batman's constant dark thought on every world in which he exists. He just goes around thinking, "Why don't I just kill all of these assholes? Stupid Bat-Rules." On this world, he killed them all because they killed his lover Catman. Not that Catman! Differently gendered Selina Kyle! His name was Sylvester Kyle and my boner is disappointed that Catwoman had to get the gender bent treatment. I want to see Bryce and Selina make out. And yes that means I want to co-opt their lesbianism for my own heterosexual turn-ons! We can't all be saints!

Is the trident regarded as a phallic weapon or am I picturing dicks incorrectly?

I know I have a lot of fun attacking bad writers and artists in a hyperbolic way but whenever I hear Jim Lee give an interview, I feel bad about complaining about his scribbles all over the art he does. I genuinely like Jim Lee so much that it makes me hate myself for every time I critiqued a piece of his art that I didn't care for. Even though my hyperbolic rants are meant to be taken as the over-the-top ridiculous rantings of a rabid comic book fan, I know many people take this shit seriously instead of absorbing the whimsical feeling I have while while writing it. And since I like Jim Lee so much, I have to confront the fact that I might even like Scott Lobdell or (God forbid!) Cullen Bunn! Maybe I should stop being so mean? I mean so directly mean! I can be indirectly mean by making fun of the comic book and specific pieces of art that I scan because there's something wrong with them (like the way every colorist always fucks up the stripes in the American flag)! What I'm trying to say is this: "Jim Lee, I love you and I wish you were my father." So Bryce transformed herself into Aquabat to defeat all of the Atlanteans on Earth-Negative-Eleven. You know the story from the past Dark Nights books. Batperson wins but still can't save the world. Batjoker arrives with the shuttle to Earth-Main-Earth. Everybody rides the train to funkytown. Earth-Main-Earth suffers horribly because the Justice League are terrible at saving the lives of people who don't get to be characters in the comic book. It seems it's okay to kill thousands of people nowadays and still finish the story with the idea that the good guys somehow won. Aquabat turns Mera into one of its drowned henchman and then Doctor Fate saves Aquaman. Couldn't he have gotten there a bit sooner and saved Mera too? Or just saved Mera, really. Nobody cares about Aquaman. Dark Nights: Batman the Drowned #1 Rating: Apparently I'm reading a different comic book than all of the comic book review sites on the Internet. According to the advertisement for Metal in this issue, other reviewers are saying embarrassing things like "Like a good guitar lick, it'll melt your face off." Who writes that and thinks it's clever? Worse, who reads that and thinks it's clever enough to be used as a review blurb?! Here's another good one because it shows they know all about the metal music genre: "Just hold on tight and ride the lightning." Since it's an Internet quote, I'm surprised they weren't asking us to ride the "lightening." It's as if these reviewers heard about the concept of this comic series and wrote their reviews on that! Because I agree with the review that said "one of the most viscerally exciting comics series to kick off this year." But I only agreed with it before I read all of these tie-in Dark Nights books! And I only agreed with it before I had to actually think about most of Scott Snyder's plot points! I mean, I still agree with it in that I love this kind of comic book shit! And I'll love it even when it's not as good as I was hoping it would be. It's just that I can't bring myself to laud something in this way simply because it gets the comic book nerd inside me erect. I expect the writing to give me that same visceral feeling! It's just that it never does. Especially these fucking Dark Knight Origin Stories that are all basically the same. I think to write the kind of glowing reviews that Internet comic book lovers write, I need to just read the comic book without writing about it, not think about it while I'm not writing about it, somehow maintain a boner through whatever means necessary while reading it (to, you know, keep my interest and keep some of the blood out of my brain), and then talk about it with a really stupid friend who can't get enough of all the comic books. Then maybe I'd walk away thinking, "That was fucking awesome!" It's also possible I'm simply dead inside.