#v: Bruce-Bat: can I go where you go? can we always be this close; forever and ever? (harleen/crimeloyalty)

[godblooded]

@crimeloyalty​ asked :  i’ll cut you. ( bruce )

“ harleen! ”

my hands are up. she’s wild-eyed and lurching forward and snapping out, surging with whatever venom of the night she’s consumed. i try not to block her swings with my gauntlets alone; i know if she takes a shot too hard she’ll hurt her hand. i know that it can easily take a straightforward connection to shatter knuckles. 

and i know what she looks like when she’s panicking. when all she sees is red, whatever she may or may not be on in the moment. wherever she may be in the moment. 

the slash grazes my arm and i hear the fabric of the suit tear loudly, a trickle of blood compressed around the tight grip of titanium woven fiber. i duck another shot-- and grab her right at the end of the roof before her next swing pitches her over the edge. she winds up to strike again, and i prepare to take a full hit wherever she lands so i can use her momentum to tug her back to safety, to the cold purchase of the concrete beneath us. the wind whips loudly off the river. i prepare to make a fulcrum of us both before her own mania makes her little more than another chalk outline left in an alley. my heart races at the sight in my mind.

“ harleen, calm down! ”

[godblooded]

“ being rich, tolerant, and tolerable is a phenomena i haven’t witnessed. ”

she leaves me and i’m cold where i was warm only a moment ago. the absence of her leaves the presence of sudden discomfort, the comfortably shared blanket losing its tension. it’s not taut, anymore, and i let it sink off my shoulders and bunch into a tremendous pile beneath where i was sat. it’s forgotten into the enshrouded dark of strange, strange spontaneity.

i don’t ordinarily assume my late nights might end up alongside harleen quinzel saying i’d be willing to go to walmart. surely, that’s disturbed. it’s possibly a little absurd even for me.

i walk down the wide, high ceiling’d halls and don’t feel the berth of it towering in on me. i stopped being a boy here long ago, and now there are no words for what i choose to Become. she keeps in my eyeline and i watch her, listening. she has a nice voice— i can map the cadence and pattern of its fluctuations. it’s almost comforting.

dr. harleen quinzel. if i remind myself it means i’m less likely to accidentally say the wrong thing. it’s a neuropathway carved anew into the crevices of a cranial cortex. i was serious when i said i admired her dedication.

“ but your situation got in the way of your graduating. so you finished your residency and went the extra mile, but didn’t get to reap the benefits. ”

‘situation’ is the only way I know how to put it. situation. because between us both i know that we’ve been reborn in ways that break you, but we’ve both broken to jagged weapons. we’ve both Become.

“ it’s downstairs. would you prefer the bike or the car? ”

by downstairs, i mean down a tight spiral staircase my shoulders barely manage to clear. they brush one another, all stuck.

“ you need a sweater. it’s supposed to be windchill-heavy. ”

i break off into the kitchen briefly, entering the yawning expanse to slide open a drawer and take from it a small note, tearing the adhesive free.

will be home soon. will bring breakfast.

-bruce

i know alfred finds my love of frozen waffles ‘disdainful’.

godblooded​⸻ 

“ — are a lot more tolerable and tolerant than the rich are. ”

i can say that with confidence to it. no one knows it, not when i’m the element on the ground. the bat isn’t in the suit and it’s just a shadow, slinking in and out of alleys and bars, thrumming inside the heartbeat of the city. i’m impossible to find if i don’t want to be found, and if i want to be found, you’ll never get rid of me. i’ve spent weeks living on the streets and becoming a self i could never be. the version of me before that couldn’t survive, but i forced it to.

“ it’s all nepotism. no one is actually intelligent. if they are, they’re cunning. ”

intelligence and cunning are very different things. intelligence is the ability to put forth into the world a benefit from your mind. it’s meant to be used to help. i believe it should be. cunning is the slimy way the sludge of this city manages to squelch through the deepest depths and come up to the surface through the grates in every putrid sewer. cunning is the way that reporter was capable of slandering my mother without an ounce of thought about the person they were harming. the wealthy are cunning.

“ i admire your patience. doctorate. i considered it. i don’t have a bedside manner. ”

is that a joke or an honesty? it’s partial. it’s a joke and an honesty. ever since that night when i was young i felt the turnings of something inside me that longed to comprehend. surgery, maybe. but i lift my hand a little, slow and careful so she can see, and the tremor is too obvious to be anything but clear. my hands weren’t fit for that kind of delicacy. it’s another thing my parents’ killer took from me.

but it doesn’t matter who killed them, anymore. i looked into falcone’s eyes as he died, and with that everything i knew once died with him. if he had pulled the trigger, if he’d hired someone to pull the trigger. no difference, is what i learned in the end.

he was somehow responsible. and he’s dead now. i still find it hard not to chase ghosts.

i lower my hand back into my lap, lightly grip my pants to try to keep the tremble at bay. i know why i’m telling her all these things, and it’s because this is a sealed, encapsulated moment. this is a snow-globe where for once the snow she mentioned earlier doesn’t filthy to a decomposing brown.

“ — yes. i’ll drive. as long as it’s empty. ”

this, too, is an extension of trust. if she says it…. she doesn’t know who i am. this isn’t a trap. there’s no reason for her to try to lead me into one. if she wanted to extort money from me, i’ve made it more than clear she could ask and i’d cut a check. right now i’m only bruce wayne.

so i’ll agree.

“ i’d rather be rich than tolerable. ” i could’ve done a lot more good if i’d just had the money to fully fund my research.  if i hadn’t had to do my work on my own.  no point crying over it now,  but i do anyways. i lick my lips – they’re dry and i’m nervous – then look away. i don’t like talking about this. it’s the worst thing that j took from me. second worst.  he took my medical license,  too. “ i didn’t – finish my phd. that’s what i was working on when – that’s how i met – gotham u has this program where you get your phd while you’re doing your residency.  that’s what i was doing.  i finished my residency,  but not my phd.  i’m only half doctor quinzel.  i was only half. ”

i’m talking too much,  so i stand abruptly,  almost losing my balance because i’m so tangled in the blanket.  i get the weird feeling that bruce wayne would catch me if i did,  shaking hands and all.  i right myself just before i tumble into his lap,  clear my throat and twirl away until i’m free from the blanket.  then i jerk my head towards the door,  taking a few steps towards it before he’s even gotten up.  i don’t want him to change his mind,  because i don’t want this to end.  i don’t want to go back to feeling alone. 

“ it’ll be empty.  it’s late. ” i’ve got to reassure him so he takes me.  no other reason.  i certainly don’t look into his eyes and feel sorry for whatever i find there.  i tap my foot against the ground,  then,  because i’m incapable of shutting up,  admit that i was completely unprepared for tonight’s escapade. “ i don’t know where your garage is.  i gave up trying to find a floor plan for your house after i couldn’t find it on the first page of google. i could’ve pulled the plans from city hall,  but i didn’t want to go there,  so.  i don’t know where your garage is. ”

i wait for him to start walking,  then step to the side so he can get past me,  so i can follow him.  after a second,  i close the gap between us,  walk closer to his side so at least he can see me.  i don’t want to spook him now.

[veliseraptor]

Top five moments in the first Avengers movie

ah yes, one of my favorite movies in the MCU still! don’t care what anyone says. let’s see here.

1. Opening scene with Loki on Earth. What an entrance. Such a classic. And like...there’s so much going on there. Loki being a stone cold badass full of murder, the relieved smile when brainwashing Clint works out for him, how much he just generally looks like hell warmed over right off the bat...it’s a fantastic intro to him as an antagonist. Really just starting off with a bang. Literally, eventually.

2. Loki and Thor’s conversation on the mountain. They don’t get a lot of chances to talk in this movie, but all of them (both of them?) are good. From Thor dragging Loki out of an airplane to Loki just sitting down to wait while Thor and Tony duke it out...there’s a lot going on in a relatively short scene, in their dialogue, and their body language, and their dynamic in general. You can see how the enmity from the end of Thor has calcified and they’re talking past each other rather than to - there are ways that conversation could have gone where maybe things would change (or maybe not) but the communication mismatch is real.

3. The fight between Clint and Natasha (and bonus for the scene between them later). The fight itself is great because it’s really very brutal and savage. There’s biting, there’s hair-pulling, they’re very close in and just duking it out in a very rough way and it’s always struck me as two people fighting who know each other very well (which it is). And of course then the scene between them afterwards that established Clintasha as a forever pairing for me (still true!) - the dynamic between the two of them that was, again, captured and created in a very short scene.

4. Natasha v. Bruce. I find all the ‘character introduction’ bits in The Avengers super interesting (there’s another one on this list) and while this is technically Bruce’s intro I think it says as much if not more about Natasha. And it’s very much - even more than her technical intro scene - playing to her strengths. And the “do they start that young?” “I did” exchange is - woof. It’s just a good scene, and really good for Natasha, imo.

5. Steve’s introduction. Speaking of good introduction scenes. This is one where...I feel like a lot of the people who talk about how shallow Steve’s writing in The Avengers is, how he’s just a goody two-shoes boy scout, I think they have to have missed this scene. There’s the deleted sadness errands one, but this one is even more blatant about Steve’s isolation (he’s just! beating up punching bags one by one alone in a gym!) and trauma (he’s breaking punching bags, presumably repeatedly considering the line of replacements he has set up, and there’s the flashbacks), and he’s so clearly bitter and upset about so much (”they didn’t say what we lost” “you should’ve left it in the ocean”). Steve’s kind of a mess and I feel like this scene does a great job of showing us that before showing us “Captain America.” It establishes him as a character with a lot of his own issues, and I think people forget that.

Also a great shot of Chris Evans’ ass.

[scaryscarecrows]

The Cold Ache of Grief

AN: Happy birthday, Jason! Have a slightly happier possibility. Takes place in the Batman v. Superman 'verse, but only technically-there was a mausoleum and I wanted it. Mood music: 'Beautiful Lie' from the soundtrack.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9BL59uiAz8

It’s raining. That’s not new. It’s Gotham. The city is constantly weeping for its lost children, the horrors committed in its streets.

Or, Bruce thinks sometimes, it laughs so hard at the atrocities that it cries.

Whatever the case, it’s raining now, but not in here. Never in here. This building is strong and that might say something, that the walls protecting the dead are mightier than those protecting the living.

The only moisture in here now is by the door, where he shoved it open enough to step inside, and pooling by his boots, where it drips from his umbrella. He props said umbrella against the wall and makes his way across the cold, unforgiving cement, three flowers in hand.

Aster, for Mother-elegance, for she will always be the most elegant woman Bruce has ever seen. Always.

Gladiolus, for Father-strength of character. Bruce would never…he would not be who he is today, for better or worse, without Father.

And Snapdragons, for Jason. Technically they symbolize strength, but the real reason Bruce has them is because Jason always liked them.

He only comes at night, here, after the Bat is done, and only as Bruce. Not Brucie, Bruce. Just Bruce. He’s not sure why. Maybe so he doesn’t have to face them in the daylight, maybe in apology for not lying here with them. Alfred probably knows. Alfred knows everything (and oh, he is grateful that that’s not another flower to bring).

Dick’s been here at some point-he leaves daisies, always, a splash of light in this gloomy place. It was a little while ago-they’re well-preserved, resting quietly on the stone lid, and Bruce doesn’t touch them.

He sinks down to the floor, the chill creeping into his knees, stark contrast to that awful night when…the explosion, the fire, it had made the cement that wasn’t covered in debris burning hot to the touch and only later had he realized the extent of the damage, to the suit and to himself.

He’s sorry. He’s so, so sorry.

But sorry makes no difference, not now. Not ever.

It was a long night, a rough night, even by Gotham’s standards, and he’s so tired. He’s been tired, he thinks, for a long time, but not like this. Not like this.

Not for the first time, he wishes he could just lie down here and sleep forever.

He rests his head against the freezing stone of Jason’s…Jason’s coffin

No parent should have to bury their child.

and closes his eyes. Just a moment. Just for a moment.

Time gets away from him and at first he thinks he did fall asleep, or suffered a hit on the head at some point tonight-he’ll swear that there’s…stirring…under his ear. It’s not possible for it to be vermin, he knows that, he couldn’t…he made sure nothing…

He blinks and shakes his head, but the noise doesn’t vanish like it should. If anything, it grows louder, and-

“BRUCE!”

He scrambles back, falling on his ass in a very un-Batman like fashion, and struggles to his feet. If this is a drug, or the effects of a concussion, or whatever it is he will find the one responsible and make them pay dearly-

“BRUCE, PLEASE!”

And Hell, if that doesn’t sound like him…

But that’s not possible…

The stirrings become poundings, hard and desperate, and Bruce isn’t thinking when he leaps forward and pushes at the lid until finally, finally, the years of stillness give way and it slides, swiftly and with a terrible grinding sound, to the floor. The screaming stops.

And.

And, oh, dear God-

It’s been two years. It’s been two years and yet Bruce can remember every detail of his son’s…of Jason’s…they’d put him back. Back together, as best they could. Gone through the niceties of makeup and staples, put him in a suit he’d have hated.

The staples are gone and the eyelids they held are torn and bloody, the blood running into that damned cakey makeup that hadn’t done a thing in the end, and he’s staring (looking, not staring, the dead stare with no light in their eyes) at the ceiling.

But it’s been two years and he was…

He’s lost his mind. One of them-Scarecrow, Ivy, the sheer stress of the Batman-has finally eaten their way into his brain.

He can’t find it in himself to care.

“Jason.”

The eyes, blinking rapidly against the still-trickling rivulets of blood, snap to him in confusion and horror.

“Bruce?”

He’s well-acquainted with Jason’s nightmares, and God, if that doesn’t…he’s heard that tone before. Frightened, looking to someone to make everything okay.

(And oh, if Bruce hadn’t had a thousand nightmares of being late, of knowing that for once he hadn’t been there to make everything okay…)

They’re silent, Jason’s breaths (how…?) harsh and echoing in the suddenly too-small space, Bruce hardly breathing at all.

“Jay,” he whispers, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief, then reaching into the…the box to wipe the blood off the boy’s face. “good God…just.” He swallows, or tries to. “Just hold that there, the bleeding will stop, just…”

He needs to move his hand so Jason can take the handkerchief. But. But his face is warm, and solid, and…

And before it had nearly been shattered beyond recognition and now it isn’t and he doesn’t understand.

Jason, for his part, is still, eyes moving involuntarily under closed lids, hands feeling around him, fingers pressing against the stone slab under him and pulling carefully at his clothes.

“Bruce?” he whispers, one hand coming up to grasp Bruce’s wrist. “What happened to me?”

And Bruce is at a loss for words.

Jason tries to sit up and Bruce lets him. The handkerchief flutters downwards, temporarily forgotten.

“Where are we?”

His voice is gone. He tries, truly, to say something-truth or lie, it doesn’t matter-but he can’t. He can, however, hug him, that damned suit crinkling in his arms.

No softer than that cape should have thought about that but it’s warm at least it’s warm.

And that, he remembers, had been a thought. That it was cold in here, that Jason had hated being cold more than almost anything else and that he couldn’t let him…

Jason hugs him back, arms loose around his neck, and the blood and makeup smear all over his jacket and he does not care because he’s breathing, and warm, and he wasn’t, that last time, he was cold and still and silent and-

He buries his face in his hair and doesn’t even bother pretending it’s raindrops on his face.

“Oh, God, Jay…”

Jason’s starting to shiver, though whether it’s from cold or if he’s remembering something (Bruce isn’t sure which is worse) is up for debate. Regardless, they need to get out of here, to get home, Alfred can…

He picks him up and he’s as light as he remembers him having been, but no longer so…

“Bruce?” Jason shifts in his arms and he hadn’t done that last time, either. “Are we in the mausoleum?”

He’d never taken kindly to lies. Bruce doubts he’ll start now.

“Yes.”

The shivering worsens, turns to near-jerking and he should have wrapped him in his coat but he can’t set him down, not now, not in here, he’ll be dragged back. It’s like the Greek myth-don’t look back, you’ll lose them forever.

“I thought…” Frantic, shuddery gasps hit his collarbone. “I thought maybe…B, was I dead?” He doesn’t give Bruce a chance to answer before wrapping himself around him, somehow, and whimpering, “I don’t wanna be dead, B, I don’t…I didn’t mean…”

Bruce sinks back to the floor and rocks him back and forth, rubbing a hand over his back and sparing another thought of distaste for the crinkly suit.

“Shh, Jay-lad, shh.” He swallows back the lump in his throat-that will have to wait. “I’ve got you, Jason, I’ve got you, you’re all right. You’re all right, you’re here now, you’re all right.”

Jason may not even hear him-he’s sobbing into his shoulder, grip almost chokingly tight, and Bruce wishes that just once he had come as Batman. The cape can be gotten off with one hand. The mac, not so much.

“I didn’t wanna die.” Jason whispers, trembling and doing everything in his power to avoid touching the cold floor. “I didn’t wanna die, B, I swear I didn’t mean to…”

Bruce wants to be sick.

He swallows that, too, manages to open the coat enough to wrap it around Jason a little.

“That wasn’t your fault, Jason. God, that wasn’t…that was never…” He swallows again, manages to get back up. “I’ve got you now, it’s all over.”

He carries him to the car, unsure whether to be glad or not that he drove himself here rather than asking Alfred.

Alfred…how will he explain…and Dick. Barbara. This isn’t…a phone call won’t…

He settles Jason into the passenger’s seat and covers him with the now-wet coat (his umbrella is still in there…it doesn’t matter) before jogging to the driver’s side and diving in, half-expecting this to be a cruel dream, for Jason to be gone.

But he isn’t. He’s still there, clinging to the coat and clearly trying to calm himself down. Bruce shoves the divider console up and out of the way and figures to Hell with traffic laws, he’s the Goddamn Batman, when Jason closes the distance between them.

“We’ll be home soon, Jay, I promise.”

“Alfie?”

“Alfred’s there, Alfred’s just fine, he’ll make you some hot chocolate, like always, get you warmed up.”

“I don’t wanna come back here, B,” he whispers, and his voice is so, so small.

God, he’s only fifteen, please, no, take me instead, he’s just a child-

Bruce pulls him close, hand pressing against his chest and feeling his heart pounding against his ribs.

“You won’t, Jason. I’ve got you, it’s going to be all right.” He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s going to be all right.”

THE END

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1315

Monday, March 1, 2021

 Hi folks. Long time no write.

 I have been mostly isolating at home during the pandemic trying to keep myself and my family safe from Covid-19. I do go out and walk around our neighbourhood to get fresh air and exercise. I don't wear a mask outdoors like I do when I absolutely have to go into somewhere other people will be, like the drug store or my dentist's office. I get anxious when people come too close to me masked or not, but I also get angry when there is plenty of space to keep a safe distance and people don't move away. I have verbally admonished someone for being too close but have decided that I will keep my big mouth shut from now on and just get away from them myself. I don't know if I can keep my trap shut if I was confronted by the guy my brother did at work. This young guy came into the liquor store wearing a mask with a swastika on it. That would make me very angry. Angry enough to confront him? I don't know. I would like to be brave enough to ask him "are you for real with that mask?". Or "are you a Nazi?"…"you know the Nazis lost, right?". My brother would not serve him. It could have been worse though. That racist could have gone through his check-out without that ugly symbol on his mask and he wouldn't have known he was serving a bigot. I think it's better when you see them coming.

 My thanks to Doug for lending me his comic books to read.

 Daredevil #26 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Marco Checchetto (art) with Mike Hawthorne (pencils) Adriano Di Benedetto (inks) Marcio Menyz (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This book may have been put into Doug's sub my mistake but it gave me a chance to catch up with what's happening with the Man Without Fear. This is part 1 of "The Black Kitchen" which ties into Marvel's "King in Black" mega event. Knull is now on Earth and is wreaking havoc. Kinda reminds me of the "Maximum Carnage" event back when I was reading on the regular. Here we have Venom symbiotes running amok in Hell's Kitchen. What I found interesting was the current situations of the main characters. Matt is in prison after being convicted of murder. He can still wear his mask to conceal his secret identity inside. Not true to life but hey, it's comic books. Elektra is now protecting Matt's turf as Daredevil and she's got super scary horns. Wilson Fisk is still mayor with Typhoid Mary as his head of security now. The big shocking ending is that symbiotes get into the prison and one bonds with Matt. Another symbiote bonds with Mary and she attacks Elektra. This sets up overwhelming odds for the good guys as any good comic book will do. Stay tuned.

 Action Comics #1028 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) John Romita Jr. (pencils) Klaus Janson (inks) Brad Anderson (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). Bendis closes out his run on this title with so much schmaltz you're going to need a shovel to get through it. Jimmy Olsen is the new owner of the Daily Planet. What the nique? Conner Kent goes to the farm team. Jonathan Kent goes back to the future and the Legion of Super-Heroes. I don't know if a new art team is going to come on board but I sure hope so.

 Detective Comics #1033 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Brad Walker (pencils) Andrew Hennessy (inks) Dave McCaig (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). The art on the first page with Batman and Robin tumbling in the foreground with flashback panels behind gave me goosebumps. It's why I will always love reading comic books. Batman beats Hush by giving him a good old fashioned beat down. The rest of the Bat Family is saved and Bruce can take a breather. Now that the Wayne fortune is lost to him I'm curious to see where Bruce ends up after he moves out of the mansion.

 Batman/Catwoman #2 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). The jumping back and forth in time is a little confusing for me but I really like this Black Label story. The relationship between these lovers is more than complicated especially where the Joker is involved.

 DC kicks off 2021 with a plethora of comic books taking their characters 10 years into the future with their "Future State" event. Doug decided to check out the following.

 Future State: Superman vs. Imperious Lex #1 - Mark Russell (writer) Steve Pugh (art) Romulo Fajardo Jr. (colours) Carlos M. Mangual (letters). The story opens with a meeting of the United Planets inner circle. They are debating the inclusion of the planet Lexor which is lorded over by Lex Luthor, the supreme anal pore that we all know and loathe. Lois Lane is Earth's representative and she votes to reject Lexor's membership until Superman lobbies to allow his arch foe's planet to join so that the poor inhabitants don't suffer from Lex's villainous ways. It's a morality tale of Unity, Progress and Compassion.

 Future State: Robin Eternal #1 - Meghan Fitzmartin (writer) Eddy Barrows (pencils) Eber Ferreira (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Pat Brosseau (letters). In this future Gotham City the Bat Family has been decimated. Bruce is dead, Dick is in Arkham and Jason now works for the law enforcement agency that killed Batman. No mention of where Damian is. I have a feeling that the son of Bruce will show up later as a big surprise. Tim's the last man standing and he's vowed to continue the tradition of keeping Gotham safe. Too bad he doesn't live long fighting against the super cybers. The last panel reveals why this book is called Robin Eternal. Hint: the Lazarus Pits are involved.

 Superman: Worlds of War #1 -  This $7.99 US anthology of four stories starts off on Earth and ends up on Warworld.

 "The Many Lives of Clark Kent" by Phillip Kennedy Johnson (writer) Mikel Janin (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters) is my favourite one simply because I loved the art so much. This is where we find out why Superman is missing from Earth.

 "Time and Effect" by Brandon Easton (writer) Valentine De Landro (art) Marissa Louise (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters) features the new Mister Miracle poking around Warworld. Why? We don't know. Guess we'll find out if we keep reading.

 "Midnighter: Future State" by Becky Cloonan & Michael W. Conrad (writers) Gleb Melnikov (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Travis Lanham (letters) has Midnighter running around creating a bloody mess everywhere. It could have just as easily been Lobo or Wolverine in this piece.

 Finally "Do Not Go Gently" by Jeremy Adams (writer) Siyam Oum (art) Hi-Fi (colours) Gabriela Downie (letters) features the new Black Racer trying to free the slave labour on Warworld. Unless you're a Jack Kirby Forever People fan you wouldn't care.

 As a fan of Mikel Janin's art I would have felt ripped off having to pay for the three fillers in this comic book just to have his work in my collection.

 Future State: Catwoman #1 - Ram V (writer) Otto Schmidt (art) Tom Napolitano (letters). Selina is still Catwoman ten years down the line as she attempts to rescue Gotham City citizens being transported to a reformatory by train. Similarities to Nazi behaviour is an easy way to make the bad guys evil. All the previous Batman related Future State books say that Batman is dead but this one has a surprise at the end. Hey, it's Bruce in shackles.

 Future State: Dark Detective #1 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Dan Mora (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Aditya Bidikar (letters). This title blows the whole Bruce/Batman is dead plot device clear out of the water. I can see why the bad guys controlling Gotham City wants the populace to think that, but how are they going to keep up the charade when Batman is clearly running around fighting crime? I like that Batman has lost the cape in this one. This $5.99 US book has a back-up story by Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Carmine Di Giandomenico (art) Antonio Fabela (colours) & AndWorld Design (letters) that I liked even more than the feature. It follows Cole Cash AKA Grifter as he tries to dodge the law. He gets arrested and meets up with Luke Fox AKA Batwing and a whole lot of fun ensues. The Huntress showing up at the end makes this more appealing.

 Future State: Dark Detective #2 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Dan Mora (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Aditya Bidikar (letters). This issue explains how Bruce Wayne/Batman "dies" and how Bruce continues to fight crime. I was disappointed that the back-up story didn't follow up on Grifter and Huntress but was a different story about Jason Todd/the Red Hood now working for the bad guys as a bounty hunter capturing masked vigilantes. It starts with him bringing in the Vigilante and ends with him teaming up with a ruthless Ravager to stop an old school Red Hood gang leader stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Rose has no qualms about killing their bounties but Jason brings them in alive, that's why their nickname is "dead or alive". Har. I like Jason's Akira bike.

[hysterialevi]

In the Smoke pt. 7 (Cobblebats) Also thank you guys for 30 followers!!

From Oswald’s POV

I grabbed Falcone by the neck, squeezing hard enough just to make him struggle as he wiggled helplessly in the air, a dangerous, groaning creak emitting from the beam he was hanging from. 

“I don’t got all day,” I snarled at him, “and neither do you. This tower ain’t holding your weight forever, mate, and the GCPD will be here soon. So just tell me what I need to know before I lose my patience, and I might let you go.”

Falcone scoffed. “You expect me to believe that? You just blew my club to hell, and look at my men!” He gestured to the bodies lying around us. “They’re all dead! What’s stopping you from doing the same to me?”

I stepped closer to him and pointed my gun under his jaw, glaring. “Nothing.”

He still refused to comply, and kept his mouth zipped tight. I pressed the gun even harder into his skin, leaving a dent.

“You have the technology to hack into Arkham’s records,” I explained. “And you’re gonna tell me how to do it.”

“And what if I don’t?”

I chuckled. “Then you’ll be of no more use to me, and I’ll kill you. And once I’m done with you, I’ll go after the Waynes, and repeat the exact same process. You think you’re being a hero by defying me? All you’re doing is makin’ it worse for my other enemies...your friends.”

Falcone tried to turn away from my gun. “Why the hell are you even interested in that loony-bin? What could you gain from it?”

My eyes narrowed in anger. “Gain? I didn’t gain shit from that hellhole, but you clearly benefited from it.”

He still looked confused, so I decided to spell it out for him.

“...about twenty years ago, there may have been a woman who was part of a rich family. She had a loving husband, a piece of land that you stole...and a little boy. A son...who was left all alone because of what you did.”

Falcone took a better look at me, his mouth dropping open. “...no. You can’t be--” He blinked rapidly a few times, completely dumbfounded. “...O-Oswald?”

I grinned behind my mask. This was too fun. 

“I told you I’d come back one day, didn’t I?” I taunted. “That I’d destroy everything and everyone you cared about, and send your fortune spiraling down in flames.” I moved my pistol from his jaw to his forehead. “You’ve lived in peace for long enough, Falcone. Time’s up.”

Before I could pull the trigger though, a sharp pain suddenly stung my hand when something hit it, flicking the weapon out of my grasp as it was sent sliding across the floor. I whirled around to see who else was here, and prepared for another attack, only to spot an iconic Batarang sticking out of a nearby wall with its blade barely lodged into the sturdy surface. 

“Let him go.” A low voice said. 

Not too far away from me, lurking in the shadows, was a pair of glowing, white eyes. I smirked, spreading my arms out to my side.

“Batman!” I exclaimed, approaching him. “It’s. About. Time. You set a bomb off, you’d expect a visit from Gotham’s number one vigilante.”

He took a step forward in an intimidating manner, clenching his fists. “I said let him go.”

I glanced over at my bodyguard, Roland, who was standing somewhere off to side. “You hear that, Roland? That sounded like an order.” The blue giant came out of hiding and began prowling towards Batman, cracking his knuckles.

“I’ll crush him.”

“Now, now,” I stopped him, “have a little respect for the Bat. Think he underestimates you.” 

As expected, Batman said nothing in return and simply stared at me, observing the situation like a hawk.

“Listen,” I told him, getting his attention. “I doubt you came here for small talk. You’re obviously here to save Falcone’s arse, which we’ll get to in a moment, but my only question is...why? This man,” I threw a firm punch directly into the crime-boss’ gut, causing him to reel, “don’t deserve being rescued. He’s a bloody gangster--if you can call him that--and he’s been running away from justice for ages. I thought ‘Batman’ was all about justice.”

The vigilante grimly examined the scattered corpses. “This isn’t justice.”

“Pfft, what, and a courtroom is? You can take Falcone to jail as many times as you want, Batman--but he’s always gonna get out. And he’s only gonna go after more victims.”

Interrupting our conversation, the sound of police sirens started to near the club, and I could hear the speedy footsteps of police offers as they tried to break in. I retrieved my gun from the floor and let out a dramatic sigh, Roland blocking off the vigilante from me.

“So sorry this didn’t work out, mate. I’d stay to watch--I really would, but I’ve got a Wayne problem to deal with. Perhaps we can continue this at a later date.” For some reason, that seemed to strike worry in Batman.

I turned to Falcone. “As for him...”

Casually waving goodbye, I shot the rope tying Falcone’s hands to the beam, causing him to plummet immediately through the air with a frightened shriek. Batman instantly bulldozed his way past me and Roland, ignoring the original reason why he came here, and took out that grapple-gun of his, diving off the edge after Falcone. He really was crazy, wasn’t he?

Before either of them could make it back up here however, I decided to take this chance to escape and sprinted out of the club with Roland trailing behind me, evading the GCPD along the way. So, I may not have gained any information from Falcone as I planned, but at least I had a new weapon in my arsenal--and that weapon was waiting to meet me at this very moment.

From Bruce’s POV

I sat patiently in Oz’s office, waiting for my friend to return as I watched the news. So far, there was a recorded count of eleven deaths, and over twenty were injured and in critical condition. Whoever this Penguin was, he certainly caused a good amount of damage, and by attacking the Skyline Club so blatantly, it was obvious that he was trying to send a message. As for Uncle Carmine, he had been saved by the famed Batman, and was now being treated in Gotham’s precinct. As far as I could tell, he wasn’t as badly harmed as the other victims, but he was still in dire need for medical attention. Despite hating what he did for a living, I couldn’t help but worry a little for my uncle. He was still family, after all.

Shutting off the TV, I started to think about what Harvey said back at the café. As obvious as it was, I was still surprised that he actually admitted to being infatuated with me. I didn’t get a chance to respond to his confession, and to be honest, I was kind of grateful for that. Even if that bomb hadn’t gone off, I wouldn’t have known what to say anyways. I mean, Harvey was a friendly and compassionate guy--there was no doubt about that--but I just didn’t share his attraction. My mind was already occupied with fantasizing about someone else.

After a while of waiting, the office’s door finally swung open, revealing Oz in the entryway. He was only wearing his white v-neck right now, and his black coat had been slung over his shoulder. There was a deep, red gash on the back of his hand, and he looked like he had just gotten out of a fight. What happened?

A smile came to my face. “Oz, you’re back. Are you all right? You look like hell.”

Oz looked at me as if he were thinking about something. “Oh, this?” He lifted his hand. “It’s nothin’. Just had a run-in with Batman.”

I froze. “Wait, what?”

He didn’t elaborate much on the subject and simply carried on as always, until his brow raised with realization and he began wrapping a bandage around the wound. “Oh, that’s right...you don’t know about Penguin, do you?”

Was he implying what I thought he was? 

“Oz,” I said suspiciously, “...are you the Penguin?”

He grinned. “The one and only.” Cutting the bandage, he walked towards me. “I would’ve told you sooner, Bruce, but I was worried it’d scare you off.”

“I get that, but if we’re gonna be working together, we need to be honest with each other. All right?”

Oz nodded. “I can work with that. Anyways, we’ve got a lot of work to do. That debate is just ‘round the corner, and it’s the perfect opportunity to expose Falcone, Hilll, and your father.”

“How do you mean?”

“Think ‘bout it. All of Gotham is gonna be watching that night. The entire city’s attention will be on the debate. If we show the evidence there, there won’t be a man, woman, or child who don’t know about the mayor’s crimes.”

I was still a little lost. “But what evidence do we have?”

Oz raised a finger. “That, mate...is where you come in. Apparently, your father’s got access to the records and databases of...pretty much everywhere in Gotham. City Hall, the GCPD, you name it.”

He grabbed a chair and sat on it backwards, scooting closer to me. “I need you to find a way to pull up the records of Arkham Asylum, and send them to me. They’ve got an endless supply of security footage and patient files that could help us tremendously, and we can play ‘em at the debate. What d’you think? Can you handle that?”

I had no idea that my father had such resources, and I didn’t know how he was able to access so much information, but if growing up around criminals helped me do anything--it was being sneaky. I would have to keep a close eye on my father, and watch his every move, but also avoid suspicion at the same time. With enough patience, it was definitely possible.

“I got it covered.” I said.

He winked at me. I melted inside. “Thanks, Bruce. Well, I should get to work on preparations. In the meantime, you just focus on getting that evidence, all right? I’ll take care of the rest. Oh, also--” Oz shrugged, “--sorry for ruining your date with Dent.”

I chuckled. “It wasn’t a date, Oz. I mean, he likes me, but...”

He caught on pretty easily. “You don’t like him back, do you?”

I shook my head in guilt. “No.”

“Who do you like, then?”

My words got stuck in my throat at that question, and I felt myself blushing, but my silence alone was able to say more than enough. Oz grinned flirtatiously.

“Oh, I see. Well...can’t really blame you.”

“I should mention that arrogance is a huge turn-off for me.” I joked.

“Oh, but blowing up a tower on live TV isn’t?”

“You have a thing for theatrics. I respect that.”

He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Anyways,” Oz stood up from his chair and headed for the door, “I’ll start getting everything ready. You just do whatever it takes to find those records, okay?”

“You got it.”

And with that, Oz was out and off to work once again, leaving me alone with one of the biggest tasks of my life. I assumed that my father would have some complex security system to keep out people like me, and I didn’t even know where to begin when it came to hacking. Though, he was away from home right now. This was a good chance to snoop around. I just had to avoid Alfred.

Exiting the office, I shut the lights off behind me and made my way out of HQ, wondering just exactly what the hell I was getting myself into. I loved my father, and the last thing I wanted to do was fight against him, but if he was going to keep harming Gotham like this, I didn’t see any other option. He had to be stopped. 

Even if it meant he had to die.

[godblooded]

@crimeloyalty (x)

“ i just want to be good. ”

and she doesn’t know what’s going on. or what good is. but she does know she’s dissolving into hysterics, clutching so tightly at her mom that she’s afraid she’s going to hurt her. she lets her grip up, remembering— lately something is wrong. lately she feels like everything is wrong. she can’t tell mommy or daddy because she’s terrified to terrify them.

she wasn’t supposed to be like this. it was supposed to be done when she was a child. it wasn’t supposed to get worse. it wasn’t supposed to change.

it wasn’t supposed to fucking fill her with thoughts. angry ones. violent ones. she feels like an animal. dick insists that anger is normal, and she’s handling it as best she can. jay tells her he’s the feral one in the family, and there’s only room for one. tim asks her if she feels okay, and then states that since his body is 90% caffeine in this family they’re very accepting of abnormalities.

it doesn’t matter that she’s bigger than all her brothers. she still feels safer for the hug.

bruce steps forward still in the suit, cowl absent, forgotten on the computer’s panel, and sweeps the both of them into an embrace that leaves open this space he’s conscientious of. he’s never all encompassing, but he’s always a pillar to lean on. he would rather be that. and he stays there with his arms around his wife, his eldest daughter. when his neck cranes he kisses harleen’s head first, followed immediately by trish’s, the nurturing gesture of a loving animal. worry doesn’t fill his bright blue eyes, but a sorrowful sense that he knows too well. he hates when trish hurts. he hates when she feels helpless.

he never forgets that feeling. for a minute, he’s always a child again.

“ you’re so good. ”

the singular inch or two he has on trish is enough to press a kiss to the crown of her head. she heaves greatly in her mom’s arms and then the crying begins again, sinking, finally crumbling.

bruce doesn’t address it yet. they’ll have to. right now, he wants to keep it to making their daughter understand she’s loved and heard. that’s the first step.

“ you’re incorruptible. don’t forget.”

patricia unfurls from against her mom as though she’s seven again, feline limbs fitting her neatly into the bat’s arms halfway, clutching onto her parents with that desperation only trish can truly portray. 

“ i’m so proud of the person you are. let us help you be the person you want to become. ”