#wayne sounds so broken here. wayne torture stream

[daydreamycrustacean]

i just found this old scorpy clip from the frogger streams saved on my google photos.....

i think its because i wanted to make an animatic out of wayne´s anguished screams.

[unsolved-duvall]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐞.𝐦. (𝟏𝟖+)

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary you and eddie broke up because you were too scared to love him. so when you need someone and he's the only person you want to run to, what are you supposed to do? (4.8k)

warnings talk of a bad home situation, mentions of abuse, references to mental health, anxiety, crying, very subtle mention of a panic attack, angst i suppose?, fluff, smut, kissing, unprotected sex (don't do this!), lots of feelings. i have probably missed something i'm so sorry <3

The downpour of rain beat down against the windows of your car and was almost loud enough to drown out the myriad of thoughts that were swirling around your mind. 

You didn’t know why you were here. 

That was a lie, you knew exactly why you were there. It was because this was the only place you could think to go. And Eddie was the only person you felt safe with. Never mind the fact that you had broken up last month. You had been the one to break up with him. 

But tonight every emotion you were feeling felt too overwhelming. The sadness and anxiety that you could normally let go of seemed to consume your every thought, washing over you like a wave until they drowned you. Of course, it didn’t help that the only sounds around to drown out your thoughts were those of a not-so-calming nature. 

Your mom and her boyfriend had been fighting constantly. Screaming, shouting and harsh words became a sort of white noise in your household. You would listen with your door cracked open in case you needed to call for help. You felt an innate need to protect her, even from herself. 

The fighting was so common that it rarely bothered you anymore, but tonight everything had gotten to be too much. It was non-stop, pushing you to the edge and causing you to get in your car and drive over here without thinking twice about it. 

And now you were sitting in your car, fiddling with the necklace that hung delicately around your neck, before slipping it back underneath your jumper, letting the ring that hung from it hit your cold skin. And tried to figure out what the fuck you were thinking? What made you think he would even want to see you? You had broken his heart, he had told you that. And those words played on repeat in your head every day, like your own personal form of torture. 

Eddie knew you didn’t have a great home life. It was why you practically lived with him and Wayne when you were still together. You had your own drawer full of clothes and your belongings were always dotted through the trailer. A book you were reading thrown on the sofa, your blanket folded over the back of a chair, or your toiletries in the bathroom next to Eddie’s. 

You never spoke about the reason you were there so often. You didn’t need to. Eddie knew all too well what it felt like to live in that sort of environment, so you never needed to explain anything to him. When you would turn up at his door at midnight, tears streaming down your face and shaking hands clenched by your sides, he didn’t need you to tell him anything else. He pulled you into him and rested his head against yours and asked what you needed him to do. 

You just needed to be with him. 

So that became a sort of routine between the two of you. Eddie would wait for you each night, and when you would ultimately turn up in the early hours of the morning, almost no words would be exchanged between the two of you. Instead, you would walk to his bedroom and fall asleep next to him. He understood. He knew you were tired and didn’t feel safe falling asleep in your own home sometimes. 

If simply letting you fall asleep curled up next to him was all you needed, he would do it until the end of time. 

Until you let the guilt overwhelm you. Eddie deserved better, he didn’t deserve to be in a relationship where he felt like he had to protect you all the time. You could look after yourself, take care of yourself, you had done it for years until you met Eddie. But there was this nagging thought in the back of your mind that you were relying on Eddie too much, and would eventually hurt him in one way or another. The break-up was quick, you barely let him get a word in before you left him standing alone in his bedroom. Confused and heartbroken. 

You left so quickly because you didn’t trust yourself not to change your mind if you looked at him any longer. 

Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be knocking on his door right now. It was exactly why you should turn around and go home, instead of being in the one place you shouldn’t be. It was- 

“Oh- hey,” Eddie stood in front of you, his hair falling in loose curls around his shoulders. He looked tired, unsurprising considering it was almost midnight, but still, it was an unnerving sight. His usual honey-thick smile was nowhere to be seen. 

There was uncertainty flickering in his doe eyes. But he didn’t tear his gaze away from you for even a second. 

“Hey um- fuck, okay I’m sorry I should-” your voice trembled as you fought to get the words out. The truth was you weren’t entirely sure what you should even say to him. 

Do you apologise? Do you tell him what’s going on at home? Do you tell him that you feel like you haven't been able to breathe since you broke up? 

You hadn’t realised how long it had been since you’d said anything, but you see Eddie raise his eyebrows, almost hidden behind his hair, and you stumble on your own feet, taking in a shaky breath and opening your mouth to say…something. 

But nothing came out. So instead, Eddie said, “Look, why don’t you- shit, at least come inside, it’s too fucking cold to be standing out here.” 

You nodded your head and he moved to the side to let you step into the warmth. You felt something heavy settle over your chest, being back here it was… it felt like home. The soft orange hue of the lamps lit up the rooms. The aroma of home-cooked food hit you and you remembered how many times Wayne would make sure there was a spare plate of food set aside for you, in case you turned up. 

The TV was playing quietly with the soft murmurs of the dialogue, from the film he had clearly been watching, echoed through the trailer. You were pulled out of your thoughts by Eddie calling you over to the couch where he had already sat down again. 

You considered telling him you had made a mistake, but your feet carried you over to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. You sat down on the other end of the couch, pulling your legs up and sitting with them crossed in front of you. Eddie watched your every move, taking in all of your little mannerisms he had missed so much. 

“Are you…are you okay? I mean you used to come here if it got- you know if it got bad.” Eddie asked you, his eyes fixed back onto the TV the minute he started speaking to you again; almost as if he was afraid of what he would say if he kept looking at you. 

“Yeah, they uh- I don’t fuckin’ know why they do this shit to themselves. They fight all the time, they’ve gotta be miserable.” you tried to sound as casual as you could, but even you could hear the distress your voice carried. 

Eddie heard it too and it made his whole body tense up. He still wanted to fix everything for you. He still wanted to pull you into him and tell you everything would be okay. 

“Yeah I know sweet-” he cut himself off before he could finish the word, but it made you feel close to tears nonetheless. Even after what had happened, he still immediately wanted to call you that. Fuck. 

Eddie cleared his throat before he carried on speaking, clearly thinking over his choice of words. “I know but- you know they’re fully grown adults, you can’t…you have to let them sort their own shit out.” 

“That’s my mom, Eddie-” 

“I know, shit I know.” You swear you could almost see the way his eyes glazed over as his memories came flooding back to him. You didn’t know everything about his past, but he had told you enough. 

“I just worry about her. He’s not a good guy, you know? But I couldn’t stay there tonight, and I know that makes me the worst fucking daughter but-” 

“Hey, no. Don’t say shit like that.” his voice was harsher than it had been before, with a kind of authority to it that sent shivers running down your spine. 

He still cared about you. Of course, he did. -

“You are not responsible for protecting your parents, that is their job. You are not a bad daughter, you’re a- shit, we’re still kids. We shouldn’t have to deal with all of that, it’s not fair.” you knew he was talking more about himself now, and that made it hurt even more. You being here, the reason you were here, brought up a lot of trauma for Eddie. But he would never outright admit that.

You turned to face Eddie, moving closer to him so your knees scraped his, and leaned against the back of the couch, resting your head on your hand. “Yeah, you’re right.” Eddie fiddled with one of his rings as he listened to you speak. You had to resist the urge to lean over and hold his hand in yours. “It’s not fair. But there’s nothing we can do, so…” 

“So…here you are.” 

“Here I am.” 

There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just…quiet, and relaxing. There was something unspoken exchanged between both of you. Some mutual understanding that right now wasn’t the time to talk about everything. Even though Eddie had a million questions for you, for now, he was happy enough to have you sit next to him again. Like you had done a million times before. 

You leant back again, sinking into the couch cushion beneath you and let your eyes drift back to the TV. Eddie copied you, relaxing into the couch and resting his head against the back of it as you both sat in silence. 

After ten minutes or so you couldn’t help but steal glances at Eddie every now and then. The light from the TV lit up his face, and from this close to him you could see the light freckles that dotted across his nose and underneath his eyes. His eyes were almost honey-brown in the orange hue of the room, and you could tell he had only washed his hair a few hours ago. His curls had a soft frizz to them and you missed how they felt between your fingers. 

Your gaze moved down to where his hands were resting. You didn’t realise how much you could miss someone's touch. He always used to have one of his hands on you. Whether he was holding your hand, resting it on your leg or letting it run up and down your back as you lay next to him. 

Soon enough the film ended and Eddie stood up to sort it out; you watched him and for a second you were sure he was going to ask you to leave. 

But then he stood up from where he had been kneeling down next to the TV and sighed before saying, “Come on.” 

“What- what are we doing?” you moved to sit up on the couch but didn’t stand up just yet. 

Eddie looked around the room for a second as if he was gathering his thoughts before he lifted and dropped his shoulders in contemplation and said, “What we used to do. I’m not letting you go home tonight.” 

You hesitated for a moment, “Well I can sleep on- on the couch.” 

“If that’s what you want to do then that’s okay. But you don’t have to, you can sleep in my room. No expectations, nothing. I promise.” A subtle rosy flush coloured his cheeks whilst he spoke, and you bit back a smile at how even the mention of it had him nervous. 

“No, yeah of course, um well thank- thank you.” You stood up and followed Eddie as he made his way to his room, turning off the lights as he went. 

Before you had time to ask Eddie for clothes to sleep in he was handing you one of his t-shirts and a pair of your pyjama shorts you must have left there. “You can get changed in here, I’ll go to the bathroom.” 

“Okay, thank you Eddie.” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. With Eddie out of the room, you took a second to gather yourself. You felt your heart start to race and your hands shake, a tell-tale sign that you were getting overwhelmed. Only this time you knew it would all be okay because Eddie would be back soon. 

You changed into the clothes he had given you and you sat on top of his bed waiting for him to come back. Even though you knew you would be sleeping in his bed tonight it still felt somewhat presumptuous of you to get under the comforter already. 

You heard movement from outside his room and sure enough, Eddie walked back through his bedroom door a moment later. He had a pair of boxers on and the same t-shirt he was wearing earlier. 

You knew he always sleeps in just his boxers, but you also appreciated he probably left his t-shirt on out of respect. 

The truth was you wouldn’t have minded if he didn’t leave it on. Feeling his skin pressed against yours used to ground you when nothing else could. But you supposed things couldn’t be the same anymore. Of course, they couldn’t. 

Eddie’s eyes dipped down to your neckline, you weren’t sure what had caught his attention at first, “You still wear it?” 

What- 

Oh. 

The necklace. With his ring on it. He gave it to you after he had developed a habit of slipping his rings onto yours fingers whenever he got the chance. He gave you the necklace and his favourtie ring because then there would “always be a part of him with you.” Which was exactly why you still wore it. 

“Oh um- yeah, I do. I’m sorry if that’s strange or…” 

“No. No, it’s not weird.” you saw a pained expression paint his face before he smiled and turned around, facing away from you. 

“Are you gonna get into bed or?” You could hear his signature smirk even if you couldn’t see him, his back was turned to you as he finished taking his rings off. 

“Oh- yeah, okay. ‘M sorry-“

“You need to stop saying sorry, just act normal. This can be normal, right?” Eddie walked over to his bed and threw himself down under the covers, he was all long limbs and curly hair and for a second you didn’t know why the hell you had ever left him. 

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say in response. It felt like he was giving you a chance to explain yourself. To tell him what was going on in your head. 

“Yeah this can be normal” was you all could say. Because you did want this to be normal, but you needed to know what Eddie was thinking, so as you lay down next to him and stared up at the ceiling you said, “Do you hate me?” 

“Do I- shit, why would I hate you?” you weren’t sure if the disbelief in his voice made you feel better or worse. 

“I was an asshole.”

“You broke up with me, that doesn’t make you an asshole, that makes you a person who has her own thoughts and feelings. And makes her own decisions” Eddie’s voice didn’t carry much emotion. It was flat and monotone, and you had never heard him sound like that before. 

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be… I don’t know- annoyed with me for how I did it.” 

“What? You came over, you told me you didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore and you left. What else were you meant to do? A break up’s a break-up.” you couldn’t see his face, both of your expressions shrouded in the darkness of the room. 

“I shouldn’t have… I should have explained myself to you, but I was… I wasn’t doing good, you know? And I guess-” 

“You fell out of love with me, it’s okay. It happens.” 

His words hit you like a punch to the chest and your breath got caught in his throat as you processed his words. Fallen out of love? No. No, you could never fall out of love with him. You loved him too much. You loved him so much it terrified you. A stillness took over the room, and all you could hear was the ruffling of the sheets as Eddie turned over, muttering a reluctant good night under his breath.

You didn’t want to push any boundaries he was clearly putting up between the two of you. You had hurt him and you knew he was only protecting himself. But it killed you nevertheless. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and blinked back tears. Turning over to fall asleep, in the same bed you had done so many times, except this time you weren’t curled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. 

A few hours had passed and although you were trying, you couldn’t let yourself drift off to sleep. You lay in complete silence and let your thoughts ruin any chance of you getting a peaceful night. Eddie was asleep, you thought he was anyway. Just as you had decided to get out of bed and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, you heard movement beside you. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie. His voice was thick with sleep, deeper and rougher than it usually sounded, but a voice you were all too familiar with. 

“Yeah ‘m fine.” 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie had turned onto his back now, waiting for an answer, and when you didn’ reply he simply said, “you only say you’re fine when you’re so far from it that it scares you.” 

“I just can’t sleep, that's all.” you lay back down and hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I never fell out of love with you.” 

You felt Eddie still next to you, and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears and your cheeks heating up. 

“Oh.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I was so scared that- that we would end up being exactly the same as everyone around us. I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t-”

“You still love me?” you could hear the pain that laced his voice as he breathed out the words. 

“Yes.” 

The words sat heavy between the two of you, the room was still dark, almost pitch black, but a lone streetlamp from outside allowed a slither of orange light to screep through the space between the blinds, allowing you to see Eddie’s face. His eyes cut to yours when he said, “Then why did you do it?” 

If your heart wasn’t already in pieces then Eddie had just made sure of it. His voice was soft, as if he was afraid of the answer. 

“Because what if we turn into our parents.” 

“Oh, sweetheart-” 

You were crying. Silent tears that fell down your face, pooled in the corner of your eyes and stained your cheeks with the reminder that you couldn’t trust yourself to love someone in fear of hurting them. Eddie didn’t cry, but that was because he had cried so much after you had ended things with him that he didn’t have the energy left to cry now; although hearing your breath hitch with every tear that fell threatened to send him over that edge with you. 

“Come here, it’s okay.” Eddie cooed, and you didn’t waste another second not being in his arms. You stretched out your arms to find his already waiting for you, pulling you into his chest and letting your head rest there, where it used to rest every night. 

You let him wrap you in his arms and you let yourself sink into him, throwing a leg over his and nuzzling your face into his chest. He whispered comforting words into the still air and you listened to him, truly believing him when he told you he loved you. 

You told him you loved him too. 

You lay like that and spoke about everything you needed to until you noticed the sun peeking in through the curtains, replacing the soft orange light of the streetlamps that had graced the room throughout the night. Eddie told you that you should both try and get some sleep, you nodded your head with the little energy you had left and let your eyes drift shut. 

You slept knowing you were back where you were always meant to be. 

By the time you woke up the room had gone dark again, and you felt a panic surge through you at just how long you must have been asleep for. Eddie was stil there, holding you. 

“What time is it?” your voice was raspy, the way it always was when you had just woken up. 

“It’s only the afternoon, you’re okay.” Eddie ran his hand over your back and pushed your hair out off your face to look at you. 

“Why is it so dark?” you aksed him, perplexed. 

“The sun got really bright, you know as the sun does,” you laughed at his words, more so you laughed at how he didn’t even realise what he said was funny. “And you started getting restless, I didn’t know if it was bothering you so I put a blanket over the window and drew the blinds again, so it would be darker.” 

He must have pulled you back against him when he got back into bed. “How did you… put a blanket… over the window?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” It scared you how sincere he could sound even when he was joking. “I’m magical what can I say.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed “you really are.” 

Eddie let out a sigh as you moved off of him, laying on your side and staring at him. Eddie mirrored your actions, moving to rest on his side so you were face to face. 

“I’m still so sorry about-” 

“What will it take to get you to stop apologizing to me?” Eddie asked you, faked annoyance in his voice. 

You smiled and your eyes flicked down to his lips. He noticed, the same way he noticed everything. “Can you kiss me?” 

“Yeah” he breathed out before he had his hand resting on your cheek and his soft lips pressing onto yours, your bottom lips between both of his. He kissed you like he had never stoped kissing you. He kissed you like it was the one thing he had been put on this earth to do. And you kissed him back like you had something to prove. But mostly you kissed as if you were kissing the life back into each other. 

The kiss stayed slow and gentle for as long as either of you could hold out for; but suddenly it all became too much and when Eddie’s tongue ran over your bottom lip you let the dam break and allowed it to consume your entire being. 

You kissed like the other could slip away at any moment. Somehow, in between desperate kisses and his tongue running over yours, Eddie had moved to rest above you, his arms caged around either side of your head, holding him up. You let your fingers get tangled in his hair and he let his lips move down to your neck, his head nustled there as he kissed over your most sensitive spot. You already knew your neck would be covered in small reminders of him by the end of this; red and purple love bites marking your neck. 

You let him kiss you and touch you and you were sure you would let him do whatever else he wanted. When his hand slipped under your pjyama shorts and you let him touch you, you knew you would have to let him do whatever he wanted later. Because right now you needed to feel him inside of you. You needed to be as close to him as the laws of the universe would grant you. 

“Eddie, fuck, please I need you to fuck me.” you had never been paticurally graceful with words, not being blessed with a way of words like Eddie was, but right now that didn’t matter because with Eddie’s lips on your neck and his hands roaming your body there wasn’t a chance in the world of you stringing together a coherent sentence, let alone sounding like Shakespeare. 

You felt Eddie‘s lips curl up into a smile against your neck before he pulled away from you, lifing his head to rest his forehead against yours. “You don’t want me to-” 

“No. No, please baby I just need you inside me” you didn’t like to beg but with the way his eyes bore into yours you knew you would beg until the end of time if you had to. Not that Eddie would let you do that. 

“Okay, okay angel. I’ve got you, gonna give you what you need, huh?” Eddie pressed a chaste kiss to your swollen lips before he pulled away from you again, pulling of his boxers whilst you desperately tried to get your shorts and panties off as quickly as you could, your shaky hands making the tast exponentially more difficult than it should have been. Eddie took over for you, pulling them down your legs and tossing them off somewhere into the darkness of the room. 

You pulled him back to you, your hand resting on the back of his neck and kissed him until you felt dizzy, and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Sweets, I need to get a condom-” Eddie spoke between deep kisses. You knew he was right, but you were on the pill and you hadn’t slep with anyone else since Eddie so… 

“No. I need to feel all of you.” you knew your words had taken Eddie by surprise, but by the way his brows knitted together and his hips rolled against yours, you knew he was just as desperate for it as you were. 

“Are you sure?” Eddie looked right at you, watching your face for any uncertainty. But when all he was met with was a breathy yes and begging eyes he let himself do what you were asking of him. 

Shared okays and a bout of almost-nervous laughter was shared between the two of you, but was suddenly and brutally ripped away from you when Eddie sank into you and you felt the world re-align on its axis. Everything making sense again. 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking perfect sweetheart. I missed you so much, you have no idea-” 

“I missed you too.” 

Eddie let himself breathe for a minute or two before he eventually started rocking his hips gently into yours. He took it slow, wanting to savour every moment he got with you. He promised himself he would remember how your lips felt against his as he swallowed your whimpers and moans. He remembered how your nails felt scratching down his back whenever he hit that sweet spot inside of you that only he could reach. When your back arched off the back he let his arm slip underneath you, pulling you close to him and fucking you through everything you were both feeling. 

Not many words were exchanged, apart from the occasional whimper of one another’s name, because you didn’t need words to express what you were feeling right now. 

Once Eddie’s hand slipped between your bodies, you were coming undone underneath him like you had done so many times before. Only this time it felt like the start of something more. Eddie buried his head in the juncture between your neck and your shoulder as he came undone only a couple of seconds after you had. Both you of you held each other through the overwhelmingness of your highs, your hands running through his hair and his hands holding onto you like you were all he needed. 

You stayed like that for who knows how long. Sharing stolen kisses and whispered promises. Time didn’t matter when you were with Eddie. Nothing mattered when you were with him, that was the beauty of everything. You were the only people who could quieten each other’s minds.

.

.

.

authors note hi loves. i wrote this tonight in just under two hours with a raging headache and the occasion cry. so, if there are spelling or grammar errors i can only apologise. it is 1am and i don't have the energy to reread it and check. i hope it wasn't too bad nonetheless <3

taglist @lunarzstarz @emmalee-01 @lma1986 @eddieshoneyy @harringtonfan4 @leelei1980 @joeschains @keirasreplies @niname92 (this means i tried to tag you but i couldn't!)

tumblr please don't delete any of this thank you love you

[gingkos-eldritch-secret]

Fanfiction commentary and recommendations: Lex Luthor´s ascend from supervillainy to fatherhood Part V (chapters 21 to 25)

The Original story by @halfagone can be found here.

The previous parts of the commentaries can be found here:

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part VI

Part VII

We left off with the Joker free, Parental figures and vigilantes worrying and a legendary girl´s night. What could go wrong?

The answer is everything.

I´ll warn you now, because I´ll be discussing the things happening in the fic: be cautious about the gore and torture and visceral descriptions about violence here. I mean, it´s Danny Phantom and DC. So a little bit of this shouldn´t surprise any of us if we think about the subject matter. Especially because it´s the joker we´re talking about. But yeah. Even though I won´t be all to graphicgraphic, I´ll still be referencing these topics.

On another note: the social media part of this fanfiction is giving me life.

○○○••○○•••○○••○○○

Now we dive right into the first scene, where goodbyes are being made. Catwoman goes home after a night of card games and shenanigans and Danny sleeps on the couch squished between two hyenas and please could someone draw this scene? Because it sounds utterly adorable. Or has he slept earlier? I have no clue, my reading comprehension at 3 o´clock in the morning has never been the best.

Or well. Danny already has slept on the couch. Now he just wants to flee from a certain ex-villain who wants to put him into one of her old costumes.

Selina meets Bruce on the way home, who seemed to have had a long night of searching behind him. And still, as exhausted as he must look, she is still thristing after him. Power to you, i guess. I mean it´s the two furry adjacent people, so I´m not surprised xD

They also talk about the reason 'why' bruce is so tired and Selina finally grants him a small respite and just tells him where Danny was - and off the bat goes in the hope that he´ll find Danny before the Joker does. And that´s just the problem, isn´t it? Because when it is foreshadowed like this? It never happens as we hope it does. So, of course the Joker finds Danny first, but that comes later.

First Harley and Ivy´s place gets blown up, while Danny has been on his wa to Wayne manor. Does he go farther away from the explosion? Of course not. It´s Danny 'herocomplex' Luthor we´re talking about. So, of course, he runs towards his new friends´house.

And as hard as Tim tries to get there in time, Danny was faster and the Joker? He had already been waiting. They straight up drive into Danny with a van and pick him off the floor like a ragdoll before they zoom off. Not that it will do the Joker and his goons any good in the long run, but for now they´ve certainly succeeded in their quest for violence.

As the clown realizes that Danny is Luthor´s ward and not Batman's he gets the absolutely hilarious (not) idea of getting a camera. With the thought process 'what will Lexie do when the brat is being being broken and tortured on live camera'? God, he´s such an awful person.

Though I think that is quite degratory to the 'person' part of this sentence. I don´t know what I want to call the joker, but even monsters have more humanity than this. So then what is he? An abomination? A thing? A blight on humanity? Either way, he´ll get his comeuppance.

So the joker broadcasts a torturing session on live television. With Danny already roughed up from the … way he has been brought to unconciousness by the man and his goons.

Meanwhile good old Jim Gordon is feeling faint because. That´s Lex Luthor´s son. That´s a civillian. That´s a freaking CHILD being tortured. And he can´t even do anything to help.

The Joker gets some torture advice from the life stream viewers (and how much do you have to abhro a person to do something like this? How inhumane must you be? How much must you dehumanize the person being tortured to even get the bright idea to bring them even more pain?). And also just uses some of the nice comments for torture adivce. Someone compliments Danny´s eyes? Would be a shame if we took them now, wouldn´t it?

I think poor old Jim worries even more because Danny is so uncharacteristically silent. Not. That him being loud would be much better, what with the Joker being the Joker …

And Lex is just entering boss mode as he watches his son beng tortured on live television. I understand the man.

And the bats are just frantically searching for the warehouse used. One of these days they´re getting a heart attack from all of their regular adrenaline highs.

So while the Joker just gloats into the live stream and taunts the viewers he does not realize that Danny being Danny slipped through his bonds and took the knife stuck in his thigh out all the while slipping into the darkness to ambush the joker with a gun. He took out the camera instead and the chase? Was on.

It really is an action scene absolutely worth reading, but it ends with Danny getting a shot to the shoulder and Joker getting a shot to the chest. Of course that doesn´t stop our most hated abomination though. Oh No. He wants to take Danny with him.

And Danny? He has had enough. He just. Melts the Joker´s brain via eldritch form and that´s that for now. Until Jason bursts in and finds them and just gets Danny the hell out of dodge and into a hospital.

Though at first there´s Jason freaking out a bit at the situation because: how did that happen? I mean, I understand his priorities. Especially because Danny doesn´t look like he could pack a punch and the Joker seems to have died because of fright (though he also realizes that he died of blood loss) - with his hair turned white and his face a mask of horror. But the man who killed him is finally, finally gone. And while he ruminates Danny wakes up.

Jason realizes Danny knows it´s himself. He realizes that Danny somehow knows his idendity and while he wants to talk about THAT, he also sees just how horrible Danny´s condition is and wants to get Danny to agree to a hospital. Good idea, but the trauma is just. The trauma …. Poor Danny.

He´s still a snarky little shit though, because he instantly banters with Jason as he does first aid, horrified at the implications of Danny knowing how to get a bullet out of himself via FORK. Danny what the fuck???

So while Jason gets Danny to some transport vehicle, they talk. And Jason grapples with the inormation that a) Danny somehow seems to be able to see souls and b) has died before.

It´s kinda ruined by Danny telling him that 'I told you guys I had a heart failure. You realize that you technically die when your heart stops, right?`  Never change Danny, never change. Now, we know that that´s not the whole truth, but ... yeah I can see why he´d use that as a shield. It is technically the truth after all.

So while the GCPD forces Danny into the hospital, Danny …. Wants Jason to come with him. Jason can´t really say no when Danny trembles with fear, now, can he? At least one of them doesn´t have to be alone with their fears for now.

Lex is on a more or less literal warpath as he storms into the hospital asking after his son. And he begins to immediately rip into Gordon beause that is his son. With a hospital trauma. In a hospital. And while he still doesn´t like this, at least Red Hood is with him. Better him than Brucie boy in any way. (And wow, that were many 'hospitals' in a short paragraph ...)

Danny and Jason talk and I think Danny was this close to fist fighting the doctors when they wanted to give him an anaesthetic for the bullet removal. I like the attitude and I know he did it, because those things don´t work on his weird biology, but still. The part of me is just so immensely worried it´s not even funny anymore.

Jason is doing an introspection about Danny and his pain tolerance, the reactions to hospitals and the scars and i think he just wants to put him into bubble wrap and keep him somewhere safe. i feel u bro, i really do. But as you´re part of a story, I seriously doubt you can fo that. We can´t from our past. Even if we desperately want to. Doubly so in fiction. Especially in fiction. I mean. it´s a literary device :')

Lex arrives on the scene and instantly begins to fuss over his son. It´s honestly sweet, even when he threatens the nurses and doctors present to sign NDAs or ELSE.

I also think Jason realizes how important Lex is to Danny when he just instantly melts into his arms and begins to cry, even though he´d held strong before. Nary a tear or reaction. But people do react differently with people they feel safe with.

And he feels jealous. Because he could´ve had this with bruce, couldn´t he? If not for the pit or his reactions. Or is it his own fucked up personality keeping them apart? I don´t think that Jason really knows anymore.

So while Lex thanks Red Hood for being there, Jason reveals that he hadn´t done much. Which leads to attention on Danny who´s basically like 'So I kinda maybe killed the Joker? *jazz hands*'

Which is of course the moment Batman enters. Now that can only go badly. Not that many things in this fic have gone well . I have the feeling that i say this in every part at least once and i DON´T wanna repeat myself so often, but. Well. Ain´t it the truth anyways?

So. Lex may or may not have dwindled in his opinion on both Bruce Wayne and Batman. And really, who can blame him?

One could not keep his son safe in the first place and the other couldn´t save him when the Joker got him.

Of course he´s hating the situation. And of course he´s frustrated with the people here now. Especially as Dick wants to talk to Lex alone as Gordon and Batman interrogate Danny. And it is an interrogation. Or it will be. I think that´s happening in the next part. And oh boy... It will not be pretty. At all.

Dick and Lex --- well the conversation certainly could have gone better. And they certainly could have behaved better in the first place, but …. Lex respects the honesty and the reasons. Honestly, Dick´s a straight up miracle worker in this regard. Props to him! He deserves a cake for that masterpiece. Seriously >.>

Lex not happy about any of them. Not in any defintion of the word. But he accepts it. The family is still on very thin ice for now though.

And Lex ....he now knows what other think of him as a parent. How they fear for Danny. Because a former supervllain as an adoptive father all of a sudden? People do not believe that. He realizes what could have gone wrong now. And that´s just painful to think about. Who would want to think about being a bad parent? What if Danny hadn´t wormed into his cold, dead heart? I think I´d have felt sick if I realized how close I came to being the same as the neglectful parents and the abusive godfather ...

He also thinks of how easily Danny could have been just another Wayne child instead of his own. And while he now certainly hates Bruce less, I doubt that he´ll like him either for a long time.

[siacatgirl]

Okay, so here's a change of pace for me. I decided to tap a bit into my old fanfic roots and write down some thoughts for my MC Jessica to giver her something more concrete to work with. Sort of a stream-of-consciousness drabble... with a slight twist.

I hope you find it enjoyable.

The rhythmic creak of wooden boards under my boots feels almost welcoming. Like being greeted by an old friend. It’s a strange feeling.

But not at all wrong.

When did these harsh bricks, grey and cold like an overcast sky, start to seem so inviting? Since when have I started glimpsing ghostly sparkles of recognition from the ghoulish features all around me, prickly edges of their painted forms rising to form the faintest of smiles at the sight of me? Then again, they don’t have to try so hard. Everything above this underground prison (I can barely make myself call it a basement at this point) emanates such sterile emptiness that a mere attempt at calling it a clinic would make inhaling a noseful of chemicals less stomach-churning in comparison.

I almost miss Misty hovering somewhere just behind my ear. Her presence always gives me peace of mind that these shapeless forces at the corner of my vision, be they friend or foe, are indeed there. Now I have to keep myself from second-guessing whether I indeed saw something, or only what I wanted to see.

Maybe Sasha’s more down-to-earth nature will do me some good.

I almost snicker internally at this practiced ease with which I tell Reese that his mom is just looking out for him, that it’s her overprotectiveness talking and not her simply being a controlling matriarch. The better part of me, the one that wants to be more like Pastor Daniel, that honestly believes most people are good deep down inside, it tries to give her the benefit of the doubt, that the Doc is but a single mother doing her best under the weight of crushing circumstances with what little information and illusion of choice she has.

And then I remember the contents of her journal and I reconsider.

Briefly my eyes overlap the rigid, dare I say scientific illustrations of castor beans with the doughy faces in Reese’s sketchbook, and I have to blink to make them go away. Thankfully, nobody noticed, being more focused on the topic of possible impending doom for the town. The pencil lines did remind me, though, that I still need to suggest posing for a sketch sometime. My heart briefly fills with the warmth of his fingertips on my cheek and the light of his eyes in this dimly lit coffin, but then sinks to the ground with the crack of a broken pencil. Such a shame it won’t see the light of day…

Wayne, I will never forgive you for ruining the moment. Ever.

The mute whispers from his paintings are still there, though, at some unseen corner in the back of my mind. Once more I yearn for Misty’s presence to envelop these silent sounds into something more concrete to wrap around. The hum is deafening. Sasha does a well-enough job at steering my wandering mind away by giving me a white mug to mentally “slap these bad boys on”, as she puts it, but my eyes are still within a dim haze as I gingerly poke my finger at one of the smaller paintings. It feels disappointingly solid. What was I expecting? That the miasma would swallow my hand with a wet gurgle of paint for the eager Smear to bite at my finger?

No way. The brush won’t let them. The strokes will keep them caged from our realm until the times comes. These tortured, anguished screams of a caged being, given form. Its calls have always been there, lying in plain sight. All you need to do is look around. It will never cease its attempts to be heard, to break through the bars, to make its presence known. Even now, as Reese stretches the skin of his arm to show off its elasticity, it’s still there, squirming with an itch deep within the muscles, prodding with its claws for an exit.

Doctor Kelly’s commanding voice rolls down from upstairs, cutting the reunion short. The dinner is about to begin, and with it, the daily dose of poison. The gall of this woman. Right in front of us! But all that would come out of beating it day after day after day is making it angrier. More bloodthirsty. Then no amount of tranquilizers will save you from him giving up his humanity for a chance at freedom.

My eyes follow the mural by the basement stairs as I climb up behind Stella and Kaneeka. In a matter of time, Reese will follow its story.

The beast won’t have it any other way.

But a Shadow need not be a malevolent force of nature. It can be a powerful ally, should you learn to accept it. I know you can. You still have that chance.

You may look like a monster, but you don’t have to be one.

[wellthatjusthappend]

Not sure if this is how I do this but can we have some mer!Dick saving human!Jason for a pirate ship or something? I love those two and I ned moooore!!!!

Yes I can! You came to the right place :)

Pirates were the worst.

It was not the first time Jason had thought this, but it might very well be the last.

Admiral Wayne had been chasing this particular band of pirates since before Jason even joined his crew. The clowns and their captain Joker had been rumored to be somewhere in the surrounding area, but they hadn’t managed to locate them yet. The crew had been reloading supplies on an island and Bruce had ordered everyone to stay on the beach. Still, Jason had thought he’d seen something in the jungle so he went to check it out.

A mistake he was almost definitely going to pay for with his life.

The Joker’s goons dragged him back to their ship where the Joker spent the next several days beating and burning and bleeding Jason within an inch of his life and then restarting the process.

Apparently torturing Jason was a wonderful way to pass the time while the Joker waited for Bruce to catch up to them. A tiny part of Jason still desperately hoped Bruce would make it in time to save him. The more realistic part of him knew that he wasn’t getting out of this one alive.

Sure enough, when Jason heard the call from the crows nest that a ship had been spotted, Jason was hauled up to the desk and tied to an anchor.

“Well Robin, it’s been fun, but it’s time to play with your daddy and I can’t have you getting in the way. You understand, of course,” sang the Joker, grin like a bloody slash across his face.

Jason’s lungs felt like they might be partially collapsed, but he managed to spit a glob of blood onto the Joker’s face nonetheless.

“That,” Joker back-handed him, “wasn’t very polite. And here I thought I might have taught you some manners during our time. Ah well, maybe the fishes will.”

He hated them. He absolutely hated pirates.

Jason stared up at the sky so that the Joker’s grinning face wouldn’t be the last thing he saw before he died.

And then he was tipped over the edge of the ship into the water.

He sank fast. The sudden crushing pressure from all around him was excruciating. Jason screamed out his air in a stream of bubbles as he felt the white hot pop in his ears breaking. And still the anchor pulled him down. The light was disappearing fast, and Jason wasn’t sure if it was because of the depth or how close he was to dying. Possibly both.

The last thing Jason saw before he lost consciousness was a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him.

****

Jason woke puking up saltwater into the sand. It burned and it felt like it would never stop. As Jason started to lose consciousness again, he felt cold wet hands on his sides turning him over.

****

The next time Jason woke up, it was with a whimper of pain as his broken arm was set into place. There was a drag of something wet against one of his cuts, followed by a feeling like everything in that area had been set on fire. Jason managed to look down at an inhumanly beautiful face smeared with Jason’s blood as he- they?- lapped at the wound.

Wonderful, Jason managed to think, he survived the Joker only to be eaten alive by a Mer.

The feeling of fire spread and Jason let it take him into unconsciousness again.

****

The first thing that Jason thought when he woke up for good, was that he should be dead.

The next thing that Jason thought was that it was it was too quiet. His body still hurt all over, but not quite like he thought it would. There was no blissful moment of forgetfulness about his situation. Jason remembered exactly what happened to him: first the Joker, and then getting dragged into a Mer’s lair… the stinging feel of it’s wet tongue on his skin. Mer were venomous, everyone knew that. Jason still didn’t know why he was alive.

Jason groaned slightly, and then paused. He’d felt the vibration of the sound he’d made, but he hadn’t heard the sound. It was too quiet. He could feel the water lapping at his feet, but he couldn’t hear it. He knew his breath was coming out harshly and definitely audibly, but… nothing.

He reached up to his ears and felt the dried blood there. Remembered the pain peaking in his ears as he was dragged underwater too deep too fast.

He let his hand fall away.

So it was like that then.

Jason flinched hard when a wet hand touched his skin. There had been no warning.

The Mer was a beautiful as his fevered mind remembered. More even, as he was able to take in the details of their lithe form and the blue stripes of their scales. The spines of their fins on their arms and back helped them look deceptively delicate, but Jason knew that the venom in any of those spikes would be enough to give even a large man a heart attack.

The Mer’s mouth moved as they said something and Jason felt his chest constrict.

“I can’t-” Jason croaked- at least he thought he said that. He couldn’t hear himself to know if he was understandable, “I can’t hear you.”

He saw the Mer’s eyes widen and strange look flickered across their face before they simply nodded. Instead, they slowly mouthed words and lightly touched his side where what had been Jason’s clothes had been torn up to bind his many injuries.

“Am I alright?” Jason translated. The Mer nodded. Jason swallowed and thought about playing it tough, but there really was no point, “No.”

The Mer’s mouth turned down, but they didn’t look surprised.

Honestly though, what was weird was that despite the enormous amount of pain he was in, it really should have been a lot worse. His bruises were gone and the cuts and burns that he’d had were sensitive pink scars.

“How long was I out?” Jason asked with a frown.

The Mer hesitated and then raised the webbed fingers of one hand.

“5 days?”

The Mer nodded.

“How is that possible?” Jason murmured starting at the healed scars.

The Mer tugged Jason’s hand to their face and cut a thin line into his skin with a nail. Jason swallowed as blood welled up and the Mer kept eye contact with Jason as they licked over the cut and then sucked. It should not have looked sexy, but it did.

The moment their saliva touched his skin, it burned and went numb. There was that same feeling of fire spreading through his hand, but toned way down from what Jason remembered. When the Mer drew away, the cut was nothing more than a sensitive pink line on his skin. Jason flexed his hand, but the cut was truly closed.

“I don’t understand,” Jason said staring at his hand, “That should- you poisoned me. That’s what that feeling is, isn’t it?”

The Mer smiled ruefully and waved their hand vaguely.

“How does that even work?” Jason frowned.

The Mer hesitated as they thought, and then held up their fingers pinched almost closed, then made a gesture as if something was coming to rest, and then held up their pinched fingers again.

“You gave me a little at a time?” Jason tried, uncertainly.

The Mer nodded eagerly.

“So in little bits, the venom healed me instead of killed me?”

The Mer nodded again.

“And now my body just, what, got used to being poisoned?”

The Mer’s shoulders shook with laughter as they gave a half shrug and a smile. They were beautiful.

Jason wanted to hear that. Even if tales had said that Mer’s voices were dangerous, that the sound of them could drive men to insanity. Jason wanted to hear. He knew he’d adapt, that he’d be fine once he adjusted, he just- in one fell swoop, the Joker had stolen several parts of his identity.

Things would never be the same again.

The Mer touched his arm again. While Jason had been brooding they had dragged themselves up onto the sand next to Jason and were looking at him in concern.

“I’ll be fine eventually,” Jason promised, “Thank you for saving me. My name is Jason.”

The Mer’s face lit up. They wrote in the sand and pointed to themselves.

Jason couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Hello Dick.”

[jasonp43]

Jondami week 2019 Day 3: Dancing in The Dark

Prompt: Homecoming

Synopsis: Its prom night, members of the league, young justice and teen titans have gathered at the gala. It's all smiles for everyone.. everyone but Damian Wayne. His date was late... 7 years late by Jon's count.

A/N: I suggest listening to the song Damian plays when reading through that part of this fic.

Damian Wayne, youngest son of the Bat was once again alone. Standing by the sidelines, much to everyone's surprise. He's barely talked to anyone and hasn't eaten a thing since the night started. He was cold, colder than usual and no one could really figure out why.

Artemis with Wally, dancing like they owner the place, the Question with Helena, earning a few curious looks, hell, even Jaime found the balls to ask out Bart, the latter of which only responded with "That's totally crash", a smile on his lips as he kissed Jaime, before dragging him onto the dance floor.

Damian stood alone, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against a wall his pressed suit getting a few wrinkles. He hasn't danced with anyone tonight, and it's not for a lack of people trying.

Zatanna, Raven, Maya hell even Garfield asked for his hand on the dance floor. All of whom were immediately shot down by a blunt "No." And a "Fuck off." For beast boy when he wouldn't stop asking.

Jon made Damian promise he would be his first dance of the night. Damian obliged, honestly he wanted Jon to also be his last dance of the night, not caring to be with anyone other than him.

That promise is one Damian intended to keep, and so he waited. And waited. And waited.. and waited...

Unmoving from the spot he Jon agreed to wait for one another. Even as the rest of the guests left, and the ballroom went dark Damian wouldn't move a muscle. Kent wouldn't lie to him, Kent wouldn't break his promise! Would he...?

He kept his head bowed, arms over his chest, eyes closed tightly.  He would wait, he would listen, he would wait to hear Jon's voice break the deafening silence.

Then he heard a voice, a voice that broke the silence.. albeit not the voice he was expecting.

"Hey- uh.. kid?" An old janitor part of the clean up crew- or well.. he was sum total of the clean up crew, said to him. His voice unsure.

"Get out." Damian demanded, his voice harsh and bitter. The man recoiled, grumbling something along the lines of 'spoiled brat.' As he left the room.

Damian slowly opened his eyes, his gaze moving from end of the room to the other. Looking over the messy white cloth tabe tops, the discarded glasses and plates streamers and confetti on the floor other clutter in the room.. hoping to see Jon there, waiting for him to spot him.

But Jon wasn't there.

Damian tightened his fist, as he felt his face contort into something almost no one ever saw.. a face only ever saw.

He felt a single tear drip down the side of his cheek, falling to the floor. Damian let out a pained growl as he turned and plunged his fist into the wall, cracking it.

Breathing heavily, he felt the rest of the tears in his eyes threatening to break as he fell to his knees. Tears began to stream from his face, mixing with beads of sweat as Damian clutched his sides. Wails of agony and whimpers of sorrow reverberated throughout the halls, filling the previously joyous gala with a sense of.... emptiness.

"I can't..." Damian managed to say, between breaths. "Why did you-.... Kent.. how could you..? After I finally opened up to someone.." Damian said, sounding defeated.

"No! Why did I... choose to finally open up?! Why the hell did I choose to trust.." Damian said.. tears streaming down his face as he grabbed lochs of his hair, tugging harshly on them "WHY THE HELL DID I CHOOSE TO LOVE." Damian spat like venom, before his furious growls turned to.. empty broken whimpers.

Damian stayed there, a shivering, whimpering broken mess. Falling over to his side, by some miracle he managed to cry himself to sleep, his arms around his chest, wishing Jon could be there.. there with him.. like they promised each other.... instead he was greeted with emptiness.. the cold... bitter.. void.

Damian stirred lightly in his sleep, tears still dripping when a figure flew through an open window.

The figure's gaze moved from left to right as it remained otherwise motionless in the air, seemingly trying to find someone.

The figure flew over to Damian, staring down a the broken mess of a boy, letting out a pained sigh. He felt his boots touch the floor, walking over beside him, he slid his back against the floor and sat down, his knees to his chest.

"Hey... wake up, sleepy head" the figure said sweetly, gently adjusting the stray strands of hair on Damian's face, though their skin didn't touch.

Damian heard the voice it was... familiar...

"Mmn...." Damian groaned, slowly opening his eyes, his eyelids crusted with dry tears. His vision was blurred but he could just barely make out a silhouette of a boy sitting beside him. The moon light shines through a nearby window, making it impossible to clearly see the figure from Damian's point of view.. but that voice... the messy hair resting haphazardly on the boy's head... he could recognize that silhouette anywhere.

"J-" Damian coughed, "Jon...?" Damian asked, his vision hazy.

"H-hey there, Dami" Jon let out a nervous laugh, his features still unseen.

"Sorry I'm late for the- oof!" Jon was cut off by Damian who had tackled him to the ground, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face into Jon's chest humming in content at the contact, but... something was different.. Jon was.. taller?

"Uhhh, Damia-" His voice was deeper. Damian broke the hug, pulling back and sitting up.

Damian could finally see Jon clearly... 3 weeks without seeing the boy of his dreams... seeing him now? He had a scar running down his left cheek, he was more muscular, dressed in Kryptonian battle armor and.. he looked.. older. Much older.

"Kent, what.. what happened?" Damian, reaching for Jon's face and cupping his cheek. Jon froze, his breath hitching in his throat before he willed himself to relax, avoiding eye contact.

"Haha.. remember how I said I was a little late..?" Jon said, looking anywhere but Damian's eyes, a fake smile on his face. "Yeah.. by that I mean... really late.. like- 7 years late." Jon said, a pained laugh escaping his lips.

Damian's eyes went wide at the remark. "S-Seven Years?!" He asked, desperation in his voice.

"Yup!" Jon tried to sound peppy, his voice was.. deeper now. "But that doesn't matter, what matters is I'm here and we can-" Damian cut him off.

"Kent. Look at me." Damian demanded. And when Jon wouldn't oblige, he pushed the boy's face so they were facing each other. Jon kept his eyes closed.

"Open your eyes, for me Jon." Jon didn't want to, shaking his head violently.

"Please.." Damian pleaded, and Jon finally complied. He couldn't resist his voice 7 years ago, and he couldn't resist his voice now.

Jon slowly opened his eyes, pained emeralds meeting tortured and regretful sapphires.

His smile broke, he couldn't lie to  Damian's eyes. No amount of torture, training, beating or war could ever change that.

Jon began to cry, wrapping his boyfriend in tight embrace, careful not break him with his strength.

"D-damian! Y-you were right.." Jon cried out, tightening his grip as he dampened Damian's suit with tears.

Damian stayed silent. Hugging him back. Despite now being older, he was still the boy who broke the ice around his heart, the boy he fell in love with; and no power on earth or any other could ever change that.

"I never- never should have gone with my grandfather!" Jon's breath was heavy, his voice was pained.

"Shh.. shh.. Its ok, Jon. "Damian cooed, running a hand through the half kryptonian's hair, while the other returned the hug.

"I- I missed you..." Jon's voice hitched in his throat. "So.. so much..." Jon barely managed to get out between whimpers. "Damian...!" he cried, his eyes tightly closed.

"Its ok Jon.. I'm here now.." Damian said as he closed his eyes. "I'm here now..." he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes but he knew he had to be the strong one.. he had to be strong for Jon. So he held them back.

"Hey, Kent?" Damian asked, in as  sweet a voice as he could.

"Y-yeah?" Jon said, sniffling.

"You.. still up for that dance?" Damian asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Y-you mean you still want to-" Damian cut him off, nodding, a smile on his face. He had a thousand questions.. but those could wait. For now, he had to be here for Jon. The way Jon was there for him.. all those nights ago.

Standing up and dusting himself off. He offered a hand to Jon.

"O-okay.." Jon took his hand, and at that moment Jon felt it. The spark he shared with damian, the fire he missed so much.. after all this time.. it was like feeling it for the first time all over again.

"What song?" Damian asked.

"Y-you already know the one." Jon said, his voice still shakey wiping away tears.

Damian smiled and nodded, choosing the song 'All about us' by He is We. They chose the song because it would be perfect for their first dance, for them coming out, proud to be in love with each other... that was the original thought.. its definitely.. different now, but why put all that planning to waste?

Damian walked over to Jon, grasping the boy's hand as the started to play.

(play the song while you read)

"You ready?" Damian asked

"Ready as I'll ever be!" Jon answered, his voice pained yet.. happy.

The boys said, as the song started to play, their words matching that of what they said last time they danced.. all those nights ago.

The boys moved slowly to the sound of the song, their eyes locked on to each other. The ball room was dark... but the light in each other's eyes was all they needed..

Jon turned his hand slowly, a cue for Damian who obliged and twirled, leaning away, their hands never separating as he pulled back, landing perfectly in Jon's strong arms.

"You've been practicing..?" Damian asked, impressed.

"Yeah, I have-"

"Ouch!" Damian yelped, Jon stepping on his feet.

"S-sorry, Dami" Jon looked away, blushing.

Damian smirked, feeling the heat in his cheeks. "Every bit as cute as I remember, Kent." Damian said, planting a kiss on Jon's cheek.

Jon touched his cheek, feeling himself smile, truly smile.. for the first time in years.

"Let's keep going." Damian said, bluntly yet sweetly, Jon giggled and happily complied.

The boys danced the night away, despite all the time spent apart.. it was still them. Superboy and Robin, Damian and Jon. The unbreakable duo, the super sons. Bound first by friendship, now by love and nothing could ever change that. Nothing could ever break their special bond.

The bond of true love between two boys.

A/N: Alrigt, there we go. My submission for Day 3, oh btw this is linked with my submission for day 2. Also, this is how my other story "Just Don't Ask" was supposed to end before I changed my mind. So if you wanted to know the original ending for that, here it is. Check the story out if you're curious. Anyway, with that out of the way I hope you guys enjoyed! -Jason

[lygrim]

Feudal High Fantasy AU PART DEUX

parttwoparttwoparttwoparttwoparttwo!! :D!!!! 

Part One

She takes her time with her preparations. She speaks with the farmer who lost a flock to the sorcerer on the mountain; she talks to old Geral by the well. She wants badly to talk to Wayne; Wayne has the most experiences with the sorcerer’s work than anyone, but if she asks too many questions about it Wayne will start to ask what she’s doing, and then try to stop her.

Roxanne leaves in the dozy dew of the morning, her woolen cloak fluttering through the low lying fog with a basket over her arm. The only one to ask her whereabouts she's headed so early is the gatekeeper. She puts him off with a remark about not wanting to forage in the heat of the day before she  sashays down the path, swinging her basket as she goes. He does not see the sickle she carries in her basket. He does not see the sling and the bag of pebbles half-hidden in the folds of her skirt.

The fog stays with her as she traverses the valley between the peaks, clinging to her and deadening the world: the sunlight, even sound smothered in a blanket of grey. If it weren't for the occasional goatherd and shepherd, she would think she was the only soul in the world.

She reaches the treeline around noon. Curiously, the midday sun hasn’t dispersed the fog. The mist lessens as she climbs, though it refuses to be banished; clinging like the cobwebs of an ethereal spider between every tree and bush. Roxanne snorts at the idea of a giant spider scuttling through the forest, trailing mist from its spinneret, and then considers that if such a thing were to exist, this would be the place.

She, ah. She resolutely refuses to be put off by that thought. At all.

She stops to eat her lunch, perched on a boulder by a stream. She considers where she might find the wizard’s abode as she chews on the hard heel of yesterday’s bread topped with a generous slice of goat cheese and greasy sausage. Afterwards she washes it down with the sweet flesh of one of the last peaches of the season. She’s washing her hands and refilling her water skin from the stream when something grabs her.

She turns on her heel with a blood curdling screech and socks her assailant right in the nose. Hal flops over on the ground, bellowing that his nose is broken and holding his face.

Roxanne is a mixture of relieved, apologetic, and flatly annoyed because ‘What are you doing here, Hal? Stop squirming and let me see. Your nose isn’t broken, you’re fine.’

She hauls him to his feet. He explains (between sniffles) that he was with one of the goatherds and saw her crossing the valley and incidentally ‘hey rox couldn’t help but notice you’re here on this dangerous mountain all by yourself did you get lost looking for me? haha how about we go back to the village and maybe stop by a haystack on the way and uh just hang out? There? Alone? By a haystack?’

And Roxanne forces a laugh because ‘That’s real tempting Hal, but I’m kinda busy, you know. Foraging. Up here. Alone.’

And Hal, being Hal, offers to stay with her (read; chatter her ear off and keep her from exploring) to ‘keep her safe because like, it’s dangerous up here, y’know?’ and Roxanne is starting to think frantically of how to get Hal the Phenomenally Obtuse to go away and is considering hinting that the herbs she’s gathering are for very gross and possibly contagious lady problems and really, he should go, when Hal lets out the highest squeal she’s ever heard, unceremoniously pushes her right into the stream, and runs like a loose bowel.

Roxanne is screaming after him for dunking her and struggling out of the stream in her sodden skirts when she hears something huff behind her. She looks over her shoulder, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. Please don’t be a troll, she thinks.

It’s worse than a troll.

She lurches out of the stream, launching herself at her basket. She chucks it forcefully at its head before booking it down the mountain path, cursing as she goes.

“’Get yourself a man’, she said. ‘Oh Roxanne, you’re not whole without one’, she said. ‘You need a husband to protect you when the wolves are at your door’, she said. Spot on, mother! Excellent advice, mother! Thanks so much, mother! Get you a man that will push you into the brook towards the terrifying frog monster and run away! THIS IS WHY I NEVER MARRIED!” Roxanne vents to herself, employing the art of screaming in your very quietest whisper.

She trips over her skirts twice, skinning her knee and the palms of her hands.  She stops several frantic minutes later and leans on a tree, panting for breath to listen while she fumbles with her skirts. She didn’t see the monster following her, but she can hear something large moving in the undergrowth nearby. Her heart is pounding in her chest; she quickly folds the hem of her skirt up into her belt, showing an indecent amount of leg, and takes off again at a run. The minutes drag on at a torturous pace and she loses track of where she is and how long she’s been running. She’s been running downhill, but she’s sure she should have broken the treeline by now.

She can’t get out. She’s lost. And worst of all she hears it behind her still; she can’t shake it, but when she casts glances over her shoulder, she never sees it. Her legs and lungs are burning and she has a stitch in her side that burns like a brand. She can’t keep running.

She’ll have to turn and fight.

She threw her sickle away with her basket. She has her sling and her pebbles, but that’s not going to help her here, not when her pursuer is seven feet tall and has more bulk than the village blacksmith.

She was an idiot. She was such an idiot, and now she was going to die, alone, killed by a monster on this godforsaken mountain. All because she was an idealistic moron with more curiosity than sense.

But she’s not going to make it easy. She dodges behind a tree again, gasping and casting around for a weapon. All she finds is a half-rotten branch and some rocks. A branch snaps and she spins on her heel.

She catches a glimpse before she lets a fist-size rock fly at it’s grotesque head with a desperate scream. It’s the hulking figure from the stream, with its horrible, flat, noseless face, it’s wet brown eyes, its mottled green skin and long, sinewy limbs. Its appearance is belied by the sound it makes as it shields its head; a high, piping cry of startlement. A surprisingly human sound.

She advances on it with her stick, still screaming. The beast scrambles back from her (it’s eyes are white around the edges, like a spooked horse) and brings a webbed hand to its head, whispering sibilant syllables. As she moves to strike it, a cloud of silvery white mist bursts from the creature’s paw, enveloping her, clogging her senses, weighting her eyes. The earth seems to tilt and fade. Her last conscious thought is that it looked like the creature had been blowing her a kiss.

Part One

Part Three

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Liar - Request

Requested by anon:  Bruce Wayne/ Batman x reader. They have been dating for a few years. Reader gets kidnapped by the Joker and batman (aka Bruce your boyfriend ) saves you

Summary: Joker finds Batman’s identity so he attacks his soft spot: reader, who had no idea Bruce was Batman.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader/Batman x reader

Word count: 2,003

Warnings: None unless you squirm.

A/N: Bruce my love, I hope I wrote him properly.

Enjoy!

“Mr. Wayne,” Alfred greeted, “Mrs. (Y/L/N).”

“Good night, Alfred.” (Y/N) greeted back with a smile.

“You look astonishing.” He complimented. Bruce observed lovingly.

“Alfred, that’s my job. You’re stealing her from me.” Bruce joked, “You look astonishing, (Y/N).” he said, leaning closer to her.

“The guests are waiting.” Alfred informed.

Bruce nodded and thanked him. Then, he and (Y/N) walked graciously to the huge room that Bruce used for his charity events.

The golden chandelier was so big it worked to illuminate the whole place and one of the walls had been replaces with crystal that went from the ceiling to the floor, from one side to the other, like a massive window that had a clear view of the starry night mixed with Gotham city’s lights. A string quartet played soft music, perfect for the ambience, and the guests – who wore the finest gowns and tuxedos – enjoyed a fluent conversation with one another.

“Looks like they’re having fun.” Bruce whispered into (Y/N)’s ear.

She smiled at him, but before she could reply, the few reporters that were allowed into the event made their way towards them, interrupting the small talk.

“John Stamos, Daily Planet,” one of them spoke, “Mr. Wayne, you and Miss (Y/L/N) have been together for many years, will you give the next step soon?” The rest of the reporters agreed.

“We don’t want to rush anything,” (Y/N) hurried to answer, “Bruce and I are comfortable just how our relationship is right now.” Bruce gave her a proud nod.

The reporters bombarded them with a few more, unimportant, questions before letting them socialize with their guests. (Y/N) and Bruce were Gotham’s power-couple, and so everyone loved them. She was the perfect balance for him.

As the night went by, Bruce couldn’t help but to feel more and more nervous. It was like a gut-feeling, one that didn’t bring good news. So he checked every entrance, every window, every corner; the guards were in place, no one would get in without him knowing.

“Bruce, is everything all right?” She asked, noticing Bruce’s strange behaviour.

“Yes, just… Security check-up.” He replied nonchalantly, “Batman still can’t capture the Joker so… I want to make sure he doesn’t make an appearance.”

(Y/N) smiled tenderly at him and nodded, right before she dragged him back to the party.

Everything was fine, everything was calm. Not a single guard had left their spot, and no one had seen or heard anything strange. But when the lights went off, they all knew there had been some kind of mistake; a black hole in the security.

Bruce instantly stood in front of (Y/N) as a protection. But little did he know, the villain was right behind him from the beginning, and so he could kidnap the girl without Bruce truly noticing until it was too late.

When the lights turned back on, there was no one hurt. Not a single glass had been broken, not a single guard had been killed, the only thing out of place wasn’t an it but a she; (Y/N) had disappeared.

Bruce picked up the typical Joker card from the floor, right where (Y/N) had been standing minutes before. It had red paint splashed over it for a rather dramatic effect, but even so, this one was different. Bruce turned it around to find a message that read:

“I bet she doesn’t know, Batsy.”

Bruce almost fainted. The thought of Joker kidnapping (Y/N), maybe even torturing her, just because he had tried to keep her safe by not telling her about his double life was far too frightening. He had to save her.

-

“Aren’t you pretty?” Joker cackled, leaning close to her. He smelled like gun-powder, sweat and clown paint.

“Please let me go.” She begged. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision.

“I can’t, you’re part of the plan.” He said in a high-pitched voice.

“What plan?” She inquired.

“Your little boyfriend has been hiding things from you.” Joker replied mysteriously.

“What things?” Joker gave her a mischievous grin but didn’t answer. Instead he left the room, giving her time to analyse her surroundings.

It looked like some kind of abandoned factory. The grey walls were covered in dust, spider webs and humidity stains. The metal parts had oxide all over, and the floor was shattered, allowing a few plants to grow. The one light bulb in there had been settled apart and it was connected to a cable that went through the wooden door Joker had used to leave.

Not a single sound but a tingling laughter could be heard. (Y/N) had no idea where she was, but she was confident Bruce would do everything to save her… That if he wasn’t lying about her love too.

She had no idea why, but she felt like Joker was telling her the truth.

Bruce was a mysterious man. He would disappear in the middle of the night and go back home a few hours later, sometimes with bruises or injuries. (Y/N) had figured he had joined a fight club, or that that was the only time he had free of his billionaire life to train and be a regular, bad-ass man. But then again, he never really talked about it with (Y/N).

There were things he would only talk about in front of the press, and some other he would keep from them. Most of those things were lies, excuses, used to hide his real motives or the real problems. (Y/N) had learned to lie too; it was part of being a public figure.

Like all those times people asked them if they would ever get married. (Y/N) would lie; claiming that she was happy with their relationship just like it was, when in reality she wondered those same things too. Bruce had never talked openly about their relationship, not even to her, so she hadn’t got a single clue of what his next step would be – if there was a next step to be given.

-

(Y/N) didn’t know how much time had gone by. She was hungry, she was thirsty and she needed a shower, but she didn’t feel like dying anytime soon, so she figured she had been there for a day or two.

Maybe it was the hunger, or Joker’s words still resonating on her head, but (Y/N) started to wonder if Bruce had actually noticed her disappearance. If he was trying his best, negotiating with every police officer and secretive squad, or even contacting Batman to find her fast; or if he had given her for dead and moved on.

She had cried a little too much for hours. She felt the dry tears over her cheeks, giving her a carton-like sensation, as if her skin was drier than usual. Not only her cheeks, but her lips as well. They were dry and bleeding; small bits of dead skin making it painful for her to even try to lick them. She needed to be rescued.

“Looks like your little boyfriend forgot about you.” Joker chanted as he entered the room.

“Why do you care so much?” (Y/N) inquired hastily.

“I find a great interest in him and his secrets.” He explained, kneeling in front of her. She noticed two bottles of water on his hands. “You want this?”

She nodded effusively, unable to control the crave that her eyes showed. Joker shook the bottles right in front of her eyes, teasing her, and then he opened one and started drinking from it, spilling some over himself on purpose. (Y/N) felt as if she could smell the water, and her whole body squirmed at the thought of having water so close from her and being unable to drink it. She needed it.

“I got you a special bottle.” He said after the first bottle was over. “It has a special gift there for you.”

“What is it?” She asked with a tremble.

“Poison.” He stated, “Not enough to kill you with a sip… But if you drink the whole bottle…” He clicked his tongue.

“Why?”

“The thirstier you are, the more you drink.” He explained as if he were talking to a child, “The longer Batsy takes to save you, the thirstier you get.”

“Please, don’t do this.” She begged, “Bruce won’t come… I’m not as important as you think.”

“I beg to differ, puppet.” Joker beamed, “You are more important to him than you think… You are the only one I can use to hurt him as deeply as I want to.”

-

(Y/N) was unconscious. She had drunk more water than she should, and although she wasn’t dead, she was weak, dying slowly. However, when a leather hand cupped her cheek, she opened her eyes and in spite of the blurry vision she knew that Batman had gotten there to save her.

“You’ll be fine.” He promised with his usual altered-voice.

“Batsy!” Joker cheered from a dark corner of the room, “Took you long enough.”

“Let her go, she’s got nothing to do with this.” A wicked laughter got ripped from the clown’s insides, making (Y/N) shiver in terror.

“She’s got everything to do with this, Bruce.” Joker laughed once more. (Y/N) gasped at his words and looked at Batman, who gave her an apologizing smirk that she could recognize even behind the mask. “Now, I can’t let you capture me.”

“Why did you do this?” Batman/Bruce inquired angrily.

“Nobody would date a liar… Especially not her.” Joker hissed and took out a controller from his pocket. “Five minutes or the chair she’s in will explode in millions of pieces.”

“You already told her the truth, just let her go.” Batman begged.

“Nope… I think it would be a lot more painful for you to know that your girlfriend exploded right after realizing you’re a li-aaaaar.” He clicked the one button on the controller and waved good-bye childishly before disappearing into the dark.

Batman kneeled in front of (Y/N) and started un-tying her feet. Joker had managed to do a resistant, hard to untie, knot. He was desperate; he needed to get her out.

(Y/N), on the other hand, couldn’t help but to cry. Not only had she found out an explanation to all of her doubts in less than a minute, but she had also realized she could die right then.

“I’ll get you out of here.” Batman promised once more. He walked to her back and untied her wrists.

He could hear the detonator about to blow off, so he didn’t wait for her to stand up but rather carried her bridal-style out of the room. (Y/N) fainted in his arms, so the trip outside or even the place itself remained as a mystery to her.

-

“Open your eyes, please.” Bruce begged in a whisper. She was lying in a bed, a comfortable one, and she could feel Bruce’s warm hands squeezing hers.

She opened her eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the sudden light. She was at the Wayne Mansion, in Bruce’s bed. However, she felt a sting on her arm; she looked down at it, she was connected to an infusion bottle that was placed right by the side.

“Bruce.” She mumbled. Her voice was raspy, her throat was sore.

“I’m here, I’m here.” He whispered, caressing her forehead. “You’re save now.”

“I…” She tried to clear her throat but it only made it worse, “I need to know…”

“Later, when you recover.” Bruce begged.

“Now.” She insisted.

Bruce sighed heavily and looked down in embarrassment. He owed her the truth, her life had been risked because of him; the truth was the least thing he could do. No matter how much time he had lied to her, wanting to keep her away from the danger, it hadn’t worked. Joker knew his identity and he had attacked her directly, he had exposed Bruce.

“Bruce, please.” She begged again. Her eyes were watery and sad. Bruce couldn’t say no to her, not after all she went through.

“I’m Batman.”

*Requests are ALWAYS open.*

Masterlist

[dylan-hague]

Chapter 12

August 5th, 2017. 1:34 PM.

It was a good day in Titans Tower.

For the first time in weeks, everything seemed normal. Well, as normal as life for the Teen Titans could get, anyways. And it showed in how the Titans interacted with one another; combat practice had been the smoothest it's been since Garfield lost his arm. That was something that put Damian's mind in particular at ease; the weight of what he'd done was still there, but it was comforting to know that everyone was still woven together strong despite all that had happened. For as proud of his heritage as he was, Damian's heart did not rejoice in the fact that he came from, essentially, a broken home. His relationship with his mother would never be what it should have been. But he was never going to let that discourage him. He was blessed with a loving father, many brothers and sisters whom he knew he could rely on, and the love and approval of his grandfather-- not Ra's al Ghul, but Alfred. And now he had another family, one made up largely of the last people he'd expected; two aliens, a street tough, a vagabond, an outcast, and a witch. It made him wonder what his mother would think if she could see him now...

But now wasn't the time for what-ifs. Damian sat on the couch in the living room of Titans Tower, with the sound of his friends' laughter filling the air around him. This was a day of celebration; today was all about Tara. Today the Titans celebrated Tara's well-deserved and regained freedom. Holding on for two years of captivity and torture the way she did was something no one should ever be forced to endure. It was inhuman... not just inhumane, but actually inhuman. No one should have had to do what Tara had done... but she did it. She survived everything, and came out the other end stronger, with a new family to hold her up. Damian could relate to that part, but he would always admire her fortitude. Tara carried a great burden on her shoulders, more than she ever should have to, but her light could still never be hidden when she was near.

"Damiaaaaaan~!" a voice rang out from behind him. Oh boy...

Before he could object, Damian was hoisted up into the air by a pair of arms wrapped around his chest, as Jon lifted him up and hugged him tightly.

"Jon, please put me d--" Damian strained to get the words out as Jon squeezed harder. "AaaughohIcan'tbreathe..."

"Not until you give a toast!" Jon teased as he shook Robin around gently. "C'mon, you give the best toasts!"

Damian nodded quickly as he kicked his legs in frustration, his face turning blue as he struggled for air. Jon finally dropped him, and he took in a loud gasp of air, begging his knees not to give way.

"Hahh... hahh... all you... had to do..." Damian sputtered between gasps. "Was... ask... Jon... hoooo..."

Damian picked himself back up and shook the wooziness out of his head as Jon brought him a glass of iced water. He took it with both hands, draining the whole glass in a matter of seconds, before handing it back to Jon as if asking for another.

"D... dude." A cheeky grin spread across Jon's face. "That was supposed to be for your toast."

Damian glared at Jon, who just shook his head and fetched him another glass.

"Everyone," Damian called out, attracting the attention of his fellow Titans. "Listen up for a minute, I'd like to say a few words."

"Oh boy," Tara said grinning, one arm around Garfield and the other around Jaime, "are you about to show us your party-Bruce impression?" Even Damian had to chuckle at that; anyone who knew his father was the Batman had a "party-Bruce" voice, just because of how drastic the difference was in Bruce's demeanor at some high-life gala and his demeanor once he put on the cowl.

"Sorry Tara, maybe next time." Damian winked at his teammate. "This time I have to be a little more genuine."

"Today we take a moment to give thanks," the Boy Wonder began. "The past few weeks have brought about some... to put it gently, disconcerting revelations. But for all the personal investment put into this assignment, we pulled it off. Everyone here played a part in righting all the wrong we were up against... but none of us had more to lose than you, Tara. You were the one who brought us the victory, after everything that happened. You stood strong, and you've more than earned your place among the Titans. You'll always have a home here. And know this..."

Damian paused to collect his thoughts, looking over to Tara and raising his glass.

"You'll always be free."

Tara smiled back at him and winked. "To freedom."

"To freedom," Garfield said, leaning in and pressing his lips to Tara's cheek.

"To freedom," Jon said, raising his glass high.

"To freedom," Kori said, putting her hand on Jon's shoulder.

"To freedom," Jaime said, giving Damian a quick nod.

"To freedom," Raven said, walking over and putting a hand on Damian's back.

For that one moment, everything seemed perfect.

Then the elevator door opened, and out stepped the Batman.

Everyone froze as they watched the dark figure, a quiet rage behind his eyes, walk into the room.

"If you'll all excuse me..." the Dark Knight growled as he pulled his mask off, revealing his tired blue eyes and his furrowed brow. "I need to speak to my son. Alone."

Slowly, each of the Titans, one at a time, makes their way out of the room, until the only ones still there were Damian and Bruce. The elder superhero gestured to the couch, a silent order for his son to sit. He did.

There was a moment of palpable silence between them.

"Damian, I thought we were done keeping secrets from one another." Bruce's gaze was cold, unnerving.

"You and I both know you would have overreacted, Father," Damian made his point as bluntly as he could. He wasn't in the mood for his father's unbearable routine; today was supposed to be about something bigger. "I was looking out for my friends."

"You're in no position to decide what an overreaction is," his father shot back as quickly as Damian had. "And you don't know that."

"Oh, don't even," Damian barked, his voice casting a sharp reverberation around the room. "You would have thrown Tara into some holding cell in the Watchtower, treated her like a criminal. She's NOT a criminal, she was a victim."

"Mind your tone!" Bruce's voice rumbled from his chest as he shouted, in a way that would shake most to their core. Damian, however, would have none of it, as he rose to his feet.

"No! You listen to me!" Damian shouted right back into Bruce's face. "You're so bent on the idea that I still need your help, it's become impossible in your mind that I can accomplish anything without you. But look at me, Father! Look at what I've built here! You're so critical of everything I've done, you refuse to believe that anything I've done without you has ever been any sort of good. But come down from your blasted pedestal, Father, and open your eyes. Because no matter how foreign the concept might be to you, you are WRONG."

Damian stood brazenly before his father, fists clenched tightly as his chest rose and fell, the only sound in the air being that of his drastic, angry breaths. Bruce just sat there in silence on the couch, his eyes widened ever so slightly at this show of defiance from his son. Slowly, the Dark Knight let out a sigh, bringing his hands together and leaning forward, his gloved fingers interlocking in front of his face which had shifted into a more pensive expression. He stayed silent for a brief moment, closing his eyes as he took in two long, slow breaths.

"Son... you're right," Bruce said, his voice dropped from a powerful boom to a low, almost groan-like half-whisper that swirled with emotion. "You've accomplished so much since you left home."

After a brief hesitation, Damian's fists unclenched, his hand slowly uncurling to an open shape as his shoulders dropped, his arms relaxing as he shifted his feet to a less defensive position.

"But don't think I've been completely blind to all that you've done," Bruce continued. "I've been wrestling with this for months now. I've been so... afraid of seeing you fail, I've been denying the reality of you growing up. You may only be fourteen now, but you've already shown maturity that some don't exhibit until they're much older men. As your mentor, I couldn't be more proud of you. But as your father..." Bruce lowered his head, resting his forehead on his hands. "... as your father, it's hard to admit it. But whether it hurts or not... it's time."

Damian tilted his head forward just barely, unsure of the implications his father was making. "W... what are you..."

Bruce looked up at his son, his visage grim. "It's time for you to give it back."

Damian paused. "... what?"

"Your uniform," Bruce said flatly. "Give me back your uniform."

Damian's heart dropped into his stomach.

"... are you serious...?" The young Wayne's voice quaked, this time with a mixture of shock and rage. His fists clenched again as his rage won over. "Are you serious??"

"Yes, I'm serious." Bruce unfolded his hands, looking into his son's eyes. "Your time being Robin is over."

"How dare you!!" Damian exploded with anger, his voice ringing through the entire Tower floor. "I have been nothing but loyal to you! I have sacrificed everything to be a part of this team! I gave up my heritage for you! I gave up my people for you! I gave up my mother for you!!"

Bruce stood up, his presence bearing down on his son. "Let. Me. Finish."

Damian's eyes widened as he looked up into his father's eyes, and his voice withdrew into his chest. In the back of his mind, Damian realized that his father was not quite so much taller than him as he remembered.

A rough stream of air came out from Bruce's nostrils. "Your time being Robin is over... now it's time for you to take up a new title."

Damian took a step back, his pounding heart slowly beginning to regulate as he processed the information he was taking in.

"I know you've given up so much of your world to become a part of mine, son." Bruce's expression softened, his gaze giving off a feeling of understanding and gratitude. "That's why this is so important. You can't be Boy Wonder anymore... because you're not a boy anymore. You're headstrong, quick to anger, and you have so much to learn... but there's really nothing left for me to teach you. As hard as it is for me to admit it... you're a man now, Damian. You're a man."

The palpable silence refilled the air around them. After a moment, Bruce held up his hand. After another moment, with a single tear falling from his eye, Damian clasped it. His father was right; Damian wasn't a student anymore. Not a sidekick. He was his own man. His own hero.

"C'mon," Bruce said, "we need to take this down to the workshop. We have work to do."

August 6th, 2017. 10:34 PM.

"Are they seriously still in there?"

"Yes Tara, they're still working."

"But it's been three days! How have they not come out once yet??"

"Well, this is the Batman we're dealing with. Nobody really knows how he operates besides him and all the old Robins."

"But I mean, come on. When do they eat? When do they sleep? When do they pee!?"

"Maybe they have some kinda waste filter built into their suit. They just, like, go whenever, and the suit filters it into--"

"Gar, listen to yourself. Estúpido, 'mano."

"... yeah, okay. But I mean, there's gotta be some explanation..."

"Hey, Jon just texted me, he wants us to FaceTime him. He's flying over the fair back in Kansas with his parents, and the fireworks are about to start."

Bruce and Damian couldn't help but chuckle as they heard all the other Titans on the other side of the door. When the two of them got to work the way they did together, it was easy to forget how unreal their work ethic was in the eyes of others, even other heroes. Truth be told, the only one who worked harder than them was Tim; when he got some goal in his head, he would often keep working at it until he literally passed out. Then once he came to, he would get right back at it. His dedication was admirable, but he really needed to take better care of himself. But that was an issue for another time; it was finally done. Damian was suited up, and it was time to present himself to his friends. He and his father shook hands, exchanging a look that spoke pride and gratitude for one another, and finally opened the door to the Titans' workshop. As they stepped out, Damian's teammates stood round, and each of them stopped to marvel at the most recent of Bruce and Damian Wayne's creations.

Damian stood before them, garbed in a suit that appeared an even darker black than his father's. On his gauntlets were hand guards in the shape of skulls, and his forearms appeared to be "wrapped" in a grey material that resembled burial wraps, the ends of which hung loosely from his arms. His boots were black, with the exception of grey shin guards, and his utility belt was a dark grey with red accents, and a circular buckle. His mask, while the same style as his Robin mask, was now a blood-red color, and his cape was black with a grey inner layer, now tattered at the ends as if worn down from years, if not decades, of use. Deceptive and clever, everyone knew, as it was likely more durable than most protective material. Other than that, the suit was completely black save for one mark: a pair of bright red slash marks stretched across his chest, which intersected over his heart.

"Whoa..." Garfield's mouth was agape as he admired his friend's new uniform. "That is so sick, D..."

"Thank you, Logan," Damian said with a subtle half-smile. "Father was right. It's time I established my own legacy."

Tara scooted up towards Damian and pointed her tablet at him. Jon was on the screen, his face illuminated by the lights of the fair below him, and his cape billowed behind him, the sound of wind quietly blowing in the background.

"Hey, look who finally came back to the light of day!" He teased, a wide grin across his face. He threw his eyebrows up as he took in the new appearance of his teammates. "Oooooh, nice new digs, Robin!"

"Thank you Jonathan, but I'm afraid Robin is gone." Damian couldn't help but raise his head high as the fireworks began to crackle behind his friend, throwing bright flashes of all different colors across his face. "As of today, you can call me X... Red X."

[phogenson]

The Dark Knight Review: Epilogue

This review shouldn’t need to be written for another Nolan movie, but there is the recent release of The Dark Knight Rises to be considered. The new movie isn’t so surprising considering Nolan’s previous work. In fact with only a few minor things the themes and approaches I expected to be most prevalent were. The Dark Knight Rises is not a particularly good movie, in fact The Dark Knight is probably the better film in the Nolan trilogy, but rather than being quick to only deride this film I will start with some positives.

First, Catwoman is a really enjoyable addition to Nolan’s movies. In fact she is very nearly a break from Nolan’s usual characters and particularly his usual women characters. The simple fact of the matter is that Catwoman is just more fun. Anne Hathaway isn’t doing much, she’s mostly easy on the eyes, but I can appreciate the joy and vigor of her character. It’s so refreshing to have a character who is different in the pleasure she gets from what she’s doing put next to all these stone-faced weirdos. Again, watching Anne Hathaway be that character could literally be a national pass time--she has thigh-high boots with 6 inch heels and a tight suit.

The only other characters in Nolan’s previous movies that actually have a vague notion of pleasure in what they do are always the most refreshing. This was the case with Maroni in The Dark Knight. Every time Eric Roberts was on screen it was obvious how content and pleasing the experience of being a mobster was to the character and to the actor. His flippant lines like “I thought the DA just played golf with the mayor” break up what is the monotony of that movie’s character interactions. Nolan doesn’t seem to take pleasure in his characters, neither do his characters seem to take pleasure in their lives. The Prestige, Memento, Inception, The Dark Knight they’re all about all these tortured souls and his characters get to the point of be really unrelenting and perverse. I really don’t care for such a trying gauntlet of character all the time, and it really shows Nolan’s limitations as a writer/director.

The second most positive thing about The Dark Knight Rises, and probably also the most unexpected, was having Bane as a physical equal to Batman. Bane is this unknown villain, and there aren’t any expectations for him rather shoes to fill. He really delivered, though, in only one department and that was as this physical equal to Batman. Basically Batman never has a fair fight, in terms of ass-kicking units Batman is unmatched. Until Bane shows up. I fully expected Bane to break Batman’s back, but having them fight was vastly more interesting because they were some obviously well matched. Nolan does deserve credit in this area, the ball could have been dropped and the fights not have been as hard hitting. I’d like to stress at this point that Bane as Batman’s physical equal is basically the extent of my appreciation for the character.

One final positive note I have for this movie was the revivalist angle of the first hour. I was amazed by how old fashioned some of the scenes seemed until Batman made his return to crime fighting and the movie took a turn for the overwrought and altogether worse. Some of the wit and antics around Catwoman, having Wayne manor with a more reclusive billionaire-genius, and most importantly an underground lair with worthless minions banging rocks together all contributed to an enjoyable viewing experience. I was ready for a black turtleneck that proclaimed "HENCHMAN" and I shouldn't have been so optimistic.

Bane’s minions and subterranean lair were far and away the most satisfying and illustrative revivalist qualities. For a little while The Dark Knight rises felt like an unlikely throw back to some of the more kitschy approaches of earlier iterations. Gordon goes down a sewer and stumbles upon a clandestine army of mindless workers banging rocks together and living in fear of their mysterious leader. It called to mind the classics such as Dr. No. It seemed in that moment with nameless, faceless, fearful technicians running about that if Nolan had gone with the Penguin instead of Bane he wouldn’t have shortchanged his audience on a submarine and avian mind-control plot. I really wanted to see just how far Nolan would go with that approach. Unfortunately not far enough.

It’s difficult to tell in The Dark Knight Rises if Nolan was trying to be a little less serious and relish in an amount of absurdity and extravagance or if he really just overstepped the line and made this movie way to big. How much more Nolan had to do with the characters and in what degree is a bit of a mystery. The fact of the matter is that this movie is so epic, ridiculous in every way to the film’s detriment that either Nolan was being cavalier with caution and recognizes that this movie isn’t as serious as his other works try to be, or he thought that this was indeed a fitting end to what I think is a bit of a baffling phenomenon of a trilogy.

Here’s the thing, Batman is the savior of Gotham--I know that--but in this movie he actually has to save Gotham. Batman has to save 12 million people from a bomb and a madman. And he has to climb out of a bottomless pit in Asia with a broken back to do it. And the problems are so obvious I don’t think it comes down to a matter of the literal logic, the philosophical underpinnings of the characters that are making this a lesser film.

Bane proclaims that he is returning Gotham to the people by holding the entire city hostage and setting up a guerrilla police state. I think that the League of Shadows angle is more legitimate and interesting than the nihilism that was so dominant in The Dark Knight, but Bane’s plan seems pretty counter intuitive to his allegiance and ideology. His investment and maintenance of the populist anarchy is a little comical. Consider, after fifty days of looting and riots in a people’s Gotham if 6,000,001 of Gotham’s 12 million hostages filed a petition with Jonathan Crane (Cillian Murphy) saying that they wanted to rebuild one of the bridges or even contact the US army in favor. Bane would likely have no choice but to put his bomb away.

But what is more painful to watch here is the absurdity of the scale--millions of lives at stake, a literal war on the streets, a nuclear bomb--compared to the minimalism of the response. The army is on the bridge and they don’t move in. Batman is Gotham’s only hope; thematically sound but outrageous on this scale. All of Gotham’s police are trapped underground for 80 days, and although people on the outside are dropping notes down drains to talk to them, they can’t get them out. Blake’s plan to evacuate Gotham--a handful of savvy orphans spread the word block by block. I was laughing at all the wrong things.

The rest of the movie’s plotting is altogether topical. This movie will do well because it speaks to people now. Occupation uprisings, economic terrorism, pre and post “war time” drivel--Nolan turns to topical filmmaking once again not realizing the inconsistency with the previous film. The Dark Knight I’ve said was a Post-9/11 work, I knew that The Dark Knight Rises would be very Post-Economic-Crisis. We’ve been here before and movies always reflect the time they were made. The Dark Knight Rises is far from the first of this movement, but I think that Bane’s posturing and preaching on the subject will ring less true than the timely but clear writing of Margin Call, a movie that is literally about the financial crisis as it happened.

It is so irritating that Nolan sweeps people up on an all-time bandwagon with such timely themes. I would urge him to reflect more on the ultimate rather than proximate in his movies but he has a clear obsession with what is happening around him that has little to do with uncovering something more about people or the world in a more than topical way--why we still read The Grapes of Wrath after the depression. Moreover I think I’d urge audiences to really understand Nolan’s movies and not read into them the ultimate notions that aren’t present. This iteration of “Gotham’s reckoning” will be less potent the next time something bad happens on a national scale.

I’d like to make one final point on the subject of The Dark Knight Rises. On the condition of many of the most popular movies these days in general, really. And though I’d like to distinguish my final point from the safe-Hollywood-crap-machine argument I’m often confronted with, the fact is people have seen everything about The Dark Knight Rises before, it’s been sold to the populace before, by the same people for the same price. Unlike The Godfather which was a financial, critical, and awarded success when it came out--a truly visionary work--the practice in movies right now doesn’t seem to reward real vision so much.

Warner Brothers has reaped the bounty of Harry Potter for the past ten years. A usually good and always successful franchise. Unfortunately it was ultimately limited by the number of books there were. It could really only be stretched the one extra movie and one extra dimension when all was said and done. Warner Brothers milked it for every penny, rolling out a campaign based on urgency to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 when in withDVDs and streaming there is no such thing as real urgency to see a movie. Needless to say, it worked for them. The only other money maker Warner Brothers had besides Harry Potter was the Nolan Batman movies. And they have thus bought their audience through a remarkably similar campaign. Like the plutocrats in The Dark Knight Rises, Warner Brothers is trying to make bankroll to cover their ass until the next big thing comes along.