#and my home screen is the batsignal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years ago

Text

Gender? In THIS Economy?

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Duke is questioning stuff and goes to Tim for advice. (feat. trans!Tim and nonbinary!Duke)

“Here you go. One Batburger with extra pickles, extra onions, and extra extra mayonnaise.” Duke drops the paper takeout bag unceremoniously into Tim’s lap. “Your taste buds need a tune-up, bro.”

Tim unwraps his burger and takes a bite. Batburger may be questionable when it comes to copyright laws, but damn if they don’t pile on the condiments better than any fast food restaurant in Gotham. “Sounds to me like you simply haven’t reached the sky-scraping level of enlightenment that I have, grasshopper.”

“Enlightenment would have been going to Red Robin and using your uniform to get a discount,” Duke says. He sits beside Tim on the rooftop’s edge, their legs dangling side by side a hundred feet above Gotham’s plunging gray streets. He digs into his own burger and makes a face. “Enlightenment would also be getting the Robin Nuggets next time. This tastes like dried leather.”

“I like it,” Tim says with a shrug. “It has personality.”

“So does raw sewage, but you don’t see me eating that.”

Tim concedes the point. His communicator buzzes in his belt. He checks the screen and discovers an alert from Cass composed entirely of clown emojis and red harlequin diamonds.

Duke notices. “Should we get that?”

Tim pockets the communicator. “Nah, Spoiler’s got it. We have time to relax.” And he’s not about to pass up quality time with the one little brother who doesn’t hate him. It’s hard enough as it is for Tim and Duke to find the time, what with them being on opposite sleeping schedules and work snatching their attention away with grabby, toddler-sized hands.

“Don’t get a lot of that during the day shift,” Duke says. “Every time an alarm goes off, it’s my business.”

Tim knocks him in the side with his elbow. “That’s what you get for turning to the light side instead of kicking it in the shadows with us. More employees to go around.” He sips his soda for a moment. “Why did you come out tonight, anyway? I thought you stayed in on weeknights.”

“Right. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Duke says it carefully, like he’s testing the waters. “I need advice.”

Tim has to admit that his chest puffs out a little at that. It’s not often people come to him for advice when Dick and Barbara are right there, all full of adult wisdom that Tim is too pitifully shrimpy to possess. “What’s up?”

“It’s kind of...personal.”

“Yes, Bruce does have special powder for suit-chafing. It’s in the cabinet under the first-aid supplies.”

“It’s not that,” Duke says, though he snorts in half-hearted laughter. He looks down at his hands like he’s dreading the words lodged in his throat. “What was it like, realizing you were a dude?”

One of Tim’s eyebrows shoots up. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s an invasive question.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You just caught me off guard, is all.” It’s not like this is the first time someone has asked. Tim used to be uncomfortable talking about it, but he’s grown up since then. Talking about his trans journey is as normal as talking about what he did yesterday. He eats a fry. “What do you want to know?”

Duke searches Tim’s face for a sign that he’s lying, that he should back off. When he doesn’t find one, he asks, “How old were you when you figured it out?”

Tim thinks back. “Nine, I think? But even before that, it’s not like I ever really felt like a girl. I knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t know what. When I first heard about what being transgender meant, everything I’d been feeling until then clicked into place.”

“What was it like?” Duke asks, “growing up the way you did? Presenting as a girl when you knew you weren’t?”

Tim shrugs. “I don’t know. It was life at the time. I dealt with it.”

“Was it hard? Pretending to be something you weren’t?”

Tim doesn’t know what answer Duke is looking for, or why he’s so interested, but he won’t ask. “My parents always had this idea of me being the perfect daughter, all obedient and graceful and crap. I’m pretty sure their hope was to eventually marry me off to the highest bidder so they could reap the business benefits.”

“That sounds awful.”

Tim shrugs again. “I didn’t start feeling any different than I should have until around six or seven. I was always a tomboy. I liked doing boy stuff and playing sports, but my parents thought it was a phase I would grow out of. They’d make me wear dresses and go to fancy parties with them, all the while I just wanted to claw my skin off and go home.”

He remembers the nights he would lie awake in bed, imagining what it must be like to have been born someone else. Anyone else. To grow up as a little boy who was allowed to run around, to get dirty, to be himself instead of following some arbitrary guidelines someone else drew up the day he was born. He imagined what it would feel like to answer to a different name than the one he’d been given, which grated on his ears the longer time went on, like an itchy sweater he couldn’t shed. It was hell.

He gives Duke a sly grin. “But the upside of having absent parents is that there aren’t as many people watching you. No one cared if I went to school in the boy’s uniform instead of the girl’s. No one was there to stop me from cutting my hair short the way I wanted it.”

Duke's eyes widen. “You cut your own hair?”

“It went exactly the way you’re thinking. I had to go to the barber the next day and have them fix it because it was so uneven. But by the end of the day, it was the way I always imagined it. I was finally starting to look like the person I wanted to be.”

Duke stares intently at the remains of his burger as if the universe’s answers to an unspoken question were written in sesame seeds. “Did it get better after that? Did you feel...at peace?”

“‘Course not. The world wasn’t magically fixed just because I took a step in the right direction. My problems didn’t go away.” When he says that, Duke looks almost...disappointed? “But,” Tim adds, “it was better than it was before. I still had to act for my parents and the rest of the world, but I didn’t have to hide from myself anymore.”

“How did your parents react when they found out?”

Tim grimaces. “They...didn’t take it well.” He can still hear his father’s voice in his memories, bringing up therapy and camps and whatever places he could think of that would “fix” his little girl.

“But, after a while,” Tim continues, “it was clear that I wasn’t going to change my mind anytime soon. I guess they figured it would be easier to go along with it than fight me every step of the way. They still didn’t like it, but they tolerated it.”

Duke is quiet.

“Why do you ask?” Tim prods.

Duke’s expression doesn’t give anything away. It’s nights like this when Tim can see how perfectly Duke fits into this mental institution they call a family. For all that Duke thrives in the light, he keeps his cards just as close to his chest as the rest of them. He gives Tim a half-smile. “Just wondering.”

“Okay.”

They fall into weighted silence, the scales tipping on either side of their post, but never settling. Tim waits. He finishes his burger and busies himself with reorganizing the pouches in his belt, giving Duke the privacy to think.

“I don’t know,” Duke starts after several minutes, “if I’m a boy.” He looks at Tim. “I think I might be something else.”

“Okay,” Tim says calmly. “What do you feel like?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve always felt different, y’know? When I was a kid, it was because I was smarter than everyone in my class. And it was fine, because I knew what it was and how it worked and why it was a good thing, being the smart one. It made sense. Time went on, the other kids started catching up, but that mismatched feeling never went away. I never felt right in my skin.”

Duke’s face rises to the dark clouds, the Batsignal shining from the top of the police station like a holy beacon. “Then I met Batman. My powers started to come in and everything clicked into place, all at once. That was why I never felt like I fit in with everyone else, because I was different. I had powers. That must have been it.”

“But it wasn’t,” Tim guesses.

Duke shakes his head. “I thought it would be. I mean, what else could it have been, you know? It should have explained why I never felt at home in my identity. But time goes on, I learn how to use my powers, and it fixes some of it, but not everything. There’s still part of me that looks in the mirror and sees something off. Some detail out of place.”

“Do you feel like a girl?” Tim ventures to ask.

Duke folds over the corner of his straw wrapper again and again in tiny triangles. “Nah, I doubt it. I like some feminine things, but I don’t think I’m a girl. Or a guy. I think...I might be nonbinary?”

Tim does his best to channel Bruce’s “supportive dad” energy and smiles. “Okay. What pronouns do you want to use?”

“They/them, maybe? For a while?”

“Duly noted.” He puts a hand on Duke’s shoulder. “I really do appreciate you telling me.”

Duke rubs the back of their neck, their cheeks flushing. “It feels good to say out loud. Not just in my head.”

“Do you think you’re going to tell anyone else? You don’t have to if you’re not ready, but our whole family will support you.”

“Yeah.” Duke picks at their nails, nodding absently. “I know they will. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

Duke takes a deep breath in, and Tim is reminded of a balloon close to bursting. “My parents aren’t dead. I’m going to get them back. And when I do...what are they going to think when they wake up after half a decade and find out that their son isn’t their son anymore? What if they don’t like the person they see?”

Tim can’t say that he hadn’t swum with the same thoughts years ago, back when the person who is Tim Drake was still on the drawing board. But there’s a difference between his situation and Duke’s. “Your parents love you, Duke. They’re not going to stop loving you just because you’ve grown up since they last saw you.”

“What if it’s too much? The superpowers and the crime-fighting and the new gender...it’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, sure,” Tim says. “It might take some time for them to get used to it, but this is who you are. They’re going to love it just as much as they love the rest of you.”

Duke smiles, and if their eyes are a little misty, Tim pretends not to notice.

“Besides,” he says. “If I were you, I’d just lead with the superpowers thing. Anything after that sounds perfectly acceptable.”

120 notes · View notes

theabominableblogger · 7 years ago

Text

Rewatching “Batman Returns”

*zips up coat* Welp, it’s snowy out. It snows a lot in this movie. Might as well watch it cause Netflix put all the other Burton-Schumacher movies up.

*in best Han Solo voice* I got a bad feeling about this....

[Mr. Cobblepot stands in front of the window as his wife is giving birth in another room] *in best Pee Wee Herman voice* PEE WEE?!? What are you doing here?!?

YOU LOCKED THE BABY [Oswald] IN A CAGE?!?

I feel like this movie gets even more Tim Burton-y as it goes on.

*jams along to the Batman theme*

Yeah no way. That baby’s dead. End of movie.

Stan Winston!

So... the Batman opens with the creation of the Penguin.

*nods*

DC Comics *ding*

[Directed by Tim Burton] Yes, we know!

Matte painting!

“Man or Myth: Or is he?” Bum bum BUUUUUMMMMMM!!

Hey Alfred!

Is that Felix the Cat as the logo for Shreck?

Oh my Godddd, Christopher Walken....

“Frankly, I [Shreck] cringe, Mr. Mayor.” It needs more cowbell!

You can tell they tried to make Michelle Pfeiffer really frumpy before she put on the Catsuit

The dude who plays Schreck’s son is trying his darn best to replicate Christopher Walken’s accent

“Remind me [Shreck] to take it out on what’s-her-name.” You had her [Selina] as your secretary for God knows how long and you don’t know her name?

Ominous red lighting...

*The clown henchmen run out of the giant present* I SAW DOUG JONES!

I totally forgot that @actordougjones was in this movie! Holy crap!

Ohhhh that’s an awesome shot!

I wanna be that one random clown henchman just casually walking down the street on stilts and completely ignoring everything that’s going on.

“That was very brief. Just like all the men in my life.”

Of course there’s a graveyard in this movie.

Wait, isn’t that one sculpture the one thing that pops up in Beetlejuice?

Gotta admit, the makeup on Danny Devito looks awesome

“You [Shreck] and I [Oswald] are similar.” You both have hair.

“What, is that [umbrella] supposed to hypnotize me [Shreck]?” I literally just had that same thought.

Wait so if Penguin doesn’t know his human name, how do his henchmen address him? Do they just call him “Penguin-Man” all the time?

“Honey, I’m home! Oh, I forgot- I’m not married.” Gotta hammer it in that she’s single

I want that black cat like now

Why does Selina have a pair of tomatoes in the window?

WHY WOULD YOU GIVE YOUR CAT MILK?!?

Why would you [Selina] even open the protected files?

Worst. Secretary. Ever.

Green screen!

Yep, nope, she [Selina] dead. There should a puddle of blood around her.

Here’s a fun fact: cats will eat your dead body. No joke.

Those tights are covered in runs. Selina, were you even thinking while getting dressed this morning?

So is she [Shreck] just repeating the actions that she did before Shreck tried to kill her.

“... a candlelight staff meeting for two.” Holy crap, how did I never catch that?

WHY ARE YOU SHREDDING THE STUFFED ANIMALS?!? ESPECIALLY THE SOCK MONKEY?!?

Though in all seriousness, if she did shred them in the sink like this, she’d only get like half of one properly shredded. Pretty sure sink shredders don’t work like that.

Where did the random black spray paint come from?

Is that wire?

“I don’t know about you, Ms. Kitty, but I feel so much yummier.” Who wrote the script for this?

Hi Doug Jones!

So the Penguin is on this rising duck mechanism but then he’s able to pop fully out of the sewer in the sidewalk and step out? Did his seat have a rising platform as well?

For a Batman movie, I’m 35 minutes in, and there hasn’t been a lot of Batman.

If Penguin doesn’t know his birth name, how the heck is he gonna find his parents in the public records?

Snowwww... all the snow...

I’m digging the top hat Penguin has

Are those black roses Penguin’s putting on his parents’ grave? Of course they are.

“I was their number one son, and they treated me like number two...” Oh my God...

So how is Selina able to beat up dudes when she even says that this is her first time doing that?

Can’t Bruce just sit next to Shreck or something so that he doesn’t have to toss the report across the table?

Freaking Bruce’s mouth stays open the entire time Selina is in the room. Close it before a fly goes in!

So if Shreck were “the people’s man,” shouldn’t he have let Oswald finish eating the raw fish upstairs in his den before escorting him down to the surprise?

And why is Oswald’s hideout above a public workplace?

Why would you elect Oswald mayor anyway? Why would Gotham ever think that this was a good idea in the first place?!?

“I’d like to fill her void.” Noooooooooooooooo......

Did Shreck just reference the Reichstag fire? Buddy, no.....

Doggie!

Gotham looks so much smaller than it did in the first movie

*Batman programs the Batarang to hit all four people* Whaaaattt?

Most iconic shot of the whole movie.

Where’d she get the whip?

*Catwoman starts jump roping with the whip* I mean... same though.

Wilhelm Scream!

He [Batman] just killed that dude!

Why does the store have a functioning microwave out in the first place? At night time?

“Meow.” Fun story: so my dad and my sister I were watching this on FX and my dad refused to leave the hotel for supper until after this scene because he thought this part was hilarious.

It’s [the Penguin’s umbrella] actually a helicopter...

*instant Star Wars Rebels flashbacks*

Matte painting!

Is that actually eyeshadow Michael Keaton’s wearing underneath the cowl?

*actually turns off the volume when Oswald flirts with one of the younger voters*

“Just the pussy I’ve been looking for.” What was the age demographic for this movie again?

*Catwoman starts giving herself a bath* Eewwwww....

I want Selina’s coat like now.

“Who are you [Oswald]?” The dude’s running for mayor, and you don’t know him?

“Sickos don’t scare me. At least they’re committed.” “Well.. yeah...” I mean...

“I will relay the message.” Alfred is the best wingman imaginable.

Gotta get out the rubber cowl...

So how the heck was Penguin able to break into the Batmobile if he hadn’t even seen it before?

*The Ice Princess falls right on top of the fuse box* Yeah, no, she’s dead.

*quotes the mistletoe quote*

[Catwoman literally licks Batman across the mouth] *barely audible* Whyyyyy.....

“Let’s consummate this fiendish union.” Nooooooo....

Now that I think about it, this movie is basically 70% one-liners and sexual innuendos

Oh, now the Batmobile detects a foreign object?

There’s a poster in the crowd that says “Oswald Means Order”

“Security? Who let Vicki Vale into the Batcave?” He’s [Bruce] got a point there, Alfred.

[Frequency Jammed] Is it raspberry?

When the heck did Batman record Oswald during the Batmobile takeover?

OK guys, who brought the lettuce? Is there always a random farmer’s market who always hangs out at important speeches for that reason only?

“Why is there always someone who brings eggs and tomatoes to a speech?!?” Exactly!

“Did you miss me?” Andrew Scott said it better.

“I am not a human being! I am an animal!” Why you gotta try and reference “The Elephant Man” like that?

Did I just hear the opening notes for “Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer?

I like the dude in the background that has the the Leaning Tower of Pisa as part of his mask

Mask of the Red Death in the background! And on a staircase nonetheless!

*sings* WHY SO SILENT, GOOD MONSIEURS....

I want Selina’s dress. I don’t care that it’s probably gonna show off my scoliosis but that’s a super nice dress.

Batman even has his own customized stationary?

“Many of you won’t be coming back.” Some of you may die, but it’s a sacrifice... I am willing to make!

*jams out to the Batman theme once again*

Fun fact: they used actual penguins for this scene when they’re running around with firecrackers on their backs. But not actual firecrackers because hello, what’s wrong with you?

“Estimated casualties 100,000 people.” I think the most we’ve ever seen in this movie concerning the townspeople is like 50 or something.

Random question: how come we never see Penguin actually swim?

*The duck boat thing drives up the stairs* Would that even be possible?

Oh, so Batman comes out of the crash totally fine? Dude, your cowl is freaking rubber!

*Penguins sets off the firecrackers attached to the penguins* WHY?!?!? YOU KNEW THAT THEY WERE STANDING LIKE TWENTY FEET AWAY FROM YOU!

*The Arctic World sign collapses* No, not the polar bear!

*Bruce tears off the main part of his cowl*

So how does the whole actual nine lives left? Selina got shot in the shoulder and side, so those aren’t kill shots. So technically, she still has four lives left instead of two.

*Bruce finds Shreck’s electrocuted corpse* Wow, “Mars Attacks” looks horrible, you guys.

I’m pretty sure Oswald’s just spitting up green goo or something because that’s definitely not blood.

“I need a cold drink of ice water.” Those are terrible dying words

Netflix just captioned the mourning penguin noises as “Awk Awk”

Aaawww the cat!

Why do you have the front passenger window open, Alfred? Bruce is gonna be freezing sitting in the back.

*Catwoman looks up toward the Batsignal* There ya go

#batman returns #the blogger reacts #Michael Keaton #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #catwoman #selina kyle #michelle pfeiffer #christopher walken #Tim Burton #oswald copplepot #the penguin #Danny Devito #Stan Winston #Doug Jones

2 notes · View notes

amoretheiwa · 8 years ago

Text

The Dark Knight and the Boy Scout

First off, I would like to sincerely apologize. This was supposed to go up on Monday--it is now Friday, in case you haven’t noticed. It has been a busy and tiring week for me and I spent all of Monday in either airports or on planes. So, without further ado, the first part of Chapter Two.

Read on AO3

Chapter 2: Enter Last Son of Krypton A

Breanna Wayne is turning 23 years old. It has been 4 months since Batman fought the Joker. While getting to know someone new at her birthday party, the contraption the media has taken to calling the Batsignal (thanks a lot, Gordon) lights up the sky. In the name of safety, Breanna sends her guests home and dons the cowl—only to run into the Man of Steel himself just a few hours after taking care of the situation. It turns out they’re both looking for the same thing, and Breanna reluctantly agrees to work with him for just this case. This chapter and the next 2 (split up into 6 different postings) will be one story arc.

It was only four months since the Joker had appeared, but Gotham society had already bounced back from their member’s deaths; it wasn’t entirely uncommon for people to go missing or die every once in a while. For Breanna’s 23rd birthday party, she hosted a calm celebration in the form of a gala at Wayne Manor. She and Alfred pored over the guest list for over a week, making sure no one was slighted and the proper amount of media was invited as not reporting press but actual guests. It was with a grimace she acquiesced to having the recently returned Oliver Queen and the not-currently-on-parole Lex Luthor.

“If I didn’t have to keep up appearances…” she muttered under her breath. Walking in a handstand behind her butler, Breanna felt sweat slowly dripping down her back and pooling in her bra strap. Whenever he stopped to dust something she started doing a series of push-ups as quickly as possible.

“But I’m afraid you do, Mistress. Unless you’d like the police and FBI and others still after the identity of Batman to make some obscure connections.”

Breanna grunted and started moving after him as moved from one hallway table to another.

“I still don’t understand the point of Batman versus Batwoman,” she gasped.

Less than gracefully she let herself fall back into a standing position, putting a hand on her hip.

“Why does there need to be a gender? Why can’t I just be the Bat?”

Alfred spared her a wry look before continuing his chore.

“I don’t have an answer to that, but I will say that the need to assign labels that have caused this misgendering your nighttime persona has given you an inkling more safety.”

Breanna clicked her tongue and turned around.

“I’m going to hit the shower, Alfred. When I’m done if you wouldn’t mind helping me get everything laid out for tonight that would be fantastic.”

As she walked back down the hallway—this time on her feet—Alfred called after her.

“Are you wearing the blue dress or the red dress tonight?”

Breanna paused and shrugged, glancing back at him.

“The blue one, I guess.”

He nodded in reply.

The Wayne family had employed only one servant since Martha and Thomas made the decision to stop hosting society events at their family home, and that same servant still continued to be the sole long-term employee. For the sake of the upcoming gala, however, Breanna and Alfred had hired a few chefs and waiters with catering experience and an event planner—Rachael Iverson—who took care of the details Breanna didn’t care about. She did care about security, the food, and the color scheme. As cliché as it was, the heiress' favorite color was blue, the same color as her eyes, without a preference for shade.

She was lucky to have no allergies but knew some of the guests had some food allergies and after contacting each of the invitees she had compiled a list of possible refreshments and the planner took care of the rest. The party itself was relegated to the ballroom and gardens only, and the individuals hired to take care of the decorating showed up just three hours before it was to begin. By then, Breanna and Alfred had made sure that any artifacts associated with her nightlife were carefully hidden or stowed away if not already. Her hair was in a simple bun, still wet from her shower, and she ignored the water slowly dripping down onto the neckline of her t-shirt as she spoke with the dark-skinned woman in charge of the whole party when one of her few true friends attending appeared.

Ever since their first interview, Breanna had corresponded with Lois Lane regularly, exchanging information and the occasional meme as it came across their respective attention. More pen pals than the traditional friend, the two women had arranged to get ready together. Breanna politely excused herself from her conversation and turned to hug the shorter woman. For once she wasn’t in a suit, rather Lois had chosen to wear a pair of worn sweatpants and a t-shirt that had obviously seen better days. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail and her own blue eyes were hidden by a pair of aviator sunglasses that Breanna commented on.

“Clark got them for me for my last birthday,” she explained.

Breanna smiled—she had heard much about Clark Kent and was excited to meet him that night—and gave Lois a quick hug.

“Come on in,” she said, gesturing up the steps of the Manor. Lois followed quickly, pulling a small suitcase behind her. Despite the risks that Alfred had repeated more than once, Breanna had impulsively invited the older woman to spend the night.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess, they’re about halfway done getting everything ready.”

Lois pushed her sunglass on top of her head, taking her time to look around the foyer.

“What you call a mess is still impeccable to me, Bre.”

Breanna rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Lo, come on.”

They went up the main stairs quickly and passed Alfred, who moved out of their way with a slight bow of his head.

“Breanna, Miss Lane.”

“Hi Alfred,” Lois said with a grin.

“I have your things laid out on your bed, Miss Wayne,” he said with a soft smile at his ward. Breanna grinned at him; there was something akin to happiness in her eyes that he had not seen for some time.

“Thank you, Alfred. You’re free to go whenever you like.”

He scoffed and the two women paused to stare at him.

“I am not spending my night off anywhere but my room, as there are frankly too many episodes of Downtown Abbey to catch up on.”

Breanna and Lois turned towards each and began to giggle, watching as Alfred shook his head and walked off as regally as ever.

“He’s certainly a character,” Lois quipped.

Breanna nodded and began leading the way again.

“You would not believe the snark. Sometimes I wish I could just turn him loose on the reporters instead of saying anything: no offense.”

“None taken,” Lois waved her hand.

When they reached Breanna’s spacious room Lois put her suitcase on top of the bed. She began pulling her stuff out as Breanna disappeared into the bathroom. She came out with a small hand towel pressed again the back of her neck, mouth opened as if to say something. She froze when she saw what Lois was holding. Not a dress, though she could see some dark red fabric peeking out. No, it was a large glossy picture of Batman, Gotham’s defender. Lois had an eyebrow raised and her other hand resting on her hip.

“What’s that for?” Breanna asked, recovering quickly.

“I’m not dumb, Bre, you know that. When were you going to tell me?”

Breanna’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she forced a smile.

“Tell you what? That I’m dating the Bat?” She laughed but the seriousness on Lois’ face did not go away.

“A little hard to date yourself but if that’s how you want to play it the fine.” She laid the picture down on top of Breanna’s dress and proceeded to pull out her phone from her pocket. She flicked it open and tapped the screen a few times before walking around the bed.

“You return to Gotham after a having disappeared for two years, and less than 12 months later the Bat is first seen. You never advertised this, it’s not on your Wikipedia page, but you not only have a complete bachelor’s in business management but also history, forensics, and criminal psychology of all things. It took some digging but apparently, you have received instruction from some of the top martial artists in the world, and must be proficient in at least nine different languages with the friends you have in 20 different countries.”

Lois paused, raising her eyebrow again.

“Your pictures in the tabloids and the most-used stock photos all have you looking the same, but in person it’s obvious that they’ve been touched up to take away some of your muscular definitions, and it’s a well-known secret in the makeup artist world that you wearing padding on your chest to give the illusion of having bigger boobs than you really do and you have a few scars on your shoulders that require concealer most of the time.”

Lois looked back down at her phone, scrolling a little, and Breanna collapsed in one of her armchairs that faced the room while still providing a view of her balcony.

“You have always voiced your support of the current Commissioner, James Gordon, and the Bat seems to be an ally if not a friend of his. Also, when you were targeted by the Joker a few months ago, Batman did not show up like he did at some of the other victim’s residences.”

Breanna stared at her friend with wide eyes, frozen in the silence before letting her head fall into her empty hand. She rubbed her face while the hand holding the now-wet towel clenched into a fist.

“Is it really that obvious?” she mumbled.

Lois laughed a sharp honking noise, and curled up in the other arm chair.

“Obvious? That took me close to a year to put together, and I never would have thought to except for some of the things you said in our first interview that sounded eerily similar to what others were saying when talking about Batman.”

Breanna glanced at Lois, narrowing her eyes.

Lois gave her a look that screamed “What?” and raised her shoulders.

“I’m an investigative journalist. It’s what I do.”

Breanna fell back into the chair and closed her eyes.

“I know.”

They were both silent, both thinking before Lois shifted her feet to underneath her body.

“I’m not going to tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Breanna’s eyes snapped open and Lois felt that something had shifted from the Breanna Wayne she knew to whoever this was in front of her.

“Oh? Why not? It would be the article of the century, better than anything you have ever written.”

Lois pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

“I’d never be able to write anything better, afterward, either. Besides, I think what you’re doing is important and it’s not my place.”

Breanna starred at her for a little bit longer before shoving herself out of the chair. She began to pace, half of her steps in the light from the balcony window-doors, the other half in the shadowed contrast of the wall. It was while she was in the shadow that she stopped, turning to face Lois better.

“I believe you,” she said at last, her voice serious.

Lois rolled her eyes and stood up, putting her hands on her hips again.

“I’m so glad,” she said sarcastically and walked back over to her suitcase. She carefully moved the picture of Batman—of Breanna—to the other side and continued to take out her things for the gala.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…I’m not used to having friends and with this secret I—”

Lois interrupted her.

“It hasn’t been easy making any, I imagine. Not without feeling like you’re lying to them the entire time.”

Breanna nodded and Lois stopped, her hands full of red material.

“The world needs its heroes, and some cities more than most. Gotham wouldn’t know what to do with Superman just like you wouldn’t know what to do with Metropolis. I hope this crusade of yours works out in the end. Gotham could use a little more light.”

Breanna swallowed and nodded. Lois closed her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath.

“For heaven’s sake, Breanna, look at us. You’re a vigilante, a superhero, at the age of 23 and I’m just a journalist for a newspaper at 26.”

Breanna moved to lean against the edge of her bed, smiling again.

“I wouldn’t say just a journalist. You do have a Pulitzer to your name after all.”

Lois grinned, her blue eyes sparkling and the tension that had been present gone from the room.

“I do, don’t I?”

Bre nodded.

“That’s more than Clark can say.”

Lois laughed and they began to get ready.

#dkandbs #amoretheiwa #amoretheiwa writes #the dark knight and the boy scout #superbat #breanna wayne #clark kent #lois lane #alfred pennyworth #genderbent batman #genderbending

3 notes · View notes

comicsatlasrp-blog · 8 years ago

Photo

Welcome to Comics Atlas, Nee! Your application for Zatanna Zatara with the faceclaim of Priyanka Chopra has been accepted! Please send in your account within 48 hours. Don’t forget to:

Make sure your ask and submit are open. Follow everyone on the follow list. Track the necessary tags. Make sure your character’s bio is easily accessible on their page. Read this information on secret identities. And don’t forget that we ask that your pages are readable, with a minimum of 11px font.

Name / Timezone / Pronouns: Nee / EST / She/her.

Note from the player: My Zatanna is primarily based off of her older comics and a few of her newer ones, her personality is heavily based off of Zatanna the self titled comic from 2013 and Zatanna: Bloodspell, I’m almost surely avoiding Justice League Dark characterization, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to plot some of that out.

Zatanna could put up with the harsh necessities. The mutilations of primitive magic, the occasional unavoidable torture sessions, and even the increasing weight of her failures. What she wasn’t good at handling, however, were the unnecessary ones. And the timing on this case—and the resulting forty-one consecutive hours without sleep—definitely fell into the latter category.

But it was over now. She’d won. The demon was banished. Warehouses stood stark and rusted as they should.

She moved to reflexively straighten her top hat before she simply…gave up. It was time to call a cab and get home where she would collapse in her bed and not think about how neglected house wife it would be if she broke out the wine and a xanax tomorrow. She was a girl with needs, needs to be comfortable and relaxed and not angry at her dad who cursed a fucking comic book with a demon.

She pulled her cell from her hat but paused when she caught sight of the screen. Something must have gotten on it during the fight, some white cobweb-like substance. She swiped at it with her fingers, only to have it bite her with sharp jagged little needles—

Of glass. The glass. The screen was shattered—and she’d gone and jabbed herself on it like a complete idiot. Good one Zee.

She brushed the splinters from her skin, what she could see in the dark at least, and winced when it only seemed to drive a few of them deeper. She suspected she was going to be spending quality time with some tweezers in the near future. Another thing between her and her bed. The xanax and wine was looking better and better with every passing moment.

Mindful of the remaining shards, she pressed the power button, but there was no blinking green light, no cheerful wallpaper—no indicator of life whatsoever.

Motherfucker.

She stepped outside steady on heels and she wondered why she couldn’t have taken the time to switch shoes after her show instead of dashing off into the night like she was Batman, She wasn’t, he was a bit of an ass. She looked around but there was nothing here that would help her. No traffic, no shops—just stretches of decrepit walls and pavement.

“Is this all you have to offer me? After I was the savior of this derelict industrial district? Seriously?!”

No payphones appeared in the shadows.

Christ, nice Zee, good job, talking to shadows and air, that wasn’t dangerous at all. She was maybe delirious from lack of sleep.

Zatanna groaned and barely stopped herself from slumping to the floor, this was a bad neighborhood, her feet hurt, New York was awful and sure, she could protect herself and even better summon a batsignal so she wouldn’t have to, but it didn’t mean she wanted to have to.

“Looks like I’m walking. I regret these heels, I regret them a lot.”

She could cast a communication spell, or at the very least a directional one, but her situation wasn’t exactly dire. That was one thing that separated those who didn’t have experience with magic—or those who shouldn’t have any—from those who did: conjuring forces was only an option when all the alternatives had been exhausted.

Besides, she was fatigued enough to make a mistake.

Magic was a game of equivalent exchange, you could over tax yourself, you could break the laws of arcana but magic always got it’s due and if it wasn’t taking it’s pound of flesh from you, it was taking it from the people around you. Magic was dangerous and volatile and every dark thing that walked every back alley, but it was also every bit of childish wonder people let out into the world when they became adults.

Zatanna had learned to control words, their meanings were vast and varied with every person under the sun, she wasn’t the type of girl to wield words of power like blunt objects, both in magic and in life. Her father had taught her many things and of those things one was evident without her needing to say, self worth was not something anyone in the Zatara line should lack.

Magic is not something that comes naturally, there is no such thing as being born with an innate sense of spellmanship and the knowledge of incantation on your tongue. A twitch of the finger, and your spell could go horribly horribly wrong, and no one knew that better than Zatanna. She grew up surrounded by false magic, magic and tricks and a sense of understanding deep in her soul, and as she aged that understanding became confusion, became the stirrings of wonder. She found that magic was real, and that sense of wonder in her soul fostered into something bright, the light of power and the knowledge that she could do good with that power.

And doing something good with her power had landed her here.

The diner was exactly what Zatanna expected. Too bright and too full of drunks trying to see how well their dates from the clubs held up under fluorescents. Someone else, someone smarter and not in four inch heels with a working phone, would have bypassed this misery and kept going.

But as far as she was concerned, the diner might as well be the Mecca. It had taken her over half an hour to get here, and by the time she’d seen the flashing neon she’d been on the verge of crawling into the nearest dumpster and taking a nap on all that cozy trash—if it hadn’t been for the likelihood that she’d freeze to death. Or for the stench.

She probably looked like she belonged there right about now, or working a corner.

Magic was about equivalent exchange, life was not, not individually and maybe she’s glaring at the boys hitting on her and drinking up her bare legs like she’s a tall glass of water but she sort of laments her love life, or just her life in general really.

She was beautiful, unashamed of it, and she didn’t flaunt it anymore than she needed to for her acts. No, she was simply a woman, well, as simply as she was anything at all, she didn’t showcase nor hide who she was, her wants, her desires, her heart wasn’t on her sleeve, but neither was it barricaded in her chest, behind walls of bone, gilded with blood and curved into a cage. She was sure of herself and her opinions, of what society wanted of her and what she wanted in return because in things like this she expected, wouldn’t stand for anything less then, and believed in, equivalent exchange. So while she spent her days and nights fighting off suitors, suitors who bought the most expensive wine on the menu because they knew nothing of wine and wished to impress her, because they thought if they flaunted their money they would win her affections. To her ‘average jerks’ she thought, that mainly, they likened her to a prostitute, give her wealth, power, stability and she’ll give you her body, her mind, her soul, and that, she always believed, was not equivalent exchange.

The thing is, none of them offered her anything she didn’t already have.

Except the surprisingly hot guy behind the counter who was smiling, and whoa, were those dimples? And a phone. Zatanna leaned over the counter with a grin, and sent a quiet thank you to the universe.

#accepted

0 notes

spiderfan22 · 8 years ago

Text

DAY TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-TWO - 7/25/17

“SCENES FROM THE NEW BATMAN” by DJS

And this is coming from a guy who actually LIKES Batman!!!

Scene one: an alley

In which Batman beats the shit of a middle-aged white politician. Robin enters. He is shocked at Batman’s brutality. And all that blood.

BATMAN

(yelling in politician’s face)

TELL ME!!!!!

POLITICIAN

(whimpering)

But I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Batman! I don’t know about any bribes! I’m clean -- I swear I’m clean!

BATMAN

UN. LIKELY!!!!!!

Batman is about to punch the politician in the face again, when Robin steps in:

ROBIN

Batman -- Jesus Christ!! Stop!! You can’t just, I mean it’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re talking about or he’d have told you already -- confessed. But look at him. You’ve knocked like a bunch of his teeth out and his eyes are swollen shut. He can’t even see anymore, Batman!

BATMAN

You’re the one who’s blind, Robin. This piece of shit knows the truth! And I’m getting it out of him.

ROBIN

But you beat him up anymore, Batman, and you might kill him! I mean he’s gotta have suffered brain damage already. Look he’s practically unconscious! His tongue’s hanging out and, and… oh God. I mean the blood alone!

BATMAN

Fine!

(He releases the politician)

We’ll let Gordon and his men take the next crack at him. But I’d bet my life -- and yours, “Boy Wonder” -- that we’ve only scratched the surface with this sonuvabitch.

ROBIN

Okay. Fine. Just -- please? Can we go now?

BATMAN

Yeah, bring the Batmobile around.

ROBIN

I’m 14. I can’t drive yet.

BATMAN

Oh.

Batman considers that. Then he slowly walks away. Robin stands there shaking his head for a moment. Looks down at the bloody and beaten politician. Then he follows.

Scene two: the Batcave

In which Batman cyber-stalks his ex-girlfriends. Alfred arrives with a bowl of hot soup on a tray.

ALFRED

(seeing the computer screen)

Aw, Master Bruce. Is that wise now, taking a trip down memory lane? Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

BATMAN

But this is Silver St. Cloud, Alfred.

ALFRED

Yes sir, I remember Miss St Cloud quite vividly. Beautiful, charming, the life of the party. But then she could never reconcile the man with the bat, so you quite humanely called things off, letting the young woman go on with her life.

BATMAN

She’s dating some politician now.

ALFRED

Yes, I have read the same in the society pages.

BATMAN

He doesn’t deserve her.

ALFRED

(he hesitates)

Perhaps -- and if I am out of line, sir, I apologize in advance -- but just perhaps, Master Bruce, that is your own jealousy speaking.

BATMAN

It’s not.

ALFRED

(slowly)

Alright, sir.

(pause)

Well, I’ve brought you some hot soup. Beef consommé.

BATMAN

I’m not hungry.

ALFRED

But you haven’t eaten a solid meal in over a week, sir.

BATMAN

And what’s beef consommé now, a “solid meal?”

ALFRED No sir, but it does possess the necessary vitamins--

BATMAN

I said I’m not hungry, Alfred.

ALFRED

Yes, Master Bruce.

BATMAN

You should learn to listen the first time.

ALFRED

Of course. I’m sorry. Sir.

BATMAN

Good. You’re excused.

Alfred leaves with the bowl of soup. Batman obsesses on the screen in front of him, fixating on a closeup of a smiling Silver St. Cloud in the arms of the politician from the previous scene. He zooms in until it’s just a closeup of her cleavage.

Scene three: the rooftop of the Gotham Police Department

In which Batman argues with Commissioner Gordon. The Batsignal is present but not lit.

GORDON

I can’t do it, Batman.

BATMAN

(grunts)

WHY. NOT.

GORDON

Because it breaks about a dozen laws -- not to mention it’s completely unconstitutional.

BATMAN

Question: would you be throwing the Constitution in my face if this was the Joker we were talking about?

GORDON

Look, Batman: we’ve done some digging and as far as we’ve been able to tell so far, there’s just no immediate threat. On the contrary, in the eye of the law, the Senator is a hundred percent clean.

BATMAN

Impossible.

GORDON

NO. The guy’s a pillar of his community. Gives back, gives to charity. Never even the whiff of a scandal around him. His wife passed away a couple years back -- cervical cancer. The incredible thing was it was an election year; he was up for reelection at the time. But he effectively suspended his campaign so he could be at her bedside the last few months. And get this: when the story gets out that that’s what he’s been doing, his constituents come out anyway and vote the guy back into office. For Christ sake it was a landslide, with him getting over 90 percent of the vote. Which I don’t care who you are, is unheard of. So he’s basically a revered kind of figure. The local boy made good.

BATMAN

I don’t believe it. You need to bring him in for further questioning. Only this time I’ll be in the room too, for a little… extra intimidation.

GORDON

Definitely not, Batman.

(hesitant)

And speaking of which, while we’re on the subject: the Senator seems to have recently suffered a number of bumps and bruises, scrapes… Hell, I don’t know why I’m mincing words here. He’s got cracked ribs, his left arm’s busted in two places and his face looks like someone took a baseball bat to Goddamn pomegranate.

BATMAN

I told you, he’s connected to the mob. Which means the senator’s injuries could only be attributed to Carmine Falcone, probably some form of retaliation or warning. I suggest the GCPD bring him in for questioning as well. We can play them off each other. Give new meaning to the term “hot box”.

GORDON

Yeah, well. I got CCTV footage of an alley up in The Narrows that shows you quite clearly beating the Senator half to death. That’s until Robin has the good sense to pull you away.

Small beat.

BATMAN

Enough! There are too many people interfering in my investigation now, it’s becoming clouded. Obviously I have to go this one alone.

GORDON

Yeah, uh, Batman…? I can’t let you do that.

BATMAN

What?!

GORDON

Bruce Wayne--

BATMAN

How did you--?

GORDON

Mr. Wayne I’m placing you under arrest for the assault of Senator Martin Graham.

BATMAN

Preposterous! Jim, how far back do we--

Through a door on the roof, a bunch of police officers in Kevlar and helmets emerge and surround Batman. Guns drawn.

GORDON

You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law--

BATMAN

JIM! THIS IS INSANE.

GORDON

--if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you--

BATMAN

Are you--? Of course I can afford an attorney! I’M BATMAN!!

Batman struggles but the officers overpower him. He is forced to his knees and his hands are cuffed behind his back.

Scene four: Prison cell

In which Batman has been denied bail due to being an extreme flight risk. He shares a cell with a serial rapist. A hulking brute of a guy covered head to toe in tattoos. Batman is dressed in a prison orange jumpsuit, but still wears his cowl.

RAPIST

So this is what essentially is going to happen. This is how it’s gonna go down. I’m horny. I mean I get horny. And since because there ain’t no available chicks around to pound their fucking pussies, I’m forced to go with the most immediate and available wet hole. That means your ass, Butt Man. And I ain’t gonna be gentle neither. What, you think we got anything nice as lube up in this bitch? Man, you in Rikers Island! So I’m not gonna lie, it’s going to hurt. Bad. So bad you probly gonna bleed. But am I gonna give a shit? Izzat going to make me stop? Shit – am I gonna even pause in my stroke to check on your delicate, sensitive little lady feelings? Fuck no. I’ma just keep ramming it home, ramming it home, till Daddy gets his nut. Now how’s that sound, Mister Caped Crusader?

BATMAN

Please… don’t hurt me. I’ll… I’ll pay you. Whatever. Anything. A million dollars… two million. All you have to do is take care of me, don’t let anyone else harm me or… just while I’m in here, just until I get out. I’ll wire the money to your account. As much as you want. Only please--

RAPIST

My account, huh? And what account would that be? My one in Switzerland or down in the Caymans? You are seriously divorced from reality, you know that Batman?

BATMAN

I’m beginning to see that, yes.

RAPIST

I tell you what, let’s make us a deal. Because I gotta get my rocks off, there’s no getting around that. But I’ll spare you ass – and protect your ass too round here – long as you keep me satisfied in the general sense.

BATMAN

What do you [mean] --?

RAPIST

Suck-jobs and handies. That’s it. That’s all.

Beat. Batman looks around the tiny cell, nowhere else to turn.

BATMAN

What other choice do I have?

RAPIST

None. And that attitude of accepting your fate and just going with the flow will serve you well behind bars. Believe me.

They sit there a moment, in silence, the Rapist waiting.

RAPIST

Uh, well??

BATMAN

Well what?

RAPIST

What do you think, Dork Knight? Get to fucking sucking or the deal’s off.

BATMAN

Oh. Right now? It has to be right now?

RAPIST

Right now and every evening round this time. I like to keep my schedule regular.

BATMAN

Oh… okay.

(The rapist pulls down his pants.)

Uh, how should I--?

RAPIST

Start with the head. But word of advice: I wouldn’t try and shove too much in your mouth to begin with, though I understand the impulse, you want to come on all professional, do a pleasing job, but for the moment just focus on the head and let your hand do the rest of the heavy lifting. Then you can work up to deepthroating me.

BATMAN

Oh my God. I think I’m going to be sick.

RAPIST

Understandable. But wait to after. ‘Cause so help me, you get any puke on me, we gonna have a real problem.

The rapist lies back on his bunk. Batman stares, open mouthed, until the rapist gently pulls Batman’s head down towards his crotch.

Scene five: Wayne Manor, several years later

In which Batman has retired after spending a couple years locked up. He is severely overweight now, with chronic diabetes. He is blind and his right leg has been amputated below the knee. In a wheelchair. He drinks and takes pills to excess.

Selina Kyle has come to pay him a visit. She is older but still quite attractive.

BATMAN

(sniffing the air)

Selina.

SELINA

Hello Bruce.

BATMAN

The Catwoman.

SELINA

It’s been a long time since anyone called me that.

BATMAN

Well, it suited you. You’ve always been curious.

SELINA

Not to mention flexible.

BATMAN

Heh.

Pause.

SELINA

I must say, you don’t look too good Bruce.

BATMAN

I’d imagine not.

SELINA

When was the, the--?

BATMAN

When did they amputate my leg? God it must have been… what, four years ago?

SELINA

I meant to come see you in the hospital.

BATMAN

I won’t hold it against you.

SELINA

Suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here now.

BATMAN

Well, a healthy curiosity is something I like to think we shared.

Selina sighs. Pulls a gun from her purse. Points it at Batman in his wheelchair. Cocks it just to be sure he’s gotten the message. Beat.

BATMAN

I see.

SELINA

And I’m sorry, Bruce, but this is the only way he said I could ever be free.

BATMAN

Who said? No, wait, let me guess. Joker.

SELINA

‘Fraid so, Bruce. It’s the end of the line.

BATMAN

It hasn’t occurred to you that I still might have a trick or two up my sleeve?

SELINA

It has.

BATMAN

And that doesn’t give you pause?

SELINA

I don’t know. Maybe?

BATMAN

Selina please now, we can discuss this. With our history. There was love there once, if not a mutual respect. And--

But Selina is already crossing the room, moving behind Batman. She puts the gun to the back of his head. He feels the muzzle against his scalp and freaks:

BATMAN

Wait! No! Selina!! SELINA DON’T NN--

She pulls the trigger. The gun goes off with a loud bang. Blood and brains and bone explode out of the front of Batman’s head and he slumps forward, falling out of his wheelchair. Smoke wafts in the air. Selina places the gun in the dead Batman’s hand, making it look like a suicide. It’s only now we notice she’s been wearing gloves this whole time. She looks down at the body for another moment. Then she goes.

We hear her high-heeled footsteps receding through the front hall. Then the door creaking way off and slamming shut, quietly.

The Dark Knight Has Fallen.

End of play.

#batman #dc comics #dark knight #caped crusader #short play #catwoman #robin #alfred pennyworth #prison

0 notes