#He hasn't heard from Joker in weeks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marshmallow-rainbow139 · 11 months

Text

Depriving

Summary: Jason thinks his parents didn’t care when he died. Only if he knew what his mother almost did.

Warning: Talks of death

Words: 1,213

AO3

Get the tissues y'all!

Jason doesn't know.

The boys don't know.

Heck, not even Alfred knows.

It's a secret between Anne and Bruce.

The day she almost killed the Joker

It was weeks after Jason's funeral. Bruce found the Joker and beat him to a bloody pulp, ending with the Clown in a body cast, in the ICU for six months, and back again to Arkham. That was the story Jason and the others knew.

But in between the Joker ending up in the hospital and getting back to Arkham, Anne went to the hospital, waited for the policeman guarding the door to fall asleep, and went inside.

He was unconscious, but she wanted him to be awake and have his eyes open so that she could look at him. She approached him and drew the curtain so that no one could watch them through the window of the door and interrupt her.

The sound of the machine beeping annoyed her; that's not what she wanted to hear. He was hooked up to a breathing machine after one of his lungs collapsed. Another time she would pat Bruce on the back for putting the Joker like this, but after what he did to her baby boy, it's not enough. He hasn't been hurt enough.

With one steady stroke, Anne grabbed the plastic tube of the breathing machine and squeezed it. Hard.

It took almost a minute for him to wake up. What frustrates her the most when she looks back at that moment is that he was not concerned or even curious about what was happening to him.

He was smiling with his eyes. She recognized that glee in his yes. Like a child being offered a puppy on Christmas. That was not how he was supposed to react. She wanted him to be afraid. Just like she knows Jason was when he was being beat over and over again with that damn crowbar.

He was looking her in the eyes, and he was barely reacting. He didn’t care that he might die.

The lack of oxygen was starting to get to him. He was squirming, and the heart monitor was beating rapidly. She could hear steps down the hall. She knows a nurse is going to show up. She will enter the room, open the curtain, and see Anne Wayne hovering over the Joker and killing him. She will scream. The guard will wake up and grab his gun. He will give Anne a warning, but she will not move an inch. He will shoot her, and she will drop to the ground. Maybe she will survive or die that night. She doesn't care. She died when Jason died.

She was waiting for that to happen, but what happened was that her body was pulled away from the clown, and a hand covered her mouth. Bruce, of course. He dragged her to the darkest corner of the room and covered her with his body. She was small enough for him to cover her with his body.

She was trying to break free of his arms when he whispered quickly to her. "Think of Dick!" and she stopped just in time as a nurse and a doctor walked into the room.

Son of a bitch.

Of course, he was going to use Dick to calm her down.

They stayed still as they heard the doctor and the nurse taking care of that thing.

When they leave, Bruce waits a few moments before taking her away from the hospital.

At that moment, something changed their relationship and almost broke it.

"What you did goes against everything we stand for!" Bruce shouted when they were in an empty alley.

"Well, I'm sorry, but last time I checked, your no-killing rule was not on our wedding vows!" She shouted back at him.

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "This isn't a joke. Stop being selfish."

Her eyes widened at his accusation. "I’m selfish! How dare you!" she pulled away from him. "How fucking dare, you! So, you're the only one that shakes up that piece of shit a little bit!"

She put distance between them.

"He killed my son! HE KILLED OUR SON!" She screamed with tears in her eyes. "And you expect me to do what? You expect me to sit pretty in the manor while Jason is rotting in our backyard! You expect me to just accept that thing back to Arkham and move on! NO! He needs to pay! I want him to be hurt! I want him begging for his life like Jason did! I want him to be afraid like Jason was! I just want my son back!" With that last phrase, she broke.

She thought she had shed all her tears since her son’s body was on the stretcher in that morgue in Bosnia. She bent over and started sobbing. She grips her chest as she feels like her heart is being stabbed.

Soon after, she feels his hand on her back. Like two magnets, she throws herself at him and hugs him while sobbing on his chest. He puts his arms around her. "We killed him," she rasped out. "We were supposed to protect him and give him a better life, but we dragged him to his death. He was amazing. He was so sweet. And we killed him."

Bruce tightens his arms around her. "No, it was not your fault. It was not your fault, Anne."

She cried harder into his chest. She could feel, very faintly, Bruce’s tears falling down her hair. Anne knew that he was in pain as well for Jason’s death, but he held it together for her, Dick, and Alfred.

Anne cried with all she had inside. They went to the batmobile and drove home in silence. She didn’t ask how he knew she was going there, and he didn’t tell Alfred what happened because it was unusual for Bruce and Anne to come back home in the batmobile with Bruce dressed as Batman, but the buttle didn’t pry a lot. Alfred knew whatever it was was related to Jason.

The next week, Anne moved from the manor into an apartment in town. She needed a break. They needed a break. It turns into a legal separation when talking to divorce lawyers. It was thanks to Timothy’s arrival and crossing paths multiple times that they managed to mend their marriage.

They never told Jason about that night, even when he said they didn’t care about him because the Joker was still alive. Anne wanted Jason to yell at her and take all of his anger out on her. It felt more satisfying than depriving the Joker of oxygen.

The clown never knew it was Anne Wayne who tried to kill him that night. The room was barely lit. He would ask years later, when Batman came for answers about Red Hood, "Who was that lady standing over my hospital bed that night, Batsy? I've got to say I've never felt so excited! Can you ring up so that we could do that again?"

What Bruce didn't know at the time was that it was not the first time she went forward with a murder plan. That night just happened to be the one she didn't succeed.

#batman #batmom #Anne Wayne #batfamily #bruce wayne x oc

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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Ok now you are gunna make me cry. That is so sweet and got the way he can't properly cry- fuck you but in the most positive way. It's a week after he discovers that Dick is really there that he starts muttering for other people. He asks for Kon and Bart and Jason. Never in the same day though, he needs time to discover that yes these people Danny kidnaps for him are there and real. He doesn't ask for Bruce simply because he feels like that should be obvious, of course he wants his father! Eventually he whispers to Dick between giggles, "why hasn't Bruce come yet? I thought he would get here first-"

Also one thing Danny does that helps ground Tim when he starts having those fits of laughter is to curl up on him like a giant snake cat thing as the mix of pressure and the presence of someone being there helps remind him that he is on the farm, not with the Joker.

uno reverse that kindly fuck you because oW-

I love how Danny just becomes snakey to give Tim the Good Hugs. That’s so incredibly cute.

Okokok so. Danny keeps on bringing his friends over. The second he realizes that Dick is truly there he doesn’t let him leave his sight. Dick can’t be farther than a dozen feet away from his brother or Tim will break down thinking that Dick left him. The separation anxiety is extremely bad but with Dick he’s had a lot of progress in his mental stability.

Tim calls for Kon and Bart.. Kon flies there the SECOND he hears his name. He knew the rules that Danny set in place. Batman gave everyone a debrief to not inhibit Tim’s recovery and it took all of his willpower to not drop everything and fly over as he heard Tim’s cries and laughter.

Tim is not as clingy with Kon and Bart but if one of them isn’t in his sight he panics. He is very tactile touchy with his friends. One of the best ways to help calm Tim was for Connor to use his Tactile Telekinesis to hold Tim in place. It’s like a mind hug. Tim is surrounded by Connors presence and it makes him feel truly safe (not as safe as Bruce’s hugs but safe enough. Where is Bruce why isn’t his dad here?)

Jason arrives and he sees himself in Tim. The memories of how his pit madness controlled him made his heart ache but not nearly as much as seeing Tim’s distant gaze and the soft giggle that slipped past his lips every so often. Tim wasn’t even looking at him, he was very very far away and lost in his mind. Jason hugged Tim fiercely as Tim’s expression and focus point into nothingness stayed the same. He was going to do everything in his power to help his Brother the same way his little brother helped him.

Danny wanted to kick himself. Of COURSE he wanted his Dad. Why wouldn’t he? Tim’s laughter nearly sounded like sobs when he begged Danny to bring him his dad. That memory of Tim crying for his father was going to haunt Danny for the rest of his life.

Danny flies over to the Batcave faster at record speed.

He stands in the batcave and sees Bruce typing away at the computer. Bruce pauses.

“How is he?”

Danny’s heart swells for this mans concern for his son. “It’s slow. His laughter has lessened again. Haven’t heard him belly laugh in over a week. He actually saw Bart today. Made the poor kid cry his heart out when Tim asked him to braid his hair.”

Batman nodded so minutely that if Danny didn’t know the man better, he’d have thought the Dark Knight just stood in silence.

“Who are you for this time?”

“You.”

Batman somehow froze even more than his completely still form already was. “Me.”

“By name.”

Bruce almost cried from the joy of finally being chosen. Days he’s stayed restless and awake in bed just torturing himself with the thoughts of Tim being in pain and being unable to help.

The second Tim sees Bruce his eyes light up. He runs over and gives Bruce a hug.

That was already the biggest thing Tim has done in weeks. What happened next warmed everyone to their core.

Tim laughed.

Not that forced painful laughter that caused Tim to cry himself to sleep or wake himself up with uncontrolled giggles, but true real laughter of pure delight as he saw his Dad stand outside Danny’s barn.

Bruce hugged Tim with all his might. He will do everything in his power to help his son.

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #bones replies #dp x dc prompt #anon #back and fourth anon #jokes on him au #I didn’t peer read this so sorry for typos and grammatical errors #wrote a lot more than I thought I would but hope u enjoy it!

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bougiebutchbitch · 2 years

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PLEASE fucked-up-fish!Joker and Bruce having absolute ungodly sex would be top tier

Rating: M Pairing: Batjokes Warnings: uh. many. Mostly gore and cannibalism (does it count as cannibalism, if it’s a semi-human monster doing the eating?)

This is unedited flash fic - please excuse any errors!

The harbour stinks at night.

It stinks at every other hour too, as corrosive concoctions leach from the output sluices of the chemical plants and raw sewage splatters from black-crusted pipes, draining the city's rot like pus from a lanced boil. But at night, there's no breeze. No stir of the thick, soupy air. The stench presses sweaty hands over your nose and mouth, smothering you in effluent and acid.

Batman lands silent on the broad concrete pipe of a storm drain, letting his heavy duffel rest at his feet, and wishes he'd let Alfred pipette a few drops of peppermint essence into his nosepiece.

He's come here several times over the past year. Once a month at first, now twice a week. The frequent exposure hasn't helped him acclimatize. The only way to inure yourself is to line your boots with lead, jump in to the water, and let your lungs fill until you add your own putrefaction to the perfume.

Or to slip, while fleeing the scene of a petty robbery with Batman pounding close behind. To laugh, breathless and bewildered, as Batman lunged for his hand and missed...

Batman shuts his eyes. Breathes in, breathes out.

Then unknots his duffel and pulls out a leg.

The pale flesh looks unreal in the moonlight. Like wax, like clay. But Batman can feel the limb's fleshy solidity through his gauntlets, down to the faint crispness in the soft tissue where it hasn't quite thawed from its stint in the deep-freeze unit at the morgue.

Batman holds it a moment longer, studying the curve of muscle over the tibia and fibula , the dots of hairs that either fell off in the freezer or were shaved away pre-mortem and never had chance to regrow. Reminding himself of the humanity this lump of meat once possessed feels important, somehow. Though he got laughed at, last time he tried to explain why.

He lets go. Down the leg tumbles, down-down-down, until it hits the black.

The water seals over it and reforms without a ripple. One hungry gulp.

After that, the only thing to do is wait. Batman chooses to stay standing, the moon casting his shadow over the greasy tidelines that stripe the soakaway below.

He doesn't need to wait long. He never does.

He's fishing out the second offering - an arm, from a young RTC fatality who donated her body to science - when he hears it. The water doesn't splash against the harbour edge; it slops, a thick and constant sound, oddly perverse, like skin striking skin. But there's always a rhythm to it, steady as a heartbeat. It only changes when something falls in or pulls itself out.

Batman doesn't turn to look. Just unhooks the duffel from the petrified elbow joint and tightens the strings.

A hollow, wet thump echoes from inside the storm drain. As if whatever just emerged from the river just hauled itself inside.

"Hello, darling," it says. "Business, or pleasure?"

Batman shoulders the duffel. He swings down into the tunnel, shining his flashlight into the gloom. Four reflective eyes bounce it back, bright as coins. They all blink in synchrony - then alight on the arm and widen, pupils shrinking to predatory points.

"Ooh," coos the monster, slithering closer. Sleek scales scrape on the rough concrete. The rank stench of the estuary gains an extra touch of acid. "For little ol' me? You shouldn't have." A stroke of an eerie white stomach, concave as that of a famine victim. "A girl's gotta watch her figure."

"You can have it," says Batman, guttural, "if you tell me what I want to know."

That too-wide mouth tilts down at its edges, hiding a disquieting number of serrated teeth. At least that stops the monster from licking his lips. "Business first, huh? No fun. Haven't you heard, Bats - All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?"

"Last time I was here, you told me Jack's dead. Now it's only Joker."

Joker waves one hand as if to dismiss his past words as the rambles of a madman. Which, Batman supposes, isn't inaccurate. The webs between his fingers come down to their tips, where the corpse-pale flesh turns slimy and black as mildew. "Dead's usually what happens, when you push people into this harbour."

"I didn't push you. You fell."

"Fell hard," Joker agrees, clasping both hands to his cheek and fluttering all four pairs of non-existent lashes.

Batman fights not to let his scowl twitch. He walked right into that one. "No games tonight, Joker. I need to know what happened to Murray Alberwitz."

Joker slithers to sit before him, criss-cross applesauce. Joker. Why he calls himself that, Batman can't figure . He certainly doesn't find what happened to this man funny.

From a distance, the mutation seems mostly cosmetic: the freakish white skin, the toxic-waste hair. The dapplings of soft purple scales that coat Joker's long, skinny bare legs. Only when you get close do you notice the really disturbing parts. The fleshy gills opening and closing down the lines of his ribs, the color of infected knife wounds. The grotesque sheen of his skin, like he's half-liquid, held together with mucus and spite. The extra two eyes, situated laterally and inferiorly to the originals, but all the exact nuclear shade of green.

The improbable quantity of meat-ripping teeth.

Joker bares these at Batman in a cheery and utterly horrifying smile. "Whomsy-what-now?"

"Murray Alberwitz. He vanished yesterday, last seen heading home along the dock path after his shift at ACE Chemicals. Here." Batman pulls the photograph from his utility belt, holding it under his flashlight beam. Joker tilts his head, rubbing the sticky webbing between his index finger and thumb back and forth over his top lip.

"Can't say he rings any bells. Big fan of the beard though: points for lumberjack realness. Now, that's business over - onto pleasure?"

Joker leans back, letting his slim legs slide apart. He arches his back so his thin dorsal spines scrape the pipe's interior, concrete on bone. His translucent eyelids slide halfway over his irises, dampening the acidic intensity of his stare - the closest he can come to bedroom-eyes.

Repulsion flickers in Batman's stomach. That's far more welcome than what else flickers there.

A year is a long time, after all. At first, the visits were out of necessity. Having discovered what the smalltime criminal nobody he'd chased out to the harbour that night had become - and what he needed to eat, to survive - it only seemed right for Batman to take responsibility. And - sure, he'd allowed himself to show a touch of kindness. But that was because he’d been reminiscing over Harvey's fate, hoping he could spare this man the same pain as he learnt to live with his disfigurement.

Joker had never seemed particularly bothered by his new state of being, though. He'd been far more intrigued with Batman.

And flirty. So very flirty.

Irrepressably, shamelessly. Night after night. Snuggling up to Batman, mouth stained with blood from the bags Batman took from the hospital bank, like he wanted to absorb his bodyheat. Winking at him, two of the four eyes twitching closed. Modelling bikinis he'd stolen from god-knew-which-beach - certainly, there were none local - with the strappy tops hanging off his rake-thin chest. Pouting at Batman; teasing him; ever-determined to make him laugh, as if the horrific left-turn his life had taken the moment he hit the cesspit of chemical waste in Gotham harbor was nothing but one big joke...

But there will be no laughing tonight. No tucking his arm around that gaunt shape, so squishy where it ought to be sharp, Joker's mutated bones bending into his embrace. No strumming down the spinous prcesses that jut from his back, just to make him shiver. No kissing the blood off his teeth.

A trickling stream of rainwater spills along the base of the pipe, moistening Joker's too-soft amphibious skin. Batman wants to lick it off, and the thought makes him want to plunge his batarang into his own mouth and cut out his tongue.

"You're lying to me," he whispers.

Joker's eyes are cold as his blood. "Huh," he says, mild like they're discussing the weather. "Took you long enough to figure that one out."

Batman's swallow pulls at the collar of his suit. Behind him, the water's surface shimmers with oil. It looks so thick you might walk across to the far side of the estuary, where the Narrows shine harsh and sharp as a mouthful of broken teeth.

Batman isn't fooled. Firstly, oil spreads itself to a mono-molecular thinness over water's surface, no way near enough to hold a man's full weight. Secondly, deaths around this sector of Gotham's jagged waterfront have doubled in the past month.

Accidental drownings, according to the papers. Drunks shambling home through the industrial district who totter into the water when they're too inebriated to tell up from down. Workers exhausted from a night shift, stumbling, falling, smacking their heads open on the reclaimed concrete shoreline and adding their brainmatter to the toxic stew.

Batman doesn't believe it. Though he wishes he could.

Drowned men don't show up with bites missing.

You cannot turn a blind eye, Alfred had insisted.

This needs to be dealt with, said Gordon, by you or by us.

They're right. And Batman shouldn't have needed to be told.

"Why? I - I bring you food. I've been helping you! Why would you...?"

Joker shrugs. "Sometimes there ain't a reason, Batsy. Sometimes, the water's just gotta eat."

"If the corpses aren't enough, you could've said! I could get you more." He's sure he could source them from more donors, if he expanded his search radius outside of Gotham.

Now the flash in Joker's eyes is dangerous. He scoots back a little way, into the shadows of the tunnel, rocking up onto his haunches. His bare feet are flat as flippers, the bones oddly elongated, toes joined with a single thick web. He complained once to Batman that the one thing he misses is being able to wear high heels. "Oh, good little Batsy. Feeding his pet. Providing soooo much enrichment in his enclosure, with the regular fuckings."

The harsh words hit Batman like fists. "That's not what's going on here, and you know it."

"Isn't it?"

...Isn't it?

No. No. Joker can't manipulate his way out of this. The appropriate action when feeling trapped in a relationship, concerned that your partner is exerting too much control, is to talk to them and establish boundaries. Not to start eating anyone who dares approach the water at night.

Batman holds up the cadaver’s arm. This is stupid. So very stupid. Alfred told him as much, Dick too.

You need to bring him in. This is the time. Or else, more civilians will be forfeit...

Batman knows that. He knows. But he still can’t help but hope...

“I’ll bring you a whole body,” he says, gruffly. “Once a week. That should be more than enough. And no more people go missing in the harbour.”

“Sure,” agrees Joker. He’s smiling again. Batman doesn’t like it one bit.

But what can he do?

More than this, whispers a little voice in the back of his head. Batman drives it away.

He passes the arm to Joker - not tossing it, because Joker isn’t an animal in a cage, no matter his delusions. Though that could be doubted, watching him eat. His eyes go utterly blank, nothing in them but hunger as he unhinges his jaw and tears the limb apart, swallowing it in two devastating bites.

Not a pleasant sight. Still, Batman refuses to look away.

“Now,” says Joker when he’s finished eating, wiping the gore on the back of his hand. It leaves a vermillion smear, rudely bright in the pale glow of the flashlight. “Not that I don’t appreciate the UberEats service, but - hey, wait. Have you seen the one about the hot stepson and the UberEats driver?”

“Is this the set-up to a joke?”

“A porno,” Joker explains, shuffling closer again. Batman can smell blood and rotten human meat on his breath. “I thought we could improve on it. I mean, I’m like, freakishly flexible now and there’s some new moves I wanna try - and I reckon the ol’ PornHub’s missing out on the ‘mutant freak’ category. You gotta anticipate the market on these things.”

Batman lets the rambling wash over him. Somehow, despite the bleached skin decorating Joker’s face and torso, the smatterings of amethyst scales on his legs, his lips are still bright red. It’s not just the blood. Physical markings, from the acid that birthed him. Nature’s venemous warning signs.

“Promise me,” he whispers. “No more bodies.”

Joker rolls his eyes like he can’t believe he’s being this boring, and presses his cold, damp lips to Bruce’s. The kiss of a drowned thing, dredged from the harbour floor.

“No more bodies,” he singsongs. “I’ll eat all the evidence, next time. Even though beard hairs get stuck between my teeth. The things I do for you, darling...”

Batman tenses. “Joker...”

But the monster’s already crawled into his lap, kissing him hard and just a touch too toothy, arms locked around his neck and legs around his waist, squirming against him like it wants to burrow inside his ribcage and wrap itself around his heart. Iron fills Batman’s mouth, painted over his tongue by the Joker’s. He wonders, if he nicked his lip on one of those sharp teeth, whether Joker would be able to control himself, or if the feeding frenzy would take over.

He wonders if Joker would mourn, if it did.

But though the night is cold, Joker is colder. Though the stink rolls off the harbor, the death on Joker’s breath is worse. He’s Gotham’s ugliest parts condensed into one monster. He’s killed before and he’ll kill again. He’s in Bruce’s arms, in his mind, in his blood. Permeating him like poisoned water.

Batman kisses him back. He holds him tight as a straitjacket and tries not to think of tomorrow.

#batjokes #batman #joker #the joker #batman comics #batman x joker #monsterfucking #joker x batman #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: dismemberment #tw: cannibalism #(sorta)#dc comics #my fic #my art #ask and ye shall receive #tw: gore

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the-broken-truth · 2 years

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Can I have continuation of Doomsday with Superman Wonder woman and Batman's child I kind of want to see them duke it out and just see them regretting everything.

[The Watchtower]

[The Man of Steel stood before the Supercomputer and watched as the youngest of his children lasered a hole into Lex Luthor's Head before dropping his lifeless body to the ground before turning to face Superman and Jon, then he witnessed [Super Son] beat the crap out of his older brother before Darkseid walked out of a Boom Tube and collected Kol-El before the two of them disappeared through the golden tube. The video then scumbled and restarted when Kol-El broke into Lex's Office.]

Diana (Sitting at the table, looking at a photo of herself and two girls, her eyes red from the tears): Clark, please stop watching that. You've watched it over 10 times by now.

Clark (Dangling his head, shaking it as tears fall just under the supercomputer's keyboard): I can't believe it... I can't stomach it, Diana; to witness my flesh and blood murdering someone and walking away from it beside him. My own son...gone.

Diana: You think I don't understand what you're going through? My daughter arrived on Themyscira and beat her sister to near death before Darkseid arrived to collect her as well, and Bruce isn't taking it any better; his son killed all of the Gotham's Villains before nearly killing Dick and Damian. He hasn't left the Batcave for weeks. (Stand up and walks over to the supercomputer) We should check on him.

[Diana pushes a few keys on the keyboard and the image of the Supercomputer changes: Bruce is sitting before his computer with his suit on but his mask off, his blue eyes are red from all the crying and his hair is a mess with bags under his eyes.]

Bruce (Low Voice): What do you want, Diana??

Diana: We haven't heard from you in weeks, Bruce; we wanted to see how you were holding up.

Bruce: What do you think? My sons are in critical condition, beaten to near-death by my youngest son. Everyone in Gotham knows that my son was the one who killed the villains thanks to the camera footage from Gotham when he killed the Joker and now no one trusts the Bat-Family...not that there's any use for us anyway.

Diana: We'll get them back, Bruce. Somehow.

Bruce (Shakes his head): No... No, we won't. They belong to Darkseid now because of us; we're the reason they will never return.

Clark: What do you mean, Bruce?

Bruce: Do you know why they joined him? Why they did what they did? Because of us - because we didn't give them the love and attention they craved. The love and attention they needed to grow. Darkseid came before them and gave them the parental love and praise that they needed... we failed them as parents and he successes as a father.

[Diana opened her mouth to protest but her mind flashed with memories of all the times that [Wonder Daughter] tried to get her attention but she brushed her aside in favor of her elder sister. Clark knew that Bruce was telling them the truth - he lost his son because of his neglect and Jon's Favor.]

[Just then - the alarm went off a Batman's Image was pushed into the corner while an image of one of the cameras in Metropolis showed the people screaming and running away from a figure slowly marching down the center of the street with Parademons flying behind the figure. Clark looked closely at the face of the figure and looked wide-eyed at Kol-El's Face as the young man blasted a car to the side with his laser vision as the Parademons screeched behind him.]

Clark: KOL-EL!

[Without a word, Clark turned on his heel and flew out of the watchtower and began heading to Metropolis to confront his son. Diana was about to call when she heard Batman talking to Commissioner Gordon.]

Gordon: Batman! We have trouble in Gotham! [Bat-Son Bat Name] is back with some freaky aliens and he's destroying Gotham!

Bruce (Pulls up his mask): I'm on my way!!!

[Diana watches Bruce runs to the Bat Mobile and jumps into it before driving out of the Batcave. Diana was standing there when her eyes widened.]

Diana (Thinking): 'If [Super-Son] & [Bat-Daughter] are attacking Gotham and Metropolis...then.... (Outloud) THEMYSCIRA!!!

#batman #superman #wonder woman #dc

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ameba-from-space · 2 years

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I had an amazing fanfic idea while listening to what could have been from arcane, but sadly I suck at writing, but I still really wanted to share it so here we are.

Okay the story goes like this, Jason as red hood has just recently started to re enter the family, but things are still a bit fragile and jason gets in fights with almost everyone in the family, especially bruce and tim, so one day during patrol jason is suddenly hit by villain of the week's weapon and pass out, the last thing he hear is his family screaming for him.

Jason wakes up in his room in the manor, but something is different, his room no longer looks like the childhood room that bruce kept preserved ever since his death, this room looks like it belong to someone much older, did bruce give Jason's room to someone else? Jason immediately gets up to leave cause he doesn't want to spend more time in the mansion cause surely bruce was coming to scold him for being careless on patrol, that's when he realizes he is not wearing any of his RH gear, and for some reason he feels shorter? When he looks in the mirror he realizes that he changed, his white stripe is gone, he is smaller, his face is the same but not as full, and he has considerably less muscle mass than he had before, that's when he suddenly hears bruce call him for breakfast, but he calls him by a name he hasn't heard in years, Jay-lad, Jason has never been more confused.

Anyways Jason will proceed from here to discover that there is definitely something wrong with his family, for starters Bruce is acting all nice to him, asking him how is college, calling him son and hugging him, Dick calls Jason little wing and ruffles his hair, Cass smiles warmly at him, steph and Duke ask him if he wants to hang out latter, the demon kid is there too, but he is actually smiling and he has yet to make a single insult towards Jason. Everything is very fucking weird, but there is something missing, where the fuck is tim? No one in the family seems to remember someone named Tim and they ask him if he is okay, Jason let's go for now cause he doesn't want them to figure out he is not their Jason, he does not want to alert them in case this is some complicated plot to kill him.

Throughout the day Jason finds out what is so different now, Jason never died, Bruce reached him in Ethiopia before Joker could do anything more than a few hits, he finished high school and started studying literature in Gotham U, he has taken over a new mantle as a hero passing robin to Damian, he is smaller because of his childhood malnutrition, something the pit had fixed after he was revived, but the biggest change he found was, undoubtedly, tim drake is dead.

Jason never died, therefore tim never became robin, that also meant that tim never stopped stalking batman and robin through the dangerous streets of gotham. Two years ago Tim Drake had been involved in a mugging in crime alley, the mugger panicked and stabbed tim in the gut, he died, his body was only found the next day, his camera smashed to bits, the drakes did a short and private funeral, they left for work the very next day. That was the last anyone ever heard of tim drake. Jason had no idea what to think.

This is Jason's perfect future, this is all he has ever wanted, this is what he should have had, the future that clown took away from him, Jason goes to college, Jason is loved by his family, loved by his dad, and Jason never died. Jason is now faced with a choice, either he figures out to turn things back to normal and goes back to his miserable life or he stays, let's tim die, and he gets to keep his happy life. Jason has to choose between his dream and tim, and he has never felt more lost before.

Hooray🎉, here it is! What do ya'll think? I have some more ideas for this but this is way to long, everyone feel free to add to the story

#batman #bruce wayne #batfam #dc #dc comics #batdad #robin #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #tw death

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ty-talks-comics · 5 years

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Best of DC: Week of July 31st, 2019

Best of this Week: Batman: Last Knight on Earth #2 - Scott Snyder, Greg Capullo, Jonathan Glapion, FCO Plascencia and Tom Napolitano

The last case Batman will ever solve, might just be his most terrifying.

Beginning with Batman confronting an older Joe Chill in the past over the dead child in Crime Alley that looks eerily similar to Bruce. Our hero kind of surprises and disarms him by removing all of the weapons he’s hidden around his apartment. Chill seems to have been expecting him, preparing what he calls an “end of an era feast” for Bruce, implying he knows his identity. To make matters even more interesting, he insinuates that he didn’t even kill the Waynes for Marth pearls and makes it seem like there was an even larger plan afoot than anyone realized.

Cutting back to the Nightmare future, Batman and Joker’s Head are taken by surprise as a Speed Force Storm tears through the desert. Never let it be said that Greg Capullo hasn’t been improving his skills at body horror because the tornado is terrifying. Consisting of the constantly shifting, twisting and stretched bodies of Barry Allen, Bart Allen, Jay Garrick and possibly others, the faces scream and cry for Bruce to help them. It’s a shocking and unsettling sight as one can almost hear the deafening cries of atom splitting agony that they’re going through. The deep red of the storm doesn’t help as it just makes things FAR more threatening than they need to be. Bruce and Joker sit in a cave for safety while Bruce laments that there is absolutely nothing that he can do to save them.

The pair continue on, hang gliding through the air, crossing over a base named Fort Waller. Joker tells Batman that originally it was the last bastion of hope, where Mr. Terrific, Dr. Sivana, Ivo and others could combine their knowledge with the powers of the new avatars of the Green and Red to repel those incensed by Luthor. Batman asks him what happens and Joker’s narration ends as they watch the battle. Unknown Soldiers fighting abominations of the Red in a hellish battle of blood and fire until a Swamp Thing appears from the crimson dust of their fight, no longer appearing to have any faculties or emotion other than: KILL.

The tone shifts as they reach an area known as the Plains of Solitude, seeming a mass of crystalline structures similar to Superman’s secret base. The cool blues of this area offer something of a safety in a book that has otherwise been overbearingly tense since it began. It doesn’t help that Joker’s been doing variations of “can I be Robin, are we there yet, and knock knock jokes the entire time. Bruce snaps that he could never be Robin because Robin was a good guy and who in this world was still like that? Pods shaped like Superman’s baby rocket start landing close to Bruce and Joker before the pair are saved by… Superman?

Or so we think, this “very talkative” (end sarcasm) Superman leads the pair to a farmhouse in the middle of the plains where a surprisingly alive and potentially insane Lex Luthor greets them. Batman, furious at the state of this world demands to know what happened, what did Luthor do? Luthor answers that he had a debate with Superman. What makes this so interesting is that, Luthor says that he knows that he should have lost. The stakes were such that, the loser would be impaled by spike of Kryptonite and Luthor, having almost crapped himself a speech mostly using platitudes from others in his own words, didn’t hold a candle to Ka-El… but in the end, Superman ends up skewered and the world goes to hell with him.

It begs the question of, what happened? Did all of the people just side with Luthor on impulse? Did something happen to sway them or was someone else manipulating things? Everything is speculation. Things are cut short, however as Bane and Scarecrow show up to punish Luthor and bring Batman to their new God, Omega. Bane appears to be absolutely rotting with venom as his veins are green and his skin is pale. Scarecrow looks absolutely scraggly with long, gnarled fingers with syringes at the end of his fingers. Scarecrow has poisoned the Superman clone and forces him to try and break the Bat.

Suddenly, as Superman lifts Batman above his head, a sword pierces his chest as it’s revealed that Wonder Woman has returned to save the Caped Crusader. The two are told to run away by Luthor, to save the world as he opens a portal for them and is summarily torn apart by other infected Superman Clones.

We see the full extent of the utter destruction Luthor’s actions have caused as they land on the cloak of The Spectre. Wonder Woman tells Batman that the fighting eventually spilled over and destroyed both Heaven and Hell. It only makes sense, doesn’t it? The forces of magic are very powerful in the DC Universe. How much trouble would it take for a Mordru or Neron to tangle with Doctor Fate or Zatanna, culminating in the ruination of the afterlife, damning everyone to a non-existence at the end of everything?

They enter the cloak and take a ride down the River Styx. Diana tells Bruce that the voices of the dead will be calling out to him for sending them there. Capullo stuns with a double page spread of many of DCs biggest heroes, showing Batman the sheer weight of what his as-of-yet unknown role in Luthor’s scheme was. There are far too many to name, but I will say that I appreciate Capullo putting Kyle Rayner among those in the front. His deaths in many alt-stories will always irk me, but I do like seeing him recognized and put higher than Hal Jordan or even John Stewart.

Things take an even darker turn as Alfred shows up among the dead and Batman almost climbs out of the little boat, knowing that he just saw Alfred not too long ago and he and Wonder Woman make it to the real Gotham City with a cliffhanger and a surprising reveal at the end.

Last Knight on Earth pulls no punches when it comes to depicting a desolate world where Doom wins. I want to say that it’s almost dour to the point of being almost being hopeless and that’s exactly what I love. I adore how much is being packed into this story, how many references to the greater DC universe we’re getting. Capullo’s art is probably the best it has been in years and the quality of the writing is right on part with Dark Knights: Metal. It’s a righteous trip as Batman lugs the annoying head of the Joker around like a planet hopping adventure. It’s really fun and very dark.

---------------------------------------------------

The world needs more Swamp Thing stories.

Runner Up: Justice League Dark Annual #1 - James Tynion IV, Ram V, Guillem March, Arif Prianto and Rob Leigh

This annual was dark, far darker than most of the Justice League Dark tales so far because of how self contained it was and the sheer weight of the situation therein. Sure, it wasn't a world ending cataclysm like the one they just stopped, but that doesn't make it any less horrible. I'd never heard of Ram V before, but their storytelling, combined with Guillem March's art makes me feel like I've been pulled back into the old days of Vertigo.

Magic is broken. After Wonder Woman and Zatanna used the Ruby of Life to repair the damage they did to magic after defeating the Lords of Order, magic itself is repairing itself, but in a manner that throws the old rules out of the window.

Consequently, the Parliament of Trees has been destroyed and now Swamp Thing has no one to answer to as the new Parliament of Flowers is seeking a new champion. After confronting Constantine about coming on as a consultant for the League, the con-man convinces Swamp Thing to go on the search for the new Avatar before he loses his humanity like Swampy did. Swamp thing tries to act like he doesn't care, but goes off to find the man.

The story descends into something of a tragedy as we're introduced to Oleander Sorrel, a flower botanist, and his wife Natasha.

What makes this story so great is that, like the best Swamp Thing stories, it focuses on other characters and their own personal situations. The pair suffer in a broken marriage after the death of their son which causes Natasha to leave Oleander and himself delving deeper into his work, later resulting in his death. He becomes the Avatar of Flowers, but refuses to let go of his humanity after Swamp Thing tries to convince him that he is no longer a man.

He seeks out his wife and watches over her until Jason Woodrue, a very old DC villain that really hasn't been seen since the early days of The New 52, whispers in Oleanders ear. Oleander listens and suddenly a boy that looks very close to their son appears at the door. Natasha is happy, then another child appears and another until Natasha is absolutely blind with love for her new kids.

But not all gifts are good. There's no way that Woodrue doesn't get something out of this himself. There's always an underlying plot and Swamp Thing manages to uncover what really happened to Oleander. The fire that killed him was actually a pool of caustic that he laid in his flower bed and kills himself in. Oleander did die in the pool, but his memory lived on in the flowers that he planted. This revelation stuns Oleander and the children he created out of flowers begin to dissipate. He grows weary, knowing that Swamp Thing was right and Woodrue manages to convince him to rest for a while before feasting upon his flower flesh, regaining his own connection to The Green.

This annual definitely fit the title. It was Dark, not only from a storytelling standpoint, but also visually. Natasha’s post crying face was heart wrenching to see and Gullem March squeezed every bit of emotion out of it that he could. Her lips quivered, her eye makeup ran just a bit and there was a hopelessness that could be felt. Oleander’s transformation was a beautiful kind of macabre with his appearance, composed entirely of flowers, looking very sinewy and skeletal at the same time. Colors are very warm, juxtaposed against an ever growing sense of dread that culminated in the most haunting scene of Oleander growing more and more flower children. The shot is perfect as Oleander is shown to be a hapless man whose only intent is to make his wife happy, but his methods are horrifying almost wrong.

When the children begin to disappear following the revelation, light is shown on them while the background remains dark. Their petals waft away with the night winds as Natasha has to watch in horror, likely to be absolutely broken by the experience of losing her kids. Woodrue eating Oleander afterwards, however, is brutal. The color shifts to a deep red and Woodrue furiously munches on the flowers, gnawing and tearing his way into Oleander’s body and emerging as a new creature unto himself.

I haven’t been able to find anything about this Ram V person, but I want to read more of their work. This book was absolutely stunning and I hope that it does well enough to warrant another Swamp Thing mini-series or full run. Amidst the cancellation of the show after just one season, it’s definitely something the world needs more of. This story was chilling, well paced and had a great focus on someone else while keeping it’s main star tangential as he should be in things like these. This is a definite high recommend from me.

#comics #dc #dc comics #batman #last knight on earth #the joker #joker #scott snyder #greg capullo #lex luthor #omega #wonder woman #justice league dark #swamp thing #ram v #guillem march #floronic man

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geniusgub · 5 years

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told you so//tom holland

warnings: fainting, hospitals, IV, malnourishment, talk of Heath Ledger and his death, sad boi Tom

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inspired by tom's insta story where he thanked fans for his teen choice award win

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Tom is always dedicated to his work and will do whatever he can to make the audience believe his character. He works endless hours on his lines, on understanding his character, and getting into the mindset of his role. But something he always dedicated a large amount of time to is his weight.

Spider-Man is an incredibly physical role. Tom was on set and doing stunts every day. He needed the muscle to support that, and he had to keep his weight constant so that his suit fit him and he didn't cause a giant problem for the wardrobe department.

But for Cherry, he's playing a veteran that is riddled with PTSD. He studied up on the disorder and discovered the effect it has on the human body, and decided that he needed to lose some of his muscle and drop some weight.

He didn't tell me this flat out though. I noticed him eating less and less over a week, after a particularly long and in depth production meeting. He decreased breakfast from a full meal to just a protein shake, and refused dinner on most days and replaced it with a workout at the gym. To say this new diet scares me is an understatement.

I'm not an actor. I don't completely understand his world. But I've been dating Tom for a few years, and I know enough to recognize that weight changing is a common practice in Hollywood. But just because it's common doesn't mean that it's right. I've heard horror stories in the media of certain roles burning out actors and ruining their lives, and that is the last thing I want to happen to Tom.

I watch as Tom comes sauntering into the kitchen, passing me with nothing but a kiss to my cheek and a whispered good morning, his voice gravely with sleep. I'm up early to study for an upcoming exam, papers already sprawled out on the island.

I sneakily watch as Tom pulls out ingredients such as protein powder, bananas, and peanut butter, then the blender. "Are you, uh-" I huff out a breath, looking down at my textbook, trying to make the conversation more nonchalant, "gonna have more than just a shake?"

"Don't think so," Tom murmurs as he starts slicing the banana. "I'm on this diet still, you know that." I open my mouth to respond but chose not to say anything, just shaking my head and deciding to drop the subject again. "What?" Tom quips after a moment of silence. "You have something else to say. I know you. Don't lie, you've got something to say."

I drop my highlighter and swing around on my barstool to face him. "Tommy, I'm just nervous about this diet, okay? I know that it's working and you're losing weight and muscle like you want to, but I'm just nervous how this is gonna affect your body and your health in the future. The last thing I want to happen is for this to ruin you."

Tom drops the banana in his hand and rushes over, placing his hands on my cheeks. "This isn't gonna ruin me. I'm okay, yeah? I'm completely fine. I'm just twenty pounds lighter. That's all."

My eyes widen and I grab onto his thinning wrists. "You've lost twenty pounds? Baby, that's too much. That's way too much! You told me ten pounds at first and I said that was too much, but twenty? That's too much!"

"It's not too much. I'm healthy, I promise." Tom swears, leaning his head forward and kissing my forehead. "We're only a week into shooting and the Russo's said everything looks great."

"I don't give a shit what the Russo's think. I care about you and your health-"

Tom huffs out a breath and drops his hands. "I am fine. You don't need to worry about me. My trainer says I'm fine, the medic on set says I'm fine, everyone agrees that I'm fine. I've only got another two months of this diet and then I'll have to bulk up for the next Avengers movie and I'll be back to the way I was before." He turns around and quickly finishes off his protein shake, putting it in a cup and closing the lid. "I'll see you tonight, okay? Good luck on your exam, I know you'll crush it."

He's kissing me and he's out the door before I can say anything else. Okay, so, that conversation didn't go anywhere close to what I had planned.

I pack up my books and head off to class for my exam, which is actually quite difficult. Or maybe I was just too busy thinking (worrying) about Tom to focus on a test. I guess I'll never know.

After my exam, I hurry off to my study of human behaviors class, hoping that today's topic will distract me from worrying about how my boyfriend is doing on set. But, of course, that hope is crushed when my professor pulls up a picture of Heath Ledger.

"Today we're going to be talking about Heath Ledger, and how his preparation for the role of the Joker effected him. Some believe the intense preparation even added to his death." She saunters around the front of the room without a care in the world, babbling on and on about how Ledger got into his character by locking himself in a hotel room and keeping a dark diary, filled with quotes, pictures, and his lines.

"Ledger was so deep into his character that he turned to medication to help him do things as simple as sleeping. Maggie Gyllenhaal even said that she could barely look at him while filming, and the crew was too nervous to be around him between takes because he would still be in character. So I pose this question to you all, did his dedication to his role and the extreme preparation for this role lead to his death?"

Oh god. Please no. This is exactly what I don't need to hear right now. Not today. Not while Tom is filming Cherry and I can't be with him at all times. Not when I get one text a day from him since he's so busy shooting scenes. Not ever.

Multiple hands shoot up to respond to the professors question. She picks a bubbly blonde in the front row. "His preparation definitely led to his death. He pushed himself too far and he couldn't handle the pressure of the movie, the pressure of stardom, the pressure of the Joker being so engrained in his mind. He couldn't shake it when filming ended, and it truly made him become some version of a psychopath."

Another student butts in. "Yeah, it's so obvious. He turned to drugs because he couldn't handle the role."

One other adds his opinion. "It's like Natalie Portman in Black Swan. She had to lose all this weight so she ate almonds and carrots for, like, months on end. And then she was in rehearsals all day and she dislocated a rib, but kept training. She said she thought she was gonna die on most days. It's very possible for actors to get so wrapped up in role that they lose a bit of reality. I totally think Heath Ledger died because of the Joker."

With that last student, I pick up my backpack and laptop and go stomping out of the lecture hall, choking back tears. I dramatically throw my belongings into my car and speed off, wiping my cheeks and trying to keep my emotions together.

I park in the first spot I see and jump out of my car, heading off to Tom's trailer, hoping that he'll be there, although the chances are slim. I've only been to Tom's trailer for Cherry once, and it was the first week of him filming. It's been lived in now, so I'm sure it looks quite different.

I hadn't expected his trailer to be a complete mess. At home, Tom is a little messy but always cleans up after himself. He clearly hasn't cleaned or let anyone clean up after him. There's clothes and shoes all over the floor and furniture, the sheets are messed up on the bed like he's been tossing and turning while sleeping, and the kitchen area is a complete wreck. There's a pile of papers and books on the coffee table that I make the terrible decision to investigate.

Having PTSD just messes up your whole life. I couldn't even get the energy to clean my house, or even my room, or my kitchen, or anything. I would throw things around and I would break things and just leave them. PTSD left me completely unable to function as a human. I couldn't sleep. How would I be expected to clean up after myself when I'm falling asleep standing?

Of course, his trailer like this is to keep himself in the character. I wonder if his costars can stand to look at him between takes.

The trailer door opens a moment later and I'm wishing it's Tom, but it's Harrison coming in, nonchalantly kicking a shoe aside to get to the fridge. "Oh hey, didn't know you were coming by. Tom didn't mention it."

"Is Tom gonna die?" I blurt out, my eyes pooling up with tears. Harrison's eyes widen at the wild question. "I'm scared he's gonna die. He's so into this character and he's gonna die, isn't he?"

"Oh my gosh, breathe, love. Tom isn't gonna die. Where are you getting this from?" Harrison takes a few steps closer to me, but it doesn't comfort me in any way.

"He's not eating, Harrison. I've seen him make food but I haven't seen him actually eat anything in almost a month. He's dealing with this disgusting trailer every day. I barely ever see him because he comes home and either goes straight to sleep or he's out at the gym until I'm asleep."

"Maybe you should talk to him." Harrison suggests. "Honestly, I'm worried about him too and I think you're the only person he'll listen to. You just gotta learn to keep your cool." He places his hands on my shoulders. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? I think you're just as tired as he is because you're stressing about it. I'll make sure that Tom goes straight home instead of going out, okay?"

I throw my arms around Harrison's waist in a much needed hug. "Thank you, Haz. You're the best."

"Yeah, I know I am." Harrison jokes with a shrug, letting me go. "Go, get out."

///

Tom doesn't come home for a while, not until I'm laying in bed, eyelids fluttering, ready to sleep. But the bedroom door creaks open, letting in a little bit of light. I listen as Tom bustles around the room to pull off his clothes, leaving him in just boxers for bed. He climbs into bed beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I sigh contently, melting into his embrace.

"How was your day?" I murmur, sleep slurring my words.

"It was fine. Go to sleep, you're exhausted." Tom whispers, placing lazy kisses to the back of my neck. "I love you."

///

The next morning is normal. Tom wakes up before me and takes a shower, leaving me alone in bed. But I get up and throw on a comfy sweater, preparing for my day of classes. Tom is heading downstairs as I'm pulling on my leggings, presumably for breakfast.

But just as I'm finishing brushing out my hair, I hear a relatively loud thump from downstairs. I immediately pause, listening for a yelled sorry from Tom, just anything.

"Tom?" I shout, creeping towards the open bedroom door. When I don't hear anything in response, I panic. I run downstairs and into the kitchen, finding the worst sight I could think of.

Tom is unconscious on the floor, a spot of blood on his forehead, and a whole slew of food on the stove. I drop to my knees, pushing Tom's hair out of his forehead. I reach onto the island and grab Tom's phone, unlocking it and dialing 999. I babble off to the operator that my boyfriend fainted when I was in the other room and I don't know exactly what happened, but that he's unconscious. She promises that an ambulance is two minutes away, that I should keep calm, and not move him.

I put the phone on speaker as I wait, setting it on the floor. And just as I do, Tom starts to stir, his eyebrows scrunching up and his head starting to swivel. I lean over him and place a hand on his cheek, forcing a smile, despite his closed eyes. "Hi, sweetheart. Hi, baby." I coo softly, my thumb rubbing across the skin. "Stay right where you are, okay?"

"What happened?" He murmurs, words slurred.

"I think you fainted. There's an ambulance coming, just don't move, baby boy, you'll be okay." I instruct him.

"Work." He whispers, head falling to the side.

"Don't worry about work. I'll call someone later on and tell them. You don't worry about that right now, okay? Just relax, I've got you."

The paramedics come knocking at the front door a moment later, sending me running over to answer it. I lead the paramedics over to where Tom is still laying in the kitchen, watching the paramedics lift him onto the stretcher and strap him in.

Tom reaches for me, making me rush over to his side. I place a hand on his cheek, moving my thumb against his soft skin, giving him a smile. "I'm right here, Tommy. Do you want me to call Harrison, or your mum or dad? Anyone?" Tom just nods, so I assume he wants someone. "Do you want me to come in the ambulance with you?" He nods again. "Okay, then I'm gonna go get some stuff and get right in there with you." He nods a third time, eyes closing all the way now.

I rush around the house in just a few seconds, pulling on a sweatshirt. I collect a backpack with a sweats for Tom, our wallets, our phones, chargers, money, and whatever I can find that we could need.

Tom is just being loaded into the ambulance when I go to lock the door and jump inside. I'm exiled to the corner while the paramedics start working on Tom, leaving me to send out texts to his family to tell them what's going on.

I'm with him every step of the way. I'm there as he rides to the hospital, I'm there as he gets brought right into a room, and I'm there as a doctor comes in to see him. But I'm pushed out a moment later to fill out paperwork, and I have to be separated from Tom.

I rush my way through the paperwork so I can get back to Tom. He would never leave me alone if I was in this situation, and I don't plan to do that to him. So I return the clipboard to a nurse and she leads me back to a different waiting room.

"You can just stay here until the doctor comes around to get you." I nod but have to hold in my groan. I just want to be with Tom.

I sit down and decide to check my phone, finding a few texts. Nikki and Dom says that the whole family is on their way, and Harrison says him and Tuwaine are leaving their golf outing to get here, but it's going to take a while.

I'm not sure how much time passes from when I get to the waiting room and when a doctor comes. Maybe it was ten minutes, maybe it was an hour. I wouldn't know. But a doctor comes around to get me, thankfully refraining from calling out Tom's name and avoiding any possible fan run-ins.

I jump up and rush toward him, smiling nervously. The doctor asks again if I'm here for Tom, to which I nod, and he leads me away from the waiting room.

"So, it seems that he's very malnourished." The doctor tells me, which is no surprise at all. "He is severely underweight and is also very dehydrated. Do you know why this is happening?"

We stop outside of his room and continue talking. "He's preparing for a movie role. His character has PTSD so he decided to lose a bit of weight. I told him it was too much but he swore he was fine."

"Do you know how much he lost?" I tell him twenty pounds and then a little about Tom's diet, and I can tell but his surprised face that Tom is in for some deep shit. "Wow, that's a lot for someone his age and weight. Basically, his body can't handle the work that he's making it do. If he's working on a film set and he's not eating properly, or at all, his body is going to give out because it can't support him. For now, I've got him on an IV drip to hydrate him and I'll come back in a little while to talk to you two about what to do from here."

"Okay, thank you so much. I can go in now?" The doctor nods and then heads off.

Tom's eyes are closed when I enter the room, but I can't quite tell if he's sleeping. Even still, there's a nurse taking his vitals who smiles at me, quickly finishing up and leaving the room.

Tom stirs when I sit in the chair beside his bed, scrunching up his crooked nose. I grab onto his free hand and move my thumb against his knuckles, taking a deep breath. "I can tell you're awake." I murmur, the tiniest smile on my face. "I know you too well."

The corners of Tom's mouth lift up in the tiniest, his eyes fluttering open slowly. "Hi." He mumbles, the word slurred.

"Hi, sweet boy." I keep my voice sweet and smooth. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad." Tom spits out, sighing. His eyes are squinting and he looks like he's in pain.

"Does your head hurt? The lights hurt?" He nods, so I stand and turn off the light, watching the wrinkles in his forehead smoothen out. "Did the doctor check you for a concussion?"

"I-I don't know."

I let go of Tom's hand again and poke my head out of the hospital room, flagging down a nurse. I tell her my concern and she promises to get a doctor in soon, then goes on her way.

"A doctor is coming, Tom." I take my seat again and lace our fingers.

A silence falls over us for a moment, but the quiet makes me more aware of the way Tom's hands are shaking.

"Are you feeling okay?" I whisper. "You're shaking. I just wanna make sure you're-"

"I'm sorry." And suddenly he's breaking down in tears, sobbing loudly. "You were right, I was wrong."

"Shh, sweetheart." I coo, moving to sit on the side of his bed. "Let's not talk about that right now. Right now, just relax and-"

"I don't wanna be here. I wanna go home." He whines, hand squeezing mine as tight as he can, which isn't much at all. He's far too weak.

"I know you do. But you've gotta be here so the doctors can help you get better so you can get home and get back to work. So let's not cry," I wipe my thumbs over his cheeks, "and just relax as much as you can. You can watch tv, close your eyes, so whatever. A doctor is hopefully coming soon to help you."

Tom looks at me with huge puppy eyes, rimmed red from tears. "You're not gonna leave me, right?"

A smile appears on my cheeks, but it feels forced. "Of course I'm not gonna leave you, pretty boy. I'll be right by your side this whole time and for the rest of your life, you know that."

His lips push out in a pout. "You can still call me pretty boy when I'm like this?"

"You'll always be my pretty boy." I leave forward and press a few kisses to his cheek, hopefully calming him down a bit.

The doctor comes back into the room a few moments later, and Tom forces me to hold his hand while the doctor inspects him again, this time for a concussion.

"Yep, your girlfriend is right, you've got a mild concussion. I'd assume you hit your head on something when you fainted, whether it was a cabinet or the floor. It's not too bad though, you should be fine in two or three weeks. But even still, I wanna keep you for the rest of the day. I know it's early, so we'll see how you're feeling later and see if you need to stay the night or you can go. We've got you on an IV to give you some vitamins and some essential things you've been missing out on over the past few weeks. You know where the nurses button is, if you need anything. I'll see you two later."

///

The rest of the day passes incredibly slowly. Tom's family shows up just a little bit after the doctor leaves. They stay for an hour or two, just to keep Tom entertained, but he's being very quiet and really only wants to talk to me. But his family is babying him and talking to him like a child. And as much as I do that to him when I'm consoling him, he absolutely hates when his family does it.

And then Harrison and Tuwaine show up and wreak havoc. I know it's for entertainment purposes and to make Tom laugh. They show up and throw a backpack onto Tom's bed, what's filled with my laptop, smuggled in fast food, some extra clothes for Tom, and a handful of dvd's. Then they loudly make their way around Tom's room, inspecting every single thing that is on the walls or in the relatively empty cabinets. I'm tempted to kick them out so they don't get in trouble, but Tom is laughing and his spirits are lifted, so I don't bother.

By the time a nurse is coming around with lunch for Tom, he's starving. I can hear his stomach rumbling, but that's a sound I've grown accustomed to.

Tom pushes around his food, not interested in the bland hospital food. "I really want what Haz and Tuwaine brought." He eyes the McDonald's bag on the other side of the room. "I don't want this shit."

"I don't know if your stomach can handle that. You haven't had fast food in months and I don't know if that's good for you-"

"Please, baby, I'm so hungry and this looks terrible." Tom begs, pushing the tray of food away from him.

I easily comply, not wanting to put up a fight with him when he's feeling so tortured at the moment. I open the bag and find a ridiculous amount of food, more than me and Tom could ever eat.

"God, these idiots must have bought the whole store out. What do you want-burger, fries, nuggets?"

"Yes." He responds, making me roll my eyes.

"You're impossible." I pull out a small fry, a cheeseburger, and six piece nugget and hand it over to him, watching him smile happily. "You're nuts. Please eat slowly and drink a lot of water. I don't want you getting sick and throwing up."

"Can we watch a movie too?" He shoves a nugget in his mouth and gestures to my laptop. I agree, pulling up Netflix and starting a random movie, setting my computer on the bed.

Thankfully, Tom doesn't have to stay the night. He's built up enough strength through the IV, food, and relaxation for the doctor to feel good about him going home. So he gets out of his hospital gown and into some sweats, signing discharge papers and wobbling out of the hospital room. And since I rode in the ambulance with Tom, Harrison comes to pick us up and drive us home.

"Looking a bit better, mate." Harrison says, giving Tom a bro hug when we get to the car.

"Thanks for picking us up." Tom mumbles before jumping into the backseat.

"Thank you so much, Haz. You're the best." I give him a tight hug before sitting beside Tom in the backseat and heading home.

///

"Do you wanna go up to bed or stay on the couch?" I ask once we step inside, dropping our bags beside the door. Tessa is off at his parents house, so our house is silent.

"I wanna go shower, and then go to bed." He mumbles, taking the lead upstairs and hobbling into the connected bathroom. I collect him some fresh boxers and a tee shirt, putting them on the counter for him when he's done. I busy myself by changing the sheets and fixing up the bed, distracting myself from the craziness of the day.

"Babe!" Tom starts calling. "Baby!"

I panic, fearing the worst, rushing into the bathroom. "What? What's wrong?"

"Will you come in with me?" He asks like a child, pouting, his curls dripping over his forehead.

"I thought something was wrong." I groan, but begin stripping off my clothes anyways. I step into the warm water and sigh of relief, happy to wash away the stress of the day. I immediately wrap my arms around Tom's skinny waist, burying my face in his neck. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Yeah, me too." Tom sighs, hand running up and down my back gently. "Thank you for being there for me. You're the best girlfriend ever."

"Thanks." I chuckle with an eye roll. "I'm just glad you're home."

We finish up in the shower not long after, since being exposed to the warm water for too long could make Tom faint again. So we get dressed and crawl into bed, curling up under the cold duvet. I rest my head on Tom's chest and close my eyes, trying to drift off to sleep.

"You can say it now, you know?" Tom murmurs, lips ghosting over my forehead.

I smile softly, letting a beat pass. "I told you so."

#i dont know how to add a read below thing so sorry #reblog please!!!!#check out my wattpad #its @_obsessing #thanks for reading buddies

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 3 years

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Tell me a story about Kyle Fluge and his dragon being sad.

"It's like, I'm trying to teach them about things they'd never even heard of! Like the idea that you could tell some people were bad news because they didn't smile at strangers or take things personally! That kind of thing is apparently very important to these aliens, so I'm like, 'Yeah, I know I'm trying to get on that train right now, but it's the wrong train, dude!'"

Kyle Fluge could have said any of these things in the moment, but instead he stood in the midst of a group of people, all of whom wore black trench coats and black sunglasses. He knew, immediately, that they were, in fact, "bad news." They looked a little like the Joker, a little like the Joker who had just gotten out of prison and was on some kind of revenge mission.

"It's like, this guy's been here for like, eight, nine years, and he hasn't done any of the things I've done. He's never built a dragon. Like, I'm telling you guys, this guy doesn't want to do any of the things that I do! That's why I'm trying to get him on my dragon."

There was a loud, metallic crash, and everyone jumped backwards.

"What the fuck?" shouted one of the Joker people.

"Who the fuck would do this?" shouted another one.

Kyle ran to the center of the room, where the crash had come from, and found a group of dragons, three of them, standing there motionless. The only dragon he'd ever built had been in high school, and that was just because the whole school got together once a week and played DragonMaker. Kyle had no idea how to make a dragon.

A third crash, louder than the others, hit him in the back, and he turned around to find a big machine with a spinning wheel of gears at its center.

There was a fourth crash.

"Oh my god," one of the Joker people said. "Is he dead?"

"What?" said another.

"He's fucking dead!"

Everyone in the room was staring at the dragon at the center of the machine. A black light was shining on its back. As Kyle got closer, the light went away, and it was clear that the dragon had a hole in its back.

The machine was full of little metal rods and pieces and machines. A piece of metal was sticking out of one of the dragon's eyes, and some kind of machinery was built into its mouth, and there was something that looked sort of like a small, robotic arm. There was a lot of wires on the ground, where the dragon's back had been.

Kyle remembered his dream, of taking the dragon that was built for the story to the edge of the world. He'd built its back for it, in the middle of the night, one summer night when he couldn't sleep.

His sister, who was five or six at the time, had just come back from her summer job, and told him that in China they built dragons out of coal to protect their cities. She was like, "I'm going to China, and I'm going to buy a dragon." Then, about a year later, he'd gotten the job at the factory that was going to turn his ideas into reality. So for a while, every night in the summer, he'd just built dragons in his head. He remembered being very nervous one night, and feeling very ashamed of himself. But, it was the night when his sister had got the job -- he had to build something for her, too!

That dragon was built for the story to the edge of the world, though, not a kid, or some little kid who really didn't know what a dragon was. Kyle was used to the dragon-making thing, he felt like he was supposed to be doing it! It's not like he was giving a lecture to these aliens. He just built dragons to show what you could do with all these cool things you had available to you, and he felt like he was supposed to do that. It would have been okay if the aliens didn't take it so personally!

There were people in the group of aliens, a few of them were wearing white shirts, but most of them were wearing black clothes like the Joker guy, black T-shirts with white lightning coming out of them. It was a pretty standard alien outfit. They were all standing around Kyle, looking up at him.

One of the aliens put down its helmet, and Kyle recognized the guy who had done all the yelling. It was the one who had asked the Joker guy whether he was dead, and the one who had said it was "fucking dead."

The one called the Joker guy, the Joker guy, stepped forward.

"Did you build this thing?" he asked. His voice was high-pitched and kind of squeaky.

Kyle shook his head.

"Do you build dragons for kids at work?" he asked.

He was trying to make things easier for himself, but the Joker guy just looked at him. Then, without another word, he picked up a big, long, metal object with little red lights on the end of it. He held it up as he walked toward the dragons. There were two red lights on it, and Kyle realized -- "You're going to stick those things in the dragon's eyes. Are you sure?"

The Joker guy didn't answer. He walked over to the one on the left, which was still standing on the ground, and stabbed the red light in through the eye hole. It didn't look like he was going to be able to fit it in the hole, so he picked it up by the handle, and he held it in his hand, with the red light pointing in at the dragons, and all of them started to turn. The sound it made was an eerie, high-pitched wail -- not the sound of a dragon moving, but of the sound of one of the alien dragons moving inside a computer.

Then the sound cut off, and there was no sound at all, just silence. The one on the left opened its mouth, as if to speak, then closed it again.

"So that's the dragon," the Joker guy said.

There was a loud noise, something like a muffled gunshot, and the three dragons were flying away from the room, fast. A black light flashed above the door, and the door slammed shut.

The Joker guy turned around to face the rest of the aliens, who all looked confused and angry.

"They've been turned off, that's not a dragon," he said to them. "That's an off switch."

#admiral-craymen

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