hoodedwing
oh my goodness gracious!
nikki || DC enthusiast || ao3
91 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
prakerinsmkmakassar
WA 0888-474-7777 Prakerin PKL Magang SMK Makassar
timelesseffort
gardenoceanlove.
nyuz-blog
Untitled
be4real
hey i'm T
allaboardthevespa
Piacere Girolamo Trombetta
Text
it's interesting to me that torture just works to us, as a literary device. It's everywhere in movies and stories and whatnot, from big-budget dramas to little grindhouse short stories. It fits neatly into the requirements of plot: character doesn't want to offer information, Gets Tortured, has to offer information.
the issue with this is that it isn't how it works.
torture is a display of power. It fouls interrogation, this is known; a person being tortured will tell you whatever you want to hear to make it stop, which is more often than not a lie, made up on the spot, or if the truth an incomplete and useless version of it. It isn't generally done for information's sake anyway, but as a form of what the ancient Greeks called hybris, the violent exhibition of your power over another person.
This is, every once in a great while, done right in fiction, but it's a challenge to write vs. the idea that it's a shortcut to one character revealing plot-critical information to another. Pretty much every form of torture works this way, even the ones that are legally permissible. Psychological torment or physical discomfort also produce an animalistic desire to escape harm and foul interrogation. The forms of torture the cops can do? The cops do it not to gain information (or if they think it will, they're lying to themselves) but because it makes them feel powerful.
There's probably a master's thesis in it for somebody studying the rise of torture as a plot device since the beginning of the war on terror and the contemporaneous development of the Broken Windows theory of policing. I'm not really aware of any similar level of disconnect between what Works in fiction and what happens in real life!
26K notes
·
View notes
Text
They went to Karaoke 🎤
.
Inspired by @/ jellibeenart ‘s on instagram!
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
oh boy this reblog is a reminder that I still haven’t written the fic/continuation for it :O. I swear I would, just let me find my brain.
Damian’s Violin
The violin was made for Damian, carefully crafted with exquisite wood embellishments. It screamed elegance and poise. It was something the Al-Ghuls were proud of because everything they did spoke volumes. Their robes with detailed embroidery, flecked with gold and dark green to match their eyes and kohl for lashes.
Talia loved the violin. She called it a gift, a must-have for an Al-Ghul. Poetic justice came in the form of haunting melodies. Damian was a baby when his mother would play the violin. Ra’s watched with interest, the way Damian responded to music and used it. Sometimes, he would hum a little when fighting, just to hype Damian up a bit. Sounds would come from the training room where Ra’s showed the future heir his tricks and skill. Talia would stand in the doorway, making sure Ra’s doesn’t overdo it and leave Damian’s fights dependent on a specific tempo
Everytime Ra’s wasn’t home, Talia would take Damian to Europe and show him symphonies. Showed him numbing orchestras and their chilling crescendo. Damian would be awed and Talia would smile, a gentle hand running through the curls in his hair. Damian grew up with Europe’s finest and it shows throughout his style.
When Damian bested his mother and won the ability to see his father, he was horrified to realize he had to pick between his parents. Talia left him with a kiss to the forehead (when Ra’s wasn’t looking) and gave Damian a specially designed case to keep the precious violin.
Upon seeing his father, eyes burning and vision blurring with tears, Damian clutched the violin a little more tighter than usual. Bruce noticed Damian’s hand with an increased tension and offered to lift the case but Damian vehemently refused. It was too raw, too fresh to let go.
Wayne Manor noted the introduction of melodies very late at night. Bruce noticed that after tucking Damian in for the night, a certain song would filter through chambers and high ceilings. A certain resonance would strike each of the hearts of the members. Alfred woke up at 2am to hear Tchaikovsky. Later that morning, he remarked it was better than most of the concerts he had been to. A faint red colored Damian’s cheeks and he quickly asserted it must have been a recording on repeat.
Cassandra hears the music and finds the tempo to start dancing, behind shut doors. She took out her ballet shoes again and wore. Danced her heart out, pirouette after pirouette. She spun faster and faster as everything tilted on their axis. She waits everyday for the music to come on, quietly.
That night, Achilles Come Down played and Tim did not understand why his face was soaked and his pillow wet that night. All logic had left his mind and he half stumbled out of the room with splotchy cheeks to shut off the music because he had been crying for hours straight. The music seemed to pierce his heart right through. The arrow tip a little too sharp for his liking. He stopped outside each room to press his ear against the mahogany to pick out who it was. When he walked down the hallway towards Damian’s room, the music kept getting louder and louder. Tim stood there, transfixed. The music didn’t stop till 5am and Tim still stood there, unable to move. His legs grew numb and shook slightly but he stayed. He desperately desired more as he forcefully pulled himself away and back into his room.
In the morning, Damian was a little more tired than usual (he stayed up to perfect that piece). While being served breakfast, he waited patiently as he played with his thumbs. Dick comes down and plants a kiss on his head as he jostled in to help Alfred. Tim comes down a little while later and freezes when he sees Damian. Wordlessly, he hugs Damian who starts protesting. Jason stares awkwardly when he sees what happens. He tiptoes to the kitchen as well.
Bruce is coming down the stairs when he hears Damian’s squawks of let me go and Drake, what are you doing? He quickly made his way there and gently tells them to stop fighting or attempting to murder each other. Damian is seething at a more-quiet-than-usual Drake. Dick has to tap on his shoulder to bring him back to current status.
“Damian can play the violin.”
Damian’s hair suddenly stands on end when Drake whispers the words.
“Drake-”
“Damian, I stood outside your room for the entirety of last night. You play very well. I loved it.”
Bruce takes a sudden interest at Damian’s attempts to shove his reddened cheeks as Dick watches the exchange with curiosity. Bruce gently places his hands in Damian’s hair and smoothens it out like how Talia did. Damian has to physically restrain himself and swallows the lump of tears in his throat.
“Damian, my boy. Why hide such a beautiful talent? Our home could use entertainment. In this house, if you have a talent, it should never be behind closed doors.”
Damian mutely nods, as Bruce continues to run his hand through Damian’s hair, playing with one of his curls.
“Do you want to show me?”
Damian shyly gets off his chair and fetches the priceless violin. When the violin was in the eyes of Bruce, he is gobsmacked by the absolute beauty and timeless elegance of the violin. It was almost as if it was crafted for him (it was!) with the darker accents and curves. Damian takes a steeling breath and plays the same piece that made Tim cry.
Bruce can understand why.
It breaks through everything, his walls calmly fall without a sound and give into the evocative piece. Jason and Dick are rendered speechless. Cass and Steph are frozen into silence.
Damian closes his eyes and plays from memory. In his head, he sees Talia and her hands. He sees Talia teaching him and the concerts he’s been to.
Bruce is absolutely floored. He takes Damian and kisses his forehead in peace. Damian feels pride as Jason ruffles him, lovingly calls him Akhi.
Its things like these that make Wayne Manor alive once more.
192 notes
·
View notes
Note
NIKKI UR BACK!!
indeed, for i was supposed to be studying but my brain said s h u t
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Flower: Lily Of The Valley or Wolfsbane (a pretty color)
Fruit: Mangoes or Honeydew
Color: Black or Navy blue
Scent: Chocolate or faint male cologne or baked bread
Season: Winter or Autumn
Tea: Sorry, I don't really drink tea :(
Anyone can do this :)
favorites tag
tagged by the lovely @drivenbybri
flower: buttercups
fruit: honeydew
color: hunter green
scent: fresh baked sweets
season: fall
tea: peach and raspberry
tagging: @demo-wise @not-john-watsons-blog @punkgeekcryptid @gloomydeadpoet
349 notes
·
View notes
Text
💖 heart game! 💖
❤️ Scary mutual, intimidating.
🧡 Baby mutual, needs protecting.
💛 Favorite mutual, interact a lot.
💚 Cool mutual, don’t know very well.
💙 Popular mutual, has a lot of friends.
💜 Funny mutual, posts are great
so i saw this going around on twitter and uhmm 👀👀
reblog to have ur mutuals send u a heart!
18K notes
·
View notes
Text
He’s so stunning
It Should Be Illegal To Be This Pretty
Thank you, Travis Moore.
#Richard Grayson#travis moore you're ABSOLUTELY AMAZING#all hail travis moore#everytime i think of dick grayson#this is what pops in my head#he's so pretty#omg#im NOT LYING#HE LOOKS SO SOFT#and for once#they got him right#jsiadiidj#hoodeddead#no joke i love this man precious
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
In my honest opinion, you're a pure soul who cannot see anyone suffer let alone get joy from someone else's suffering you're an amazing writer too!
anon is the priceless one here <3
thank you in all sense :)) hope you're having a splendid week :>
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
reblog this if you want anonymous opinions of you
240K notes
·
View notes
Note
reminder to eat right, sleep right and stay healthy and safe!!
i saw your ask about the baby damian and tim one, i swear I'll do one up this sat.
pls stay safe everyone, love u
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
✨mutual appreciation day✨
there's 10 more of these and im so embarrassed for not getting there first.
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
I once accidentally broke (dislocated) my sister's knee and despite being on ever great terms with her, I regret it greatly
i broke my bro's wrist while arm wrestling, don't worry mate
3 notes
·
View notes