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batricide · 7 years

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"Stay with me. Come on, just a little longer."

They fight all the time these days. Since he brought that woman and that child into the house, Damian finds himself unable to tolerate his father’s presence. He hates them, hates what they turn his father into, hates how they make him feel like a broken relic. He sees them smile and laugh and fall into domestic bliss and he feels as though he’ll never belong.

Victoria is Bruce Wayne’s child. The one he wanted, the one he loves without the odds and sharp edges it takes to understand his son. And Damian Wayne is the son of the Bat and the grandson of the Demon. Alana is not his mother, and Bruce Wayne does not know how to be his father.

Yet it doesn’t matter to Victoria. Despite how Damian pushes her away, she finds her way into his heart. Dick smiles at him over a cup of coffee, tells him one day that he was the same way - winces when Damian kicks his shin and laughs when he struggles to deny that he cares for her.

Tim calls from across the room that he saw them having a tea party. Jason chimes in that he’s seen Damian wear a tiara. Bruce walks through the kitchen door in time to see his youngest son, held back by his eldest, threatening to throttle both of his other brothers.

“Some things never change,” he mutters, pouring himself a cup of coffee and walks away from the scene.

- - -

Hannibal Lecter is a monster none of them are prepared to handle. The Joker pales in comparison to this man, his sociopathy knows no bounds. They can’t find him, can’t lock him down, and it frustrates him to no end. Damian meets him without knowing, as a professor at his university under the name Thomas Harris. He teaches criminal psychology and he’s damn good at it.

Damian takes to him immediately. A kinship he never expected forms before he knows what’s happening - Damian is sharp as a whip and argues with him in class, passionately, over the motivation behind certain crimes and the true culprits of others. Harris grades him harder than the rest and Damian thrives under it, returning home with words of praise and scorn.

( “He attributed several of Professor Pyg’s murders to Riddler. Riddler. Can you believe that, father?” )

Harris gives him words of praise. Acknowledges his dark corners

( you can really put yourself in their shoes, Damian, you will make a fine detective

actually professor, my degree is in fine arts. i intend to be a painter. this is merely a hobby. )

without the shame and fear that his father does. It allows him to delve deeper, unlock more, and he finds himself seeking the man out for advice when all else fails him. He asks him what to do when Jon stops talking to him - a mission gone terribly wrong, a relationship badly mishandled - and how to be a better leader. How to command respect instead of how to demand it.

Harris finds his vulnerable spots and feeds on them. Harris opens up old wounds and bleeds them raw in his office, and Damian lets him, because Damian has always needed a father who could accept him for all he is. He tells stories - changed, details warped enough ( he thinks ) to not connect any obvious dots, and finds validation and vindication.

He finds a mentor who doesn’t look away from the ugly parts of him.

He finds a man who sizes those parts up and wonders how best to prepare them.

Hannibal becomes active again and Damian is consumed with finding him. He’s twenty-one and determined to prove himself to his father, once again. He goes at it alone, desperate for attention and affection. He brings the clues to his instructor, asks him for his opinion when his father only tells him to leave it alone.

He puts the pieces together too late.

His father finds him in them.

He can scarcely breathe. Hannibal takes both legs and four fingers, a foot of intestines and leaves him mangled, but functional, as he was never the intended target. Just a victim. Damian lives long enough for Bruce to find him. Long enough to feel regret and pain

His father’s arms are around him. Bruce is trembling with emotion and pain, trying to lift him in a way that won’t hurt. He rasps out an agonized sound and grips his shoulder, holding tightly. Trying to convey what he can’t seem to. The world is awash in shades of greys and reds and he knows time is of the essence.

He’s to die.

They need to live.

“Harris,” he whispers despite the pain and demands to not talk. “It’s Hannibal.... Alana. Victoria...”

Bruce tries to move him, but he grips harder. Forces his father to look and listen to him.

“Save them.”

( the day is saved, he was not intended to have survived. to give the message. jason met the monster in the foyer and split his head open with six incendiary rounds. victoria and alana are saved.

but the cost is heavy. damian doesn’t survive the journey to the hospital, he hears his father’s voice - surprised when his consciousness drifts in to hear him still talking, to see him still there. he asks only if they’re safe. and when he gets his answer, he passes with a smile on his face. )

#vespertiilian

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tessatechaitea · 5 years

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Teen Titans Spotlight #7: Hawk

I finally found Rob Liefeld's reference for drawing guns!

This was the airport in Denver before it was replaced by the Illuminati.

I thought this scene was going to instantly morph into the cover. Stupid airports and their no guns policies! Although this was 1987. Couldn't you bring anything you wanted onto a plane in 1987?! Maybe I'm thinking of flying in the seventies. Once when I was seven, I remember sitting next to a guy flying with fifteen goats and a keg of sulfuric acid while I let the tired Catholic priest seated next to me rest his head in my lap. Excuse me while I draw a MAGA cap onto Hawk in every panel of this comic book so it reads more like 2019. He's got their philosophy down pat on the first page! "I love everything lefties hate even if I don't know anything about those things! At least I fucking know what the 'AR' in AR-15 stands for! Idiots!" The only problem with this initial scene is that the anti-nuclear canvasser puts his hands on Hawk and then security proclaims there was no provocation. No wait. I used the phrase "the only problem" wrong because there are multiple problems with this scene. One of the problems, I admit, stems from me reading this in 2019. When I first read the panel with security saying, "Let's go," I didn't read it as security breaking up the fight. I read it in the voice of every fucking kid on Twitch or Mixer ready to escalate some shit. I thought the fight was just getting started! Another problem because I should probably wring out more than one extra problem after saying this scene had more than one problem with it is that the canvasser even continues to argue his point with somebody who threatened to give them a fat lip. He's never going to get any signatures from willing people if he spends all his time arguing with people who are obviously not into his groove. Canvassers need way thicker skin than this guy has! Just say "Have a nice day!" and move on!

I didn't know that stripping down to your underwear was a valid defense for violently going apeshit bananas in public.

It's actually worse than stripping down to his underwear. Hawk actually had to unpack his costume and get into it to prove that he had the right to punch a hippie. Security is all, "Well, since you got the Twinkie product placement in, I guess we have to let you go. But don't go punching anybody who isn't a terrorist from now on, you got me?!" The Stapleton Airport Security team have ferreted out a plan by "one of these Middle Eastern terrorist gangs" to sabotage the Crow Mountain Nuclear Power Plant. Hawk pulls his mask down and screams, "Not Crow Mountain! Nuclear is my favorite!" The Security Chief says, "Hopefully the guy you punched was actually one of the terrorists because that would make your actions seem less crazy in context later (even if you didn't actually know he was a terrorist) and also make our story seem less bigoted by making the terrorists white guys." Hawk responds, "Why isn't anybody biting my Twinkie? Don't you understand what an imperative is?!" Now I wish Hawk was a violent, short-fused asshole who was only concerned with proper grammar. Hawk tells the security guys that he'd love to help kill a few terrorists so call him if some shit goes down. Security is all, "Apparently we can't charge Teen Titans with assault so, um, enjoy your stay! Try not to punch too many Coloradans!" But they seemingly come to their senses when Hawk is out of punching range.

With all these snack references, I suspect the terrorists will be stopped by their love of fruit pies.

Hawk is in Colorado to attend an anti-terrorism seminar at a corporate funded think tank called the Kellogg's Group. Why is this comic book insisting on making my mouth water?! Does it know I'm currently not eating sugar?! Hawk is the only hero to attend this anti-terrorism seminar because the other Teen Titans, the Justice League, and the Outsiders declined because they didn't want to be seen endorsing any particular group. Infinity Inc. wasn't invited. Hawk makes a huge splash at the seminar with logical statements and incendiary truth bombs.

Almost got that terrorism sorted! Time for a Ding Dong!

Hawk leaves the meeting to go look at Colorado's natural beauty while fuming about wimps and losers. I'm sympathetic to writer Mike Baron's leftist viewpoints so I'm not going to start calling Hawk "Strawman" during this commentary. But, I mean, he's really quite the caricature of the super-patriotic, support-the-police-at-any-cost, hippies-fucking-suck redneck, isn't he? I probably didn't use dashes correctly in that last sentence but I felt it made it somewhat clearer. For the layman! I know grammar nerds are going all Grammar Hawk on me! "You wimp! You loser! You should be gunned down the Israeli way!" The National Guard stops by in a helicopter to tell the Kellogg's Corporation that they need to evacuate. The Stapleton Airport Security Guard Detectives were right! Terrorists have captured the Crow Mountain Nuclear Plant! Hawk watches from his idyllic perch on the mountain and thinks more of his profound thoughts.

MAGA!

What the fuck is Hawk toting around in that ginormous case? Is it Mike Brady's architectural designs for a new theme park? Or is it a Banana Splits poster?! I'm only five pages into this comic book and I don't think I've ever been so entertained. Hawk is fucking nuts. Is every character with "Hawk" in their name a ranting aggressive conservative bastard? Maybe it's characters with "Hawk" in their name or characters whose names begin with "H" and end with "K"? Is that what made Hulk so angry? Was it welfare queens, immigrants, and the estate tax? Inside Hawk's gigantic tube is the Hawkglider. That's just a hang-glider made from PVC pipe and a re-purposed parachute.

"If you want something done right wing, you've got to do it yourself!" is the original Ayn Rand quote.

Hawk is a big dumb fucker. He might be the anti-Batman. He glides into the power plant to discover a guard unconscious on the ground. In one panel, he notices the guard has an insect bite on his neck. In the next panel, Hawk gets big by an insect and doesn't make any kind of intuitive or logical connection between the two. Instead he just explodes again, calls the bug a wimp and a loser, and rushes inside to kill some terrorists.

For such an angry guy, he sure sneaks comically.

Hawk discovers more guards out cold with bug bites. That makes him think, "More bug bites...what the heck...they should have called Orkin." Immediately followed by this panel:

"Gah! Where's my gun?!"

Hawk needs to stop being so comically angry, conservative, and stupid or I'm going to scan every panel in this issue.

Now I need to add misogy...wait. Is her name "Stupid Broad"?!

Hawk recognizes Stupid Broad because she was with Jerry, the hippie trying to stop nuclear power. She was outside protesting when the terrorists took over and since she had a wrench on her, she thought maybe she could stop them. Stupid Broad introduces herself as Bonnie so I guess Stupid Broad is her superhero name. Hawk continues to curse the bugs and tells Bonnie to keep her wrench handy. At least he recognizes a superhero team-up when it's happening. How long before he accidentally calls her Dove?

Now I'm imagining Batman hunting The Riddler with some Gotham Police while he mumbles, "Never let it be said that Doctor Wayne's little boy was stupid!"

Christ. I'd forgotten just how long we've been dealing with this whole "leftist media" bullshit. But it fucking worked. The media was so fucking upset that they kept getting called biased that they simply stopped actually reporting on news and just became parrots of right-wing talking points. It's no surprise that I probably have spent more time shitting on journalists and newscasters in these comic book commentaries than I've spent shitting on Republicans. Because the journalists should know better and have instead chosen the easy, cowardly way of avoiding constant criticism. Hawk continues to ignore the bug situation until a giant Preying Mantis made out of bugs approaches. It calls itself Arachnid and it wants an end to all sort of fun things: nuclear power, the destruction of the rain forest, the use of chemical pesticides, the production of acid rain. It's practically asking for an end to humans! I hope Hawk kills it! At one point during the confrontation, Bonnie asks about the Arachnid, "What is it?" This is how Hawk responds:

At first I thought he was being controlled by the bug bites. But, no, this is just his standard demeanor.

After Arachnid states its grievances, Bonnie shouts, "Right on!" Hawk yells, "SHUT UP!" Is this the kind of comic books Comicsgaters are dreaming of going back to? Except for the part where the audience understands Hawk is a huge asshole. They probably read this and, every few pages, rush out into the street to find another guy to high five. Bonnie starts talking about some Frank Herbert book while Hawk asks out loud, "How does a bunch of stupid bugs expect to destroy a nuclear power plant?" Luckily, Arachnid is a helpful bug golem. It's all, "Termites!" Hawk should have saved his Orkin line for this moment! There's only a few pages left so when do they introduce the Fruit Pie Wizard and his magic wand of fruit pie creation? Arachnid disappears into some cracks while the nuclear plants alarms go off, warning of an imminent meltdown. Hawk's plan is to randomly throw switches hoping to get lucky enough to stop the meltdown. Bonnie's plan is to look disaster in the face and find the silver lining.

So every thing he said up until this point was supposed to be encouraging and complimentary?!

Before Hawk can start throwing switches and writer Mike Baron has to do some actual research on what effect that might have on a nuclear power plant beginning to meltdown, Hawk notices an organ in the control room. Hawk's new plan is to hook the organ up to the PA system, play some screechingly high notes, and drive the bugs away! If this works, lawmakers will probably introduce a bill to put organs into every public space, just in case of another terrorist attack by insects. Hawk's plan works and the police thank him for saving Colorado. Then they immediately turn on Bonnie and threaten to arrest her for trespassing. She doesn't strip down to her underwear to prove she's a Teen Titan though, darn it. Instead, Hawk uses his pull as a Titan to get her off the hook. The cop doesn't appreciate it but what can he do? This is Teen Titans Spotlight On: Hawk, not Teen Titans Spotlight On: Podunk Denver Police Officer. Later, Hawk returns to the anti-terrorism seminar and basically proposes organs in every public place. What a fucking douche. The issue ends with Arachnid extending an invitation to Hawk to meet with its queen to discuss negotiations of peace with the insect kingdom. Or maybe it's just Queen Bee behind this all and she's in some serious need for an angry fuck. Teen Titans Spotlight #7: Hawk Rating: B+. Fuck, I was entertained. No wonder all these assholes love Fox news. It's fun having people tell you that what you think is right and confirming your beliefs that the people who think differently are angry fucking dumbies.

#Teen Titans Spotlight #Hawk #Teen Titans #DC #DC Comics

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nshtn · 3 months

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littl pizza NSHTN

#edward nashton #dano riddler #danonation #riddler #the riddler #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #dano!riddler #/dev/art/#nshtn #incendiary riddler

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nshtn · 25 days

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#the riddler #tw blood #danonation #dano riddler #incendiary riddler #it he boy...#nsft #/dev/art/

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nshtn · 1 year

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Incendiary Eddie x fem Café Reader

[[ Kicking off writing for Eddie and taking short written requests for my boy now!! This is a little oneshot outside of canon <3 If you'd like something, feel free to send in an ask stating that you'd like it written! 🤗 ]]

"I know a little of something, I don't know everything, but each day I learn anew. What am I?"

I'm sitting on a weathered barstool in the name of a café I have, regrettably, already forgotten. The woman in front of me has just rattled a riddle off to me, and the tornado of thoughts in my mind have redirected themselves like the tidal gusts of a typhoon to funnel into solving the puzzle neatly laid, word by word, in the metaphysical dimension of my mind.

A human! Oh, no, Eddie, get yourself together. That's too obvious, and you're supposed to be the Puzzle King. She's referring to herself, I think; pretty hair and eyes that pierce something fierce through you, but every time they hit me, they search softly. Searching. Searching for information - or perhaps - connection? No - don't think about that, you, uh...

"A s-student." The corners of my mouth turn up slightly. Hers have lifted considerably, of note...

"You're right!" She presents me a coffee in a brown mug. The smell is different, though. The aroma that wafts from it has some hint of cherry... alcohol... dark... chocolatey and earthy and ... wrong. I momentarily consider, though brief, the possibility of being poisoned; her lilt, however telling of the expression that has dawned upon me, breaks me from the trance-like spiral my mind has descended upon fitfully - "Dark almond cherry amaretto flavor. It's on the house. You're one smart cookie!" That smile of hers belies greatly the subtle sheen of loneliness that lies beneath. There's no way I, thirty-odd-something of a man of strange expression and a coiling darkness, have held her interest by natural wit. Still, the thought of being poisoned has been quashed by her enviously natural reply, a feeling I am quick to swallow.

My eyebrows dash up a tad and my eyes wander over the darkly shaded drink. A hair darker, and it might have matched the shade of my thoughts when I'd first walked in. I suppose she's taken it as a sign of apprehension in the way she tenses. Damn. "Don't--" a nervous laugh breaks free of her, embarrassed, "don't worry, it's good with pie." We -- no, I -- am still waiting on the slice. I am so deranged in the reins of sheltering from the fruits of emotional labor that my reactions to her are stiff enough to paint me a robot. Background character. It's not what I want, it's what I need - deserve - need for later, later. But what I want...

Somehow, I am content with waiting - with this awkward back-and-forth exchange of words in a game I normally lose. She, having stuttered, cannot call me out on my own. In hindsight, it is foolish of me to chase my want for socialization, maybe. Probably. Absolutely.

"I trust you." What way and how? Well, with this coffee, it doesn't seem too hard. I lift the stirrer to show vested interest and give an idle circling, the cream dispersing in soft shades and delightful little bubbles. It betrays the city this gem nestles itself in, a respite, oasis, an opening, clearing, a light tunnel, a beacon -- but I'm trying not to fall into a rabbit hole, pulling my thoughts away from the chain of synonyms that beckons the addled mind. I feel the urge to pull out a puzzle book. I feel the compulsion to tell a riddle.

I think of one for her. It doesn't have to be good - I just want to keep talking. To her -- to someone, and she happens to be the one currently diverting my mind's personal assault, that's my own excuse.

"I'm shrouded in mystery and danger surrounds me," I begin, voice soft and dry. I have not yet tried my coffee. Was this a mistake? Is this too deep for a lonely café? But, her eyes lock onto mine and her mind is readily accepting. "I'm often denied, but eventually I must be satisfied," Think! "-- farther than skin, it is the heart I am deep within." My glasses reflect in a way I enjoy as I fold my hands beneath my chin and push my sore body a little further up in the stool. She's about to say something, pursing her lips thoughtfully. I complete it with the same ending she'd given her own, mimicry for the chance of closeness. "What am I?"

And before she can answer, a beep interrupts her thoughts. Damn. "Oh shoot!--" The woman hurries off to get my slice, and I'm left alone for a moment to collect my thoughts. Just what do I think I'm doing? I'm probably boring her to death. I'm... so annoying. Pestering. I'm bothersome. I feel myself turn inwards. I feel my senses creeping up on me. I feel a sudden and extensive dread, like a cover pulled over me too sharp, emotional whiplash, fast and unbearable. The darkness is creeping - rushing - surrounding - grasping itself in with every second that passes and I force myself to focus on the sound of her steps, quick and light on tile floor, and then metal, and tile again. Ground yourself, the podcasts had said, pay attention to your surroundings. Best to acquaint myself with footsteps until it's second nature for the journey that lies ahead of me, anyway. But for now…

She returns, laying down a green plate with a plump piece of pumpkin pie on it (alluringly alliterating, allaying my arduous addiction). There's a scoop of vanilla ice cream heaved over the top as generously as possible, and there's another gob that slips off the side. I could reason all day that she doesn't have any interest in me, that she's being friendly as part of the job, but with free coffee and extra effort I find my mind spins less steadily its' unstoppable wheels of hatred.

"The answer to it is... is it justice?" The light from the kitchen's rusting door sets upon her a delicate outline of white. I want to berate myself for the three seconds it takes for me to get past the perfection of the mood lighting adjacent to her comment, but I can't.

"That's correct."

"That was a tough one!" She presses a black fork in my hand with her own, and our fingers brush, and my mind unravels in so many different directions of possible conversation that I stutter and my cheeks treasonously shade themselves pink. My own are pulled at the corners, tough skin, bitten fingernails. Hers are soft and warm... she pulls away, apologetic, but then pauses. I'm so stupid, delayed, so lonely that the mere touch of another friendly hand has sent my mind hurtling, and my head turns down to avoid eye contact and--

"You're... um, very cute--" "Thank you," we say, almost on top of each other. Mine is nerves and paranoia and every facet of my being that wants to scream that this is a dream or a trap, and hers seems like an untrained reply of enamorment. I am not left to decide as she continues, unprompted, hands drawing past the counter to hold onto themselves for comfort. Is she as many jumbled nerves as I find myself? A dual spotlight drawn between us, the light from a drab kitchen in a shitty part of town? The moment, this moment, is isolated from the association, though. "It's... free, all of it, i-if you come visit again." Her face knits together and she pushes a loose strand of hair that has bound free behind her ear. "Sometime," she adds, sheepish.

And how can I say no? Even if it were a trap, how can I decline the saccharine sweetness of continued conversation? My heart hungers, my brain wants for the potential - even if miniscule - of contact, and in a café of nameless abandon surrounded by squalor and sewer rot, I am made to feel the dangerous drip-feed of hope. It is a mistake, and I know it will hasten the cracks in my psyche when she inevitably casts me aside as so many have, but in the moment my heart activates my vocal cords and rips the words I need to say before the rational choice of my mind can punctuate the matter. I am surprised at how quickly it all happens, over in a second and stretching on into some infinite horizon.

"Deal."

#edward nashton x reader #dano riddler #dano!riddler #[[ I have given this a hearty word cycling and made it more definitively Incendiary Eddie <3 ]]#[[ hope ya'll enjoy !! ]]#ooc #/dev/fic/

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nshtn · 2 months

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NSHTN Personality Sheet! (aka Incendiary Dano Riddler, or Incendi)

Music Vibes to Match > Ambience: 3 Tonal Tracks without Lyrics SHE - DIGITAL AMBIENT DESIGNS - BOOT DBOKEY - ASMR TOPRE KEYBOARD [LEOPOLD FC660C 45g] MINDFULNESS ON MONDAYS - CALMING UNDERGROUND LAKE Negative: 5 Tracks with Lyrics and 'Negative' Themes KEYGEN CHURCH - NEL NOME DEL CODICE

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MY LIFE WITH THE THRILL KILL KULT - THE DEVIL DOES DRUGS

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AYESHA EROTICA - SYNTHETIC [Slowed + Reverb]

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VIENNA TENG - THE HYMN OF ACXIOM

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KASANE TETO COVER - AISHITE! AISHITE! AISHITE!

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>>Footnotes:

|BUSDRIVER - EAT RICH

|AESOP ROCK - DOG AT THE DOOR

|LAURA LES - HAUNTED

Positive: 5 Tracks with Lyrics and 'Positive' Themes BUSDRIVER - NEW AQUARIUM

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OR[G]Y - OPTICON

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COMBICHRIST - THIS SHIT WILL F C U K YOU UP

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GABEMTNZ - GLITCH IN YOUR HEART

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KAYLA RAE - MAD?

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>>Footnotes:

|POWERCYAN - DISCIPLES OF THE NIGHT

|DORIAN ELECTRA - DADDY LIKE!

|DUAL CORE - HOSTAGE DOWN

Favorite Foods > Three comfort, three healthy, three high class Comfort: - Poptarts - Pizza - Goldfish Healthy: - Carrots - Steamed Zucchini - Sweet Potato Fries High Class: - Salmon with Lump Crab - Hambone Pea Soup with Herbs - Herb-Roasted Multicolor Potatoes

Political affiliation, beliefs overview > How do these beliefs affect their daily life? General Far left anarchosocialist. Anti 'three letter associations'. Pseudoskeptic. Atheist. 'Positive' Strong believer in personal freedoms. Water and housing should be mandatory for all. Workers should unionize. All people deserve plenty of time off to handle their needs. Government is shackles. 'Negative' - get spicy A bit of a tech bro. Poses a legible threat to people with power. Anti-psychiatry with an unfair bias to doctors. Overly-positive outlook on deeply illicit substances (also uses them). Anti-theocratic, headache to people who are religious. Privacy paranoid.

Personality > What words describe them? Contemplative, intelligent, shy, hypomanic, paranoid, unstable, obsessive, hyper-empathetic, witty, cynical, touch-deprived.

Game Vibes > Five games that have their vibe NIGHTDIVE - SYSTEM SHOCK DRIZZLY BEAR - HACKMUD CREATURES LABS - CREATURES: DOCKING STATION FACEPUNCH - GARRY'S MOD CHUCKLEFISH - STARBOUND

Collage Vibes > Cite your sources! Square image board collage.

tagging: @danosrosegarden @sweetums0kitty

#the riddler #danonation #edward nashton #dano riddler #nshtn #INSPIRED by theriddlerdiscordkitten's eddie hcs #/dev/writing/#Youtube

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