The Joker was apprehended, sitting on the ground as Batman guarded him, but the kid--"Bruce Wayne's newest ward, how tragic! Hehehe!"--was nowhere to be found. Nightwing and Red Hood desperate searched the warehouse until a shuffling noise grabbed their attention.
A kid, black haired just like the kid in the Joker's broadcast, crawling out of a pile of boxes. "Is it over?" the boy asked quietly.
Nightwing guided him to the only exit, unfortunately walking past the boy's own kidnapper. "Yeah, kid. It's over. Come on-"
Like a shot, the boy rushed the Joker and kicked him right in the balls.
The Joker wheezed like a dying squeaky toy. Red Hood froze. Nightwing immediately snatched the boy up by the armpits, but all that did was give the boy the height to attack again, punting Joker in the jaw. The clown went down and cracked his head on the floor. He did not get back up.
There was a moment of silence before Red Hood roared with laughter, his helmet distorting the sound.
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husk is from vegas he was always gonna fall in love with a performer, it’s in his bones
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Its officially the "pretty skies" season<33
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It was Emery’s “sense of being super self-destructive”, though, that struck a particular chord, because it’s a trait he’s seen in himself. “I was compassionate towards him as someone who can’t stop making the same mistakes,” Turner says.
He stops, weighing up whether he should elaborate further. “I was a big stoner,” he says, eventually. “I used to smoke so much weed. I was dealing with a depression or a frustration, and not having the understanding or the tools to deal with how I felt, so I self-medicated for too long.”
Callum Turner for Independent.co.uk (2020)
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dreamling from dreams pov is like I am older than the stars and I will leave my shoes at the door because you do, even though I don’t know why. I’d forgotten what the world looked like before I saw it through your eyes. you give me hope. has it always been this easy? to fall, not as a comet does, but as gently as the sea goes to the shore? I am monstrous, and yet, still you bring me home. I have known love as war, as pain, but never rest. peace.
& hobs pov is like. once I loved you as the sailor loves his north star, so bright, far above him. now I think I love you better for the way you speak to children, how you hold each dreamers hopes so gently in your hands, despite, despite, despite. I would have waited forever and it would’ve been worth it. you tell me you’re a king. you whisper the secrets of the universe in my ear. still, I’m greedy. I want to know how you take your tea, what you eat in the mornings, what you look like when you’re happy down to your bones. you say you know the end of every story before we tell them, every word we’ll say before we speak and yet you come down from your kingdom to hear me tell my stories, again and again.
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A smooth helmeted iguana clings to a mossy tree trunk, well camouflaged.
Photograph: Javier Lobon-Rovira
The British Ecological Society Annual Capturing Ecology Competition
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