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fordarkisthesuede · 6 years

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At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 9

*Arrives two days late with Starbucks* ‘Sup, guys! σ( ▼∀▼)σ These past 96 hours have somehow filled me with a weird chaotic energy, and I pumped out the longest roller-coaster of a chapter I’ve ever done in such a short amount of time!!! Thank you, whoever sent all the writing vibes my way!!!! ★>d(,,･ε´-,,)⌒☆ I’m sending out strong vibes to everybody in return! *May you get hit by the writing bug and have the opportunity and energy to completely translate your ideas to printed words!*

Buuut a big note before we get to the good stuff: I realized too late that the original events of S2 take place in Spring. Like…April. I was writing all of this with the thought that S2 took place in fall; I mean, the characters can wear a leather jacket or a couple of layers comfortably, so I thought “yeah that sounds like early autumn”. Nope! So that means that for this story’s timeline, everything gets shifted into where it should be. On the downside, that means I had to go through and edit all the bits where it said “it was totally spring, you guys”. On the upside… IT’S NOW OCTOBER!!!!! THE SPOOKY SEASON THAT COMPLETELY FITS WITH WHAT’S GOING ON!!! And coincidentally, it’s my favorite time of the year, so I love writing about it even more! I get to add in a thing here and there about the spookiest time of the year, so I’ll have a nice list of what those little changes are uploaded here soon if you don’t feel like re-reading the whole thing. A re-read isn't necessary though, just keep in mind that the humid air of rainy spring in the city is replaced with chilling fronts and even more cloud cover than usual. Why am I bothering with this? Because I’m a stickler for keeping with canon as much as possible and I feel like an absolute fool for not remembering what goddamn time of year it was to begin with. (I mean, I went so far as to download all of TeamFourStar’s play-through because I watched it so often, you think I'd remember to go back and watch the very beginning once in a while…)

Anywho, thank you all again for your continuously loving support!!!

♡~(ɔ ˘3˘)˘⌣˘ c)

Important Spoiler Tags: drugs (mentioned), swearing, canon-typical violence, electric shocks (mentioned), torture of flowers, flirting, almost an excessive use of emoji, crying, romantic dirty thoughts

Read on Ao3 or continue below:

Chapter 9: Grapevines

Bruce Wayne couldn’t remember the last time he’d conducted a meeting from his home office. It wasn’t as if he didn’t use it – the desk surface had hardly any dust settled on it and two empty coffee mugs he’d forgotten about on two different occasions just happened to be stacked behind the monitor – but it felt strange, like a lot of things did lately.

He knew part of the reason for that was watching houses down in the Batcave right now. Knowing he wasn’t alone in the house was comforting, but knowing there were two cops outside the Manor’s front door just waiting for a chance to grab his best friend-cum-houseguest was not, and knowing that they were both close to being thrown in hot water was even less so.

He figured the other reason he felt strange was because he was slipping back into his old habit as if it had never been shelved in the first place. He had time to kill before the video meeting started, so he’d been scouring for information on “Pam”, Jonathan Crane’s ‘old friend’.

There were a few Pamela’s in Gotham, but only one fit within Crane’s age-range and attended Gotham University at about the same time: Pamela Isley, a forty-four-year-old former botanist with a record that ran the length of his arm. Theft, assault, threats, and attempted poisonings all done in the name of extreme environmentalism and social activism were sprinkled in her history before and after her days as a researcher, and according to GCPD records, she was now suspected of running her own drug-ring under the moniker of ‘Poison Ivy’. (Bruce found several recorded instances of people claiming to be Poison Ivy, most of whom were already arrested.)

Bruce would’ve wondered why on Earth she hadn’t been thrown in prison when she made a bomb-threat at a wealthy businessman several states away nearly a decade ago if he hadn’t seen her mug-shot from back then. At thirty-five, she looked every bit as beautiful as a top-billed Hollywood star, with natural orange-red curls cascading over her pale shoulders and ample bust in chemically-tamed waves, flashing the camera a come-hither stare that made it look like she was trying for a part in a high-budget porn flick rather than standing in front of a height chart for her criminal record. Pamela’s charges were mysteriously swept under the rug.

The latest photo he found of her reminded him a bit of those ‘cougar’ dating ads he’d seen – the older Pamela was blowing a kiss to the camera with a mocking look in her dark green eyes. Bruce glared at it. There was little doubt she was using people to cover for her constantly, and when she was in trouble, she managed to wriggle out of it with her looks.

Not this time. She was friends with Dr. Jonathan Crane, and that meant she wasn’t going to get out of this unharmed. The second his virtual meeting was over, Bruce was heading towards Toxic Acres, and hopefully the wounded Crane would still be there to see Batman’s fist hit his –

Bruce snapped out of his thoughts at the buzz of his phone. A message from the BatComputer…?

I’m bored :/

Bruce blinked down at the screen. John had found the emergency messaging system. Of course he had. He was just grateful that the encryption software on his phone was still up to date. Just what else did John poke his nose into down there…? (There was the chance that John would see files he shouldn’t, but Bruce kept those under a thumbprint encryption. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought.)

Stake-outs are usually pretty boring.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you were down here tho! :)

Bruce hovered his thumb over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. The feeling was kind of mutual, if he was being honest; having another person around on a stakeout would at least keep his mind wandering into the worsts of what-ifs and double-checking every last security issue…

No movement on either houses btw. Been reading Crane’s docs in the meantime but it’s DREADFUL!!! I feel like I’m reading a sleeping pill… =_=

You finish your WE stuff yet?

Meeting’s not for another 20 minutes. Been looking up stuff on Crane’s “friend”.

Oh??? :o Do tell!!!!

Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm.

Pamela Isley, former botanist w/ criminal rec., mostly extreme protest kind of stuff. Good chance she’s the head of a drug-ring that moved here a couple months ago; their leader goes by “Poison Ivy”.

They went to college together, but Pamela moved back here recently.

hMmMmm…. That means no burning the place down if we’re stuck! Bad fumes everywhere xP

Bruce focused on the word “we’re”. He hadn’t been planning on bringing John along. He wanted him safe, at home, where no one had a chance of seeing him and he wasn’t put in harm’s way…

Oh!!! You’ve got a bunch of sticky electro-shockers around - do you mind if I tinker with them? :3c pleeeeaaasssee?

What are you thinking of doing with them?

Making one BIIIIIG shock-bomb, of course! ;D I can wire them together so the shock spreads evenly in the space while it’s discharging.

Bruce reconsidered bringing John. He was still learning to curb his impulses, so being outside in a fighting environment would be a serious gamble, but... Maybe that could be their advantage, too. Bruce made a mental note to go dig out the spare bullet-proof vest from his closet’s secret panel.

You can do that?

I played around with making something like it before, but……well, you know.

Time + supplies for that project were low att. I figured I could always go back to it later anyway.

Bruce felt like his heart had deflated and swelled in such a short time that it hurt.

I mean I’m fine with throwing knives around too but I figured that would be less discrete ¯\_(ツ )_/¯

He’d been thinking of different methods of entering the “house”. Most of them featured a silent slip-in and as little combat as possible, but he knew that there would likely be some muscle around to stop any would-be intruders, and getting a quieter jump on them would certainly be helpful. He would certainly be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed that John had thought that far ahead even back then.

If you think you can get it done within 1.5 hours, then yes.

Ha ha ha with these supplies I can get it done in like 40 mins! >:3 just you watch!!!

Btw have you seen the news?

Not yet. Why?

I was on the morning edition! At least they used a good pic ;D

But also saw a guy getting fished out of the harbor. Your handy-dandy invasion software said he’s a registered Ryde driver.

I told you not to fiddle with that.

Sorry, but I only used it the once! Promise!!!

Bruce sighed through his nostrils.

Besides I thought you’d want to know. Think Crane stole his ride and dumped him by the docks? :v

Probably. I can get the plate from up here to verify. DO NOT TOUCH THAT PROGRAM AGAIN.

Yes sir ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Bruce wasn’t sure if that message was supposed to be flirtatious or mocking.

The incoming call from Iman Avesta stopped him from responding. He figured it had to do with John’s escape and the extra security added at Wayne Tower this morning, but why was she calling him now, rather than several hours ago?

“Iman?”

“Hey, Bruce. Hold on a sec – there we go, now we can both -”

“Bruce, what the fuck?” Tiffany asked over the line. “Are you at home right now?”

Bruce almost sighed at the attitude. “Yes, Tiffany, I’m at home, in my office.”

“Uh-huh. I keep getting alerts that your basement’s messaging system is being used. Care to explain that?”

Oh. Of course. He’d forgotten Tiffany had linked her phone to that, too. It’d just…been too long, he supposed. (She couldn’t read them, though, could she? He was fairly sure it didn’t give out mass-texts unless prompted.) “…where are you right now?”

Iman responded instead. “We’re in your second office.”

“…the line’s secure?”

“Of course.” Iman paused, and Bruce knew his new CSO was choosing her words carefully. “I’m guessing you have John Doe in the Batcave?”

“Yes.”

“Bruce, did you fucking break him out?” Tiffany asked with no shortness of impatience.

“I rescued him,” Bruce said firmly. “I know what you’re thinking, and I have a pretty good idea of what you’re going to say, but listen: I had no choice but to take him with me. One of the doctors working at Arkham has gone rogue – he’d been doing experiments on patients, and I have a feeling he’s going to continue them on civilians. I need to find him before then, and John has been helping me.”

“Helping…? You’re not bringing him in the field with you?” Tiffany said disbelievingly. “After that psychopath almost killed us?”

Bruce could still see Joker running at Tiffany, knife in hand, his psychotic breakdown in full force. He could still see him being smacked against the railing, sheer madness played over his long, bloody face as he desperately fought to stab what was his hero.

But John and Joker were as much the same as Bruce and Batman were, and they were constantly changing.

The Joker in the Batcave wasn’t the same one from Ace Chemicals.

“I know what John did,” he answered, trying to breathe even as something wanted to hitch in his throat, “and I know how far he’s come since then. I know you both regret-”

“No, I’m not listening to this right now,” Tiffany scowled, her voice fading in the middle her sentence like she was leaving the room. “Talk some sense into him.”

Bruce heard Iman’s voice call after her, and then nothing for a beat.

Iman sighed. “I’ll talk to her. But Bruce,” she started seriously, “Tiffany isn’t the only one worrying about you. Six months can’t possibly cure everything wrong with a man whose spent his life in an asylum.” He could practically hear her chew over her phrasing. “I need to know… If John goes too far – if he shows signs of regressing…or just becoming more volatile – I need to know you’re going to put your foot down.”

“I’m more than capable of handling him, Iman.”

“Please, Bruce, I’d rather not have to pull you off another broken pipe lodged in your kidney.” She paused, and Bruce let her continue, feeling the scar in his side twinge at the painful memory. “I know you care a lot about him,” she resumed in a softer tone, “and I know you trust him. But if you doubt him at any time, you need you to step back and re-evaluate your choices. I don’t want him to regress back into the Joker.”

That was a different Joker, Bruce wanted to say. He knew that wouldn’t sound the way it should. “I promise I won’t let that happen.”

“Good to know,” Iman replied, sounding somewhat relieved. “This doctor you’re hunting – is there anything we can do to help?”

Bruce shot a look at the clock in the corner of his monitor. He didn’t have as much time left as he would’ve liked before his virtual meeting started. “Tiffany can fill you in a bit, I had her help searching Arkham’s records before. Can you run a plate for me? I think Dr. Crane is running with a stolen car; I’ll send you the details in a bit.”

“Sure. We can check traffic cams for it, too, if you’d like.”

“If you would. And the second I have anything concrete on Dr. Crane, I’m sending Tiffany the details – I need her pull as Oracle to get the word out to the GCPD before anything happens. They’ll listen to their number-one informant more than a vigilante coming out of retirement.”

“…you’re…?”

He could almost see the shock in her face. They’d had a short discussion about his alter-ego when he decided to quit the first time; she’d been incredibly understanding about the whole thing. It was almost as if she’d seen it coming.

“Are you sure?”

He was as sure. She didn’t know about the instincts broiling underneath his surface every day. She didn’t know he never really stopped being half of himself. She wouldn’t know or really understand that he just shoved it all down and aside like he did so much else just to get through things. “I don’t have any other options at this point.”

“…you know you can count on us if you need the help.”

“Of course I do.”

“Right. Well, in the meantime we’ll keep the fort over here running as smoothly as possible.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good luck.”

The line went silent, and Bruce pulled his phone away, catching a glimpse of three unread messages.

Sorry, buddy, I was just kidding around, you know? Ha ha

Bruce???

Hello???????

Sorry, had a phone call and couldn’t reply. It’s fine.

Seconds ticked by, and Bruce began changing out of his black t-shirt and into his button-down. It wouldn’t do to appear as a CEO in anything less than a proper suit. He could leave the jeans on, at least.

“Oh! Uh…sorry, Bruce…”

He felt his heart stop for a second. That was definitely John’s voice, even though it crackled slightly from the speakers. The monitor didn’t show anything out of the ordinary. John must have been using the spy-camera feature on the Batcomputer; it was linked to most the devices in the house, and Bruce’s webcam was no exception. He’d almost forgotten it had a loudspeaker function, too.

“I didn’t realize you were…um, changing.”

Bruce glared at the webcam’s lens. “John, what did I tell you about fiddling with the Batcomputer?”

“…sorry. I was worried when you didn’t answer me.”

He sounded genuine, at least. Bruce could easily picture him running upstairs to find him, if there wasn’t a chance he would’ve been seen. “I answered you a minute ago. I was on a call with Iman,” he stated plainly, fixing the buttons on his sleeves.

“…oh, ha ha, there it is! Uh, I guess I’ll just…go, then…”

Bruce almost questioned why John was sounding nervous and distracted, but it wasn’t until he saw the webcam light wink off again that he realized his shirt was wide open, the scars littering his torso half on display from the waist up.

Thankfully, no one was around to see Bruce bury his face in the palm of his hand for a moment, feeling like his face was on fire from first and second-hand embarrassment.

It didn’t last long. Bruce took a few deep breaths as he fixed himself up, and dialed into the meeting with a fixed expression of calm, firmly ignoring the heat that had settled in his stomach that threatened to go lower at the thought that John was bound not to forget any of that.

Driving the Batmobile in full gear again was certainly something else. Bruce felt the weight of the Kevlar body armor press against his limbs as he sped down Gotham’s twisting alley streets, no one any the wiser that the Wayne’s red sports car was hiding Batman behind it. The city’s CCTV signal was scrambled with the flick of a switch as he came into driving distance of the alley’s camera, making him almost untraceable.

He’d given the Honda Accord a head-start; it couldn’t go nearly as fast as the Batmobile, and Bruce had to find a spot to safely change before going to go pick John up from his drop-off point, and the post-working-hours traffic had already gotten its usual early start. It was a slower drive than he’d like it to be, even with Bruce’s shortcuts.

The setting sun was completely obscured by a dark overcast. It made the orange streetlamps glowing over the decorations sitting here and there in windows and doors even more energetic, like every corner of Gotham was slowly growing with the energy of Halloween.

Bruce clicked the communicator in his cowl. “John, are you there yet?”

Silence for a few seconds, and then a rustling noise. “Sorry, I had to take this off for a bit. What?”

“Are you there yet?”

John giggled slightly. “Oh, yeah, I’m here. Just waiting on you, pal.”

He was already at the meeting point? How did he get there so fast? “You put everything back where it was supposed to be?”

“No, I stripped the seats and threw everything into the garbage,” John grumbled with dripping sarcasm. “Of course I did, it’d be rude not to put Jerry’s stuff back. What do you take me for?”

“…I’m just making sure you didn’t forget anything.”

“I didn’t.” There was a loud slurping noise, like the last of a liquid being sucked from a straw.

“John, where are you right now?”

“In the alley, waiting for you.”

“Did you make a stop?”

John giggled, a little louder, but not at all nervous. He was enjoying himself. “What can I say? Going out on the town with you like this makes me thirsty,” he said with a strange purr. “Besides, no one bats an eye at me when I look like this anyway.” He paused. “Well, no, I’ve gotten some eyes on me, but, uh, I think they’re more the appreciative type. I guess ZZ Top was kinda right about the sharp-dresser thing.”

Bruce felt his brows knit together. “You’ve always looked sharp,” he said truthfully, turning down a narrow alley.

“Yeah, but not thousand-dollar-suit sharp. There’s a difference! Plus I think this bullet-proof vest makes me look a little bulkier than I actually am.”

Bruce spotted him leaning against the graffiti-covered wall, a Burger Lord cup in one hand and a plastic orange bag in another. Just how much time did Bruce lose while he was changing?

John tossed the drink in the dumpster and practically jumped into the car, shoving the orange bag behind the driver seat and slamming the door shut as Bruce switched off the communicator. He took one look at Bruce’s questioning glower and gave a nervous sort of grin. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, there’s something in there for you, too.”

Bruce almost asked what, but decided that a lecture on keeping a low profile and not taking money from his house’s various hiding spots would have to wait. (Though he supposed whatever John got wasn’t expensive. He was quite frugal, and it wasn’t as if Bruce couldn’t afford to buy John whatever he wanted anyway.) He concentrated instead on heading down the twisting path towards Toxic Acres. At least the traffic over there was a hell of a lot lighter.

“Hey, when you drove me to the Batcave, did you go in fourth gear, or third?”

He wasn’t sure why he asked, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He just recalled putting his foot to the floor and keeping his eyes on the road, occasionally reaching over to check John’s pulse. “I wasn’t really paying attention to that; I concentrating more on driving as fast as possible.”

“Oh – so you didn’t know you could punch the shift down into third whenever you wanted? It was so fun! I can say I literally punched it out of the Batcave!” He laughed. “I’m guessing you can’t do that in this car?”

“…I’ve got paddle shifters.” They were starting to travel into the more deserted road leading into Toxic Acres. Bruce took a sharp turn onto the hill with the broken Do Not Enter sign, and checking that no one was behind him, flipped the switch to shift the car into armored plates and pressed the wheel-paddle for a lower gear.

They flew down the road with a whirring whine of the engine, John’s notorious excited laugh mixing with it, and Bruce allowed himself to smile a little at it, knowing his own little joyful thrill wouldn’t last very long.

John was soon tapping his fingers together in some kind of rhythm as they passed by more empty houses, Bruce moving a little slower to keep his eyes out for trouble. Sitting close to the river on the outskirts of the city, they were originally meant to be a long neighborhood for the middle and upper class to build their lives, but as the unemployment and crime rates rose, the place became abandoned. It didn’t help that the piping structure to carry water there had been faulty, making either lead poisoning or unfiltered dirty water a prominent problem and giving the section of Gotham its nickname.

“How do we know which place is the botanist’s?” John asked, his green eyes scouring the houses in front of them.

“I sent out another drone earlier for some aerial shots. There’s a place with camouflaged green-houses in the back on Aster Place.”

“Wow, you did that before I left? That was fast…”

“It was a quick job. I’m not picking up the other drone until later.”

They turned the corner onto Aster Place; the road would dead-end in a while, but Bruce knew the house wouldn’t be situated at the end.

“Oh, there’s the spot Jackie got shot at!” John pointed ahead. “I wonder if there’s a bloodstain left…!”

Bruce tightened his grip on the wheel. “We’re close.”

It was oddly quiet out there. There was no other sign of life in what was a hot-spot of criminal hide-outs. Bruce turned on the thermal vision in his cowl; a lot of the houses were actually empty for once.

Except for one. 1801 Aster Place. There were a group of people scattered around on the bottom floor and what appeared to be a lot of heat-lamps running on the top floor. If one of the people in the group wasn’t Pamela Isley, then she might have been holding up in the basement…

They left the Batmobile out of sight down the road, and Bruce and John moved swiftly behind the backs of the houses in the chilly night air, the taser bomb safely in John’s coat pocket; John was surprisingly quiet, only humming a familiar tune here and there. (Wasn’t it the theme from that old spy-thriller…?) Bruce managed to quiet him with a look, and John mimed locking his mouth shut and throwing the key away.

Two unknown people were standing in what used to be a kitchen; three more people were up in the front room of the house. There were no security cameras to be seen.

“Stick close to me,” Bruce whispered, the modifier in his cowl deepening his voice. “We go in through the back window, take out the two in the kitchen quietly and throw the bomb up front so we can cuff the lot. If none of them are Ms. Isley, we find the basement.”

John gave him a thumbs up, pulling out the riot baton he had hidden away. (Bruce had still not remembered when he or Alfred bought that, but vaguely remembered stashing it in the towel cupboard with some other emergency gear. He wasn’t surprised John found it.)

The bathroom window’s locks weren’t difficult to break. They looked like they had been broken several times already. Bruce slid the insect screen up and slipped in through the thin opening feet-first, twisting his limbs just right to softly land on the floor. He had to help pull John through the rest of the way after he smacked his head on the bottom of the window; thankfully he hadn’t made any noise, but he did give Bruce a strange look as brushed himself off where Bruce had gripped his sides.

Bruce didn’t have time to think about it.

The two people in the kitchen stood in semi-darkness, watching through the patio windows with rifles leaning against the wall. There wasn’t so much a bare bulb to give off light. Bruce figured their eyes might have adjusted to the dark, and signaled John to follow as he crept up behind the two goons.

“I dunno, with all the hype surrounding episode four, you just know those guys are going to mess up somewhere. Remember when they decided to let Celestyne drop to his death back in season one?” The one with dreadlocks asked.

“Oh, come on, that was just to test the game’s limits. Besides, Celestyne couldn’t die; I don’t think Jane can, either,” the second person responded in a higher voice with a casual shrug.

“Dude, you know the game’s gonna make her a villain in the end, though, right? She might die…”

Bruce was ready. John was gripping the baton with a widening grin…

“Are you kidding me? They have her affection meter up so high I’m surprised the game doesn’t have a dating opt-”

Bruce slammed dreadlocked goon’s head into the wall just as the baton crashed down on the other goon’s skull, little smears of blood marking the plaster and paint with a satisfying crack.

John clutched the collar of the goon he’d struck, gripping the slightly bloody baton a little harder in his other hand. He seemed to be thinking.

Bruce took a zip-tie out and cuffed the goon’s hands behind their back, and wondered just what John was staring at until he’d turned the person around and caught a glimpse of them in the light of the window.

They were both women with little tattoos of vines creeping along the back of their necks.

If Bruce guessed right, those were ivy leaves on the vine. Poison Ivy had a loyal gang.

John zip-tied the wrists of the woman he’d struck and patted the part of her head that wasn’t wounded. “Sorry,” he whispered as if she would hear it. “Lauren’s ex,” John mumbled, gesturing to the woman on the floor as if he knew Bruce had raised his eyebrow at him.

Bruce simply swept onward, spying the door for the basement. There was a light on in the front room, and three women who looked like they could be professional boxers of different weight categories were sitting in different areas. One was sharpening a knife at the table, and another was cleaning a semi-automatic rifle as the third kept watch over a monitor showing security camera footage; three looked to be by the greenhouses (Bruce recognized the Foxglove variety growing in one under an opening in the glass, sitting next to something that looked primeval), and two were watching over the plants upstairs (marijuana, by the looks of it) and in the basement.

There was a figure in the last screen, working over a row of potted plants with low lamps. A zoom-in with Bruce’s lenses showed long red hair.

Bruce felt a hand on his shoulder, and John crept ahead him, the taser-bomb in hand: it looked like a mass of the sticky-bombs grouped together, colorful wiring connecting them all like some kind of net, and before Bruce could do or say anything, John threw it into the living room, where it tumbled into the middle of the floor.

The group began to shoot out of their seats in a second, and in the next the ball seemed to expand like a geometric toy, the wired tasers being thrown in the air with a flash before smacking people and surfaces alike as they discharged. All three people fell to the floor in trembling heaps, and John dashed out and started to cuff them, Bruce close behind.

The electric bombs were safe to touch now that they had fully discharged, so Bruce had no qualm about stomping on the lightly-burning sections of carpet underneath some of them to prevent any spread of fire as he pushed them aside. The bulkiest goon wasn’t quite down for the count; she was still conscious.

She yanked John off her fallen comrade by his shoulder and threw him into the table’s edge. Bruce threw a Batarang at her arm just as she was about to punch, and John gave a swift knee to her stomach as she flinched.

She fell to the floor with a louder crash and a grunt, pulling the Batarang out from her arm and letting it drop to the floor. “You fucker…” She said, glaring up at John before looking over at Bruce, her eyes widening as he approached with more Batarangs at the ready. “B-Batman…?”

“Yup! He’s real,” John said playfully before smacking the side of her head with the baton. “And so am I,” he added with a growl. He decided to tie her wrists behind the nearest table leg. “I hate not being able to call myself Joker like this… Really sells it better.”

Bruce felt his heart twitch at the name. “You can call yourself that, if it helps,” Bruce said gently, tying the monitoring-station woman’s wrists together, “Just not to people’s faces.”

“Kinda defeats the point,” John grumbled.

Bruce shot a look at the security monitor – Pamela Isley didn’t seem to have heard anything. Still, precaution should be used. “Let’s go,” he said plainly, sweeping out of the room with a swish of his cape.

John tucked a hand into his pocket and followed.

The basement stairs were carpeted and quiet, but Bruce was careful to walk on the outsides rather than the middle. Spiders had clearly made themselves right at home in the damp corners of the walls, and he had to duck to avoid getting the tips of his cowl’s ears stuck in one of their webs. A soft sort of click was heard behind his back, and Bruce figured John had gotten out his grappling gun.

Pamela Isley was bent over a row of exotic-looking orchids posed under heat lamps, dabbing something into the center of a blue orchid’s petals. Bruce saw several troughs full of hallucinogenic mushrooms sitting on the other side of the wall.

“There you go, my darling,” she cooed in a honeyed voice, acting like she was carefully painting the center of the flower, “You’ll soon be the belle of the ball…”

Bruce eyed the electrical box on the other side of the room. It wouldn’t do to drown the place in darkness; he’d be able to see, but John wouldn’t. The best bet was to tackle and restrain her.

Or…

Bruce took out his own grappling gun, and aimed it at Isley’s collar. One click, and it snagged her shirt with practiced ease.

“What the-?!”

Pamela Isley was suddenly dragged yelping through the air at an angle, smacking hard into one of the tables and spilling several unusual potted flowers to the floor.

Bruce grabbed her and threw her to the concrete floor, standing over her with several Batarangs in his hand as John cackled beside him.

“Jonathan Crane,” Bruce growled out, “Where is he?”

Pamela Isley sat up, shock written all over her face as she processed exactly what happened – it quickly morphed to a steely stare. “Batman,” she said slowly in a sweet voice, “I thought you were an urban legend,” she continued, wiping the corner of her mouth where a dribble of blood leaked out. “Do you always treat a lady this way?”

Bruce dragged her up by her collar and threw her against the wall, keeping her at arm’s length. “I know he bought plants from you today. Tell me where he is.”

“Or what?” She taunted, smirking widely at him. “You think I haven’t been knocked around by men before? I’ve been in whole worlds of hurt, honey.”

There was the distinct sound of the grappling wire rushing through the air, and then an enormous crash – John had taken out one of the mushroom tables, the fungi now breaking and bouncing against the floor it the scattered in the dirt.

“Whoopsie,” John hummed, a wide unnerving grin on his face, “butter-fingers.”

Isley looked rather taken aback, but the expression quickly warped into a mocking glare. “You think destroying my inventory is going to intimidate me?”

John shrugged, leaning back against a table and knocking over a several small tropical plants with a slide of his hand, shattering the clay pots and sending the plants scattering to the hard floor.

That definitely got her attention; her face paled slightly and there was tremble in her. “Stop that!”

Bruce glared at her, mentally thanking John for his quick thinking. “Tell me where Crane is and I’ll consider stopping him from tearing this place apart.”

Her dark green eyes glared at him with a slow-boiling dislike. “Let me go first.”

Bruce did a very quick once-over; she didn’t seem to have a gun holster on her, and she was definitely a lighter build than the rest of her gang. Knives were still a possibility. He decided to let go, keeping a Batarang between his fingers just in case as he stepped just out of her reach.

Pamela dusted off her green turtleneck. “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care. He bought a few of my flowers and left,” she said, crossing her arms.

John laughed, fingering the leaves of the blue orchid she’d been attending. “With a hole in his shoulder? You didn’t even offer a band-aid for that?”

Pamela was closely eyeing the plant in John’s hand. “What if I did?”

“I know he’s a friend of yours, Isley,” Bruce growled. “You’re the only one who could know what he’s planning.”

“I told you, I don’t know,” she stated, “and I don’t care. I’m not his mother.”

“I can see why you were paying such close attention to this one,” John hummed, fingering the petals with a gloved hand. “It’s so pretty. You put a lot of effort into keeping all these, huh?” He grinned at her, almost looking like his usual self. “It’s not just some financial scheme for you, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Pamela stared at him, trying to keep her voice level; Bruce noticed her eyes kept flicking slightly downward, like she was watching the plant. “I breed and sell rare plants to collectors on the side.”

“Oh good! So this won’t bother you!”

In a swift move, John cut the blossom off the stem with the bowie knife one of the group upstairs had been sharpening.

The blossom fell to the table, and Pamela Isley looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

John picked up the blossom. “Let’s see – she’s honest,” he said playfully, plucking a petal from the stem, “she’s not!” He pulled another.

“STOP IT!” Pamela shrieked, making to rush at him – Bruce pulled her back and pointed the tip of the Batarang at her face. She glanced at it fearfully, but then looked back at the flower being torn apart in John’s hand, and it looked like she was watching a child die before her eyes.

“Stop that,” Bruce instructed; John hummed and held it still. “Talk, or my partner and I crush every plant in this place.”

Isley stared at the flower in John’s hand. “I… I don’t know what he’s planning,” she said quietly, her voice cracking slightly. John only touched the tip of a petal before she spoke again – “But-! But I know… He’s building something. He didn’t say what, but he asked for some muscle - I hooked him up with some of Maroni’s old boys.” She shut her eyes and took a breath before glaring at John like he was a complete monster. “I hope the lot of them tears you limb from limb.”

Bruce forced Isley’s hands behind her back and zip-tied them. “Down on the ground,” he growled, pushing down on the top of her head. John pointed the grappling gun in her face with a smirk; a good insurance if she decided to try and elbow Bruce in the face.

Pamela shot them both a hateful glare as she knelt down, and it didn’t waver as her ankles were tied, too. “I won’t forget this,” she spat.

Bruce sent off a message to Tiffany regarding the coordinates of “Poison Ivy”’s headquarters from his gauntlet. He knew she’d get the word out before he could even get back in the car. “Tell it to the judge,” he taunted, leading the way out of the basement, not missing the sparkle in John’s eyes as he followed, the severed, torn orchid blossom having been carelessly thrown at Pamela Isley’s feet.

John gathered up the sticky bomb device before they hustled back to the Batmobile, and it wasn’t until the doors closed that he spoke, and when he did it was in a tone Bruce would almost call revered.

“So, what do we do now, partner?” He asked, a definite glow on his face.

“We go look at some of the Maroni gang’s old haunts and see if we can find anyone recently hired,” Bruce said, the voice modifier in his cowl now disabled. He glanced at his recent text messages: one from Tiffany giving the ok on Poison Ivy, and another from Iman with the last known location of the stolen Ryde car. “After we look into the motels in the red-light district. Crane might’ve stayed there.”

John laughed to himself, but for once he didn’t share the joke; instead, he pulled out a packet of jerky from the plastic bag he’d brought along. “I knew this would be a long night,” he said cheerfully, as if he was really looking forward to the whole thing.

It was well past one in the morning when Bruce arrived back home through the front gate, the Batsuit stowed away and the plates flipped back to red. The two patrol officers were only somewhat surprised to see him arrive back. Naturally, they reported nothing new, since John had been dropped off in the Batcave first.

Sore muscles were nothing new to Bruce. The old strained climb back up to his bed was just as annoying as ever. He honestly didn’t feel like he wanted to sleep, but after following several empty leads over the city and bruising a few heads alongside John, he did admit that he was physically exhausted. He knew lying down was better than nothing, and he still had to go to work in several hours like he didn’t have a double life. At least he wasn't starving, thanks to John thinking ahead and buying him protein-and-carb-filled snacks.

He forced himself to go through his usual nightly routine, despite the temptation to just flop into bed and lay there. He looked at the bruises on his back and ribs from where John had struggled against him under the influence of Crane’s drug, and decided not to bother putting the bruise-away cream on them, nor on the new ones forming on his shoulder from where one of the former mobsters had hit him.

When he did finally collapse onto the master bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs, his brain still decided to chat away at him.

There were no leads as to who exactly Isley had hired for Crane. Bruce cursed himself for not trying to work the specifics out of her. At least he knew she was arrested for drug possession and manufacturing, as well as smuggling illegal fauna.

There was no word on the whereabouts of Jackie Lant. Her car was missing, and she’d called into work sick. Her apartment hadn’t been visited in the entire time Bruce had his drone’s eye on it, and neither Tiffany nor Iman had seen anything when they looked into Jackie’s friends’ places, either. All Bruce knew was that she hadn’t called an ambulance to fetch her from Toxic Acres, that she hadn’t been admitted to a hospital, and that there was no sign of her body either in the Acres or in the Gotham River.

She was alive, somewhere, and Bruce didn’t know what she was going to do next. He hoped she was just going to lie low until he caught Crane.

Jonathan Crane was nowhere to be found. His house was still empty. He didn’t seem to be staying at any of the motels – or hotels – around the red-light district or its surrounding streets, and nothing had come of a quick credit-card check. The Ryde driver the GCPD fished out of the River that morning had been shot in the head, and his car was so common that if Crane could’ve switched the license plate with anything and been completely invisible. They’d done a quick search of the warehouse district and found no sign of him there, either.

Bruce had the nagging feeling that he wasn’t going to find Crane until the doctor reared his head.

The billionaire rolled onto his stomach, shoving the anxious thought away as he pressed his cheek further into the plush black jersey pillowcase. There were a couple more places he could check tomorrow…

The bedroom door creaked, and Bruce’s eyes shot open, a second away from grabbing the billy-club under his pillow – he could see John’s messy hair in his dark silhouette.

“Bruce? You awake?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“…can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Bruce noticed he closed the door behind him. Like he was planning to stay there.

That definitely put a new light onto the situation. A tense thrill was building in his shoulders as John deigned to sit on the edge of the mattress, his back to Bruce.

John was only wearing his Arkham-regulated pants, and the pale white of his bare skin almost shone in the light streaming in from the window. Bruce saw several bruises forming, one of which was from where he’d gotten grabbed by the shoulder by a Poison Ivy goon, and several more where he’d gotten knocked into.

“…I don’t think I can sleep in that guest room,” John sighed. “I mean, I tried my usual methods of sleep induction, but… It’s too big…and empty. I’m really not used to that.” His voice came out quieter and more contemplative. “I know it’s weird, but do you mind if I sleep in here?” He asked, turning halfway to look right at Bruce.

He felt trapped. If he said no, at the worst John would sulk, and at the best John wouldn’t get any sleep, and that was definitely worse for his mental health. John had mentioned before about how regular sleep cycles were supposed to help with that.

If he said yes, though, he’d know he was sleeping next to John, and there was the tiny worry in the back of his head that John might…try something. Or at least roll over too much.

“I promise I’ll stay over on my side,” John muttered, not tearing his eyes away.

“Alright.”

A sweet smile stretched on his face. “Thanks, Bruce. You won’t regret this.”

“If you keep talking, I might.”

John giggled as he slid beneath the covers on the far side of the bed, flopping one of the extra pillows down between them. “There – a no-roll barrier,” he said as if he had to explain the concept to Bruce.

It did not escape Bruce’s attention that John had decided to lie facing him and rest his arm on top of the pillow. John had pulled the covers up to just underneath his armpits; Bruce could see John's sharp collarbone and the lean wiry muscle of his chest. (Bruce made sure not to look for more than a moment's curiosity would allow.)

God, John’s face was actually his for the first time that whole night. Bruce had gotten used to seeing it in the natural makeup, but it was almost a relief to see it in its normal borderline-luminescent white. He looked like the man Bruce knew.

Acid-green eyes stared at him, flicking slightly and growing soft. “I…did want to talk to you about something, though. If it’s okay.”

“I suppose I’m still awake,” Bruce said in an attempt to lighten the tension in his arms. “Sure.”

“Do you ever…look back on something, and think about the worst thing that could’ve happened in that situation?”

He didn’t like to admit it, but he had. Usually in his worst moods, he’d think about how everything could’ve gone wrong. He’d usually think about everything he could’ve done better, too. “I try not to, but…sometimes, yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking about our fight a lot, lately,” John confessed, “At Ace. I used to think about it a lot when I got recommitted, but… You started visiting me,” he said softly, a light smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You remember when I told you I thought I’d messed things up for us?”

“Yeah.” It was Bruce’s first visit to John. He never forgot the sheer hopeful joy on John’s face upon seeing him. It was practically engraved in his memory.

“Ever since I started sessions with Crane, I kept going back to that night. He always tried to weasel my worst secrets out of me,” he said with a low scowl, “but when he started using that…toxin on me… I kept…thinking about what could have happened back there. I… I know I almost killed you.”

The sheer pain reading in John’s eyes was enough to make Bruce want to wrap his arms around him. It was beautiful and raw and honest, and Bruce found himself holding stock still, almost captivated by the expression.

“I kept seeing it. Over and over – it was like I could see myself throwing you over the railing or-or stabbing you, or...” Bruce saw tears welling up as John clenched the pillow between them. “I don’t want to come close to that again, Bruce,” he managed to say, his voice starting to hitch. “I don’t… I don’t want to kill you.”

Bruce threw his pride away and grabbed John’s hand in his. “You won’t.”

“You…you don’t know that,” John said with a light sob. “If…if I…go back to how I was… If I mess up...”

Bruce squeezed his hand, feeling the soft skin twitch under his fingertips. “I won’t pretend you’re perfect,” he said, honesty seeping through every word, “but I know you, John. I know you’re not going after Crane out of revenge, like you did with Waller. You reached out to me for help – but you were already trying to find a way to stop him without resorting to just stabbing him with the nearest shiv.”

John sniffed, a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth like he was almost smiling. “Yeah…”

“So you’re not the same person you were then, are you?” He soothed with a supportive smile. “Even if you feel you are going backward, I know it won’t be to that same point.”

“Maybe…” he said with another sniff, looking more serious. “But Bruce, you know there are things I can’t ever really stop, right? The auditory psychosis is pretty much going to stay with me the rest of my life,” he started, clutching Bruce’s hand back, “and I’m not going to lie here and pretend my pulse wasn’t pounding a mile a minute when we were fighting those mobsters out there.” He sported a small knowing grin at him. “You know what that’s like, though, don’t you…”

(Yes, he did.)

“…you know what’s funny? I used to think one bad day could turn a person completely upside down.” John managed to stroke his thumb against Bruce’s knuckle, sending a little shiver over the skin, and Bruce wondered if John knew how incredibly intimate that gesture felt as he stared softly at him from the pillow. “Especially after Waller came to town… But…I never really thought things could go back up after it. I guess it just…takes a while.”

Bruce knew there was something right in John’s line of thinking. It only took one day to turn his life on its head, and he felt he knew, despite John having no memory of his life before Arkham, that something similar had happened to him. “Well…they say time heals all wounds.”

“How much passed before yours started to heal?”

He almost didn’t want to answer. The truth was that he wasn’t sure at all if he was ever going to fully heal, despite knowing what his parent’s really were. Maybe it was because he knew the terrible truth about them that they wouldn’t ever heal right. Maybe he’d always have that miserable note in the background of his life.

“…I’m still healing.”

“I didn’t say you stopped, buddy,” John chuckled with a knowing look. “Still…got good days and bad days, huh?”

“Feels like it, yeah.” Today…was definitely more of a mixed day. Looking at John across from him, though, all honest and open, and thinking back to how it felt to fight alongside him again, and investigate with him, with that warmth and instant familiar comfort between that never faded away, he almost felt like he wanted to call it a good day. “Today might have tilted things right-side up.”

John laughed, a genuine, humored one that was almost infectious. “Now I know I’m rubbing off on you; that sounds like something I’d say!”

John slipped his hand away and turned to lie on his back, still chuckling to himself. The warmth still burned in Bruce’s palm, and he found himself reluctant to pull his hand away at all.

John turned to him once more, an all-too-familiar affection shimmering brightly in the green depths. It pulled Bruce in and made him feel like he should inch close enough to feel the warmth and security it promised. “’Night, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, John.”

John turned over, leaving Bruce to stare at the bruises forming on his shoulders. There was the terrible temptation in his hands to shove the pillow between them aside and wrap his arm around the man’s middle so he could lean into that pale, battered back and bury his face in a head of soft, green hair.

There was a worse urge, one so vivid it almost made Bruce’s head spin – he could just reach out and touch the bruises, feather-light, and trail his fingertips down the curve of spine until it arched with a pleased shudder, and Bruce could follow that trail with his mouth as far as John would let him.

Bruce turned his head away, the memory of John’s lips on his coming to the front of his mind, and he shut out the mental image of repeating that kiss right then and there, telling himself that he really shouldn’t feel that way towards someone who desperately needed support, nor to his best friend who he’d left scarred in more ways than one, and certainly not someone who was both.

It had been a long time since Bruce shared a bed with someone, and far, far longer when he shared one with someone he didn’t have sex with.

He hoped that was all it was. Just the bed’s memory getting to him, and nothing else…

Notes: Super-sexy-plant-person-in-her-late-twenties Ivy is OUT. Cougar-aged-mobster-botanist Ivy is IN! >:)

I really wanted a different Ivy. I’m tired of the young, uber-sexy walking plant-human-hybrid that’s immune to all toxins and diseases; plants get diseases, too, and she’s so plant-like she should have some kind of physical humanizing weakness! It’s much more interesting to have a human who’s just built up an immunity and uses her babies for weapons and business; I kept her serious environmentalist trait, though, because while I dislike the anti-hero thing she’s got going on lately and would love to see her as a straight-up villain again, we do have to relate to her somehow, and her love of nature is always going to be a good part of her. Since Harley’s older, too, I figured it would be alright if they had a ten-year gap between them, so when Pam eventually goes to Black Gate one day, they’ll be pals. ;)

And Bruce you complete fool!!!! You should’ve kissed him!!! Why do you do this to yourseellllfff? D:

I'm sorry it took so long, but as you can tell, I had a lot to work on, and I’m doing my best to write the next chapter as quickly as I can while this nutty energy in my brain is still fresh. I’m trying to keep with my weekly schedule, but I hope you guys are okay with having a gap day, as appears to be the habit now. ( ._. ) I mean, no one yells at me or anything for being late, but I aim to please with my work, and part of that is being consistent.

I shall continue to try my hardest! (*｀へ´*) 彡3 See you next weekend!!!

#batjokes #telltale batjokes #juce #atbom #at the brink of midnight #fordarkisthesuede writes #I had a lot of fun coming up with a different ivy!#i like the idea that she heads her own gang despite being rather anti-people #like she doesn't even consider them when the JUCE force shows up #then again goons are rather expendable in the batman universes aren't they?#i can't believe i worked in a nod to TFS's playthroughs of TT bats #i still laugh when i rewatch the first season and they just let Selina drop #all because they were curious to see what would happen #so will ivy's info have an impact on future events?#only time will tell.........#also i'm serious about those writer vibes #i'm sending 'em all out #you'll all do great this week i can feel it #p.s. the ao3 chapters are already edited properly so i'll fix the tumblr ones asap

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especialty · 7 years

Text

‼️Submission Saturday Rules & Guidelines‼️ #naaruletag • how to submit: 1. read all of the rules & make sure your photo is following all of them. 2. once you’re positive that it qualifies, dm me your picture. all submissions go to @nudityasart on Instagram PLEASE don't post your submissions or send them to any other account, only dm'd submissions will be posted!! PS: when you send in your dm, make sure to add in which SS it is for (themed or regular), as well as your pronouns if you'd like, especially to my trans friends, to prevent being misgendered! ‼️RULES!!‼️ I have two accounts now. @especialtys being my main (educational/informative/selfcare), and @nudityasart being my second account (bodypositivity/submissions). Unlike previous account(s), all submissions will be sent (and posted) to @nudityasart. 1. when submitting, remember that it is completely anonymous, meaning I will not tag you and no one will ever know it’s you, UNLESS you yourself choose to state otherwise in the comment section. (If you’d like to thank people for compliments or just let people know it’s you, you can do so by commenting but besides that the only two who will know who is is, will be you and I) but this is for body positivity ONLY and a majority don’t want to be named, therefor it remains anonymous on my part. Please don't DM me asking who a submitter is, I know sometimes you want to ask where they got their clothing but I want this to remain confidential so just comment asking and maybe they will reply or someone else who knows will! Another thing, before sending remember that I am not at fault if someone gets upset about your submission, but I will kindly delete it if necessary (this has happened quite a bit, actually, between protective partners and rude friends. just send me the picture as request the deletion of the photo. only the person who sent the photo can request for it to be removed, btw) 2. PICTURES: for your picture quality; I ask that it be high quality and trust me, I know sometimes phones don’t have the best quality, but here are the easiest ways I've found to match my theme: -use natural lighting, like in front of a window, outside, or a naturally lit room. - camera flash (especially if you have a low quality camera) I know it's hard using your back flash, so place a mirror in front of you to help get a good picture! these are the only two ways I know of to get a good picture, but outside/natural lighting is the best way to go to ensure your photo matches and gets posted on my account! (ps. if you need ideas, use other submissions (posts on @especialtys could help too) as reference to how the photos should look, and pose ideas and picture ideas. I LOVE creativity!!) 3. censoring; this is a big issue with submissions because of Instagram so I need to address it. I can’t allow full nudes or any sexually explicit submissions because instagrams rules and regulations (and once again, this is for body positivity not send your genitalia to mooma. keep ya genitals covered. I, nor Instagram, want to see that so keep it away from me thank you) but as for nipples, yes you can send uncensored ones and I will censor them for you, (by putting light glares/stars on them. If you want to do it yourself but don't know the app: star/glare app is LINE camera! the sticker is "shine" last one with the saturation turned down so it's white) but I have to be extremely cautious with what I post on my account in order to not be deleted so I would appreciate it if you covered them with something, but if you don't that's okay too! I'll censor it for you! btw, your gender or sex doesn’t matter when censoring. I will censor any and ALL nipples! I’m censoring everyone's as a way to get some form of equality on my page. If one should be censored, shouldn't they all be? But, you can also use your hand to cover your nipples or use something else like paint, real or fake flowers, candies, (real) stickers, leaves, sea shells or pretty rocks/gems, small toys, (this will hurt coming off) tape, fruit/other foods, slime, compact mirrors, little pumpkins, small plushies, glitter, or anything of your choosing!! be creative and have fun with it, there's really no wrong thing you could use except for (basically anything digitally added except blurring or star/glare) emojis, or any type of edited sticker as well as coloring them out with the snapchat pen or any other type of pen, this includes background blurring because it doesn’t fit my theme at all and won't be posted. sorry! 4. no filters of any kind; I know!! a lot of you enjoy using the black and white filter or some other filter because it makes you look good but it doesn’t match my theme and it doesn't send a good message, I’m sorry!! please send it without a filter, because I won't post it on my account with a filter. 5. Although you don't have to be completely bare to submit, I would ask that you not have too much clothing covering yourself since this is for body positivity and it's hard for someone to compliment your body if they can't see it. If you aren't comfortable with nudity, you can always just take a cute picture of your tummy! or if you don't want to do that, a picture of your collar bones or your thighs? whatever you're comfortable with! 6. Don’t be rude to any submitters; I will not tolerate any form of negativity on my account. this is a SAFE place and I won't let anyone ruin that for me or anyone else on my page. do you know how much confidence it takes to post some of your greatest insecurities? a fucking lot. this is for positivity and appreciation!! don’t be a dick to anyone who posts, your comment will be deleted and you might even be blocked. Be kind to one another. Bring everyone who submits up, not down. prove to them how beautiful the skin they are in is. It isn’t that fucking hard and it’s free to be a decent human being!! 7. Please be patient; & don’t get upset when I don’t post yours right away. I receive many dms and pending dms, that it takes me a while to post them all. but occasionally, I don't receive dms so please if I haven’t posted yours and it’s been two weeks+ just send me a heart (sometimes you'll need to unsend and resend it) or ask if I’ve saved yours yet, and I’ll make sure to do so ASAP(: • AND REMEMBER: if you have any questions or comments regarding SS, feel free to contact me via dm or ask them on qoohme (the link is in @especialtys bio) and also via my remindapp (text "@mooma" to 81010, or get the remind app and add "@mooma") and I will get back to you as soon as I can! I love you all, don't forget to check the FAQ before asking a question x ‼️FAQ: • do I have to be following you to submit I don't see why you wouldn't be following me if you were trying to submit but yes, you MUST at least be following @nudityasart to submit. • when are submissions posted? every other Saturday for regular submissions. and once a month for themed submissions, unless I & the people who help post submissions have something come up that prohibits us from doing so, from twelve am Friday night to twelve am Saturday night! (CST) although sometimes it's started sooner than that. • how many submissions do you normally post? there isn’t any given number that I post. once I post a submission I won’t post another until that one gets twenty five or more comments. I do this so each submission gets a good amount of positivity. I don't want anyone feeling left out! for people who comment and the comments, please don’t put some unrelated comment such as emojis or something, actually take time (if you have it) to write a positive message about how a feature that caught your eye, or how strong they must be, or how wonderful their completion is or how you adore their freckles, etc. it doesn’t take much of your time and I promise you it will make someone’s day so much better. just say things that you’d want to be told about your own body but a little ps, saying "goals" or "i would die to have this body" or "I wish I looked like this" or "why can't I have this body" or any other self degrading comment is NOT a compliment and never will be a compliment. it will be deleted. bringing yourself down isn't what I consider a compliment, sorry! not only that, it could end up hurting someone rather than helping them! • when can i send you my submission? any day of the week! most send on Saturday while I’m posting submissions and that’s cool and all but sadly, you cut the likelihood of it actually getting posted that day by half because I post the ones I didn’t get to post last week, and then the ones sent throughout the week, first(: (I recommend sending them Thursday because I save them on Friday) • is there an age limit to submit? sort of, I’d ask that you’d be at least thirteen+ because although this is only for body positivity I am not dumb and I know some people may see it in other forms. so since instagrams age limit is thirteen I guess so is mine. although, if you’re underaged please do not send me full nudes (keep your genitals covered please. tummy pics, thigh pics, etc are fine, but I would be careful not to have full nudity so undies/bathing suits are a must) this puts me in a very awkward position. remember that your nudes are often considered child pornography depending on your state/region. and depending on your age. be careful kiddos. • if I send you a caption to post with my pic, will you post that too? yes yes! all you have to do is specify that you want your caption posted and bam! posted along with your photo ! • do I have to be naked to submit? not persay, no. not everyone is comfortable being completely naked, and I understand that 100%. but since this is body positivity, you can't exactly receive compliments about your body with full clothing so I would ask that you have minimal clothing. if you aren't comfortable with showing your stomach, show off your thighs or collar bones! • can I send you a selfie to post? no. sorry but this isn't a selfie positivity account, it's a body positive account so no picture with your face in it please. covering it with your phone is okay though and having your lips in it if yore doing a collar bone photo but otherwise no, please crop your face out. it isn't really anonymous if your face is in it.

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nabidej · 4 years

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freedomfaucet-blog · 5 years

Photo

AirDrop an unwanted nude pic and you could face stiff penalties It has come to the attention of the New York City Council that there have been certain disclosures of – ahem – intimate images, conveyed via portable electronic pocket telephones, that...

http://markethive.tv/blog/archives/507

AirDrop an unwanted nude pic and you could face stiff penalties

It has come to the attention of the New York City Council

that there have been certain disclosures of – ahem – intimate images, conveyed via portable electronic pocket telephones, that have been inflicted upon strangers in order to harass, annoy or alarm. If a bill introduced last week by the council makes it into law, legions of hands-down-the-pants photographers could be left holding stiff penalties. The bill would make it a misdemeanor “for a person to send an unsolicited sexually explicit video or image to another person with intent to harass, annoy or alarm such other person.” Anybody who gets caught beaming their junk out could be looking at up to a year in jail, a fine of up to $1,000, or both.

It’s called cyber-flashing, and it’s a modern-day version of flashing that dispenses with the need for a trench coat and sneakers to make a quick get-away. The term refers to the practice of sending obscene photos to strangers through Apple’s AirDrop: an iOS file-sharing app that enables users to send photos, videos and documents instantly over a wireless connection to anyone within 30 feet who’s left the feature open to being contacted by everyone.

By default, AirDrop is set to limit devices to accept content only from people in your contact list. Unfortunately, people often turn it on to accept from anybody and everybody, and then they forget to turn it back to contacts-only. That’s led to a growing number of incidents, such as what happened last year to a Huffington Post UK writer who reported that she’d been gang-flashed with 120 down-the-pants images while riding on the London Underground.

At the time – August 2017 – London police didn’t think that it amounted to an epidemic despite headlines about the ”horrific public transport craze.” However, the UK is ahead of New York on this one: sending indecent images is classified under section 66 of the Sexual Offences Act (2003), given that it’s the same as exposing genitals and intending that the recipient “see them and be caused alarm or distress”. The penalty for breaking the law is a prison term of up to two years.

One little problem: anonymity

Penalizing the propagandists of penises and other private parts is a satisfying notion, but there’s a bit of a hitch: AirDrop allows people to send images anonymously. It also keeps recipients anonymous: senders might never know who, within a 30-foot radius, has received their little package, since AirDrop only identifies nearby phones by their nicknames. Be that as it may. Donovan J. Richards, a councilman from the New York borough of Queens and a co-sponsor of the bill, told the New York Times that the legislation is intended to raise awareness, and to lessen the sense of impunity that emboldens

the creeps who send the pics:

If you do it, the message we are sending is that the repercussion is a fine or jail time.

AirDrop works via Wi-Fi and Bluetooth. A similar function has recently come to some Android devices in the form of a feature called AirDroid that offers wireless file transfer. But what makes iOS devices particularly susceptible to cyber flashing is that AirDrop automatically shows an image preview when it asks a recipient to accept or decline a photo – thus, there’s no way of not seeing the fleshy missive if the feature is on and open to receiving content from one and all.

How to not see the fleshy missive

The way to avoid having your eyeballs assaulted is to either turn off AirDrop or set it for use only between phone contacts (Apple’s default setting).

Here’s how to keep the creeps off your phone:

In the main settings app, select General, and then AirDrop. Then select either Receiving Off or Contacts Only. The Everyone setting is what the creeps take advantage of.

On newer iPhones, you can also swipe up from any screen to bring up the control center. Press and hold the the network settings card that contains the Bluetooth and Wi-Fi icons to open another menu where you’ll find an AirDrop icon. Tap it, and you’ll be presented with options for Receiving Off, Contacts Only and Everyone.

Article Produced By Lisa Vaas

Lisa has been writing about technology, careers, science and health since 1995. She rose to the lofty heights of Executive Editor for eWEEK, popped out with the 2008 crash and joined the freelancer economy. Alongside Naked Security Lisa has written for CIO Mag, ComputerWorld, PC Mag, IT Expert Voice, Software Quality Connection, Time, and the US and British editions of HP's Input/Output.

https://nakedsecurity.sophos.com/2018/12/04/airdrop-an-unwanted-nude-pic-and-you-could-face-stiff-penalties/

Susan Bennett

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katesunday-blog · 6 years

Text

Tinder, let’s face it we are all on it or in a relationship because of it.

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m a self-proclaimed, self-hating ‘Tinderella’……then again I did meet my husband through the app.

So, after being successful in the jungle of Tinder, here is what I have taken from the app. Some far pretty accurate descriptions of the guys I have had the pleasure of calling everything from wondering wtf to the massive mistakes. Being the considerate nurse that I am, I have provided you with insights into my endeavours with the lucky men I’ve swiped right to (and the odd super-like which was alcohol fuelled in the taxi home).

Generally, let me share to you the 10 types of guys that I’ve encountered on Tinder:

1.The 10 Fuckboy

Ok, everyone wants that hot man, some eye candy to wake up too……So I swipe rights and eventually swiped right to this sex god.

Ladies don’t be fooled, these types know that they are in demand and love the attention. You are not the only one that they are chasing and usually have a date almost every night, so know your worth!

So eventually after the first few chats we exchange numbers…..his first message contains a wink & tongue emoji so he is clearly a fuckboy…….. He had potential but wasted it. Others will send you bare chest pic (or more without much thought) in their first few messages…… another fuckboy dying for a wank and a few pics to add to his collection…..another wasted swipe.

Some typical signs of being a fuckboy include:

More than 2 shirtless pictures.

Sexual innuendos in his bio.

Mentions Netflix.

Tries to win your “heart” with romcom references.

His bio may say his “looking for that special lady”, but when you start talking to him, all he wants to do is get your Whatsapp contact so that he can send you dick pics.

2. The Funny Guy

So, my weakness are funny men, funny men don’t always have to be the clowns of the group making up for their lack of good looks. They can also be the funny fuckable.

Well laughter is a gift and a skill that’s inherent. Looking on their Bio’s and profiles, you could see the natural jokers trying to charm you with their wit. They are fun to talk with and having some sense of humour makes the conversation worthwhile. Although laughter is just a part of it. Life as it seems, a humour journey at times is a serious person’s game. In a couple of days, those laughter will just have a pause and be back to normal. After-all, these guys will make use of laughter to win your heart.

3.The Guy with Cars

Seriously, if you have a car does that mean you’re dateable? Congratulations you have a nice car, do you also have a personality? Hmm well it depends, hahaha. Who knows, was that your real car or someone else’s on your make-believe profile? To be honest women nowadays are more independent and finicky on dating guys. Someone who looks more responsible and decent doesn’t mean you have to have a car. It is beyond your profile photo that we look into, it is your personality and how we enjoy a significant conversation with you.

Signs:

(Simple) Photos of the guy in a car driving

Standing beside a car

A guy and a car with a scenic view

4. The Guessing Game

Okay I understand that! Looking through profiles and pictures of one over another, obviously you have friends!! There are 6 pictures on his profile and at least 8 different guys in each of them, so you have to figure out which one is him by using a complicated mathematical chart. But hey it’s Tinder, I’ve encountered a guessing game-like just looking into the guy’s photos. I was in total confusion as either was he the hot guy on the right side or the average-looking guy in the middle or the slacker at the opposite side of the photo. Expectations can be very disappointing when it comes to this.

Perhaps it’s their way of tricking us to talk to them and asking which one they are. There’s no right and wrong with this, but girls just be careful on swiping right if you are definite who you really want to date.

Signs he is asking you to guess:

His photo with his family, cousins or whoever.

Photo of him with bunch of friends.

Photo of him with people in a certain event.

If it’s a group shot, always choose the ugliest guy in the picture. That’s your man. And maybe that’s your thing! But if there is no photo of the man whatsoever, take that square, drag it to the left, and let’s never talk about it again.

5. The Nerds

Mind you, I myself is a secret nerd but it can’t be all technical on Tinder or else they will rather talk to ‘Siri’ instead. You will see them wearing anime or cartoon stuffs on their faces and etc. There are even those who wear costumes and hold a sword or some weapon-light sticks. Webcam photos are so outdated but there are still few who post with it. You can see their Bio’s flooded with the movies they like, books they read, the cartoons or favourite games they play. Basically, they also wanted someone they can play with. I once swiped right on a nerd, because he looks decent and we had a lot of things in common. In a couple of days, he become clingy, and I wouldn’t wonder why. But then it’s just for a few days of chat and I was out of it.

6. The Older Creep

The old man, we have all seen them, they lurk out there looking to feel young again.

I don’t know why people still conceal their age and keep themselves young at heart. Well other men will do the same, still stuck-up on their earlier days trying to captivate younger women on their leash. Perhaps they are lonely men looking for affection and companionship. But dude! Posting your cuter self-photos 20-30 years younger is a little bit too much. And the saddest part is, when you asked them for other photos or sleuth a little bit on their social media; all you can see is the same profile photo.

Nevertheless, asking them for facetime or skype will be a hopeless dream and will never come true. The best thing is you will meet-up and you will be appalled of how old he aged from the photos you saw. Don’t get me wrong girl, they can be very generous but who knows what’s next. Unless you want a fatherly figure or just be a little princess under his care, you have to be mindful girl (these old dudes can afford a better-looking angel like you) so there is no guarantee. Your pockets might be thick but when you’re asleep at night, you’d rather keep your eyes shut. You’d rather have an eggplant than a bitter gourd

7. The Faker

We all might be guilty of this, no denying it. With the latest smart phones and features on photo editing, it is very easy to look like a 9 when you’re really a 6. It is okay to use photoshop as to enhance our features and improve our presentation in social media but sometimes it can be absurd to over-do it. The tough thing is when you meet, you ever imagined that attractive guy in your Tinder dreams was a total disbelief. You will see him as a totally different person which will dismay you. Some even use photos from a time before they had hair, where not over weight or middle ages. Not that I am saying that this is bad or men with these things are not catches, each to their own but when you lie about your look, well, you’re a faker, and we have an issue with your lies.

We don’t have the right to judge others but clearly it is someone else you ever dreamed of from Tinder. But I do believe in randomness, who knows after a couple of dates and being compatible with each other it will lead to a better deal. It is not everything about looks. Indeed, physical looks are a part of the attraction but if you also don’t have any personality then u might be better-off ugly. Physical attraction is a thing but it doesn’t define you as a person. So, girl, just enjoy the experience and explore your options.

So, ladies just ask yourself if they can lie about their looks, what else can they lie about or hide?

8.The Hopeless Romantic

Oh my!! This is it!! The man of your dreams. It is the man every woman ever wished for. These types of guys are the ones who got most of the right swipes. Yes, it’s true, why? Because you just know it. What else would you want? He is charismatic, with the sense of responsibility, he had a job and very sympathetic. He will do everything to make you fall in love with him. I am planning my wedding in my head already lol.

He will seem simple on his ‘Bio’ on Tinder but he shows his sweetness in his own ways. He is the type that will be early on dates, offers your chair, gives u a lift and brings you flowers on your doorstep. He is the ‘gentleman’ in-short. He will not bore you but entertain you till your heart flatters. If you happen to meet this type on Tinder, you should know he is for keeps. You know what’s on your checklist girl and he is the one! This is the guy you won’t ever let go but be rational on your decisions. If he takes care of you with respect and dignity, then he is the one. Welcome a date with him and a relationship you won’t regret having will be on the way.

9.The Clinger

Looks can be deceiving. Who would not want to fall for a decent guy? They look great and seem almost perfect but the more you know them the more they show their insecurities.

They are the ones who seem interested to all the things you do and the details of your daily life. They seem to be so free with anything that has to do with you. They always message and replies to you immediately or calls you at night asking your whereabouts. If you are occupied, they seem to feel neglected and they will be jealous why you never talk to them or reply as soon.

They always wanted to be around you and your life. These are the ‘clingers’. Sucking your energy out and next time you know, you are also out from them. You have the liberty girl!!, as long as there is no formality, you have options for your dates and who you want to end up with. No one has to be controlling your time over others. Better be careful with these types of guys. Because you will never know to what extent they can do to control your feelings towards them. In Tinder, we have the options to select and till everything’s finalized, nothing’s restricted. Hence, you can opt for the best with your likings.

10.The Fuckwits..

Event-though how much you want to avoid it on Tinder but sure-thing you’re going to meet them.

They have the looks and the personality you are looking for. However, while getting to know them, you will realise they are lacking with so many things like manners, values and morals. They are the ones who acts ‘BIG’ but the truth is they are lacking. They speak first before using their brains. They are hungry for attention and know they are a big-catch so you have to do the hard-work for them.

They are ‘Big-mouths’ with not much of a substance. You asked for what’s on the future, they asked you “what’s your job?” instead. You speak to them on Tinder as if they can move mountains for you, but the reality is you will be the one climbing a mountain if you stay with this jerk. They will tell how how heroic they are on fights but sooner or later you’ll know you’re the ones in trouble because of him. Be careful on distinguishing these types of guys. Unless you have the same thrill and adventure you want with him but suffer the consequences. As these men, tends to put their ego and pride on the pedestal and be narcissistic about themselves. Be courageous to say ‘No’ if you are not comfortable to chat with them.

Indications:

Tells himself undergraduate with his bling on

He always like to show his front teeth with his big smile

Always ask you favours and tells you he will repay you next time

Talks about himself all the time

Well, I am not here as an expert but these are my own opinions and I am just telling these facts that not all women are courageous telling about. These are the common guys I have encountered and you will encounter eventually. I hoped these advices help you in dealing with your next Tinder date. I am a woman-advocate and choose to empower women like me. We always have a choice to get the best things we deserve. We just need to be more rational and smart on our choices. Tinder is a convenient way to spice up our social life but still everyone deserves to be respected and acknowledged on their unique-ness.

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Tinder Dating: Into the Wild Tinder, let’s face it we are all on it or in a relationship because of it.

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