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dceu_kinkmeme2016-04-14 12:37 am
dceu_kinkmod) wrote in dceu_kinkmeme2016-04-14 12:37 am
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DCEU Prompt Post #1
Welcome to Round One of the DCEU Kink Meme!
Please have a look at the extended rules here.
The important rules in short:
- Post anonymously.
- Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
- One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
- Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
- Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
- No prompt spamming.
Please direct any questions to the Ask a mod post. For inspiration: list of kinks .
Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun! Please link to your fills on the fill post.
Here's the discussion post for all your non-prompt/fill needs.
We now have a non-DCEU prompt post for any prompts in other 'verses (comics, animated series, other movies or TV shows etc.).
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Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Two
(Anonymous) 2016-05-23 02:03 pm (UTC)(link)---------
The few times he’s been admitted into the Batcave, Clark had assumed that Bruce’s vast array of technology was simply another manifestation of his extraordinary paranoia. The stacked screens, the feed that transmit directly from Gotham’s impressive security apparatus, the police scanner, the air traffic control scanner, Bruce’s own set of cameras set up in various buildings where Wayne Enterprises has security and IT systems contracts… all of it ends up in the Batcave, where Bruce – or probably more often, Alfred – monitor, filter, assess. Relentlessly.
What Clark now realises is that all these monitors, all that equipment isn’t really in the service of Bruce’s paranoia – well, not entirely, anyway. Clark now realises that if you’re going to cast your shadow over the whole of the Gotham underworld, it’s actually more of a necessity.
Clark glances down at the streets of Metropolis, a sickeningly long distance below him.
He supposes if he had equipment like Bruce’s he might’ve caught up somewhat faster on all the things that’d happened while he was… well, while he was effectively dead (and it still feels weird to think of it that way – that there were funerals, that people mourned him. That months upon months had passed while he’d been lying under clods of earth, until one day he’d simply woken up, and scared his mother half to death by wandering into the kitchen covered in dirt. He’s lucky the shotgun wasn’t in grabbing distance, or he’d be going through the whole thing all over again).
But given how shaky his powers were in those first few days, and given that Ma had never seen the big deal about ‘that thing, the internet’, he’d had to stick to print.
Some things, he knows. He knows about the fledging steps the League have taken into the world. He knows about the state funeral, and about Lex Luthor’s madness and imprisonment. He knows Bruce has been funding a hefty whack of the reconstruction efforts.
Unfortunately, he failed to catch up on a lot of other things.
Honestly though, he’s not sure it would’ve helped in this instance.
There’s not a lot a man can do when a 500-pound, hyper-intelligent gorilla who has just busted his way out of Iron Heights Penitentiary snatches you up and drags you to the top of a building – which has, ironically, only just been rebuilt, courtesy of one Bruce Wayne.
Not when he doesn’t have his powers, anyway.
Considering he’d been very much Clark Kent when Grodd first snatched him up, Clark’s intention had been to wait until they were at some suitable height, then slip out of the gorilla’s fingers and discretely divest himself of his shirt and tie, before flying back to capture him.
Of course, that plan had gone hurtling out of the window the second he’d felt the squeeze of Grodd’s fingers around his ribcage, the way they constrict the air flow to his lungs, and the nauseating way his feet had been swept out from under him as Grodd hurtled up the side of the construction site.
They were going a bit slower now as they reached the as yet unreconstructed spire. Grodd was groping for handholds. Somewhere in the distance, Clark thought he could hear a helicopter.
“Look,” he says, keeping his tone reasonable. Grodd’s an intelligent being, after all, which means he can be reasoned with. “I’m a reporter. I can help you get your message out. But I can’t if I’m –”
“If you’re spattered in every direction across the sidewalk, like so much spaghetti sauce?” Grodd finishes for him. “I know you’re a reporter, you cretin. That’s why I chose you as a hostage. Do you think I’m so stupid as to simply snatch the first person I saw on the street? No – if I’m going back to that hideous place, then I’m making sure The Daily Planet remembers me for it.”
Oh, Clark thinks. Well then.
The helicopters are getting closer. The wind – not something he’s ever had to worry about before – is biting into his skin the higher they climb. He’s shivering. That’s never happened to him before either. Clark looks down at his bare arm in curiosity, watching as his skin rises into goosebumps.
Huh.
Clark has lived amongst humans all his life, and yet, he still feels he’s learning even the first things about them sometimes.
The helicopter that has been tracking them swoops around in a close pass, and Clark doesn’t need any kind of super vision to see the grey sunlight glinting off the rifle scope as it angles in their direction. The small red dot of the laser sight traces its way up over Grodd’s dark fur.
“Fools,” Grodd mutters. “They won’t shoot me while I’m holding you – just another one of your sentimental human folli –”
Clark doesn’t hear the shot when it’s fired – but given it’s a tranquilizer dart that lodges itself in Grodd’s shoulder and not a bullet, he supposes he wouldn’t.
For a moment, they both look down at it in surprise. Then their eyes meet. “Sonofa –” Grodd says, and then Clark feels his stomach drop, the sky reeling down and the ground up as Grodd’s fingers lose their hold on the girder he’d been clinging to.
And then he’s dropping like a stone, the force of gravity grabbing at him in a way he hasn’t felt since he was first learning to fly, becoming a graceless, flailing bundle of limbs plummeting towards the earth.
Clark isn’t really sure what to feel – on the one hand, he trusts that the tactical response team would not have tranquilized Grodd if they didn’t have a plan.
On the other, the ground is rushing up at him, very fast and very large, and if there is a plan, Clark would really appreciate it if they enacted it round about n –
“Unf.”
Clark feels his head snap back on his neck, all his joints simultaneously yanked out of his sockets as something smacks into him. For a moment, he can’t quite get a hold of what’s happened; but then, he realises he’s swinging through the air, a strong arm around his waist, rough armour against his cheek.
Bruce.
Or Batman, rather. Swinging between buildings on the end of the Batline. His timing really is exquisite, Clark has to admit. And as plans go, he can’t fault it – he’s off the top of the building, after all.
Now if only his head would stop feeling like… well, like someone dropped a nuclear bomb in it. Considering he knows what that feels like, Clark thinks he’s qualified to comment.
Batman swoops down into a section of crumbled buildings that no one’s yet started to clear away, letting Clark drop to the ground. His knees give way beneath him, and he has to break his fall with his hands. He can feel – really feel – the tiny shards of concrete as they embed themselves in his skin, and when he looks down, there’s blood oozing out of a graze across his palm.
“What were you doing up there?” Bruce’s voice is distorted by the Batsuit – the first time Clark has heard it since he lost his powers.
He glances up, confused, before it comes to him that before, whenever he’d heard Batman’s voice coming from within the suit, he’d been using his hearing to filter out the distortion – to still hear Bruce behind all the electronic fizz. It’s strange to hear it now. Like he’s talking to someone else. Like it’s yet another layer that has descended between them, after all the time they’ve spent cautiously pulling them down.
“I wasn’t exactly up there by choice,” Clark says, getting shakily to his feet. He still feels like his body is still pulling itself together. His neck is killing him. “Grodd just grabbed me. Believe me, it wasn’t my idea.”
Bruce is silent a while, his eyes white in the blackness of the cowl. “Why you?”
Clark shrugs. “Beats me. He said he wanted The Planet to truly have something to write about him this time – something to remember him by. He knew he was going back to Iron Heights.” Clark glances over his shoulder, not sure if he wants to know. “Speaking of Grodd…”
“He’s fine.” Bruce’s tone is curt. “The emergency response team is more experienced in animal capture since the last time Grodd got out.”
Clark opens his mouth to ask, but then decides he probably doesn’t even want to know.
“Well… thank you for saving me,” he says eventually. His Ma raised him with good manners. You thank people who save your life, even if they seem, inexplicably, to be blaming you for your predicament.
“You need to be more careful,” Bruce says after another long pause. “Stay out of trouble. You were lucky this time. Next time I might not be around to save you.”
Clark isn’t sure what to say to that – saying something like, Well, I’m sure you will, seems to imply that he’ll both need rescuing again, and he’s come to expect that Bruce will be on call to do it.
Bruce shoots his Batline up into the cratered vault of the ruined building before zipping away once more, and Clark can’t help but watch as he goes, a quiet confidence building in his chest.
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Two
(Anonymous) 2016-05-23 03:47 pm (UTC)(link)Now if only his head would stop feeling like… well, like someone dropped a nuclear bomb in it. Considering he knows what that feels like, Clark thinks he’s qualified to comment.
He glances up, confused, before it comes to him that before, whenever he’d heard Batman’s voice coming from within the suit, he’d been using his hearing to filter out the distortion – to still hear Bruce behind all the electronic fizz. It’s strange to hear it now. Like he’s talking to someone else. Like it’s yet another layer that has descended between them, after all the time they’ve spent cautiously pulling them down.
And oh, this is so great and it makes so much sense, I love this idea. And I love how sure Clark is that Bruce would totally save him again. :D Thanks for writing and sharing this, anon!
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Two
(Anonymous) 2016-05-24 07:24 am (UTC)(link)I appreciate it very much! :DDDDDD Let's see how we go tonight...
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Two
(Anonymous) 2016-05-23 05:33 pm (UTC)(link)Ahhh, I love when Clark gets singled out for being a reporter. It's one of my favorite little narrative thrills.
And I just love his fascination with all the little things he's never experienced before like how cold it is or the feel of the gravel on his palms.
Oohhh Bruce, acting like Clark was waving a "please take me hostage" flag. And haaaa, you'll be around to save him so much more. I can't wait! Thank you once again!
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Two
(Anonymous) 2016-05-24 07:26 am (UTC)(link)And thank YOU! I really appreciate you letting me know you're enjoying it, it's so nice :D This fandom is so lovely.
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Two
(Anonymous) 2016-05-23 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Two
(Anonymous) 2016-05-24 07:35 am (UTC)(link)*cracks knuckles* A little more to do tonight!