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sundrop-writes · 1 year ago

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Miss Nectarine

Donna Troy x Fem!Thick!Reader

Miss Nectarine, jawbreaker sweet.

Summary:

Ever since the old Titans have come 'home', Donna has been swimming in stress and grief over the friend they had lost the last time they lived at the Tower. She unintentionally found the perfect way to combat that grief when she accidentally walked in on you in a very revealing situation.

Donna Troy x Fem!Thick!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut. Set during Season 2, Episode 7.

Word Count: 2,600

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is such a random fic lmao; this is primarily smut; this fic does feature spoilers for the canon if you haven’t seen the show before and you want to watch it spoiler-free; mentions of Titans!Bruce Wayne’s intense paranoia; mentions of background (past) Dawn/Dick; mentions of canon violence (no in-depth descriptions); mentions of Donna/Garth (but I never outright state in this fic that Donna and Garth were romantic in the past or if they were just friends - I like them better platonically tbh); mentions of Donna’s grief for Garth as a best friend; this uses the ‘caught masturbating’ trope - Donna accidentally walks in on the reader masturbating and all the lustful feelings she has ever felt for the reader come flooding toward the surface; there is no hard dom/sub, but Donna is more dominant and the reader is more submissive to Donna’s orders and whims; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; she reader is described as fat/plus sized (through a very loving gaze - Donna is very turned on by her body); accidental voyeurism (Donna watches the reader masturbate for a while); clitoral stimulation (the reader masturbating); the reader calls Donna ‘D’ (because that’s a thing in all my fics now); very clear consent is established before Donna touches the reader; mentions of Donna manhandling the reader slightly (using her superpowered strength, but nothing that would be incredibly unrealistic); oral sex/pussy eating (Donna giving, reader receiving); I believe that’s about it.

A/N: This is named after the recent song Miss Nectarine by Ashnikko, which is about someone struggling with their attraction to women and I fucking love the song so much - the second I heard it, it captured my heart. I highly recommend listening to it. Also, I feel like this fic is not my best work. Idk. I wrote it with a really awesome inspiration in mind (Donna lusting after a thick girl) but I couldn’t really get the writing flow down, and I feel like some parts of it are clunky. But I know that sometimes we should stand behind work that’s not our best, and people still might enjoy reading this. So, here you go!

...

Titans Tower was a place that had a lot of usual features. Things that no other home would ever need.

The large serenity garden in the center of the house that never seemed to bring anyone serenity. (It was likely just there because the Tower had been built for people who were city-dwelling chronic night owls, the type of people who never saw plants in their natural habitats, and needed a simulated one in the middle of their million dollar condo.) The large, state of the art training facility. The medical bay, stocked with all kinds of equipment and medication - including a freezer filled with spare blood, in all of the original Titans blood types. Which is something that would be insanely creepy to any outsiders.

And among the more peculiar security measures: none of the internal doors in the house had locks on them. All the bathroom doors, all the bedroom doors, the doors to the training room - none of them locked.

To a certain extent, Donna understood why.

The place had been designed by the most paranoid man on the planet - at least, that’s what Diana often called Bruce, and Donna had to believe it wasn’t an exaggeration, because Diana didn’t really believe in hyperbole. There were cameras in every single room, endless security protocols to breach the Tower from the outside - most of which Donna likely didn’t even know about. The place had been designed around its own unique, state of the art surveillance system.

So, there being no locks on any of the bathroom doors or bedroom doors was just another… quirk. Something implemented for security purposes without ever considering how inconvenient it would be for a person to actually live with.

It was something implemented with the idea that locks put barriers between the members of a team, and those barriers can create secrets. Secrets cause friction. A team should be one solid unit. That, and it can be dangerous, taking away precious life saving seconds if someone is locked in their bedroom while sick or injured and a door needs to be smashed up in order to get to them.

At least, that’s what Bruce had in mind when designing the place.

Back when all the original Titans had moved into the Tower, knocking became the most easily upheld rule in the household. No matter how much they argued over who did the dishes or complained about certain people making noises at ‘impolite’ hours - above all, it was a sacred practice not to barge past a closed door without asking first.

And as Hank taught them, whenever someone wanted privacy in their room, as a kind of ‘do not disturb’ sign: a sock was to be wrapped around the doorknob as a universal signal that the person inside did not want to be bothered. It was a good old fashioned standby that he had learned while living in a frat house that had shitty, broken bedroom doors with locks that often failed. It came in very handy whenever someone wanted their privacy to masturbate uninterrupted, to unwind and sob without question after a particularly hard mission, or - when Dick and Dawn coupled up - to fuck like rabbits without anyone else barging in on them.

Somehow, being back in the Tower, it was easy to forget that sacred law of knocking. Something about taking a five year hiatus from living in the strangely designed condo and wallowing in the tense emotions that being here brought back to her - Donna was more focused on the stress of Deathstroke and Doctor Light, everything around her old home that reminded her of the dear childhood friend she had lost the last time she was here. Her mind was a mess, and sadly - it was easy to forget about something as simple as knocking.

Over the past few days, her mind had been occupied by far too many things.

Doctor Light’s ‘escape’, and then his strange, untimely death. Deathstroke suddenly showing up again, and the moral conflict of harboring another one of his kids in the Tower. Which was made even worse when she considered that he would be an emanate danger to her - and to everyone else.

All of this stress was topped off, brought to a boiling point when Donna had walked into her room after doing some yoga and meditation with Dawn (trying to calm the rockiness of their minds) and she found a bottle of orange soda on one of the bookshelves. Not just any orange soda - the orange soda.

Her memories of Garth were painful enough - she didn’t need to be reminded of him like this. She wasn’t sure if someone was doing this to fuck with her, or if someone had put it there to try and comfort her. As an attempt at reminding her of the good parts of her past. If that’s what they meant, it wasn’t working.

As soon as she found it, Donna rushed down the hall to your room to confide in you. She simply needed to share this strange occurrence with someone who wasn’t going to jump down her throat with conspiracy theories or brush off her concerns. She needed a shoulder to lean on, maybe cry on. Maybe she needed to reminisce about Garth when she had banned speaking his name since she had re-entered the Tower.

She thought nothing of it when the doorknob to your bedroom turned under her palm with absolutely no resistance.

She found herself standing in your doorway, holding the bottle of warm soda in one hand, staring down at it like it was a bomb about to go off. With her other hand still poised on the lockless doorknob, her mind filled with stale grief over her lost friend - when she heard it.

A soft moan.

Donna’s head shot up toward the noise, mostly an instinct of her training. The sight she was greeted with instantly shifted all of the energy in her body from confused, saddened, and hurt to pure, blinding lust.

You were laying in the middle of the bed, your head propped against several pillows, making you look like a fantasy, purposefully displayed and laid out for her - and you were touching yourself. Your oversized, comfortable shirt was shoved up to sit underneath your chin, revealing your gorgeous tits, bared so perfectly for the eye to consume.

Your lounge shorts with your panties tangled inside them were tossed off to sit around your ankles, clearly in a haste to partake in the act of ‘self care’. (Something different than the calming yoga Donna had been doing to take her mind off things, but just as effective.) This left your wet, wanting pussy out in the open, completely visible for Donna to see, and she even swore that she could smell you - a pungent tang in the air that drove a carnal hunger deep inside her.

The thing was, as much as Donna had acknowledged in the back of her mind that you were attractive, and funny, and cute, and that your strength when facing enemies put an undeniable heat in her gut - she had never truly looked at you with this much lust boiling inside of her. Not until now. Because she had never truly seen you until this moment.

Well, up until this moment - she had seen you as a friend, as a companion, as a fantastic warrior, someone she always wanted by her side. But this was the first time she had seen you as a potential lover. As someone she so badly wanted to fuck.

With you laid bare to her like this, so desperately humping your own fingers and intimately visible, she couldn’t help but to stare.

Two of your fingers worked furiously over your swollen clit while you held a lip between your teeth, clearly trying to hold any noises tight inside of your throat. This was something that made Donna even more desperate to hear your sounds, to hear what kind of moans or whimpers you would make for her.

Your breasts bobbed in the air as your chest heaved - two beautiful mounds with peaked nipples, zagging lines of stretched skin where reality had quaked to prepare for your gorgeous muchness. This caused her eyes to trace down your quivering stomach; her gaze following the smooth rolls of your body that perfectly guided her eye down to the beautifully fat mound of your cunt. Your pussy was dusted with hair that was absolutely dripping with your need - so utterly soaked that you were beginning to form a small stain on the comforter below you.

Perhaps best of all - the wideness of your thighs perfectly framed your clenching hole, clearly so needy and yet untouched as you rubbed sloppy, increasingly loud circles on your clit. It was a space where Donna wanted to slot herself and be smothered by the perfect dimpled thickness of your thighs, wanted to feel the endless warmth there, encasing her in everything that was you and barring out the stresses of the world.

She stood there, frozen in place for too long, simply admiring you.

She still had her hand on the doorknob, standing in the doorway, and with your eyes screwed so tight with pleasure and concentration, she knew that you hadn’t seen her yet.

Part of her wondered if she should approach you. If she should be so bold as to assume that you would want her in your bed.

But when she glanced down again, she saw the orange soda bottle. And something in the back of her mind was reminded of that haunted past. Something that said she was never meant to be happy. Something that told her living in the moment only fucked things up. Everything she had done back then, it was karma, that-

“Donna.”

You said her name like it was the sweetest song.

A soft, delicate moan coming from your lips - not an accusation, not a griped yell for her to get out.

When she looked back at you, your eyes were even tighter with pleasure, your back arched slightly off the bed, displaying your breasts in an even more perfect way. Your fingers worked more furiously on your clit, clearly trying to make yourself cum with even more intent. Your other hand came down to hook under your knee, lifting your leg up in a way that spread your thighs even more. This made Donna breathless at the visible wave of slick that leaked out of you and the way your fingers dug into the fat of your thigh.

It almost made her jealous of the act. She should be the one grabbing your thigh. It made her entirely tempted to charge over there and simply take over.

“Fuck, D.” You sighed breathlessly.

It was clear in her mind: you hadn’t caught her. You were thinking about her as you were getting close.

Donna’s own pussy throbbed between her thighs, and as she clutched around the glass bottle so hard she swore she heard it crack. In that moment, she could almost hear Garth’s voice in her mind. He was chanting, telling her to ‘go for it’. Telling her that the concept of ‘karma’ was bullshit and she had to make her own fate. He would have told her that she was stupid to pass up an opportunity with ‘such a hot babe’. If he was a ghost, supposedly haunting the Tower, he would probably be her wingman in this.

Maybe it was his ghost, with a hand on her back, guiding her toward you. Whatever it was - in that moment, Donna felt the impulsive Atlantean side of her take over.

Or maybe it was the fact that she needed to turn away from all the grief - for the first time since entering the Tower, Donna needed to make herself forget about all the ghosts that haunted the halls. She needed to hold onto something real, something good that was right in front of her - she needed the real, tangible now.

She stepped fully inside your bedroom, shoved the door closed behind her. It was only with that quiet slam that you actually came out of your personal, lustful bubble. There wasn’t enough time for shock to take over as Donna abandoned the mysterious orange soda bottle on your dresser and strided toward the bed with intention and purpose in every single movement. You snapped your legs closed around your own hand, suddenly feeling shy under her ravenous gaze.

“Yes or no?” She asked you firmly.

She placed a knee on the end of the bed, looking at you with heat blooming across her cheeks. Her own chest shifted with puffs of hot breath as the lust rapidly increased her heart rate.

Of course, she would never do anything without your explicit consent.

Even though shock was still barreling through your system, unsure if this was a fantasy or not, perhaps a strange illusion blurring into reality - you managed to squeak out a reply. There was only one possible answer you could think of when she was looking at you like that.

“Yes.”

Donna nodded firmly and then moved onto the bed. Before you could blink, she had hooked both her hands under your knees and, using her enhanced Amazonian strength, she pulled you down the bed toward her. This caused you to let out a sharp squeak - a sound of delighted surprise at the fact that she could move you around so easily. Nobody else that you had been with ever could.

She placed both her hands on your inner thighs and spread your legs open like you were a book that held all the answers to life’s most demanding questions. She was glad that her hair had already been up in a low bun, because it was out of her way as she held your legs open with impressive force and dove in.

Years of unrealized lust for you came rushing out of her, concentrated on the tip of her tongue. Feelings that she had been holding back through intense, well-trained self discipline began to pour out the minute that her tongue met your mound. It was a demonstration of her sheer power painted in front of you as she flicked her tongue over your needy clit, fucking you hard and fast. She couldn’t help but to moan loudly at your taste. Sweet like a nectarine.

“Fuck!”

You moaned out, unable to take your eyes off the sight of such a gorgeous, goddess-like woman between your thighs. Your mind almost unbelieving that it was real - barely able to comprehend how perfect she looked with her pretty pink lips pressed against your cunt and her tongue working in hard, fast circles as she fucked you in such an utterly demanding way.

“Oh my god, Donna!”

Your muscles quaked with the effort, but you were unable to move even an inch to shut your legs around the intense, overwhelming stimulation that she provided. Heat shot through your body from that one point - from that beautiful place where her lips were sealed onto your cunt.

Donna felt the spasming of your legs, felt the heat pouring off you in waves, and she reached over with one hand and worked two fingers inside of you. This was entirely easy with how slick you were, open and ready for her. You moaned sharply and your face was twisted into a gorgeous pinch of pleasure when she glanced up at you through her lashes.

There was just one more thing that she wanted.

She popped off your clit with a filthy wet noise, causing you to whimper.

“Cum for me,” She demanded sharply.

You couldn’t help but to follow the order.

When you fell apart underneath her touch, you couldn’t contain your screams. Everyone in the Tower heard you.

...

If you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #donna troy #donna troy x reader #donna troy x fem!reader #donna troy fanfiction #dc titans #dc fanfiction #titans x reader #titans fanfiction

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thebisexualdogdad · 1 year ago

Note

Could I request a Roy Harper and Reader

Where Roy asks for help fixing up his suit/asks reader to help with a tie for a formal event/formal dinner date.

Roy has experience in this but wanted reader to do it

Reader clues in that he knows how to tie his tie and unties it to tease him.

(Dc comics version of Roy)

Roy Harper x GN!reader - the tie

*Ben Levin used as fancast*

The titans had gotten word that HIVE was sending a few of their assassins to kill a tech mogul during his yearly charity gala which meant the team was going undercover.

You stopped by Roy's apartment to pick him up as Dick had assigned you to pretend to be a couple for the night though this may have been an indirect set up since Kory had been telling Dick for months that the two of you had feelings for each other.

Letting yourself in with the spare key Roy had given you, you walk into his bedroom to find him standing in front of a mirror dressed in the only suit he owns, a loose tie around his neck.

"Wow Roy, you clean up nice," you say, Roy smiling at you when he turns around.

"You don't look so bad yourself," he laughs, giving you a once over, "lend me a hand with my tie?"

You approach him, biting your lip at how close you are to him now.

Roy looks into your eyes, making you nervous as you attempt to tie his tie.

Your hands tremble ever so slightly, you were a badass superhero yet somehow Roy Harper was able to make you a nervous wreck.

"I think that part goes under now," Roy says as you struggle to get through the final steps making you realize he fully knows how to tie a tie he just wanted to get you close to him.

You finish tying his tie, smoothing it down, "there, now you look even more handsome," you smile.

"So you think I'm handsome?" He grins.

You gulp, glancing between his eyes and his lips.

Two could play this game.

You tug on his tie, undoing all the work you had just done.

"Really?" He laughs.

"Since you seem to be such an expert you can tie your own tie Harper," you say leaning in so close you are nearly kissing him, "and hurry up, Dick scheduled our grand entrance to be at 8pm on the dot."

Roy licks his lips, intently staring at a certain part of you highlighted by your form fitting attire as you walk away from him.

He's broken from his trance by Dick's voice in his coms, "Roy are you and Y/N still going to be on time?"

"Yep, we are just about to leave," he informs him.

"Good, Kory and I are already on our way, Donna and Garth will arrive after you guys, then Gar and Raven with Vic running base of operations," Dick states.

"You paired me up with Y/N on purpose didn't you Grayson," Roy chuckles as he redos his tie.

"Well maybe if you just asked them on a date already you would be going out tonight as a real couple," Dick teases.

"Well maybe I'm just waiting for the right time to ask Y/N out," Roy retorts.

"Um guys, this isn't the private line," you state, Roy blushing when you peak your head back in his bedroom, "and yes Roy I will go out on a date with you."

"You're welcome Harper," Dick says and he can hear the others laughing through their coms.

"Shut up Grayson… but thanks…"

#dc imagine #roy harper imagine #roy harper x reader #x gender neutral reader #fic

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tenpintsofsundrop · 1 year ago

Text

The Girl Next Door

Hank Hall x Fem!Reader x Dawn Granger

Summary:

When you move in across the hall from Hank and Dawn, they become incredibly protective of you. When you ask Dawn for some advice to help your sex life along - she and Hank show you that everything you ever wanted has been right across the hall all along.

Hank Hall x Fem!Reader x Dawn Granger. Neighbours to Lovers. Smut.

Word Count: 5,600

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Based on this request from @star-mum.

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.

List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: there is a mention of the reader being sexually assaulted (groped) by a random outside man - and Dawn and Hank kick his ass, mentions of canon level violence (not super detailed), the reader is more feminine - it’s mentioned that she wears make-up and participates in typical beauty rituals, age gap relationship (I imagine the reader to be 22/23, Dawn is 27/28, and Hank is 32/33) and it is mentioned in the fic that Hank feels slightly ‘guilty’ about the reader being so much younger than him and having sexual feelings for her - but he gets over those feelings of guilt when he realizes that the reader is showing enthusiastic consent/has a lot of lust for him and Dawn in return, sub/dom dynamics - the reader is submissive, Dawn is very dominant, and Hank is dominant over the reader but listens to Dawn/follows her rules (but not really in a submissive way??), the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, the reader character is not a virgin (the reader character is very faux innocent), under-negotiated kink - all parties have enthusiastic consent during the situation, but it is not thoroughly discussed beforehand and no safewords are in place (though Dawn and Hank obviously use queues like any signs of physical discomfort and they would not outright ignore the word ‘no’).

Dawn and Hank are very protective over the reader (it could be edging on yandere, but I don’t know how you could categorize it), mentions of alcohol - partly background, and there is a mention of Dawn drinking wine before the sex happens but it’s definitely not enough to impair her ability to consent (there is no explicit mentions of the reader character drinking alcohol), mentions of porn/watching porn, Dawn teaches the reader character how to perform a blowjob using a banana, (though it is heavily implied that the reader is more experienced than she lets on and is just playing innocent), innocence kink/corruption kink (kind of?), the world ‘little’ is used to describe the reader or her clothing, but it is not meant to imply that the reader is thin/skinny - it is meant to say that her clothing is too small for her (revealing a lot of skin), or it’s simply an expression, the reader is referred to as ‘sweetheart’, ‘sweetie’, ‘brat’, ‘good girl’, ‘honey’, ‘doll’, ‘naughty girl’, ‘slut’, ‘whore’, hair-pulling (Hank and Dawn pulling the reader’s hair), Daddy kink (towards Hank), the reader gives Hank a blow-job, size kink - mentions of Hank’s cock being massive and how his general body/frame is very big (no mentions of the reader being skinny/dainty), slight sweat kink, spit kink, mentions of ball worship (as a fantasy - doesn’t actually take place during the fic), finger sucking, leg humping, orgasm restriction (put on the reader by Dawn), I believe that is everything. This is generally just filthy smutty fun lmao.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be much shorter, and the cut off for blurbs vs oneshots officially in my mind is 5k. So this is a full oneshot fic and not just a blurb lmao. Blame Star she causes me to get carried away. Often. (It makes really great fanfiction though.)

For reference, this takes place during the period of time when Dawn and Hank had parted from the other Titans (after Garth's death) and they were living in DC, before Dick and Rachel showed up there looking for help.

Also - the situation here is really similar to a scene in this fic and it's completely by coincidence (I guess these are just my bisexual thoughts lmao) but I love the difference in the context and the energy of both of these fics even though the actual situation playing out is every similar. I guess it just goes to show - you can write the same prompt/situation for fics a dozen times, and it will come out different every single time.

...

When you first moved into the building, you never imagined yourself becoming so close with people like Dawn and Hank.

In any other situation, you probably wouldn’t have been incredibly close with two people like them. They were both older than you, and didn’t really run in your social circles. An ex-college football star who had fallen a long way from his glory days, seemingly humbled a lot since then - who now picked up a lot of odd jobs, mostly of the handyman variety to fill his time. And a woman who could have easily been mistaken for a prissy primadonna on the outside, someone who was kind and down to earth, who filled her days teaching interpretive dance to combat grief at the local youth center.

You were a young woman, unsure and still forming a life for yourself as you shaped out how your twenties, and likely the rest of your life, were going to be. You were surprised when a fantastic job opportunity at a tech firm in DC made itself available. Seeing as you had recently graduated with the exact degree that the company had been looking for, you seized the opportunity to move states just to chase after such a prestigious job.

You had no idea how isolating it would be, being in a brand new city where you didn’t know anyone else, your family so far away. You had no sense of attachment, moving into a new home in a random apartment building just so you could start a real career for yourself.

It was only because of the kindness of those two people (who were random strangers to you at the time) that you didn’t feel completely lost living in that big, new, scary city.

Your friendship with them had started out because on the day you had moved in, Hank found you lugging your heavy boxes up the stairs when the elevator was out of service and - being the kind of guy he was - he couldn’t resist the urge to swoop in and help.

When you first saw him, you were slightly intimidated by his size. The fact that he was towering over six feet tall and built like a brick house of muscle did set off some alarms when he first approached you. But when he chuckled and made a joke about a teddy bear that had fallen out of one of your boxes, saying how ‘the poor little guy’ had fallen onto the floor, you knew instantly that Hank and that bear weren’t that different. They were both soft and cuddly and full of fluff on the inside.

It made you feel even safer when his girlfriend - a beautiful blonde woman came along - introducing herself to you with a gleaming smile. It was nice to know that someone with a calming presence like her would also be living across the hall from you. She helped to carry some of your boxes, even though you insisted that neither of them had to. All the while, Dawn nagged Hank, warning him that a previous ‘sports injury’ was going to flare up if he kept straining himself.

He didn’t listen. And when he tried to lug one of your particularly hefty boxes full of books up the stairs, he popped a disc in his back and you felt so bad when he bent over groaning in pain. It made you feel incredibly guilty, even though Dawn insisted that it was his own fault.

Dawn - who was surprisingly strong for her petite stature - helped you carry the rest of the boxes and even insisted on helping you unpack some of them while Hank sat with a bag of frozen peas on his back. The new friendship was truly cemented when you made them dinner the next day and brought it over to their place. You figured it was the least you could do after all the kindness they had shown you.

You felt so guilty because Hank had injured his back trying to help you and you wanted to do something to make up for it. But you had no idea that the injury had very little to do with the box of books, and a lot more to do with the fact that he had been kicked in the back by a drug dealer the night before. But that side of their life wasn’t something that Hank and Dawn were too eager to tell you about.

On the outside, they saw you as something - someone, so young and sweet, naive and unaware of the dangers constantly surrounding you. Because of the work they did as Hawk and Dove, they saw all those ugly things in the world - gun runners, rapists, drug dealers. Things they needed to protect you from that they never wanted you to know about. You were pure and sweet, something they were eager to protect.

It was probably why they grew so incredibly close to you so quickly - that sense of protectiveness. You were only twenty three, in this brand new city all by yourself, starting out a new job with predatory eyes everywhere, unsavory people eager to take advantage of you. And they were those sacred birds eyes above, those friendly people across the hall - the only people around who truly wanted the best for you. The only people who truly wanted to protect you.

It was probably why you fell for both of them so easily.

You could feel that protective blanket they put around you, even unconsciously, and you loved it.

You fell for Dawn’s incredibly sweet nature. With her helping you and giving you tips on everything from home decoration to make-up and self care. She made you feel pretty, and doted on, and always complimented you and praised you just to see you smile.

You fell for Hank’s subtle masculinity, and those vulnerable moments he shared with you. He made you feel safe and cared for without constantly asking to be thanked for it.

You loved him being there for you to help out with small home repairs - being there to fix your sink or help you hang curtains at a moment’s notice and wanting nothing more as payment than a cold beer from the fridge or a slice of pizza. There were even times when he didn’t mind you squealing across the hall to come and kill a spider you saw in your apartment. You didn’t know it, but he liked the feeling of saving you, he liked the joy it brought to your face when he could quietly declare ‘there, all better’.

And Dawn wasn’t much better. She liked to be your rescuer in other subtle ways. If you got a stain on your favorite blouse and she could return it to you in seemingly brand new condition, the way your face lit up put the sun to shame in her mind. She often knocked on your door with coffee in the morning, claiming that it was just easier because their coffee pot made more than enough for three.

You came over in the evenings to watch TV with them because Dawn had gotten you into cheesy shows like the Bachelor. And she often tricked you into watching ‘just one more episode’ until it was into the late hours and you fell asleep on the couch. She would never tell you that it was motivated by the simple desire to enjoy your peaceful, sweet face as you slept before covering you up with a blanket and retiring off to bed.

You would never tell her how much you enjoyed those nights either.

Whenever you woke up there in the morning, you would profusely apologize. You would tell them both how sorry you were for falling asleep there and taking up too much space, for being a bother. But Dawn and Hank would never accept it. They loved having you over and truthfully - you always felt sleepy and peaceful in their presence because you felt so safe with them.

This became particularly evident one night when you came home from a date bawling. You had big black streaks of mascara running down your face when you knocked on their door. It hadn’t even occurred to turn in the direction of your own apartment. The moment they saw you in such disarray, their hearts dropped with worry. Dawn began cooing sweet comfort as she took you into her arms; Hank clenched his fist so hard with feral rage toward whoever had made you upset that he nearly crushed the TV remote in his hand.

You had made the mistake of finally accepting a nagging invitation from someone at work who had asked you out over and over again. You thought it would be harmless, and at the very least, it would get the guy off your back once he saw that the two of you had no real chemistry in practice. Once the date was over, you had let him kiss you. The horrid, entitled man had groped you. He had ignored your disgust and your attempts to push him off you. He even tried to further assault you - the only deterrent toward him had been a harsh slap you delivered that put him in shock long enough for you to walk away.

You sobbed as you delivered the story. Hank and Dawn exchanged a cold look above your head as Dawn sat beside you on the couch, holding your hand and rubbing your back in a comforting way while Hank prepared you a calming cup of tea. It was a look that only said one thing: that guy was going to be paid a visit from Hawk and Dove. They stayed with you for the night - ate some ice cream with you, cuddled up with you on the couch watching shitty reality TV while Hank assured you that ‘you’d never have to see that asshole again’. (Of course, you had no idea what he was planning on doing to deliver you that assurance).

The next night, while you were in your apartment, working on some project for work on your laptop, they went out and found the guy. Dawn had found him through your social media and yes, someone like him was way too cocky to turn off his geotags. Hank held him down and Dawn showed him your picture, making sure that he knew to stay away from you - that hurting you was the reason for his broken kneecaps.

When you went to work on Monday, he had called in sick because he had some pretty grievous injuries. The working story was that he had been hit by a car.

When you told this to Dawn and Hank, Dawn gave you a small grin and Hank grunted ‘shame’ in the most utterly sarcastic way. You thought their reaction was strange. It caused you to develop the utmost suspicion that they had something to do with it, but of course, you couldn’t prove it. And it only deepened your feelings for them in the most beautifully strange way.

From that point on, they ensured that you always had them on call. They told you over and over again that if you ever needed a safe escort home, no matter what time, if you needed to feel safe at any time of day, no matter what, you could call either of them. (And on top of that, you didn’t know that Hawk and Dove checked in on you often if you were out on the town while they were out on patrol.)

It wasn’t long before you realized that no one else would be right for you. No one else outside of those two amazing, heroic, protective, kind souls - would ever make you feel the same way they did. And you definitely had to do something about it.

…

Hank wasn’t surprised when he came home that day and you were in his kitchen.

You practically lived at their place now, and he didn’t mind it.

You were someone he had come to like a lot - even if he probably liked you a bit too much. You were sweet, kind, cute. You were incredibly gorgeous. He wasn’t exactly dealing well with the growing temptation he had surrounding you. Especially considering that he was pretty much a decade older than you and he sometimes felt like a creep when his eyes lingered too long on you. But he found that a lot of the time, he couldn’t help it if you bent over in front of him - wearing those tiny little pajama shorts or those short skirts. Sometimes you even forgot to wear bottoms under a long sleep shirt if he caught you as you were getting ready for bed.

Dawn assured him that his attractions weren’t wrong, that it was only natural for him to want someone as perfect as you. Especially because she shared all of those attractions - she had eyes, after all. And if she had a passing thought that she might like women before meeting you, it was a deep confirmation inside of her after all the hours she had spent fantasizing about making you cum.

Dawn was firm in her convictions about you - how you belonged right between her and Hank. She was just trying to get the more hesitant Hank on board.

She knew that the age difference was the biggest thing that made him worry, but she told him over and over again that it’s not like you were some jailbait, naive little thing, as much as you sometimes acted like it. Dawn saw the way you looked at him, and she knew what kind of desires you likely held that they simply needed to help you unlock.

But Hank often warred with the instinct to protect you from all corruption and harm versus the deep underlying hunger to have you beneath him, being the one to corrupt you himself. And if it wasn’t for that guilt, for his fucked up issues - Dawn believed that they would have invited you into bed by now. But Hank hadn’t grown completely comfortable with the idea yet and she wanted to take it slow.

When Hank walked over to the kitchen counter and heaved the bags of groceries up onto the center of it, he realized what was truly peculiar about the scene as he looked at you and Dawn, sitting at the kitchen table.

Dawn with a half-finished glass of wine? That was normal. You holding a half-peeled banana that appeared to be half-soggy and glossy with spit? A bit strange.

The laptop sitting in the middle of the table’s surface, paused on a graphic frame of a woman with her overly plumped glossed lips around a man’s veiny hard cock? Not so normal. And it definitely informed the presence of the banana in this scene.

If Hank wasn’t mistaken - it looked like Dawn had been teaching you how to give a blowjob using a banana. It was something that caused a harsh electric lust to shoot through Hank. Oddly enough, it only seemed like a natural extension of the nights she spent teaching you how to do your own manicures because it was cheaper and the way showed you how to get the most out of a tube of lipstick by sticking a q-tip into the bottom. It was oddly adorable to see the two of you bonding like this, and insanely hot at the same time. Like a fantasy out of a porno that Hank definitely had not been expecting to walk right into.

The entire scene had blood flowing toward Hank’s cock, and he was glad that the dining table that the two of you were sitting at was on the other side of the kitchen island. It gave him something to conceal the slight hardness in his jeans that he was hoping he could mentally will down. He didn’t want to scare you or creep you out by having an obvious boner.

At the sound of the bags slamming onto the counter, you whipped your head back to look at Hank. Your face instantly hardened with embarrassment, as though you had been caught. You reached out and slammed the lid of the laptop closed, clearly wishing that Hank hadn’t had a chance to see it. The wide eyes and slightly pouted lip you gave him were too adorable. It was like you were waiting for him to tell you it was okay or ready to run if he said that he was disgusted with you, eagerly seeking his approval.

And of course, he wanted nothing more than to give you that approval.

“I’m not gonna laugh, sweetheart.” He told you, suppressing a nervous chuckle.

“It’s alright, honey.” Dawn told you with a giggle, taking another sip of her wine. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen porn before.”

“It’s fine. I’ve seen a lot worse in my time.” He confirmed this with a nod. There were probably things in his search history that would make you gag.

“You definitely got me curious, though,” He added with a chuckle, speaking about it as though he hadn’t figured it out already.

You went uncharacteristically silent, clearly shy now that the idea of talking about sex was present in the room. Your mouth gaped open and closed like a fish struggling on dry land, and your eyes kept flickering back to Hank, clearly still looking for that approval. He felt his cock swelling with even more blood against his will.

Dawn stepped in to explain when she saw you struggling.

“Y/N asked me to help her out because she’s got a hot date tomorrow night.” She told Hank, turning completely in her seat to face him. “She said she doesn’t have a lot of experience pleasing a man.”

Dawn gave Hank a very pointed look. In that kind of silent communication that only two vigilante partners could have, two people who always needed to have each other’s backs in the most important moments - he instantly understood what she meant.

Neither of them wanted you to go out on another date. They had simply been hoping that you would give up after that last disaster with the entitled bastard. Realistically, they knew that Hawk and Dove couldn’t ‘keep an eye’ on you through all of your romantic ventures. So this was obviously Dawn’s new plan. Make things friendly - distract you. She wanted to show you that everything you ever needed or wanted was right across the hall. She wanted you to see that you didn’t need to go on a dozen dates with a dozen different grabby assholes when two of the kindest people you would ever meet were right in front of you.

Hank could easily play along.

“I don’t think you’re gonna learn much suckin’ on bananas, doll.” Hank told you with a snort. “You wanna test drive the real thing?”

He tried his hardest to sound casual, as though he had no personal interest in you ‘testing out’ your skills on him. As though it wasn’t a perfect fantasy come to life before his very eyes.

You let out a shuddering breath as his words churned through your mind.

“You don’t - you don’t mean-?” You stuttered.

Your eyes flickered from Dawn, to Hank, and then down his body toward where the counter was blocking him at the waist. As though you were willing yourself to see right through the object and suddenly had the ability to inspect what was in his pants - wondering if that part of him would be just as intimidating as the rest of his size.

The way you bit your lip, slightly shy and obviously somewhat lustful, had Hank throbbing with full hardness.

Dawn downed the rest of her wine before she answered.

“Only if you want to.” She told you, shrugging casually herself, as though it were a simple conversation about what the three of you should have for dinner. She wanted to assure you that they would absolutely respect your consent. “I’m sure that practicing on a man like him will have you ready for whatever little guys come your way.”

Hank tried not to let his ego swell with pride at the comment.

…

That was how you ended up in your current predicament - on your knees for them.

You were kneeling in front of their living room couch, with a couple of Dawn’s precious decorative pillows helping to cushion your knees from the hardness of the floor. Because in her mind, a sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to hurt yourself while doing this.

You had your hands spread out on the muscled thickness of Hank’s denim clad thighs, with his impressively monstrous cock - most definitely proportional to the rest of his massive frame - pulled out through the zipper. You had your jaw stretched wide, lovingly struggling to accommodate it while Dawn guided your pace with a hand in your hair. All the while, she gave you gentle, sweet encouragement in her harmonious voice.

“Such a good girl for us.” Dawn said gently. “Make sure you keep your tongue flat. You’re doing so good, sweetie.”

The praise sent hot jolts right between your thighs.

You almost felt small in the presence of their looming figures, with Dawn’s careful eyes staring down at you and the sheer size of Hank’s muscled form. Especially because Hank’s shoulders were spread even wider than usual. His hoodie and shirt shed off because the entire situation was just too hot for him to comprehend, causing him to sweat already (a musk you couldn’t deny made him even more attractive to you). Both his arms stretched wide over the back of the couch as he gripped at the object with his large hands, making the wood of the frame weep with just how hard he was gripping it. He was heavily resisting the urge to reach down and grab your head and simply start skull fucking you.

Dawn had given him strict instructions not to. It was one of the only reasons she was even letting this happen. She knew that Hank could get carried away sometimes and forget his own strength. It was something she was used to, and she had more than enough strength and skill that his roughness was never a manhandling of her - it was a heated competition. Dawn was afraid that (while you had voiced that you definitely weren’t a virgin) you were too fragile and inexperienced to handle all of Hank’s desires right out of the gate, lest he accidentally scare you away. So she had to censor him a bit to help you explore your own desires in a safe way.

“You don’t have to take it all the way down, honey, I know he’s big.” Dawn chuckled.

You moaned in acknowledgement of this. Hank let out a choked-off sound, both at the vibrations from your mouth at Dawn’s words.

“But make sure you swallow - it’s like a suction, it makes it better for him,” She quickly added on.

You followed the instructions, causing a sharp pulse through Hank’s whole body as he felt the suctioning of your mouth against his cock. It truly tested his self control as he deeper resisted the urge to grab you by the hair and fuck your mouth.

It was something that left him struggling - his whole body rapt with pleasure, yet every muscle practically seized and shaking as he struggled to hold back. He was nearly insane, spread out against the couch as he held onto the plush frame for dear life. With Dawn contently sitting beside him, gently guiding your tender, warm mouth up and down on the hard thickness of his cock.

The feeling of your gorgeous mouth tore harsh rippling moans from his chest, bucking breaths from his nostrils that made him sound like a raging bull. It had him biting his lips in an effort not to urge you on or say terribly filthy things that he thought might scare you or cast a true light onto his perversions. He had swallowed down the words ‘perfect slut’ and ‘suck my balls’ several times now.

Especially with the feeling of spit flowing from your mouth and down his shaft, dripping wet and warm over his balls. It only made him imagine what your sweet, soft tongue would feel like worshiping over his sack and sucking his balls into your mouth while he got to see his overwhelmingly large cock flat against your face, making your head look so tiny by comparison.

The pace Dawn had set was practically killing him. Causing a slow burn in his gut, his orgasm coming on epically slow and teasing. He knew that if he didn’t cum soon, he was going to say something drastically filthy that he was going to regret.

He certainly didn’t expect your filthy mouth to act up first.

Dawn pulled you back, giving you a moment to get some air. This left Hank’s cock bobbing in midair as he throbbed with the need for release, a large string of spit dangling from the bright red head to your swollen lips as you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the cushioning Dawn had so graciously given you. She petted a sweet, gentle touch down the side of your face, and was about to ask if you needed a drink of water before you spoke up, shell-shocking both of their systems with your next words.

“How am I doing, Daddy?” You asked, your throat absolutely raw from the fact that his cock had accidentally bumped against it.

You sounded so fucked out and so utterly filthy as you looked up at them from down on your knees - your eyes slightly glassy with tears and a gloss of spit ready to drip down your chin.

Dawn looked at Hank with her jaw dropped in shock, her cunt throbbing from your words, expectantly waiting for his reaction.

Neither you nor Dawn were prepared when Hank let out a quiet ‘jesus’, and after a moment of recovering from the shock, he simply said:

“C’mere, ya little brat,”

And then he reached out, grabbed you by the back of the hair, and shoved you back toward his cock with intense force.

You had finally broken his willpower.

He began shoving you down onto his cock with force, fucking your face with a tight grip on your hair - essentially using your mouth like a fleshlight for his pleasure. He was only slightly canting his hips up off the couch to meet the touch of your swollen lips and your warm, velvety mouth, most of the effort put into moving you around him. It was something that had you moaning wildly around him, knowing that he was finally using you for his own pleasure instead of holding back.

Though Dawn was wrought with pleasure at the sight, she couldn’t help but let out a scolding ‘Hank!’ as she reached out to grab his arm, attempting to stop him. Your lids had fallen shut in what seemed to be a haze of pleasure and your moaning was obvious, but she still held trepidation because he hadn’t explicitly asked you first. And because of the gags that emanated from your throat as the head of his large cock roughly jostled you - something that only served to turn Hank on more.

“What?” Hank snapped at her, not stopping his movements even as Dawn dug her nails into his wrist. “She likes it.”

You moaned even louder in agreement, and Dawn frowned.

“Let her tell me that herself.” Dawn ordered firmly.

‘Let me fucking cum.’ Hank wanted to argue.

But he easily understood his girlfriend’s hesitation - so he pulled you off his cock with a noisy, wet pop. You looked more fucked out than ever, your eyes now ripe with tears, a thick layer of spit gathered on your chin and ready to drip down your neck, your expression absolutely hazy with pleasure.

“I like it.” You sniffled, a pleasured whine evident in your tone. “I love it. I want you to use me. Both of you.”

That was the moment it truly struck Dawn. There was no guy - there was no date.

When you had come nervously fluttering across the hall, fidgeting with the strings of your hoodie and shyly looking at the ground when you told her you were worried about what might happen if your date wanted to go to ‘second base’ - you had been lying. It had all been a ploy to get right where you were. On your knees in front of them.

She had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t even your first blowjob. You had been taking someone the size of Hank far too well for it to be your first.

Dawn grinned at you.

“Naughty girl,” She sighed.

She reached out and ran her thumb through that pool of spit on your chin, then shoved the digit inside your mouth, forcefully pushing down on your tongue until you gagged again. It was something that made Hank moan beside her.

“You lied to us.” Dawn tutted her tongue, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You wanted this all along, didn’t you?”

You nodded furiously while sucking on her thumb, and moaned in affirmation.

“Get up.” Dawn demanded sharply.

You looked between the two of them, and then Hank let out a sigh, hesitantly letting go of his grip on your hair. He knew that it was useless to argue with Dawn.

She took her hand away from your lips, and then repeated herself.

“Go on, stand up.” She told you, an air of pure dominance coming off her that you couldn’t help but bow to. (Well in this case, stand for.)

You rose up on shaking legs, and waited for whatever instruction she would give you next. You wanted to show that you were compliant, that you would be good for them.

“Take off your pants.” Dawn told you.

You eagerly rushed to comply, ripping down the zipper of your jeans to get them off your hips and kicking them off your ankles. When you moved to rip off the waistband of your panties, Dawn stopped you.

“Leave those.” She said, her voice just as commanding and firm.

You felt both sets of their eyes now fixated on the spot between your legs as you stood there in your underwear, socks, and a thin tee shirt. The panties weren’t anything special, because honestly, you hadn’t been expecting this to lead to sex. Just a plain cotton white pair that stuck to your cunt in a very telling way. The fabric absolutely seeped with a wetness that you had been trying to ignore as you heavily enjoyed the feeling of Hank’s heavy cock on your tongue. Now, as the cool air of the room brushed against that wetness, you found yourself unconsciously clenching your thighs, trying to seek some kind of relief against your throbbing pussy.

“See,” Hank said, motioning toward you - toward your visibly wet panties. “The little brat obviously likes it.”

The nickname coming from him made your cunt clench so hard that it was almost painful. You let out a whimper from deep within your chest and Hank held back laughter. Dawn smirked.

Dawn nodded in acknowledgement of what Hank had said - quite obviously, you did enjoy being choked on his cock and you likely enjoyed being bossed around too. It was the discovery of something beautiful.

Then, she moved a foot across the floor, kicking away the cushions she had set down for you.

“Lying whores don’t get cushions.” She said in response to your confused look. “Back down on your knees,”

You eagerly rushed back into your position between Hank’s thighs. You really didn’t mind the hardness of the floor against your knees or the way the area rug scuffed your skin. It would only be a good reminder for later that all of this had been more than a dream.

Dawn harshly dug her nails into the back of your scalp. You were expecting her to shove you toward Hank’s cock once again, but instead, she crooked your neck back in a rather painful way, drawing your attention toward her face. And then, she scooted forward slightly on the couch, and draped her thigh over the thickness of Hank’s calf, bracketing her leg with his and shoving her leg right between yours. You let out a pathetic moan as you felt the stiffness of her lower leg shoved right up against the tenderness of your neglected cunt.

“The only way you’re gonna get off tonight is against my leg.” She explained to you, her voice still velvety sweet, yet deadly authoritative. “Understood?”

You nodded vigorously, and she tugged harshly on your hair.

“Use your words, pretty girl.” She scolded you.

“I understand.” You whimpered.

You began canting your hips toward her, rubbing your pussy against the firmness of her leg. The feeling sent pleasurable sparks through your gut, and you couldn’t help the loud moan that you let out - something that easily made Dawn smile.

“Feelin’ mean today, aren’t ya?” Hank snorted, obviously believing this to be a harsh punishment.

“You’re lucky that I’m letting her cum at all.” Dawn commented.

It became immediately obvious to you which one of them was the more lenient one. (You would be taking advantage of that in the future.)

Dawn then shoved your head back toward Hank’s throbbing cock. You eagerly opened your mouth, capturing the bulbous head between your lips and letting her shove you down until you gagged on him.

“Now make Daddy cum.” She told you.

“Jesus christ.” Hank swore. “You better not start with that shit too,” He told Dawn offhandedly. Obviously he hated how much he loved Dawn calling him that name.

She leaned over to him and pressed her lips right up against his ear.

“Don’t even pretend you hate it.”

#sundrop writes #dawn granger x reader #hank hall x reader #hank hall x reader x dawn granger #dc titans fanfiction #titans fanfiction #titans #dc titans x you #dc titans #dc titans x reader #dc fanfiction #titans x reader

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butwhyduh · 3 years ago

Text

Alone Time

Garth of Shayeris x batsis!reader

Warning: smut, being cockblocked so many times. Canon has no home here.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out that you needed your own place in San Francisco. The tower was nice, free, had food and friend. It even made work simple. But there was absolutely no privacy besides at 3 am in your locked room and with certain metas, you weren’t even sure that was private.

You been dating Garth for a few months and there had been a learning curve for sure. He was not used to dating land dwellers and you had never dated an Atlantean and that provided a challenge. Garth learned gentle was not actually as easy as he thought. And you found Atlantean biology unique.

Garth had to hold back. A lot. The first few times he had gotten farther than a few chaste kisses had you pulling back with the intensity. “Softer, please. Not so rough,Garth,” you breathed after his tongue had darted in your mouth like a military invasion.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Garth had quickly answered, his cheeks reddened. His kisses had gone back to simply chaste. You had to encourage him to kiss you more because of his fear of hurting you.

Another time you came across something no land dweller had: gills. Garth had figured out how to gently explore your mouth and was pretty good at it and you finally had some alone time for once. You pulled back just enough to kiss along his jaw. Little nibbles and licks that had him moving toward your touch. Garth’s hands were feather soft against your skin.

You kissed his chin and down the center of his throat with your eyes closed and moved to kiss the pulse point that most air breathers liked but you felt something different and Garth kinda froze. You pulled away to look at him and realized you kissed his gills.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked concerned. Did that hurt? Or was it bad?

“No. I mean, it was just weird. I’ve never been kissed there. Kinda like getting kissed on the lung, you know?” He said with a little smile as if to say ‘I’m fine.’

“Not really. If you can kiss my lung, I’m in a very bad spot,” you joked and Garth chuckled and nodded. “But I won’t do it again if you don’t like it. On us,” you said, pulling hair from your throat to show him. “There are spots about here and here,” you motioned to your pulse points. “That are sensitive and feel good. They’re probably different on you.”

“Here?” Garth said, pressing his lips to your throat. You breathed in quickly and nodded. “And here?” He asked before straight up licking the other side. You moaned softly. You nodded and Garth had a mischievous smile on his face. He licked and kissed and nipped at your pulse points until you were holding his shoulders, making little noises.

“I’d say a similar structure on Atlanteans are here and here,” he pointed to spots near his collarbones. “As far as reactions.”

“Noted,” you said looking at the spots. “But they’re pretty sensitive on us too,” you replied before kissing them. You nipped at one spot and his gills fluttered slightly and you pulled back.

“Are you okay?” You asked and he opened his eyes confused. “Do you need water?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Well, your gills..”

“Oh,” Garth said, turning red. “You know when you breathed in fast when I kissed your neck? That’s kinda the same thing. But we pull from both the lungs and gills. It’s isn’t... weird, is it?”

“No. Of course not. I just didn’t know. The only time I’ve seen you do that was when you needed water,” you admitted.

��It can happen other times...” he trailed off.

“Don’t think twice about it. Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” you said before kissing his lips. Garth tried to pull you on his lap to almost toss you on the floor. You grabbed his shoulder to stop yourself with a yelp.

“Sorry! Again,” he said. “I forgot how light you are,” he said and compared to Atlanteans of similar size, you were probably at least 50 lbs lighter. They are so much denser in muscles.

“It’s okay-“

“Is Garth in your room? We have a mission,” said Kori knocking at your door and you sighed. Garth winced and shrugged.

“Yeah, he’ll be there soon,” you called. “It’s okay. We’ll hang out later,” you said before kissing his cheek and climbing off the bed.

“Yeah.”

——————————

It was a few weeks later and you were at the tower alone in his room. A pizza box sat empty on a chair and a movie played on a laptop. But it was completely ignored by you both.

Currently you were on top of him, with your mouth on his. Your hand had slid under his shirt and he was squeezing your breasts through your shirt. You pulled back and pulled your shirt off.

“Hmm,” he said making a little pleased noise before touching all over your bra. It and his shirt soon joined your clothes on the floor and you were flipped over. Garth had kissed down the column of your neck and across your upper chest before finally playing with your breasts. He left soft wet kisses across the skin before wrapping his lips around your nipple unexpectedly. Your body arched off the bed into his touch and you made a little moan.

Your phone started to ring and you smashed the side button without looking. Garth switched sides to give both breasts attention. Your phone rang again. You sighed.

“Do you need to-“

“Ignore it. We’re busy,” you breathed pushing the side button again. Garth kissed the valley between your breasts. He kissed down your stomach and you inhaled quickly with each kiss. When his lips were near your hipbones and his fingers were pulling at the button of your pants, your phone rang yet again. You groaned loudly before grabbing it.

“What?” You said roughly. Garth simply laid his head in your stomach to look up at you on the phone. “Now? Why on gods green earth do I need to be in Gotham, now?.... I’m a little busy..... not a case. Fine! I’ll be in Gotham soon.... I can’t tell you exactly-soon!” You said before hanging up. Garth looked up at you wistfully.

“I’m guessing you’re leaving,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I really want to stay but...” you said throwing on clothing.

“Gotham. Batdad?” He suggested and you nodded.

“Yep! Batman,” you said before leaning over Garth to give him a slow deep kiss while holding his jaw. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Sure. Be safe.”

———————————

It was almost 4 months and the farthest you had gone was shirt off makeout and honestly you were losing your mind. You were never alone. The tower was full. Bruce kept call you for minor Gotham emergencies. You were half a second from blocking him on your phone.

You were at your own apartment. After M’gann had informed you that you think loudly in an embarrassed tone while you were imagining Garth absolutely railing you in the kitchen as you stirred pasta, that was the final straw. You moved out of the tower and it was a little bittersweet. You didn’t have a perfect saltwater pool for Garth to swim in so he couldn’t stay over for days at a time.

But then again, you couldn’t climb into his lap and toss his game controller on to the coffee table at the tower. Garth made a small ‘oh’ sound before sliding his hands up your thighs. You grasped his jaw with both hands and roughly kissed him. You didn’t worry about being too much. He was Atlantean and could handle it.

You pulled back and yanked your shirt off and Garth pulled his off as well before attacking your chest. You held his hair in your fingers as he licked and sucked at your breasts. One of Garth’s hands slid down to unbutton your shorts. You felt fingers move into your panties to play in your folds. Okay, yes. Finally, you thought.

Garth kissed back up to your lips before sliding a finger inside you. You moaned against his lips. “Yes,” you breathed and you could feel his smirk against your skin. After a little bit, he slid in a second finger and your hands moved down to his belt.

“Anyone hooo-mme....” Tim called out before stopping. You froze in your position. You were both shirtless, Garth’s hand was in your pants, and you were frantically trying to open his belt. You turned to see it was much worse than you thought it was going to be.

Tim was staring at the ceiling, Dick had his hand over his face, and Jason was looking with a face that could murder. You both moved your hands and you went to get up but Garth stopped you quickly. His face was red and you realized he was obviously hard and only your body was blocking the view.

“What are y’all doing here?” You asked furiously. Jason was now also looking at the ceiling.

“We thought we would take our sister to lunch but I guess you’re pretty fucking busy,” Jason said. “Gillhead? Really?”

“That’s pretty rude,” Garth said with a frown and you felt him tense a little. You placed a hand on his chest to calm him.

“Anyways, we’re going to leave now,” Dick said practically dragging Jason along. “Lock your damn door next time.”

“We’ll call next time,” Tim said quietly.

After the door closed, you sighed before standing up to lock it. You walk back over to Garth with a hopeful smile.

“Back where we were?”

“Lost the urge. Seeing most of your brothers kinda does that to me,” he said and you nodded, sitting beside him.

“Yeah. Next time I am going to lock the door with traps so elaborate that it would make the Riddler blush so no one can come in,” you said and he smiled.

“Now I see the resemblance between you and your brothers.”

——————————

“Okay so I rented us a hotel room at a place I’ve never stayed under a fake name I’ve never used before and told the staff that we will have no visitors. I also paid off the bellhops and maid that we were never here,” you said pulling off Garth’s shirt as you walked towards the large bathroom.

“It’s it all necessary?” He asked a little bemused. “Pretty,” he commented looking around.

“They asked if I wanted it romantic and I said sure and they chose this but I can’t say that it doesn’t works,” you said as you both looked at the bathroom. Probably 15 candles were lit on every surface and roses floated in a giant stone hot tub style bath that was steamy with warm water. The room smelled faintly of vanilla.

Garth touched the water with his fingers while watching you pull off your clothing. You pulled off your shirt and shimmed out of your pants and Garth made a little humming noise at the sight of you in a simple shear lacy black set. It wasn’t crazy but was just perfect.

You suddenly felt a little self conscious. This was the first time he’d seen you without clothing on. Garth pulled you close and kissed your forehead and cheek and shoulder. “This might be a bit much but I definitely appreciate it,” he said. His hands ran along the lace around your waist before pulling you close by the ass. “Really appreciate it.”

You pulled at his belt and Garth shrugged his pants and boxers off in one move. Atlanteans were not really prudish with clothing. He pulled you to the bath and you both in while you still wore clothing. You yelped and laughed as some of the water sloshed out.

“I’m still dressed, you nut,” you laughed.

“I can fix that,” Garth answered with a roguish grin. “Shit, I forgot condoms.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you said, glaring at him. “You know what? I’m clean and on birth control. You?”

“Clean as a clam.”

“Are they? Are they clean?” You asked.

“Yeah, they clean the water around them and everything,” he answered.

“Okay, new info. We’ll talk about how bad clam metaphors are later. Anyways, I’d be willing if you are,” you said and he looked you over.

“Like I’d say no to that kind of offer,” Garth mumbled, kissing the side of your mouth. He pushed your underwear to the side and before he could do any kind of foreplay, you lowered yourself on his cock. You inhaled quickly. He felt amazing and it had been a long time coming.

“God, Garth,” you whined, just sitting on him.

“Yeah,” he breathed in the crook of your neck. You started moving. The roses and water sloshed around, ignored by you both. You arched your back in pleasure and he took the opportunity to hold your waist and pepper kisses all over your chest. He popped the wet bra off and tossed it somewhere unseen before going back to your chest.

You felt his abs and crazy buff arms. The markings along his skin. You almost smiled at the sight of both his lips open in breath and his gills fluttering slightly. He thrust up into you and you made a mewling noise. There was so many advantages of his strength. Garth held you up and thrusted up into you quickly. You gripped his shoulder as you saw stars.

“I- I- I’m close,” you gasped before clenching around him. Garth groaned but kept up the pace through your high before burying himself deep in release. You both rocked against each other in the afterglow.

“That was something,” you said breathlessly kissing him.

“Do you think we are done? I see a made bed in a hotel room. What an awful thing to waste,” Garth said giving you a look before picking you up leaving a trail of water from the bath to be bed.

#garth of shayeris #Garth of Shayeris x reader #Garth of Shayeris smut #Garth dc x reader #Garth dc one shot #dc Titans Garth #tempest x batsis!reader #tempest x reader

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writing-blog-iguess · 3 years ago

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Hi, can I request a fluff and angst fanfic about Damian x female reader? In which they're into an engagement mainly for business, but Y/N was insecure about it because she's a chubby cinnamon roll (which she didn't realise at all), and she felt left out by the entire Bat family. And so, during a true or dare between entire Batfam and their friends, Jon asked for Damian's type and he reply almost like a hint about Y/N, leaving his teammates wanting to see Y/N. They did later saw her, but somehow one of them said they didn't know Damian would fall into love with this kind of girl, which hurt Y/N unconsciouy and she ended up wanting to end the engagement. Damian chased after her and calm her down with Harley and Ivy Poison stop by and scolding the entire Batfam and League of how much they made their little angel felt leftout and threaten dear Robin that they would hunt him down if he's not gonna say anything clearly!!! AHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I really like Harley Quinn and Ivy Poison!!!!

I'm so sorry for how long this took me, but I couldn't stop thinking about it when I read this request! Anyways, I hope this is what you were looking for and I hope you enjoy it!

Life wasn’t fair, she knew this. Had known this as she grew up. But there was a small part of her that hoped that life would go her way once she was old enough to make her own choices.

But that hope was stomped down when she started high school and her parents planned out her future. The only good thing she got out of it, was that she was allowed to pick her minor when it was time to start university.

Throughout the years, she avoided the questions from the press and her friends when she suddenly became friends with Damian Wayne. The only ones to know about the arranged marriage between the two, were her family and the Wayne’s.

It was in an agreement that when they finished school, they would announce their engagement.

There was nothing wrong with it, but as she started to get to know the Wayne’s, she felt a little out of place. Like there was an inside joke or something that she wasn’t allowed to know. She knew people had secrets, she even had secrets. But sometimes it hurts.

Laugher broke through her thoughts, blinking at her phone. She dialed a friend’s number and brought the phone to her ear. As she waited for them to pick up, she couldn’t help but overhear the group of boys’ conversation.

“I didn’t think he’d actually answer,” someone said, after his laughter died down.

“Well, the rules say he had to answer so,” another said with a shrug.

“I’m more surprised by the type of girls Damian’s into.” She frowned, and watched them from the corner of eye. They must be some of Damian’s friends, she thought.

“You mean like that?” someone asked, gesturing to her. She frowned and furrowed her eyebrows as she listened to them talk.

She hung her head as her mood soured as they continued talking. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the prettiest looking, but she never thought Damian would be so swallow to go for someone that wasn’t her.

“Pumpkin,” a voice said, shaking her out of her thoughts. “You there?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah I am,” she answered, shaking her head and shifting her eyes forward. “I uh, I’m going to have to do a rain check tonight. Something came up.”

“Sure, I’ll tell Red. Let us know when you can, okay?”

“I will, thanks Harls.”

Later that day, she stood in front of the mirror, turned to look at her body. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the skinniest or the prettiest person. But she liked to think her personality more then made up her looks.

And well, she never really talked to Damian about it. Why he had agreed to marry her, or at the least, broke it off if she wasn’t someone he wasn’t into.

She tugged her shirt down and sighed. Maybe it was time to end it. It’s been nine years since the start of the engagement, and it wasn’t fair to Damian for being sucked into her parents' deals.

Making up her mind, she brought out some paper and pen and began writing. Once she finished, she stuffed it in an envelope, along with the ring and sealed it. Making a quick decision, she grabbed her keys and left for Wayne Manor.

When she arrived, she spent a few minutes just sitting in the car, wondering if she’d have to talk to Damian. That was the last thing she needed, for him to talk her out of it.

Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the car and made her way towards the door. She reached out and knocked on the door. She rocked on her feet as she waited, hoping Alfred would be the one to answer.

And her hopes were answered when she saw the family butler standing in the doorway. “Miss L/N, I wasn’t aware that you were dropping by. Shall I go announce that you’re here?”

“That’s okay Allred, I only came to drop something for Damian,” she answered with a small smile.

“I’m afraid he isn’t here at the moment,” he said, and she sighed in relief.

“That’s fine,” she said, and held up the envelope for him to take. “Can you, uh, can you give this to him when he gets back?”

Alfred frowned at the envelope she held, and she looked down. She was getting a little uncomfortable under his stare, and wondered if he'd say something that would change her mind.

“Of course,” he said, taking the envelope from her grasp. “Is there something you’d wish for me to tell him?”

“That’s okay,” she said, looking up to him. He gave her a sad smile and wondered if he knew what was inside. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around Alfred. And thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure, Miss L/N. I hope to see you soon,” he replied. She hesitated and stepped forward to give him a hug. He tensed at first and returned it, squeezing her a little tightly. “I’m sure you’ll be missed.”

“Thanks.”

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since she wrote the letter, two weeks of ignoring Damian’s attempts to talk. Two weeks of listening to her mother whine about the broken engagement, and her father’s belittling her about how she ruined everything. Two weeks of Harley and Ivy pestering her until she finally told them why.

“But you love him!” Harley exclaimed, moving to sit beside Y/N on the couch. “I don’t understand why you ended it, Pumpkin.”

Y/N rubbed her face and sighed, wishing they would just drop it. But they didn’t and kept going. “Because look at me!” she finally snapped. Moving off the couch, she faced the two and gestured to herself.

“I don’t look like someone Damian would marry! I’m not pretty or…or…I’m not a supermodel. And besides, I feel like I don’t even fit in with the Wayne family. I mean, look at the family. They all have looks and great personalities, they’re fun and adventurous, and their lives are amazing. And then...and then there’s me who’s just boring and average who could care less about adventure. I’m just...meh.”

She paused, wrapping her arms around her waist, trying to make herself small. It’s the first time she said her thoughts out loud. It felt a little freeing, but it still hurt.

“The only reason why we were even engaged was for a stupid business deal my dad struck with Bruce Wayne. I would like to add that Mr. Wayne didn’t even look that interested in the arrangement, and neither did Damian,” she finished, deflating a little. Finally telling someone about the arrangement.

“Oh flower,” Ivy said, standing up and pulling her into a hug. “If he can’t love you for who you are or only cares about looks, then he doesn’t deserve you. You should marry for love, so you made the right choice.”

She rested her head on Ivy and sighed. “But it wouldn’t have been a loveless marriage,” she whispered, “I love him, it would make it a one-sided loveless marriage.”

She felt Harley join the hug and she closed her eyes as tears started to form.

“You never cared about your looks before,” Harley mused, playing with Y/N’s hair. “What brought this on?”

Y/N opted to stay quiet and shook her head. Ivy called her name and she sighed. She knew they wouldn’t stop until she answered, and she was afraid of what they would do. This time, Harley called her name, but firmer. “Okay fine, but you can’t do anything stupid.”

Harley scoffed and pulled away to poke Y/N’s nose. “When have I ever?” She gave Harley a look and she just giggled. “Okay, so maybe there were a few times but I’m not letting you off the hook. So, spill.”

She rubbed her face and groaned. “I overheard Damian’s friends talk about how they couldn’t see him falling in love with someone like me. And they're right, I’m fat, and plain looking.”

“You are not fat,” Ivy said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re a little chuddy yes, but you're healthy and that’s all anyone can ask for.”

“What she said,” Harley agreed as she walked out of the room. She came back a moment later with her mallet. “Come on Red, we’ve got work to do.”

“What? No!” she called as the two made their way to the door. “You promised!” But it fell on deaf ears as she watched her two parental figures leave the apartment. Mumbling a string of curses, she took out her phone and sent out a message.

Damian ignored everyone in the room, and frowned at his phone. He stared at the two words like it was mocking him. It’d been two weeks of silence from her and the first words she sends him is I’m sorry?

Scoffing, he typed out a reply and just before he could press send, the door slammed open.

There was a collective gasp around the room as they watched two of Gotham’s sirens walk into the living room.

“Man, and here I thought we were going to have a quiet night,” Garth complained, leaning back against the couch.

“That’s what you get when you say ‘sure is a quiet night,’” Jon mocked, Garth made a face at him but chose not to say anything.

“What do you want, Harley?” Bruce asked tiredly. Damian had a faint feeling that this isn’t the first time Harley barged into the manor.

Harley pointed her mallet at the boys and smirked as they squirmed a little. Damian narrowed his eyes, wondering if there’s going to be a fight or not.

“A little birdie told me that you are making fun of girls like Y/N,” she said. Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. They knew Y/N? But she’s never mentioned that. But then again, there are things he hasn’t told her yet.

“Y/N?” Wally asked, confused. He wasn’t the only one, one look around the room told Damian that no one knew who she was talking about. “Don’t know who that is.”

“Mhm, that’s okay. She knows who you are though. And she’s told us what you’ve said,” Harley continued, “about how you don’t see Damian marrying someone who’s chubby, who is a bit self-conscious about who they are. Which leads me…” she trailed off and pointed her mallet at the Wayne boys.

They narrowed their eyes and watched closely to see what she might do next. Their eyes were especially on Ivy. She hasn’t said much during Harley’s speech. But her glare spoke volumes.

“Why is it whenever Y/N comes home from hanging out with Damian and everyone here, she’s sad?” Harley asked, and the boys widened as they realized who they were talking about.

“You’re talking about Y/N? Damian’s fiancé?” Jason asked. Wally, Gath and Jon’s head whipped around to look at Damian.

“You’re engaged?!”

Damian chose to ignore them and narrowed his eyes at the two. “What do you mean she’s sad? And how do you know?”

“Exactly that,” Ivy said with a shrug. “She didn’t tell us until today, but we knew there was something wrong. Said that she felt like she didn’t fit in, like you just didn’t care that she was there.”

Okay, so she didn’t say it in so many words, but that’s what Ivy got out of it.

She watched and listened as the Wayne boys tried to defend themselves. She raised her hand and they stopped talking.

“Is that why she ended the engagement?” Damian asked.

“She did what?” Damian’s brothers asked in unison. He didn’t answer and Ivy nodded.

“Better go fix it, baby bird,” Harley said, pointing at Damian.

Not needed to be told twice, Damian stood and left, ignoring the protest of his friends and family. He chuckled when he heard the groans of everyone as Harley and Ivy started their lecture on why you shouldn’t talk bad about people you don’t know.

It’s been twenty minutes since Ivy and Harley left, and she can’t help but wonder what they’re doing. She had almost followed them, but decided against it. She’ll wait until they get back for the answers.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up from her book in confusion. Harley and Ivy would have just walked in, and she wasn’t expecting anyone to come over.

Setting the book on the couch, she got up and made her way to the door. Her eyes narrowed as she saw who it was through the peephole. She bit her lip and debated on whether or not she should open the door.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N,” Damian said. He sounded tired, like he hasn’t been sleeping lately. “Can I come in, please? We need to talk.”

Sighing, she unlocked the door. He looked as tired as he sounded. She stepped aside and waited until he was inside before closing the door.

“You didn’t tell me you knew Harley and Ivy,” he said after a few minutes of silence. She shrugged, keeping her attention on the door as she answered him.

“I met them when I was in grade 10,” she mumbled, “was running from someone and I asked for their help. Since then, they’ve kind of adopted me.”

“Do your parents know?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think they would care.”

Damian snorted, turning around to look at her. She was still refusing to look at him. “I think they would care if their only daughter was hanging around with Gotham’s most wanted.”

“No, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t,” she argued. “They were the ones who signed my life away. I mean, the whole engagement was because of a business deal.” She hadn’t meant to, but she let the bitterness seep into her voice. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyways.”

Damian flinched as she dismissed it, and reached out to grab her arm. She tensed but didn’t pull away, Damian took that as a good sign, and turned her around. She let him, but kept her gaze on his chest.

“My friends are stupid,” Damian stated, surprising her. “We were playing truth or dare and I was asked what my type of a girl was. I didn’t think your first meeting with them would end our engagement. I wished you would have talked to me about it though, instead of that.”

She hung her in shame. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just, I don’t know. On top of what your friends said, and the whole arranged marriage thing, I didn’t want to marry someone who doesn’t love me back.”

She froze when she realized what she said. She shut her eyes, and covered her face with her hands, willing the flush on her cheeks to go away. But it didn’t.

“You love me?” Damian asked, and she could hear the smirk. She didn’t say anything, she just nodded. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She shrugged. Damian huffed out a laugh, and gently pried her hands off her face. When she still didn’t look up, he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up. “I love you too.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at him dumbfounded. He gave her a soft smile and leaned forward a little, resting his forehead on hers. “I love the way you are now, and I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

“Do you really mean that?” she asked quietly. So quietly, he almost didn’t catch it. He nodded.

“With all my heart.”

She looked at him, looking to see if he was lying. When all she found was the truth, she closed the distance and kissed him. She bundled up his shirt as he cupped her cheeks gently. She put all her love into that kiss, and he eagerly matched her pace.

When they needed air, she pulled back and smiled when he followed after her.

“So, does that mean we can get married now?” Damian asked. She pretended to think about it, and he poked her sides a little.

“I guess so,” she answered with a laugh. He pulled her into a hug, which she returned, nuzzling her face in his shirt. “Are we still waiting until we’re done with school?”

“Would give us time to get to know each other. Really get to know each other,” he added when she was about to say something. “And maybe this time around, you’ll feel like you fit in with my family.”

“Wow, they left nothing out, did they?” she questioned. Damian chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Damian.”

“I love you too.”

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne #bruce wayne #harley quinn #poison ivy #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #wally west #jon kent #garth logan #beastboy #batman imagine #dc imagine #requested by anon #my writing

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astralis01 · 4 years ago

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Dick Grayson X Reader: New Year’s Eve

This is loosely based on the comics of Titans, the issue ‘Titans Save The Holidays.’

The Titans wanted to avoid any mask related work on Christmas, but New Year’s Eve, that’s a different story altogether. Donna’s tells everyone that Nightwing’s hunch was right. This whole rampage was to steal some STAR Labs devices.

Nightwing tells everyone, “Hey, not to worry. As fast as they are, these two will never suc-”

And he was pushed out of the way by (Y/n), clad in her (H/n) costume, narrowly saving him from the car run by the two maniacs, Honey Bun and Dingdong Daddy. Dick leaned over and kissed her on the lips and said, “My knight is shining kevlar.” She fires a hook into the car and whispers into his ear, “Well, my damsel in distress needed me.” Then Dick asked mockingly, “Leaving so soon, we just started.”

(Y/n) tells everyone, “Gather up people, we are going to tail them liter--. Ok, not cool. Slow down. Hey, ‘Wing, can’t we put them behind the bars for over speeding?” Nightwing did not answer, holding onto her for his dear life.

As Daddy moves through the street, Roy moves into position. Once Roy is ready, he shouts that he has a clear shot of Honey’s robot wirings underneath the skinsuit and warned them to get ready to hit Daddy.

As Roy fires the arrow, the arrow breaks and Honey Bun tells him, “You think that some cheap shot will work on me twice? My man had me armored up and super-charged.

Daddy rides down the building that he was on towards Roy causing him to jump out of the way. (Y/n), giving the reins to Dick, shot another grapple gun , and swooped in to save Roy. “Consider yourselves lucky. No one offered us any money to kill you , idiots, tonight.” With that Daddy drives away.

The rest of the Titans gather except for Wally. (Y/n) was still holding Roy, princess style and Roy said, “Hey (N/n), you can put me down now. Grayson’s getting jealous.” (Y/n) eyes widened behind the mask and then a lazy smirk appeared on her face as she put down Roy.

Roy ignores the flirty looks that (H/n) and Nightwing were exchanging and said, “There is no way we will be again to catch these two before midnight, now.”

Lilith asks, “Is this why you brought us here so that he can kiss some party girls? I just happen to pass some on her way over.”

Dick then said, “I’m sorry that he wanted to play tourist.” Then Roy stops them and says, “No. But it is great that you think so highly of my intentions.” (Y/n) steps in and says, “Roy, I know that you wanted to mark this year as a new beginning but we have to catch those two idiots.”

Roy smiled gratefully at her and then turned again at the others to shout and said, “You want to know the real reason why I brought you all together here on New Year’s Eve? Well, even though I don’t like talking about my addiction and recovery, I felt how powerful and positive it would be to mark a new beginning. Like starting a new chapter. That is why I’ve always liked New Year’s Eve. It gives me time to reflect on what’s important. Break the bad, focus on the good. I just wanted to celebrate a fresh start with everyone.”

Lilith then apologizes to Roy for her earlier comment and then Roy shrugs off the apology. Then, Dick’s face lightens up and say, “That’s it. We don’t have to capture them, we have to just push their buttons.” (Y/n) then says, “Awesome idea. Let’s do it.” Donna then says, “Before that, Nightwing and (H/n), please stop giving each other flirty glances.” Garth agrees and says, “Yeah, it’s annoying.” Dick and (Y/n) look and each other cheekily and then say in sync, “Who said we were?”

A little while later, Lilith catches up to Daddy and Honey and tells them, “Why are you leaving so early? How about we settle this over a race. If they win, the Titans won’t come after them that is if he’s not too scared.” Daddy spins around and heads back.

Roy tells Dick, “Breaking into a car is not want I meant by a fresh start. I wanted to leave this life behind. (N/n), tell your boyfriend to stop bullying me.” (Y/n) shrugged and said, “If there is any damage, he has his Dad to pay for it.” With that, both of them start crackling and Dick pouts at them.

With that, Roy pulls up next to Daddy and then Honey says, “This is going to be a straight race. If we win, you Titans will leave us.”

Lilith then does the countdown and as she shouts, the two cars beat down the street. Daddy pulls up far ahead of Roy and as Daddy’s car reaches the finish line, Donna and Garth come out in front of them and toss the car. Honey falls out of the car as Daddy and the car goes and falls into the water below.

Just as Donna and Garth were about to celebrate their victory, Honey pulls out her cannon arm. Just as she was about to shoot at them, an arrow and a piece of metal come whizzing by and sticking into Honey’s arm and shocking her. Roy says, “Even if you have updates, you’re still made out of metal.” (Y/n) shrugs and says, “Physics always has been my favorite subject.”

After putting Daddy and Honey in jail, the Titans stood on top of a building, admiring the view. Garth says, “Sorry Roy, you could not see the fireworks.” Roy shrugs and says, “It isn’t the fireworks, it is the revolutions we make.” Donna looks around and asks, “Where are Dick and (Y/n), I just saw them a few minutes ago.”

Dick and (Y/n) were snogging each other when Roy popped up and said, “Come on guys, suck each other’s face later. Celebrate with us.” (Y/n) laughed and all three of them joined the other Titans on the rooftop. Donna then leans in to kiss Roy on the cheek and his face changes to the color of the costume. (Y/n) jokes and says, “Roy, you would put a Spanish tomato to shame with how much red you are sporting.” Lilith then adds, “Roy finally got the kiss he was hoping for.”

Roy then smiles and says, “It is mostly on the lips, you know?” Garth then leans over, trying to kiss Roy on the lips and says, “Like this?” All the Titans burst out laughing while Dick’s arms slowly wrap around (Y/n)’s waist and she leans into him, enjoying the new year with her boyfriend and best friends.

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kaitlynpcallmebeepme · 3 years ago

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Time-out

Jason x Reader

Idea: Jason keeps seeing a girl while he's out as robin or with the titans and she keeps disappearing before his eyes as soon as he asks if she needs help or something. Turns out she can freeze time and she's painfully shy so whenever Jason tries to say anything, she freezes time and hides in another spot. She reveals herself to Jason when she feels bad that the team is calling him crazy. The stopwatch is embedded into her chest and she doesn't remember much about that part. She can later be introduced to the team after Jason convinces Dick that she's real and she can meet everyone and possibly join the team.

Requested: Nope

Author’s Note: I also haven’t finished the first season of DC Titans. I’ve been having a bit of writer's block where I have a lot of ideas written down but just don’t have a ton of ideas or motivation to write them. Sorry, this took so long to get up. My art below is what I was imagining the stopwatch would look like. I also couldn't resist some brotherliness between Jason and Gar. The power idea came from a Penguins of Madagascar episode. Tell me if you want a part 2. Requests are still open.

Warning: Lots of swearing. It’s Jason, what did you expect. Also, some creepy dude from Arkham that I made up. Also, Dick is a little bit of an asshole. This is supposed to be when the Titans are helping out in Gotham. The only spot I can think of in the show where it would be is the end of season 2 or very beginning of season 3.

Word Count: 2,517 Damn this is long

Jason POV

It was a riot at Arkham. Not the most common day thing we see, but it’s nice to not deal with a ton of people with powers. Just assholes who think that they have the right to be powerful. Some of the slippery ones that weren't superpowered got a couple of blocks away, so that was my and Garth’s job. Find these stragglers and drag their asses back. He was on the rooftops while I was scouring the streets on my motorcycle checking allies, mainly because people would freak out more from seeing a green tiger roam the streets than a guy on a motorcycle. Everyone else was making sure the big guns at Arkham were still locked up, so it was just us two on the streets.

The motorcycle noise was loud in my ears as I scanned the allies hoping to find some inkling of where these fuckers went off to. Then a scream got my attention and the sensors in my visor picked up on the location. As I rounded the corner into an ally, I saw someone held at gunpoint with a wall to their back. I flipped forward off my motorcycle sending it flying toward the assailant. I still had my fists up, in case he wanted to take the fight up with me, but the motorcycle did most of my job for me. That’s one Arkham scumbag down.

I turned to look at who this guy was hellbent on getting. A girl, around my age I’d guess, with a brown leather jacket on was staring the guy down. I approached her slowly because being attacked can do crazy things to people, but being in shock can also do that too.

“Mam, are you ok?”

As soon as we made eye contact, I blinked and she was gone. What the fuck. Nothing left of her, just gone.

I turned my attention toward the bitch that tried to grab her. I dragged his ass toward the dock and held him over the edge by his neck. “What did you want with her?”

“What anyone wants with a young girl.” Punch. I grabbed his neck as tight as I could and got up in his face.

“You know King Shark lives in these waters. I knock your ass over you’re as good as dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

Yeah, I didn’t know that, but it sounded good.

“Try me.” He was sweating at this point. As much as I want to get this info out of him, I want this shit to be over with.

………….

“I didn’t know who she was.”

“What did she look like.”

“About your height. Gold chain around her neck. I thought I could get that and then make my way out of the city. I don’t know who she was I swear.” I moved his head closer until I could see my reflection in his pupils.

“Well, you got a nice spot waiting for you back at Arkham.” Headbutt.

Ow, those hurt. Those are probably easier for Batman because of his helmet. I kicked him in the balls for good measure. If he had any other plans than just to steal her necklace, then he fucking deserved that.

But she still was a mystery to me. How can someone disappear right before my eyes?

I looked at my surroundings one more time. If being with Bruce and Dick taught me one thing, it was to be observant. The dock to my back, my motorcycle laying tipped over, a door to the inside of the building. I looked up a bit further to the corners of the building and found what I was looking for. A camera. Even though you never know when those don’t work in Gotham, it was worth a shot to see if it got her.

“Robin!” I looked up a bit past where I was looking before and saw Gar on the roof with what looked like three people still intact beside him. How he got them up there I don’t care to find out. “You coming?”

“Yeah. Let’s head back.” I picked up the piece of shit, put him on the back of my motorcycle, and headed back to Arkham with Gar close behind me. I still can’t figure out what I saw, but I knew I saw something.

Back at the Mansion

Bruce asked us to stay the night since it was a long way back to San Francisco with another one of our “Family Trips” as Gar likes to call them.

I, however, didn’t want to sleep. I can sleep all I want on that RV ride back. I want to find what I can about what I saw while I’m still in Gotham. That led me to staying down in the Batcave the whole night.

I’m not as tech-savvy as Dick or Barbara, so it took me a while to get the footage of the dock where I was that night. By the time I got it, I heard the elevator ding altering me that someone was coming down. The doors opened and it was Gar. At least his first reaction won’t be to call me crazy if I tell him what I’m trying to look for. “What are you doing up?”

“What are you doing down here Jason? Dick told us to go to bed hours ago.”

“I bet he’s not asleep.” Gar gave me that look.

“That’s not the point. What are you doing?”

I contemplated telling Gar, but his help on this would be useful. Especially since the footage just proved that I’m not completely crazy.

“Look at this.” Gar came around the desk to look over my shoulder at the screen. “This is the dock where I got the last guy we were looking for tonight. This here is the person he tried to shoot. This is when I asked them if they were okay, and that’s at 05:32:33. She looks at me and at 05:32:37 she is not in the frame. She didn’t move, and the footage doesn’t look like it’s been edited at all. In those 4 SECONDS, she went from being in the frame to out of the frame and she didn’t move. I KNEW I saw something!”

Gar was just looking at the screen to see if he could catch anything else. “Well, that’s physically impossible. At least when it’s Conner you see a blur of what direction he went. It’s just like she DISAPPEARED.”

“I know! Which is why I’m trying to figure out who she is. I don’t think she’s bad because I think she would’ve beaten the shit out of me." We both stared at the screen contemplating what we should do with this information.

“You think we should tell Dick?”

“Do you really want Dickie Bird involved?”

“Dick knows more about finding missing people than we do. He also knows how to deal with things we don’t know much about. He also would know what to do once we found her. Have you thought that far ahead of what you’re going to do once you find her?”

No. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I think my initial journey just wanted to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, but now I’m intrigued as to who she is, what she can do, and, maybe a small part of me, wanted to see if she can join our band of misfits. I sighed not willing to put up with much of a fight.

“Ok. We’ll tell Dick in the morning.” And that’s where our night ended.

The Next Morning

Dick was surprisingly on board with us finding this girl. Don’t know if it was the camera footage about what she could do that piqued his interest or the fact that Dick just wanted to make her a friend before she was a threat. Either way, we extended our stay in Gotham. "And here I was about to call you crazy when you told me what you saw Jason."

I gave him the slight stink eye before he continued. We're a vigilante crime-fighting gang, no one in this group is a sane mind.

“There have been no robberies where the items were there one second and gone the next, so we don’t have her convicted of any crime nor any evidence that she’s a current threat. If you do happen to see her out there, don’t focus on taking her down. Focus on trying to get her to not run away."

"Okay. But does that mean we aren't going on a search for her?"

"Unless you can find her on more cameras around a focalized area to give us a narrower range to search, I don't see us doing much until dark. But I still don't know if we're both crazy or if this is worth the effort."

Ok, Dick, you're clearly not as invested in this case as I am. This is probably the most invested I've been in a case Ever.

"Ok. I'm going to take a nap and then scout the areas before it gets dark. I don't think after being attacked, she'll be out at night anytime soon." I headed up to the bedrooms of the mansion before he could rebuttal me. I grabbed a snack and took a nap in preparation for patrol.

Later that night, on a rooftop in Gotham.

"Both crazy. I saw what I saw." I grumbled as I stood on the rooftop overlooking some of the alleyways with a good view.

"I'm sorry they're calling you crazy." I turned around fists up at the stranger's voice. I don't know how she could sneak up on me.

"Who are you? What are you? How did you find me?" She hesitantly approached me and sat near the edge of the rooftop. As I sat down next to her I could see her more clearly than I could before. She did have a thin gold chain around her neck, but her brown jacket covered most of that up.

"I figured you would come to the same spot looking for me after you knocked the shit out of that guy last night. Name's Y/N."

"Robin." We both just stared at the night, not making eye contact. I figured if she wanted to talk then she would. She also went to all of the trouble to find me again, so I doubt she would do all of that work just to keep silent.

"As far as who I am and what I am, I'm human, but just a tad bit stranger."

"How so," I asked intrigued. She moved her hand, and I saw she was wearing a thumb hole shirt, up to her collar and pulling down her shirt to expose her neck and some of her chest. Her skin is really beautiful. Pay attention Jason. Embedded in her chest was a gold pocket watch. Whit and red scar tissue streaked all around it while a chain wrapped from the pocket watch up around her neck and disappeared down her right arm. She then pulled her right sleeve up to show the rest of the chain still embedded in her skin with the end of it going down the back of her hand and the ring at the end sitting on her ring finger. She started to play with the scarring on her hand telling me she was nervous and possibly self-conscious about it.

"I don't remember how this got in me. I just know what it can do now."

"Which is?"

"Freeze time."

"Excuse me." She giggled at my response. I must look like an idiot, but anything to do with changing time is new for me.

"Stare at me and keep doing it." I looked into her eyes, resisting my urge to look down as her hand went up to the watch in her chest. One second she was in front of me. I blinked, and she was no longer there.

"What ya looking at?" Jesus fuck. She literally appeared on my other side in ZERO seconds.

"What the fuck that was awesome." She shrugged her shoulders at my excitement.

“I mean yeah. It’s good when you need some extra sleep or when you steal food at the back of the store shelves. No one looks there.” She and I just kind of stared at each other waiting to see if the other would speak first. I just went to the edge of the roof and sat down (not too close because that gives me bad memories of almost jumping off). I patted the spot next to me and like a puppy she sat down.

"Do you have anywhere stable to go? And before you answer this don't feel bad about saying no because I didn't have anywhere either until a short while ago." She just looked at me with a curious eye debating if she could trust me. She sighed staring off at the sky before answering.

"No. Anywhere with a voluntarily open door usually gets slammed in my face. I usually just stay up all night, freeze time when doors open in the morning and sleep for a while there." I understood what it felt like to be a rejected street kid. I didn't want to give her the 'I understand where you're coming from' speech because everyone has different experiences even if you've been there. Also, no one believes that people are going to help when it gets lectured to them. Or maybe that's just me. I also doubt if she'll believe me if I say 'I got adopted by stealing the wheels off the batmobile'. But this was worth a shot.

"What if I told you that the same person that took me in would be willing to take you in, even with these powers." She turned her eyes back to me with a questioning look trying to find what to say. I don't think this is how she thought this conversation would go. “You don’t have to say yes now, you can wait to meet them if you want, but I just feel bad about you being here alone when you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

"Ah, what the hell. You beat up those jackasses last night for me, the least I can do is try to hear you out." Jackpot. My face lit up more than she expected.

"Great, I mean… I have to ask him first but can you meet me here at midnight tomorrow and we'll be here?"

"As long as the world's not ending I'll be here Robin." I can't wait until you'll be able to say my actual name. Focus Jason.

She got up and walked toward the fire escape and just like last time, one second she was there. The next, gone. However, I did feel a slight shiver down my spine as if when she froze time she kissed me, but that part I could be dreaming. I got up and made my way to my motorcycle parked in the alleyway. Now comes the hard part. Asking Dick to trust me.

#dc titans #dc titans x reader #dc #dctv #dc tv shows #dctv shows #titans #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc comics #curran walters

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chucksfavouriteprophet · 2 years ago

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The Girl Can Bite Too, You Know - Part 3

Dean Winchester x (Female) Reader

Summary: While trying to keep your business afloat, you get caught in the crossfire of a Winchester hunt and have no choice but to get involved. Some time after your first run-in with the boys, you unexpectedly meet again and they are shocked to see how things have changed.

Warnings: Some slight violence but practically nothing, this is just a little filler before the big stuff gets going.

Word count: 2,609

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

- One Year Later -

The past few weeks had been tedious for Dean, and he was dying to get out of the bunker and find a bar. Problem was, both him and Sam were on the run from the police again, meaning they couldn't exactly show their faces in any old joint.

"C'mon man, one night isn't gonna hurt," Dean begged his brother. "I'm sick of this cheap whisky and no offence, but you're not really the type I would usually choose to chat up."

"Ew Dean, gross," Sam grunted, screwing up his face and shaking his head. "Look, I know you've got itchy feet so I've been doing some digging myself. Garth suggested some roadhouse a few towns over; he's never been but he's heard it's pretty quiet and seems to be a haunt for local hunters. If you're that desperate, why not give that place a try?"

Dean frowned. "Theres a roadhouse a few towns over? You sure, Sammy?" Sam shrugged and held up his hands defensively.

"Hey, I'm only the messenger. You think Garth's having you on?"

It was Dean's turn to shrug now. "No, but I find it hard to imagine there would be a sweet little hunter base just down the road that we haven't discovered yet, don't you?"

Sam turned back to the computer, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know man, like I said, it's meant to be pretty lowkey. Plus, we have kinda been a preoccupied lately so I wouldn't be surprised if slipped past the radar - hey!" He jumped as the laptop lid came slamming down, narrowly missing trapping his fingers.

"Saddle up baby brother, it's time to go get us a proper drink." Dean spun round, flinging his jacket round his shoulders before throwing Sam's in his direction. Sam shook his head with a chuckle. If he was being honest with himself, he too had felt cooped up in the bunker and was interested in getting to know some other local hunters if possible. Moments later, the bunker was plunged into darkness, the only sound being Baby as Dean wheel-spun her out of the garage. Foot on the gas, AC/DC blaring from the radio, the brothers drove with the windows down, enjoying the cool September air. Living in a windowless underground bunker always made them appreciate fresh air when they could get it. Sam related Garth's directions to Dean, and within 20 minutes they were tumbling down an unmade road just out of town.

"Damn, no wonder we never found this place. Someone needs to relay this road." Dean grumbled, taking it slow so not to damage the Impala's suspension. Sam glanced nervously out the window, starting to question if in fact Garth had been having them on. This place was deserted, nothing in sight.

"Dean, look. There." He motioned forward, pointing at an old wooden sign standing at an angle to the side of the road. There was no writing on it, just a symbol - what appeared to be a devils trap in a circle with a diagonal line through it.

"No demons," chuckled Dean. "Very clever signage." He took a sharp right at the sign, tumbling down a windy lane that was hidden from the main road by bushes. It wound round to the left, coming parallel with road they had previously been on, before opening up into a large square area of gravel lit by a low floodlight. The lot was busy with trucks and vans, some of which Sam and Dean recognised as belonging to fellow hunters. They swung in a space towards the back, climbing out and taking in their surroundings.

The parking lot was positioned behind a square wooden building, painted jet black, with heavy blinds across the windows that did well to dim the lights that were on inside. A path ran round to the other side of the building, which showed the reminisce of an old, smaller parking area with access directly off the main road. However, it was clear to see this was no longer used; the potholes were treacherous and branches covered the track to prevent anyone from entering from the original route. Dean paused for a second, glancing up at the front of the dark building.

"Hey, you recognise this place?" He questioned his brother. "I feel like we've been here before."

Sam was focusing intensely on the big oak door positioned in the centre of the building. "I know what you mean." He replied, head tilted slightly. "I know this door from somewhere. But it can't be - that place was way easier to get to, we didn't have to stumble down some civvy-proof track. Plus, the place I'm thinking of wasn't a hunter's bar, it was just an ordinary joint."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe it changed. C'mon, lets go see, it's clearly busy." He pushed past his brother, opening the heavy door inwards and stepping into the warm room, aroma filled with burgers and beer.

"Hey, what was that place called again?" Sam questioned behind him. "Someone's bar, wasn't it? A girl's name, Sally's, or Abby's maybe..."

"Y/N's." Dean breathed, frozen to the spot. A space before him at the bar had just cleared, and he saw you immediately. You hadn't changed; still the same confident body language, hair tied back messily, towel thrown across your shoulder, just like you had been the night you'd met.

Sam chucked. "I don't believe it! Y/N, hey!" He made his way straight towards the bar, Dean following him awkwardly a few steps behind.

You paused when you heard the voice, your back to him as you mixed a drink behind the bar. No, it couldn't be. Surely not. After all this time, all this effort...they were back. You gulped, grasping the glass tighter to stop your fingers trembling so visibly as you turned around.

"Well well well, if it isn't Agents Slovak and Kiedis. Hows the latest album coming along, boys?" You grinned, trying not to make your awe show. A year, it had taken them to walk back into your bar. Or rather 12 months, 4 weeks and 3 days, but who was counting? They hadn't changed much; sure, Sam's hair seemed a little longer, but he was still staggeringly tall and gawky. Dean didn't look any different, although his eyes did seem more serious now, and they'd both earned a few more scars since you'd last seen them. You wondered what sort of horrors they'd seen in the past year, and had to shove away the urge to leap over the bar and embrace them tightly.

Dean had shaken himself clean of his shock by now, and pulled up a stool to sit besides his brother. "Wow Y/N, I like what you've done with the place. That new parking lot grew a bit, huh?"

You smiled at him as you fixed them a drink. "Yeah well, you two opened my eyes to a new kinda clientele, so this ones on the house. Since I started catering for hunters businesses really picked up, but I gotta keep this place a little more subtle now, see." The boys thanked you for their drinks as you moved to top up the empties that had been pushed towards you by your other regulars.

"Yeah, well you're doing a great job at that. We can't believe we didn't know about this place until now." Sam laughed and you shrugged, glancing down at your feet. Dammit Y/N, how long had you waited for this day, and now you were acting like a complete fool?

Dean took a glimpse round the joint, trying to remember back to what it was like that day they'd busted those werewolves. The layout was pretty much the same, with a few more tables thrown in the mix, but the lighting was darker and more pictures were up on the walls. By the door there was a wooden board with initials etched all over it carved with a knife.

"You'll have to add yourselves to that," you nodded in the direction he was glancing in. "It's custom. Every new hunter to drink here has to make their mark." Dean gave you a grin before downing the rest of his whisky. "Hey, you still got those friends of yours out back?" He queried. You rolled your eyes as you gave him a refill. "They even got headstones now. Real talking point in the smoking area, I tell you. Old Robbie over there even made me plaque for them at Christmas." The brothers chuckled, struggling to get their heads around how much you'd changed. Sure, they'd been pleasantly surprised at how well you taken to learning about the supernatural, but they never expected you to make a living out of it as well.

It wasn't long before you had to excuse yourself to tend to other customers, refilling drinks and entertaining their classic manspreading banter. Sometimes you wondered if it was worth hiring some more bartenders to help with the load, but every time you decided it wasn't worth it. You'd have to explain what these people did in order for them not to freak out whenever a regular came in busted from a fight, and there was no way you'd try keep it a secret from anyone. Part of the appeal of Y/N's Bar was the fact that no one had to keep their life a secret. Hunters could come for a drink and catch up with each other, sharing their latest hunts and interests without worrying the wrong ears might overhear. Besides, most of these guys were rowdy men who needed to let their hair down. Not many girls would be able to bat off the misogynistic comments and remarks as easily as you could.

Meanwhile, Dean couldn't keep his eyes off you. He was dying to know more - how had you managed to find out so much about the hunting world? Had something else happened after him and Sam had left? If so, why hadn't he heard from you? Sure, they'd only been living in the bunker a few months now, but how come he hadn't realised how close it was to this place? The elder Winchester couldn't stop wondering as he stood alongside his brother making general chit chat to the other hunters, some of whom he'd met before, others who he'd heard about, and some new rookies who were delighted to finally get to meet the famous Winchester brothers.

The conversation was much the same for you. As the bar filled up, everyone wanted to know how you knew Sam and Dean, and couldn't help but share the rumours they'd heard about them. You smiled through gritted teeth, willing them to shut up and just leave. Truthfully, you wanted everyone to leave, except the brothers. I mean, that was the reason why you ran the place like you did, right?

"Pull yourself together, girl," you mumbled to yourself. Glancing up you caught the eye of the huge portrait of your Dad, still hanging in it's central place above the bar. The one man who had been through it all with you, even if only in spirit. "Don't worry Pop, I'm not gonna let myself go all stupid over two stupid boys. I promise." Taking a deep breath, you turned back around just in time to catch Dean gazing over at you. Catching his eye, you blushed, giving him a nod before carrying on with your job. Dammit, why did you have to be so damn awkward all the time?

Weirdly, Dean felt the same way. Usually chatting up girls was a walk in the park for him, but there was something about you that intimidated him. Maybe it was the casual way you'd managed to turn your bar into a hunters haven right under his nose, or maybe it was just the stunningly sexy and confident way you carried yourself. He threw back another glass of liquid sprit before leaving his brother engrossed in conversation with another local hunter and slid round the bar towards you. "Old man still standing strong, I see," he lent on the table behind you, shrinking back slightly as he made you jump.

"Oh yeah, haha," you mumbled clumsily, trying to recompose yourself. "I don't know what he'd think about me opening up his old place to a bunch of supernatural hunters, but I like to imagine he'd think it was entrepreneurial or something." You dodged round Dean with your head down, not trusting yourself not to glance up into those shockingly green eyes you remembered all too well. If you did, you were afraid you'd never look away. You moved back round behind the safety of the bar as Dean moved with you, pivoting to perch in front of you.

"So, you hunt now too?" He questioned, making you snort with laughter.

"God no. I just monetise the alcoholism that comes with the job." You gave him a quick wink, glancing away swiftly. Do not make eye contact Y/N, you repeated to yourself.

"That's a safe bet," Dean replied. He was about to continue when a raucous behind caught his attention, as well as everyone else's at the bar. Across the room, a burley hunter had pushed another back into the table, sending beer glasses shattering on the ground and a chair to topple over dramatically. He grabbed the other man by the shirt collar, pulling him up onto the table and raising a fist. Dean immediately went to lurch towards the fight, but he was beaten to it. Before the chair had even hit the ground you'd made it across the room in two long strides, twisting the arm of the burley man and pinning him against the wall with a knee to the balls. The man cried out in pain, collapsing in on himself.

"That's your final warning, Frank. I want you out of my bar in 30 seconds, and I don't want you back until you've killed at least three rugarus. You need to get that violence out of your system, and I ain't gonna have you do that by messing up your fellow hunters in my joint." You scooped up the empty glass and threw the truck keys from the table over your shoulder to land as his feet. Dean nodded slowly at you with a grin on his face as you walked back round the bar.

"Wow, that was impressive. You practically flew across the room there. Nice moves, too."

You shook your head as you started washing out the glass. "Dude, I'm a lone girl working in bar that attracts predominately anger-fuelled men. I can handle myself pretty neatly. The girl can bite too, you know."

"Damn straight you can," Dean remembered back to that night with the werewolves. Even now he was still impressed with the way you held your own when faced with a gang of greedy pups.

He spent the rest of the night quietly observing you, while you did the same. After last orders, he and Sam hugged you goodbye, passing on their phone numbers in case you ever needed anything. Dean was pretty sure you wouldn't, but it still made him feel better. The drive back to the bunker was peaceful, the trip out having fulfilled its purpose. Sam had enjoyed chatting away with other hunters and was elated to tell Dean about the latest news he'd caught up on. Dean was just happy at the warm feeling spreading through his chest at having seen you again. For different reasons, they were both sure Y'N's Bar was about to become their regular place.

| Part 4 |

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn x reader #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x y/n #spn fic #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 years ago

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Come Back Home

Pairing: Dick Grayson (DC Titans) x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and miscarriage

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Years after the two of you broke up, Dick Grayson comes back to your life. But he doesn’t know you’ve been hiding a secret all this time.

A/N: @imcarolinashannon and I were talking about angst fics so I decided to write this. I probably might do a second part so if you want to be tagged in that then just send me a message or something

Dick lounged comfortably in Donna’s living room. She promised to meet up with him but unfortunately, she was running late. Dick had no trouble letting himself in and laying down on her couch, waiting for her to get home.

He heard the door open and opted to stay silent, wanting to see her reaction when she realized he had broken in. Technically he hadn’t really broken in but used the key that she hid underneath the doormat.

He silently waited for Donna to come to the living room, feeling childish but at the same time anticipating it.

“Don?”

That wasn’t Donna’s voice.

“Don? You here? The door was left open…”

Dick stiffened. That voice. He’s heard that voice before.

“Don? I—” Your voiced cut off suddenly, whatever was in your hands slipped and fell to the ground. You barely even realized, just hearing a faint thump in the back of your head as the plastic bag hit the floor.

It had been so long.

Dick Grayson hadn’t changed one bit since the last time you had seen him. You on the other hand, looked like age had caught up with you, but in Dick’s eyes you looked as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

That day flashed vividly in his head. You looking beautiful and holding him close to your heart. The ache he felt that day. He couldn’t bear to say anything and break your heart. He couldn’t break your heart again. Saying goodbye to you while you were asleep. Leaving a note on the nightstand.

And then leaving without a second look back.

He never let himself rethink his decision. When he got drunk, he’d shed silent tears when he thought about you, but he’d never let himself call you up. When he got your letters, he’d keep them by his nightstand, but he’d never let himself read it. He feared he’d listen to you and come back.

He didn’t deserve to have you in his life again.

Looking at you again after all these years. He wondered if he made the right decision. He wondered if he should’ve just given into his selfishness. But beyond everything, the void in his heart was made that much more apparent to him when he noticed the way you were looking at him. It was guarded, but at the same time emotional.

It was like you felt something, but you didn’t want to show him.

It was like that for a few seconds, where you were just stuck staring at each other, frozen in time. Neither of you dared to move a muscle. It was calm, too calm. And the two of you were afraid that it would start a storm.

So just as quickly as you came, you backtracked and ran away.

“(Y/N) wait—!” Dick started, moving for you before he could stop himself. He couldn’t let you slip through his fingers. He just needed a few more minutes. A few more minutes to look at you and realize what he gave up. A few more minutes.

But you were already booking it down the hallway when he made it to the door. It was then he found the strength to stop himself. He had to. He couldn’t ask for you to wait. You probably waited a lot already. He couldn’t ask you to wait anymore.

So, he let you slip through his fingers again.

But this time it was him who had to watch you walk away.

And it was only then he realized how much it hurt to be left behind.

***

When the Titans split up you were the only one who remained in San Francisco. Waiting. Just waiting for someone to return. Anyone.

Everything happened so quickly. Garth was taken from you, as well as Jericho, and everything just changed in the span of a night. The family that you had built had broken and no one seemed to have the energy to put back the pieces together.

You remember the same monotonous days, the days where you couldn’t feel anything, when you just woke up to go back to sleep and slept to pretend that none of this ever happened. It was suffocating and exhausting, but you had no way to pull yourself out into the light.

You remember holding onto your fiancé a little tighter that night, your body shaking even though you weren’t cold. You remember sleeping a little heavier that night, as if your body couldn’t bear to wake up to this existence anymore. You remember feeling cold and empty.

You remember waking up to find the space next to you on the bed empty and you immediately knew what had happened. Dick had taken off. You had known it was coming, for a while now, but you couldn’t seem to believe it.

For a while you just stared at the note he left behind with an emotionless gaze. This week had been hell enough, what was another punch? At least things couldn’t get worse.

For a while you just held the note loosely between your fingers, not bothering to move from your bed. You knew you were supposed to be feeling sad, but your heart couldn’t afford it. You couldn’t feel anything anymore.

So, you just stood up from bed, moving unsteadily to the kitchen, not being able to process anything. You just went to the fridge and got yourself a glass of milk before going back to the couch and turning on the television. It was playing but you weren’t watching it.

The sorrow of losing your best friends and your fiancé didn’t hit you until a few days later. You ran out of milk and were looking for something else to drink. Opening the fridge reserved for alcohol, you grabbed whatever touched your fingers first.

An orange soda.

Then your gaze moved to the diamond ring sitting snugly on your finger. The bottle slipped through your fingers, falling onto the ground along with your body. You held yourself as you cried, screamed for someone to come back. For someone to save you through this loneliness.

You cried for what seemed like forever, until you felt dry and then you cried some more. You couldn’t even bring yourself to get off the floor, letting the sticky orange soda soak into your pants and the glass shards of the broken bottle sink into your legs.

Crying felt like the only thing you were capable of. You weren’t able to do anything else, even consoling yourself was far from your mind. All you could do was mourn the death of your friend and the death of your friendships.

Your breath left your body, your stomach churned painfully and your heart clenched in your chest. You couldn’t stand the thought of saying goodbye. You just couldn’t do what the others had and leave your family in the past. You couldn’t bring yourself to.

So, you waited, for someone to return, for anyone to return. You waited and waited, until it had been engrained into your behaviour, until it had been the first thing you thought about in the morning and the last thing you thought about at night. You waited.

You knew the day would come when this void in your heart would be filled.

If you had just waited.

But you eventually gave up the hope of them coming back, you gave it all up. You figured they would never come back home. That they found new homes. That they forgot about you. At this point you wondered if even one of your family members would return.

Nothing could have prepared you for Donna’s phone call one day. She told you that she was back in town and wanted to see you again. Something told you it was too good to be true. Something else told you to give into your pride and bail on her like she did so many years ago.

But against your better judgement, you still agreed to meet with her.

You weren’t expecting to come face to face with the man who left you behind so many years ago. However unhealthy it may have been, you never let yourself think about how you were really feeling when this devastation hit you.

You never tried to identify your feelings.

Rather, you tried to distract yourself and move forward. And it had worked. Until you made eye contact with Dick and had to wonder whether you should break down, get angry and scream or just be happy and relieved to see him again.

It was something you couldn’t handle. You couldn’t even begin to think about it. You couldn’t.

So, you didn’t have to think twice when your legs stumbled back and sprinted out of Donna’s apartment and out of the building.

Only when you were safely back home did you stop running, ignoring the calls from Donna for the rest of the day and instead drowning your sorrows in orange soda, trying to forget this ever happened.

***

Donna eventually managed to track you down to your apartment where you were just laying around your couch. While you were feeling overwhelmed to invite her into your home you were also excited to just sit down and talk with her again.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Donna smiled, pulling you in for a hug, “It’s been so long. Nice place you have here.” She commented, taking off her coat as you shut the door behind her.

“Oh, it’ just your run of the mill, one-bedroom apartment.” You said absentmindedly, “You can look around if you want.”

Donna did exactly that, moving to the passageway and then towards the one bedroom. The door was closed and she wondered if she was allowed to enter. You did say that you could look around so it wouldn’t do any harm.

“Hey, um, the door is locked.” She called out to you and there was an awkward beat of silence before you answered.

“Yeah, I, um, I keep the old suit and weapons there. Don’t want anybody to get in there, you know?”

Oh. Well, that made sense.

“Why don’t you come here and we can have a cup of tea of something.”

“So, what have you been up to?” You asked, getting a cup of tea ready for her. It had been a while since you had anyone in your place so you weren’t even sure where the second tea cup was.

“(Y/N), as much as I would love for this to just be a visit, I’m sorry but there’s something important that I have to tell you.”

Donna told you all about how Dick had reinstated the Titans and was actually in the city right now. You had already known that and made a conscious decision to stay far away from them. You had waited and waited and waited for them to return but when you finally moved on, they decide to show up again?

She told you about how each of the original Titans members were being targeted by an assassin, reasons and identity unknown and that she was here to bring you to the base for your protection.

“Listen, Donna, I hung up that suit a long time ago. If you guys are getting targeted then it’s probably because you started to get back into this life again. I’m fine and I haven’t been involved in it for a long time.” You told her.

“Yeah, (Y/N), I know but we all just think it would be safer—”

“Donna, I told you, I’ve moved on. I’m just an elementary school teacher now. No one is out to get me.”

A shot rang out through the apartment and your windows shattered.

The butt of the bullet shined from its hole in your wooden floors. It was a warning shot. And when you turned you saw the silhouette of a man on the roof of the apartment complex next to your building. He hid well and you couldn’t really make out any features.

The man held the gun up to eye level again and you jumped grabbing Donna’s arm and running towards the closet in the hallway before throwing it open and handing her a gun as shots rang out one after the other.

“I thought you said you kept all your superhero stuff in the other room?” She asked, seeing your costume hung in all it’s glory along with a number of weapons and gadgets.

“Is that really important now?!” You shouted, trying to pocket as many weapons as you could and then ran out into the hallway and past the staircase to the other side of the building

“What? (Y/N) what are we doing? The exit is over there!” She shouted, following you through the halls and she heard you click the safety off your gun before shooting at a lock and kicking the door open.

She ran behind you through an empty apartment and then through the window, scaling down the fire escape before making a break for it.

***

“So, you’re telling me I know have a target painted on my back because the rest of you couldn’t stop playing dress up?” You asked with a furious bite to your voice. The rest of the members held their head down, trying to avoid your gaze.

You were always the mother of the group, looking after people and making sure everyone was okay. But everybody knew when you were angry, there was nothing topping you from ripping them to shreds. The only thing they could do was try their hardest not to agitate you.

Even though none of them were scared of you and they probably could be equally matched with you in a fight. They would probably ever win, because you haven’t been out in the field for a year. But there was just something about your fiery gaze and your sharp voice that made their hearts quicken and them lower their heads in shame.

“(Y/N),” Dawn began with a placating voice, trying to put out your anger, “I know your mad but—”

“Mad?! I’m furious! What the hell were you imbeciles thinking?! Oh, let me guess, absolutely nothing!”

Usually when you were this angry, the team would send Dick your way, knowing that you could never stay angry with him for long. Even though years have passed and your relationship was now broken, it seemed like their strategies were still ingrained into their minds.

“(Y/N), look we just—” Dick began, moving towards you gently so he could hold you but you snapped at him, glaring at him so harshly that he actually took a few steps back and sat back into his seat.

“Oh, shut up, daddy issues! I don’t even wanna start with you!”

Hank immediately stood up then, getting annoyed with you constantly yelling at him. He was a grown man, why should he have to hear you shout at him like he was a little kid?

“Look, (Y/N), none of us—”

“Sit! The fuck! Down!”

No one could appreciate how funny Hank looked, slinking back to his seat like a kicked puppy.

“I seem to recall all of you saying that you wanted to leave this life behind! And now because none of you could actually give it up, my apartment is trashed, all my stuff probably has bullet holes and now I’m stuck here with no clothes, no stuff and all of you!”

“I could lend you some clothes if you like.” Donna said meekly from beside Dick, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Oh, well all of my problems are solved! Thank you so much!”

“I can’t believe this.” You murmured with a quiet voice and the rest recognized that you were finished with yelling. To be quite honest it was just a lot to process. You thought you had left these monsters in the past. It felt like they were trying to pull you back in by your ankles.

“I’m sorry.” Dick spoke up quietly and you sighed, seeing how ashamed he looked. He probably felt horrible, and that didn’t excuse him, but you couldn’t bear to keep yelling when you knew they felt apologetic towards you.

Maybe that’s why you were always being taken advantage of.

“Not like we can do anything about it now.” You said quietly, not making eye contact with either of them and instead just turning around and walking out of the mission room, briefly passing Rachel as you made your way to the kitchen.

You needed a shot.

Rachel stepped into the room once you left with a dazed look, clutching her arm that brushed against you as you walked out. It didn’t go unnoticed by the others.

“Rachel? Is everything okay?”

“I—” You started but then stopped herself, not quite understanding what she was feeling, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

***

You were formally introduced to the rest of the team by the end of the day. Dick watched with a gentle smile as you made witty banter with Jason and told Gar how adorable he was as he blushed.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.”

“Hey, Rachel, I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you.” You smiled and held out your hand for her to shake. As soon as her skin came into contact with yours a gasp l4eft her lips.

Behind her closed eyelids she saw bits and pieces of your memories. She saw you writing letters. Even though you weren’t speaking she could hear what you were writing in her head. It was just bits and pieces of you writing letters but she could feel all the emotions that you felt as you wrote it down.

‘Hey love, it’s (Y/N), I love you, please come home.’

‘Dick it’s been weeks, please come home. There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I was hoping I could do it in person but I can’t. Dick, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with your child so I need you to come home. Please.’

You sent an ultrasound along with the letter and behind it in your handwriting was ‘Please, come home, our baby needs you.’

‘Dick, I want to fly out to Detroit and see you but my Doctor says it isn’t safe for me to fly. I’m about 3 months along and I just heard his heartbeat today. I’m so scared of doing this alone, Dick. I can’t do this alone. Please come home. I need you.’

‘I don’t know if you’re even reading my letters, Dick, but I’m going to keep sending them. If it’s the only way I can talk to you then I’m going to keep sending them. I’m craving a lot of sweets, so if you decide to come home all you need to do is bring back a s’more or something to get me to forgive you, okay? I’ll forgive you, I promise, just please come back home.’

‘I found out the sex of the baby today. It’s gonna be a boy. Dick, we’re gonna have a son and I don’t think I can raise him without you. Please come back home, let’s raise our son together. Please just even call me, or even just sending me a letter back is enough. Something. Anything, Dick, please.’

‘He’s starting to kick more often now, he’s really very active. He loves it when we watch your favourite movie. I don’t know why but I can feel it when we watch it together. He feels happy. Come back home and you can feel his kicks yourself. You don’t know how amazing that feels until it happens. I talk to him a lot; I tell him about you and I know he probably doesn’t understand but It feels like he does. I’m so scared to do this alone, Dick, I don’t think I can. Would you please come home now?’

‘I’ve been getting these things called Braxton Hick’s contractions. They were scary and new but apparently nothing to worry about. That’s what the doctor’s say but I can’t help but get scared, you know? It was absolutely heart-breaking to have to get myself to the hospital. I have friends, but let’s face it, none of them can actually take on the burden of having a child. And I couldn’t ask them to. I still love you, Dick. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. Our son, he feels so familiar, like there was a piece of you left behind. I’m starting to lose hope of you coming back, but I’m still going to keep writing letters because our son needs his father.’

Scenes flashes one after another and her head began spinning with images and she felt dizzy. Eventually her head cleared up and her eyes focused on your staring at her with concerned eyes.

“Rachel, is everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, you blanked out for a second there.”

Yeah, Yeah I’m fine.”

You seemed to buy her explanation and left the room along with the boys when they offered to show you around. Rachel still stood in the middle of the kitchen, seemingly frozen.

Dick walked up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and that seemed to pull her out of her trance but she still seemed pretty shaken up.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“She sent you letters, didn’t she?”

His brows furrowed as he scanned her face. There was something about it that he couldn’t pin-point, that he couldn’t read. It didn’t surprise him that she knew that you had written letters to him but what surprised him was that she asked about it. Usually, she never did.

“Yeah, she did.”

“You never read them, did you?” She asked again, meekly, breaking eye contact with him. She sounded disappointed and hurt but he couldn’t understand why. Maybe if he just explained the situation to her, she would understand.

“No, I never did.” He was going to tell her why. He was going to explain himself. But just as the moment came, Rachel started pulling herself away, moving towards her bedroom like she was lost.

“You should have.”

***

After his conversation with Rachel, Dick wondered what could have been in those letters that made her so shaken up. That made her distance herself from him for the next few days. It was heart-breaking to watch her pull away from him whenever he wanted to talk.

The longer Rachel distanced herself from him, the longer he wondered what exactly was in those letters. Rachel seemed to think that he should have read those letters, but what could’ve been in there that was so terrible?

Obviously, you were well and you looked like you had completely turned your life around, so what could it have been that Rachel thought he should find out about even after all these years?

The curiosity was enough to make him find those letters but not enough to give him the courage to read them. But he still needed to, he absolutely had to, so he opened the first letter you ever sent him.

Around an hour later, all the letters were opened and scattered around his bed. Nothing was going through his head. He didn’t even here you when you called him for dinner from the kitchen.

“Dick? Dinner’s ready. What are you….?” It was then you noticed the opened letters sitting on his bed, “What is this?”

“The letters you sent me.” He told you, his voice cracking and your breath caught. Your first emotion was to run away, to run far away but at the same time it felt like your feet were bolted to the floor. Dick looked up at you and you vaguely noticed the tears in his eyes.

For the first time, it felt like he finally understood how much leaving you had hurt him. He finally realized that he did more harm than good by leaving you. That he was missing out on his life’s greatest dream by leaving you. That while he was missing you, were begging him to come back.

“We have a son…” He started and you flinched, taking a sharp breath but not moving from your place in the doorway with your arms wrapped around your waist to protect yourself from what was going to come.

“I—I can’t believe this.” He spoke again and you bit your lip. Was he going to scream? Shout? Was he going to tell you that you should’ve aborted it? He stood up, albeit on shaky legs but still made his way towards you, keeping a few feet of distance between you.

You were scared of how he would react. You were worried about what he would say.

“I want to meet—”

“You can’t.” You said firmly, clenching your jaw hard as your nails dug into your palms. This was possibly the worst thing he could’ve said.

“Look I know that I shouldn’t have left. I realize that now. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my entire life and I’m sorry. But he’s my son too, please let me—”

“I lost it.” You murmured, not being able to meet his eyes and instead just lowered your eyes, “I lost our son.”

Just like that, Dick Grayson’s world began to crumble before his eyes.

“I woke up one night, in a pool of blood,” You spoke, screwing your eyes shut as you tried to fight the onslaught of tears. Dick immediately pulled you into a hug and you didn’t fight it, instead you fisted his shirt in your hands to keep you in this world and keep you from reliving that day.

“I called the ambulance and even though they got me to the hospital and did first aid, he was already gone when I got there.” You cried into his neck and his arms were tight around your shaking form, but he was shedding silent tears into your hair.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He said, voice cracking with guilt and a sob broke through you.

“That’s what everyone else said. But—I just—Can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I had just been more careful. If I had taken care of myself more. If I had tried harder. We would still have our baby boy.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He said once more, firmly this time, that you almost began to believe him.

“I was his mother. I was supposed to protect him. I failed.”

“I was his father. I was supposed to protect the both of you. I’m sorry I failed you.” He wanted to tell you that he loved you. The words were just on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t say it. He didn’t deserve to love you. And he didn’t deserve to tell you.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).” He said again before he broke down and the two of you fell to the floor, crying in each other’s arms.

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee

DC Taglist: @emmacata

#dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson x reader #titans dick grayson #dick grayson #Titans #titans imagine #nightwing #nightwing x reader #robin x reader #dc titans #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson oneshot #dick grayson angst #dick grayson x you #angst #titans fanfiction #dick grayson fanfic

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writingfromkitchenator · 4 years ago

Text

1,500 Followers Challenge!

The Title/Trope Challenge!

Again, thank you all for all your support! You are all amazing and I truly cannot thank you enough for helping me get this far. It’s certainly a milestone that I never thought I’d see.

Straight to the challenge!

Basic rules apply ~ there are 30 songs and 30 quotes posted below, pick one from your fandom with your character. This will be open for a while as 2 requests per song/quote. The only rule is here is, is that the requests cannot be from the same fandom. I will try and keep the lists as updated as I can to try and avoid cross overs!

The extra - This time around, send me either a title and/or a trope to base to the fic on. They can be as weird and wonderful as you want, or something simple. In your ask, just specify which you are sending me and I’ll do the rest from there!

Recap:

Send me an ask with your request

Include your fandom and character

Choose a song and quote

Give me a title and/or a trope to base the fic on!

In saying that, please remember that this is all just a bit of fun, I’m sure you can have a laugh at some of the quotes below (based off of some of my favourite movies). Please send all requests through asks, it’s easier for me to keep track of, and let me know of any questions! It is, of course, okay to request more than once!

For now, there is no closing date, we will just keep going until all the requests are full! Requests will be closing 1st May.

Further info below the cut.

Songs

Evermore ~ Dan Stevens (Beauty and the Beast) - Lord of the Rings

Protector ~ City Wolf - Supernatural and The Hobbit

I See the Light ~ Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi (Tangled) - Lord of the Rings

I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That) ~ Meat Loaf - Marvel and Supernatural

Bloodshot ~ Sam Tinnesz

Let’s Hear It For The Boy ~ Deniece Williams

All Eyes On You ~ Smash Into Pieces

Feel Invincible ~ Skillet

Natural ~ Imagine Dragons - Lord of the Rings

Wrong Side Of Heaven ~ Five Finger Death Punch

Shatter Me ~ Lindsey Stirling Ft. Lzzy Hale - Supernatural

Feeling Good ~ Nina Simone - The Hobbit and Marvel

Somebody To Love ~ Queen - The Hobbit and The Witcher

Hurricane ~ Thirty Seconds to Mars

You Give Love A Bad Name ~ Bon Jovi - The Hobbit

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ~ Cyndi Lauper - Supernatural

Total Eclipse of the Heart ~ Bonnie Tyler - The Hobbit

Don’t You (Forget About Me) ~ Simple Minds

Hell Ain’t a Bad Place to Be ~ AC/DC

Love Is A War ~ Jeremy Renner

A Reason to Fight ~ Disturbed - The Witcher

True Love ~ P!nk ft. Lily Allen - Marvel and Supernatural

Poison ~ Alice Cooper

Sucker for Pain ~ Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons w/ Logic & Ty Dolla $ign ft X Ambassadors (Suicide Squad)

Hello Hello ~ Elton John ft. Lady Gaga (Gnomeo and Juliet) - Lord of the Rings and Supernatural

I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) ~ The Proclaimers - Marvel and Lord of the Rings

I Will Always Love You ~ Whitney Houston (The Bodyguard) - Supernatural and Lord of the Rings

When You Wish Upon A Star ~ Cliff Edwards (Pinocchio) - The Hobbit

Raise Hell ~ Dorothy

Leave Me Lonely ~ Imelda May

Quotes

I mean, those people aren't exactly our regular customers. (Legion)

I would not have shown you such mercy. (Legion) - Lord of the Rings

When you hesitate, people die. (Doom)

Yeah, I was thinking about it. (Doom)

Will you please get this child off my leg? (Bedknobs and Broomsticks) - Supernatural

Do you poison the dragon or just the liver? (Bedknobs and Broomsticks)

I don't know about you, but I'd like to make today worth remembering. (The Music Man) - Supernatural and Lord of the Rings

A man can't turn tail and run just because a little personal risk is involved. (The Music Man) - Marvel

You idiots! You fools! You imbeciles! (101 Dalmatians) - Supernatural

It was a beautiful spring day. Tedious time of the year for bachelors. (101 Dalmatians) - Marvel

I think I am familiar with the fact that you are going to ignore this problem until it swims up and bites you in the ass. (Jaws) - Lord of the Rings

Smile you son of a bitch! (Jaws)

You never have control, that’s the illusion! (Jurassic Park) - The Hobbit

Boy, do I hate being right all the time. (Jurassic Park) - The Witcher

The suspense is terrible. I hope it'll last. (Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory) - Lord of the Rings

So shines a good deed in a weary world. (Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory)

That was naughty. (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen) - The Hobbit and Supernatural

You broke my heart once. This time you missed. (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen)

You know, he looks heroic and he walks fast, but he’s kind of got a negative attitude. (The Meg) - The Lord of the Rings

Yeah, well, I’m not crazy, I’ve just seen things no one else has. (The Meg) - Marvel

Eight years is a long time. Can I make you a cup of tea? (Godzilla) - Marvel

As far as he's concerned, you're just a pair of breasts that talk. (Godzilla) - The Hobbit

Afraid? You don't know what afraid is. You will not last five minutes without me. (Jumanji) - The Hobbit

Oh, okay, honey. Well, that would be cheating. (Jumanji) - The Hobbit

Carrots? Why is it always carrots? I didn't even eat carrots! (Atlantis: The Lost Empire) - Supernatural

I know what you seek, and you will not find it here. (Atlantis: The Lost Empire) - Supernatural and The Witcher

No. I can't do that, and if you were in my position, you'd do the same. (Alien)

When I give an order I expect to be obeyed. (Alien)

I think it's better to have ideas. You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier. (Dogma) - Lord of the Rings

Well, I say we get drunk, because I'm all out of ideas. (Dogma) - Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit

Characters I will write for:

The Hobbit – Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Bofur, Nori, Gloin (friends only), Frerin, Thranduil, Bard, Legolas, Bilbo, Lindir, Beorn

The Lord of the Rings – Aragorn, Boromir, Eomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Elrond, Haldir

Supernatural – Sam, Dean, Castiel, Crowley, Gabriel, Lucifer, Benny, Balthazar, Chuck, Garth, Mick, Gadreel, Charlie, Bobby

Marvel – Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Loki, Thor, Peter Quill, Logan, Stephen Strange, Carol Danvers, Sam Wilson, Heimdall

Dragon Age – Alistair, Anders, Cullen, Morrigan, Zevran, Leliana, Fenris, Sebastian, Iron Bull, Dorian, Cassandra, Blackwall, Varric

Harry Potter – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Remus, Sirius, Fred, George

Star Trek (Newer Films) – Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty

The Witcher (TV Series) – Geralt, Yennefer, Jaskier

Of course, this list isn’t a final thing, if you feel I could write a character, please just send me a message and I’ll let you know if I’m comfortable with it or not.

Please of course note that all drabble requests are reader insert. I will not do character pairings, but I will change to first/third person if you prefer reading that way. Y/N will be the standard name though and remain that way.

For any Dragon Age requests, if you wish to appear as a certain race, please let me know.

#1500 followers challenge #the lord of the rings #the hobbit #supernatural #marvel #dragon age #harry potter #the witcher #star trek

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davidmann95 · 4 years ago

Note

So... Morrison’s 10 part interview on All-Star Superman, along with all other older Newsarama articles, just seem to have ceased to exist. One does not simply live without having those interviews available to reread... Can I find them anywhere else?

Rejoice! I finally borrowed a computer I could put my flash drive into, and emailed myself my copy of the Morrison interview. Here it is below the cut, copied and pasted direct from the source way back when, available again at last:

Three years, 12 issues, Eisners and countless accolades later, All Star Superman is finally finished. The out-of-continuity look at Superman’s struggle with his inevitable death was widely embraced by fans and pros as one of the best stories to feature the Man of Steel, and was a showcase for the talents of the creative team of Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely and Jamie Grant.

Now, Newsarama is proud to present an exclusive look back with Morrison at the series that took Superman to, pun intended, new heights. We had a lot of questions about the series...and Morrison delivered with an in-depth look into the themes, characters and ideas throughout the 12 issues. In fact, there was so much that we’re running this as an unprecedented 10-part series over the next two weeks – sort of an unofficial All Star Superman companion. It’s everything about All Star Superman you ever wanted to know, but were afraid to ask.

And of course there’s plenty of SPOILERS, so back away if you haven’t read the entire series.

Newsarama: Grant, tell us a little about the origin of the project.

Grant Morrison: Some of it has its roots in the DC One Million project from 1999. So much so, that some readers have come to consider this a prequel to DC One Million, which is fine if it shifts a few more copies! I’ve tried to give my own DC books an overarching continuity intended to make them all read as a more coherent body of work when I’m done.

Luthor’s “enlightenment” – when he peaks on super–senses and sees the world as it appears through Superman’s eyes – was an element I’d included in the Superman Now pitch I prepared along with Mark Millar, Tom Peyer and Mark Waid back in 1999. There were one or two of ideas of mine that I wanted to preserve from Superman Now and Luthor’s heart–stopping moment of understanding was a favorite part of the original ending for that story, so I decided to use it again here.

My specific take on Superman’s physicality was inspired by the “shamanic” meeting my JLA editor Dan Raspler and I had in the wee hours of the morning outside the San Diego comic book convention in whenever it was, ‘98 or ‘99.

I’ve told this story in more detail elsewhere but basically, we were trying to figure out how to “reboot” Superman without splitting up his marriage to Lois, which seemed like a cop–out. It was the beginning of the conversations which ultimately led to Superman Now, with Dan and I restlessly pacing around trying to figure out a new way into the character of Superman and coming up short...

Until we looked up to see a guy dressed as Superman crossing the train tracks. Not just any skinny convention guy in an ill–fitting suit, this guy actually looked like Superman. It was too good a moment to let pass, so I ran over to him, told him what we’d been trying to do and asked if he wouldn’t mind indulging us by answering some questions about Superman, which he did...in the persona and voice of Superman!

We talked for an hour and a half and he walked off into the night with his friend (no, it wasn’t Jimmy Olsen, sadly). I sat up the rest of the night, scribbling page after page of Superman notes as the sun came up over the naval yards.

My entire approach to Superman had come from the way that guy had been sitting; so easy, so confident, as if, invulnerable to all physical harm, he could relax completely and be spontaneous and warm. That pose, sitting hunched on the bollard, with one knee up, the cape just hanging there, talking to us seemed to me to be the opposite of the clenched, muscle-bound look the character sometimes sports and that was the key to Superman for me.

I met the same Superman a couple of times afterwards but he wasn’t Superman, just a nice guy dressed as Superman, whose name I didn’t save but who has entered into my own personal mythology (a picture has from that time has survived showing me and Mark Waid posing alongside this guy and a couple of young readers dressed as Superboy and Supergirl – it’s in the “Gallery” section at my website for anybody who can be bothered looking. This is the guy who lit the fuse that led to All Star Superman).

After the 1999 pitch was rejected, I didn’t expect to be doing any further work on Superman but sometime in 2002, while I was going into my last year on New X–Men, Dan DiDio called and asked if I wanted to come back to DC to work on a Superman book with Jim Lee.

Jim was flexing his artistic muscles again to great effect, and he wanted to do 12 issues on Superman to complement the work he was doing with Jeph Loeb on “Batman: Hush.” At the time, I wasn’t able to make my own commitments dovetail with Jim’s availability, but by then I’d become obsessed with the idea of doing a big Superman story and I’d already started working out the details.

Jim, of course, went on to do his 12 Superman issues as “For Tomorrow” with Brian Azzarello, so I found myself looking for an artist for what was rapidly turning into my own Man of Steel magnum opus, and I already knew the book had to be drawn by my friend and collaborator, Frank Quitely.

We were already talking about We3 and Superman seemed like a good meaty project to get our teeth into when that was done. I completely scaled up my expectations of what might be possible once Frank was on board and decided to make this thing as ambitious as possible.

Usually, I prefer to write poppy, throwaway “live performance” type superhero books, but this time, I felt compelled to make something for the ages – a big definitive statement about superheroes and life and all that, not only drawn by my favorite artist but starring the first and greatest superhero of them all.

The fact that it could be a non–continuity recreation made the idea even more attractive and more achievable. I also felt ready for it, in a way I don’t think I would have been in 1999; I finally felt “grown–up” enough to do Superman justice.

I plotted the whole story in 2002 and drew tiny colored sketches for all 12 covers. The entire book was very tightly constructed before we started – except that I’d left the ending open for the inevitable better and more focused ideas I knew would arise as the project grew into its own shape...and I left an empty space for issue 10. That one was intended from the start to be the single issue of the 12–issue run that would condense and amplify the themes of all the others. #10 was set aside to be the one–off story that would sum up anything anyone needed to know about Superman in 22 pages.

Not quite as concise an origin as Superman’s, but that’s how we got started.

NRAMA: When you were devising the series, what challenges did you have in building up this version of the Superman universe?

GM: I couldn’t say there were any particular challenges. It was fun. Nobody was telling me what I could or couldn’t do with the characters. I didn’t have to worry about upsetting continuity or annoying people who care about stuff like that.

I don’t have a lot of old comics, so my knowledge of Superman was based on memory, some tattered “70s books from the remains of my teenage collection, a bunch of DC “Best Of...” reprint editions and two brilliant little handbooks – “Superman in Action Comics” Volumes 1 and 2 – which reprint every single Action Comics cover from 1938 to 1988.

I read various accounts of Superman’s creation and development as a brand. I read every Superman story and watched every Superman movie I could lay my hands on, from the Golden Age to the present day. From the Socialist scrapper Superman of the Depression years, through the Super–Cop of the 40s, the mythic Hyper–Dad of the 50s and 60s, the questioning, liberal Superman of the early 70s, the bland “superhero” of the late 70s, the confident yuppie of the 80s, the over–compensating Chippendale Superman of the 90s etc. I read takes on Superman by Mark Waid, Mark Millar, Geoff Johns, Denny O’Neil, Jeph Loeb, Alan Moore, Paul Dini and Alex Ross, Joe Casey, Steve Seagle, Garth Ennis, Jim Steranko and many others.

I looked at the Fleischer cartoons, the Chris Reeve movies and the animated series, and read Alvin Schwartz’s (he wrote the first ever Bizarro story among many others) fascinating book – “An Unlikely Prophet” – where he talks about his notion of Superman as a tulpa, (a Tibetan word for a living thought form which has an independent existence beyond its creator) and claims he actually met the Man of Steel in the back of a taxi.

I immersed myself in Superman and I tried to find in all of these very diverse approaches the essential “Superman–ness” that powered the engine. I then extracted, purified and refined that essence and drained it into All Star’s tank, recreating characters as my own dream versions, without the baggage of strict continuity.

In the end, I saw Superman not as a superhero or even a science fiction character, but as a story of Everyman. We’re all Superman in our own adventures. We have our own Fortresses of Solitude we retreat to, with our own special collections of valued stuff, our own super–pets, our own “Bottle Cities” that we feel guilty for neglecting. We have our own peers and rivals and bizarre emotional or moral tangles to deal with.

I felt I’d really grasped the concept when I saw him as Everyman, or rather as the dreamself of Everyman. That “S” is the radiant emblem of divinity we reveal when we rip off our stuffy shirts, our social masks, our neuroses, our constructed selves, and become who we truly are.

Batman is obviously much cooler, but that’s because he’s a very energetic and adolescent fantasy character: a handsome billionaire playboy in black leather with a butler at this beck and call, better cars and gadgetry than James Bond, a horde of fetish femme fatales baying around his heels and no boss. That guy’s Superman day and night.

Superman grew up baling hay on a farm. He goes to work, for a boss, in an office. He pines after a hard–working gal. Only when he tears off his shirt does that heroic, ideal inner self come to life. That’s actually a much more adult fantasy than the one Batman’s peddling but it also makes Superman a little harder to sell. He’s much more of a working class superhero, which is why we ended the whole book with the image of a laboring Superman.

He’s Everyman operating on a sci–fi Paul Bunyan scale. His worries and emotional problems are the same as ours... except that when he falls out with his girlfriend, the world trembles.

Newsarama: Grant, what are some of your favorite moments from the 12 issues?

Grant Morrison: The first shot of Superman flying over the sun. The Cosmic Anvil. Samson and Atlas. The kiss on the moon. The first three pages of the Olsen story which, I think, add up to the best character intro I’ve ever written.

Everything Lex Luthor says in issue #5. Everything Clark does. The whole says/does Luthor/Superman dynamic as played out through Frank Quitely’s absolute mastery and understanding of how space, movement and expression combine to tell a story.

Superboy and his dog on the moon – that perfect teenage moment of infinite possibility, introspection and hope for the future. He’s every young man on the verge of adulthood, Krypto is every dog with his boy (it seemed a shame to us that Krypto’s most memorable moment prior to this was his death scene in “Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow.” Quitely’s scampering, leaping, eager and alive little creature is how I’d prefer to imagine Krypto the Superdog and conjures finer and more subtle emotions).

Bizarro–Home, with all of Earth’s continental and ocean shapes but reversed. The page with the first appearance of Zibarro that Frank has designed so the eye is pulled down in a swirling motion into the drain at the heart of the image, to make us feel that we’re being flushed in a cloacal spiral down into a nihilistic, existential sink. Frank gave me that page as a gift, and it became weirdly emblematic of a strange, dark time in both our lives.

The story with Bar–El and Lilo has a genuine chill off ammonia and antiseptic off it, which makes it my least favorite issue of the series, although I know a lot of people who love it. It’s about dying relatives, obligations, the overlit overheated corridors between terminal wards, the thin metallic odors of chemicals, bad food and fear. Preparation for the Phantom Zone.

Superman hugging the poor, hopeless girl on the roof and telling us all we’re stronger than we think we are.

Joe Shuster drawing us all into the story forever and never–ending.

Nasthalthia Luthor. Frank and Jamie’s final tour of the Fortress, referencing every previous issue on the way, in two pages.

All of issue #10 (there’s a single typo in there where the time on the last page was screwed up – but when we fix that detail for the trade I’ll be able to regard this as the most perfectly composed superhero story I’ve ever written).

I don’t think I’ve ever had a smoother, more seamless collaborative process.

NRAMA: The story is very complete unto itself, but are there any new or classic characters you’d like to explore further? If so, which ones and why?

GM: I’d happily write more Atlas and Samson. I really like Krull, the Dino–Czar’s wayward son, and his Stalinist underground empire of “Subterranosauri.” I could write a Superman Squad comic forever. I’d love to write the “Son of Superman” sequel about Lois and Clark’s super test tube baby.

But...I think All Star is already complete, without sequels. You read that last issue and it works because you know you’re never going to see All Star Superman again. You’ll be able to pick up Superman books, but they won’t be about this guy and they won’t feel the same. He really is going away. Our Superman is actually “dying” in that sense, and that adds the whole series a deeper poignancy.

NRAMA: Aside from the Bizarro League, you never really introduce other DC superheroes into the story. Why did you make this choice?

GM: I wanted the story to be about the mythic Superman at the end of his time. It’s clear from the references that he has or more likely has had a few super–powered allies, but that they’re no longer around or relevant any more.

For the context of this story I wanted the super–friends to be peripheral, like they were in the old comics. The Flash? Green Lantern? They represent Superman’s “old army buddies,” or your dad’s school friends. Guys you’ve sort of heard of, who used to be more important in the old man’s life than they are now.

NRAMA: Some readers were confused as to how the “Twelve Labors” broke down, though others have pointed out that Superman’s actions are more reflective of the Stations of the Cross (I note there’s a “Station Café” in the background of issue #12). Could you break down the Twelve Labors, or, if the cross theory is true, how the storyline reflects the Stations?

GM: The 12 Labors of Superman were never intended as an isomorphic mapping onto the 12 Labors of Hercules, or for that matter, the specific Stations of the Cross, of which there are 14, I believe. I didn’t even want to do one Labor per issue, so it deliberately breaks down quite erratically through the series for reasons I’ll go into (later).

Yes, there are correspondences, but that’s mostly because we tried to create for our Superman the contemporary “superhero” version of an archetypal solar hero journey, which naturally echoes numerous myths, legends and religious parables.

At the same time, we didn’t want to do an update or a direct copy of any myth you’d seen before, so it won’t work if you try to find one specific mythological or religious “plan” to hang the series on; James Joyce’s honorable and heroic refutation of the rule aside, there’s nothing more dead and dull than an attempt to retell the Odyssey or the Norse sagas scene by scene, but in a modern and/or superhero setting.

For future historians and mythologizers, however, the 12 Labors of Superman may be enumerated as follows:

1. Superman saves the first manned mission to the sun. 2. Superman brews the Super–Elixir. 3. Superman answers the Unanswerable Question. 4. Superman chains the Chronovore.  5. Superman saves Earth from Bizarro–Home. 6. Superman returns from the Underverse. 7. Superman creates Life. 8. Superman liberates Kandor/cures cancer. 9. Superman defeats Solaris. 10. Superman conquers Death. 11. Superman builds an artificial Heart for the Sun. 12.Superman leaves the recipe/formula to make Superman 2.

And one final feat, which typically no–one really notices, is that Lex Luthor delivers his own version of the unified field haiku – explaining the underlying principles of the universe in fourteen syllables – which the P.R.O.J.E.C.T. G–Type philosopher from issue 4 had dedicated his entire life to composing!

You may notice also that the Labors take place over a year – with the solar hero’s descent into the darkness and cold of the Underverse occurring at midwinter/Christmas time (that’s also the only point in the story where we ever see Metropolis at night).

It can also be seen as the sun’s journey over the course of a day – we open in blazing sunshine but halfway through the book, at the end of issue #5, in fact, the solar hero dips below the horizon and begins the night–journey through the hours of darkness and death, before his triumphant resurrection at dawn. That’s why issue 5 ends with the boat to the Underworld and 6 begins with the moon. Clark Kent is crossing the threshold into the subconscious world of memory, shadows, death and deep emotions.

Although they can often have bizarre resonances, specific elements, like the Station Café, are usually put there by Frank Quitely, and are not necessarily secret Dan Brown–style keys to unlocking the mysteries. I think there might be a Station Café opposite the studio where Frank Quitely works and the “SAPIEN” sign on another storefront is a reference to Frank’s studio mate, Dave Sapien. At least he’s not filling the background with dirty words like he used to, given any opportunity

NRAMA: For that matter, do the Twelve Labors matter at all? They seem so purposely ill–defined. They seem more like misdirection or a MacGuffin than anything that needs to be clearly delineated.

GM: They matter, of course, but the 12 Labors idea is there to show that, as with all myth, the systematic ordering of current events into stories, tales, or legends occurs after the fact.

I’m trying to suggest that only in the future will these particular 12 feats, out of all the others ever, be mythologized as 12 Labors. I suppose I was trying to say something about how people impose meaning upon events in retrospect, and that’s how myth is born. It’s hindsight that provides narrative, structure, meaning and significance to the simple unfolding of events. It’s the backward glance that adds all the capital letters to the list above.

Even Superman isn”t sure how many Labors he’s performed when we see him mulling it over in issue 10.  When you watched it happening, it seemed to be Superman just doing his thing. In the future it’s become THE 12 LABORS OF SUPERMAN!

NRAMA: And on a completely ridiculous note: All–Star Superman is perhaps the most difficult–to–abbreviate comic title since Preacher: Tall in the Saddle. Did you realize this going in?

GM: Going into what? Going into ASS itself? In the sense of how did I feel as I slowly entered ASS for the first time?

It never crossed my mind...

Newsarama: I’d like to know a little more about Leo Quintum and his role in the story. He seems like a bit of an outgrowth of the likes of Project Cadmus and Emil Hamilton, but in a more fantastical, Willy Wonka sense.

Grant Morrison: Yeah, he was exactly as you say, my attempt to create an updated take on the character of “Superman’s scientist friend” – in the vein of Emil Hamilton from the animated show and the ‘90s stories. Science so often goes wrong in Superman stories, and I thought it was important to show the potential for science to go right or to be elevated by contact with Superman’s shining positive spirit.

I was thinking of Quintum as a kind of “Man Who Fell To Earth” character with a mysterious unearthly background. For a while I toyed with the notion that he was some kind of avatar of Lightray of the New Gods, but as All Star developed, that didn’t fit the tone, and he was allowed to simply be himself.

Eventually it just came down to simplicity. Leo Quintum represents the “good” scientific spirit – the rational, enlightened, progressive, utopian kind of scientist I figured Superman might inspire to greatness. It was interesting to me how so many people expected Quintum to turn out bad at the end. It shows how conditioned we are in our miserable, self–loathing, suspicious society to expect the worst of everyone, rather than hope for the best. Or maybe it’s just what we expect from stories.

Having said that, there is indeed a necessary whiff of Lucifer about Quintum. His name, Leo Quintum, conjures images of solar force, lions and lightbringers and he has elements of the classic Trickster figure about him. He even refers to himself as “The Devil Himself” in issue #10.

What he’s doing at the end of the story should, for all its gee–whiz futurity, feel slightly ambiguous, slightly fake, slightly “Hollywood.” Yes, he’s fulfilling Superman’s wishes by cloning an heir to Superman and Lois and inaugurating a Superman dynasty that will last until the end of time – but he’s also commodifying Superman, figuring out how it’s done, turning him into a brand, a franchise, a bigger–and–better “revamp,” the ultimate coming attraction, fresher than fresh, newer than new but familiar too. Quintum has figured out the “formula” for Superman and improved upon it.

And then you can go back to the start of All Star Superman issue #1 and read the “formula” for yourself, condensed into eight words on the first page and then expanded upon throughout the story! The solar journey is an endless circle naturally. A perfect puzzle that is its own solution.

In one way, Quintum could be seen to represent the creative team, simultaneously re–empowering a pure myth with the honest fire of Art...while at the same time shooting a jolt of juice through a concept that sells more “S” logo underpants and towels than it does comic books. All tastes catered!

I have to say that the Willy Wonka thing never crossed my mind until I saw people online make the comparison, which seems quite obvious now. Quintum dresses how I would dress if I was the world’s coolest super–scientist. What’s up with that?

NRAMA: Was Zibarro inspired by the Bizarro World story where the Bizarro–Neanderthal becomes this unappreciated Casanova–type?

GM: Don’t know that one, but it sounds like a scenario I could definitely endorse!

Zibarro started out as a daft name sicked–up by my subconscious mind, which flowered within moments into the must–write idea of an Imperfect Bizarro. What would an imperfect version of an already imperfect being be like?

Zibarro.

NRAMA: I’d like to know more about Zibarro – what’s the significance of his chronicling Bizarro World through poetry?

GM: It’s up to you. I see Zibarro partly as the sensitive teenager inside us all. He’s moody, horribly self–aware and uncomfortable, yet filled with thoughts of omnipotence and agency. He’s the absolute center of his tiny, disorganized universe. He’s playing the role of sensitive, empathic poet but at the same time, he’s completely self–absorbed.

When he says to Superman “Can you even imagine what it’s like to be so different. So unique. So unlike everyone else?” he doesn’t even wait for Superman’s reply. He doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own, ultimately.

NRAMA: The character is very close to Superman, so what does it say that a nonpowered version on a savage world would focus his energy through that medium? Also, does Zibarro’s existence show how Superman is able to elevate even the backwards Bizarros through his very nature?

GM: All of the above. And maybe he writes his totally subjective poetry as a reflection of Clark Kent’s objective reporter role. The suppressed, lyrical, wounded side of Superman perhaps? The Super–Morrissey? Bizarro With The Thorn In His Side?

But he’s also Bizarro–Home’s “mistake” (or so it seems to him, even though he’s as natural an expression of the place as any of the other Bizarro creatures who grow like mold across the surface of their living planet). He feels excluded, a despised outsider, and yet that position is what defines his cherished self–image. He expresses himself through poetry because to him the regular Bizarro language is barbaric, barely articulate and guttural. And they all think he’s talking crap anyway.

It seemed to make sense that an interesting opposite of Bizarro speech might be flowery “woe is me” school Poetry Society odes to the sunset in a misunderstood heart. He’s still a Bizarro though, which makes him ineffectual. His tragedy is that he knows he’s fated to be useless and pointless but craves so much more.

NRAMA: Zibarro also represents a recurrent theme in the story, of Superman constantly facing alternate versions of himself – Bar–El, Samson and Atlas, the Superman Squad, even Luthor by the end. Notably, Hercules is absent, though Superman’s doing his Twelve Labors. With the mythological adventurers in particular, was this designed to equate Superman with their legend, to show how his character is greater than theirs, or both?

GM: In a way, I suppose. He did arm–wrestle them both, proving once and for all Superman’s stronger than anybody! And remember, these characters, along with Hercules, used to appear regularly in Superman books as his rivals. I thought they made better rivals than, say, Majestic or Ultraman because people who don’t read comics have heard of Hercules, Samson and Atlas and understand what they represent.

For that particular story, I wanted to see Superman doing tough guy shit again, like he did in the early days and then again in the 70s, when he was written as a supremely cocky macho bastard for a while. I thought a little bit of that would be an antidote to the slightly soppy, Super–Christ portrayal that was starting to gain ground.

Hence Samson’s broken arm, twisted in two directions beyond all repair. And Atlas in the hospital. And then Superman’s got his hot girlfriend dressed like a girl from Krypton and they’re making out on the moon (the original panel description was of something more like the famous shot of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr kissing in the surf from “From Here To Eternity.” Frank’s final choice of composition is much more classically pulp–romantic and iconic than my down and dirty rumble in the moondirt would have been, I’m glad to say).

Newsarama: Tell us about some of the thinking behind the new antagonists you created for this series (at least the ones you want to talk about...): First up: Krull and the Subterranosaurs...

Grant Morrison: We wanted to create some throwaway new characters which would be designed to look as if they were convincing long–term elements of the Superman legend.

We were trying to create a few foes who had a classic feel and a solid backstory that could be explored again or in depth. Even if we never went back to these characters, we wanted them to seem rich enough to carry their own stories.

With Krull, we figured a superhuman character like Superman can always use a powerful “sub–human” opponent: a beast, a monster, a savage with the power to destroy civilization. For years I’ve had the idea that the familiar “gray aliens” might “actually” be evolved biped dinosaur descendants, the offspring of smart–thinking lizards which made their way to the warm regions at the Earth’s core.

I imagined these brutes developing their own technology, their own civilization, and then finally coming to the surface to declare bloody war on the mammalian usurpers! It seemed like we could develop this idea into the Krull backstory and suggest a whole epic conflict in a few panels.

Dom Regan, the Glasgow artist and DC colorist, saw the original green skin Jamie Grant had done for Krull, and suggested we make him red instead. Jamie reset his color filters and that was the moment Krull suddenly looked like a real Superman foe.

The red skin marked him out as unique, different and dangerous, even among his own species. It had echoes of Jack Kirby’s Devil Dinosaur that played right into the heart of the concept. A good design became a great design and the whole story of who Krull was – his twisted relationship with his father the Dino–Czar, his monstrous ambitions – came together in that first picture.

The society was fleshed out in the script even though we see only one panel of it – a gloomy, heavy, “Soviet” underworld of walled iron cities, cold blood and deadly intrigue. War–Barges that could sail on the oceans of heated steam at the center of the Earth. A Stalinist authoritarian lizard world where missing person cases were being taken to work and die as slaves in hellish underworld conditions.

NRAMA: Mechano–Man?

GM: An attempt to pre–imagine a classic, archetypal Superman foe, which started with another simple premise – how about a giant robot villain? But not just any giant robot – this is a rampaging machine with a raging little man inside.

Giving him a bitter, angry, scrawny loser as a pilot turned Mechano–Man into a much more extreme and pathological expression of the Man of Steel/Mild–Mannered Reporter dynamic, and added a few interesting layers onto an 8–panel appearance.

NRAMA: The Chronovore – a very disturbing creation, that one.

GM: The Chronovore was mentioned in passing in DC 1,000,000 and would have been the monster in my aborted Hypercrisis series idea. It took a long time to get the right design for the beast because it’s meant to be a 5–D being that we only ever see in 4–D sections. It had to work as a convincing representation of something much bigger that we’re seeing only where it interpenetrates our 4–D space-time continuum.

Imagine you’re walking along with a song in your teenage heart, then suddenly the Chronovore appears, takes bite out of your life, and you arrive at your girlfriend’s house aged 76, clutching a cell phone and a wilted bouquet.

NRAMA: One more obscure run that I was happy to see referenced in this was the use of Nasty from the old Mike Sekowsky Supergirl stories. What made you want to use this character?

GM: I remembered her from the old comics, and felt her fashion–y look could be updated very easily into the kind of fetish club thing I’ve always been partial to.

She seemed a cool and sexy addition to the Luthor plot. The set–up, where Lex has a fairly normal sister who hates how her wayward brother is such a bad influence on her brilliant daughter, is explosive with character potential.

They need to bring Nasty back to mainstream continuity. Geoff! They all want it and you know you never let them down!

NRAMA: Speaking of Mike Sekowsky, I’m curious about his influence on your work. I have an odd fascination with all the ideas and stories he was tossing around in the late 1960s and early 1970s – Jason’s Quest, Manhunter 2070, the I–Ching tales – and many of the characters he worked on, from the B”Wana Beast to the Inferior Five to Yankee Doodle (in Doom Patrol), have shown up in your work. The Bizarro Zoo in issue #10 is even slightly reminiscent of the Beast’s merged animals.

GM: Those were all comics that were around when I was a normal kid, prior to the obsessive collecting fan phase of my isolated teenage years. They clearly inspired me in some way, as you say, but certainly not consciously. I’d never have considered myself a particular fan of Mike Sekowsky’s work, but as you say, I’ve incorporated a lot of his ideas into the DC Universe work I’ve done. Hmm. Interesting.

While I’m at it, I should also say something about Samson and Atlas, halfway between old characters and new.

Samson, Atlas and Hercules were classical mainstays of old Superman covers, tangling with Superman in all those Silver Age stories that happened before he learned from his friends at Marvel that it was possible to fight other superheroes for fun and profit, so I decided to completely “re–vamp” the characters in the manner of superhero franchises. Marvel has the definitive Hercules for me, so I left him out of the mix and concentrated on Atlas and Samson.

Atlas was re–imagined as a mighty but restless and reckless young prince of the New Mythos – a society of mega–beings playing out their archetypal dramas between New Elysium and Hadia, with ordinary people caught in the middle – and Superman.

Essentially good–hearted, Atlas would have been the newbie in a “team” with Skyfather Xaoz!, Heroina, Marzak and the others. He has a bullish, adolescent approach to life. He drinks and plunges himself into ill–advised adventures to ease his naturally gloomy “weighed down by the world” temperament.

You can see it all now. The backstory suggested an unseen, Empyrean New Gods–type series from a parallel universe. What if, when Jack Kirby came to DC from Marvel in 1971, he’d followed up his sci–fi Viking Gods saga at Marvel, with a dimension–spanning epic rooted in Greek mythology? New Gods meets Eternals drawn by Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson? That was Atlas.

Samson, I decided would be a callback to the British newspaper strip “Garth.” Although you may already be imagining a daily strip about the exploits of time–tossed The Boys writer, Garth Ennis, it was actually about a blonde Adonis type who bounced around the ages having mildly horny, racy adventures.

(Go look him up then return the wiser before reading on, so I don’t have to explain anymore about this bastard – he’s often described as “the British Superman,” but oh...my arse! I hated meathead, personality–singularity Garth...but we all grew up with his meandering, inexplicable yet incredibly–drawn adventures and some of it was quite good when you were a little lad because he was always shagging ON PANEL with the likes of a bare–breasted cave girl or gauze–draped Helen of Troy.

(Unlike Superman, you see, the top British strongman liked to get naked. Lots naked. Naked in every time period he could get naked in, which was all of them thanks to the miracle of his bullshit powers.

(Imagine Doctor Who buff, dumb and naked all the time – Russell, I’ve had an idea!!!! – and that’s Garth in a nutshell.

(Sorry, I know I’m going on and the average attention span of anyone reading stuff on the Internet amounts to no more than a few paragraphs, but basically, Garth was always getting naked. In public, in family newspapers. Bollock naked. Let’s face it, patriotic Americans, have you ever seen Superman’s arse?

Newsarama Note: Well, there was Baby Kal-El in the 1978 film...

(Brits, hands up who still remember the man, and have you ever not seen Garth’s arse? Do you not, in fact, have a very clear image of it in your head, as drawn by Martin Asbury perhaps? In mine, Garth’s pulling aside a flimsy curtain to gaze at the pyramids with Cleopatra buck naked in foreground ogling his rock hard glutes...).

Anyway, Samson, I decided, was the Hebrew version of Garth and he would have his own mad comic that was like an American version of Garth. I saw the Bible hero plucked from the desert sands by time–travelling buffoons in search of a savior. Introduced to all the worst aspects of future culture and, using his stolen, erratic Chrono–Mobile, Samson became a time–(and space) traveling Soldier of Fortune, writing wrongs, humping princesses, accumulating and losing treasure etc. Like a science fiction Conan. Meets Garth.

Fortunately, you’ll never see any of these men ever again.

Newsarama: How have your perceptions of Superman and his supporting characters evolved since the Superman 2000 pitch you did with Mark Waid, Mark Millar and Tom Peyer? The Superman notions seem almost identical, but Luthor is very different here than in that pitch, and so is Clark Kent. Did you use some aspects of your original pitch, or have you just changed his mind on how to portray these characters since?

Grant Morrison: A little of both. I wanted to approach All Star Superman as something new, but there were a couple of specific aspects from the Superman 2000 pitch (as I mentioned earlier, it was actually called Superman Now, at least in my notebooks, which is where the bulk of the material came from) that I felt were definitely worth keeping and exploring.

I can’t remember much about Luthor from Superman Now, except for the ending. By the time I got to All Star Superman, I’d developed a few new insights into Luthor’s character that seemed to flesh him out more. Luthor’s really human and charismatic and hateful all the same time. He’s the brilliant, deluded egotist in all of us. The key for me was the idea that he draws his eyebrows on. The weird vanity of that told me everything I needed to know about Luthor.

I thought the real key to him was the fact that, brilliant as he is, Luthor is nowhere near as brilliant as he wants to be or thinks he is. For Luthor, no praise, no success, no achievement is ever enough, because there’s a big hungry hole in his soul. His need for acknowledgement and validation is superhuman in scale. Superman needs no thanks; he does what he does because he’s made that way. Luthor constantly rails against his own sense of failure and inadequacy...and Superman’s to blame, of course.

I’ve recently been re–thinking Luthor again for a different project, and there’s always a new aspect of the character to unearth and develop.

NRAMA: This story makes Superman and Lois’ relationship seem much more romantic and epic than usual, but this one also makes Superman more of the pursuer. Lois seems like more of an equal, but also more wary of his affections, particularly in the black–and–white sequence in issue #2.

She becomes this great beacon of support for him over the course of the series, but there is a sense that she’s a bit jaded from years of trickery and uncomfortable with letting him in now that he’s being honest. How, overall, do you see the relationship between Superman and Lois?

GM: The black-and-white panels shows Lois paranoid and under the influence of an alien chemical, but yes, she’s articulating many of her very real concerns in that scene.

I wanted her to finally respond to all those years of being tricked and duped and led to believe Superman and Clark Kent were two different people. I wanted her to get her revenge by finally refusing to accept the truth.

It also exposed that brilliant central paradox in the Superman/Lois relationship. The perfect man who never tells a lie has to lie to the woman he loves to keep her safe. And he lives with that every day. It’s that little human kink that really drives their relationship.

NRAMA: Jimmy Olsen is extremely cool in this series – it’s the old “Mr. Action” idea taken to a new level. It’s often easy to write Jimmy as a victim or sycophant, but in this series, he comes off as someone worthy of being “Superman’s Pal” – he implicitly trusts Superman, and will take any risk to get his story. Do you see this version of Jimmy as sort of a natural evolution of the version often seen in the comics?

GM: It was a total rethink based on the aspects of Olsen I liked, and playing down the whole wet–behind–the–ears “cub reporter” thing. I borrowed a little from the “Mr. Action” idea of a more daredevil, pro–active Jimmy, added a little bit of Nathan Barley, some Abercrombie & Fitch style, a bit of Tintin, and a cool Quitely haircut.

Jimmy was renowned for his “disguises” and bizarre transformations (my favorite is the transvestite Olsen epic “Miss Jimmy Olsen” from Jimmy Olsen #95, which gets a nod on the first page of our Jimmy story we did), so I wanted to take that aspect of his appeal and make it part of his job.

I don’t like victim Jimmy or dumb Jimmy, because those takes on the character don’t make any sense in their context. It seemed more interesting see what a young man would be like who could convincingly be Superman’s “pal.” Someone whose company a Superman might actually enjoy. That meant making Jimmy a much bigger character: swaggering but ingenuous. Innocent yet worldly. Enthusiastic but not stupid.

My favorite Jimmy moment is in issue #7 when he comes up with the way to defeat the Bizarro invasion by using the seas of the Bizarro planet itself as giant mirrors to reflect toxic – to Bizarros – sunlight onto the night side of the Earth. He knows Superman can actually take crazy lateral thinking like this and put it into practice.

NRAMA: Perry White has a few small–but–key scenes, particularly his address to his staff in issue #1 and standing up to Luthor in issue #12. I’d like to hear more about your thoughts on this character.

GM: As with the others, my feelings are there on the page. Perry is Clark’s boss and need only be that and not much more to play his role perfectly well within the stories. He’s a good reminder that Superman has a job and a boss, unlike that good–for–nothing work-shy bastard Batman. Perry’s another of the series’ older male role models of integrity and steadfastness, like Pa Kent.

NRAMA: There’s a sense in the Daily Planet scenes and with Lois’s spotlight issues that everyone knows Clark is Superman, but they play along to humor him. The Clark disguise comes off as very obvious in this story. Do you feel that the Planet staff knows the truth, or are just in a very deep case of denial, like Lex?

GM: If I had to say for sure, I think Jimmy Olsen worked it out a long time ago, and simply presumes that if Superman has a good reason for what he’s doing, that’s good enough for Jimmy.

Lois has guessed, but refuses to acknowledge it because it exposes her darkest flaw – she could never love Clark Kent the way she loves Superman.

NRAMA: Also, the Planet staff seems awfully nonchalant at Luthor’s threats. Are they simply used to being attacked by now?

GM: Yes. They’re a tough group. They also know that Superman makes a point of looking out for them, so they naturally try to keep Luthor talking. They know he loves to talk about himself and about Superman. In that scene, he’s almost forgotten he even has powers, he’s so busy arguing and making points. He keeps doing ordinary things instead of extraordinary things.

NRAMA: The running gag of Clark subtly using his powers to protect unknowing people is well done, but I have to admit I was confused by the sequence near the end of issue #1. Was that an el–train, and if so, why was it so close to the ground?

GM: It’s a MagLev hover–train. Look again, and you’ll see it’s not supported by anything. Hover–trains help ease congestion in busy city streets! Metropolis is the City of Tomorrow, after all.

NRAMA: And there’s the death of Pa Kent. Why do you feel it’s particularly important to have Pa and not both of the Kents pass away?

GM: I imagined they had both passed away fairly early in Superman’s career, but Ma went a few years after Pa. Also, because the book was about men or man, it seemed important to stress the father/son relationships. That circle of life, the king is dead, long live the king thing that Superman is ultimately too big and too timeless to succumb to.

NRAMA: There is a real touch of Elliott S! Maggin’s novels in your depiction of Luthor – someone who is just so obsessive–compulsive about showing up Superman that he accomplishes nothing in his own life. He comes across as a showman, from his rehearsed speech in issue #1 to his garish costume in the last two issues, and it becomes painfully apparent that he wants to usurp Superman because he just can’t be happy with himself. What defeats him is actually a beautiful gift, getting to see the world as Superman does, and finally understanding his enemy.

That’s all a lead–in to: What previous stories that defined Luthor for you, and how did you define his character? What appeals to you about writing him?

GM: The Marks Waid and Millar were big fans of the Maggin books, and may have persuaded me to read at least the first one but I’m ashamed to say can’t remember anything about it, other than the vague recollection of a very humane, humanist take on Superman that seemed in general accord with the pacifist, hedonistic, between–the–wars spirit of the ‘90s when I read it. It was the ‘90s; I had other things on my mind and in my mind.

I like Maggin’s “Must There Be A Superman?” from Superman #247, which ultimately poses questions traditional superhero comic books are not equipped to answer and is one of the first paving stones in the Yellow Brick Road that leads to Watchmen and beyond, to The Authority, The Ultimates etc. Everyone still awake, still reading this, should make themselves familiar with “Must There Be A Superman?” – it’s a milestone in the development of the superhero concept.

However, the story that most defines Luthor for me turns out to be, as usual, a Len Wein piece with Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson– Superman #248. This blew me away when I was a kid. Lex Luthor cares about humanity? He’s sorry we all got blown up? The villain loves us too? It’s only Superman he really hates? Genius. Big, cool adult stuff.

The divine Len makes Lex almost too human, but it was amazing to see this kind of depth in a character I’d taken for granted as a music hall villain.

I also love the brutish Satanic, Crowley–esque, Golden Age Luthor in the brilliant “Powerstone” Action Comics #47 (the opening of All Star #11 is a shameless lift from “Powerstone”, as I soon realised when I went back to look. Blame my...er...photographic memory...cough).

And I like the Silver Age Luthor who only hates Superman because he thinks it’s Superboy’s fault he went bald. That was the most genuinely human motivation for Luthor’s career of villainy of all; it was Superman’s fault he went bald! I can get behind that.

In the Silver Age, baldness, like obesity, old age and poverty, was seen quite rightly as a crippling disease and a challenge which Superman and his supporting cast would be compelled to overcome at every opportunity! Suburban “50s America versus Communist degeneracy? You tell me.

I like elements of the Marv Wolfman/John Byrne ultra–cruel and rapacious businessman, although he somewhat lacks the human dimension (ultimately there’s something brilliant about Luthor being a failed inventor, a product of Smallville/Dullsville – the genius who went unnoticed in his lifetime, and resorted to death robots in chilly basements and cellars. Luthor as geek versus world). I thought Alan Moore’s ruthlessly self–assured “consultant” Luthor in Swamp Thing was an inspired take on the character as was Mark Waid’s rage–driven prodigy from Birthright.

I tried to fold them all into one portrayal. I see him as a very human character – Superman is us at our best, Luthor is us when we’re being mean, vindictive, petty, deluded and angry. Among other things. It’s like a bipolar manic/depressive personality – with optimistic, loving Superman smiling at one end of the scale and paranoid, petty Luthor cringing on the other.

I think any writer of Superman has to love these two enemies equally. We have to recognize them both as potentials within ourselves. I think it’s important to find yourself agreeing with Luthor a bit about Superman’s “smug superiority” – we all of us, except for Superman, know what it’s like to have mean–spirited thoughts like that about someone else’s happiness. It’s essential to find yourself rooting for Lex, at least a little bit, when he goes up against a man–god armed only with his bloody–minded arrogance and cleverness.

Even if you just wish you could just give him a hug and help him channel his energies in the right direction, Luthor speaks for something in all of us, I like to think.

However he’s played, Luthor is the male power fantasy gone wrong and turned sour. You’ve got everything you want but it’s not enough because someone has more, someone is better, someone is cleverer or more handsome.

Newsarama: Grant, a recurring theme throughout the book is the effect of small kindness – how even the likes of Steve Lombard are capable of decency. And Superman gets the key to saving himself by doing something that any human being could do, offering sympathy to a person about to end it all.

Grant Morrison: Completely...the person you help today could be the person who saves your life tomorrow.

NRAMA: The character actions that make the biggest difference, from Zibarro’s sacrifice to Pa’s influence on Superman, are really things that any normal, non-powered person could do if they embrace the best part of their humanity. The last page of issue #12 teases the idea that Superman’s powers could be given to all mankind, but it seems as though the greatest gift he has given them is his humanity. How do you view Superman’s fate in the context of where humanity could go as a species?

GM: I see Superman in this series as an Enlightenment figure, a Renaissance idea of the ideal man, perfect in mind, body and intention.

A key text in all of this is Pico’s ‘Oration On The Dignity of Man’ (15c), generally regarded as the ‘manifesto’ of Renaissance thought, in which Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola laid out the fundamentals of what we tend to refer to as ’Humanist’ thinking.

(The ‘Oratorio’ also turns up in my British superhero series Zenith from 1987, which may indicate how long I’ve been working towards a Pico/Superman team-up!)

At its most basic, the ‘Oratorio’ is telling us that human beings have the unique ability, even the responsibility, to live up to their ‘ideals’. It would be unusual for a dog to aspire to be a horse, a bird to bark like a dog, or a horse to want to wear a diving suit and explore the Barrier Reef, but people have a particular gift for and inclination towards imitation, mimicry and self-transformation. We fly by watching birds and then making metal carriers that can outdo birds, we travel underwater by imitating fish, we constantly look to role models and behavioral templates for guidance, even when those role models are fictional TV or, comic, novel or movie heroes, just like the soft, quick, shapeshifty little things we are. We can alter the clothes we wear, the temperature around us, and change even our own bodies, in order to colonize or occupy previously hostile environments. We are, in short, a distinctively malleable and adaptable bunch.

So, Pico is saying, if we live by imitation, does it not make sense that we might choose to imitate the angels, the gods, the very highest form of being that we can imagine? Instead of indulging the most brutish, vicious, greedy and ignorant aspects of the human experience, we can, with a little applied effort, elevate the better part of our natures and work to express those elements through our behavior. To do so would probably make us all feel a whole lot better too. Doing good deeds and making other people happy makes you feel totally brilliant, let’s face it.

So we can choose to the astronaut or the gangster. The superhero or the super villain. The angel or the devil. It’s entirely up to us, particularly in the privileged West, how we choose to imagine ourselves and conduct our lives.

We live in the stories we tell ourselves. It’s really simple. We can continue to tell ourselves and our children that the species we belong to is a crawling, diseased, viral cancer smear, only fit for extinction, and let’s see where that leads us.

We can continue to project our self-loathing and narcissistic terror of personal mortality onto our culture, our civilization, our planet, until we wreck the promise of the world for future generations in a fit of sheer self-induced panic...

...or we can own up to the scientific fact that we are all physically connected as parts of a single giant organism, imagine better ways to live and grow...and then put them into practice. We can stop pissing about, start building starships, and get on with the business of being adults.

The ’Oratorio’ is nothing less than the Shazam!, the Kimota! for Western Culture and we would do well to remember it in our currently trying times.

The key theme of the ‘Dark Age’ of comics was loss and recovery of wonder - McGregor’s Killraven trawling through the apocalyptic wreckage of culture in his search for poetry, meaning and fellowship, Captain Mantra, amnesiac in Robert Mayer’s Superfolks, Alan Moore’s Mike Maxwell trudging through the black and white streets of Thatcher’s Britain, with the magic word of transformation burning on the tip of his tongue.

My own work has been an ongoing attempt to repeat the magic word over and over until we all become the kind of superheroes we’d all like to be. Ha hah ha.

Newsarama: The structure of the 12 issues involves both Superman’s 12 labors and his impending death. Do you feel the threat of his demise brings out the best in Superman’s already–high character, or did you intend it more as a window for the audience to understand how he sees the world?

Grant Morrison: In trying to do the “big,” ultimate Superman story, we wanted to hit on all the major beats that define the character – the “death of Superman” story has been told again and again and had to be incorporated into any definitive take. Superman’s death and rebirth fit the sun god myth we were establishing, and, as you say, it added a very terminal ticking clock to the story.

NRAMA: When we talked earlier this year, we discussed the neurotic quality of the Silver Age stories. Looking at the series as a whole, you consistently invert this formula. Superman is faced with all these crises that could be seen as personifying his neuroses, but for the most part he handles them with a level head and comes across as being very at peace with himself. You talked about your discussion with an in–character Superman fan at a convention years ago, but I am curious as to how you determined Superman’s mindset.

GM: I felt we had to live up to the big ideas behind Superman. I don’t take my daft job lightly. It’s all I’ve got.

As the project got going, I wasn’t thinking about Silver Ages or Dark Ages or anything about the comics I’d read, so much as the big shared idea of “Superman” and that “S” logo I see on T–shirts everywhere I go, on girls and boys. That communal Superman. I wanted us to get the precise energy of Platonic Superman down on the page.

The “S” hieroglyph, the super–sigil, stands for the very best kind of man we can imagine, so the subject dictated the methodical, perfectionist approach. As I’ve mentioned before, I keep this aspect of my job fresh for myself by changing my writing style to suit the project, the character or the artist.

With something like Batman R.I.P., I’m aiming for a frenzied Goth Pulp-Noir; punk-psych, expressionist shadows and jagged nightmare scene shifts, inspired by Batman’s roots and by the snapping, fluttering of his uncanny cape. Final Crisis was written, with the Norse Ragnarok and Biblical Revelations in mind, as a story about events more than characters. A doom-laden, Death Metal myth for the wonderful world of Fina(ncia)l Crisis/Eco-breakdown/Terror Trauma we all have to live in.

The subject matter drives the execution. And then, of course, the artists add their own vision and nuance. With All Star Superman, “Frank” and I were able to spend a lot of time together talking it through, and we agreed it had to be about grids, structure, storybook panel layouts, an elegance of form, a clarity of delivery. “Classical” in every sense of the word. The medium, the message, the story, the character, all working together as one simple equation.

Frank Quitely, a Glasgow Art School boy, completely understood without much explanation, the deep structural underpinnings of the series and how to embody them in his layouts. There’s a scene in issue # 8, set on the Bizarro world, where we see Le Roj handing Superman his rocket plans. Look at the arrangement of the figures of Zibarro, Le Roj, Superman and Bizaro–Superman and you’ll see one attempt to make us of Renaissance compositions.

The sense of sunlit Zen calm we tried to get into All Star is how I imagine it might feel to think the way Superman thinks all the time - a thought process that is direct, clean, precise, mathematical, ordered. A mind capable of fantastical imagination but grounded in the everyday of his farm upbringing with nice decent folks. Rich with humour and tears and deep human significance, yet tuned to a higher key. We tried to hum along for a little while, that’s all.

In honor of the character’s primal position in the development of the superhero narrative, I hoped we could create an “ultimate” hero story, starring the ultimate superhero.

Basically, I suppose I felt Superman deserved the utmost application of our craft and intelligence in order to truly do him justice.

Otherwise, I couldn’t have written this book if I hadn’t watched my big, brilliant dad decline into incoherence and death. I couldn’t have written it if I’d never had my heart broken, or mended. I couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t known what it felt like to be idolized, misunderstood, hated for no clear reason, loved for all my faults, forgotten, remembered...

Writing All Star Superman was, in retrospect, also a way of keeping my mind in the clean sunshine while plumbing the murkiest depths of the imagination with that old pair of c****s Darkseid and Doctor Hurt. Good riddance.

Newsarama: This is touched on in other questions, but how much of the Silver/Bronze Age backstory matters here? What do you see as Superman's life prior to All-Star Superman? (What was going on with this Superman while the Byrne revamp took hold?)

Grant Morrison: When I introduced the series in an interview online, I suggested that All Star Superman could be read as the adventures of the ‘original’ Pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths Superman, returning after 20 plus years of adventures we never got to see because we were watching John Byrne‘s New Superman on the other channel. If ‘Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow?’ and the Byrne reboot had never happened, where would that guy be now?

This was more to provide a sense, probably limited and ill-considered, of what the tone of the book might be like. I never intended All Star Superman as a direct continuation of the Weisinger or Julius Schwartz-era Superman stories. The idea was always to create another new version of Superman using all my favorite elements of past stories, not something ‘Age’ specific.

I didn’t collect Superman comics until the ‘70s and I’m not interested enough in pastiche or nostalgia to spend 6 years of my life playing post-modern games with Superman. All Star isn’t written, drawn or colored to look or read like a Silver Age comic book.

All Star Superman is not intended as arch commentary on continuity or how trends in storytelling have changed over the decades. It’s not retro or meta or anything other than its own simple self; a piece of drawing and writing that is intended by its makers to capture the spirit of its subject to the best of their capabilities, wisdom and talent.

Which is to say, we wanted our Superman story be about life, not about comics or superheroes, current events or politics. It’s about how it feels, specifically to be a man...in our dreams! Hopefully that means our 12 issues are also capable of wide interpretation.

So as much as we may have used a few recognizable Silver Age elements like Van-Zee and Sylv(i)a and the Bottle City of Kandor, the ensemble Daily Planet cast embodies all the generations of Superman. Perry White is from 1940, Steve Lombard is from the Schwartz-era ‘70s, Ron Troupe - the only black man in Metropolis - appeared in 1991. Cat Grant is from 1987 and so on.

P.R.O.J.E.C.T. refers back to Jack Kirby’s DNA Project from his ‘70s Jimmy Olsen stories, as well as to The Cadmus Project from ’90s Superboy and Superman stories. Doomsday is ‘90s. Kal Kent, Solaris and the Infant Universe of Qwewq all come from my own work on Superman in the same decade. Pa Kent’s heart attack is from ‘Superman the Movie‘. We didn’t use Brainiac because he’d been the big bad in Earth 2 but if we had, we’d have used Brainiac’s Kryptonian origin from the animated series and so on.

I also used quite a few elements of John Byrne’s approach. Byrne made a lot of good decisions when he rebooted the whole franchise in 1986 and I wanted to incorporate as much as I could of those too.

Our Superman in All Star was never Superboy, for instance. All Star Superman landed on Earth as a normal, if slightly stronger and fitter infant, and only began to manifest powers in adolescence when he’d finally soaked up enough yellow solar radiation to trigger his metamorphosis.

The Byrne logic seemed to me a better way to explain how his powers had developed across the decades, from the skyscraper leaps of the early days to the speed-of-light space flight of the high Silver Age. And more importantly, it made the Superman myth more poignant - the story of a farm boy who turned into an alien as he reached adolescence. I felt that was something that really enriched Superman. He grew away from his home, his family, his adopted species as he became Superman. His teenage years are a record of his transformation from normal boy to super-being.

As you say, there are more than just Silver Age influences in the book. Basically we tried to create a perfect synthesis of every Superman era. So much so, that it should just be taken as representative of an ‘age’ all its own.

In the end, however, I do think that the Silver Age type stories, with their focus on human problems and foibles, have a much wider appeal than a lot of the work which followed. They’re more like fables or folk tales than the later ‘comic book superhero’ stories of Superman when he became just another colorful costume in the crowd...and perhaps that’s why All Star seemed to resemble those books more than it does a typical modern Marvel or DC comic. It was our intention to present a more universal, mainstream Superman.

NRAMA: In your depiction of Krypton and the Kryptonians, you show the complexity of Superman’s relationship between humanity and Earth even further. Krypton has that scientific paradise quality to it, but the Kryptonians are also portrayed as slightly aloof and detached, even Jor-El. But from Bar-El to the people of Kandor, they’re touched by Superman’s goodness. What do you see as the fundamental difference between Kryptonians and Earthlings, and how has Superman’s character been shaped by each?

GM: My version of Krypton was, again, synthesized from a number of different approaches over the decades.  In mythic terms, if Superman is the story of a young king, found and raised by common people, then Krypton is the far distant kingdom he lost. It’s the secret bloodline, the aristocratic heritage that makes him special, and a hero. At the same time, Krypton is something that must be left behind for Superman to become who he is - i.e. one of us. Krypton gives him his scientific clarity of mind, Earth makes his heart blaze.

I liked the very early Jerry Siegel descriptions where Krypton is a planet of advanced supermen and women (I already played with that a little in Marvel Boy where Noh-Varr was written to be the Marvel Superboy basically). To that, I added the rich, science fiction detailing of the Silver Age Krypton stories and the slightly detached coolness that characterized John Byrne’s Krypton, which I re-interpreted through the lens of Dzogchen Buddhist thought, probably the most pragmatic, chilly and rational philosophic system on the planet and the closest, I felt, to how Kryptonians might see things.

We also took some time to redesign the crazy, multicolored Kryptonian flag (you can see our version in Kandor in issue #10). The flag, as originally imagined, seemed like the last thing Kryptonians would endorse, so we took the multicolored-rays-around-a-circle design and recreated it - the central circle is now red, representing Krypton’s star, Rao, while the rays, rather than arbitrary colors, become representations of the spectrum of visible light pouring from Rao into the inky black of space. In this way, the flag, that bizarre emblem of nationalism becomes a scientific hieroglyph.

Showing Krypton and Kryptonians was also important as a way of stressing why Superman wears that costume and why it makes absolute sense that he looks the way he does. I don’t see the red and blue suit as a flag or as rewoven baby blankets. There’s no need for Superman to dress the way he does but it made sense to think of his outfit as his ‘national costume‘.

The way I see it, the standard superhero outfit, the familiar Superman suit with the pants on the outside, is what everyone wore on Krypton, give or take a few fashion accessories like hoods and headbands, chest crests and variant colors. In fact, all other superheroes are just copying the fashions on Krypton, lost planet of the super-people.

Superman wears his ’action-suit’ the way a patriotic Scotsman would wear a kilt. It’s a sign of his pride in his alien heritage.

Newsarama: Although All–Star Superman ties in with DC One Million, you style of writing has changed dramatically since then. How do you feel about One Million now?

Grant Morrison: I just read it again and liked it a lot. Comics were definitely happier, breezier and more confident in their own strengths before Hollywood and the Internet turned the business of writing superhero stories into the production of low budget storyboards or, worse, into conformist, fruitless attempts to impress or entertain a small group of people who appear to hate comics and their creators.

NRAMA: Obviously, this book is the most explicit SF–Christ story since Behold the Man, only...happy. Superman/Christ parallels have existed for decades, but this story makes it absolutely explicit, from laying his hands on the sick and dying to...well, most of issue #12. You’ve dealt with Christ themes before, particularly in The Mystery Play, but outside of the comics, how do you see Superman as a Christ figure for the “real” world?

GM: The “Superman as Christ” thing is a little too reductive for me, and tends to overlook the fact that Superman is by no means a pacifist in the Christ sense. Superman would never turn the other cheek; Superman punches out the bully. Superman is a fighter.

When did Christ ever batter the Devil through a mountain?

The thing I disliked about the Superman Returns movie was the American Christ angle, which reduced Superman to a sniveling, masochistic wreck, crawling around on the floor, taking a kicking from everyone. This approach had an odd and slightly disturbing S&M flavor, which didn’t play well to the character’s strengths at all and seemed to derive entirely from a kind of Catholic vision of the suffering, martyred Jesus.

It’s not that he’s based on Jesus, but simply that a lot of the mythical sun god elements that have been layered onto the Christ story also appear in the story of Superman. I suppose I see Superman more as pagan sci–fi. He’s a secular messiah, a science redeemer with tough guy muscles and a very direct and clear morality.

NRAMA: Continuing the religious themes, in issue #10, you have Superman literally giving birth to himself, both philosophically and as a character – a nice little meta–moment showing how Superman inspires a world where he is only fiction. How did that idea come about?

GM: It came from the challenge we’d set ourselves: as I said, issue #10 had been left as a blank space into which the single most coherent condensation of all our ideas about Superman were destined to fit.

I wanted to do a “day in the life” story. So much of All Star had been about this threat to Superman himself, so we wanted to show him going about a typical day saving people and doing good.

Then came the title “Neverending,” which comes from the opening announcement – “Faster than a speeding bullet!...” of the Superman radio show from 1940, and seemed to me to be as good a title for a Superman story as any I could think of. It seemed to distil everything about Superman’s battle and his legend into a single word. And the story structure itself was designed to loop endlessly, so it went well with that.

On top of that went the idea of the Last Will and Testament of Superman. A dying god writing his will seemed like an interesting structure to use. Then came the idea to fit all of human history into that single 24 hours. And then to show the development of the Superman idea through human culture from the earliest Australian Aboriginal notions of super–beings ‘descended” from the sky, through the complex philosophical system of Hinduism, onto the Renaissance concept of the ideal man, via the refinements of Nietzche and finally, down to that smiling, hopeful Joe Shuster sketch; the final embodiment of humanity’s glorious, uplifting notion of the superman become reduced to a drawing, a story for kids, a worthless comic book.

And also what that could mean in a holographic fractal universe, where the smallest part contains and reflects the whole.

Of course the next panel in that sequence is happening in the real world and would show you, the reader, sitting with the latest Superman issue in your hands, deep within the Infant Universe of Qwewq in the Fortress of Solitude, today, wherever you are. In “Neverending,” the reader becomes wrapped in a self–referential loop of story and reality. If you actually, seriously think about what is happening at this point in the story, if you meditate upon the curious entanglement of the real and the fictional, you will become enlightened in this life apparently. According to some texts.

NRAMA: On a personal level, you’ve explored all types of religions and philosophies in your work. What is your take on religion and how it influences humanity, and the Christian take on Jesus Christ in particular?

GM: I think religion per se, is a ghastly blight on the progress of the human species towards the stars. At the same time, it, or something like it, has been an undeniable source of comfort, meaning and hope for the majority of poor bastards who have ever lived on Earth, so I’m not trying to write it off completely. I just wish that more people were educated to a standard where they could understand what religion is and how it works. Yes, it got us through the night for a while, but ultimately, it’s one of those ugly, stupid arse–over–backwards things we could probably do without now, here on the Planet of the Apes.

Religion is to spirituality what porn is to sex. It’s what the Hollywood 3–act story template is to real creative writing.

Religion creates a structure which places “special,” privileged people (priests) between ordinary people and the divine, as if there could even be any separation: as if every moment, every thought, every action was not already an expression of dynamic ‘divinity” at work.

As I’ve said before, the solid world is just the part of heaven we’re privileged to touch and play with. You don’t need a priest or a holy man to talk to “god” on your behalf: just close your eyes and say hello. “God” is no more, no less, than the sum total of all matter, all energy, all consciousness, as experienced or conceptualized from a timeless perspective where everything ever seems to present all at once. “God” is in everything, all the time and can be found there by looking carefully. The entire universe, including the scary, evil bits, is a thought “God” is thinking, right now.

As far as I can figure it out from my own reading and my own experience of how the spiritual world works, Jesus was, as they say, way cool: a man who achieved a state of consciousness, which nowadays would get him a diagnosis of temporal lobe epilepsy (in the days of the Emperor Tiberius, he was crucified for his ideas, today he’d be laughed at, mocked or medicated).

This “holistic” mode of consciousness (which Luthor experiences briefly at the end of All Star Superman) announces itself as a heartbreaking connection, a oneness, with everything that exists...but you don’t have to be Superman to know what that feeling is like. There are a ton of meditation techniques which can take you to this place. I don’t see it as anything supernatural or religious, in fact, I think it’s nothing more than a developmental level of human consciousness, like the ability to see perspective – which children of 4 cannot do but children of 6 can.

Everyone who’s familiar with this upgrade will tell you the same thing: it feels as if “alien” or “angelic” voices – far more intelligent, coherent and kindly than the voices you normally hear in your head – are explaining the structure of time and space and your place in it.  This identification with a timeless supermind containing and resolving within itself all possible thoughts and contradictions, is what many people, unsurprisingly, mistake for an encounter with “God.” However, given that this totality must logically include and resolve all possible thoughts and concepts, it can also be interpreted as an actual encounter with God, so I’m not here to give anyone a hard time over interpretation.

Some people have the experience and believe the God of their particular culture has chosen them personally to have a chat with. These people may become born–again Christians, fundamentalist Muslims, devotees of Shiva, or misunderstood lunatics. Some “contactees” interpret the voices they hear erroneously as communications from an otherworldly, alien intelligence, hence the proliferation of “abduction” accounts in recent decades, which share most of their basic details with similar accounts, from earlier centuries, of people being taken away by “fairies” or “little people”.

Some, who like to describe themselves as magicians, will recognize the “alien” voice as the “Holy Guardian Angel”.

In timeless, spaceless consciousness, the singular human mind blurs into a direct experience of the totality of all consciousness that has ever been or will ever be. It feels like talking with God but I see that as an aspect of science, not religion.

As Peter Barnes wrote in “The Ruling Class”, “I know I must be God because when I pray to Him, I find I’m talking to myself.”

Newsarama: When we spoke earlier this year, you talked about some of your ideas for future All Star stories. Are you moving forward on those, or have you started working on different ideas since then?

Grant Morrison: I haven’t had time to think about them for a while. I did have the stories worked out, and I’d like to do more, but right now it feels like Frank and Jamie and I have said all there is to be said. I don’t know if I’m ready to do All Star Superman with anyone else right now. I have other plans.

NRAMA: You end the book with Superman having uplifted humanity – having inspired them through his sacrifice and great deeds, and with the potential to pass his powers on to humanity still there. Do you plan to explore this concept further, or would you prefer to leave it open–ended?

GM: I may go back to the Son of Superman in some way. At the same time, it’s best left open–ended. I like the idea that Superman gets to have his cake and eat it; he becomes golden and mythical and lives forever as a dream. Yet, he also is able to sire a child who will carry his legacy into the future. He kicks ass in both the spiritual and the temporal spheres!

NRAMA: The notion of transcendence – always a big part of your work. But the debate about All Star Superman is whether or not it "transcends its genre." Superman becomes transcendent within the series itself, and inspires the beings on Qwewq, but does the work aspire to more than that? Is it simply the greatest version of a Superman story, and that’s enough?

GM: That would certainly be enough if it were true.

It’s a pretty high–level attempt by some smart people to do the Superman concept some justice, is all I can say. It’s intended to work as a set of sci–fi fables that can be read by children and adults alike. I’d like to think you can go to it if you’re feeling suicidal, if you miss your dad, if you’ve had to take care of a difficult, ailing relative, if you’ve ever lost control and needed a good friend to put you straight, if you love your pets, if you wish your partner could see the real you...All Star is about how Superman deals with all of that.

It’s a big old Paul Bunyan style mythologizing of human - and in particular male - experience. In that sense I’d like to think All Star Superman does transcend genre in that it’s intended to be read on its own terms and needs absolutely no understanding of genre conventions or history around it to grasp what’s going on.

In today’s world, in today’s media climate designed to foster the fear our leaders like us to feel because it makes us easier to push around. In a world where limp, wimpy men are forced to talk tough and act ‘badass’ even though we all know they’re shitting it inside. In a world where the measure of our moral strength has come to lie in the extremity of the images we’re able to look at and stomach. In a world, I’m reliably told, that’s going to the dogs, the real mischief, the real punk rock rebellion, is a snarling, ‘fuck you’ positivity and optimism. Violent optimism in the face of all evidence to the contrary is the Alpha form of outrage these days. It really freaks people out.

I have a desire not to see my culture and my fellow human beings fall helplessly into step with a middle class media narrative that promises only planetary catastrophe, as engineered by an intrinsically evil and corrupt species which, in fact, deserves everything it gets.

Is this relentless, downbeat insistence that the future has been cancelled really the best we can come up with? Are we so fucked up we get off on terrifying our children? It’s not funny or ironic anymore and that’s why we wrote All Star Superman the way we did. Everything has changed. ‘Dark’ entertainment now looks like hysterical, adolescent, ‘Zibarro’ crap. That’s what my Final Crisis series is about too.

NRAMA (aka Tim Callahan): Continuing with the theme of transcendence: The words "ineffectual" and "surrender" are repeated throughout the book. Discuss.

GM: Discuss yourself, Callahan! I know you have the facilities and I should think it’s all rather obvious.  

NRAMA: What was the inspiration for the image of Superman in the sun at the end? (I confess this question comes as the result of much unsuccessful Googling)

GM: I didn’t have any specific reference in mind - just that one we‘ve all sort of got in our heads. I drew the figure as a sketch, intended to be reminiscent of William Blake’s cosmic figures, Russian Constructivist Soviet Socialist Worker type posters, and Leonardo’s ‘Proportions of the Human Figure‘. The position of the legs hints at the Buddhist swastika, the clockwise sun symbol. It was to me, the essence of that working class superheroic ideal I mentioned, condensed into a final image of mythic Superman, - our eternal, internal, guiding, selfless, tireless, loving superstar. The daft All Star Superman title of the comic is literalized in this last picture. It’s the ‘fearful symmetry’ of the Enlightenment project - an image of genius, toil, and our need to make things, to fashion art and artifacts, as a form of superhuman, divine imitation.

It was Superman as this fusion of Renaissance/Enlightenment ideas about Man and Cosmos, an impossible union of Blake and Newton. A Pop Art ‘Vitruvian Man‘. The inspiration for the first letter of the new future alphabet!

As you can see, we spent a lot of time thinking about all this and purifying it down to our own version of the gold. I’m glad it’s over.

NRAMA: Finally: What, above all else, would you like people to take away from All Star Superman?

GM: That we spent a lot of time thinking about this!

No. What I hope is that people take from it the unlikelihood that a piece of paper, with little ink drawings of figures, with little written words, can make you cry, can make your heart soar, can make you scared, sad, or thrilled. How mental is that?

That piece of paper is inert material, the corpse of some tree, pulped and poured, then given new meaning and new life when the real hours and real emotions that the writer and the artist, the colorist, the letter the editor translated onto the physical page, meet with the real hours and emotions of a reader, of all readers at once, across time, generations and distance.

And think about how that experience, the simple experience of interacting with a paper comic book, along with hundreds of thousands of others across time and space, is an actual doorway onto the beating heart of the imminent, timeless world of “Myth” as defined above. Not just a drawing of it but an actual doorway into timelessness and the immortal world where we are all one together.

My grief over the loss of my dad can be Superman’s grief, can trigger your own grief, for your own dad, for all our dads. The timeless grief that’s felt by Muslims and Christians and Agnostics alike. My personal moments of great and romantic love, untainted by the everyday, can become Superman’s and may resonate with your own experience of these simple human feelings.

In the one Mythic moment we’re all united, kissing our Lover for the First time, the Last time, the Only time, honoring our dear Dad under a blood red sky, against a darkening backdrop, with Mum telling us it’ll all be okay in the end.

If we were able to capture even a hint of that place and share it with our readers, that would be good enough for me.

#All Star Superman #Grant Morrison #Superman

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