#almost there fic

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Almost There

Fandom: DC Comics, Flashfam

Summary: Everyone always knew Bart was eccentric, but the family becomes concerned when he starts talking to someone that doesn’t exist.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Bart Allen, Thad Thawne, Owen Mercer, Don Allen, Meloni Allen, Digger Harkness, Iris West, Barry Allen, Max Mercury, Helen Claiborne

Relationships: DonMeloni, BarryIris, WallyLinda

Additional Tags: Bart Allen-centric, Thad Thawne POV, No Powers AU, Imaginary Friends, Misdiagnosis, Blind Date, Hurt Bart Allen, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter One: We Were Six

We were six years old when Bart nearly died. Six. He was in the hospital for four days. It was the longest we’d ever been apart. I might’ve lost my mind if Owen hadn’t been there. I still feel like that sometimes when we’re apart… Like he’ll die and leave me missing the other piece of me. Bart’s never been careful, and I guess that’s why I’m sitting here writing all this. Someone has to write Bart’s story, and it should be me. Maybe it’ll help me be less afraid of losing him. Maybe it’ll make him more careful.

Okay. How do I start? Let’s try this:

We’re mirror-image twins. An extremely rare occurrence among twins. He was right-handed, and I was left. He had a birthmark on the left side of his chest at the bottom of his ribcage. I had the same birthmark on the right. Bart had a crooked grin where his lips curled up toward the right side of his face, and my grin curled up toward the left side. We did everything together, but we couldn’t be more different. I was shy, boring, and prone to emotional outbursts, while Bart was outgoing, odd, and unruffled. I wanted to be him sometimes. Absorb the best parts of him and walk around smiling his smile and laughing his laugh. But that’s beside the point. We’re mirror-image twins… And no one knows my twin better than I do. That’s why I know he’s not hallucinating. So don’t assume I’m writing this about my poor sick brother. I’m writing about the tragedy of strange gifts.

Bart was sick with pneumonia when we were six years old, and I was sure he’d die. I could feel it. It felt like the moment before you pass out, and your heart flutters and your head goes all fuzzy. I remember gripping the hospital bed's railing as the doctors tried to separate us. I couldn’t leave his side. The monitor beeped, alerting the nurses to his low oxygen level, and his eyes rolled back. I was twinless for eighty-five seconds. Eighty-five agonozing seconds. My body went cold, and Owen dragged me out of the room, kicking and screaming, but I couldn’t hear myself.

Then Grandpa Barry came out, and he rubbed my back. “It’s okay. Bart’s okay… They’ve got him back. He needs to rest, but he’ll be better once they stabilize him,” Grandpa Barry reassured me. He got us a pizza, and we ate in the parking lot that night because I refused to leave the hospital. Bart slept in a medically-induced coma for two days until the doctors said my brother could breathe without assistance, and I visited him on the third day. He sipped warm apple juice through a straw, and Mom held the cup.

None of us spoke. The room was eerily silent as we waited for Bart to speak. “Don’t go,” Bart rasped as he stared straight ahead. None of us moved. It was like he saw straight through us.

“Who’re you talking to, Bubba?” Dad asked.

“My friend… The lady,” Bart whispered, “She’s right there.”

Mom smiled and exhaled gently. “Oh, is she your age?” Mom questioned.

“No. My friend’s almost a grownup… Like Wally… Do you know her, Wally?” Bart asked. Wally knit his brows together and shook his head.

“Is she cute?” Wally asked. I couldn’t speak. They were all making jokes, and Bart was serious. I think he knew they didn’t believe him.

“She’s not laughing,” Bart muttered. I climbed into bed with him and laid my head on his shoulder.

“Bart? Do you want me to stay?” I asked. I wanted him to ask me, but I knew he wouldn’t. I wanted him to tell me he needed me, but he didn’t speak. He linked pinkies with me. That gesture meant everything to me. It was our I love you. It was our Never leave me.

It was the first time he mentioned his friend, but it wouldn’t be the last. To be honest, I was so preoccupied with being jealous of her that I never once doubted her existence. Bart didn’t get released from the hospital until the end of the week, but no one told me why he couldn’t come home. Not the real reason anyway. I was much older when Grandpa told me Bart had a brain examination. I felt terrible for all the years I joked about him getting his head checked.

Grandpa stayed home with Owen and me, playing games with us, while Mom, Dad, and Grandma stayed with Bart. We sat on the floor, gluing jigsaw puzzles with wood glue and small wooden boards. The jigsaws taught me a lesson. You start with the edges to see the picture. That was how people had to see Bart. Once you got Bart’s outer pieces, you could see him for what he was. And that’s how I managed to make sense of Bart’s gift my whole life.

Everyone thought he came back wrong, but no one would have known this was his gift all along. Even when the hospital discharged him, Bart didn’t get to come straight home. He got to stay with Uncle Max and Aunt Helen. Mom said he needed the extra attention and the wide-open space. I cried constantly during that time.

It wasn't until I stopped eating that they brought him home. I never had the words to say what I wanted from my parents, and it frustrated me to no end. Owen tried to understand, but no one knew the bond I had with Bart. No one could possibly understand how I felt. Not even Dad.

I had to be there when we picked him up at the airport. His eyes never fixed themselves on me. He always looked elsewhere. I wanted him to see me. Run to me. I wanted him to show signs that he loved me like I loved him. "Helen, she is real! You can't see her, but she's there! And she's not-!" I touched his hand.

"I missed you," I whispered, "Could you-?" I couldn't ask him for a hug. I was so terrified he'd say no.

"Let's go play," Bart replied angrily as he grabbed my hand. He led me away from the adults and toward the treehouse Grandpa built. We climbed up the ladder and shut the door. "They want to make her go away… I like her." He muttered something after that, but I couldn't understand it. To anyone else he would've seemed crazy, but I couldn't see him like that. It seemed strange to me that the adults were so frightened of Bart's friend. He liked her and they wanted her to go away. It didn't make any sense.

"Bart? Are you angry?" I asked. Bart looked away from me and nodded at the window before cradling my cheek and kissing my forehead. It was such a tender and compassionate gesture. Completely out of Bart's character.

That's how I knew she wasn't imaginary. I smiled our crooked grin and threw myself into his arms. "I can't see her, but I know she's there," I thought. I wanted to say it aloud, but I couldn't.

[paintedcrows]

Had a silly thought about hypothetical cat curse shenanigans with @dark-lord-of-awesomeness's How to Cat Burglar a Family ;)

Bonus doodle!!

[dcxdpdabbles]

Dick bored in class thinks loudly: Are there any mind riders here?

Danny thinks back: Yeah, hi.

Dick: *Falling out of his desk with a shriek*

Teacher: Mr. Grayson! If you are going to disrupt this class one more time, I'll have you thrown out!

Dick: Sorry, sorry. *sits in desk mentally shouting* Who are you!? What information have you stolen from my mind!?

Danny: Whoa, calm down there, Robin. You were the one who asked. I thought you already knew about me.

Dick: How could I possibly know about you!?

Danny: You literally lit candles for me yesterday. You said this lovely prayer, too, though I couldn't understand it

Dick: I lit candles for the dead homeless kid i found- oh. You're a ghost.

Danny: In a way.

Dick: Did the light not guide you home? Should I light more candles?

Danny: If you like. What's that about anyway? The candles?

Dick: It's a Romani tradition. Ussually, the candle is light on your death and kept on until the funeral, but I found you too late, so I just made a circle.

Danny: That's so sweet. Thank you for including me in your people's way.

Dick: Of course. Are you haunting me now?

Danny: *Literally sitting behind him in class* One could say that yes.

Dick: Cool. What's your name?

Danny: Call me Phantom.

[eddiediaaz]

(you don't have to be a frequent enjoyer of either to vote. weed can mean any type of marijuana products: joints, edibles, oils, etc.)

add where you're from in the tags if you feel like it!

[pacificwaternymph]

Did you guys know that Duke's tag on Ao3 only has 7,000 fics? Because I didn't.

[numberonedukethomasapologist]

(This is so random and I'm going a bit insane at almost 3am😫)

Duke: Tim! Wssp?

Tim: *face half an inch away from his phone* reading.

Duke: reading what?

Tim: 🧍🏻‍♂️

Duke:🧍🏾‍♂️

Tim *mumbles*

Duke: huh?

Tim: *mumbles a bit louder* superbat😔

Duke: omg?? *whips out his phone and opens a recent tab* same?!

*staring at eachother in disbelief for a solid minute*

[Meanwhile in the other room]

Jason: *writing superbat fics*

[puppppppppy]

who is your favorite AA character? 👁️👁️

ziska… I hope capcom brings her back someday

[choccy-milky]

nowhere in hogwarts is safe to snog 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨🤺 one of my fav scenes from @myokk's oneshot "clumsy" which you can read here! its about seb and mc being stubborn idiots in denial of their own feelings while also pining after each other the entire time 🥰 GO READ IT!!💖💖

[thekaiserroll]

Hug

It's nearly impossible to have a quiet and peaceful day with the crew, like the strawhats. Nami is mostly used to the noise on Going Merry but one day she gets fed up with Zoro and Sanji arguing. Not only are they extremely loud, but they've also already broken way too many things during their fights.

She decides that If they want to act like brats, then she's going to treat them as such. So she makes them apologize and hug each other in silence for an hour. None of them are happy about this punishment, but Nami threatened to raise Zoro's debt, and Sanji couldn't say no to her. It could be worse.

It's awkward enough for them to not incite any fight for a long time and Nami is quite proud of herself. She knows it won't last forever but at least now she knows how to handle them. It inevitably happens again. And again. And again.

Much to her surprise, those fights became more and more frequent. And what's even weirder is that she could see the way both Zoro and Sanji occasionally glanced at her to make sure she was nearby. It's almost as if they wanted someone to make them hug each other. As if they needed an excuse.... these idiots.

Soon, they don't even need Nami's help. When they aren't busy training, cooking or fighting, they cuddle together. Sometimes Luffy or Chopper would join them, but most of the crew knew it was their time.

After two years spent separately, they became extremely clingy. It's no surprise when they start sleeping in the same bed. What is surprising is that despite them behaving like a lovey-dovey couple, those oblivious idiots are STILL unaware of each other's feelings.

[hungharrington]

Thinking about Steve cumming quickly - like under 30 seconds of thrusting because he's just so in love with you he couldn't help it

He hides his face in your neck afterwards all embarrassed and you rub his back to bring him back down from the intensity of it all

To add to this - he also has certain triggers that make him cum immediately.

You say you love him, he cums. You scratch at his tummy/happy trail, he cums. You gently pull on his hair, he cums.

My apologies if these thoughts have already been given but it's all I've been thinking about this morning 😭😭

a most delicious ask i’ve been hoarding 🫶 i LOVE all these thoughts i’m sry i didn’t get to incorporate all of them !! is this hot? idk…. but it’s got sum love in it tehe MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Look, Steve Harrington doesn’t have his reputation for nothing, okay?

He’s a ladies man, through and through. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands, he loves getting his face in between a pair of thighs, and perhaps most importantly, he is not a minute man.

Steve Harrington has stamina.

At least, he certainly thought he did— but that was before you. But in his defense, nobody told him that sex is a hundred times better when you love the person. A thousand better if they love you back.

And, god, does he fucking love you.

You’re a dream— all laid out on the bed beneath him, chest bare and eyes soft and heavy. Your lips are sheened with spit and all kiss-bitten and Steve has no doubt he looks the same. Kissing you never gets old. His cock throbs, aching for some friction and just begging to be buried inside you.

“Well?” You say, somewhere between a tease and a breathy gasp. “What’re you waiting for?”

Your fingers slip into the waistband of your panties but Steve is quick to knock them away, replacing them with his own hands. He grins up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can’t let you do my favourite part now, can I?”

You giggle. With that his fingers start to trail down your naval, slow and sensually, dragging the fabric with them. Your hips move to accommodate him and your breath hitches as he drags them down your thighs that part as he wrangles them off your ankles, inviting him in.

Steve nearly groans at the mere sight—a hot surge twisting in his tummy that goes straight to his cock. God, he must be losing blood with how much blood is rushing to harden it up. Or maybe he’s just too enamoured with you and that’s enough to make him breathless. Either way, he’s aching.

“God, baby,” He says, voice gravelly. “Just look at you.”

His hands shift up from grasping lightly at your ankles up, up, up, til he’s nudging your thighs apart further. His dark eyes flick up to your face, his expression one of hunger.

“Y’so pretty, honey,” He coos.

You flush, feeling somehow more naked at his compliment, knowing he’s being sincere. Reaching up, you drape your hand around his neck and urge him forward slowly, pressing up to scrape your lips against his.

“Oh, yeah?” You breathe, your lips twitching up at the obvious way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. “Which part of me’s so pretty?”

Steve chuckles, his gaze switching between your own and says, “All of you,” before he kisses you like he’s starved of the taste of you.

Breaking the kiss, he leans back and his hand disappears into his bedside table for a condom. He makes quick work of it, pausing to give himself a firm squeeze around the base as he does— fuck, he’s going to bust the moment he gets inside of you if he doesn’t take a moment.

But you’re so damn hot — and eyeing him with a heavy desire that makes his tummy hot. He’s not sure he can wait.

He shifts himself up and settles on his hands on your thigh, pushing it back further so he can line himself up and sink in tantalisingly slow. Your cunt is warm and wet, drawing a whiny moan from his throat, and Steve’s head drops into the curve of your shoulder in an instant.

“Fuck,” He hisses, hips flexing to hold back from pushing himself all the way in—a near impossible task considering the breathy little noise you make. God, fuck, fuck, he can’t move another inch or he’ll lose it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” He gasps.

Your arms looped around his neck tighten, pressing your chest up against his as you make a noise of agreement. You begin to mouth lazily up his throat, feeling the throb of his cock between your legs like a heartbeat, burning hotter and hotter.

“Cmon, Steve,” you whisper, nibbling at his earlobe. Steve keens, his hips shoving forward bit more as he tries to contain himself. “Want you to fuck me,”

He makes another pitiful noise that he’d probably be embarrassed of if he wasn’t so gone. He follows your instructions quickly, shifting his hips so he can start slowing fucking into you. It’s lewd, soft wet noises sounding as he builds up a rhythm, sinking himself into you over and over. Pleasure drools through his gut.

“Stevie,” you pout, panting lightly. “Can’t— can’t see you,” You tug on his hair lightly, trying to encourage his face out of hiding but only succeeding in making him whimper. His cheeks burn hotly but he forces his face up, kissing along your jaw as he does.

His eyes crease open as he pulls back and Steve keens at the sight of you, his plush lips parting in a soft pant. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Normally he’d be still murmuring filthy things into your skin, marking up your neck while his hips roll into you, all does that feel good? and oh, it does when you moan in response.

Instead, he’s the one coming apart and beyond his words. You scrape your hand through his hair again and leave it cupped sweetly on his jaw, your eyes watching closely. Swatching your thumb across his cheek, you moan lightly, “Wanna -uh- wanna see your face, baby— love your pretty face,”

Something tightens up in Steve’s tummy, heat flourishing up his spine and he whimpers loudly, the roll of his hips turning the rapid, jerky thrusts in a moment. Skin slaps against skin and you make the cutest noise at the change of pace. It feels so good—too good. He feels too close, his pleasure scratching the edge of release.

Then you stutter out a breathy, “I love you, Steve,” and the coil in his stomach snaps without warning.

Steve gasps loudly and his entire body tightens, his face burying itself in you neck as his hips fuck into your snug cunt desperately. He all but collapses onto you, his hands curling around your waist tightly as he lets out a string of pathetically whiny noises, coming undone far too quickly.

It takes a moment for you to realise what’s happened— to figure out exactly why Steve suddenly sinks him cock into you with fervor and is whimpering in your ear. He’s trembling lightly you realise, as your arms sweep down his back, letting him fuck through his orgasm.

The pleasure of it drags out and by the time it tapers out, mortification begins to set in. Steve’s only glad he’s hidden his face so you can’t see his flaming cheeks. Fuck. Fuck. He’s never finished that fast before.

“I’m so sorry, you just feel— and you said—” He starts, voice sounding wrecked.

“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt sweetly. You stroke down his back soothingly and Steve can’t help but shiver. He groans loudly.

“Don’t apologise for finishing after 1 minute like a 16 years old virgin?” He asks, going for sarcastic but failing with the embarrassment tinting his tone.

You can’t help but giggle, hand still sweeping over his back comfortingly as you say, “I don’t think that was even a minute, babe.”

Steve groans louder, attempting to press his face further into your neck and nipping at it when you laugh a little louder. You’re being way too sweet about this. Steve’s not sure he can ever show his face again.

“I’m banning you from saying ‘i love you’ in bed,” He says, the words muffled against your skin. You huff another laugh, grinning, and comb your fingers through his hair.

“Boo.” You pout, knowing he’s joking completely. You’re still throbbing and aching for him to keep moving but you know you only have to be patient. He’ll fuck you just as you need it. “You’re no fun.”

“I used to have stamina,” He whines. “What have you done to me?”

You chuckle again, turning and pressing a kiss to his temple as best you can. “Turned you full loverboy. Soon enough, any time I say I love you, you’ll pop a boner.”

From within you, you feel the soft twitch of his dick and Steve’s breath hitches again. He finally digs his face out of your neck, a serious furrow between his brows. “Don’t even joke about that!”

[emo-batboy]

A Wild Battinson (Social Media AU)

Part 57 (Masterlist)

Part 58 Coming At Some Point

@bruciemilf

Hey so uhh it's been a while. (If you look closely, squint a little, I literally made some of these photos over a year ago. I feel SICK. This AU is ancient.)

Here’s the SNL episode once again for the uninitiated.

Okay so hear me out. I know a lot of people were excited to see Caleb discover the batcave yada yada but the #1 rule is No One Figures It Out. Otherwise, the entire point of the series is obsolete and it ends. (Tim does find out ofc but not Caleb. None of the main cast. No OCs.) So he gets let go from babysitting Dick and Jason, mostly because Bruce and Alfred realize their mistake, and he never sees the batcave. RIP. ANYWAYS hope y’all forgive me. Didn’t realize I was implying that until everyone started screaming about it in the comments. Caleb is still blissfully unaware :)

No idea when the next part is coming out. I am currently in an airport banging this out before I convince myself not to post it AGAIN but you guys deserve better. It’s the holidays. So Merry December 19th-ish. Peace :)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Almost There

Fandom: DC Comics, Flashfam

Summary: Everyone always knew Bart was eccentric, but the family becomes concerned when he starts talking to someone that doesn’t exist.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Bart Allen, Thad Thawne, Owen Mercer, Don Allen, Meloni Allen, Digger Harkness, Iris West, Barry Allen, Max Mercury, Helen Claiborne

Relationships: DonMeloni, BarryIris, WallyLinda

Additional Tags: Bart Allen-centric, Thad Thawne POV, No Powers AU, Imaginary Friends, Misdiagnosis, Blind Date, Hurt Bart Allen, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Four: Road Trip

Bart and I were twelve the first time he escaped from the hospital . It was summertime, so I slept with the window cracked even though Mom and Dad told me not to. I had the fan on and my radio played the same ten stories over and over, so I could sleep. I would’ve slept through the night if it hadn’t been for someone jostling me awake. By the time I opened my eyes, I saw a figure crouched in the corner, drinking from my water bottle. I covered my mouth, afraid that if I screamed, the figure would do me harm. So, I sat frozen in my bed, hands over my mouth in horror as tears streamed down my cheeks. The figure stood after drinking all of my water, and they clutched their forehead. “Thad, get dressed and meet me in the swamp. Bring money and your suitcase. Don’t wake anybody up. We gotta get going,” Bart whispered. 

“What—?”

“Hurry,” Bart interrupted as he slipped out of my window and into the dark. I quickly obeyed, worrying that I’d never see him again if I didn’t. I couldn’t think of anything else. I met Bart in the swamp, and we trekked through the mud and the grass to the bus stop on the other side, and we took the bus to some random girl’s house. She sat in front of the public library in a car, smoking a cigarette. 

I didn’t want to get in the car. I was afraid. “Bart, who is this girl?” I asked. 

“Don’t worry. She’s a girl from my group. She’s gonna drive us to Des Moines,” Bart whispered. The girl chucked her cigarette out the window. I didn’t know what she’d do to Bart if I let him go, so I got in the car with him. It was still dark out, but I could see the dark circles around Bart’s eyes. 

I started shaking and crying once the reality of our trip set in. Des Moines was in another state. It was far from Mom and Dad and Digger and Owen… And—. And everything. “Why’s he crying?” the girl asked. “He’s gonna make it look like he’s been kidnapped… Did you kidnap him?” 

“No, I didn’t kidnap him… He’s my brother. He’s just scared. Thad, you hafta stop crying. I’ll take you home after I find what I’m looking for in Des Moines,” Bart explained in a soft voice. 

“Tell me what I am,” I begged with tears in my eyes. 

“You’re the only person in the world who understands… So, you’re the only one that matters right now,” Bart answered. I sucked it up and nodded. As soon as I had his attention, he was gone from me again. Staring into space, reaching for her. My face twisted with pain and contempt as I stared out the window. I felt so jealous inside I thought I’d be sick. 

The girl sighed. “I’m Rose. I stole my dad’s car to drive you guys to Iowa,” Rose explained, “And I like to piss my dad off… You can have an orange and throw the peel in the bag, or you can talk or take a nap. I don’t care.” 

“I’m Thad… How old are you?” Thad questioned. 

“Thirteen… But, who’s gonna suspect that a kid my age can drive like this?” Rose replied. “You’re identical, huh?” 

“Uh-huh… What group were you in with Bart?” I asked. 

“Ask your brother. He might not want me to tell you,” Rose replied. 

I looked over at Bart, and he grabbed my hand. “Bart, what group were you in with Rose?” I asked again. 

He didn’t look at me. I think he touched my hand to make sure I was there. “Anger management… It’s called something else, but I wasn’t paying any attention… I hit somebody in the face,” Bart answered. I nodded. He took off his jacket and draped it over me. “Go to sleep. We’ll be on the road for a while.” I couldn’t sleep at first, though. I was still shaken up and confused, but I didn’t want to ask any questions. He pulled a Bug Juice out of the cooler and gave me one before passing another one up to Rose. 

“No, thanks. If we drive for twelve hours without stopping more than once, we can probably make it to Des Moines without getting caught, which means, one bathroom stop and one gas station stop. We’ll combine the two if we can. If you can’t wait, we’ve got an empty bottle in the back and hand sanitizer in the glove box. We crystal clear?” Rose asked. We both nodded. “I can’t see either of you. Yes or no?”

“Yes,” we both answered. Bart’s cheeks went rosy, and he rolled his window down a crack. I nudged him, but he knew what I was going to ask. So, he nodded. 

**

Twelve hours, six in-car bathroom uses, five Bug Juices, two drive-thrus, and a gas station stop later, we arrived in Des Moines at a house that Bart specifically picked out. He went to the door and knocked before arguing with the man who answered, and he burst into tears. I got out of the car despite Rose telling me not to, and I grabbed his arm. “Linda said she’d be here. I came here for Linda,” Bart cried. 

“I’m so sorry, Mister. Our friend used to live here… And I—. We have to go now. I’m sorry about all of this,” I apologized. It was too late. The man’s wife called the police and they took us in for harassment, car theft, and something else. I couldn’t remember why I was crying so hard, but Rose’s dad came to get her immediately. He’d been tracking her the whole time. 

He made a phone call to both of us, but he didn’t tell me who he called. I would’ve stopped him if he had told me who he called. We were in a holding cell for three hours until Wally got there, and he lost it on us the second we got in the car. Bart started sweating through his clothes in the car, and Wally turned the AC on. Wally stopped yelling for a minute to get a good look at Bart. “Why is he sweating like that? Does he have a fever?” Wally asked. 

“No… It doesn’t—. It feels bad, though… I think you should stop the car,” I warned him. Wally pulled to the shoulder, and Bart opened the door to throw up. I thought it was all the Bug Juice and Twinkies. I couldn’t stop fidgeting, and I started crying because Bart felt sick. And I cried myself sick. “Criminy! You can’t both be—. Ugh! You’re both in so much trouble. So much,” Wally groaned. He took towels from his gym bag and wiped our faces. “Thad talk sense to me. Okay… What’s going on here?” 

I looked at Bart, and Wally shook his head. “No! No. No… Don’t look at Bart. Look at me. Tell me. What the hell both of you were doing in Iowa with a girl, a stolen car, and—? Thad… Thad, what happened?” Wally asked. I couldn’t stop crying. 

“My head hurts—.”

“Thad, this is serious… What were you thinking?” Wally asked. 

I couldn’t tell Bart, so I told the version of the truth that didn’t betray my love for my brother. “I just wanted my brother back,” I sobbed. Wally frowned and shushed me as he kept wiping my face with the towel. 

“Okay… I’m sorry for shouting at you both, but you kids could’ve been seriously hurt. Bart is ill. He’s a danger to himself—.” 

“I’m not sick… Linda’s real, and she loves you. I don’t know why, but she does. You said you loved her more than any girl you’ve ever met, and you—. You said you’d always find your way back to her,” Bart explained. He leaned outside the car with his head between his knees and tears in his eyes. I wouldn’t see him again for two years.

[novacqnes]

✩ sore loser // vi

summary: with an undefeated streak of nine wins victory is sweet for pitfighter!vi, but losing can be even sweeter.

⋆ warnings: pitfighter!vi, brief mentions of blood, alcohol & violence, smut; oral, squirting & fingering [fem receiving], top!vi

⋆ pairing: vi x fem reader

⋆word count: 2.4k

⋆ a/n: stop the vi hate, she’s so hot and sexy and kind, i forbid it!

nails scraped feverishly against the scarred skin of vi’s arm. needy and sharp, they littered the rough surface, leaving behind deep pink crescents with each touch. back and forth, back and forth, they dug into her flesh almost mechanically as she remained fixed between your thighs. desperately bringing her tongue against your wet clit. she lapped up your fluids, allowing her soft lips to slide against your pussy effortlessly as you shook against her, fighting through a blurred haze. fiery tears crept from your eyes; one by one they surged forward, setting your cheeks aflame along with the rest of your body. it took everything—every last drop of unbearable desire and greed—to steal a glance at vi. 

slivers of jet black and red hairs clung to the crown of her forehead. her features were frozen; misty blue eyes caught on you. she wanted more, eager for it, as every aspect of your being entranced this woman. your taste lingered on her tongue as she sank back in for more, drawing desperate whines from your lips. your smell, sugary and thick, filled the room just the way she liked, overwhelming all her senses. or the way you moved against her, jerking your body with each flick of her tongue against your folds. down to the cries—your cries, which were lewd and slick, permeating the humid air around you. allowing her this small fragment in time where she could truly win.

her knees hit the ground first, a loud thud rang through your ears as vi sank onto the blood-stained concrete. her hands found their way there next, gripping onto the ground as they fought for an ounce of stability among the animalistic screams. they pierced the putrid air, trapping your body in the middle as hundreds of people pushed against you. they demanded she rise and fight for the very status that had left her undefeated for weeks, but she didn’t move. rather she pressed her eyes close, shutting out the light, her opponent’s bashed face, and any possible connection you may have had to her. her heart pounded against her chest, pleading with her to breathe, to no avail. 

a crushing weight pressed against vi’s chest, forcefully expelling the air from her body. every one of her muscles begged for her to stop. she slid forward, a gasp crawling up her lungs as a wave of agony consumed her. she could shrug off pain. she’d done it many times before, but each movement left her with that same dreadful sensation. her mind and body vied for two opposing sides, both resulting in her losing this match, yet she was relentless. her fingers scrapped the ground as she pulled herself up in one swift motion, violently suppressing the nerves that writhed in her stomach. once more, violet brought her arms to her side, guarding her face as she swung a bruised fist at her opponent. 

the white sheets felt damp in your palms, providing a gentle substitute for vi’s skin. in your hands it compressed, shrinking with each stroke of vi’s thumb against your clit. the pressure was light at first, growing more fervent by the second. she pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, her breath warm as she moved up hovering over your pussy. she lingered for a moment, teasing you with the slightest bit of contact before pulling away. tension bloomed at the pit of your stomach, taking hold of your hips and drawing you to vi’s mouth— begging her to come closer. your movements were shaky; you wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer, but vi had to let it. she gazed up at your body, a mumbling mess covered in a thin film of sweat at her efforts. it gave her satisfaction beyond any victory in the pit; this was just for her.

“fuck—t-there still may be a follow-up—you can try again,” you moaned, vi slipping a finger inside you. she curled them sharply as she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to yours. 

she began slow; you leaned into vi’s warmth, savoring the taste that lingered on her tongue. euphoric was an understatement. this was everything vi was lacking, splayed out across her flimsy mattress. there was something about your pleasure being in her hands that pulled the best from her—and it wasn’t a matter of control. whether it was you on that bed or her, vi adored the fact that it was with someone. her fights were isolating, in spite of the dozens of people that filled the pit each night. they weren’t fighting with her—but right here you were.

“they don’t wanna see me, sweetheart.”

“violet—“she spat against your core, moving down until her lips met your pussy. her tongue traced against your folds, flicking up and down as her index finger moved in and out. she soon slipped in a second, third, and fourth, sinking them inside your cunt at an unfathomable pace. her body showed no signs of slowing down. thick veins bulged from her forearm, and splotches of pink colored her cheeks, but she was on overdrive. determination clouded her senses, erasing any semblance of pain that arose in her. 

she muttered into you, “i’m good right here, just relax for me, yeah?” her voice was silky smooth, with sultry lined at the very top of it. she kept your legs open, solidifying her place between them as she hummed, furiously lapping at your clit. she smacked obnoxiously, pressing herself deeper and deeper into you until you had no choice but to make more room for her. and your hands acted first. they snaked their way around your hamstrings, forcing each leg to your sides as vi hummed in praise, sending a soft vibration up your core. 

the pleasure was beyond words, propelling you to an alternate realm as you pulsed around vi’s fingers, sucking them in with each charged stroke. she molded to you perfectly, pressing against the spongy tissue of your g-spot for as long as she could. it was evident; every fiber of her being was in this room, pushing you towards ecstasy. soon, black dots crept into your vision, distorting vi from your view, and before long your eyelids followed suit, shutting the rest of the room from you. 

“oh you’ve such pretty eyes, keep them here, right here,” she cooed. that fucking tone. so gentle and attentive it was nauseating. her gaze was unwavering; as if this wasn’t enough, she refused to look away from you, forcing your eyes to the glassy wetness smeared across her face. those eyes—they latched onto you, urging you to watch your girlfriend sink herself nose deep into you over and over again. the pressure magnified with each brush of vi’s lips against your clit. 

the words were trapped in your throat, “fuck vi—oh“ halting as you rapidly began to unravel. your gaze finally broke from hers, pulling your eyes to the feeble ceiling lights. a string of profanities fell from your lips as you shook against her mouth, surrendering to the adrenaline that mercilessly ripped through your body. 

“you don’t know what you do to me... so needy and beautiful. push yourself back on to me,” vi whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerously low octave. it sent a shiver up your spine, as the sensitivity followed. the pleasure bordered on overstimulation, but to say you wanted it to end would’ve been a lie. the sensations were purely addictive, bringing your body to her lips while in the same breath employing your hand to block her. making sense of it in the moment was nearly impossible thus, it took everything in you not to faint right then.

you gasped, “i-can’t—“

“move your hand y/n, let me hear it sweetheart.” 

vi’s brows furrowed slightly, dipping down as her eyes landed on your fingers, shakily obscuring her view. she watched as they moved mere inches, pausing at your lower stomach. she brought a hand to them, softly caressing your skin with her thumb, and carefully noting how you shuddered, whining at the slightest hint of contact. you were close, yes, but this couldn’t be rushed. 

vi moved from your legs, pressing her pink lips to your neck as she toyed with your clit, rubbing slow torturous circles into you. she kept a steady pace, not budging even when you grinded against her. rather she peppered your clavicle with kisses, running her tongue along the tender skin of your exposed neck. heat simmered at your cheeks, consuming the rest of your face as vi wielded your pleasure for her own satisfaction. every whine and gasp served to fuel what was left of her tattered ego. the control intoxicated her, restoring vi with a confidence that she hadn’t experienced since she set foot in the pit.

yet it was also about you—pleasing you—that drove violet insane. her body was quickly approaching its limit; it ached with dark purple bruises that covered her knees and fingers that were raw from the constant friction of bandages. vi adored this. she fell in love with the idea of giving every last bit of what she had to offer, and after her loss, she was destined to prove that even more. 

“holy shit,” you muttered, pressing your forehead against hers. desperation oozed from your voice as you cupped vi’s face in your palm. beyond your voice, the surrender was palpable. heavy eyelids shielded most of your eye, leaving visible only small glints of pigment. it grew increasingly difficult to focus on her but the same couldn’t be said for vi. she pushed the black strands from her face leaning against you as she picked up the pace. adding more and more pressure to the bundle of nerves—but it wasn’t enough. she would move her arm, delicately flexing the muscles in her forearm in restraint. her mouth would hover over your ear, teasing you with her tongue. she used it against you deliciously, following the long veins that trailed your neck until you were a whimpering mess. it was a tireless endeavor that vi trekked for hours. all of her efforts culminating in this one moment before ruining it all with a sudden halt. 

“vi please—“ 

she shook her head. “beg, baby.”

“please let me cum for you.” weakly you took her hands in yours, moving them from your clit, you slurred, “i wanna cum all over you.

she laid a soft kiss on your cheek, slipping her index back as you wrapped around her beautifully, blanketing her skin in a unique warmth that drew a gasp hum from vi’s lips. she curved them upward, meeting your g-spot once again. you shifted underneath her body, moaning into her ear completely unabashed. the anticipation reveled inside you with vi building on her speed. sweat dripped from her temples, sticking the dark black strands to her forehead. slowly, she came undone with you. her jagged breaths began to match yours, and her movements were growing more and more shallow.

streams of euphoria rifled through your body as the pit returned at the bottom of your stomach, paralyzing you from the waist down. torturously vi’s fingers met your g-spot, prodding and teasing the surface. your heart continued to race, beating out of your chest until it was the only thing that vi could hear; your moans slowly taking a backseat. limb by limb, the heat consumed you, leaving you victim to the overwhelming pleasure that began at your pussy, sending the rest of your body into a tailspin. 

she egged you on, “just like that, sweetheart, fuck, just like that." you could no longer make out vi’s beautiful face; the slight curve of her cheek was faint along with the rest of her features as you writhed against her. quickly losing control of the autonomy you once had. the pit within your stomach only sped up the process, bringing tears to your eyes as you cried, sinking your nails into the mattress. with one last thrust of vi’s finger, fluids rushed from your pussy, soaking the sheets underneath you in one swift motion. you were falling, silently surrendering to the emotions that took hold of your body. for that time, your body wasn’t entirely your own but a vehicle that only vi could steer. 

she took her place beside you, wrapping her arms around your waist as a pervasive silence fell upon the room. her hands soothingly rubbed the skin of your thigh, almost lulling you to sleep as the bright lights faded from view. you could feel her slowly succumbing to fatigue yet she moved closer, snuggling against your back. 

you tapped her arm, “hey, you did your best.”

“that’s what scares me,” she shrugged. there was always this slight divide between vi and what she did in the pit. you could see it. it was draining, extracting every bit of light from vi’s soul like an eternal vacuum. if anything, you were slightly grateful for this loss; it alleviated some of the pressure that burdened her, yet this wasn’t enough to put an end to it. truly the only person that could pry vi away from this place was herself. 

you turned to face her, “maybe that means it’s time to stop.” 

vi pressed her lips shut, her blue eyes briefly meeting the ceiling before falling back on you.

“if not, then you’ll probably lose again, which totally sucks but I’ll be here when you do,” you sighed. she allowed your hands to roam her sculpted arms. thumb tracing the ink etched into her tricep. uncertainty steadily filled the room as you both sat in silence, taking in the sight of one another. it offered you a slight glimmer of hope beyond the pit, a hope for a brighter future. one in which vi could simply be, without tirelessly fighting to prove her worth in every fight. she was worthy of love, and hopefully this moment of you two merely admiring each other was enough to begin that process. 

“i’ll make sure to lose each time then,” she chuckled, jumping up from the mattress. a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but you refrained from pointing it out, basking in the joy that settled over your girlfriend. it was small moments like these that made it all worth it. 

you began, “that’s not what i meant—“

“i’ll go check out that follow-up fight; you stay right here.”

[flwrkid14]

Bruce shares custody of Tim with Harley Quinn

Yeah, you read that right. Gotham’s broodiest billionaire vigilante and the queen of chaotic energy are co-parenting Tim Drake. And, somehow, that’s not even the weirdest thing that's happened to the bats this year.

Why? Two words: Joker Junior.

The details are locked down tighter than the Batcave, but here’s what everyone knows (or guesses): Joker broke Tim in ways none of them can fathom. He didn’t just try to kill him—he tried to make Tim like him. And while Tim clawed his way back from the brink, he didn’t do it alone. Harley was there.

She was part of the nightmare. And then, unexpectedly, she was part of the healing. She stepped in, helped Tim survive when Joker was doing his worst. When it was all over, when Joker was (temporarily) gone, she didn’t vanish into Gotham’s chaos. She stayed.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, Tim started calling her “Mom.”

And Bruce didn’t stop him.

Cue the Batfamily losing their collective minds.

Dick is pacing the Batcave, gesturing wildly. “Bruce, this is Harley Quinn we’re talking about! You don’t just co-parent with a rogue! There are laws against this! Or, like, there should be!”

Jason is sitting on the Batmobile, arms crossed, voice dripping with disbelief. “She’s literally a former rogue. She tried to kill you! Like, more than once. This is insane, even for you.”

Steph is perched on the edge of a desk, trying (and failing) not to laugh. “Okay, but, like, can you blame Tim? Harley does make amazing pancakes. Better than Alfred’s, honestly—”

A scandalized gasp echoes from the other side of the room.

Cass just watches quietly, her head tilted, but there’s a small, knowing smile on her face. She gets it. She’s seen the way Tim softens around Harley, how he relaxes in a way he doesn’t around anyone else.

Damian glares at Bruce like he’s lost his last shred of common sense. “Father, you have truly surpassed yourself. Allowing that woman into the sanctity of our home—”

Duke raises a hand cautiously. “Okay, but can we at least talk about how Tim basically has diplomatic immunity now? No rogue in Gotham is gonna mess with him. He’s Harley’s kid!”

And it’s true. Between Harley’s reputation and Poison Ivy stepping in as Tim’s unofficial stepmom (because of course she and Harley got back together), the rogues have adopted a weird kind of reverence for him. Tim’s no longer just a bat to them—he’s Harley’s kid.

Picture this: Tim’s out on patrol, and Riddler has the gall to interrupt with a riddle—only to end it with, “You’re sharper than I thought, kid. Guess Harley taught you well, huh?” before disappearing into the night.

Harley’s brand of parenting is chaotic but deeply personal. She knows Tim’s tells, the way his hands shake when he’s overwhelmed or the too-quiet moments when he’s retreating into himself. She’s the one who sits cross-legged on the floor with him, working on puzzles and cracking jokes until the tension lifts.

She carries extra band-aids in her purse because “Ya never know when a fight with some thug is gonna leave ya with a paper cut!” She also leaves sticky notes on his projects with scribbled messages like “You’re a genius, baby boy!” or “Don’t forget snacks!” They’re goofy, sure, but they make Tim smile when he needs it most. She keeps a stash of snacks in the Manor because Tim forgets to eat when he’s working. She shows up with pancakes at 3 a.m., douses everything in syrup, and calls him “baby boy” in that soft tone that makes Tim feel… safe.

Even Harley’s chaos has an odd kind of comfort to it. She’ll burst into the Manor unannounced, dragging Tim into impromptu “self-care parties” with face masks, bad rom-coms, and every flavor of ice cream imaginable. Somehow, it works.

Ivy, on the other hand, balances Harley’s energy with her own structured nurturing. She insists on “proper nutrition” and occasionally sends Tim home with meal prep containers filled with organic, eco-friendly food labeled things like “Stress-Busting Smoothie” or “Brain-Boosting Soup.” If Bruce raises an eyebrow at it, Ivy simply reminds him that “The human body can only fight crime properly with the right fuel, Bats.”

One time, she cornered Bruce in the greenhouse, pointing an accusatory finger. “If you send Tim out on patrol without a proper meal or at least six hours of sleep, I swear, Bruce, your rose garden is compost.”

And while Harley is the queen of hugs and chaos, Ivy is the one who sits with Tim on the porch at night, talking softly about resilience and regrowth, using plant metaphors Tim pretends not to understand but secretly finds comforting. Once, after a particularly bad night, she gifted him a small cactus with a note: “Even when it feels like the world is trying to tear you apart, you’re stronger than you think. Also, low maintenance, like you.”

Bruce knows the family doesn’t fully understand. But as he watches Harley teaching Tim how to make lasagna one night, the two of them laughing as the kitchen turns into a war zone of flour and tomato sauce, he doesn’t regret it.

Sometimes family doesn’t look like you think it will. Sometimes it’s stitched together from the most unexpected pieces.

And sometimes, it’s an ex-rogue, a traumatized teen, and a brooding billionaire all trying to figure out how to keep the lasagna from burning.

Welcome to Gotham.

[betrayalandbetrayed]

If anyone knows of a crack fic where Jason and Damian are fighting over who has the highest kill count, and it turns into this large thing with like a betting pool. So Oracle takes over and spends like a week determining exactly how many deaths each person has caused.

I think it went Steph and Duke at the bottom with 0, Cass with 1, Dick with 11, then Jason and Damian, and finally Tim in like the 10,000s.

It was funny as far as I remember

[nonranghaes]

there's a disturbance in the apartment, and it's enough to wake up seungcheol. you aren't in bed with him, which... okay, already bad when he's in a clingier mood, but there's something off about it all. he squints at his phone, slowly registering that it's almost ten in the morning. and immediately, he's throwing his blankets off, going to search for you. you turned off his alarms. no doubt because he doesn't have to work today. you're always (lovingly) nagging him about getting more sleep, the same thing he does to you, but that doesn't change anything--

the minute he opens the door, he figures out what's wrong. his roommates have you. jeonghan's got his phone in his hands, and joshua has an arm draped around your shoulders, and the three of you are laughing at something.

"really?" you gasp, "no!"

"yes!" jeonghan's laughing. "his hair used to look like that."

oh. fuck. hell. shit. seungcheol's already making his way over, nearly stumbling on his way out of his room. it's the opening that jeonghan needs to immediately jolt from his spot, phone clasped protectively in his grasp.

"what are you showing them?!" he barks as he walks past where joshua's cackling next to you. you catch him by the hand before he gets too far, and he lets you tether him to this spot as jeonghan cowers by the wall (and by 'cowers,' seungcheol means he's curled up and still laughing like the evil, evil man he is).

"nothing!"

seungcheol turns his focus onto joshua, who's already moving to leap over the back of the couch. he catches him by the back of his t-shirt, and it's like he's a cat with the way he pretty much turns to liquid to slip out of it. he apologizes to you as he bolts back to his own room, door slamming behind him, right as jeonghan's getting to his own.

with a sigh, seungcheol looks at you, joshua's shirt still in his hand. "well?"

you just grin at him, curling up on the couch. "... you look hot as a blonde."

oh. he's gonna kill them for dragging up his old, cringe-y college pictures. but first... maybe he should make an appointment with his hairdresser.

y'know. just to see if blonde does look good on him still.