#barbara barks

[barbarawolf]

I want to start off by saying this ISN'T an emergency, I'm mostly posting this for posterity's sake. This is mainly a Kofi for my content on my youtube page, but it has a goal currently up for donations to help me gear up for a voice feminization surgery. As I am still working out citizenship, it's to find financial security and while I'm solid to the point where I won't go hungry in the foreseeable future, my husband and I's funds are lower than this surgery would probably allow and saving is difficult.

Any donations are extremely appreciated, and any sharing is extremely appreciated as well!

[gameofthunder66]

Dune: Prophecy (2024- ) tv series

-(started) watchin' Season 1- 12/20/2024- on Max

70% Rotten Tomatoes

[nathalieskinoblog]

[abbysbicepsss]

I change my mind ab which Ellie era is my fav every single day

[rowavolo]

FINALLY FIGURING OUT A GOOD SHIP NAME FOR AN AU .. LETS GO ...

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage

The thing is, Tim didn't mean to put it on. He was just kind of playing with it to keep his hands busy while he was thinking about the recent murder case. GCPD had their hands full with the serial robbers that didn't rank high enough to catch Batman's attention, and Tim never had a problem with helping the police if he had time.

And the ring was a perfect fidget toy, if he is being honest. Small and plain enough not to distract him, but the round stone in the middle was loosely attached, making it able to spin inside the frame. Which is what he did, again and again, like those fidget spinners.

Of course, he was just destined to drop it sooner or later. And then, when he reached under the table to pick it up, his finger caught inside the ring, and, well.

The ring was now firmly on his finger.

The problem was that he couldn't take it off.

It wasn't stuck, at least not in the general sense of it - Tim could easily spin it around, and it wasn't tight. But it wasn't loose either, and as soon as he tried to move it past the knuckle, the ring heavily disagreed, almost like shrinking down and absolutely refusing to be detached.

Barbara suggested soap, which didn't work. Dick tried for a more mechanical approach, first with pliers and then with a laser, which the ring resisted with no effort. Cass, who was actually the one who brought the damned thing into the Cave after one of her adventures in Hong Kong, just smiled and shrugged, which was of no help either. Damian offered to cut the finger off, which probably would have helped, but Tim rather liked all his limbs attached.

Bruce called Constantine. The magician took one look at the ring, barked a humorless laugh, and pat Tim on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Congrats, mate," he said, a wry smile on his lips, "I hope you file for divorce."

Although, while all the rest of the Bats and Birds devolved into fits of hysterical laughter (Steph), indignant sputtering (Damian), and cries of outrage (everyone else sans Alfred, who was pointedly unimpressed), Tim couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. Really, his life had been a shitshow since he was around ten. It's not like he didn't expect himself to be accidentally married to some otherworldly magical creature by this point.

The worst part - worse than the actual engagement, that is - was that Constantine couldn't exactly tell them who the spouse was.

What he did say was that the Ring belonged to the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, and Eyes of Universe. But those were only titles, and, as John Constantine begrudgingly admitted, there has been a change in the management recently, so no one really knew what the new almighty monarch looked like or what they were, much less their whereabouts.

"You can't blame me for not being keen to find out, though," John said, wincing, "The last one was a bloody tyrant, and the Realms operate under the right of conquest rule."

At least, the mage assured them that since the being had not yet come to collect their shiny new spouse, they might never show up at all. The Ring has been lost for ages after all, so maybe the King didn't even remember having one. Or, the previous King didn't, and the new one didn't know about or didn't care.

The first week after the incident, they spent anxiously researching and worrying. Bruce even went as far as making Tim wear a tracker at all times, which was not great, but he did appreciate the gesture. Kind of.

After the first month with no sign of any changes, the worry started to abate. In half a year, most of the family stopped trying to keep an eye on Tim at all times lest he suddenly disappeared. Two years later, even Tim himself treated the Ring as a natural part of his daily life. The stone inside was still a great fidget toy, engagement or not.

Three years, one month, and five days after Tim first put the Ring on his finger, when the world was falling apart and breaking in front of him and there was not a single thing he could do to stop it anymore, Tim pressed his lips to the cold, dark strip of unknown metal on his finger.

"Whoever you are, I don't even care, please," he whispered in a useless prayer, his voice hoarse and his throat dry, "please, help."

And the world came to a stop with a short, amused chuckle.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

[part 2 ->]

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Family x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (aged up), Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Selina Kyle & Kate Kane

Jason Todd aka. Red Hood

- You never imagined how someone like Jason Todd could hold himself with such a dangerous blend of confidence and recklessness. He walks like he owns every inch of ground he treads, his leather jacket slung over his shoulders, the red of his helmet tucked under his arm. You don’t know what possesses you when you walk past him, catching a glimpse of his lean frame and the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. Maybe it’s the sheer magnetism he exudes, or maybe you just can’t help yourself. Your hand reaches out, and you deliver a sharp, playful smack to his rear as you stride by.

- Jason freezes mid-step, his body going rigid for a split second before he turns to face you, an incredulous look spreading across his face. “Did you just—” he begins, his voice caught somewhere between outrage and amusement. But then that signature smirk of his grows wider, sharper, and his blue eyes gleam with a dangerous, playful edge. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he teases, advancing toward you with a slow, deliberate menace that’s all bark and no real bite. You laugh, the sound light and carefree, because you know Jason’s ire is more for show than anything else.

- He catches you around the waist, pulling you into his arms with ease, the leather of his jacket brushing against your skin. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his lips ghost over your ear. “But you’re not getting away with it.” There’s an edge of fondness in his tone, a warmth that softens his usual bravado. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, may wear his scars like armor, but when he’s with you, he’s softer, more human. You bring out a side of him that no one else gets to see, and he revels in the feeling of being seen by you, flaws and all.

- Later, as you sit curled up on the couch together, his hand resting casually on your thigh, he leans over and murmurs, “Next time, warn me before you do something like that. I might just enjoy it a little too much.” He grins at your surprised expression, his laughter rich and unrestrained. Jason Todd is a man of contradictions—gritty and rough around the edges, yet tender and fiercely loyal to those he loves. And in that moment, as he looks at you like you hung the moon, you know you’ll always be the exception to his every rule.

Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing

- It’s hard not to admire Dick Grayson as he moves with a fluid grace that’s almost otherworldly, every step a testament to his years as an acrobat. He’s the kind of man who lights up a room without even trying, his smile warm enough to melt the iciest of hearts. As he passes by you, his toned physique impossible to ignore, you act on a mischievous whim. Your hand darts out, delivering a quick slap to his behind, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet space.

- Dick stops in his tracks, his back straightening as he turns to face you, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “Did you really just do that?” he asks, his tone playful as he raises an eyebrow at you. But the corners of his lips are already twitching upward, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter. “You know I have a reputation to maintain, right? What if someone saw?” His words are teasing, but there’s no mistaking the delight in his voice.

- He crosses the room in a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms with that effortless charm of his. “You’re lucky you’re adorable,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His hands settle on your hips, his touch warm and grounding as he looks at you with a fondness that makes your heart skip a beat. Dick Grayson has always been a people person, someone who gives his all to everyone he meets, but with you, it’s different. With you, he lets his guard down completely, his love unfiltered and true.

- Later, as the two of you sit on the rooftop, the city sprawled out before you, he leans back on his hands and chuckles. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” he says, glancing over at you with a grin that’s equal parts exasperated and enamored. “But I love it. I love you.” In that moment, with the stars above and his hand brushing against yours, you realize that Dick’s love is the kind that makes you feel like you’re flying, weightless and free.

Tim Drake aka. Red Robin

- Tim Drake has always been the picture of focus and determination, his mind a labyrinth of strategies and contingencies. He’s the kind of man who gets lost in his work, his attention consumed by the mysteries he seeks to unravel. But as he walks past you, his nose buried in a tablet, you decide to do something to pull him out of his reverie. With a playful grin, you reach out and smack his rear, the sound sharp and unmistakable.

- Tim freezes, his eyes widening as he processes what just happened. Slowly, he turns to face you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Did you just…?” he begins, his voice faltering as he searches for the right words. He’s flustered, his usual composure slipping as he stares at you, half-amused and half-embarrassed. “I didn’t see that coming,” he admits, a small, awkward laugh escaping him. For someone so perceptive, you’ve managed to catch him completely off-guard.

- He sets his tablet down, his curiosity piqued as he steps closer to you. “Care to explain yourself?” he asks, his tone light and teasing as he folds his arms across his chest. But there’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet affection that belies his playful demeanor. Tim isn’t one to let his guard down easily, but with you, he doesn’t have to try. You bring a sense of ease to his life, a warmth that balances out the weight of his responsibilities.

- Later, as he sits beside you on the couch, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, he glances at you and smiles. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his voice filled with admiration. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tim Drake may be the genius detective, always one step ahead of everyone else, but with you, he’s just Tim—a man who’s hopelessly in love with the person who keeps him on his toes.

Damian Wayne aka. Robin (Aged up)

- Damian Wayne walks with the confidence of someone who’s spent his entire life being told he’s destined for greatness. There’s a regal air about him, a sharpness in his gaze that makes people think twice before crossing him. But as he passes by you, his posture impeccable and his expression carefully composed, you decide to test the waters of his stoic exterior. Your hand darts out, delivering a swift smack to his rear.

- He stops abruptly, his head snapping around to look at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Did you just…” he starts, his voice laced with both outrage and confusion. For a moment, he seems utterly at a loss, his usual composure shattered by your unexpected audacity. But then his lips press into a thin line, and he narrows his eyes at you. “You’re insufferable,” he declares, though the faint pink tinting his cheeks betrays his embarrassment.

- Damian steps closer to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he fixes you with a glare that’s more bluster than anything else. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?” he demands, his tone sharp. But there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a warmth that he can’t quite hide. Damian may be the heir to the League of Assassins, but with you, he’s just a young man learning how to navigate the complexities of love and vulnerability.

- Later, as the two of you spar in the training room, he catches your wrist mid-strike, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re infuriating,” he says, his voice low and almost fond. “But I suppose I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Damian Wayne may be a warrior at heart, but when he’s with you, he allows himself to be just Damian—a boy who’s discovering that love is the greatest strength of all.

Barbara Gordon aka. Oracle / Batgirl

- Barbara Gordon is a force to be reckoned with, her mind as sharp as her combat skills. She moves with a quiet confidence, her every action deliberate and precise. As she walks past you, her auburn hair catching the light, you feel a sudden surge of mischief. Before you can think twice, your hand reaches out, delivering a playful smack to her rear.

- She stops mid-stride, her head tilting to the side as she turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Really?” she says, her tone dripping with amusement. There’s a playful glint in her green eyes, and you can tell she’s already plotting her revenge. Barbara is nothing if not quick on her feet, and you know she won’t let you off the hook easily. “You realize you’ve just declared war, right?” she teases, a sly smile spreading across her face.

- Barbara steps closer, her hands resting on her hips as she looks you up and down, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to play innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she says, her voice warm and affectionate despite her mock-annoyance. With you, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let go of the weight of being both Oracle and Batgirl. You remind her that it’s okay to laugh, to let her guard down, and to simply be herself.

- Later, as the two of you sit in front of her computer, the glow of the screens casting a soft light over her features, she leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re impossible,” she murmurs, her voice filled with affection. “But you keep things interesting.” Barbara Gordon may be a genius, a fighter, and a hero, but with you, she’s just Barbara—a woman who’s found someone who makes her feel alive in a way she never thought possible.

Stephanie Brown aka. Spoiler

- Stephanie Brown has always been a whirlwind of energy and determination, her spirit unrelenting even in the face of impossible odds. She walks past you with that carefree confidence she wears like armor, her blonde hair bouncing with every step. You can’t help but admire the way she carries herself, equal parts stubborn and radiant. Acting on impulse, you reach out and give her a playful smack on the rear as she strides by.

- She stops dead in her tracks, her head whipping around to face you. “Excuse me?” she exclaims, her voice full of mock indignation, though the corners of her lips are already curling into a mischievous smile. “Did you just Spank the Spoiler?” she asks, emphasizing her vigilante codename with a dramatic flair. Stephanie has never been one to take herself too seriously, and you can see the spark of amusement in her bright eyes as she folds her arms, pretending to be offended.

- In a flash, she’s back at your side, poking you in the ribs as she laughs. “Oh, you’re so in trouble now,” she teases, her voice light and full of affection. There’s something infectious about her laughter, a sound that seems to chase away the shadows in your life. Stephanie Brown is a fighter, yes, but she’s also someone who finds joy even in the smallest, silliest moments. She loves fiercely, and her heart is as big as her grin.

- Later, as you both sit on the couch sharing popcorn and bad movies, she nudges your shoulder and gives you a cheeky grin. “Next time, maybe warn me,” she says, her tone teasing. “Or don’t. I kind of like being caught off guard.” Stephanie leans against you, her warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. With her, life is always an adventure—messy, unpredictable, and full of laughter.

Cassandra Cain aka. Orphan

- Cassandra Cain moves like a shadow, her every step silent and purposeful. She walks past you with a grace that’s almost hypnotic, her petite frame radiating a quiet strength. You’ve always admired her discipline, her ability to say so much without uttering a single word. But today, you decide to shake up her composure. As she walks by, you reach out and deliver a playful smack to her rear, the sound breaking the otherwise tranquil air.

- Cassandra stops, her body going still as a statue. Slowly, she turns her head to look at you, her dark eyes wide with surprise. She blinks, clearly unsure of how to process what just happened. Then, to your delight, the faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips—a rare and precious expression that feels like a reward in itself. “Why?” she asks simply, her voice soft but curious. It’s not anger or embarrassment, just genuine intrigue.

- You shrug, offering her a cheeky grin. “Because I couldn’t resist,” you reply, watching as her smile grows just a little wider. Cassandra doesn’t say much, but the way she steps closer, her hand brushing yours, says everything. She’s always been more comfortable expressing herself through action, and with you, she doesn’t need words to show her affection. Her trust in you is absolute, her love quiet but deeply felt.

- Later, as you sit together on the floor, her head resting on your shoulder while you read, she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “You surprise me,” she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. “It’s good.” Cassandra Cain may be the most skilled fighter you’ve ever met, but in your arms, she’s just Cass—a woman who’s learning to embrace the lighter, softer side of life.

Duke Thomas aka. Signal

- Duke Thomas strides through life with an easy confidence, his optimism shining as brightly as the sunlight he manipulates. He walks past you with a casual swagger, his golden-brown eyes warm and inviting. As he passes by, you can’t help but admire the way he carries himself—steady, resilient, and undeniably charming. Acting on a whim, you reach out and smack his rear, the playful gesture a stark contrast to his calm demeanor.

- Duke pauses, his head turning as a look of amused disbelief spreads across his face. “Really?” he says, raising an eyebrow as a slow grin tugs at his lips. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” There’s no annoyance in his tone, just pure, unfiltered amusement. Duke has always been good at rolling with life’s surprises, and this one is no exception. He steps closer to you, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

- You laugh, and the sound makes his grin widen. Duke’s hand rests lightly on your hip as he leans in, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “You know, you’re going to pay for that, right?” he teases, his tone laced with affection. With you, Duke’s natural warmth grows even brighter, his easygoing nature making every moment with him feel effortless and fun. He’s the kind of man who makes you feel like the center of his world without even trying.

- Later, as the two of you watch the sunset from the rooftop, he nudges you gently with his shoulder. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his tone soft and sincere. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.” Duke Thomas is a beacon of light in a world full of shadows, and with you by his side, his glow only grows stronger.

Selina Kyle aka. Catwoman

- Selina Kyle is the embodiment of elegance and mischief, her every move a calculated blend of grace and seduction. She walks past you with the confidence of a queen, her hips swaying in a way that’s almost hypnotic. You can’t resist the temptation she so effortlessly exudes, and before you can think better of it, your hand darts out to smack her rear as she passes by.

- She stops, one perfectly manicured hand resting on her hip as she turns to face you, a single eyebrow arched. “Oh, darling,” she purrs, her voice smooth as silk, “you’re playing a dangerous game.” There’s no anger in her tone, only amusement, her green eyes gleaming with a predatory kind of delight. Selina loves a good challenge, and you’ve just given her the perfect excuse to turn the tables.

- She closes the distance between you in a few fluid steps, her fingers trailing lightly along your jaw as she tilts your face up to meet her gaze. “Careful,” she whispers, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I might just decide to return the favor.” Selina Kyle is a master of control, but with you, she’s willing to let go of the reins—just a little. She loves the way you keep her on her toes, the way you’re unafraid to meet her at her level.

- Later, as the two of you lounge on the balcony, the city lights twinkling below, she leans against you, her head resting on your shoulder. “You’re lucky I like you,” she says with a soft laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. Selina Kyle may be the infamous Catwoman, a thief who’s always one step ahead, but with you, she’s just Selina—a woman who’s found someone who can keep up with her.

Kate Kane aka. Batwoman

- Kate Kane walks with the authority of someone who’s seen it all and refuses to back down. Her stride is purposeful, her crimson hair a striking contrast against the stark black of her attire. As she passes by, her no-nonsense demeanor is enough to make most people think twice about approaching her. But not you. With a playful grin, you reach out and smack her rear, the sound sharp and deliberate.

- She stops in her tracks, her head turning slowly as she fixes you with a piercing gaze. “Really?” she asks, her tone dry but laced with amusement. “That’s how you want to play this?” There’s no real annoyance in her voice, just a hint of disbelief mixed with a begrudging smile. Kate Kane doesn’t do surprises often, but you’ve managed to catch her off guard in the best way possible.

- She steps closer, her arms crossed as she looks you up and down, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to play innocent. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she says, her voice low and teasing. But there’s a warmth in her eyes, a softness she reserves only for you. Kate may be tough as nails, but with you, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let down the walls she’s spent years building.

- Later, as the two of you sit by the fire with glasses of whiskey in hand, she leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, though there’s no mistaking the affection in her voice. Kate Kane may be Batwoman, a hero who stands alone in the darkest of nights, but with you, she’s just Kate—a woman who’s found a love worth fighting for.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny & Barbara, Cyan, The neighbor's lawnmower at 7 @amcannedinternets

Barbara scanned the computer area, making sure everything was in order. It’s amazing how many times patrons unplugged something on the library computers. Everything seemed normal, down to the usual occupant on the end computer. He was looking through one of the many books in front of him at the moment, but turned to squint at the screen. Frowning he went back to the book before making a note on the battered black and green composition notebook he had.

It wasn’t unusual for the kid. He was in the library almost every day that they were open. Engineering, sciences, politics, spiritual— the kid went through it all. Babs had to figure that he was going through his gen eds in college and maybe home wasn’t the best place to work. Or at least, she hope that was the case because he was on the very young side for college and sometimes didn’t look great. Today bandages almost covered his fingers and the bags under his eyes would make a raccoon jealous.

Babs rolled over, stopping near his desk. “You look like death today, Danny.”

He covered a bark of laughter before coving it up quickly with his hand. “Sorry. Um, inside joke? I’m fine. I’m just… tired.”

Babs raised one perfectly sculpted brow at that (a move she had learned from Alfred).

Danny folded, shoulders sagging. “Maybe just a bad pain day too. It’s… it’s nothing, it’s just my life, you know?”

“I do know,” Babs said gently.

“Yeah, I guessed you might,” Danny said with a melancholy little smile.

“Tell you what,” Babs said. “I’m going to get myself a coffee and I’ll bring you one too. You can’t drink it here, but just join me at the reference desk, okay?”

Danny smile turned a little less sad. “That sounds great, thanks.”

Babs smiled back before she headed off. She couldn’t do anything about Danny’s pain, but she could at least try to make his day a little better.

(Feel free to continue if you want!)

[incorrectbatfam]

What would it look like if the batfam ran a restaurant? Who does what?

Dick: the live entertainment, which is something between music, comedy, and drag

Jason: the bartender because he knows his drinks and, more importantly, when to cut people off

Tim: the finance guy in drowning in receipts because people can't be bothered to add their own tips

Damian: what's a family business without the owner's 12-year-old son doing his homework in the back

Duke: don't ask him what the specials are, there's a good chance he forgot

Cullen: the customer who's there so often he's on a nickname basis with everyone else

Stephanie: the rollerskating waitress balancing 8 hot plates on her arms and smiling through gritted teeth

Cassandra: the hostess who sits people she doesn't like by the bathrooms

Barbara: the pastry chef who actually knows the difference between macaroons and macarons

Harper: the dishwasher who basically fills the whole kitchen in a cloud of steam

Carrie: they legally can't make her do anything except wipe down the menus

Kate: the employee who comes in to eat on her off days just to be smug about it

Alfred: the executive chef barking orders at everyone and micro-analyzing every crumb

Selina: the sous chef who is actually able to keep up with Alfred's commands

Bruce: the owner who denies allegations of nepotism despite the entire staff calling him dad

[barbarawolf]

Can people please please please please please tag their funny spider/bug video please christ on a cross. I can't do anything beyond blocking every tag I can think of and boom hi there's a spider in my face, boom there's a cockroach. Hey here's a close up on bedbugs, why not!!!! Here's a mass of bees writhing on someone!!!!!! It's great that you love them, I'm so genuinely happy that you love them someone needs to, but it can't be me. I have a disorder that rules my life that makes it so it can't be me. Maybe some time later with help, but right now it puts me in a borderline psychosis seeing it. It's not your fault, it's not their fault, it's not my fault, it's just something that takes hours out of my day worrying that could just be solved by a #bug. Just a lil #bug is all I'm asking. Some #bug action.

Thank you,

Pleasedontbemad

[makethatelevenrings]

Skeletons in the Closet // D. Grayson x gn!reader

Requested? Yep!

Warnings: reader is followed home at night!!! if anyone ever follows you home, you have my consent to beat the everloving shit out of them!!!! your life is far more valuable to a fucking creeps!!!

Summary: While being followed home after work, you get a call from your boyfriend. He sends in some help from a friend. Things are realized.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck fuck.

With your keys clutched tightly between your thumb and palm and your pepper spray poking out from your grip, you hurried down the street with your heart racing faster each step. Another glance over your shoulder confirmed it. You were being followed.

You had to stay late at work because two of your coworkers had the flu and this was the punishment you got for trying to be nice. Fuck this. Fuck capitalism. Fuck the world and having to be scared walking to your fucking apartment.

And just your luck, the red line stop near your apartment was closed for repairs to the platform structure so that meant you had to walk an extra four blocks to get home. Fuck.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden jolt to your system. With shaking hands you swiped your thumb across the screen and pressed it against your cheek as you kept walking.

“Hello?” You really hoped that the person on the other line couldn’t hear the pure, visceral fear in your voice but you doubted it.

“Hey. I was just calling because you never texted that you left work or got home.” Oh. Right. Your boyfriend of three months, Dick Grayson, was a perfect gentleman and he always appreciated a text from you when you got home at night, whether it was from work or a night out with friends. He didn’t care if you were out late partying. He just wanted to make sure you were home safe at the end of the night.

“Right, shit. Sorry. I just got out of work a half hour ago and…” You glanced back at the guy following you and dropped your voice. “Someone’s following me. I’m about ten minutes max away from my apartment and I’ve got pepper spray, but you should know that I-”

“Where are you?” His voice had grown frigid in the time you were rambling and you peered up at the street sign you just passed.

“Avalon and Fifth.”

Dick inhaled deeply and then said something away from the phone, as though he was talking to someone in the background. He moved back closer to the phone and started talking quickly.

“Okay, baby, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to put my friend on the line and she’s going to keep talking to you, okay? And in the meantime, I have another friend in the area and he’s going to come meet you. Keep walking towards your place. Don’t stop moving. Barbara will talk you through it.”

The line clicked before you could say anything and then a calm, pleasant voice filled your ear. “Hi, I’m Barbara. Dick’s told me a lot about you. Did you know he’s kind of obsessed with you?”

The sudden levity of the question elicited a laugh from you as you hurried down the darkened street. You could hear the footsteps getting closer and it made your throat close with anxiety.

“Hey Barbara, what’s going to happen?” you asked quietly.

“Don’t you worry about that. Just keep walking. You’re doing fine. Why did you stay late at work?”

“My coworkers are sick. Flu season and all that.”

“Hmmm, viruses are a bitch.” There was something in her voice that indicated more to her comment than you knew, but you didn’t have time to pry. The closer you got to an ally, the faster the steps sounded until the guy was full on sprinting towards you.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you turned to watch him barrel at you. Before he could get within three feet of you, a blur of black and blue swung down from seemingly nowhere and then Nightwing was standing over him, escrima sticks clutched tightly in his hands.

“Go,” the vigilante barked. He looked back at you and what a sight you probably made. Shaking, phone pressed to cheek and other hand gripping keys and pepper spray, and what felt like tears streaming down your cheeks, you stared back at the mask covered eyes. His chin dipped and you realized that he was inspecting you for some kind of injury. Nightwing raised his head to stare at you once more and then he jutted his chin out towards you in a silent command. The silvery white scar on his lower jar stood out under the light of the street lamps.

“Go,” he repeated. The man below him tried to sit up and the vigilante snapped one of his bludgeons down onto the man’s arm with a sickening crack, eliciting a scream from the man. You almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

You didn’t need another prompting and instead you turned, tucked tail, and sprinted the rest of the way home. You nearly forgot that Barbara was on the other end of the phone until you heard her call your name.

“I’m…I’m okay. I think. I…I’m okay.” Your hands shook so hard as you tried to unlock the door to your apartment that your dropped your keys and cursed under your breath. Scooping them up once more, you tried again and flew into your apartment.

“I’m home. Door’s locked. I’m fine. I…fucking hell. What just happened?”

“Hey, hey,” Barbara said. “Breathe with me, okay? That was a scary situation. Breathe. In two, out three. There we go.”

The fragments and pieces of your scattered brain started to knit an image together of what just happened. As the adrenaline receded, you were able to try and come to terms with the events of that night and one thing stood out to you.

The scar on his chin.

Nightwing’s.

The same scar that you pressed a kiss to in thanks for coffee. The same scar you made sure to pepper with kisses when your boyfriend curled around you and fell asleep against your chest. The same scar that you looked up at when he pulled sweet moans out of your lungs.

“I’m going to kill him,” you hissed.

Barbara barked out a laugh. “Please make sure to film it for me.”

“Oh, I will.” You tossed your keys and pepper spray onto the table just as a shadow passed over the window of your living room. “It’s been nice meeting you, Barbara, but I have to go strangle someone.”

“I’m going to put your number in my phone and we will be getting coffee soon.” You gave her a final goodbye and then stalked towards the window. Your phone tumbled onto the plush cushions of the couch as you passed. Yanking open the window, you stuck your head out and glared at the vigilante standing on the far end of your fire escape.

“So this is why you always make an excuse to not stay the night,” you snapped. Anxiety had turned to rage real quick. Nightwing grimaced and raised his gloved hand to run his fingers through his hair. It was then that you saw the fresh blood that mottled his knuckles and you knew exactly where it came from.

“And also why I make sure you get home at night,” he added quietly. You crooked your finger at him and he complied wordlessly. His footsteps were nearly silent on the old fire escape and you took a moment to marvel at how such a muscular man was able to move so quickly and quietly.

“Is this it? Any more skeletons in your closet?” you asked.

“You know about my family, so no. No more skeletons.”

“I’m going to ask Barbara when we go and get coffee,” you breathed against his lips. Dick paled slightly before he cleared his throat.

“That’s fair.”

“Now get in here and get that suit off. I’m still mad at you but I could really do with a hug right now.”

He didn’t protest.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[spectr3inl0ve]

we cry together is so toxic relationship with dick grayson coded

ESPECIALLY VERSE 2!!!!! (I skipped some lines to fit the story and changed a few words to better fit dick's character </3) also this specific dick is gonna be known as "toxic relationship!dick grayson" (tags)

tw: arguments, toxic relationship, on again off again relationship vibes, allusions to dick cheating on reader with babs

It was inevitable that the two of you would get into another argument - about her. Barbara Gordon. The beautiful, fit, intelligent and witty daughter of the police commissioner James Gordon. Fuck, you were jealous of her. Of what she meant to Dick. You knew that they were a thing before the two of you got together, and yet almost every time he bailed on you it was to see Barbara.

"R/n I swear that there's nothing on between us. It's just work and friendship. I wouldn't do that to you." Dick tries to reason with you, albeit angrily.

"Oh really? Cus I know for a fact that you've cheated on someone with that redheaded hoe!" You hiss, your hands on the island bench as you stare into the guilty eyes of the man before you, your keys resting a few inches from you. He throws his hands up and shakes his head in disbelief. As if he didn't do exactly that to Kori.

"For God's sake, why are you making this so difficult? All we're doing is working. On. A. Case. What don't you understand about that?" Dick annunciate the last part in a slow, firm voice, reminiscent of the voice that one would use to talk to a misbehaving toddler.

"Nah, you're just a lil dick-ass slut that's tryna go big. Tryna make a name for yourself as Gotham's resident whore or what?" with a mirthless chuckle, you use your hands to gesture.

Dick's annoyingly perfect eyebrows furrow, and he smirks, "But you were suckin' this dick though.". This comment throws you off momentarily, but you quickly clap back.

"Well, shit, I shoulda sucked his." who's cock you were referring to? You don't know, and it didn't matter. What mattered right now was pissing Dick off to the point that he'd apologise and to promise to never see Barbara without anyone else present.

This wiped the smirk off of Dick's face immediately, the sudden change was hilarious. If you weren't so infuriated, you would've laughed in his stupid stunned face. "What? Fuckin' repeat what you said."

"I shoulda found a bigger dick." you make sure to punctuate each word with a crisp, satisfying clap, astounding your boyfriend even more. His expression quickly turns sour and bitter.

"What? You mad? Because you can go text that raggedy bitch and tell her you all that she got." You gloat, pointing at the phone in his left hand. With a huff, Dick quickly snatches up your car keys, moving towards the living room to inevitably get away from you. Fuck, you still need to get to work.

"Dick, give me my keys, Imma be late for work." with furrowed eyebrows you follow him, where he stops near the coffee table, arms crossed.

"Fuck your job, today's gonna be the day you walk to that bitch." he scowls, eyes narrowed as he glares at you, giving a quick glance at the clock. 7:58 AM.

You sigh inwardly, pinching your eyebrows, "I need to leave at 8, give me my keys, bro." and the devil that is Dick Grayson lets out a bark of laughter.

"On God, you aren't getting these keys." He raises the keys out of your reach when you make a grab for them, leaving you to accidentally swipe at his upper arm.

"Give me my fucking keys!" You yell, fruitlessly trying to reach for your keys again, to which Dick laughs at again.

"Ah, now you mad at me, I got you hollerin' for nothin'."

"I do the same when we fuckin'."

"Acting like that pussy ain't loose."

"I'd rather act like I'm cummin'."

"I'd rather fuck off that juice."

"I'd rather fuck on your brother."

Dick was about to retort back but he paused. Wait, what? "Bitch, you said you're gonna fuck who?" he hisses, an ugly frown adorning his face and his breath heavy. At this point his arms are folded again, your keys tucked into a large hand.

A bitter smirk on your face, you reply, "You heard me, bitch, it's nothing.". Your heart is racing, was that too far? Definitely, but if it makes him feel even a fraction of how you feel when he's with Babs, then it's worth it.

Dick carelessly chucks your car keys onto the coffee table behind him, stalking backing you into the couch as he stares you down. Fuck, you're in for it now. You're forced to sit, with how in your face he is and you cross your own arms. Two can play that game. You glower up at him, daring him to say or do something.

"That better be nothing. No one knows you better than I do. No one." he scowls, moving a hand to cup your cheek.

[nathalieskinoblog]

The Christmas Candle - Das Licht der Weihnacht

Erscheinungsjahr 2013

104 min

Regie: John Stephenson

Darsteller: Hans Matheson, Samantha Barks, John Hannah, Susan Boyle, James Cosmo, Lesley Manville, Barbara Flynn

[glitter-stained]

What your favourite batfam member (of the ones I know enough about) says about you- a 100% accurate list of logical conclusions that are true about everyone.

(Those are not assumptions, just cold-hard logic based on what is appealing about each of the batfam members.)

> Alfred: One time in a shop, you picked up a holiday decoration, one of those bright red and gold shimmery ornaments they hang on Christmas trees, and it was so simple and beautiful your throat clogged up with grief over something you could not name and you were tempted to crack it open like an egg. You didn't.

> Kate: The other night, you were at the park, and it was that time of the evening where the cold breeze picks up just a little and breathing just a little raw, and there was a woman standing under a street lamp with a long black coat and she was smoking a cigarette and she took a deep breath and exhaled a cloud of smoke and the lamplight went out and you watched the woman disappear.

> Bruce: At the nearest comic store next to you, there's a young woman behind the counter who chews bubblegum and has a pink strip in her hair. She knows every issue you will think of and can navigate the obscure sorting system of the shop in her sleep. Sometimes, on the weekends, there's a little kid in a big scarf that will huddle in a corner of the shop and read comics, and she will not say anything about him, and neither will you.

>Barbara: At your local library, the books are organized along the official system, but you can tell this change was recent, due to the faded book tags on the spines. Very often, people will leave their bookmarks in the books: elegant, woven lace or printed leather ones, painted ones homemade with care and watercolours, practical ones that double as a ruler, thematic ones from books or shows or favourite bands, the ones with the holographic animal pictures... The librarians know this. They leave them in the books like a little treasure hunt.

> Dick: You were a little kid, eating cereal in the morning before your parents were awake, watching cartoons with the volume on low. Your favourite cartoon came up and you hummed the theme song under your breath, careful not to wake anybody up. It was a Saturday, no school today. You were wearing your favourite pyjama.

> Cass: When you were ten years old, you would crouching over a tree root in a corner at recess, watching a little colony of firebugs travel in line out of the tree trunk. You took a little bramble and held it in their way, just to see what would happen, if they would climb on it instead. They walked around it and carried one their way; you didn't insist. Nearby on the ground, you found a beautiful marble.

> Steph: Seven months before you were born, your mother was walking down the street to get some last minute work groceries, when she took a wrong turn and ended up staring at a tv screen from inside a shop, and she couldn't hear the noise but something in the image petrified her, mouth open in awe, blue light reflecting in her eye with the empty grocery bags hanging limp in her hands.

> Jason: Your neighbour has a dog. Though you've never seen it, you can hear it barking and whining from behind the wall. When it gets cold, you blow in your hands and rub them together, and the air you breathe out swirls up in a little cloud. Something you stand on the side of the road for a little too long and that old lady sitting at the bus stop looks at you with concern. It's going to snow soon.

> Tim: On your birthday this year, a group of old ladies gathered together to discuss the important events of this month. One of them made tea and offered it to the others; the whistling of the kettle and the chiming of cups and little spoons sign the beginning of this ritual like the ringing of church bells. They didn't know that this was your birthday. If they knew, maybe they would have whispered about it amongst eachother - "didn't you hear? This one's one year older, just today. My, my, how time flies."

> Duke: One time you and your friends were swimming in the lake and your fiend's necklace slipped out. You dove under the surface and opened your eyes to find it, and came face to face with a fish that swam away the moment that you blinked. You're not that good at holding your breath, but your friend really cared about that necklace, so you swam deeper and eventually you saw it, slowly sinking between dead water flowers floating around like algae. You picked it up, dizzy, and swam to the surface; when you emerged, you took a deep gulp of air, and it felt like stepping out of a different universe.

> Damian: Picture a frog. It's a relatively normal-sized frog, round-shaped like a little ball with big, comically bulging eyes on either side and a prehensile tongue that jolts out from time to time to catch a fly. It looks a little silly, fingertips wide and splayed on a water lily, but also very serene, practically unmoving, in the middle of the pond. The frog is a beautiful glossy green like the grass in a luxurious valley. Now here is a mind frog. You like the frog.

[steviewashere]

I am itching to write a frat boy Steve Harrington fic. Definitely modern day, no upside down, no supernatural elements. But not one where he desperately wants to leave it or he's being shunned by the other guys or where he feels like he doesn't fit in. Just one where he does stupid shit because it's funny to him.

He's got an estranged relationship with Tommy Hagan, another one of the frat boys. But they both ignite at the opportunity to get drunk, challenge each other to stupid bets (with no real reward), and party with people. Tommy's kind of a dick, but mostly a class clown kind of guy—doesn't do a whole lot of bullying, maybe some friendly teasing that sometimes goes a little too far (because he sucks at gauging his limit).

Steve's a reformed bully. He's learning to just sort of go with the flow, which is aided a lot by being loose and free and goofy and out-of-his-mind stupid at frat parties. He wants to meet as many different people as possible, maybe not become friends with all of them, but he wants to at least broaden his horizons.

He's buddies with a sorority girl named Nancy Wheeler (who also happens to be an ex-girlfriend, but that's water under the bridge), but she's not into partying—more into having a group of girls who want to see her succeed as a journalist (her sorority consists of her high school best friend, Barbara Holland, Tommy's girlfriend, Carol Perkins, a giddy cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, and a band geek who wants to be a conductor, Robin Buckley). I think he also becomes friends with Jonathan (although a bit reluctantly) through Nancy, and Argyle through Jonathan.

Steve becomes friends with Robin Buckley. Slowly, but surely. Adores her rambling conversations, which increase when she gets even the slightest bit tipsy with him (she never exceeds a few shots, and when he's with her, he doesn't drink more than that, either). She teases him without hurting his ego, unlike Tommy. He appreciates when she tells him that he's being a meathead, when he's out of his depth, when he's doing something even the slightest bit offensive. With her, he learns about his own sexuality (when she eventually comes out to him during a rather intense frat party—they had too much to drink this time, both loose-lipped and teetering). He learns to appreciate the more nerdy aspects of her, Nancy, and the rest of their sorority. Realizes he's more catty than he thought. Plays soccer with Robin on the weekends, though he sucks in comparison to when they play basketball together.

And through Robin, he meets somebody entirely new to him. Eddie Munson, a metalhead with a raspy voice and a cigarette addiction that Steve can get into, who charms in this weird flirtatious (though unintentional) teasing, who's beyond weird and dramatic, geeky with a touch of defensive. He's got a bite to him that Steve barks right back at, though never meanly. They get along like a house on fire, not a match, a house. Sure, sometimes they drink and party. But Eddie likes quieter things, despite his loud and boisterous personality. They smoke weed and sit on the roof and point out stars, or they talk for hours and hours until they both lose their voice, or they smoke and lay in the grass—absorbing one another's warmth without realizing.

It knocks Steve down, how much he learns to adore somebody like Eddie. Stirring something in him, something he's felt in his drunkest moments with Tommy. But with Eddie, he's completely sober. He's sober with intense emotion and want for a guy he's never expected to orbit around.

And, oddly enough, it's not Robin that tells him to go for it.

It's Tommy. He says something like, "Hey, we may not be best friends anymore, but I know what love looks like, man. And, y'know, considering all your past relationships, maybe it's time that you get something that makes you happy?" His voice is serious, unusually so. And Steve sort of clings to it, like a warm blanket on a camping trip. Tommy then adds something along the lines of, "Be stupid with me, Stevie-boy. Don't be stupid about your feelings. That gets you nowhere. And...I don't know this Eddie guy, not really, but there's something to him. Like a...one of those cloud things that Carol's always talking about—an aura? I could see him drawing you in before you had the chance to get his name."

Steve probably retorts with, "Shut up." And then blushes stupid about it. Because Tommy's never been wrong about these sort of things, no matter how much of an air cadet he can be. And he's also not wrong because when Robin first described to Steve who Eddie was, without giving a name initially, Steve was hooked like one of the fish he catches. (He goes on frat boy fishing trips and has a million photos in his phone of all the trout he's caught. Holds them up to the camera in that Straight Boy Way™️ (trademarked in case you can't see that on your dash), all proud as if the fish is his degree he's going out for.)

Also, I imagine that Steve goes to school to get a bachelor's degree in something like sports science? Or like physical education? Even something like family and human services?

So, line up of fields of study/options because now I want to come back to this:

-Nancy: Journalism -Robin: Music Education or Music Composition -Eddie: English or Music Production or Art -Steve: Sports Science or Physical Education or Family and Human Services -Tommy: Economics -Barb: English or Art History -Carol: Architecture -Chrissy: Special Education and American Sign Language (S.E. is typically a minor, but ASL is almost always a major) -Jonathan: Photography and Composition -Argyle: Neuroscience (I just feel it in my bones that he's like secretly crazy talented in sciences)

I can also think of some of the scenes being texting in group chats. And like with illustrations of Steve holding up his fish? God, my brain is on fire tonight.

[fenrir-wolf-of-gotham]

Batfamily members ranked on how likely it is that they have eaten tree bark: (10 being they absolutely have)

- Bruce Wayne: 10

- Dick Grayson: 10

- Jason Todd: 10

- Tim Drake: 7

- Damian Wayne: 10

- Cassandra Cain: 0 (there’s no way this girl who wandered the earth homeless and canonically lived with wolves for a while ate tree bark /s)

- Stephanie Brown: 10

- Barbara Gordon: 5

- Duke Thomas: 11

- Jarro: negative infinity (probably doesn’t know what tree bark is)

- Alfred: 111

- Kate Kane: 9

- Helena Wayne/Bertinelli: 10

- Harley Quinn: 3

- Talia Al Ghul: -0 (She's a princess and wouldn't sully her pallet with tree bark)

Jokes on you this was actually all about seeing how many members of the Batfamily I could remember. All these numbers are FALSE!!! (well, except for Jarro and Talia)

“What about Catwoman?”