#barbara barks

[junewolfsblog]

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!

[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

[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 ->]

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

good old-fashioned lover boy

a valentines weekend event fic!

jason todd x reader: ever the romantic: despite all his best attempts, none of his valentine’s day plans are going right!

content level: fluff so fluffy you could make a bed out of it and sleep for days

“with what..i most enjoy contented least..” jason shakes his head, pacing around the living room. “yet..in these thoughts? myself almost despising..c’mon, already!” he keeps muttering to himself, and from your position in the hallway, he looks extremely frustrated. you stifle a giggle, stepping out.

“jay?” you call, smiling warmly as you head his way.

“baby!” he starts, looking surprised. he puts up what look like jazz hands, before looking at his pose and dropping them, sheepish. “what’s up?”

“oh, nothing..” you plop onto the couch, pulling out your phone, waving it at him. “i did just get off of the phone with your brother, and he’s taking barbara on a little getaway. isn’t that sweet?”

jason nods, his whole demeanor having changed since the mention of dick. he waves for you to continue. because of course there’s more.

“well, he was wondering if we’d be able to dogsit haley.” you drop the news, almost cringing in anticipation of jason’s hard:

“no.”

“jay, why not? that dog is so stinkin’ cute and i have no problem with it.” he plops down next to you on the couch, and you blink up at him. “besides, it’s for valentine’s day! spread a little love!”

jason grabs your thigh, smirking. “oh, i’ll spread a little love, alright.”

“not if you’re gonna be this stubborn.” you roll your eyes, whacking his arm.

he sighs as you get up to go to the kitchen, dramatic as ever.

“fine.” he relents, and internally you let out a sigh of your own.

“good, because i already told him yes.”

your admission leaves jason groaning, but a small smile sits on his lips.

a few months prior:

“these ones, right?” the clerk looks up as packets upon packets of seeds tumble onto the checkout counter. she sets down her magazine, mumbling under her breath.

“camellia, tulips, coneflower, lily of the valley..” she shuffles through them, nodding as she goes. “yep, these should all work!”

“okay.” jason nods firmly. “i want all of them.”

february 13

haley’s happy barks are making you giggle, and jason suddenly can’t remember why he was ever opposed to the idea. if there’s an open tab on his search engine for the nearest shelter, well. that’s no one’s business but his.

you’re infatuated with haley, and jason snapped a ridiculous amount of pictures when you fell asleep on the couch with the dog snuggled up next to you.

later

you walk in as jason’s opening and closing the cabinets in the kitchen, a bit frantically.

“okay, flour, baking soda, sugar..”

“hey, baby. whatcha doing?”

jason jumps, turning around with a smile.

“hi honey! nothing, really. what are you doing?” he leans against one of the counters.

“uh..nothing? do you still want to go try that new pizza spot?” you walk up to him, resting your head on his chest and threading your arms under his. he wraps you up into a hug, walking you away from the kitchen. you giggle, your smile scrunching up your eyes.

“jay, where are we going?”

“why, to go get ready, of course?” he says, playing serious.

even later

you’re scrolling on your phone, looking for gifts for your boyfriend for valentine’s day, when he pops his head into the bedroom.

“i’m going to head out to the store, babe. do you need anything?”

you cock your head, sort of confused. you and jason almost always go get groceries together, unless one of you is at work or something. you set your phone down, thinking.

“the only thing i can think of is that we might be running a little low on eggs?”

jason nods, coming in to plant a big kiss on your forehead.

“sounds good,” he says, grabbing his jacket as he walks out. you settle back into bed, eyebrows furrowed. weird.

february 14th

“damn it, damian!” jason hoarsely growls from your apartment’s balcony, eyes locked on his flower pots. (or what was left of them) he’d gotten up early to get everything ready, and there was a batarang lodged into his pot, the flowers—he leaned over the railing—yup, on the sidewalk. great. now he’d have to buy you a store bought bouquet. which is fine, but seriously? he has half a mind to send a bill to bruce, he’s so pissed off. he didn’t even realize they were fighting over here last night, how could he not have heard?

he trudges down to the street with a garbage bag, carefully picking up the flowers—which had already been stepped on, to add insult to injury—handfuls of dirt, and the broken shards of the pot, dropping them all into the bag. an elderly woman strolls by, patting him on the back.

“such a nice young man!” she calls after him. he nods, raising a hand in acknowledgement. he doesn’t feel very nice right now.

jason cannot believe his ears right now. his voice is..gone? he spent weeks memorizing that sonnet for you, and his voice is a raspy, gravelly mess. you two had slept with the window open last night and it’d been pretty cold, but you liked that. he liked it, because the you’d snuggle up next to him. but he must be starting to get a cold or something. he hasn’t really talked yet today either, he’s been home alone while you’re at work. so far he’s just talked to the dog..which went extremely poorly. he tried to give haley a command, but just sounded like a teenager in puberty. he just knows if dogs could laugh, haley would’ve been cackling. ugh. maybe he’ll just save it for an anniversary. tying on an apron, jason grabs all the cake ingredients he needs, setting them out onto the counter.

the cake is baked, and it is beautiful. jason’s proud of himself, putting the final touches on the frosting, adding flourishes he didn’t even know he knew how to do. he sets down the piping bag, checking the time. you should be home from work anytime now. he takes his apron off, washing his hands. his shirt is..covered in flour, to say the least. he goes the bedroom to change, (into a different black shirt) coming back out when he sees disaster about to strike.

“haley, no!” jason shouts, except the dog can’t hear him if he’s lost his voice. haley jumps up, grabbing the end of the plate with her teeth. it bangs against the side of the counter, effectively flinging the cake across the room, onto the kitchen floor. jason slaps a hand over his eyes, groaning. the familiar metal of your key slots into the lock, and you open the door to…

what exactly is going on, anyways?

jason has a smear of what looks like flour on his face, haley is sitting, looking at you with her tongue out and her tail wagging, and there’s a cake. on the floor.

“jay..what?” you set down your bag, shrugging your coat off and dropping that too, heading towards your boyfriend. “what happened, baby?”

“i was trying,” jason sighs. “i was trying to make you a cake for valentine’s day. and grow you flowers. and recite shakespeare to you. but quite literally none of those things worked out.”

you smile, sending his heart thumping as you brush the flour off of his cheek.

“well, i don’t know about you, but i’m starving. and there’s some cake on the floor over there that looks, like, really good.”

jason rolls his eyes at you, a smile starting on his lips. you grab two forks, handing him one. he joins you on the floor, watching as you take a huge first bite. your cheeks puffed, you chew with wide eyes. jason chuckles, grabbing some for himself too. you swallow, grabbing his hand.

“jason. i don’t know how to tell you this, but you need to quit everything you’re doing and become a professional baker. this cake is insane.” you take another bite, sighing as you close your eyes.

“you’re ridiculous.” jason’s blushing, shaking his head. you shrug, scooping cake up and bringing your fork to his lips.

“yeah, but you like it.” you say as he nods, chewing. he swallows, beaming at you.

“happy valentine’s day, baby.”

“happy valentine’s day, jason.”

༄ For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

from sonnet 29, william shakespeare.

post divider courtesy of: @saradika-graphics

[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.

[brucewaynehater101]

Hey. I need more of that soul crushing time travel fix-it angst, so here ya go:

~~~

Tim doesn't regret it.

They're happy. They're content and okay in a way Tim hasn't felt in a long time. It's not perfect, but they're alright.

Alfred's hands don't shake at the sound of broken glass and there isn't an abundance of scar tissue on Damian's body.

Bruce doesn't become cold and emotionless suddenly, and no harsh bitter laughs errupt from Jason.

Knocks on her door don't frighten Barbara, and Steph doesn't flinch at the sound of heart monitors.

Dick's gaze doesn't grow distant at the sight of rain, and Cass doesn't fight until she drops.

They laugh more freely and smile more openly. There's more impromptu pillow fights, dance parties, harmless pranks, and hangouts.

Fuck. They talk. They actually fucking talk to each other about their issues and their problems. They rely on each other and reach out when they are struggling.

It's... Tim doesn't have to fight and wheedle and manipulate them into accepting his aid.

They're happier this way. Less weighed down.

So he doesn't regret it.

But hell. Fucking hell. He misses them.

It's not like they don't talk. He interacts with them and hugs them. He's even able to tell them how much he loves and cares about them. He sees them nearly every day.

But it's not... They're not...

He aches for Dick's understanding look and support when he shies from touch.

It hurts when he makes dry comments about the trauma and Jason offers comfort instead of that startled bark of laughter.

He misses the silent glances Bruce would send when the older man was confused in a social situation.

There's that all-consuming yearning for Cass to already understand why Tim feels the way he does without him explaining it to her once more.

Damian doesn't pester him into "battles to death" as a form of bonding.

Tim wants the reassurance again that Barbara is always watching and hypervigilant of both the family and their enemies.

Gods, he longs for those monthly nights of tea where he and Alfred review their notes on how each family member is doing and what they've been doing to support them.

Steph doesn't point out every single brick they come across with a cocky and fond grin.

Fuck.

They're right there. They're right in front of him.

And they're doing so much better. They practically glow without all that used to haunt them.

He should be glad about that. He should just enjoy the fruits of his labor and bask in the feeling of relief.

He shouldn't feel so empty, so alone whenever they react differently than he's used to. There shouldn't be this disconnect and sense of strangeness.

They're better off for it.

It's better for them.

Tim doesn't regret it.

He knew what he was doing when he chose to change everything.

But fuck does he miss his family.

[schemmentisimpasours]

Choosing The Dark

Anon Request:can I request a Melissa x fem reader fic where reader is somewhat goth/emo new teacher and it’s a enemies to lovers (I tried to do this request justice. I hope you like it anon <3 ) Summary: Melissa is more than pissed about the new art teacher at Abbott Elementary

(AO3 saw it first because I didn't have the time to post it today so this post got scheduled last night)

Masterlist

-

Melissa came into work that day, angrier than Barbara had seen in quite some time. She threw down in her bag, slamming the fridge as she went to refill her coffee. The whole time she swore underneath her breath getting more aggressive as she went. The younger teachers quickly made their way from the room before Melissa could turn on them. Barbara stayed silent till the redhead flopped down at the seat next to her. 

“Bad morning?”

Melissa scoffed, “You could say that. I lost in my fantasy football league to a woman who doesn’t even know what she was doing. She picked purely on if she liked their name or not. I was sure she was gonna be out in the first couple of rounds but now she is in the championship. She beat me by one point Barb!”

Just as Melissa said this Ava walked in with you close to her side. It was your first day as Abbott’s new full time art teacher from funds that had been secured from blackmailing the golf course. You were excited at work picking one of your favorite outfits for the day: black dress with sheer sleeves stopping right above your black platform boots. Accessorized with different silver necklaces and bracelets. You had spent hours making sure your hair was in a two perfect buns with bang framing your face. Even your winged eyeliner had been the best you had ever done. Topped it all off with deep burgundy lipstick and you felt like you were ontop of the world. 

Well until you saw the redhead that you had been dreaming about since last Sunday. She glared daggers at you and you were brought back to last night's dreams where that angry glare had been inbetween your legs. You took a deep breath to try and control your unholy thoughts as you stared at the woman. She didn’t like you and had made that very clear but it didn’t stop you from wanting her. 

“What she doin’ here?” Melissa barked at Ava.

“Red, you could let me introduce the new teacher before you start yelling. That is how we lost the last teacher,” Ava said shaking her head, “This is Y/N our new art teacher. She will be here full time with that money from the golf course. Y/N this is Barbara Howard who teaches Kindergarten and Melissa…”

“We already met,” The older woman retorted slamming down her coffee, “You picked this job just because it sounded cool or are you actually qualified kid?”

You felt a lump in your throat at how callously she talked to you, “I actually have a masters degree in art therapy from Penn State University.”

“Well we don’t have supplies and the art room got turned into a storage closet last year,” Melissa smirked, “So have fun making masterpieces out of popsicle sticks from the lunch trash can.”

“Melissa!” Barbara scolded.

“Or I can just use my winnings from the fantasy football league,” You shot back, “Since I am already slotted to win the whole thing. How much was the winning pot again Schemmenti?”

You could hear Melissa growl as she tightened her hand around her coffee cup. Ava smiled looking between the two of you, “Oh so the plot thickens. Let me get my phone out.”

“Don’t bother I will be in my classroom to prepare for my classes tomorrow,” You said casually turning towards Barbara, “It was excellent to meet you Ms. Howard. I am coming to get your class tomorrow first thing in the morning. If there is anything you need me to know please feel free to stop by later.”

Then with a swish of your skirt you were off down the hall, completely ignoring the older woman who was staring at you. Once inside your classroom you let out a large sigh trying to hold back the tears that threatened to come over you. This job had been a risk but after no one else had wanted to take a chance on you it was the only thing you had left. But with Melissa’s nasty comment already swirling your head you didn’t know how long you could keep it up. 

This back and forth between you and Melissa went on for weeks. Her constantly digging at your teaching styles and always pointing out when you had made a mistake became exhausting. You already struggled keeping 200 students in check you didn’t need teachers also questioning you. It angered you even more that Melissa had been right and supplies had been so limited that soon you were borrowing from your savings. You had promised yourself you were going to open an art installation one day but seeing these kids light up when they were able to paint or have markers that weren’t dried out was the best thing you could ask for. 

You were showing these new supplies to Barbara in the break room one day when Melissa stormed in her usual cloud of anger. She had lost yet another bet this time on an NHL game and it had left her in a sour mood. 

“You really spent your fantasy football money on those? A waste if you ask me” She scoffed looking down at a large bucket full of cotton balls, piper cleaner,construction paper, paper plates, markers, and googly eyes.

This was when your rage finally boiled over and you snapped, “This waste is your Peter Rabbit project. Barbara told me how important it is to you and I wanted to make sure that we could give them everything they needed plus some this year. We were out of cotton balls, only had paper plates with food stains on them and not a single googly eye in this whole damn building. But if it is such a waste them screw it.”

You pushed the bucket off the table and watched as the contents scattered to the floor.You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the mess that you had made too angry to care much about anything.  You reached for your badge and phone stalking to the door. Right as you went to leave you turned back to the shocked older women.

“And just so you know I bought that with my own money from savings… you know the money I was saving to make my own art collection. Which is now empty because I put money into our kids instead. That fantasy football money you are so worried about went to help pay my daughter’s medical bills. From the car accident that she was in before school started. I still have no idea how you are her favorite teacher but don’t worry I will ask Ava to transfer her immediately.”

With a slam of the door you were gone storming out of the school and onto the front steps. As soon as the fresh air hit your face you dropped down crying into your hands. 

Back in the break room Barbara had her arms crossed looking at her best friend, “Really messed this one up.”

Melissa looked down at the supplies all over the floor and then back at Barbara, “Her daughter?”

“If you took one second to know the girl you would have known her daughter is Astrid.”

“The one who has the purple cast,” Melissa paused realizing how much your daughter Astrid looked like you. Just covered in all the colors of the rainbow instead of your usual black atire, “Oh god I am such an idiot.”

“You could say that again,” Barbara huffed and then got up, “Make sure you pick up your mess.”

Melissa spent the remainder of the lunch scrapping up papers and googly eyes trying to organize them the best she could. The entire time all she could think about how many mistakes she had made. Sure she had been pissed off about the fantasy football thing. But she had been more pissed that you looked hot doing it. That her dreams had been filled by kissing that smirk off your face when you gave her a bratty attitude. Then it just became easier to give you shit than to admit her real feelings toward you. 

When she had made her way to your classroom the door was shut for the first time since you had come to Abbott. She knocked gently and waited for you “Come in” before stepping inside. When you noticed it was her you turned your back focusing on the art projects you were lining the wall with.

“What do you want Schemmenti?”

“To apologize,” Melissa said placing the bin on the table, “I shouldn’t have criticized your supplies. The kids love coming to your class and they have been able to make more this year than ever before. I can chip in some money if you need…”

You turned abruptly throwing an envelope on the table, “I don’t need your damn money. And there is the fantasy football winnings. Take them.”

“But this is for Astrid’s medical bills,” Melissa pushing it back.

“I will figure it out but I can’t have you holding it over me for the rest of my life cause I got lucky the one time when my life was falling apart,” Tears welled in your eyes again and you did your best to shove them down, “I never wanted you to hate me. You know how hard it is to be the only girl in the fantasy football league. I thought we could have been friends...”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You sure act like it,” You scoffed.

“You want to know why I become snippy with you,” Melissa said stalking over until you were pushed up against the counter, “Becuase I can’t get you out of my damn head. I think about you ever moment of the damn day.”

She ran her fingers over your lips pulling away a line of burgundy lipstick across your cheek, “How much I want to ruin this damn lipstick everytime you open up your bratty ass mouth. How much I want to take you home in my bed just to get you to shut up for one damn minute. I don’t hate you Y/N. I am so fucking obsessed with the idea of making you mine that I can’t think straight.”

“Prove it,” You whispered.

Melissa’s eyes darkened, “What was that, sweetheart?”

“Prove it,” You snipped, “Prove how obsessed with me you are.”

Melissa smiled before lifting you up onto the counter before crashing her lips into yours. The guttural moan that came out of you would have made you embarrassed if it hadn’t been for the way Melissa moaned with you. You got lost in the feeling of her pressed against you her hands gently pulling at your hair as you clung desperately to her. The kiss only broke when there was a knock on the door.

“Um, excuse me but my class would like to start art,” Barbara said shielding her students behind her.

Melissa pulled away with a laugh fixing your lipstick the best she could before placing her forehead on yours, “So can I take you out on a real date? Maybe makeout somewhere that isn’t crawling with students.”

-

Taglist

@yoyo-w

@cupldscntrl

@milfslvr

@liliapleasesteponme

[junewolfsblog]

hey if you are reading this, i hope your day is good. i hope there is reason to smile. hearing the birds, catching a nice breeze, a good cup of coffee. something to ground you in the present, so you can get ready for the future to arrive. because your future isnt gone, and it can still be beautiful.

[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!)

[nathalieskinoblog]

[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

[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.

[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 friend'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.

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Family x Fem!OC

How they handle your relationship with your dog

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

The return of the great, the beautiful, the unique... Mr. Pickles!

Jason Todd aka. Red Hood

- Jason was initially skeptical about your small, fluffy dog, Mr. Pickles. He wasn’t the kind of man who saw himself as the “cute dog” type, and the idea of having a pet that couldn’t fend for itself felt foreign to him. Yet, the moment he met Mr. Pickles, his gruff exterior cracked. The little fluff ball waddled up to him with wide, trusting eyes, and Jason, against all odds, melted. He let out a grumbled “You’re lucky you’re cute,” as the dog pawed at his boots, earning a chuckle from you.

- Over time, Jason became surprisingly attached to Mr. Pickles. He’d grumble about how ridiculous it was that the dog needed sweaters in winter and would roll his eyes at the sheer number of toys you’d bought. But you’d catch him sneaking pieces of his dinner to Mr. Pickles when he thought you weren’t looking, or lying on the couch with the tiny dog curled up on his chest while he read.

- Jason found humor in Mr. Pickles' lack of brightness. He’d mutter under his breath about how the dog walked into walls or barked at his own reflection, but you noticed the fond smile that tugged at his lips every time. “He’s not the smartest, but he’s got heart,” Jason would say, scratching behind Mr. Pickles' ears, his rough hands gentler than you’d ever seen.

- With you, Jason handled the balance between teasing and indulgence. He pretended to groan when you insisted on bringing Mr. Pickles on outings, but he’d always make sure to carry an extra bottle of water and snacks for the dog. “You spoil him,” he’d tease, but he was no better—making sure Mr. Pickles’ leash was securely fastened and standing protectively between him and any potential danger.

- On quiet nights, Jason would sometimes watch you and Mr. Pickles with an almost wistful expression. Seeing the two of you together softened the jagged edges of his life. “You two,” he’d murmur, pulling you close, “make me believe in good things.” And with Mr. Pickles snoring softly between you both, Jason found a rare kind of peace.

Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing

- Dick was utterly delighted when he first met Mr. Pickles. “This is the fluffiest dog I’ve ever seen!” he exclaimed, crouching down immediately to introduce himself. The dog responded with enthusiastic tail wagging and jumped into Dick’s lap without hesitation. “Looks like we’re already best friends,” he grinned, flashing that signature charm that made your heart flutter.

- He had a natural knack for handling Mr. Pickles, easily matching the dog’s playful energy. Whether it was throwing a toy across the room or initiating a game of tug-of-war, Dick seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with the little fluff ball. He’d even create obstacle courses in your living room, guiding Mr. Pickles through them with patience and encouragement, clapping like a proud dad whenever the dog completed a “challenge.”

- Dick adored how much joy Mr. Pickles brought into your life. He’d often catch you giggling at your dog’s antics—whether it was the way he tumbled over his own paws or barked at a falling leaf—and join in your laughter. “He’s got your energy,” Dick would tease, pressing a kiss to your temple while the dog rolled around on the carpet, blissfully unaware.

- Despite his easygoing nature, Dick was fiercely protective of both you and Mr. Pickles. He’d instinctively pick the dog up when crossing a busy street or shield him from larger, more boisterous dogs at the park. “What?” he’d say when you teased him about it. “He’s family.” That simple statement warmed your heart more than you could express.

- On lazy mornings, you’d often wake to find Dick sprawled across the bed, Mr. Pickles snuggled into his side. He’d glance at you, sleepy but content, and say, “I think he likes me more than you.” You’d roll your eyes, but the sight of the two of them—your energetic, kind-hearted partner and your adorably clueless dog—made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

Tim Drake aka. Red Robin

- Tim’s reaction to Mr. Pickles was a mix of curiosity and mild awkwardness. “He’s…very fluffy,” he said when you first introduced them, his hand hovering hesitantly over the dog’s head before finally giving him a gentle pat. Mr. Pickles wagged his tail enthusiastically, oblivious to Tim’s initial uncertainty. “Does he do tricks?” Tim asked, trying to find some common ground with the little dog.

- It didn’t take long for Tim to warm up to Mr. Pickles, though. His analytical mind led him to research everything there was to know about small dogs. “Did you know their sense of smell is 40 times stronger than ours?” he’d say, sharing random facts as Mr. Pickles sprawled across his lap during one of your late-night movie marathons.

- Tim’s patience with Mr. Pickles was one of the things you loved most. Whether it was dealing with the dog’s clumsiness or his tendency to bark at inanimate objects, Tim never lost his calm. “He’s just trying to protect you,” Tim would say, crouching down to reassure Mr. Pickles after a particularly loud outburst at the vacuum cleaner.

- With you, Tim’s interactions around Mr. Pickles were quietly endearing. He’d bring home small toys or treats he thought the dog might like, and he always made sure Mr. Pickles had a comfortable spot when you were all relaxing together. “He’s part of the team,” Tim would say with a shy smile, and you’d feel your heart swell with affection.

- Late at night, when the world felt still and quiet, you’d find Tim at his desk, working on a case. Mr. Pickles would often be curled up on his feet, a tiny, fluffy sentinel keeping him company. “He’s a good dog,” Tim would say when you came to check on them, and in those moments, you realized just how seamlessly the two of them had fit into your life.

Damian Wayne aka. Robin (Aged up)

- Damian was, predictably, unimpressed when he first met Mr. Pickles. “What is this…creature?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as the fluffy dog sniffed curiously at his shoes. Despite his initial disdain, you noticed the slight softening in his expression when Mr. Pickles wagged his tail and licked Damian’s hand. “Tt. It’s not very intelligent, is it?”

- Despite his aloofness, Damian couldn’t help but form a bond with Mr. Pickles. You’d often catch him sneaking small pieces of food to the dog under the table or letting him sit in his lap during quieter moments. “It’s merely tolerable,” Damian insisted whenever you teased him, but the way he gently scratched behind Mr. Pickles’ ears told a different story.

- Damian approached caring for Mr. Pickles with the same precision and discipline he applied to everything in his life. He insisted on taking the dog for walks, ensuring that Mr. Pickles received proper exercise. “If he is to remain under our care, he must be healthy,” Damian explained, but you knew he secretly enjoyed their outings together.

- When it came to you, Damian’s interactions around Mr. Pickles were surprisingly tender. He respected how much the dog meant to you and went out of his way to accommodate him in your shared life. Whether it was ensuring Mr. Pickles had his favorite spot on the couch or making sure his water bowl was always full, Damian’s subtle acts of care melted your heart.

- Over time, Damian began to regard Mr. Pickles as more than just a pet. He’d occasionally refer to the dog as “our little knight” and even crafted a tiny, makeshift cape for him. Watching Damian interact with Mr. Pickles—his guarded nature giving way to moments of unguarded affection—only made you fall for him even more.

Barbara Gordon aka. Oracle / Batgirl

- Barbara’s face lit up the moment she saw Mr. Pickles. “Oh my gosh, he’s adorable!” she exclaimed, crouching down to let the dog sniff her hand before scratching behind his ears. Mr. Pickles responded with an enthusiastic bark and an attempt to climb into her lap. “Looks like I’ve got a new best friend,” she teased, winking at you.

- Barbara was a natural with Mr. Pickles, effortlessly balancing playfulness and care. She’d create little games to keep him entertained, laughing as the dog chased after a toy or tried (and failed) to catch his own tail. “He’s like a tiny tornado,” she said one evening, watching as Mr. Pickles zoomed around the living room.

- Her warmth extended to both you and Mr. Pickles in equal measure. Barbara loved how much joy the dog brought into your life and always made sure to include him in your plans. Whether it was finding dog-friendly cafes or suggesting walks in the park, she embraced Mr. Pickles as part of your relationship.

- Barbara’s tech-savvy nature even came into play. She designed a custom GPS tracker for Mr. Pickles' collar, “just in case,” she said with a smile. You couldn’t help but marvel at how thoughtful she was, always going the extra mile to ensure the dog’s safety and your peace of mind.

- On quiet evenings, Barbara loved curling up with you and Mr. Pickles on the couch, a warm blanket draped over the three of you. “This,” she’d say, her voice soft as she rested her head against your shoulder, “is my favorite kind of night.” And with Mr. Pickles snuggled between you, his little snores filling the room, you couldn’t have agreed more.

Stephanie Brown aka. Spoiler

- Stephanie instantly fell head over heels for Mr. Pickles. The moment you introduced them, she squealed, scooped up the tiny fluff ball, and spun around the room with him in her arms. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! How did I not know about him sooner?” she gushed, her bright energy matching your dog’s boundless enthusiasm. From that moment on, Stephanie declared herself Mr. Pickles’ honorary co-parent.

- She treated Mr. Pickles like he was her little sidekick, even going so far as to create a tiny “Spoiler” mask for him out of purple felt. “He’s ready for action now,” she announced proudly, setting him down to watch him stumble adorably over the mask that partially blocked his vision. “Okay, maybe not crime-fighting material, but he’s got the spirit!”

- Stephanie loved to narrate Mr. Pickles’ every move, often giving him a dramatic inner monologue as he wandered aimlessly around the house or barked at nothing in particular. “Oh no, the vacuum is attacking again! Must defend my humans at all costs!” she’d say, mock-seriously, while you laughed at her antics. Her playful approach brought endless joy to both you and your not-so-bright dog.

- Her bond with Mr. Pickles only deepened because of how much he loved you. Stephanie often teased you about how Mr. Pickles followed you around like a little shadow, but she found it endearing. “I don’t blame him; you’re pretty lovable,” she’d say with a wink, curling up next to you and pulling Mr. Pickles into her lap.

- On your lazy days together, you’d often find Stephanie lying on the floor, nose-to-nose with Mr. Pickles, whispering secrets only they seemed to understand. “He’s telling me he wants more treats,” she’d say, feigning innocence when you caught her slipping him an extra snack. Watching her interact so lovingly with your dog only made you love her more.

Cassandra Cain aka. Orphan

- Cassandra’s first interaction with Mr. Pickles was cautious but curious. She approached the tiny fluff ball with quiet grace, kneeling down and extending her hand for him to sniff. Mr. Pickles wagged his tail enthusiastically, and when he licked her fingers, a small smile crept onto her face. “He likes me,” she said softly, as if surprised by the dog’s instant affection.

- Cass quickly grew attached to Mr. Pickles in her own understated way. While she wasn’t as outwardly playful as others, she showed her affection through gentle gestures—carrying him when he got tired on walks, petting him in slow, deliberate strokes, and sitting cross-legged on the floor so he could curl up in her lap.

- She had a knack for understanding Mr. Pickles’ needs, almost as if she could read his body language. Whether it was realizing he wanted a belly rub or sensing he was anxious during a thunderstorm, Cass was always there to comfort him. “He’s brave,” she once said, cradling the trembling dog in her arms during a storm. “Like you.”

- Cassandra adored watching you interact with Mr. Pickles. She often sat quietly nearby, her dark eyes soft with affection as you played or cuddled with your dog. “You’re good with him,” she’d say, her voice filled with quiet admiration. Seeing your kindness with Mr. Pickles deepened her love for you in ways she couldn’t always put into words.

- On peaceful nights, the three of you would sit together in serene companionship. Mr. Pickles would curl up between you and Cass as she leaned against your shoulder. “He’s family,” she’d whisper, her fingers brushing against yours, and in those moments, you felt an unspoken bond between the three of you that words could never capture.

Duke Thomas aka. Signal

- Duke was instantly charmed by Mr. Pickles’ fluffy, carefree demeanor. “Okay, I wasn’t prepared for this level of cuteness,” he admitted, crouching down to pet the dog. Mr. Pickles responded by jumping on Duke and licking his face, earning a laugh that made your heart skip a beat. From then on, Duke was completely on board with having a small, slightly clueless dog as part of his life.

- Duke was a natural when it came to keeping Mr. Pickles entertained. He’d play fetch with boundless energy, chase the dog around the yard, and even teach him a few basic tricks—though Mr. Pickles’ limited intelligence made it a bit of a challenge. “He’s trying his best,” Duke would say with a grin as Mr. Pickles spun in circles instead of sitting.

- He often used his downtime to bond with both you and Mr. Pickles. Whether it was watching movies with the dog sprawled across his lap or taking long walks with the three of you together, Duke treasured those simple moments of connection. “This is nice,” he’d say, his arm around you while Mr. Pickles sniffed happily at every blade of grass in sight.

- Duke loved how happy Mr. Pickles made you. He’d often point out how your face lit up when your dog did something particularly silly, like chasing his tail or barking at a shadow. “He’s a reflection of you, you know,” Duke teased, nudging you playfully. “Adorable and a little ridiculous.”

- On quiet evenings, you’d often find Duke lying on the floor with Mr. Pickles curled up against his chest. He’d glance up at you with a warm smile and say, “I think he’s claimed me as his favorite.” You’d laugh, but deep down, you knew Duke had a special way of making everyone—dogs and humans alike—feel loved and safe.

Selina Kyle aka. Catwoman

- Selina’s first reaction to Mr. Pickles was a mix of amusement and mild disbelief. “You have a dog? And this is it?” she asked with a smirk, crouching down to inspect the fluffy little creature. Mr. Pickles barked excitedly and pawed at her, and to your surprise, Selina scooped him up with practiced ease. “Well, aren’t you a little charmer?”

- Selina’s bond with Mr. Pickles was as playful and mischievous as she was. She’d dangle toys just out of his reach, encouraging him to leap and spin in an attempt to catch them. “He’s got spirit,” she said with a grin, watching as the dog tumbled over himself in his excitement.

- Despite her teasing, Selina was fiercely protective of Mr. Pickles. She’d glare at anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way during walks and once threatened a stray cat that hissed at him. “No one messes with what’s mine,” she declared, scooping Mr. Pickles into her arms and stroking his fur to calm him down.

- Selina loved to spoil both you and Mr. Pickles. She’d return from errands with fancy dog treats and designer accessories, joking that “even the fluffiest member of the family deserves to look good.” Seeing Mr. Pickles prance around in a tiny leather collar she’d picked out always brought a smile to her face.

- At night, Selina loved to lounge with you on the couch, Mr. Pickles nestled comfortably between you. “He’s got good taste,” she’d say with a sly grin, watching the dog drift off to sleep in your lap. “But then again, so do I.” And as she leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t help but agree.

Kate Kane aka. Batwoman

- Kate was initially indifferent about Mr. Pickles, more focused on you than the small ball of fluff at your feet. “He’s…cute,” she said diplomatically, her sharp eyes softening slightly as Mr. Pickles sniffed at her boots. When the dog barked happily and wagged his tail, Kate let out a reluctant laugh. “Okay, maybe a little more than cute.”

- Her affection for Mr. Pickles grew quickly, though she’d never admit it outright. You’d catch her sneaking him treats when she thought you weren’t looking or giving him gentle pats while pretending not to care. “He’s your dog,” she’d insist, though the sight of him curled up at her side told a different story.

- Kate’s protective nature extended to Mr. Pickles in surprising ways. She’d insist on accompanying you to the vet, making sure his leash was secure during walks, and standing between him and any potential threats. “He’s small; someone’s gotta look out for him,” she said gruffly, though her soft smile betrayed her.

- With you, Kate loved to tease about how spoiled Mr. Pickles was. “You know he owns this house now, right?” she joked, watching as the dog sprawled across your bed without a care in the world. But her playful remarks were always accompanied by a warmth that made you feel like your little family was complete.

- On nights when the world felt too heavy, Kate would sit with you and Mr. Pickles in comfortable silence, her arm wrapped around you and her hand resting lightly on the dog’s fur. “This,” she’d say softly, her voice low and steady, “is what makes it all worth it.” And in those moments, you knew she meant every word.