#cyber dreads

[bloodvampyr]

(x)

[cybergirl2006]

Source

[null-entity]

Night City BABY!!

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[scripture-digital]

Finding inspiration in the end times <3

[sekaitransparents]

the new cards are so up our alley, omg. rui’s is definitely the coolest.

[mama-qwerty]

Returning the Favor

Super self-indulgent snippet, written specifically because I was feeling bad and needed a pick-me-up.

Dread comforting Callie. 'Nuff said.

~~~~~

Dread scrounged through the cabinets in the Sanctuary’s kitchen. He was the only Knuckles here for the moment—a rare occurrence—and he aimed to take advantage of the solitude.

Any leftover cookies were going back to No Place with him.

“All treats are meant to stay in the Sanctuary for the enjoyment of all Knuckleses,” Cyber called, as though he had read Dread’s mind. The blasted ghost always seemed to want to spout off rules and spoil his fun.

(Yes, Dread knew the others referred to Cyber as a ‘holler-gram’, but that really seemed like a silly word for what the echidna obviously was. Cyber was see-through, appeared and disappeared at will, and couldn’t interact with the physical objects of the Sanctuary. Only one kind of creature exhibited all those traits, and Dread was no fool. Cyber was a ghost. A sentient one, sure, but a ghost nonetheless.)

“At th’ moment, Cyber lad,” Dread said, digging through the last cabinet, “I happen t’ be th’ only Knuckles here. Well, the only real Knuckles here. No offense, lad. So any sweet treats be rightfully mine. Finders keepers an’ all that.”

The pirate uttered a triumphant laugh as he discovered a container filled with chocolate chunk cookies, and pulled the lid off to shove one into his mouth. He turned to give Cyber a crumb-covered smirk, and the transparent echidna produced a very convincing scowl. Dread had Cyber on a technicality, and although it seemed to annoy the ghost, he didn’t say anything.

The two stared each other down for a moment, before Cyber blinked, his eyes glowing green.

“Miss Callie, incoming,” he announced, just as a portal opened.

Dread nearly choked. He wasn’t scared of anyone or anything, but if the lass caught him scarfing down the rest of the cookies like this, she’d give him one of those looks. The one that was part disappointment, part annoyance, part irritation, and part disapproval. And he’d rather face down a dozen krakens than endure that look cast in his direction just once.

Callie came through her portal, moving at a fast walk.

“Lass!” he called out, hurriedly swallowing the cookie mush in his mouth. He slammed the lid back on the container and shoved it into the cabinet before turning around to throw her his best charming smile. “I were jus’ gettin’ meself a snack, an’ . . . lass?”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t even seem to notice him. Instead she made a beeline for the quiet room, pulling the tie from the bottom of her braid as she went. She dropped it, right before running her fingers through her hair, separating the plaits and giving it a sharp tug as she uttered a low grunt.

Then she was in the quiet room, closing the door behind her.

Dread’s brow furrowed. He’d never seen her like that.

Hopping down from his stool, the pirate walked over to where the lass’ hair tie lay. He picked it up, giving it a look before turning his attention back to the door of the quiet room.

“Miss Callie occasionally requires the peace the Sanctuary offers,” Cyber said, his voice softer. “She requested I keep her informed on the occupancy here, so she may come when it’s empty.”

Dread turned his attention back to him. “She’s done this b’fore?”

The holler-gram nodded. “Twice. She goes into the quiet room, and although I don’t directly monitor in there, sound carries, especially when it’s quiet out here.”

“What kind o’ sounds?”

Cyber hesitated. “I feel it would be an invasion of her privacy if I repeated anything more. I should not have told you what I have.”

“Well ye did an’ now I wanna know th’ rest,” Dread said, moving a step closer to the transparent echidna. “What sounds, ye blasted ghost?”

“Hologram. I am the avatar for the Master Emerald—”

“I don’t give a flyin’ fig if ye’re a holler-gram, avertar, ‘r jus’ a persnickety figment of me imagination.” A snarl curled Dread’s lip as his patience quickly ran out. “Tell me what sounds ye heard. Now.”

Silence settled over the two, and Cyber pulled his lips tight. “Sorrow.”

Dread’s face fell. “She . . . ye mean, she were cryin’?”

A short nod. “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s more of a frustrated scream. Emotions are tricky for me to decipher, I can only extrapolate from the data I’ve collected from the rest of you. And I have never observed Miss Callie in situations which conjure these types of reactions.”

The pirate turned back to look toward the quiet room’s door. He didn’t hear anything at the moment, just an ominous silence, one that rang in his ears as he stared.

Sorrow? What would cause the lass such a deep feeling of sorrow that she would (regularly) need to come to the Sanctuary to let loose those emotions? He could understand her wanting to do so when the place was empty—she was one of the group ‘moms’ and thus felt the need to be in charge, to have control of herself at all times. To be the voice of reason (even if she sometimes was as bad as the rest of them when it came to pranks and snarking at each other) and keep a level head when others were letting their own anger or sadness get the better of them.

She was the rock that many of the Knuckleses—him included—relied on to keep them sane and grounded. She was the one they leaned on when their feelings were too big, their thoughts too heavy.

But now that he thought about it, who was her rock? Who helped her when she was sad or angry or otherwise feeling like she was getting lost in her own head? When she felt like a great weight had settled on her shoulders, and it was slowly crushing her, little by little?

Maddie had her husband. Dread had met him once or twice, he seemed a decent enough bloke, for the most part. Kinda straight-laced. A bit boring. But devoted to his family. Supportive. That kinda thing.

But Callie didn’t have a mate. She was alone, raising her two boys (and dealing with a multitude of Knuckleses) by herself. There was someone—Wayne? Wyatt? Dread had met him once or twice, too. Reminded him a bit of Gnarly, to be honest. And the man seemed to have a bit of a soft spot for Callie, but the lass never mentioned anyone in terms of a romantic-type of interest. It was just her. All alone.

Who did Callie have to lean on?

Dread tossed the hair tie in the air, catching it in a fist as he turned and headed back toward the kitchen area. He tucked the tie into his pocket as he dug in a drawer, pulling out a well-worn brush. It was one she used to help calm and soothe many a Knux—yes, him included—and he picked out what quills and fur was stuck in the bristles as he headed toward the quiet room door.

His fist hovered for a moment. Should he knock? What if she refused to let him in? Would he simply go in anyway, thereby showing her that he didn’t respect her wishes?

Then again, how many times did she sit with an upset Knuckles, even when they thought they wanted to be alone? Wasn’t this the same situation?

But maybe that was different. She had come to the Sanctuary specifically when (she thought) there were no others around. Didn’t that mean she truly wanted to be alone?

A little frustrated huff left his lips. All this thinking and over thinking wasn’t productive. Dread was better when he listened to his gut and just acted, and didn’t waste a lot of time wondering and worrying if that was the right thing to do.

So he went with his gut.

Dread dropped his hand, resting it on the door handle and giving it a gentle push. He poked his head into the room, catching sight of a blanket covered lump on the couch, and a pair of glasses sitting on the table to the left. “Lass?”

The lump shifted, as though the person beneath curled tighter. “Go away.”

Instead, Dread moved into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “C’mon, lass. I be a captain. Ye can’t give me orders.”

A sigh, shaky and wet. “Just go away. Please.”

Dread flinched. He’d never heard Callie sound so . . . weak. So defeated. So utterly broken.

He moved closer, holding the brush tightly in one hand. Suddenly this didn’t seem to be the best idea. But, good idea or not, Dread was committed. “Thought ye may need a brushin’. T’ help soothe whatever’s gotcha all . . .” He gestured toward her, even if she couldn’t see it. “Like this.”

She didn’t respond. The blanket pulled tighter, and she scooted toward the back of the couch. Dread had an idea she was lying on her side, facing the back, and simply wanted to wedge herself in as tight as she could to feel safe.

“C’mon, lass,” he said again, moving closer. “Talk t’ me.”

Another sigh, but this one harsher. “I came here because I didn’t want to talk to anyone, Dread. Leave me alone.”

Dread cocked an eyebrow. Anger. Okay. He could deal with that.

“Oh, that’s quite th’ double standard ye got there,” he said, moving to the couch and hopping onto it, by where he assumed her feet were. “How many times did ye make me talk when I said I didn’t want to? Jus’ plopped yerself right down an’ did that thing where ye prodded an’ questioned an’ dragged me thoughts outta me head anyway.”

A little growl answered him, and she flipped the blanket off enough so she could sit up and shoot him a glare. Her hair was a mess—a tangled mop of red—and she wiped at the tears on her cheeks.

“If this is how you felt when I did that then I’m sorry to have bothered you!” she hissed, right before her foot shot out and kicked him off the couch. “Get lost, echidna. Let me wallow in my patheticness in peace.” Then she rolled back over, pulling the blanket back over her head.

Dread hit the floor with a startled cry. Okay, that had been unexpected. He’d seen her angry before—her temper flared on occasion, and they’d had a few screaming matches—but he’d never seen her like this.

“Okay,” he said, pushing himself back to his feet. “We’re doin’ it like this, are we?”

Without giving her a chance to respond, Dread dropped the brush and took two handfuls of the blanket. With one quick motion he gave a pull, yanking it free and bringing her with it. She rolled, landing on the floor with a smack.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she spat, moving to sit with her back against the front of the couch. Dread uttered a sharp laugh.

“Me? What th’ hell be wrong with ye?” He moved to stand before her, hands on hips and an angry glare in his eye. “The lass I know wouldn’t wallow in self-pity. She doesn’t mope ‘neath a blanket. She faces trouble head on an’ back straight. What happened t’ her?”

Callie heaved a sigh, pulling her legs in to hug and resting her forehead on her knees. “Maybe she’s tired of being the one everyone runs to. Maybe she’s sick of being in charge. Maybe the rock everyone else relies on just needs some time to break once in a while.”

The anger drained from Dread at her words, at the soft, tired tone she spoke in. His thoughts from before came back to him. Who did Callie have to lean on?

It would seem the answer is no one.

Dread sighed.

That just wouldn’t do.

“C’mere.” Dread picked up the brush, moving to climb onto the couch behind her. “Let ol’ Dread take care o’ that rats nest ye call hair, aye?”

She didn’t respond for a long moment, instead keeping her head resting on her knees. Dread sat behind her, giving her the time she needed. His anger had drawn hers out, breaking through the initial wall of self-pity she’d put up earlier. Now he would wait, and let her reach out when she was comfortable.

A little smile curled his lips at that. Oh how the tables had turned.

After a moment, Callie let out a long sigh, lifting her head and brushing her long, tangled hair behind her, where he could reach it. He didn’t speak, opting to simply begin gently dragging the brush through her mane, moving slowly so as not to tug.

When the brush refused to move through some of the more difficult areas, Dread paused to pull off his gloves. His claws worked better through the tougher knots, and he used them to pick apart the worst offenders. He occasionally reached higher to gently scrape her scalp, making her shiver slightly from the sensation.

“Talk t’ me.” His voice was soft, his hands never stopped moving. “C’mon, lass. Get it off yer chest.”

She let out another sigh, lowering her head slightly, her fingers fiddling with the hem of the blanket. When she spoke, her voice was soft and quiet, like a child who was telling their deepest secret, their most hidden fear.

“It’s just hard sometimes.”

“What is?”

“Everything. Being the one responsible for making money, and paying bills, and taking care of the boys and the house and you guys and keeping the library running and dealing with the hundred little things that come up every day . . .” She pushed out another sigh, this one sounding more tired. “It’s like a bucket filling up, and every now and then, I just need to . . . empty it, I guess.”

“An’ ye have no one t’ lean on when it gets t’ be too much for ye.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. He knew it was true, just as much as she did. Saying it out loud would make it even more true, and she was enough like him that she didn’t want to do that.

“I come here because time moves differently,” she said, her voice still soft. “It’s essentially like hitting the pause button on my regular life. I come, get my little breakdown out of the way, and then go back to do it all over again.”

“That ain’t no way t’ live, lass.” He shook his head, working the last knot from her hair. “Ye deserve better ‘n that.”

She pulled her shoulders up in a shrug. “It is what it is.”

“Don’t make it right.”

“It’s the hand I was dealt. You know better than anyone that life isn’t always easy, or fair.”

He supposed that was true. His own childhood was evidence enough that bad things happened to innocent people—children, even—and you had to learn to deal with it before it killed you.

Still, what she was dealing with wasn’t exactly the same. She wasn’t fighting to survive—not in a literal sense, anyway—but she was breaking under all the weight she carried. And she carried it all herself, because she had no one to share the burden with.

But it didn’t have to be that way.

“Ye c’n always reach out, ye know,” he said, turning back to the brush once all the knots were worked through. He dragged it down her hair, his hand running behind to smooth any stray strands. “Don’t have t’ face everything all on yer lonesome.”

“Everyone else has their own problems,” she said, and to Dread it sounded like an automatic response. Something she convinced herself of long ago. “They don’t need to deal with mine, too.”

“Aye, an’ ye have yer own problems,” he said, smoothing the final part of her hair. “Don’t need t’ deal with everyone else’s, too.” He paused, a little smirk curling his lip as he leaned to the side to look at her. “But ye do.”

She cast him a side eye, a little blush rising to her cheeks. The smirk on Dread’s face widened until it was a smile. Looking like this—the blush, her hair down, and no glasses—made her look so different than he’d ever seen her. More vulnerable. Less like a headstrong lass who could take on the world, and more like one who needed protection from it. Even if just for a little while.

“That’s different.”

“No it ain’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“Why?”

She gave a little shrug, turning her face away. “It just is.”

The smile faded from Dread’s lips when she turned away, and a little furrow appeared in his brow. Did she honestly not see that letting others help her was no different than her helping them? She wasn’t that stubborn was she?

He gave a little eye roll. Of course she was that stubborn. That’s why they got along so well.

The smile returned as he gave his head a little shake. He planted his hand flat on the top of her head, turning her back to face him.

“Ye wanna know what I think?” he asked, casting a cocked eyebrow. “I think ye convinced yerself askin’ f’r help be a sign o’ weakness. An’ if’n there be one thing the mighty Callie MacPherson hates, it be t’ show herself as weak. She likes t’ be strong. Likes t’ show care t’ others, but be so damn bad ‘bout acceptin’ it f’r herself. Lookit her now, gone all blushin’ an’ turnin’ away at the barest amount o’ care. Even from a nasty, smelly ol’ pirate such as meself.”

She stared at him, her blue-green eyes locked with his violet. He smiled wider, a chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“An’ now she be speechless,” he snickered, releasing her head and moving his hand down to caress her cheek with his knuckles, and tuck her hair behind her ear. “No doubt thinkin’ what a strikin’ specimen of a man be sittin’ b’side her. A man the likes o’ which she ain’t never seen b’fore. A pow’rful man, a fine fig’re of a man, one who makes her feel things she never—“

Callie snorted out a laugh, reaching forward to shove his face away. Dread responded with a laugh of his own, leaning back to rest against the back of the couch.

“You little dork,” she said, scooting herself around to lean her side against the couch. “Ruining my perfectly good pity party.”

Dread chuckled again, leaning forward to rest his weight on one arm. The color was still in her cheeks, but the heavy air around her had dissipated. Even without her glasses and her hair out of that signature braid, she looked more like the lass he knew.

“Turnabout be fair play, me lovely lass,” he said, dropping a wink. “There be plenty o’ times ye spoiled me rotten mood. All with yer kind heart an’ clever words.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Since when has the legendary Captain Dread ever cared about playing fair?”

He gave her a little smirk. “The legendary Captain Dread c’n play fair, so long as the legendary Captain Dread still gets the result he wants in the end.” The smirk melted into a more sincere smile. “An’ in this case, seein’ ye smile be worth every second of it.”

Her cheeks burned hotter at that, and he gave another chuckle. Despite outward appearances, Dread was actually one of the more engaging of the Knuckleses, and knew his way around a compliment. Yes, violence was a quick way to get what he wanted, but sometimes charming someone was more discreet, easier, and more fun.

But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t sincere in what he said now. While he hadn’t been serious in his flirting, he always enjoyed making her smile.

“My, my,” she said, giving him a little smirk back. “Dread actually has a heart. And cares about others. Wait ‘til the rest of the Sanctuary hears this.”

“Lies. I’ll deny everythin’. No one will ever believe ye. Think ye’re off yer rocker. The lass has lost it! Oh, ‘twere a shame, aye, it were. Bet Cyber may want t’ run tests on ye. Examine yer brain ‘r somethin’.”

She snickered. “Oh, good point. Guess I oughta keep this little chat to myself, lest I ruin your reputation, and my street cred for being, you know, sane.”

They shared a laugh, allowing the serious nature of the situation fade. This was something Dread really enjoyed. They poked at each other, tossed barbs and insults and snark like it was their job, but in the end their bond was different than either had with any other Knuckles. More sibling-esque.

He’d never admit it, but she was the only person whose opinion of him mattered.

A comfortable silence settled over them, and she rested her elbow on the couch, perching her head in her hand. She sighed, looking back to him with a little smile.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft. “For not going away.”

Dread matched her smile, giving his head a little shake. “Never. Ye be stuck with me. So quit bein’ so damn stubborn an’ jus’ ask f’r help when ye need it, aye?” He leaned forward, bringing their foreheads together. “Ye lean on me when ye need. I be strong enough f’r the both of us. Ye jus’ call, an’ I’ll come runnin’. Ye have me word on that.”

It was an odd thing to hear come out of his own mouth. For so long he’d been only interested in his own wants, his own needs and desires. Even after the Prism Shard incident, he felt disconnected from the rest of the crew. It had taken a while to overcome those feelings of greed and selfishness. Of possessive obsession.

But now, he was different. Part of something bigger. His crew, the Sanctuary, the other, well, hims . . . they all helped him understand who he was. It felt good to finally receive kindness and love and support.

And it felt even better to offer it.

“Thank you, you smelly little pirate,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Even though I wanna feed you your hat some days, I still love ya.”

“Aye, ye be a right pain in my backside most days,” he said, and she snickered. “But ye’ve wormed yer way int’ me heart.”

They sat with their foreheads touching for another moment, before pulling back. Callie gave him a little look, that smirk back on her face.

“How ‘bout we go and finish off the rest of those cookies? ‘Cause I know that’s what you were doing earlier.”

Dread gave a dramatic gasp. “Lass! Ye offend me.”

“I doubt it.”

He tried to keep his offended expression, but her gaze made him break character. He snickered, nodding.

“Aye, ye got me. They be so good, I couldn’t resist ‘em.” He cast her a sly look. “There be plenty t’ share.”

She gave him an identical look back. “Assuming I don’t beat you there and get ‘em first.”

They stared each other down for a moment, before Callie grabbed her glasses and made a break for the kitchen. Dread laughed as he sprinted after her.

In the end, Dread’s original desire to snatch away all the cookies for himself was replaced with the urge to share them with a friend as they sat and talked. They agreed to regular check-ins, under the guise of a free meal for the pirate, and that unspoken promise to be there for each other strengthened.

As they argued their right to the last cookie, Dread couldn’t help but marvel at how his life had turned around. Treasure was no longer the only thing on his mind. Right now, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be, than right here.

[ner0scum]

tf is wrong with my twitter fyp why's it showing me verified checkmarks spitting out their political beliefs i'm here to look at cool ass art elon

[ethernetmeep]

realizing before i fall asleep how ive made another routine of sleeping next to this frog plushie ive had for a few years.. it was up in my closet for awhile. took it down one day recently (probably less than a week or so ago) cause i felt bad for how it didnt get as much love as the plushies on my bed.. then proceeded to fall asleep with it next to me one day, and now i hang onto it rather tightly as i fall asleep…

its weird, cause i hate when other people touch me sometimes yet i love giving hugs; i remember as a kid dreading cuddles or forced hand holding because i would feel forced (well duh doy, if its forced hand holding of course you would feel forced.. i know, i know.) squished. trapped. even now, i’m very hesitant. i think with the right people i enjoy it though. it just varies..

it also depends how im doing. i know when i get overwhelmed or overstimulated i really dont wanna be touched at all, dead regardless of who it may be. i cant explain why. its just an instinctual sort of reaction? kinda like when you touch that very specific species of plant i forgot the name of, and how you can touch their leaves and they react and retract and close in on themselves.. thats kinda what my body does. closes in on itself because i really do not want to be touched right now. i know that happened a bit on saturday

[antirepurp]

i hadn't aligned one set of UVs correctly and that fixed the mirroring. ngl i Am a little tempted to adjust this further to make it a bit more prominent but hey yippee for me cracking open this bitch of a model finally!!

[timmydraker]

Tim begins to distance himself from his family after Damian becomes Robin.

It was obvious in the way he ran off to rescue Bruce, but that was more of a physical thing at the end of the day. He was desperate and had lost any kind of safety net and support he had after Dick threatened Arkham and how badly he hurt Alfred with his instance that Bruce was alive.

Either way he was going to get Bruce back, if not because he felt like he was an aimless, nothing human being without Batman then there was that he wanted to be believed.

Then Dick handed over Robin to Damian who at that point genuinely despised Tim, though there was also a level of jealously in the young Wayne’s mind at the intelligence and analytical Tim.

It was then that Tim decided he would bring Bruce back and then do his own thing, outside of Robin and outside of Batman.

He clearly had done his job hadn’t he? Sure Bruce was dead, but Dick was acting as Batman and that Batman had a Robin, so his reasoning for being Robin was extinguished.

Tim brings Bruce back and the older man praises and thanks him for several days and then, like everything else, the attention moves away. It goes to him connecting with Damian on a vigilante level and catching up on the last several months of him being ‘dead’. It goes to Jason who, now that he’s lost his foster father has decided that maybe he could try a little harder after all.

It goes to everyone and anyone other than Tim and this time? That’s actually the plan.

Tim isn’t as good of a hacker as Barbara, but she’s basically a god at it so compared to others he might as well be master level, just not against her. This he uses to shift around peoples schedules so Alfred has no choice but to let him go to school on his own (Tim may have also invented an early morning ‘club’ that was totally legit and not at all a fabrication). He makes it so when Dick is over or Jason takes the rare opportunity to visit he had to work at WE or DI, something important he can’t neglect.

He never has to walk Ace or Titus because he’s busy with his team mates.

Team mates who think he’s busy helping out Batman.

Tim still does work as a hero, but it’s entirely through his businesses after a while. A few times he has no choice but to go out in a boring black suit with a full face mask and hoodie. It’s got nothing on it, no symbols or gadgets. Nothing to connect him to anyone.

He starts with the homeless, dishing out vaccines like candy without even doing a campaign to showcase it.

Then he changes Bruce’s rather naive approach to orphanages and makes it so every single child who is put through is given a small amount of funding. He makes it so kids have more chance to stay with siblings, makes sure everyone who even so much as enters the ground of a orphanage have a real background check and sure the adoption rate drops, but so does the missing kids and DV cases.

Tim steals over fifty million from people like Luther and Penguin and all kinds of corrupt rich assholes for the majority of the funding and not even a cent of it is traced back to Wayne or Drake businesses. Whiles he’s digging into Lex be manages to get enough evidence to put a sizeable dent in his reputation, even if Lex manages to smooch a fair bit of it back.

He’s manages to take out a large sized trafficking ring and helps get the victims into a real recovery home that he hand picks out security for.

Later, as in a few days afterward, he discovers a dog meat farm and everyone medical veterinary student suddenly finds themself free of student loans and debt and with multiple work opportunities available and volunteer work being down right pleased for.

Tim knows he’s being noticed but given that he basically lives in his office in the heart of the city, he isn’t there to hear his old teammates and ‘family’ talk about the mysterious Dread.

Dread who was named that after a report came out about a theory of an unknown hacker or ‘cyber vigilante’ who was stealing money and information from rich folk and giving it to the poor, giving all of the 1% dread that he would hit them next.

The exact quote was ‘Those with money deeper than their pockets dread the hackers next moves. And they should feel that dread as a warning for this Robin Hood like legend seems to be getting braver.’

Dick was sure the hacker would have been called Robin if he hadn’t chosen that name already, to which Barbara responded with grumbles and growl because she couldn’t find anything other than holes and traps left by the hacker. It was like they knew her every move before she even made it!

Tim, obvious to his growing reputation until it fully took off, hadn’t even considered that his actions would be framed a threat by Batman. He would say it was because he didn’t think Bruce would ever really target him like that, but in actuality it’s because he knew Bruce was one of the few good rich folk. Surely he would be on the side of a secret vigilante hacker trying to use horrible people to do good? He embraced Dread quickly and was happy he make the rich squirm and brought a sense of hope to people, it was just like Robin but instead of them being safe and given light they were given a peace of mind in a mix of revenge and justice.

What Tim doesn’t know is that Bruce is still too far into his whole image of black and white, good and evil, that he tends to forget there’s grey areas.

At least Jason is on the side of Dread, even if he still thinks the myth of a story is just that, a myth.

It’s when Tim blows up a bank when everyone has gone home for the night just so people will find the underground money ring that and he visits the manner to get a few things that he hears them talking about it.

By that point it’s been around two years since he dropped Robin and as usual Dick always greets him with a look of a desperate puppy, “Tim! Hi, you’re here. I haven’t seen you in months, how have you been?”

Tim smiles at Dick even if he hasn’t gotten over his anger at his oldest brother and moves to sit at the breakfast table with everyone (Alfred, Bruce, Jason and Damian).

“Good. Busy, we’ve had a lot of donations lately.”

Jason snorts, “No shit. Isn’t Wayne Enterprise one of the few ones not hit by Dread?”

Bruce grumbles and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. They’ve managed to get into our system and completely changed the Jason Project.”

Jason grins and laughs happily, “you mean improved! Crime Ally is doing great now. Not the best, but still a fuck of a lot better.”

Smiling at the man who once beat him to an inch of his life, Tim takes a sip of his tea and casually says, “You’re welcome.”

The whole table goes quiet as Tim continues to casually sip his tea.

The silence carries for a total minute before Bruce puts down his cup and leans forward with a slight growl in his voice, “Explain.”

“Explain what?”

Bruce stands over his son even from halfway down the table and very obviously tries to calm himself with a deep breath, “What do you mean ‘you’re welcome’?”

Tim makes an ‘oh’ expression before cocking his head to the side in confusion, “I was the one who fixed the Jason Project? Wait, did you guys not realise I’m Dread?”

Damian shouts out a ‘what?!’ That makes Titus jump and Tim laughs under his breath, “What did you think I was doing?”

“Running the business! Not stealing from people and black mailing politicians!”

It’s Tim’s turn to growl now and he stands up himself with a glare at Bruce that is as close as any of them have gotten to the famed Bat-Glare, “Are you fucking kidding me? Like are you a Tully kidding me with that horse shit?”

Bruce looks stunned and Alfred doesn’t even tell him not to swear.

Tim slams his chair into the table.

“What the fuck else would I be doing, Bruce? I’m not Robin, that was taken from me, so what else was I gonna do? I finished my job, not only keeping you from killing anyone but bringing you back, so I had do pick something else. I’m not stealing from the rich, I’m stealing from selfish cunts who ruin peoples lives for no reason and giving it to people like Jason. So, don’t you fucking yell at me and don’t try to make me feel bad for this, not when I’ve done more in two years than you ever have and- don’t you fucking speak Dick, not when you were the one who took my place here away from me! Now, I have a trafficking ring I need to expose so good. Fucking. Day.”

Jason is the only one who follows him.

[bloodvampyr]

(x)

[cybergirl2006]

Source

[null-entity]

Lets go do crimes!

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Photographer: The Remote Camera Trigger.

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[scripture-digital]

POWAH, POWAH, POWAH, POWAH! Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous lox! The only style mankind needs...

[izzabela]

Can I request bi han x fem reader.

Reader is sent on a mission in Russia and bi han misses her,sektor tells him to get a phone so it'll be easy to communicate and y/n introduces him to phone sex and they have phone sex.

New Things - Bi Han x fem!reader

in which you introduce Bi Han to something new while away on a mission

a/n: Bi Han with a phone is a crazy idea- i like it

ship[s]: bi han x fem!reader

warning(s): MDNI, porn with semi-plot, phone sex, f!reader = f!genitalia, masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, post-kanon story

"He- Hel- Hello? Bi Han?" you voice called, breaking slightly over the phone.

Bi Han put the device close to his ear, your voice finally patching through his phone. He smiles, the only witnesses of this soft act being the walls of his bedroom. He coughs before answering you.

"I can hear you, darling," he responds. "How do you find Russia? Have you eaten yet? Is the mission going well?"

You chuckle at the onslaught of questions, "Cold, but not as cold as home, yes I ate already, and the mission is going decent."

Bi Han sighs, "Good, I am glad you are alright."

Bi Han originally didn't have a phone, hell he was opposed to such devices. He caved after you were gone for a mission a couple months back, and the letter he wrote you was intercepted by the enemy. It was also Sektor's idea, he even accompanied Bi Han in choosing one.

Now, here he was, talking to you over the phone while you were oceans away. Elder gods, what a sight to behold, the grandmaster using technology.

"And you, my dear, is there anything to note back home?" you ask. Bi Han groans as he relays the struggles you were missing out on.

From setbacks to the coding of the cyber-ninjas, to even more dreadful losses with this brotherly war, Bi Han was having a hard time dealing with these setbacks. It was uncharacteristic of him, since he's usually more calculated and put together.

"You sound stressed, my dear," you mention, twirling your hair as get in the bed of the hotel you were staying in. You hear Bi Han sigh over your end of the phone.

"You are greatly missed here, none more so than by me," Bi Han says softly, and you coo at the vulnerability he displayed.

"I also wish I were home," you respond solemnly. It's quiet over the line, the light breathing filling the silence.

That is, until a light bulb is lit in your mind. It's a little risky, but it isn't entirely a bad thing. Just to blow off some steam.

"Darling, would you like to relax?" you ask, but Bi Han is perplexed as he answers you.

"I am unwinding just fine with you on the phone."

You tut him, clicking your tongue as you clarify yourself. Apparently, subtly in words was not his strongest trait.

"Would you like try phone sex?" you blurt out. It's quiet on your end, Bi Han not saying a thing for a couple of beats.

"...What exactly is that?" he asks, his voice sounding lost and confused. You then explain that it would just be them on the phone, whispering dirty things about themselves as they touched themselves rather inappropriately.

TLDR, a horny way to unwind the stress of missing each other.

"I see," is all Bi Han says. "I do not know how to start, though."

You chuckle, "Remaining ever so honest, grandmaster. Do not be worried, though, I can lead us."

You strip down into nothing, putting your phone on speaker as you lay comfortably in your bed. Bi Han still remains in his sleepwear, but he can see that his member is growing erect as the minutes pass.

"For starters, it must feel rather lonely in bed without me," you begin, your voice a little breathy. Bi Han sighs, palming his growing erection as he responds.

"It is, it pains me that you are so far. I cannot hold nor touch you." Bi Han sets his phone down after indulging you, on speaker mode as well so he has... a better range of motion.

"I have only my thoughts to keep me company," you admit, slowly rolling your breasts in your hands.

"Do tell me what you think about when I am not present," Bi Han eggs you with a teasing voice.

"I, uh," you stutter. "I think of how you tease nipples. Your fingers always squeeze them the way I like." Bi Han groans a bit.

"Touch them as I do, then," he tells you, palming his rock-hard dick. "To let you know, I miss the way you stroke me, my dear."

Bi Han gave up on his pants and boxers. His dick was hard and free from its fabric prison, and he was going in constant strokes to mimic the way you did. Bi Han grunts as he touches himself, pumping his dick in his fist as he heard your breath over the phone.

If the wetness between your legs were relayed to a leaky pipe, you were practically bursting at this point. You moan at the though of his hand pumping his cock, trying to emulate your touch. It filled you with pride knowing you left such an impression on him.

You reach down in between your legs, rubbing the wet folds as you imagine your fingers as Bi Han's length. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slips through and Bi Han catches your poor attempt of hiding your voice.

"Do not be shy, my darling," Bi Han says breathlessly. "Let me hear you. Touching yourself as you think of me, in and out of your tightness."

Bi Han was getting into it now. Still keeping his constant strokes, he imagines your body on top of him. Visages of your perky nips in his face, your voice bouncing off the walls of the shared room. He can imagine the marks on his back, a great side effect on how well he dicks you down.

For you, you stuck a finger in your wet cunt. Just like Bi Han, you pump the digit in and out of you at a good speed. It hits your good spot perfectly, and the moans you had been so desperate to hide come through and enter Bi Han's ear. He's smirking, and he pumps a little faster.

"Can you hear that? Though you are so far, you still manage to please me," Bi Han's voice is sultry and deep, praising you a job well done (so far).

"Are you this degenerate when you are away?" Bi Han's tone shifts, and it shocks you a little bit. "Touching yourself, desperate to relieve yourself- disgusting."

By the elder gods, he was really leaning into this phone sex business. As much as you want to deny it, you can't help but moan and agree with his degradation of you. Yes, you missed him. Yes, you touched yourself on those occasions where the longing was too much.

You stop yourself and add another finger inside yourself, curling it slightly to hit your g-spot even better. You moan louder, and Bi Han takes it as a sign to go faster in his fist. He's grunting a little louder, and through your ecstasy you can hear a couple of shaky exhales of his breath.

"By the gods, I can just imagine it," Bi Han says breathlessly. "Your fingers won't be enough, not when I have marked you, molded you... made you mine."

You gasp at how dirty his words have become. Gods, he was immersed, and your bodily response was to get even more wet. Practically soaking the sheets underneath you, you respond to the claims Bi Han was acclaiming.

"Yes grandmaster! You've molded me so well- I am yours wholly!"

As you keep pumping yourself, your hand that was previously on your tit is on your pleasuring yourself two-fold as you focus on reaching your high. Bi Han is huffing and puffing now, his hand going up and down as he also chases his peak.

"Very good. Keep the thought of my length as you come," Bi Han says. "Your warmth is all I can think about- I even squeeze my fist to think of how you squeeze around me."

The mention of it makes you squeeze around your fingers, and that was the last sensory necessity for you to zone in on cumming. The feeling of your fingers rubbing your clit, your other fingers going in and out of your tight cunt, and the gentle squeeze to give you more friction, it's sending you over the edge.

Bi Han has a gentle tightness around his cock. He's trying to imagine you squeezing around him, and it works as he can feel his high coming. The thoughts of your body bouncing up and down his cock, your moans ringing in his ears, and the little squelches he can hear from the speaker, send Bi Han into overdrive.

"B-Bi Han!" you cry out. "I- oh gods, I'm close!" Bi Han just grunts in response, muttering under his breath as he's about to peak.

"Bi Han!" you cry out, literally squeaking as your legs twitch and shake as your body begins to relax from your climax. You're breathless, hands damp with your slick, and your body dripping with sweat.

Bi Han also climaxes, calling your name as strings of translucent white coming out. They land on his lower stomach and thighs. His chest heaves up and down, yearning for air as he comes down from his high. He's sticky with sweat, extra sticky near his penile area, and his hand has a bit of his own slickness too.

He reaches for a tissue on his nightstand, and you do the same on the other side of the world. Over the phone, Bi Han can hear you shift on the bed, putting your clothes on and shuffling around the room to clean up. Bi Han is wrapping up his own clean-up operations, putting his clothes on before settling into bed.

"Bi Han darling?" you call for him through the phone. "Are you there?"

Bi Han grabs his phone, "Yes I am." It's a bit quiet before he speaks again. "Did you enjoy?"

You laugh heartily, "Of course! Who knew you were really good at this, my darling~" you drag out the "ing" sound, and he chuckles at your antics.

"Thank you for introducing this to me," he says, calling your name softly. Your face warms, and you can't tell if it's from the warmth of your phone.

"You're welcome, Bi Han. Perhaps we can do this again when I have more time," you offer.

"Finish up the mission, and we won't need to do this over the phone." That's all Bi Han says before he drops an "I love you" and hangs up.

The call drops, and you sleep with motivation to come home.

=====================

phone sex is... odd, but i did finish it. i hope you liked it anon!

still finishing up all my reqs, let's see if i can do it before school starts for me

see yall in the next fic!

[rain0tes]

Hacker!reader lowkey reminds me of silverwolf from hsr 👁️

How would an interaction between hacker!reader and Lucifer go? I imagine they'll share the same type of dry humor while they both rant about their hyperfxations to each other

Lucifer Morningstar x gn!hacker!reader

(wow my first ask! yippee!)

You're so right about that, Anon, these two would yap for hours non stop. The post Anon is referring to is (here).

Intended to be platonic but can be viewed as romantic.

Lucifer and hacker!reader (nicknamed Cyber for convenience) would go on for hours just talking about anything and everything that comes to mind.

Everyone else in the hotel would not be able to catch up with the conversation due to how fast you two would jump from one topic to another (maybe Charlie since she's just as hyperactive).

"Did you know that ducks can see almost 360 degrees around them?"

"Kinda like a radar?"

"Yeah but with feathers!"

"Oh, neat. Did you know that they made duck shaped keyboard keycaps?"

The most wholesome and chaotic duo to ever exist in hell.

You two aren't always just yapping, though. After a while of staying at the hotel, you two become comfortable enough to just silently sit in each others presence. You two are bored with nothing better to do, the existential dread of "eternity" in hell finally catching up to you, filling in the silence.

But hey, at least you two are bored together.

You make him think that some sinners aren't that bad. The only "sin" that you committed was upsetting the human government which is pretty badass in his opinion.

Morally speaking, you weren't even bad either, you just liked causing a bit of chaos whenever and when you compare that to the more trigger happy sinners in hell, you seem like an angel.

You would convince him to pull pranks on the other residents of the hotel with you. He'd agree because they're usually pretty harmless. (He would agree on pranking Alastor even if it was harmful, though.)

Develops this sort of dependency on you. You're one of the few sinners in hell that are actually kind of normal and also one of the only people (that's not Charlie) that he can be completely comfortable with.

Gets upset once you tell him about your deal with Alastor and even goes as far as persuading you to call it off. You shouldn't make deals with that shady guy! And besides, Lucifer can protect you better than he ever could.

(masterlist)