#fucking cassandra has nothing on me

[bacchuschucklefuck]

dreaming abt sophomore year class swap bard!riz

[mbat]

i yet again do NOT understand why people think that what happened to steven in future came out of nowhere. the main show beats it into the ground how fucked up all this stuff has him! just cause he ends the main show in a good place doesnt mean that everything was solved! he solved the gem stuff but not himself, that was the whole point!

like. those people show that they didnt even pay attention to the show AND they dont understand trauma. like. shut the fuck up !!!!

[parker-artio]

Bruce Wayne is super good with little kids and babies- like scarily good with them. Sure, he’s got six kids of his own and even a few honorary children, but all of them came at a point when he didn’t need to know that. None of them were in diapers, they knew how to get dressed themselves, how to communicate their wants and needs, ect. They were old enough to not need to know the baby, toddler, pre-school/early-school, time period stuff.

But Bruce knows how to do that stuff. He knows how to change a diaper, how to give a baby a bottle, how to help a kid get dressed, how to make a kid understand their decisions, ect. He’s good at it too. No one knows how he knows this. Not even Alfred. Bruce plans to taking this to the grave, no one will know, and he hopes no one find out.

But there is one person who knows- well a small group of people who know, and that’s a group of young women who have kids all about 9 to 10 years younger than Dick. (Around the same age as Tim and Stephanie.) The only reason they know is because they learned it with him.

Bruce was young, impulsively adopted a young kid who he saw himself in and when he finally realized what he did. But he couldn’t stop it, he’s grown attached to the kid already. So he did the only rational thing. He looked up ‘Parenting Classes for New Young Parents’ and he got very few results. But that was probably on him for being so vague. He goes to the first class and immediately realizes his mistake. The class he picked was for young expecting mothers. Or young mothers who just had their baby’s. Not for 8 year olds.

Obviously the ladies were surprised to see Bruce fucking Wayne at a parenting class. He was older than some of them, younger than other of them, but what they all knew is that this was Bruce Wayne. He had a reputation. So what does Bruce do?

He plays along- obviously.

The Teacher (literally shitting bricks): Hi… how about we all go around and introduce ourselves?

No one goes forth all still just a bit stunned.

Bruce (also shitting bricks and trying to make a cover story on the spot): Hello, my name is Bruce Wayne… you probably knew that, but I’m here to learn about how to care for a baby. You never know with me.

One of the other ladies: Best to learn early!

All of those ladies have a cover story on how they met Bruce Wayne, none of them will actually admit it, especially since after all of the classes were over he revealed to have taken in a kid who was already about 10 years old. They immediately realized why he looked so confused walking into the class the first day. No one knows. But that small group of ladies. Bruce might recognize one of them out in public and greet her by name, and they’d do the same back.

So when Batman find a baby after a wide scale attack and knows how to care for it- before any of the other Justice League members can- they don’t ask any question’s. Hell he looks scarier taking care of the baby than he does when he’s all moody and brooding.

[franollie]

i dont see them as often anymore but there used to be a lot of posts about bruce being a good dad to cass/going to see her dance recitals/general fanon batdad stuff. aside from the occasional post from the “im a comic fan but i refuse to read comics” crowd, a lot of these posts seemed to be made by people who knew what they were talking about, and just wanted to see more cass. so, i know they came from a place of love. that being said, something’s always felt off about those posts and i think the biggest reason is because bruce isn’t cass’s dad. batman is. sure when the mask is off, it’s still her dad, but thats only because batman is who bruce is more than bruce is who he is. does that make sense? idk theres something about the way cass says batman and it means father but it also is bruces name more than bruce ever was.

[risetherivermoon]

i have never wanted willy stampler more dead in my life.

CASSANDRA MY WIFE GET BEHIND ME 😭

[jewishcissiekj]

having a lot of fun reading generation x and x-force rn but magneto war just happened and we aren't talking about genosha can we talk about genosha pleaseeeeeee

[promptcorner]

WELL.

I can’t NOT reblog this!

I mean, all of them are ready to give Vicky an exclusive about how sweet their stepdad Batman is.

Steph writes BatBruce fanfics on AO3 because SHE WOULD.

[mostly-imagines]

Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”

[yameoto]

kiramman motherdaughter double-team

tw; cassandra + caitlyn x f!reader, pussyfucking, voyeurism, masturbation, objectification, gagging, being passed around on kiramman cock, mommy issues, family dynamics, no incest unless you count their cum mixing inside you. wc; 2.8k

“my daughter is quite fond of you,” cassandra muses thoughtfully, like you’re not ass-up, pussy-clenched, bent over on the kiramman desk; two, slender, pale fingers elegantly fucking the juices out of your cunt.

while you’d love to engage in mommy gossip over tea, your pretty little head isn’t quite capable of doing more than blindly rut back against gloved fingers. even if your ears perk up at the mention.

“what does that—ngh— fuck—“

“language, darling.” cassandra slaps your cunt, hard. you hiss, arching back, traitorous pussy deciding it really fucking likes that, and sending a surge of wetness gushing out and dripping over her palm. you arch back, and the retort making its way out of your mouth is rudely interrupted by the way she deftly folds her fingers into a fist. quelled, you settle down, thighs still stinging.

"and i suppose—mmgh—she didn’t—hah.. tell you?”

“no, but i know.” cassandra hums, index hooking. your eyes roll back, as cassandra continues to muse. or, pretend to muse. you’ve been under her thumb long enough to know every twitch of her expression, every dip in her tone, every curl of her finger—is calculated, and intentional. “her gaze lingers."

“she doesn't mind that her mother takes home girls her own age?” you pant, squirming away from cassandra’s hand as she pinches your thigh.

“girl.”  cassandra corrects, gloved hand leisurely grasping you by the chin and pinning it upwards, to face her, unable to squirm away from the steely jade of her eyes. girl, singular. it’s nothing close to ooey-and-gooey affection, but the clarification makes your heart glow nonetheless, heat flooding to every buzzing cell in your body. it also makes you pathetically, impossibly wetter. cassandra smiles as you gush around her fingers, nerves humming under her touch.

“she wouldn’t. so long as i turn a blind eye to the unending stream of conquests she has in and out of her room.” cassandra sighs, flicking against your clit. you arch upwards off of satin sheets, thighs quivering—and cassandra only takes the opportunity to thrust her digits further upwards. you thrash, like puppet thrust upon a stick.

“takes after her mother,” you gasp, and her chuckle is a pinch less poised than usual. “suppose she does, hm?"

you cum all over her gloved fingers, silk soaked to the bone.

to be perfectly honest, you were only half-lucid during that whole affair. can you blame you? one can only concentrate so much when you’re being finger-fucked to oblivion on a councillor’s desk. you hadn’t thought much of cassandra’s words, or caitlyn’s supposed fascination in you. until, well—

“mother, i don't see what could have possibly warranted dragging me out of office just to—”

the moment you come into sight, caitlyn stops, mid-way through flicking the stub of a pen, up-and-down with boredom borne vigour. she’s draped over one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, head tilted back, elbow lent lazily over the side of the seat. she straightens, gaze flickering between you and her mother.

you stare at caitlyn. she stares back, alabaster-cut cheekbones flushing a dark-hued pink.

cassandra slinks into the other armchair, one leg draping elegantly over the other. “i told you it’d be worth the wait.” she teases, easily, superiority exuding out of her every pore. caitlyn is stock-still; a deer frozen in the headlights, because surely her mother can’t mean—

“look at her, darling.” cassandra beckons you closer, and you fall into step, obedient. her cryptic smile, widens—gloved hand outstretching, to skim the silken fabric up your thighs. her nail drags upwards, and both caitlyn and you visibly shiver. “hot, wet and inviting.”

caitlyn bites her lip, conflict playing out comically over her face, like a gargantuan tent isn’t rising at her crotch. for one, she loathes to concede any victory to her mother. on the other..

(gods, how caitlyn has wanted and wanted. it's shameful. she’s caught glimpses of you, throughout the estate, for the past year. flitting in and out, from her mother’s room—her office, sometimes. the thought should make her nose wrinkle and gaze avert, like it had done so, with all the other women her mother used to bring home. yet, you.

the pull you have is magnetic. perhaps, that’s why she hasn’t seen a single other verdant soul grace her mother’s bedsheets, since you. not that she makes a habit of peeking. it’s just—she’s wondered. she’s wondered, with her hand wrapped her dick and croons muffled by her sheets, how you’d feel around her cock, instead. because she swears that nightgown her mother lent you used to be hers, and the thought of it—skimming up your thighs, dampening against the hot flush of your cunt—

caitlyn is spry, young, quick-witted— and admittedly hormonal. she’s in the prime of her life, and the prime of her libido; too. deathly curious, too, what has made her mother come back to you—over and over and over again. what’s so special about you that you’ve made caitlyn cum into her fist, over and over again, despite never sparing her more than a second glance.)

“you can’t seriously expect me to..” caitlyn splutters, cheeks blooming red. “now? here? in front of you?”

“don’t act all shy, now. for a decorated enforcer, your sleuthing skills are lackluster."

caitlyn burns, bright-red. she's well-aware of the incident her mother is talking about. that was once. besides! she thought someone was being impaled on a stake, in there, for gods' sake. she’d almost brought the guards!

“besides," cassandra rolls her wrist, idly, "you think i’d let you handle precious goods unattended? you could break her.”

both you and caitlyn bristle; you, at the suggestion that you could be broken by this kiramman girl who is certainly fit, mind you—but break? really? caitlyn, at the dig at her self-restraint. through she’d probably smart at any barb her mother threw at her her.

“i can be delicate.” it’s like the implication is the nail in the coffin, and she’s undoing her trousers with exaggerated reluctance, like her fingers aren’t quivering in contained eagerness. “don’t look.” she demands of her mother, like a child slipping into the fitting room. the buckles of her enforcer uniform come undone, and a flash of inky-blue trim sends the hairs raising at the nape of your neck, especially when caitlyn’s fly falls away and her thighs splay open, hand curling around her base and tugging her dick out and—oh.

now, you understand why you might break.

caitlyn is.. well-endowed. (oh, cassandra is rubbing off on you in more ways than one). her length itself clean-shaven, like her mother—and the smooth, erect forth of her cock practically preens under the attention, blue-green veins climbing up its trunk. her tip is flushed a brilliant pink, and for all caitlyn’s feigned nonchalance; precum builds a shiny glaze at its slit, at the precipice of gushing out. she tucks her trousers below her balls, eyes flitting over to meet her mother’s, stare flaring to one of defiance.

caitlyn scowls, but you can't help but notice the shallow pace of her breath—the way her forearms tense, rapid fluttering beating at your chest. can't help but notice the way her cock throbs, tall and aching, and how she can't tear her eyes off of you.

“go on, dear.” cassandra urges, sly, and you startle, because you've almost gotten lost in being a passenger to the kiramman’s family squabbles—forgotten that for now, all you’re sinking onto her daughter’s cock. caitlyn gasps, hips jerking upwards.

she's hesitant, at first; rolling her hips, experimentally, and you suppress a gasp when her cock slips deeper, unintentionally. caitlyn grunts, and when she starts going she starts going, because—fuck—can you blame her? she gets lost in the ocean of your pussy, how it swallows her, and her mother is right. hot, wet, and inviting.

you can't deny you're enjoying this. each moan that caitlyn dislodges from your throat is even more encouragement for her dick to plunge deeper, length to stretch you wider. perhaps it’s unjust—but even as your head falls back and you whine in approval, shivers crackling down your body—you can't help but compare the two, just a little. (cassandra's motions have always been painstakingly controlled. each crook of a finger, curl of a knuckle, thrust of her cock; carefully poised, deliberate, and intentional. caitlyn, on the other hand—is fluid and freestyle and just a little sloppy. her ruts driving with a shaky force, like she's trying her damndest best to keep a rhythm but is trembling with the effort to hold on and not just plow into your cunt like a jackhammer. she's good. you can tell caitlyn has done this before, many times. just, perhaps not as many times, as her mother.)

"darling, posture." 

caitlyn freezes, balls-deep. her head lifts in gobsmacked disbelief at her mother's voice, hands remaining clamped down over your thighs, dick twitching. you stifle a mewl at the loss of friction.

"posture?"  caitlyn parrots, eyes narrowing, even as her back goes ramrod and shoulders square on instinct, like an automatic response to her mothers’ tone. then, annoyed at her own reaction, caitlyn thrusts, hard, as if to prove a point. the both of them ignore your subsequent whimper. “my posture is just fine, thank you very much.”

cassandra's nails drum against your collarbones, hand still carding through your hair. it takes everything in you not to nuzzle upwards into the offering, because you know cassandra despises your neediness. loves it, too. but you're not quite in the position to test how she feels, today.

“is it just fine, dear one?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, harshly, as caitlyn’s thrusts come in rhythmic slams, the other girl’s pants almost as uneven as your own. “i—nghhm—yes.”

“and is my daughter treating you well?”

caitlyn scoffs, but her hands tighten on your hips, nails digging crescent indents into skin. your eyes flicker open to meet caitlyn’s own, and you’re expecting to find that beautiful, forever, narrowed-eye glare of hers that is so instantly recognisable.

instead, what greets you is fawn-like cerulean; wide and imploring. approval-seeking, under her mother’s scrutiny—under your control. it’s like she’s holding her breath, even as the slams of her hips.

“ngh, caitlyn—“ you gasp, like a prayer, and the kiramman heir seems to dissolve at the sound of her name on your tongue, wobbling as she clings to your hips like she might just die if she were to be separated.

her throat bobs, and her hips shudder, a low groan wracking her body. and, and—

“don't finish.” cassandra interjects, command rolling off her tongue, firm and declarative, leaving no room for argument. “a little practice in self-control would be good for you.”

“mother,” caitlyn protests, elongated and pleading and irrestrainably whiney, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. her cheeks are blossomed red, flushed to the bone—strings of saliva connecting  the plump part of her lips as she ruts into you, grip bruising.

“don’t whinge.” cassandra admonishes, and caitlyn’s hiss is guttural, almost physically pained by the frustration—but she holds herself back nonetheless. “if you think i am having my daughter’s sloppy seconds, you think wrong.”

it’s as if the room has dropped in degrees. caitlyn, livid with the tension of what you can feel, drawn tight against the hot flush of your body. cassandra, whose gaze is as impenetrable and indomitable as ever. the both of them; cut-throat and frigid—like the meeting of stalagmites and stalactites, crashing into one another.

your pussy clenches, because gods, this is hot. caitlyn audibly lets slip a hiss, when your walls tighten around her poor, sensitive dick. it’s almost inevitable when she cracks, first. 

it’s that first twitch in her brow that waivers the white flag, and she her jaw tightens and her eyes go wild—before she forcibly wrenches herself out from you, eyes rolling back as her cock squelches free— promptly blows her load all over the carpet.

caitlyn folds to her knees, black-blue eyes peer upwards, both wounded and aggrieved; like the world has done her wrong by not having her cum inside of you. the way she’s positioned is almost heartstring wrenching—if it weren’t for how her hands curl around the base of her cock and she arches back and hisses, shamelessly jerking the rest of her high, off. thick, white spurts of cum splatter, some on the glossy wooden panels—but most on the carpet. carpet, worth some-twelve families’ fortunes and now marred by fat, creamy streaks of white, clinging to filaments that’ll indubitably harden come sunrise.

caitlyn pants, wiping spit with the back of her hand. her eyes meet her mother’s, satisfaction uncoiling in her gut, along with the leftovers drizzling from her tip.

“are you quite done?” cassandra exhales, as her daughter empties herself out over their living room floor.

“yes.” caitlyn says, petulant. her expression is as still as stone—yet anybody could see the smug gleam in her eye.(of course, a day doesn’t go past in piltover nowadays that that kiramman brat isn’t uttered. perhaps, the moniker has more truth to it than you’d thought.)

cassandra seems to torn whether this is the right time to discipline her daughter, though she doesn’t account for you and your incessant neediness, because you’d just been so full and now you’re so empty. it’s burning a hole right in the pits of your stomach, and you need to be filled. you need it. cassandra, for all her patience— has waited long enough.

your pussy opens up to cassandra’s cock with an obscene squelch, walls stretching, thighs quivering outwards as you welcome the familiar girth, and isn't that something? that coming home equivocates to cumming over her cock.

cassandra cants her hips upwards, just barely— and after the (sloppy, but earnest) viciousness of which caitlyn just fucked you; it's not enough.

“more—need—more, cass—“

poor choice of words. you should know better than to throw nicknames around so flippantly, around her daughter, no less. cassandra’s grey-tinged stare turns glacial. if there's anything she's has ever taught you—it’s how to be good.

"and just where did your manners go?” cassandra’s head slants, lips curling, and you know you’re in for it, now.

through glassy eyes and a heavy head—you watch as she peels the glove from her hand and—ah. they’re the ones from earlier. still filthy, drenched in your residue. it brings flush of shame to your cheeks—mouth opening to whine; yet you’re cut off by the way she swiftly stuffs them in your mouth. the salty proof of your lust shoves down the back of your throat. you choke. it stifles your mewling like a charm.

heavens. cassandra is struck by just how much she adores you, as she rocks you on her dick. your gaze; so glossy and starry and bright, tears burning behind your eyes around your gag. she goes slow—lulls you into a false sense of security with the gentleness in her pace—before she viciously drives her hips upwards every so often, and pounds. the push-and-pull is undoing. you gasp around your make-shift gag each and every time, making the most delicious sounds as you do so.

caitlyn has long since sulked back to the armchair at the side, watching the scene with as her dick twitches, still standing tall and proud as your slick glistens, coating its length. cassandra takes her time. not sparing a glance at her daughter, the pace of her teasing out the both of you. caitlyn grouches, grumbling to herself all the whole. the sounds that come out of your mouth are much less becoming.

“take it,” cassandra orders coolly, into your ear, weathered hands clasping your jaw. she twists herself in, and you buck with a gasp when you feel hotness flood through every being. cassandra grunts, and the slip-up is barely decipherable through the cotton in your head, but you can feel the way she pumps you full with her cum with complete clarity, spasming around her cock.

when cassandra finally empties herself–pushes you up, and off of her, her movements are gracious and dignified, as if she didn’t just fuck and fill you full until your pupils slipped back and your cunt oozing with white. by the time she's done, caitlyn has made another mess against mahogony, and the younger is too fucking desperate to even bother with the illusion of control. too desperate to give a single flying fuck about the fact her own mother's cum is pulsing out from your pussy in sticky waves, that the second you're out of cassandra's hands—you're in caitlyn's. she shoves you back on the rug, fireplace licking warmth against your cheeks—though its nothing compared to the roar of sheer, blinding sensation that blazes up your core when caitlyn rams her cock inside you. groaning, girth splitting you open as she mounts you, just like that, in the middle of the living room.

cassandra reclines, back against the armchair, cock hanging between her legs. her lips curve, upwards, and she takes a sip of her tea. she has more to give you, after all. she'll just have to ensure caitlyn doesn't snap you in two, first.

[solelifauna]

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 1)

TW: Mentions/allusions to cannibalism, death, and violence.

Three years had passed since that fateful day and your life had only gotten more miserable. Whatever hopes you had for being a part of a family were thwarted as soon as you stepped foot in the household. Bruce doesn't care about you, Dick was straight up mean, Jason (as the pack protector) was aggressive, Tim found you annoying, and Damien simply loathed your existence and would join Dick with his cruelty.

Both Stephanie and Barbara were civil with you, but neither really cared about what you did. Cassandra was nice, sometimes signing to you and giving you scented clothing, but she still didn't really go out of her way to engage with you. The only person who you felt truly cared about you was Alfred.

The first two years you tried your hardest to fit in and get the others to like you. You did whatever they wanted, made sure to learn their interests so you could talk to them, never complained, and made sure to respect the pack's boundaries.

You hoped that eventually, you’d all move past this hurdle and soon you would get along and be allowed in the pack den and other pack activities. Unfortunately, you realized that you would never be considered part of the family or the pack. Which as heartbreaking as it was, was the least of your worries.

You see, there was an ancient custom in werewolf culture concerning new pack members and pack initiation. When a new werewolf is introduced to a pack and their territory, the new werewolf has a certain amount of time to be accepted into the pack; if they’re not, well, they're killed and eaten. 

Yeah… quite terrifying and barbaric if you think about it, but mostly only the old lineages still continue this practice. Which is why you’re absolutely fucked. See, typically when children come to a pack they get accepted immediately, pups were (usually) considered precious.

In your case, being a half-blood severely reduced your chances and well, you guessed the Wayne family just didn't like you. Which sucks because you only have until your 18th birthday to get them to accept you, and considering your 16th birthday was coming up, your time was coming to a close. 

Or, you could always just run away. Hey! It was an option, one that you weren't sure the Bats would even let happen. Still it was worth a try. Which leads to your current situation in Bruce's office; you were trying to cut your losses a little early.

~~~~~~

“Look, I just feel as though this is the best course of action for your pack’s and my own safety.” Came your exasperated and desperate voice.

“Safety?” Bruce questions, causally flipping through some Wayne Industries documents, as if he doesn't know exactly what you're talking about.

“Considering Damian’s tried to kill me five times, two of his attempts almost being successful, and Jason's pit aggression that has him ready to rip my throat out, you can see why someone would feel unsafe.” You state, voice raising slightly in pitch.

He hummed noncommittally, his eyes still focusing on whatever paperwork he was going over.

“I'll think about it.” He replies, still disinterested.

“There’s nothing to think about! I should be allowed to leave if I want to, and if anything I'll finally be out of your pack's way.” You say, finally letting your frustration show through.

Why couldn't he just let you leave? Did he seriously want to keep you here just to kill– sorry, eat you in another two years?

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from his work, his blue eyes meeting yours. He was unimpressed, you could tell that much at least, coupled with a dark look of simmering anger.

Okay, so maybe you should tone it down a notch.

“Come on, I'm not an idiot. I know me being here is simply a public formality, good fluff bits for the press y'know. But I'm not part of your family, and I'm certainly not part of your pack. You and the others have made that very clear. So please, allow me to do us both a favor and get out of your way.” You add.

“Where would you go?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

“Where would you go?” Bruce repeats again.

“That–that is honestly none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? Aren't I entitled to know where my kid is?”

“No, you’re not. Sure you're biologically considered my father, but we all know I'm not really considered your kid.”

“Is that what you think?” He questions.

“Am I supposed to think any differently?”

“You carry the Wayne surname do you not?”

“I do.”

“Then you belong to the Waynes. To me. Which means that I decide what happens to you.”

There was the familiar darkness that you saw pooling in Bruce’s eyes, the type that left the Joker a tortured mess, the type that disemboweled Ra’s Al Ghul, the type of darkness that reminded you that Batman doesn’t kill. Oh no, he maims and tortures instead.

You unconsciously take a careful step back. 

Bruce’s stare felt like ice, and his words hung in the air, thick and heavy with an authority that was absolute. You wanted to argue, to say something, but every instinct in your body screamed for caution. There was a darkness in his gaze that you had seen glimpses of before, but never directed at you, and now it was there, unblinking, cutting through any hope you’d harbored for mercy or understanding.

Your heart hammered, yet you forced yourself to stand straighter, swallowing down the instinctive fear. 

“With all due respect,” you began, your voice smaller than you intended but steady, “staying here for another two years just for you all to—to follow through with that—custom, doesn’t seem fair.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften, but his posture shifted slightly, his gaze piercing through you like he could see every thought you tried to hide. 

“Belonging is earned. It isn’t granted because of blood,” he stated coldly. “If you truly wish to belong somewhere, you work for it.”

“I’ve tried,” you said, voice thick with frustration. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve followed your rules, I tried with everyone, and stayed out of everyone’s way. But nothing I do is good enough.”

“You assume that acceptance is given on your terms,” he replied, voice as controlled as ever. “Pack structure doesn’t bend to anyone’s whims. Least of all a half-blood who hasn’t proven their loyalty.”

The words stung, tearing open a wound that you thought had scarred over. You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp ache of your own nails digging into your palms. “And what exactly does proving myself look like here? Surviving Damian’s attacks? Letting Jason rip me apart every chance he gets?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, cutting through any retort you’d planned.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to take another step back from his desk. Challenging him wouldn’t help. He’d already decided where you stood, and nothing you said would change that. Maybe it was better to save your energy, conserve your strength for the day you’d finally slip away.

“Understood,” you said, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

 But you’d still leave when the time comes.

Bruce’s gaze hardened, like he knew what you were thinking. “Your place is here until I decide otherwise,” he said, a finality in his tone that told you any further argument would only worsen things.

He dismissed you with a look, returning to his papers as if the conversation were over, as if you were no longer there. Every step you took out of the office felt heavier, like the manor itself was holding you down, binding you to this place that was never truly a home.

As you closed the door behind you, the cold emptiness of the hallway wrapped around you, and you knew then—you were on your own. If you were to survive this, it would be on your own terms.

It's like clockwork when Alfred calls you down for dinner. The same time, the same routine.

You show  up to dinner, hands still shaking and mind still reeling from your disturbingly cryptic conversation with Bruce. But, never mind that you’d just eat quietly and leave like you always do. You moved to your normal seat only to find that all the chairs near the end of the table had disappeared. What the actual fuck. Was this some type of powerplay? Something to imply that you didn’t even have a seat at their table anymore? 

You mean, you wouldn't mind eating in the safety and comfort of your own room. With an exasperated sigh, which had a couple of heads turn their attention to you, you grabbed an empty plate and started loading it up with food. You were about to head back to your room when you heard an outraged growl from behind you.

The kind of growl that had you tensing, ready to submit and roll onto your back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jason growled out from behind you.

You freeze.

“To my room?” You responded meekly, curling in on yourself as much as you could.

“And pray tell, why do you think that’d be acceptable?”

“Uh–um, ‘cause my seats’ gone?”

Jason only smirked, the feral kind that almost always promised pain to his enemies.

“Oh, but your chair isn't gone, it's right here.” Jason says pointing to a chair right near the head of the table.

You blanked. That's not right. Only pack was allowed that close to the head of the table, where Bruce sat, where the pack leader sat.

“B-But, I can’t–”

“Did that sound like a suggestion?”

You shook your head no, swallowing down a whimper that almost escaped your lungs.

“Then sit your ass down,” Jason growled.

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Immediately you shakily sat down in your new seat, on the left side of Bruce’s seat at the head of the table with Jason sitting at your left shoulder and Dick across from you. Not good, not good at all. You could feel the acidic, green gaze of Jason burning into the side of your face whilst Dick languidly sipped his wine, a sickeningly sweet smile (with way too many teeth to be considered anything but malicious), plastered on his face as he stared at the new seating chart. You let out a shaky breath, trying to get your heart rate back to normal; you were so gonna die tonight.

Thankfully, Bruce arrived and sat himself in his seat at the head of the table; right next to you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on getting air in your lungs and slowing your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Bruce shot a knowing stare at the rest of the table. As much as you tried to conceal it, they could all hear your rapidly fluttering heartbeat and your poorly hidden breathing. Tim and Jason both watched you amused; you looked so darn pathetic, sitting there trembling like a leaf. 

You glanced down at your plate, picking at the food without really tasting it, hoping that staying silent would help you melt into the background.

Bruce, however, remained still and silent, his presence looming over you, radiating the authority that seemed to keep everyone else in check. But even that felt like a facade; the way his gaze lingered on you for a split second too long told you he was watching closely, assessing.

You forced yourself to take a bite, trying to steady your hands enough to appear somewhat composed. But the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to echo in your ears, loud and unrelenting, as if amplifying the anxiety that twisted in your gut. They could hear it too; you knew that much from the way Jason’s smirk deepened, from the way Tim’s lips twitched with barely-contained laughter.

As the dinner dragged on, every clink of a fork, every quiet murmur, felt like it was directed at you. The food turned to ash in your mouth, each bite only reminding you of the eyes trained on you, dissecting you with every chew and every breath.

The rest of the dinner passed in strained silence, every second an endurance test as you forced yourself to stay seated, to keep your head down. When Bruce finally pushed his chair back and dismissed everyone, the wave of relief was almost enough to make you lightheaded. Quick as a whip, you practically ran up the stairs towards the safety and solace of your room.

When you make it, the locks on your door are immediately fastened (not that it would do much if anyone wanted to actually force their way in). You exhale in relief as you try to collect your thoughts. Fuck, everything was going to shit; the worst part being you had school tomorrow (which thankfully you did not go to Gotham Prep; you'd kill yourself if you did). You groaned at the thought, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes to relieve the ache shooting through them.

Looks like another night of shitty sleep.

Taglist!!: @lostsomewhereinthegarden, @the-rouge-robin, @confused-they

[luludeluluramblings]

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader exhausted and cornered after a night of running from the Bat Family.

Bruce with adoption papers in his Batbelt: I'd advise you just come quietly. You're exhausted and we have you surrounded.

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader: Maybe, but do you really think I don't have a plan to get out of this?

Bruce my precious baby has a contingency plan im so proud: You're to exhausted to use your abilities any more, but, by all means, try.

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader taking a deep breath and making sure the entire family's attention is on them.

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader pointing directly at Bruce: Catwoman tops him.

The entire Bat Family's heads whipping to look at Bruce at breakneck speed.

Bruce: There is nothing wrong with-

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader: He calls her 𝓜𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂~

Bat Family.exe has stopped working

Bruce: It was only one time-

Jason: It's fucking true?!

Stephanie: Ｂａｔｍａｎ＇ｓ ａ ｂｏｔｔｏｍ．．．

Dick: There is nothing wrong with being a Bottom.

Barbara over the comms: We get it, Dick. You're a switch. But, really? A mommy kink, B? Talk about issues.

Duke: Cass, can you confirm if he's lying?

Cassandra the human lie detector: He is.

Tim: You guys realize this means Wonder Woman probably topped him too, right?

Damian: So that's how Mother got him...

The entire Bat Family dissolving into a massive analytical debate over all of Bruce's previous relationships and roasting the ever loving shit outta him while Bruce continues to deny being a bottom.

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader sneaking off: my work here is done

A/N: I may have cackled while writing this. It's terrible, but, boy oh boy, does it bring me delight.

A/N: I'm also in that weird place where I have a million ideas or none at all and either have very little time or motivation to write. No in between. Urgh.

A/N: I don't actually headcannon Bruce as a bottom, but as a dude who has tried everything at least once (or twice.) But y'all can if y'all want.

[alm0ndm1lk1]

Stay Quiet

BSF! Caitlyn Kiramman x f! reader

Warning: NSFW!

Author Note: This is my first public Fic, so with that being said I did not proofread lol.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

For centuries, your family has worked for the Kiramman household. Primarily your family has served as the Kiramman guards and that is how you and Caitlyn became close since both of your families were intertwined. Cassandra and Tobias have opened their mansion to you, and you are welcome to visit. 

Today was supposed to be any other day when you come by to visit and bring her parents a gift from your travels and most importantly catch up with Caitlyn. But here you are laid out on the huge queen-sized bed mouth filled with a piece of fabric while the navy blue-haired woman's face is buried between your legs. Although the piece of cloth being your panties she discarded into your mouth in hopes of quieting you did nothing to drown out the cries of ecstasy that have been falling from your swollen lips. 

Caitlyn clicks her tongue, “It's quite a shame... I thought stuffing your mouth with your cute panties would silence you, I can still hear you.” She stops what she is doing to travel up your body where she grips your hips massaging your plush skin. “I wonder if anyone can hear the lewd noises that are coming out of that pretty mouth; oh what would they think.” She whispers in your ear. You look at Caitlyn with need- no.. desperation as you are bucking your hips into the air with tears falling down your eyes. Caitlyn dips her hand near your lips removing your damped panties that are now ruined with your saliva. “You promise you will stay quiet dove?” She asks as she caresses your lips moving her thumb to your bottom lip slowly forcing your mouth to suck on her thumb; “Y-yes I will Caitlyn I’ll stay quiet I promise.” You manage to get out with her thumb in your mouth. Caitlyn chuckles darkly looking down at you while you are slowly losing yourself in this steamy feeling. She travels back down and spreads your limbs to where she sets her pussy on top of yours slowly pressing herself to tease you as your chest starts to heave up and down quickly. 

“Oh my goddd C-Caitlyn oh fuck.” You silently cry into her sheets. “Stop messing with me- please fuck me Caitlyn please please-“ you pathetically beg her completely forgetting the rules she set for you, as Caitlyn grinds her pussy on top of your aching clit softly groaning she moves her slender fingers around your neck not squeezing too hard but in hopes of shushing you. But it was far too late, all you care about is reaching your orgasm that was slowly catching up to you. The atmosphere, your best friend on top of you using your body and moving it on her like you are her toy for her to use. You loved every second of this.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

[mythalism]

You likely don't remember me, but I'm the anon who asked you a few weeks ago, "why would anyone think Solas would choose Lavellan over Mythal." Thank you for replying to it the way you did. It actually inspired me to play DAI, seeing how passionate you were about Solavellan.

I finished Trespasser last Friday, and I must say I FUCKING GET IT NOW. I ABSOLUTELY DO. That bald bitch has crawled his way into my brain and pussy.

I was mildly irritated by him in Veilguard. I sneered at Lavellan's lovey-dovey "let me join you in your prison." I didn't know their lore, indeed. You were absolutely right, the tastiest parts happen outside of the three kissing scenes they had in DAI. His personal quest? Blew my fucking mind. What he says during Cole's quest? I'm on my knees. ("We cannot change our nature by wishing," Solas says and looks straight at Lavellan. Or his reply to Varric's "He could have been a person." is, "Would that have made him happier, child of the Stone?")

Everything about how Solavellan was written in DAI resonates. Her first flirt with him is "I will protect you." His passionate speech on spirits? (The youtube compilation I watched didn’t have it, so it was such a treat to see it for the first time and finally be able to enter discourse on this!) I loved how the flirt is "I look forward to help you make new friend wink-wink," which makes him FLUSTERED. YET he approves way more if you actually consider his point of view and say spirits (and by extension him) are real people!

I had no idea how protective and private he was over romance with the Inquisitor in DAI (he shuts down Sera and Cassandra right away). So while I would absolutely have liked him to speak more on Lavellan in Veilguard, especially after experiencing the romance for myself, I do also see now why he would be quite unwilling to open up to Rook of all people. (When I heard his "There are few regrets sharper than watching fools squander what you sacrificed to achieve," I thought of Rook right away, lol. Oh, what irony.)

The Temple of Mythal quest and the conversation with him afterwards made me dizzy. What do you mean Mythal has a bunch of elves chained to her will, doing her bidding for millennia, and she never visits?? What do you mean she used whoever drank from the Well as her puppet?? What do you mean she wants a reckoning that will shake the heavens?? How on earth are NONE of those things referenced in the direct sequel??? Why is she portrayed as a noble martyr, when she was clearly part of the issue? (Vallaslin are SLAVE MARKINGS, and I may be dumb, but I never heard that in Veilguard for some reason?? And Solas HAD HERS on his FACE???? I only now understand the "I release you from my service" bit.)

His "I begged you not to drink from the Well" hit me. (I made my Lavellan do it, btw. At that point I thought, ofc nothing bad will come of this decision, I know Mythal to be a spirit of benevolence and kindness. LOL!!!! Then Flemeth overrides my Inquisitor's will for something as minor as chastising her daughter. And that was a kinder version of Mythal, who lived among mortals for centuries, apparently? xD) As did his "Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her." And "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

Mind-blowing. And everything about Trespasser obliterated the remains of my brain. Companion comments on Solas leaving?? What Cole said about him??? Lavellan's words after witnessing the mural of him removing vallaslin from slaves?? He had agents??? He had plans???? Elves joined him???? He visited her dreams, looking like a sad wet puppy???

Trespasser was such a fantastic setup. It had everything. I genuinely have never experienced a drama and romantic tragedy in a video game the way I did with Solavellan in that DLC. AND I knew Veilguard would have them reunited. I can only imagine how it was for people who played it on release, not knowing. The wait? The theorizing? The heartbreak?

It is a superior ship, no doubt about it. "I look at you and I see what you truly are" (DING DING, memory of Duet codex was actually inspired by what he said to Lavellan??) "You are unique. In all Thedas I never expected to find someone who can DRAW MY ATTENTION FROM THE FADE" (now I fucking see why she is singular and special to him!). "Ar lasa mala revas. You are free." Var lath vir suledin???????????!!!!!!!!

Fuuuuuuuuuck. lights a cigarette On the flipside, now I clearly see what a wet disgrace Veilguard's writing was. Absolute assassination of the meatiest plot points (the Well? Mythal’s reckoning?? Solas's entire drive to save his people??). Also, it was dumb not to utilize his romance with Lavellan more. Like—have people hate her for this! Hello? Your Chantry Herald had a lover who wants to destroy the world. Any comments, everyone?

Sorry for so much rambling. I'm still processing my emotions. What a game. What a weirdly hot, soul-crushing, heartbreaking love story. And they are together in the Fade now, for eternity...*SIGH*

i hope you know i was cackling with glee as i read this message. i am so so so so glad you played inquisition and trespasser and had such a wonderful time. it is so fun to witness the brain worm overtaking someone in real time. welcome to hell and please feel free to come share your thoughts and continue to process any time <3

[jaewritesfic]

Melon AU! Part 6

Part 5

While Alfred does what little he can to mend the creature's wounds, Bruce finds himself on the Batcomputer looking through their files on known species.

They've catalogued so much, both from the regular League and Justice League Dark.

Surely in all the combined experiences and knowledge of the vast network of heroes and civilizations that work together with the League there will be something on this creature and his species.

Nothing.

Bruce can't find anything like him in their files, he can't even really find anything close.

It's baffling.

“Our guest has no heartbeat, if that helps at all,” Alfred says casually, drawing up to Bruce's elbow. Bruce casts him a sharp and highly alarmed look. 

“Excuse me?”

Alfred must have just finished his work, his sleeves rolled up and arms and hands freshly scrubbed of green.

“Yes, I was rather alarmed myself when I could find no pulse. With a stethoscope you can find a humming sound in his chest, however. I can only assume that's whatever he has instead - perhaps he simply has no heart. Different organs entirely.”

Bruce sure fucking hopes so. He inputs the added criteria despite being certain he's already covered every nook and cranny of the database he can.

Nothing. Still nothing that remotely resembles the creature in their medical bed.

Movement out of the corner of Bruce's eye brings his attention to Tim, who is approaching from the labs with tablet in hand and a frown on his face. 

He'd taken a sample of the substance their guest bleeds to go analyze it while Alfred worked and Bruce searched.

“I'm going to take a wild guess and say you couldn't find anything,” Tim says. He only actually looks up from the tablet when he draws up next to Bruce, so he can't have developed that guess just from Bruce's expression. 

If that's the case… “You couldn't identify the substance?” Bruce muses, because he hopes that's the possibility out of the two available to them Tim is going to confirm.

Tim's mouth thins into a line. Bruce closes his eyes for a moment.

“It's Lazarus water, isn't it.”

“I mean,” Tim hedges. “Yeah. But like. No?”

Bruce frowns. “Explain.”

“It's definitely the same thing,” Tim says, “but in the same way that like…filtered bottled water and scummy pond water are both water. Whatever shadow noodle bleeds, it's clean. I didn't know Lazarus water was dirty, but this stuff is so different. Seriously it's like if someone broke Lazarus water down into a few key elements and all the rest was actually just pollutants or something.”

Bruce blinks, sitting back in his chair slowly.

That's…he doesn't know what that is, to be honest. It's something.

“He is a Pit Demon after all, then,” Damian says from a short distance away.

Cass lays a gentle hand on his head. “Not a demon. Don't be mean.”

Damian ducks the hand and flushes a little. “I am not being mean. We have confirmation that he bleeds some form of Lazarus water, and we have no record of his kind. It is the closest approximation we have as of yet.”

Alfred hums thoughtfully. “The boy seemed surprised by Miss Cassandra's willingness to listen and talk to him, no?”

“Very,” Bruce confirms.

Alfred nods. “Your logic is sound, Master Damian,” he concedes. “And I understand that it is in logic your choice of words are found. But the aforementioned behavior would suggest to me that our guest is quite used to similar rhetoric from mouths that do not use the term so neutrally.

“We want him to see this as a safe place when he wakes. It would be best to avoid such loaded terms as ‘demon’, I believe.”

Damian blinks, nodding slowly. “I see. Very well.”

Thank God for Alfred, Bruce thinks.

“So now it's just a waiting game, huh?” Dick asks, striding up behind Bruce's chair and frowning at the screen. “Wait for him to wake up and see what happens? What he can tell us?”

Bruce hums, recognizing the false calm in his oldest's voice.

What Dick really means is that he wants to know exactly who did this to a living creature, and where he can find them. Any other information is secondary to that anger in him right now.

Bruce sighs and stands from the computer, turning towards the still, dark figure in the displaced medical bed.

They're all trying to keep a little bit of distance and stay relatively quiet so as to let the creature rest and not spook him. There are already too many of them in the Cave as is for Bruce's liking - this is still an unknown, after all - so Bruce has messaged Jason and Duke and asked that they stay out of the Cave unless absolutely necessary for now.

Jason was not pleased considering the potential - confirmed, now - connection to the Lazarus Pits. 

That's exactly why Bruce doesn't want him here yet, though. He fears there might be some kind of reaction, and he at least wants to know more about their guest before that happens.

He at least wants their guest to fully understand they're not a threat to him first.

Bruce looks the creature over as he approaches the bed quietly. He's still incredibly still, chest motionless with the absence of breath.

Alfred has wrapped his newly stitched chest, the bandages seeming blindingly white against the impossible darkness of his skin.

It's with a heavy heart and a sick stomach that Bruce sees the hints of green staining the clean cloth in a distinctive Y.

Perhaps him not breathing is a good thing. At least a consistent rise and fall of the chest won't cause constant pain from shifting the incision.

Still, it unnerves Bruce. 

No heartbeat, either? Bruce doesn't dare lower his head to the poor creature's chest to try to listen for the humming Alfred mentioned, but he does reach down for one of those spindly wrists as if Alfred could ever be wrong about a pulse.

Bruce presses his fingers to the inside of the creature's wrist, frowning when he can't find anything.

Like this, no breathing, no heartbeat, the creature looks for all the world like he's dead.

Bruce wraps his hand around the wrist as if getting a better grip will change the result.

The creature's eyes snap open immediately, rooting him in place with a wave of that strange projected emotion Bruce had noticed on the rooftop.

Paralyzing fear.

Then he opens his mouth and nearly blows Bruce's eardrums out with an unholy, nightmarish shriek on par with Black Canary.

Masterpost

[valalice]

hear me out… combat training with rival!caitlyn where she gets all mad n frowny when you shit talk her so she pins you down on the mat. i’ve been thinking about this for WEEKS.

this is what i'm talking about !

you should've known better really, shit talking caitlyn kiramman of all people. but she makes it hard to somewhat tolerate her to a certain degree when she parades around like she owns the fucking place, her lean figure pin straight (perfect posture of course, nothing less expected of a kiramman), head held high (cassandra made it a point to instill the objective into young caitlyn's mind that you never let people persevere you as weak), and a cocky smirk that for some reason stays glued to her face at all times. she had every reason to be cocky—full of her self when she's the best at everything, everyone is either intimidated by her or adores her, and no there is no in between. you feel neither towards her, having the same prideful air about you, and there's no way in hell you'd ever adore her, you hate her, but again, hate does no lie between intimidated and adoration, it's the rotten third, born from pure animosity you have for her. it's something sacred really what you and her have, something so foolish, childish about your rivalry, but still serious in its own way.

you should've known your words would've been whispered right back into the ear of the heiress, too deep in the pits of blinded hatred to realize that kiramman has ears everywhere. and you know she knows when the next time the two of you cross paths her stare is more daggered than usual, and if your words hadn't sent the blue haired beauty into a frenzy, the laugh in her face upon seeing her had lit the spark, setting her ablaze.

you should've know caitlyn would come marching up to you like the prissy person she is and demand a combat match immediately, rolling your eyes at her temper and the shrill in her accent, she annoys you immensely by thinking she can get anything at her beck and call.

"can't you see i'm eating, kiramman?"

"i do. and i don't care. you talk shit, you're going to back it up."

"you're really looking to get another ass beating already?"

your words stung like a fist full of salt in a wound. the last match you two had, you won by a sliver, a tiny one, but you took the victory nonetheless. and it sends a tingly sensation down your spine, to the tips of your fingers, and then your toes to see the ever so barely noticeable twitch in her eye. but, of course you notice, you love seeing how you're able to get under her skin.

you should've known better than to accept that damn match, because now caitlyn has you pinned on the mat, struggling to think quick and reach for her weak spots to get you out of this position. you hate it, you hate her. but more importantly you hate how quickly she was able to pin you down, the swiftness and pure skill and talent (you'd never mutter these words out loud, even with a gun to your head) it took for her to pull off that move. it's all that damn excessive training with ambessa, you'd wander pass this very room time and time again heading the hits and grunts, caitlyn always overworked herself to the bone until she was able to get something right, and do it better. and you hate that when you opened your eyes from being slammed against the barely soft surface you were met up and close with gleaming cerulean eyes and that fucking smirk; it was in the moment you realized how close the two of you were, you always get this close but you're always too caught up with your motive of defeating her that you never took into account the compromising positions you'd put each other in.

"am i supposed to be getting my ass beat right now?"

should've spit in her face, but instead you're too stunned, focused on the knee slotted between your legs, pressing up against your pulsing heat. too focused on the wispy blue hairs fallen from her bun and how the usual sweat trickling down her eyebrow isn't there; she didn't even break a sweat. it takes a lot of restraint in you to not squirm beneath her, you won't give the satisfaction of seeing that (no matter how badly you want to sooth ache she's caused), you'll figure away out of this, eyes darting around to find anything's she any opening to free yourself or flip over, but you're too slow;

one.

two.

three.

the grip on you lessens when she's done counting, un-slotting her knee, and standing to her feet, gaze raking over your unmoved body, eyes swirling with gloat.

"i won."

and with that she walks out the room, no outstretched of a hand to help you off the matt, leaving you to lie there. she plays dirty.

you hate caitlyn kiramman.

[olympiansowl]

One thing I find so interesting about the PJO fandom is how they actually accepted how Rick fucked up 90% of the goddesses. Even when he uses a version of a myth that specifically talks about men being idiots, he villainizes women. Like, no one complained about how fucked up is that he used the story of Hephaestus trying to rape Athena and turning it into a “poor guy cried bc he was rejected by a girl” thing?

The true story is literally Hephaestus trying to rape Athena, she fights him off but his semen falls into her skirt and cleans it with a piece of cloth and tosses it into the ground (earth, which is Gaia) and from there, Erictonio is born. And Athena raised the child as her own even tho he was the product of the assault she suffered. The guy ruled Athens.

Rick turned it into Hephaestus falling in love with Athena and crying on her lap, making her reject and KICK him plus being disgusted by the tears and the dirt.

He also used all of Ovid versions he could possibly find to fuck Athena up. Arachne doesn’t happen with Greek writers and Medusa was never cursed (or assaulted) when we talk about the OG Myth. She was already born a monster and Athena only helps Perseus kill her bc yeah, Medusa killed people.

Also, Medusa’s version by Ovid is a lot alike Cassandra of Troy story, and let me tell ya, Cassandra was cursed but it wasn’t by a woman. And when she was raped by Ajax, Athena made sure that he didn’t made it back to Greece.

Now I’m gonna talk about Demeter. Demeter, who had her daughter kidnapped, raped and imprisoned, and was turned into the typical “mother in law who hated son in law bc she thinks her daughter could do better” when yeah…she has all the right to feel angry bc her daughter was KIDNAPPED.

Artemis doesn’t hate men and her followers also don’t hate men. Feminism isn’t about hating men.

Aphrodite. I cannot even describe how dirty they made Aphrodite’s children. Like be fr one of her children helped build what it would’ve been Rome. He was a fighter. And her cabin there is just so different of what she is truly like. They should have a lot of other powers.

Also, a lot of women from the books follows the same stereotype of “omg I hate makeup it’s so girlish and I’d rather fight” like you can be feminine, wear makeup and STILL FIGHT. One doesn’t erase the other.

Another thing, but this one is about MOTHERS! I truly cannot understand the way Rick creates his women. I’m serious tho. Like, I’m sorry but sometimes it seems that his thing some goddesses (Athena, for example) are personal. The “abandoning Athens” thing, the “should’ve chosen Poseidon”, the way he wrote her as being cold towards her kids…in one of the versions, Athena was the one who saved Dionysus from Hera. She raised a child and made him a king even though he was the product of her almost rapist. She was there helping heroes all along. She fought for Odysseus for ten years.

Also, this fandom is incapable of seeing the difference between Minerva and Athena. Minerva gave Annabeth the mark, Athena had nothing to do with this. Annabeth is her favorite daughter, she made her architect of Olympus, protected her through her journey to find Luke and Thalia, disobeyed her fathers orders trying to help to find Annabeth, made battle plans with her and all…and she always claimed all of her children.

I think people just don’t like her bc she doesn’t trust Percy. And she shouldn’t. I love him, but Athena IS the goddess of wisdom after all and as such, it would be pretty dumb to trust a demigod that won a battle against the god of war when he was only twelve. Not to mention that everyone kinda thought the “preserve or destroy Olympus” was on his hands. And he tortured a goddess…I’m sorry but she was pretty much right. Wouldn’t trust someone that had the power to fuck me and my family up either. She dint made the choice based on “omg I hate my rival and his children” even more so bc she was trained by one of his children and bunch of grandchildren. She made the choice based on what she thought was less risky.

If she was so against Percabeth, I can assure you she would’ve killed Percy and probably wouldn’t even suffer much consequences. She admires some things about Percy but she was right about his flaw. And she also helped him during one of his quest to go to college. Does she loves the idea of the relationship? No. But that’s bc she is precisely the opposite of love. She doesn’t make decisions based on what her heart says, but on what her brain says. If she succumbs to the heart, then she would seize to be goddess of wisdom, reason and all of what she values. That’s why she vowed to never marry.

And, as Helenist, I do not take the myths that seriously bc when we talk about religion, I have a clear mind that those myth were made by humans who used the gods as a tool to justify some of their actions, and I hate almost all of the retellings that those authors do, but is so wild to see how much power they have on society bc now I cannot see anything about the gods without someone saying shit about them. But I do know all about the myths and I gotta say, doesn’t make much sense to use a Roman author to talk about Greek Gods. He made them dirty. Also doesn’t make much sense to use this versions of Ovid but still change it to make it more sweet for the men. Poseidon and Athena didn’t spend that much time beefing, they even have a city together (Troezen) and she definitely doesn’t hate his children. Her best friend was literally his grandchild.

Safe to say that y’all should probably question Rick on how he treats women bc I was seeing the PJO series (the cast is amazing btw, safe to say that Leah/Annabeth is my fav) and by the looks of it, saying on how he changed Athena’s personality one more time, I legit think that Annie won’t jump to save her friends on season 3, she will probably be pushed by her mother or whatever.

Another thing: apparently only the women that like and have a friendship with Percy are treated as cool. But that’s on the fandom, not the author.

I forgot to add one thing and I’m gonna fix the grammar later but the “this is for children” excuse isn’t really valid considering that we saw Gabe being aggressive with Sally, we also saw Ares being a jerk to Clarisse (which also doesn’t make sense) and the story clearly states cheating, fights, death and a lot of other terrors. If you’re gonna use a rape version of a myth bc you chose to fuck a Goddess up, then you should state that the man is to blame. In the books we see Medusa saying she was Poseidon’s girlfriend/lover…she was his lover on the og myth, not in the version Rick chose. In the version that he chose, she was clearly raped. But he erased that and replaced rapist with boyfriend. He could’ve chosen to do another path if he didn’t want to talk about sexual abuse, I can tell y’all a hundred of ways this could go, but he chose this path and changed it, favoring the man. Again.

He could’ve gone with the theogony and said what was there that basically is: she was a monster, BORN a monster, daughter of other two monsters, no one wanted to get close to her, but he did. They slept together in a camp of flowers.

Athena only enters the story wayyy after this. And, as y’all can see, no curse. Yet, he chose to go with the rape version were Medusa is a maiden, loyal to Athena, gets raped on Athena’s temple by Poseidon and Athena curses her. And what did the author do? He made this: Medusa, loyal to Athena, fell in love with Poseidon and they did things on her temple. Athena cursed her. Again erasing the men’s fault.

The hate on Athena doesn’t make any sense at all. Y’all love some other male characters that don’t have a single sense of responsibility and possibly did everything wrong in the book. I saw people condemn Athena for her treatment of Deadalus when the guy literally killed his nephew bc he was more praised than him. And Athena gave him a mark that burned and did some shit to teach him a lesson. Poseidon wanted a trial to avenge his rapist son that was killed by Ares bc he tried to rape one of Ares daughters. A RAPIST. And Poseidon is treated like and angel bc what??? He likes Percy? Is his father and got him a gift? And Athena is being hated bc she isn’t his number one fan and her Roman part decided to give Annabeth a Mark? And mind you she’s just like that with him bc she knows more than everyone else and knows that he is dangerous. A good guy? Yes, Percy is the most amazing guy. Still dangerous. Still had the power to torture a goddess and win against the god of war. And she doesn’t dislike him, she dislikes his relationship with her daughter. And even so, she didn’t stop the relationship. So yeah I won’t ever get why the women always get more hate than the men considering this.

Again, as a Helenist, I don’t take the myths seriously when I talk about the religion in general bc the Gods are superiors. They don’t have human flaws. But, as someone who knows about the myths, is safe to say I hate those stories that uses myths like that and turns it against the Goddesses and make them out to be the worst ever. All the gods deserved way better than what they got with those retellings.