#i tried to make the utility belt but it looked weird

[the-church-grimm]

I Made MulletWing in Pony Town too lol

Edit: Updated versions

Edit: Talon!Dick

From Robin to NightWing

Dick Grayson

[hello-eden]

In Plan sight 3

p1 p2

Tim has no idea why Jason texted him.

Jason took the rest of the week off after he texted him so it can't be anything good. Tim landed on the fire escape and pulled himself through the window. Jason was sitting on the couch on the side farthest from the window. he was reading but when he noticed Tim he put the book down beside him.

“ What do you need Jason? I really just want to go to bed.” Tim was tired; he just wanted to take a long hot shower and slip into one of his oversized hoodies.

“ Are you actually wanting to go to bed or are you going to try for 10 minutes and then go back to the casework?” Jason said like he knew the answer already.

 “no need to call me out.” Tim whined

 “ You need to sit down.” 

Jason motioned to the couch beside him.

“I'm not going to fall over on my feet.” Tim replied as he took off his mask and utility belt.

“ yeah well what I'm about to tell you I think you need to sit down.” Jason patted the seat beside him to get his point across.

 “Did someone die?”

“ No one died, actually quite the opposite.” 

“What does that mean?” Tim reluctantly sat down and waved his hand as if to motion to get this over with.

“ So two days ago I woke up with a kid in my safe house and didn't really think anything of it until later when she came out to me asking me to save for Mom.”

“ I do not like where this is going. Is the mom okay?” 

“I have no idea. I'm hoping you have a lead for me.” Tim thought that was weird as Jason hates when people try and help with his case. 

“ Are you asking for my help? “

“no but I'll get to that. I look up the birth certificate and it goes to a woman that doesn't exist so obviously this is going to be hard.”

“still not getting what you need me here for if you don't want me to join the case.” If Jason needed help looking for someone he usually goes to Barbara and Tim knows she isn't busy.

“you're probably going to want to join the case but for now,”Jason throws his hands up to point at Tim and makes it zipping motion in front of his lips ”shut up.”

“ okay okay”

“As I was saying I couldn't really find anything so I obviously do a DNA test to guess who's DNA pops up.”

“ Is it someone I know?” Tim tries to think of any one that can cause this reaction.

 “yeah you.” 

“What.”

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie isn't allowed to travel alone Anymore

So! Ellie was raised in a Lab by a Genuine Bonefied Supervillain. She was raised to be a Villain as well, so her Moral Conpass is a little skewed.

Sure she *mostly* knows what is right and wrong from Danny's quick lesson before her Adventure around the Country, but she still has trouble separating what is moral and what is not from time to time.

So it's really no surprise that the moment she left Amity Park she somehow ended up being branded a Villain.

Look, it's not her fault she didn't know not to attack the flying guy in Blue Spandex when he approached her! One of Danny's biggest warnings shen she left had been Stranger Danger! She did what any 12 year old girl would have done when approached by a strange Older Man!

Its also not her fault that her powers (being Magic based), managed to affect him! She didn't even use her full power! (She maybe should have kicked him in a different place tho...she hopes he wasn't planning on having kids...)

So she did what her instincts told her to do. She took any money he had on him and ran the hell away!

It wasn't until she was 2 cities over when she saw a newspaper titled, "Little Villain Girl Mugs Superman in Broad Daylight!", that she realized she may have screwed up...

After that, she really had no excuse.

She knew that she probably shouldn't have kept Mugging the Heroes who approached her, but she wasn't a Fenton for nothing! Her Family Motto had always been "Commit to the Bit", and she was gonna stick to it!

So when the Fast Red Guy tried to tie her up, she phased off all his clothes and took off with his money (not the mask, she knew enough not to take that off)

And when the Grumpy Bat Guy tried to corner her with some weird papers he pulled out of his Belt, she just distracted him while her clone picked his pockets and made off with the wheels of his Car. That one made her a pretty penny!

The flying Green Guy was fun, his attacks were just throwing Ghost Candy (pure willpower) at her. He did stop doing do after she nicked his fancy talking Ring however, but it was fun while it lasted

Then she came across a Orange Fish Guy, and he actually seemed nice enough. But she was committing to the Bit, so she took the fancy Trident he had and sold it at a nearby Pawn Shop for some extra cash. He would probably be able to find it, that's why she chose a nearby location.

All in All, her Adventure had been really fun! So she decided to visit Amity Park again to tell Danny all about it!

...

Aquaman walked into the meeting room of the Watchtower, a very frustrated look in his eye.

Barry spoke up first, "Oh! I know that look in your eye! She got to you too didn't she!"

Arthur just glared at Barry for a second before walking over to his Chair, sitting down with a thump. "She is certainly a tricky child."

"What did she take this time?" Clark asked.

"..mttrident..." Arthur grumbled out quickly.

"What was that?" Asked Barry with a twinkle in his eye. He heard it, but he wanted everybody else to know.

"She took my trident, Okay!" Arthur shouted out.

"I feel ya man." Responded Hal, "At least with me she threw it back at me when she realized it wasn't making 'candy' anymore. What did she do with yours?"

"She sold it at a Pawn Shop!" Arthus yelled in frustration, "She managed to steal one of the most Powerful Magical Weapons in the world, the Symbol of the entire Atalantean Royal Bloodline, and she sold it and a Pawn Shop!"

"...how much did she get for it?" Asked Hal.

At this, Aquaman just collapsed to the table and groaned.

...

Alternatively she could have just kept all those things, and gradually built up a collection of all the JLA's most treasured possessions.

She has Supermans Wallet, not very important to him but it was her first mugging

She has Batmans Utility Belt (trackers removed) along with his Tires

She took Flashes Costume Ring (his civilian clothes still stuck inside)

She took Green Lanterns ring as well, but unfortunately it managed to escape after a few days. It was feisty.

And her crowning Jewel is the Trident she took from Aquaman.

(She avoided WW, cause she likes her too much to steal anything from her)

[bad-comic-art]

I didn’t realize just how long it had been since I submitted that old fix, and felt like I could do better- so here’s take two with a different shot!

Fixes in no particular order:

-that triangle shape to the nose of the mask now makes more sense for something that always manages to obscure her nose

-that lush lovely pony-tail is now tucked away where it cannot be pulled or caught on things!

-de-spiked the pauldrons/shoulder pads. I made them very simple last time, and while I don’t dislike the style, they’re an awful hazard for someone who is likely going to be raising their arms or needs full mobility!

-arm no longer vanishes behind torso and moved weird little floating thumb

-breastplate is no longer pointing deflected blows right into the sternum, and is no longer impossible to lean forward in

-added a sort of quilted padding to the weird skin suit where falls or blows can’t be covered with more armor

-got rid of the weird armpit-pockets and moved them to a utility belt. How I didn’t consider this last time is a mystery.

-TRIED to fix the hand that mysteriously vanishes into the mans shirt… it still looks jank but its more hand than she had so I’m taking the w.

-how she doesn’t have badass boots to match her shoulder guards blows my mind. Enjoy your new boots ma’am. Because of the range the leg bends, they get to have the spikes as a bonus.

-removed herobrine

------------------------------------------------------------------

here's the original for comparison, still such a weird costume to me because it's supposed to be a mash of Batman and Catwoman's outfits but they just totally gave up on the bottom half

[billthedrake]

NIGHT SHIFT

It was twilight more than actual dawn, but as I heard the sound of the metal clink in Dad's uniform belt, I roused in my bed and saw his beefy build standing by my dresser. Carefully, he removed his service weapon and placed it next to my baseball card collection and my trophies, then did the same with his utility belt.

My eyes took a second to adjust, but I could start to make out his handsome features. Roman nose, round cheeks, thinning hair kept military buzzed.

"Heya kiddo," he whispered when he finally saw me watching, sitting up in bed. Already he was unbuttoning and untucking his uniform shirt, the kevlar vest making his barrel chest even more pronounced beneath.

"Hey Dad," I said. I tried to be quiet, too, but my voice was groggy and my greeting came out louder than I intended.

Not that I probably needed to worry. It's crazy and would be impossible to explain to any outsider. But this was an open secret in our family. Mom knew, my little brothers knew and even if no one talked about it, there was a strange acceptance. Maybe because my parents fought less now. Maybe because I was the star baseball player who was pretty much tapped to get a top pick in the upcoming draft, straight out of high school. I was definitely the Golden Boy. I wouldn't say I was spoiled, because I worked my ass off for my success, but I got a lot of special treatment.

It was a ritual I was getting used to, the way Dad neatly hung up his uniform, putting it in my closet, next to my Sunday best blue blazer and pressed khakis. He wore Jockey style briefs that clung to his meaty ass and heavy genitals. My morning wood was reliable but even if it wasn't I'd have gotten rock hard just watching him.

Finally Dad turned toward the bed with a relaxed smile, taking two steps to approach, then hooked his thumbs in the elastic and slid off his underwear. My father wasn't erect yet, but his dong was getting firmer as he lifted up the bed sheet and crawled in next to me.

"Sorry to wake you, Nolan," he said as he scooted up against me, his strong hands latching on to my sides. "But you do feel nice, buddy...."

"You too, Dad," I said. My dick pressed into the softness of his belly. My father wasn't overweight but he had some love handles on his otherwise hard, regulation-fit body. I loved every bit of him and the way he felt next to me. My hands were matching his move, running along the hard lats and over his meaty ass cheeks.

"This is what I look forward to after a hard shift," he said.

"Tough night?" I asked.

"Yah," he said. Dad didn't talk about the stress of his job in detail, but I liked that he could confide in me. When I was a kid he'd always hide that part of his life from me.

Our lips met. Softly at first but I nudged his mouth with my tongue, and Dad opened up to accept it. He moaned into my mouth as he pawed me more greedily, his hands' urgency a contrast to our restrained kiss.

My own hands were feeling him up excitedly, eventually one moving down to cup his crotch. My dad was rock hard now.

"HMMM," he hissed as we broke the kiss. "You got me hard, buddy."

"I can tell," I said. The daylight was a little brighter in the room now, and I could make out my father's masculine, soulful face up closer. His body felt warm and the scent of him filled my nostrils. My fingers caressed his rigid prick, which jerked in my hand some. "What are you in the mood for, sir?"

With me and Dad it was 50/50. Not only the sex acts we did but who guided how we would mate. After a big game or when we got some extended dad-son time, I generally got to pick. But when Dad was coming off of a night shift, I liked to indulge him.

"Hard to choose," he said. His hand was now moving to feel up my son bone.

"I know what you mean," I said.

He gave a slight, serious smile. It was weird that I was waking up but Dad was tired but fully awake, having been up for a good sixteen or seventeen hours. "I guess I'm trying to say, I want both... you know, flip."

We actually hadn't done that. If I hadn't watched my share of porn, I might not even know what that term meant. But the second he said it, the idea sounded perfect.

Dad must have read the approval on my face because already he was reaching over me, toward the lube I had out on the night stand. This was another thing I no longer bothered to hide. Over the course of the last nine months, we'd gone from only fooling around outside of the house to only doing it when we knew we were alone to.... this. I heard the squirt of the liquid in Dad's palm as I felt up his soft furry torso. Then Dad pumped out more for good measure.

I grinned at him as he now reached between my legs. I had a good jock's body, strong and athletic but over the last few months I'd really gotten more into lifting and my body had responded well. Dad told me he was in love with all of me, not just my muscles, but I still enjoyed the confidence my new build had given me. And Dad's eyes seemed more appreciative.

The fingers felt silky and warm as he fingered me open.

I could hear footsteps in the hall. People were starting to wake up. Dad paused a second and arched his eyebrow. The first time this had happened we were terrified of being discovered. Now my father pulled his big mitt back, wiping some of the excess lube onto my hard prick before slicking up his own.

"Lift your legs, Nolan," he instructed. No longer whispering but talking at full voice.

I was so excited to do so, pulling my legs back in the air, only to have my state trooper father guide them to a resting place on his shoulder. I pulled the extra pillow and Dad did the rest to help me lift my hips to place it beneath me. The angle was perfect, and I clenched my core once I felt Dad's wet meaty prick nudge my folds.

We used to have to go real slow through this part. Dad took my cherry right after my 18th birthday, and for months entry felt cherry-tight. But the last month, we'd both hit a groove. I was still tight, as was my father, but he was able to work himself inside me without too much difficulty.

He was doing it now, his eyes on me, excited to be inside his son once more.

"I love your cock, Dad," I hissed.

He nodded. I didn't know if that was a nod to say he knew how much I loved his dick or a nod to indicate he loved my ass equally. Probably both. "You know, kiddo... you're gonna have to tell me if this is ever too much."

I shook my head no. "You always know how to fuck me, Dad. Always have."

He grunted. "I don't mean physically, Nolan. I mean the other stuff. Everything else."

The words made my cock thrwap on my belly. If Dad hadn't suggested the flip fuck, I would have been stroking my tool already. "Not to take away from the sex, sir... but the other stuff is the best part."

That got a big smile from him. He thrust in, completely, all the way. "That it is, buddy." Then another thrust. The emotional talk had keyed me up to take this, to want this.

"Fuck me, sir. Fuck your boy."

Dad's nostrils flared as he threw more strength into his fuck, still slow but very firm. "Oh kiddo..."

The only thing that spoiled an otherwise perfect moment was the nagging realization I'd be moving within two months. Out of my childhood home, away from Mom and my little brothers. Away from Dad. "You get so worked up after a long night," I observed, now running my hands along his furry chest. It was true, but my words were meant to egg him on, too.

"Cause I think about you all fucking shift, Nolan... you and your hot fucking ass."

His hips were faster now, his whole body moving in a steady athletic pump. It was exquisite. I didn't even mind having my legs pushed back as he leaned in some. "You and your amazing baseball jock body," he added.

"I'm gonna get bigger," I hissed.

Dad's body jerked to a stop, and I thought for a second he was cumming. But he bit lip and slowly slid out of me, pulling my ankles off his meaty delts and letting my legs down. His prick was super slick, from his frothy precum as much as from the lube, and I watched how it was immobile like a tire iron as he scooted up and straddled my waist.

Already he was half twisting, half leaning back to grip my slick cock and guide it into place.

"There," he hissed as he made contact. A second later he was already sitting down on me.

"Oh fuck, Dad," I grunted. "You feel so incredible."

Dad had a determined look as he made himself relax so he could work more of my dick into him. After about thirty seconds, though he'd worked his way down most of me. He paused, then started riding his hips up and down. "Your daddy's so horny, Nolan," he grunted. The bed was squeaking and our voices were louder. There's no way somebody wasn't hearing us fuck.

"Me too, sir," I growled, my hands gripping his hard, hairy thighs. Imagining fucking him in his uniform one shift. We'd done that once, and the memory still got me going.

"You're always horny, stud. Daddy's sex-addict boy."

"You know it," I said, now thrusting up into him as much as he was riding me. It all felt too good. "I don't know if I can last long... if you wanna flip some more."

"Let it go, son. Let that cum go right up my fucking ass."

It did. The orgasm was pretty intense so I had a good feeling Dad's guts were getting pretty sauced.

"Hell yeah," he hissed, riding me and milking me with his state trooper ass. He wasn't making a move to jerk off but instead leaned all the way back onto my crotch to ensure my dick and my load were buried as deep as possible inside him. He held there just a second then slowly rose off.

He leaned in to kiss me hungrily, then just as impetuously pulled back, nudging my legs up. "Pretty please, Nolan," he asked.

I wanted to give him this. The release, and the pleasure to match what he'd just given me. He knew it was going to be intense for me, so he didn't hold back. Sliding back inside my ass, he pumped me gently a couple of times, then just started moving faster to get off. I had a pretty good idea of the button to push.

"This is incest, Dad," I hissed. I didn't drop the word much, in part because it was so powerful.

"Shit," Dad hissed with an urgency that let me know it was working. He was almost cumming.

"Real incest," I repeated. "Deep incest."

Dad was whimpering now, in full orgasm, his face scrunching up and his body jerking as he pumped a bunch of his fatherly sperm into me.

He was a little sweaty and a lot tired when he dismounted. "That was incredible, Nolan," he said, reaching down to ruffle my hair and give me a more relaxed kiss. "Thanks."

I grinned. "Keeps getting better, huh?"

Dad looked back at me with a dreamy expression, his body now lying beside mine, his hands on my waist. "Somehow... yeah, it does."

I felt him up too. "I should probably get ready for school," I said, regret in my voice.

"Definitely," Dad said. "Another kiss."

We didn't rush this one, but I finally got the will power to pull back. "All right," I said.

"I'll text you later," he said. His voice definitely sleepy now. I watched him pull the covers up over his burly, hairy body and turn away from the light of the bedroom window.

I slid out of bed and reached over to pull the blinds down. I slid on some sweats and padded out of the room, shutting the door softly behind me.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Moonwood : Part 7

| PART ONE |

Billy comes down off his perch on the stump and his boots land heavy in the dirt. It’s impossible but it kinda feels like the ground shakes a little with his steps as he walks toward Steve. The crowd parts for him, dozens of eyes watching them hungrily, until Billy stops just in front of him. Looming.There is no other word for it. Billy casts a long shadow over him. His broad shoulders completely block out the firelight and Steve’s view of everything beyond them. That shouldn’t be hot. But it is. Like, Steve has never been this much shorter than a partner before or wanted to feel like they could just obliterate him without much effort. Maybe Billy being his soulmate has broken Steve’s brain a little.

Wordlessly Billy makes a gesture for Steve to follow and begins to walk away. Steve locks eyes briefly for a moment with Sasha who flashes him a tooth filled grin. It feels a little threatening somehow, but it might just be the way the firelight gleams in her eyes. Steve shrugs off the uneasy feeling, swallows back his fears and follows after Billy with his head high.

Billy leads Steve down a small crooked path, away from the fire pit and the crowd of young people around the chopped off tree, toward a line of naked looking ones strung with lanterns. Beyond them the forest thickens into a shroud of darkness, reminding Steve that despite the festival vibes, that these are wild woods. Danger lies inside them from bears and wolves… and maybe something worse than either of those.

He shivers a little, and then flicks a nervous glance toward Billy but Billy’s face is an icy mask of indifference as he walks with his shoulders squared and a wide swinging gate, like he’s used to wearing a tool belt around his waist. Maybe he is, Steve’s unhelpful mind happily supplies him with a vivid picture of Billy bare chested, in nothing but a holy pair of blue jeans and a utility belt and his mouth actually waters.

"Aren’t you worried about where I’m taking you?" Billy asks abruptly in a low, growly tone, and Steve jerks. The faint light from the lanterns casts dancing shadows over Billy’s features as his eyes bore into Steve. All around them the trees rustle in the night breeze - they sound like whispers.

"No," Steve shoots back defiantly, cocking an incredulous eyebrow. “I mean should I be? Everybody saw us leave together. If you murder me it’ll be the easiest case in the world to solve.”

Billy huffs. His lip curls in dissatisfaction. His laugh is a low rumble in his chest, more felt than heard. 

"Murder is not on the menu tonight, Harrington." He leans closer, and the faint hint of his earthy, musky cologne makes Steve's heart pound just a bit faster. “But maybe something else is,” he adds, his voice dropping to something sultry and low.

Steve feels a thrill shoot up his spine. It’s not fear—no, definitely not fear—even if it should be. He realizes suddenly that this is the closest he and Billy have ever been. There’s always been at least a school desk if not more between them, but now Billy is close enough that Steve can count each of his eyelashes - and fuck they’re long. Hargrove keeps staring at him and licking his teeth like he’s looking at dinner, and it gives Steve goosebumps. Because he knows what came after ‘my what big teeth you have’.

The woods around them feel alive, and there is something about being this close to Billy that makes Steve’s blood sing. He tries to remind himself all of the valid reasons he has to be pissed with Billy, and why he should be a lot more weirded out by how horny he is for the guy, but he just can’t muster it. The air is crisp, filled with the tang of pine and the distant scent of sea spray from the coast. And Steve wants answers.

“I’m not scared of you,” he says again, his voice steadier than he feels. There's an edge to it now, a challenge that Billy hears and he looks at Steve for a long moment and then smiles—a slow, dangerous curve of his lips.

“That right?” Billy muses, stepping back to appraise him. His gaze travels over Steve slowly, stripping him, and Steve tries not to squirm.”We could really test that theory and leave the circle.”

The words linger in the air between them and Steve’s breath catches. He stands taller, shoulders back, meeting Billy’s intense stare head-on.

“You’re talking about the lanterns right?” he replies with a spark of defiance. Billy licks his lips, his smile growing wider. His teeth look bigger somehow, and Steve wants to believe it’s just because of how much closer they’re standing but he doesn’t think that’s it.

“Yep,” Billy says softly. “I dare you to go beyond this circle of lanterns.” He gestures around them where small lights glimmer faintly like stars fallen to earth, encircling them in a protective halo of light laced with wolfsbane— the herb Steve’s mom had said weakend a werewolf's strength.

She said it was for humans. Presumably it’s what is keeping Billy and the other Moonwood folks from wolfing out on their neighbors. Despite his initial trepidation, Steve does feel safe here. But beyond this circle anything could happen.

“You can stay if you want. We can go back to how it was, you minding your place and me minding mine.” Billy says, like he read Steve’s mind. “But past these lanterns, I’m not just a guy from school anymore.”

“Is that who you are?” Steve blurts before he can stop himself. “Just a guy from school?”

“You want to know who I am? Is that it?” Billy asks and Steve swallows hard but nods slowly.

He knows what Billy is offering—more like threatening—is no small thing. To step outside the light means stepping into Billy’s world fully and it’s a dangerous world.

Steve can’t help but feel very small in it. He hesitates, his heart hammering against his ribs like a frantic drumbeat. Billy sees it and the light dims in his eyes, his lip curling.

“Not so brave now, are you?” He scoffs, muttering how Steve should be scared, because it’s crazy to knowingly leave safety and walk into the dark with a werewolf; but Steve thinks he looks disappointed - like maybe there was a part of him that had hoped Steve was crazy.

Taking a deep breath, Steve steps forward—one step closer to Billy and one step away from the ring of safety provided by the lanterns.

“Okay,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper but determined. “But if I do, you have to answer a question.”

“That’s it? One measly little question?” Billy asks and Steve adds.

“And you have to answer it honestly.”

Billy’s lips curve into a half-smile, a hint of victory mixed with something else—perhaps respect—flickering in his eyes. Steve gets the feeling that Billy already knows what he’s going to ask, that maybe all of this was some kind of attempt at scaring him off. But it’s not working, and Billy didn’t expect that.

The night seems to hold its breath as he nods slowly, his gaze never breaking from Steve's. "Deal," Billy finally murmurs.

With a deep breath to steel his nerves, Steve walks under the protective circle of lanterns and into the darkness where the shadows sway. He could always find his way around pretty well in the dark, but under the thick canopy it’s too black for Steve to see much of anything.

But Billy doesn’t seem to have the same worries, and puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder to guide him. Steve jolts a little at the touch and the fission of heat it sends down his spine but says nothing. Their feet crunch on fallen leaves and crickets chirp all around them. As they venture deeper into the forest, the canopy above thickens, weaving a tapestry of darkness and scattered starlight.

Finally they reach another break in the trees. Ahead, standing in a small circle of bare earth and illuminated by a sliver of moonlight, stands an ancient tree—towering, its branches gnarled and bare. The trunk is wide, twisted and old, its paper thin bark marked with carved symbols that Steve can barely make out in the dark. Hanging from the limbs are strands of feathers and beads; they sway gently in the night breeze, making soft clinking sounds.

“Whoa.” Steve steps closer to the tree, fascinated by it. He knows somehow that the tree is magic. There is something about it that draws him, pulls at him like gravity. Somewhere in the darkness a voice whispers and he turns his head sharply to try and catch them. It sounds like a woman he thinks… but it also sounds like wind, and either way it’s not as important as what’s in front of him. The tree calls to him.

His fingers stretch out, yearning to trace the grooves of the carvings, but just as his fingertips are about to brush against the bark, Billy’s hand snaps out and catches his wrist.

“Don’t,” he says, sharp and urgent in a way that makes Steve’s blood go cold.

“What? Why?”

“That’s witch magic!” Billy answers, his grip on Steve’s wrist tight as he pulls Steve back, easy as pulling a child. “It’s left over from the war, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t working. Why do you think nothing’s growing around it? Don’t you know anything?”

“About witches? Of course not!” Steve tries to protest only for Billy to shout over him, grip so tight now that Steve feels the bones twist in his wrist.

“I know you can’t feel it, but Christ Harrington can’t you see it? Open your eyes!” Billy practically screams. Steve wants to tell him that he had felt something, that was the entire reason he’d tried to touch it in the first place, but Billy’s too worked up now. Yelling, “you’ve got the survival instincts of fucking baby deer!”

“What is your problem? Dude - let go! It hurts!”

“Oh I’m hurting you? You went into the woods alone with a werewolf Steve, what did you-”

“Stop!” Steve finally pulls his hand free from Billy’s grip, cradling his throbbing wrist and gasping a little at the pain and Billy looks horrified. He pales, reaching for Steve again but falters when Steve flinches away from him.

“Shit. It’s not broken is it?”

“I’m fine!” Steve grits out in defiance, because Billy is looking at him now like he’s tragic, and breakable, and he liked it better when Billy was losing his shit on him for no reason.

“You brought me out here asshole.” He reminds them both. “You literally dared me.”

“It was a test.” Billy confirms, only a touch calmer than before but it’s something.

“A test? For what: to see if I would back down?" Steve sneers to hide the hurt from the thought that Billy Hargrove is probably his soulmate, but obviously doesn’t think he’s good enough. Steve’s soulmate thinks he has to test him for worthiness. He tries hard to drown out the voice that thinks that sounds just about right.

He flexes his hand a few more times to release the tension in it before letting it rest at his side. He looks up at Billy, squaring his shoulders, planting his feet in the dirt, and stares him dead in the eye.

“I’m not going anywhere until you answer whether or not you’re my soulmate.”

Steve feels a chill ripple down his spine—a mix of fear and exhilaration as the words hang between them.

For the longest time, Billy doesn’t answer. And then finally, he does.

“Yes. Why do you think I’ve been going so easy on you?” He says, like he hasn’t been giving Steve hell for two weeks at school, when they’re supposed to be each other's everything. Like he didn’t drag Steve into the woods away from help and scream at him for being stupid, just to test him.

“You’re also a pip. A runt. A half breed.” Billy adds, oblivious to the anger building up inside of Steve. “You should never have been born.”

Steve stumbles back a step. He can’t help it, Billy’s words cut at a deep insecurity he’s carried all his life. His dad never said those words. Not in that exact way, but the sentiment was still felt. He’d regretted marrying Steve’s mother and getting saddled with the disappointment that was the one child her body could stand to give him.

Billy to his credit looks extremely uncomfortable with the words coming out of his mouth.

“Look, that’s not what I think. That’s just what people used to say, alright? And there are a lot who still think that way.”

“Why?” Steve asks, voice cracking thinking - why aren’t I good enough?

“Cause you’re like the size of a gnat.” Billy’s hand gestures over him as if Steve’s five feet and ten inches is miniscule. But when you’re built like Billy Steve supposes maybe it is. “You wouldn’t last three seconds in a territory battle. You can’t shape shift and you don’t have our strength. You bleed like a human and you’re slow to heal. But honestly, the most damning thing is you don’t have soulmates.” Billy finishes helplessly.

Steve sort of gets it now. Why Billy’s elders would say people like him should not be born, if they’re born alone, weak, and without magic. It would sound awful to him… if he hadn’t been born amongst humans. And that’s the limit to Steve’s understanding because he doesn’t for the life of him understand what is supposed to be so terrible about basically being human.

That’s the heart of the issue here isn’t it. Billy is a werewolf and Steve might as well not be. All of this werewolf stuff is alien and terrifying to him, but he’s being pretty open minded about it. So why on earth would he apologize to anyone for being human?

“The only reason your kind exists is because some idiots don’t have enough self respect to wait for their true mate.” Billy yammers on, and Steve finally snaps.

“Hey!” Steve finally snaps, rushing to push Billy with both hands. Billy is taller. Billy is stronger. But he staggers back a step, looking down at his chest in surprise. Steve’s palms tingle where they touched Billy’s bare skin through his open shirt, but he ignores the sensation, too pissed to even be horny anymore. He is seething. It hurts, hearing how lowly Billy thinks of him, but he isn’t going to let anyone talk down about his mother.

“Harrington -” Billy starts, like he means to explain himself but Steve doesn’t want to hear it.

“Don’t talk about my mom. Ever.” he warns, something hot buzzing under his skin and Billy’s pupils widen, silvery light dancing over his irises.

Slowly. Billy smiles.

“Noted. You’ve got some fight in you after all huh pretty boy?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Why not?” Billy challenges immediately. “It’s true. The thing about your mom, maybe not. I don’t know her story. But I know yours. Pretty boy, charmed life, destined to end up behind some boring picket fence in suburbia with your boring little wifey and two point five brats.”

The words sting even though Steve has no idea why they should. He knew Hargrove wasn’t exactly his biggest fan, but he never thought the reason why would be something like the way he was born.

“You don’t know shit about me Hargrove and you just said we’re mates.”

“Yeah!” Billy snaps back, “and that shouldn’t be possible! You don’t have any magic so you should just be some boring little nobody, not my soulmate!”

Steve has never felt total rejection like this. Like he just wants to scream curses at Billy and throw punches until Billy’s face is as bruised as Steve’s feelings; but there’s something about the way Billy says it that holds him back. Anger and disgust would make sense, but that’s not the thread humming through Billy’s words. It’s fear.

But fear of what? He can’t possibly be afraid of Steve can he? But thinking he’d be afraid for Steve is somehow even harder for him to believe.

“Why not ‘your’ soulmate?” Steve asks, because he just can’t leave well enough alone.

Billy’s jaw clenches, eyes flashing in the moonlight. The turmoil in them is more profound than Steve could have imagined the other teen was capable of feeling.

It’s enough to drain all the anger from Steve’s chest and have him trying to hold on. He doesn’t know what is pulling Billy away from him but he’s not giving in to it. Not without a fight.

“You don’t understand,” Billy begins, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then tell me. Tell me what I don’t understand.” Steve pleads.

“There's... there's more at stake. My parents... both sides of my family, they led the clan through the persecution and the witch wars before we settled here. The alpha’s heir is always selected from the same three families, and with my parents being from two of the strongest I was the obvious choice." Billy continues, each word seeming to cost him. "As the heir, everything I do reflects on my parents and the future of the pack, Steve.”

Steve's eyes widen slightly as pieces of the puzzle that is Billy Hargrove fall into place with painful realization.

“So you being top dog at school, and the way everyone treats you like some sort of king, that’s because you’re gonna be the next alpha?”

Billy nods slowly.

“I’ve known it all my life. Been looking forward to finding my mate and not being alone in it.” Billy adds, his voice roughening to a growl with emotion. “But with you…” His words trail off as if he’s afraid to finish the sentence.

“With me what?” Steve pushes bitterly, not willing to let him hide. “With me everyone will pity you, while you’re stuck carrying dead weight?”

Billy frowns. Shakes his head hard and snaps his teeth together with a click before grunting, “No. I didn’t say that!”

“You’re not saying much of anything! Except that humans are weak and I’m basically human so -”

“So what, you want me to say sorry?” Billy interjects with a snarl of frustration. “Sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities pointing out how frail humans are, but it won’t change shit. You get with me and there will be a target on your back. I can’t lead if I have to worry about protecting you!”

“Then don’t!” Steve shouts, beyond caring anymore that it’s probably not the best idea to get into a shouting match with a werewolf. “Don’t worry about protecting me!”

“I can’t help it, Steve!” Billy shouts right back, throwing his arms wide. “If I could quit it I would, but I think about you every minute of every day and I don’t know how to stop.”

For a moment they’re both frozen, staring at each other with wild eyes. Steve’s heart drums in his chest. Then he’s stepping forward, closing the gap between them. His hands are trembling as he reaches up to cup Billy's face between his hands. Billy’s breath hitches, his eyes locked on Steve, a turbulent sea of emotions swirling within them.

“Steve…” Billy whispers hoarsely, his voice breaking. But when Steve pushes himself up onto his toes he leans in, pressing his lips against Steve’s in a kiss that sears with intensity. It’s as though a dam breaks, days of pent-up longing and desire finally flowing free. And the truth long denied is, Steve has never wanted to fuck someone as badly as he wants to fuck Billy Hargrove.

Steve gasps into the kiss, taken aback by the powerful shock but unable to resist the addictive pleasure of it. Billy’s lips sting his, little electric shocks that send heat through his body and make Steve’s knees weak and his head dizzy. He wraps his arms around Billy's neck and holds on tight, demanding more with his mouth.

The world around them blurs into nothingness as the kiss deepens. Billy slides his hand up Steve's thigh, fingertips ghosting over the bulge in his jeans before resting just above his belt. Two fingers hook in his waistband and Steve moans softly.

Billy devours the sound, claiming Steve’s mouth like he’s trying to swallow him whole; but as the kiss grows more fervent, Steve can feel when Billy starts to change. Beneath his hands, Billy’s body begins to tense unnaturally, the skin rippling like disturbed water. The kiss ends abruptly as Billy groans, his brow creasing in pain.

“Billy?” Steve asks, concerned. Billy shudders.

“I—I have to stop…” he manages between gritted teeth. Billy breaks away suddenly from their embrace and steps back. His body is shaking now—but not just from desire. It’s something else. Something more primal.

“Billy? Billy what’s wrong?”

“I—I don’t know. This isn’t supposed to happen!”

Steve watches in confusion and then alarm as coarse hair begins to sprout along Billy’s forearm where his sleeves are rolled up.

“Holy shit.” He breathes in horrified realization. Because Billy is turning. Billy Hargrove is turning into a werewolf right now, and Steve is all alone. He has one split second to think that maybe things are okay. That just because Billy is turning doesn’t mean he has to be afraid. Billy will still be Billy, and the guy who just kissed him till he was hard in his jeans wasn’t about to turn around and slaughter him.

But then he actually looks at Billy again, sees the way his features have contorted and his eyes glow an unnatural yellow, and every instinct he has says it before Billy can.

“Run,” Billy growls out forcefully, already stumbling back further into the shadows under the trees where the moonlight doesn't reach. “Get back to the circle—now!”

Panic seizes Steve and without wasting another second he turns and runs back the way they came, toward the safety of his pack and the lanterns. Behind him, he hears a low growl dissolve into a long pained howl.

The sound tears at him and in his mind he sees Billy again, hunched over in pain, trying to hold himself together, the fear and apology in his eyes making human what could only be described as beastly. It’s crazy, but he wants to turn around and go back. Do something to ease the pain Billy is in. But another hair raising howl from somewhere behind him pushes him forward. Something tells him it would be a mistake to go back now.

Steve runs like his life depends on it, because it probably does.

Friendly tags for those who have asked in the past:

@darleenjade @sweetwaterangel @dragonflylady77 @natchula @tip-tap-tired @sparklingsprinkles @adelacreations @bluetree76 @deadfromtheneckdown @heavensfinest @marklee-blackmore @slightlydepressedmelon @percabeth-trashcan @a-lovely-craziness

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐖𝐞𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫

↳ summary: the janitor at your college is cute. too bad you're not the best at watching where you're going

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: sweet tooth—scott helman

masterlist | commissions | carrd

You had been running late to class when you met him.

Everyone had been crowding the building entrance that morning. It didn’t matter that you had set two alarms for the exact purpose of beating foot traffic that morning, or that you had skipped breakfast to make it to the lecture on time. Apparently nothing trumps the news of a published professor throwing himself from a three story window— at least that’s what you had bitterly thought to yourself while trying to push through a cluster of college kids.

College life was weird like that, you had come to learn.

Once you managed to part through the crowd— somehow surviving the abundance of school gossip that was only silenced by your occasional apology —you wasted no time in rushing through the scuffed hallways. Taking a few extra turns than usual, you opted for a shortcut you had only tried once or twice before in an attempt to avoid certain professors whose deadlines you had forgot about.

You didn’t see the wet floor sign, nor the damp mop resting on the wall, before it was too late and you were already belly up on the floor, blinking at the ceiling with widened eyes.

Your head gave a harsh throb. You touched it and frowned faintly. Ouch. That was going to hurt in a few hours.

“Woah!” Came a cheery call. It startled you momentarily, causing you to sit up. “I would tell you to slow down, but— ah, well, you know.”

It took you a second to process the strangers words, and before you knew why, you felt the back of your neck heat up. A brief moment passed as a strong feeling washed through you, and then again as you realized why. Ah, embarrassment. Your old friend.

“Need some help there?” The voice got closer, and it prompted your motor skills to finally kick into gear.

Picking up your bag that had fallen off during your tumble, your gaze finally lifted upwards. A gray jumpsuit and pair of keys stared back at you, and you mentally kicked yourself for not looking a little higher than the waist band. Whiskey-colored eyes and brown hair came into view after your second attempt, and you appreciated them a little more than the aforementioned utility belt.

The janitor’s lips were pulled up at the corners into an easy-going expression, and his top lip jutted out over his lower on slightly. His hair was pushed back slightly, and it looked like he had tried to style it this morning before eventually giving up and running a hand through it. You could relate to the feeling, and under different circumstances might have complimented him. He certainly was easy on the eyes, or easier than anyone you had seen on campus so far, but you felt like now wasn’t the time to put yourself out there. Tripping and eating shit can really do something for a persons self-confidence.

“Sorry for ruining the hallway, uh, mister?” Your voice was choppy as you apologized, and you cleared your throat awkwardly afterward in an attempt to get rid of any tightness. The janitor whose work you had just ruined gave you an oddly casual smile and extended his hand while keeping the other in his pocket lazily. You took it and shook, hoping your palm wasn’t too sweaty.

“Call me Gabriel.” He offered his name nonchalantly, but you caught a hint of hesitation behind his words. His breezy expression dipped into cautious territory for what couldn’t have been more than a second. You pretended not to notice, and gave him your name in return. His grin came back at full force.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You let go of his hand to chew at your fingers.

“Don’t worry, most of it was dry.” He waved his hand and put it on his hip. Tilting his head over your shoulder, you heard as he sucked his teeth, and you knew he was probably imagining the wet spot on the back of your clothes at the same time as you. “Er, yeah. Most of it.”

His eyes trailed over your face in the moment of silence that followed. They seemed to be looking for something, and the sudden switch in tone left you to clench your jaw awkwardly. You stood there plainly, wondering if you should offer to help him redo it— or whatever he would need to do to fix your mistake —before he suddenly smiled again and gestured to a watch on his wrist. Funny. You hadn’t remembered that being there before.

“Shit!” The sight of the clock’s minute hand all but slapped you in the face as you scrambled to take your leave, patting yourself down as you hurried to collect your things and get out of there. You only stopped to turn around and walk backwards, gesturing stiffly to your surroundings.

“I’m gonna be late but, uhm, you sure I can’t—?” You weren’t exactly sure what you were offering to do, but Gabriel seemed to understand nonetheless. He grinned brightly, chewing on something you hadn’t seen him pop into his mouth earlier. A closer look told you it was bubble gum, and you felt odd for noticing such a small detail.

“Nah, you’re good kid. Stay safe. Try not to slip on anymore floors around here.” He waved you off with a wink of molten gold eyes, hands already reaching for the mop against the wall and beginning to wield it.

The nickname made you pause— he couldn’t have been but ten years older than you, and looked even younger —but you shook it off and started down the hallway as fast as your legs would allow, wincing as your stomach grumbled all the way to your lecture hall. You didn’t see as Gabriel paused behind you, waiting for you to turn down the hallway before snapping his fingers. He turned back to his work with a little whistle, mopping over the spot where you had fallen with an energy that hadn’t been there before.

It wasn’t until you were already sitting in class, digging through your bag for a spare pen, that you noticed the lollipop resting atop your books innocently.

[pyrorptrs]

<h1>Justice League Redesigns</h1>

My takes on initial Justice League designs, specifically the founding members!

Superman - Did my initial drawing of this design a year or so ago, so my memories on why I used certain aspects might be a bit fuzzy. Not a fan of how the New 52 and DCEU had been limiting Supes suit down to just a blue suit, a red cape, and maybe a belt, so I wanted to incorporate more of a classic look to him. So I added red trimming to the "shirt" to help give him a more bulked up look and made the usually trunks more of a pattern on the pants. I also gave him proper gloves since it seems weird that an investigative reporter wouldn't consider leaving fingerprints behind a bit of a problem (especially since a good chunk of his villains are super intelligent). I wanted to incorporated his cape into his symbol since it always seems odd to me when it's just drawn on top of his shoulders. I also tried to incorporate the diamond shape of his symbol on other parts of his suit like on the back of his gloves and his belt buckle. Yellow seems to kind of come and go in his pallet, so I figured if I was going to use it, so I tried to incorporate it as a more regular detailing throughout the suit, further color blocking his gloves, boots, and belt.

Batman - While Batman's colors tend to lean more into Greys and Blacks with maybe some yellow for detailing, I do like the darker Blue he used to sport in the comics and wanted to incorporate it while keep the later; so I used it not only for his gloves and boots and to line his cape, but I also gave him some extra padding on his costume that can double as storage for extra gadgets or to store evidence. I made his bat-symbol notably large and yellow since canonically it's typically reinforced to act as a false bullseye for grunts and tried to keep it somewhat squared off to standout from other bat-family members. Finally I tried to make his utility belt kinda boxy and bulky since it's usually a focus on a lot of his designs.

Wonder Woman - Took inspiration from a few different sources for my take on a Wonder Woman. I took a lot of inspiration from the DCEU version for the basic shape of the outfit, particularly the bracers/aegis, her sandles and grieves, the skirt, and how I shaped out her top. Gave her shoulder pads like the DCSHG version and tried to incorporate a bit of that blue hue into her hair. I also like the cape/shaw thing that the Arkhamverse version had and tried doing something similar. finally I tried to make her tiara a bit more armored to lean even more into her warrior princess look (plus I don't think she's used it as a weapon since the Super Friends days). I also tried to give her more of a tan to lean into her greek heritage.

Green Lantern 1 - Every JL needs a Lantern and since Hal Jordan is usually the first I figured I'd get him out of the way. Not much to say, mostly went with his more classic look, but updating it a bit to spread the white in his costume out a bit more.

Flash - Tried to add and change a few details on my take of a Barry Allen Flash, so that I can do a couple takes on Wally West versions when/if I get to him. kept that classic lightning lining on his boots and gloves and tried to incorporate another lightning pattern on his chest and helmet. I also tried to keep his boots and gloves predominantly red to further separate him from the classic Wally Flash suit, but still included some yellow bits to help highlight his hands and feet. I did try to make his cowl look like it's made of a harder material, but tried to avoid making it look TOO much like a helmet. I also added made the ear-dealies simple straight lines since I think it works better for Barry. finally I made the belt made out of simple rectangular shapes offset to get that lightning look without having it be actually lightning and also included them on his sides as pockets for proteins bars and such

Aquaman - I leaned heavily into taking inspiration from the BtBatB version of Aquaman for my take since I hate how hard a lot of other creators try to make him "cool". though since the Aquaman movie represented the orange part as "armor" I did also try to lean into that as well.

Martian Manhunter - Like Wonder Woman I took a lot of inspiration from all over the place for Martian Manhunter. I tried to take some DCAU inspiration for his face, Took some influence from the modern comics and Injustice for his general costume plus the symbol, I also tried to elongate his head like some of the mid-2000's-mid-2010's animated movies. I did also try to keep some of his classic blue mixed in with the black so it doesn't get as boring as it can get in some interpretations. finally I tried to make him a bit more gangly in terms of proportions to lean into his alien origins a bit more.

[eddsworld-the-masquerade]

Blog update: “About” and “Characters” pages rewrite 

First of, happy new year everyone! Hoping this one doesn’t end me for good haha. 

As stated above, “About” and “Characters” pages have been updated with new info, character description, sheets and art (which you see in this post). You’ll need to open the blog in browser in order to view these pages. Keep in mind that it’s all subject to change given that the story is still in early development (I wrote down 1/4 of the script plan so far) and I might get rid of things I feel I can’t utilize properly. 

I’m also opening the ask box again, so if the text inspires you or makes you wonder certain things, you can drop your message there :) I can’t promise I’ll be quick to answer and I probably won’t be able to answer all of your asks but I’ll do my best to read through them all. 

Under the cut is rest of the concept art (and some of my rambling) so I don’t make the post too bloated to scroll through:

Edd’s style is still considered “weird” but in a more obnoxious and bold way. It’s screaming “Look at me! Look at me! I’ll have you look my way like it or not!”. I like the silly thought of him coming to embrace larger suits thanks to his sire. It is comfortable! And one of the kind - if you were wondering for what purpose Edd needs sewing skills, that’s the answer :)  

Tord lost his iconic sweater and scarf. I gotta say I wasn’t sure if bare chest idea would work out but I’m glad I tried it cuz heck yeah it did. Love it or hate it Tord doesn’t give a damn 😎   His fake horns are now slicked back which makes him look like a disgruntled kitten lol And I added a belt buckle, it’s a skull being crushed by a hammer (roughly designed after thor’s hammer as a nod to his origin); it carries a certain personal significance too 

Matt style is still inspired by vintage suits and illustrations but customized for personal taste. Like the vest being asymmetrical, or the suit being more “flappy” and with a big cutout on the back. It’s sort of a way of saying “I might be playing by the rules but I do it my own way”. He is ultimate bishounen now and his power is mesmerizing enemies with that iconic anime stare and sound effects (this is a joke, but a joke I love) 

Tom had it worst XD but also I had the most fun with him. The pale yellow parts on his body are supposed to be bone and um...shell...thing...you know when something spends a lot of time in the water in the open sea and you get it out and it’s covered in those THINGS yeah I can’t find the word but hopefully you got my point hahaha. It was hard to keep him as monstrous as possible but also recognizable but I think giving him the monster tom color palette did the job. Also yes he got scales. And the texture I did on his skin is supposed to be semi-transparent...like jello maybe? he’s hideous and a pain to color and i love him lol

I also did this little relationship chart to explain changes in the well relationships in-group! 

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #29

Robin (1993) #86 writer: Ed Brubaker art: Jacob & Arnold Pander

Birds of Prey (1999) #27 writer: Chuck Dixon pencils: N. Steven Harris

Catwoman (1993) #90 writer: Bronwyn Carlton pencils: Mike Lilly

Last time we looked at Batgirls sort of stand alone tie in to the Officer Down crossover, which ended with Cass abandoning her solo detective efforts on the case to meet up with the rest of the clan. This time we see her showing up as a side character in the crossover proper, already in progress. She doesn't have too big a role in things, though, so I think it's fair to cram her remaining Officer Down appearances into a single post.

Robin 86 covers the bat crew learning about Gordon being shot and collecting at the hospital to comfort Babs and start to plan. Batman gets real grumpy about it, attacking a random thug when he first hears about Gordon, hitting Dick when he tries to hold Bruce back, and then just brooding over Gordon's unconscious body while the rest are sent out to actually catch the shooter.

Cass is there for some of that, but not really saying or doing too much, so we're mostly looking at the art. Iirc, the Pander Bros are new artists to this retrospective. So how's their Cass?

Remember last time how I mentioned how depicting cass as a shadowy silhouette or trying to convey how she moves was more effective at making her spooky and intimidating than emphasizing the stitches in her mask or just giving her an angry face or whatever? This is the kind of stuff I was talking about there. Not enough to have stitches over the mouth, the Panders make her entire suit stitched together, like Catwoman in Batman Returns. They also drop her chunky yellow utility belt - and frequently also the yellow bat-symbol on her chest, though that might be a colorist issue.

I don't think they do a bad job exactly, apart from their super angular cartoony style not really clicking with me, but that's an aesthetic preference, not a judgment on quality. But the lack of facial expression in their Cass really hurts here.

I mean, at least there's some body language & physicality put into comforting Babs here, and it's nice that Babs looks to Cass in this one panel/moment here.

And I also like this bit, where Cass is the first to notice that Bruce is already in the room with Jim.

...

So Catwoman was seen at the scene where Gordon was shot, and they were feuding recently, so she's the prime suspect even if gun murder isn't really her style. The bat crew, minus Bruce, try to track her down, eventually leading to them interrupting a museum heist, but it turns out to be Harley Quinn running interference for Selina.

I like N. Steven Harris's general style more than the Panders, but he makes some weird decisions with Cass.

Combat Heels? Really?

This is a writing thing, so more on Dixon than Harris again, but...

has the memo not yet gotten around that Cass can talk now? She could just ask 'where is Catwoman'?

are we supposed to believe she can write the word 'woman' but not the word 'cat'? The cat part she has to draw?

This is kind of silly and ridiculous.

Mostly she's just kind of standing around in group shots in this one, and she looks fine.

The only real character beat Cass gets in this one is this extra and unnecessary kick at Harley Quinn at the end. Kind of mean spirited, which doesn't exactly fit Cass's usual character, but she's frustrated and her friend is hurting so I can't exactly say lashing out like this is exactly out of character either.

...

The last issue with Harley Quinn was mostly just spinning wheels to spread the crossover to one more title, Catwoman 90 actually advances the plot with the crew tracking Selina down, capturing her, and getting her version of the story - that another cop shot the commissioner.

Is Mike Lilly also a new artist for Cass? 3 for 3 new artists this week? I probably like his version of Batgirl the best out of the three today, but it does suffer noticeably from 'only knows how to draw one body type for female characters' syndrome.

It's a cute line I guess, but Selina has met Cass before. They had a whole little side adventure.

That's-not-Cass body measurements aside, Lilly does a great job of portraying just how athletic and acrobatic Cass is in just a few panels, how overwhelming her skill is in a physical confrontation. Selina pretty easily slipped past Dick, Tim, and Jean-Paul before this, but she just can't shake Cass.

Later on Cass is also the one who retrieves the shooter's gun from the vent Selina stowed it in:

Nice to see her and Jean-Paul working together in a nod to some of the No Man's Land stuff.

....

Overall three new artistic takes on Cass-Batgirl, and while I have my gripes about each none of them are bad exactly. It's nice that she's here for the crossover event, not left out entirely, and the writing teams remember enough of her character that she's making a show of consoling Barbara, or just naturally teaming up with Jean-Paul. It's also nice that she's treated as the most physically adept member of the bat team.

On the other hand, I'm not sure word has gotten around that she can talk now? The whole point of making her able to talk was so that she didn't fall into the vaguely racial trope of the silent faceless ninja, but that's still very much the role she's filling here.

I'd also mentioned earlier in discussing No Man's Land and more broadly the characterization of Bruce at the time kind of fell into a recurring rut. Something bad would happen that would remind Bruce of how little control he really had over the random injustice of the world, something that would put him back in the headspace of that little boy watching his parents murdered in front of him, and in response he would emotionally seize up and push his surrogate family away, only to later re-(re-re-re-)learn that he can't just do everything on his own and isolating himself only makes things worse and found family is good and he needs to rely on his friends, etc etc.

Officer Down is the start of another of these cycles, and while Gordon survives his injuries, he does retire. And Bruce's behavior towards the others while he's afraid Gordon will die is obnoxious enough that Alfred quits? To teach him a lesson by isolating him? Seems suspect, but whatever. Bruce just in general gets more grumpy and obnoxious for a while in a way that feels pretty repetitive with No Mans Land, a rut that continues to repeat going forward well after the writers seem to have tired of it.

And as a Cass fan it's kind of frustrating, because, again, her entire character concept was designed in dialog with exactly this version of Bruce, and the arc that it felt at the time she was building towards would have given the writers a natural way to write Bruce out of this rut.

It sort of writes itself - something happends that forces Bruce to acknowledge Cass's murder - maybe she finally breaks down and confesses it to him directly. He doesn't take it well, it leads to conflict between them, expanding out into conflict with the rest of the team. Eventually this conflict forces Bruce and Cass to confront and overcome their internalized guilt issues together, probably while physically fighting each other. The resolution of this forces Bruce to acknowledge that it's unprocessed guilt - not anger - that's been driving him to push everyone away. In offering Cass the forgiveness she needs he also learns to forgive himself, and comes out of the whole thing as more mellow and better-socially-adjusted batman, one who at the very least turns to his found family in a crisis instead of always reflexively pushing them away.

Bits and pieces of this narrative show up here and there going forward, but the whole arc never really coalesces. And while eventually there was a shift to a less grumpy and self-isolating Batman, I don't remember any particular catharsis bringing him to that point - though to be fair I wouldn't have seen it if it didn't involve Cass, so *shrug*.

[beelicious-and-fictitious]

Getting Off

❤ A Valentine's Day Special! ❤

Summary || [Walter “Keys” McKeys X Female Reader SMUT] the cop arresting you is wearing a cock ring and you get out of trouble by bending over for him. 

Free City AU | 3.5k words | NO BETA/ SELF- EDITED, Swearing, Valentine’s Day Theme, Prompt: “Day Three + Walter McKeys + Ring,” Dubious Consent, Impersonating A Police Officer, Car Theft, Mentions of Toxic On-And-Off Relationship, Infidelity, Vibrating Sex Toy, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Manhandling, Torn Clothes, Size Kink, From Behind, Hair Pulling, Rough Sex, Creampie (Please Use Protection IRL Use Condoms), Cockwarming

More Valentines! | Other Keery Fics | Main Masterlist 

Stupid fucking car. Stupid money hustling boyfriend. How hard is it to give a fuck about Valentine’s Day? It's one day a year! You have tried everything: begging, screaming, dropping hints like an anvil, sending yourself your own fucking flowers, making the dinner reservations and handing him the fuck details just so he shows up, fucking his best friend. But year after year, February 14th rolls on and your boyfriend does nothing. He was either stealing away to a basketball game, cajoling a client at his day job to buy into one of his entrepreneurships (which would fail like all the others had, or refused to leave the house gym because he had to “get swole.” 

The entrepreneur shit pisses you off the most– you are professional bank robbers! Who needs a legitimate job when crime pays so well?! 

So this year, you stole his favorite car! This particular make and model of super car went from 0 to 90 in a second flat, though you could tell from the way it accelerated and decelerated was weighed down by all the added armor plating. The paint job is obnoxious neon colors with the graphics from his shitty mandom podcast.

Now you could have stepped on the gas when the cop car behind you turned on their lights. You could probably make it by crossing over county lines and out of his jurisdiction. But you have had enough of car chases for a while and pull over instead. As long as your boyfriend hasn't reported it as stolen yet, you’re probably fine. 

A set of knuckles wraps on the window and you roll it down. “Afternoon officer, how can I–” 

“Turn the ignition off,” he interrupts you gruffly and leans down to glare at you. This part of Free City is flat and dry, no shade to hide you from the burning rays of the sun and air conditioning is the only thing keeping you from fainting, but you turn it off anyways, hoping he'll be quick about this stop given he should also be extremely hot, too. 

Slicked back chestnut brown hair and a comb for a mustache. His eyes were hidden by a pair of reflective aviators (of course), his shirt collar was open at the throat in the heat and his white undershirt glowed pristinely. His big, meaty hands were tucked by the thumbs into his utility belt, and your eyes dragged lustfully back up his lean torso to his freckled, handsome face– well he would be handsomer if he wasn’t wearing the meanest fucking scowl. 

“Got a hot date?,” he asks with sarcasm dripping from his voice. “That why you’re driving so fucking fast? 60’s not enough for you?” 

“‘M so sorry officer,” you say, distracted by a light buzzing sound (was that his radio maybe?). “I, like, dropped my phone and stupidly tried to pick it up and my foot pressed down on the gas and, and…” 

His uniform makes you double take. It’s tight on him– you only need to look at the bulge of his crotch to see that– but it’s also the wrong color for this area. That shade of navy blue is reserved for Free City’s urban jurisdiction… but he pulled you over in the sticks, nothing but desert and meth dens and old highways like the one you’re on. He should be wearing khaki, he should be a state trooper or something, right? And what the fucking is that buzzing! 

“Hey,” the weird cop snapped, “I said. License. And registration, ma’am.” 

Shit, shit, shit. It’s not your car and you were driving twice the speed limit and you can get in trouble anyways. “Yeah! Grabbing it! My license… but I should tell you this is my boyfriend's car, that’s why I'm not on the registration.” 

The cop– his name tag says Keys– hums mockingly. He snatches your wallet from your hands and walks back to his patrol car (also weird looking, might be missing decoration on the door but it could just be your position in the sun) without waiting for you to fumble for the registration. Fuck, fuck– this wouldn’t be the first time a cop fucking robbed you, how much cash did you have in that thing this time?!

You check the rearview mirror and see nothing but the cop's head looking down in the driver's seat, possibly entering something into his laptop– fuck again. You’ve got a record– who the fuck doesn’t have a record in this fucking city– so there’s no way you’ll get away with just a warning. Even a speeding ticket was seemingly unlikely given Officer Keys shit attitude. You need to have the registration before he gets back or he’ll become insufferable. 

“Okay,” you take a deep breath to calm down and pull the glove box handle, only to have it fall open and dump paper, dime bags, and guns into the passenger seat and onto the floor. “Oh, motherfucker!” 

There’s a gun– there’s two guns laying on the floor of the car in plain sight and a pissy cop who will be back any minute looking for probable cause to arrest you. You rip your hand back like the guns were going to explode and your blood pressure only raises more when you realize there’s no way to dig anything resembling a registration out of that mess without getting your ass shot. 

Defeated, you cover your face with your hands. Maybe you could get out of the car and drop straight to your knees. It would piss the cop off as he didn’t tell you to get out and he’d obviously fucking shoot at you but maybe he’d just graze you for climbing out instead of unloading his whole fucking clip if he finds you staying– 

A shadow falls over your body, one you feel rather than see as you the boiling directness of the sunlight washes away. “UHm…” 

You hear the cop sigh and pull your car door open. “Step out of the vehicle slowly and with your hands out.” 

The curses flooding your brain overwhelm you. It’s fucking Valentine’s Day! You should be sipping champagne and getting your back blown out in a luxury sized bathtub, not harassed by a city cop in the desert and taking the fall for your loser boyfriend’s coke and unregistered weapons. 

“I said get out of the car!” The cop grabs you with his thick hands (hands that you had, for half a second, wanted on you before you remember he’s a damn cop) wrapped around your thighs to drag you out faster.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, stop!” Shaking, you hold your hands out in front of you and try your best to roll your body off of your back on the very edge of the seat. He was the one who commanded you to move slowly, but now he was impatient and this time his big hands capture your waist, making you flinch a second before you are ripped upwards into his chest, nearly hitting your head on the low rise of the car cabin door. “I didn’t know that was in there! Jesus Christ!” 

You never expected to feel hatred when a hot man’s body was pressed against your back, but today you’ll make an exception for this prick. High off his authority, officer Keys kicks the car door closed with so much force that a cool breeze kicks up among the dust. Then he slams you bodily into the hot car body and probably delights in the angry shriek that leaves you. 

“You fucking asshole!” All the fear that had been bubbling in you earlier turns to anger for a moment and you try to push off the hot car to free yourself unsuccessfully. 

The cop groans in response– probably the weirdest thing about this exchange, it almost sounds… sexual? “Keep talking, baby. Maybe the courts will give you a nickel and a dime to serve!” 

He forces your arms up and behind your head and starts patting his belt for his handcuffs. He grunts, and this time it sounds repressed, like he was trying to keep it down… that’s when you realize the bump in his tight pants is pressing hard into you… and vibrating. 

Your mouth falls open and dries up instantly in the dry desert air. “...are you wearing a cock ring?” 

“What?” You can still hear him fumbling for the handcuffs, his other hand so tight on your wrists that it hurts. “Shut up.” 

You push back with your hips and feel him counter you– and you would have believed it was just him being pissy about you not holding still, if it weren’t for the way his hips roll at the end. Effectively rubbing his very hard cock into your ass to get some friction. It’s embarrassing when it suddenly feels like the hot air around you is suddenly inside of you, spinning into a ball and writhing like fighting cobras in your gut. 

You desparately need a way out of this dilemma and you may have found it. “Fuck me…” 

The cop hummed, slapping a silver cuff on your wrist. “What did you say?” 

“I said–” you pull your arms until your elbows graze the painfully hot roof of the car. Because your motion was unexpected, the cop startles and freezes when he feels your head lay on his shoulder. You can peer past his sunglasses at his indignant, brown eyes. “Fuck. Me. I don’t want to go to jail for my trash boyfriend, and you don’t want to be suspended for sexual deviancy on the job, do you? Win–Win.” 

“Who said I wanted to fuck you, huh?” The cop, less angry and more amused now, tightens the other cuff to your wrist and braces his hand on your chest. “If you’re stupid enough to steal your boyfriend’s car full of illegal shit and get pulled over, who’s to say you're not stupid enough to give me a venereal disease, you little slut?” 

You pout. “... I didn’t steal his car and I don’t have a disease. And don’t fucking call me a slut!” 

But officer Keys just laughs at your indignance. “Open your mouth for me, cupcake.” 

You do what he says cautiously and are instantly gagged by his fingers. You can taste dust on his dry skin as well as something foul like oil. It’s entirely reactionary when your teeth close around the intrusion, and officer Keys grunts and draws them back but not fully out. Now that you know what to expect, it only takes a second to relax and allow him to press his fingers deeper into your mouth again, struggling to fight back your gag reflex and remember how to take it. He’s testing you but it doesn’t take long for you to ease into it, even sucking on them and swirling your tongue for him. 

“Atta girl,” the cop purrs, “yeah, yeah. Oh, I can work with this. You can deepthroat, right? You’re gonna need to be able to swallow the whole sword.” 

You nod your head and then find yourself suddenly unbalanced. The officer’s fingers pull free with a wet pop and he takes a massive step back from where he was crushing you against the car. You are stopped from falling by the very strong grip that takes hold at the back of your neck and he commands you to drop to your knees. Hot car, hot pavement, by the end of this, you’re going to have burns and bruises. You delicately squat instead of kneeling, wishing you had your knee pads or a jacket to throw down for protection but Keys is already unbuckling his belt. 

Your lip curls impatiently as you wait for him to finish pulling his dick out. A part of you wants to smack the sunglasses right off his face or pull his gun and shoot him, but you know it’ll do you no good in the long run. And as he uncovers his junk, the sound of vibrating gets louder. There's a wet patch on his underwear that you immediately forget about when he pulls the waistband down and his fat cock pops up. 

"Jesus Christ–"you gasp and try to protect your mouth, turning away from the sight before you but unable to tear away completely. 

It appears Keys is a meticulous groomer below the belt, too. The cock ring is glittery cyan blue, a ring around his balls and another around his cock making them both flushed red and veiny. You watch him twist the vibrating plate around his swollen flesh and use his other hand to pull back his foreskin. 

"Hey! Tick tock, cupcake," he says as he winds his hand in your hair and starts to pull you forward. "I'm on the clock and we're running out of daylight." 

Time to work for your freedom.  

Gathering saliva in your mouth, you wrap a hand around the base (fuck, your fingers don’t touch your thumb) and with your other hand still cuffed, you push the vibrating plate to his balls. Keys pulls his phone from his pocket and turns up the vibe via remote app, causing his hips to jerk and leave a wet smear of pre-cum under your nose. 

“Okay deep breath, baby.” The hand in your hair pushes you forward and despite the warning, you still gag when he slides right back and hits the back of your throat. “Uho, more.” 

He barely pulls back to let you suck in a new breath before he’s back at it, pushing you down on him despite your squirming resistance until your nose is buried in his short pubes. Your hands drop to his thighs and your nails leave red scratches on the pale white skin, tears gathering on your lashes until you are able to take one shaking breath through your nose. 

You should be mad, but the simpering whine he makes fills you with pride instead. It was impressive for you to take all that cock on one go. Your sex pulses with need and you don’t even notice your knees are on the hot pavement. 

“Swallow, baby, come on,” he praises as he looks down at you, his sunglasses moved off his sweaty nose to his head so he can better. 

Your jaw aches fiercely but you manage to obey and Keys’ moans at the feeling of your throat constricting his length. “Good girl, fuck.” 

Finally, Keys releases you and you’re able to gasp and cough and catch your breath while you stroke him to keep him happy. Your preferences for servicing him begin to shift as you feel your underwear slicken and stick to your outer lips. The last time you had good dick was probably that bank bathroom mid-heist (that janitor was packing just like this). This cop may be a complete asshole and a pervert, but damn it a huge dick was always going to do something for you! 

“Officer?” Keys looks down at you with slight disdain. He does admire the glistening drool on your chin and the wetness of your lashes, and he’s quickly distracted by your leaning back to squeeze your breast over your top. You’re going to ask him for something he fully intends to deny you until… 

“I’m so wet, please please…” you bite your lip unconsciously and make him watch you touch yourself to tell him about your soaked panties. “You can fuck me as hard as you want, don’t even need a condom, baby, please…” 

Officer Keys seemed to like the sound of that very, very much. He hauls you to your feet and walks you backwards twenty feet to his patrol cruiser. Still handcuffed, you can’t do much except obey and try not to trip over your own feet and fall. He keeps a tight hand on your arm as he swings open a door in the back before shoving you in halfway. You feel him yank your bottoms down your thighs and spit on your slick and puffy folds. 

“O-ho, baby,” he cooes almost mockingly and runs a calloused thumb over your clit, “how bad did you need to be fucked? You are one lucky girl that I pulled you over, aren’t you?” 

You try to answer him but he smacks your pussy and you shriek instead. 

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” he says, stroking his length still dripping with saliva, “nice and easy…” 

And then you feel the head of his cock pressed against your entrance and realize he is not going to stretch you out first even with that monster. On a long exhale, you force your body to relax but still you squeal a little as you feel him begin to fill your channel. For all his perverse snarling and coldness, he does exhibit some level of mercy as he doesn’t make you take too much all at once. It’s still a bit of a painful stretch but he moves slowly right up until he bottoms out inside you and growls loudly. 

“Goddamn!” You feel him grind against your hips and the cock ring vibe bumps your clit adding pleasure over the slight pain. “Haven’t fucked a pussy this tight since the Penris Bank robbery.” 

He starts moving in you, but your mind is somewhere else. Penris Bank has only ever been successfully robbed once in thirty years. You did that– I mean, you and your crew did that. Walked away with 20 mil each. Okay, your crew robbed the bank while you got your back blown out in the executive office bathroom suite. Hold the fucking phone– 

“Oh my god, you’re not a fucking cop!” In the blink of an eye, you realize how blind you’ve been. How could you forget that dick? Just because it was cosplaying as a police officer? So stupid. “Fucking asshole!” 

You try to struggle out of his grasp, but Janitor Keys adjusts his grip on your hips and lifts you up until your legs are kicking uselessly and he’s spear heading his cock into your g-spot. And as angry as you are, you can’t resist the coiling fire in your gut turning your arms to jelly or punching some high pitched moans out of you. 

“That’s it, kitten, purr!” Keys laughs and fucks you faster. “You missed this dick, huh baby?” 

You grumble and he smacks your ass so hard it stings. “I can’t hear you, bitch, did you miss this dick?!” 

“Yes,” you cry and drop your chin to your chest and throw your head back when he starts furiously circling your clit. “Yes, fuck! No one fucks me like you do–” 

“Fucking A’ right, baby…” 

Your feet find purchase on the car floor allowing you to brace against the heavy assault and push back, taking him even deeper. If a car packed full of people wolf whistling and shouting obscenities drove by, you hardly noticed, except for Keys' prideful wave as they disappeared. 

"Fuck, fuck," your stomach tightened painfully and tears gathered on your lashes. The bumping of the cock ring vibe slapping against your clit does you in and you collapse, gushing all over your partner's cock and soaking his pants. 

You feel lightheaded as you are gently laid out in the backseat of the faux cop car on your stomach with Keys cock still deep inside you. It only takes him three or four thrusts before he stills with a grunt and pumps you full of his cum. One of his hands rubs your back just like he had done when he finished on your stomach at the bank. 

Damn, you really had missed him. 

Catching your breath, you lift your head and turn a bit, then smack him across his face. Keys looks at you wide eyed, sunglasses gone and fake mustache peeling off his upper lip. 

"Ow…" He swallows and ducks his head to mumble, "okay, I guess I deserved that. Sorry."

You lay your head on your arms, feeling exhaustion wash over you as the role play ends. 

"...you know if you want, you can come over to my place and uh," Keys voice drifts off as he traces shapes on the soft skin between your shoulder blades. "I've got this huge bathtub in my penthouse thanks to the cut you gave me. We can, I dunno, throw some rose petals everywhere and drink champagne since it's Valentine's day." 

You lift your head again and give him a puzzled look. "Why would you do that?" 

Keys is a great actor because the way he blushes now is so sincere that you almost forget he was manhandling you not five minutes ago. 

"Because I like you, and you deserve it…?" 

Well, if your shit boyfriend wasn't going to spend Valentine's day with you… "fuck it, sure. But you need to clean this up and tell me what the fuck you are doing in a cop uniform!" 

Keys finally pulls his overstimulated cock out, leaving you empty and leaking but he massages your sore flesh to ease the slight pain. "Happy to tell you everything! We've got all night, if you want." 

And he leans over you one more time to plant a kiss on your temple before climbing back to eat his cum out of you. 

It looks like you are in for a great Valentine's day!

More Valentines! | Main Masterlist

So I was deadass going to scrap this entire fic several times, but I feel like I managed to work around the whole "fucking a cop" aspect. Drop a like if you liked this and leave a comment or anon ask if you wanna let me know what you liked about it!

[saving-ray-23]

BATGIRL (ELEVEN)

Coach Yeoh was a master of all trades, it seemed. Lacrosse coach by day, seamstress by night. She had heard from James that she was a small, tiny fan of Batman and went nuts. The next day, she was presented with a dark purple jacket make of leather, a bright yellow bat-symbol on the chest. It was badass to say the least, not to mention one-of-a-kind.

And when Barbara asked how she got it, all the Coach said was that she knew a guy. By Friday, the costume was complete and awesome. Coach Yeoh had found this cape that clipped onto the jacket shoulders and a utility belt dyed bright yellow filled with dollar tree smoke bombs, safety pins, and a couple fake batarangs from Toys-R-Us. Barbara cleaned a pair of black jeans and laced tightly the yellow boots she had gotten for Bess too long ago to remember. She never got a chance to give them to her, but with all the effort Coach Yeoh was putting into the costume, she couldn't find a good excuse to not wear them. Last was a dark coat of greasepaint in a stripe across her face and with her hair braided back and most of her face hidden under the hood of the jacket, she was a female Batman.

It was extremely dorky, but that night, she just felt . . . cool.

James and his girlfriend were going as police officers— most likely a slight towards the Commissioner, but Babs tried not to overthink it. It was a party— something fancier than the annual Policeman's ball but hopefully not as awkward as a Gotham Academy Formal.

When they got there, it was a mess. Mostly adults, already taking advantage of the open bar and lack of more than three kids. She mentally sighed, watching her cousin's girlfriend practically dive into the crowd.

"You know," James said, leaning closer. "I heard Bruce Wayne's here tonight."

Babs tensed, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to stay calm. "He's probably enjoying the chaos."

Just because his dad was there, Dick didn't necessarily have to be. She remembers him once saying he hated to stuffy balls and galas. Said it was all old ladies pinching his cheeks and saying how much he'd grown.

The costume ball seemed nothing like the boring events he'd described.

Squeezing her shoulder once, James disappeared into the crowd with an easy grin, as though he hadn't just dropped a bomb on Barbara.

She gravitated towards the nearest table, slumping in the seat. The lights were dimmed and the music was loud— something felt weird about the situation. Lex Luthor was nowhere to be seen, though she doubted he attended most of his parties. The bald-headed Superman-hater gave off more of a Gatsby vibe; throwing the party to show off all his riches without actually being apart of the party.

She looked around the scene, eyes searching for Lois Lane. Only Lois Lane. She wouldn't look for Dick buttface the third because he was a jerk who—

Who was kissing Jenny Addams?

Barbara felt— she felt—

She didn't know how she felt. Dick— she'd been mad at him for so long because he pretended to be her friend, just like everyone else. Because he wouldn't leave her alone— because he kept spamming her with bullshit apologies.

Because she thought he was better than that.

And she had felt bad for a while, too. She didn't like making people feel bad, even jerks who totally deserved it. It just made her feel bad and them feel bad and most of the time it wasn't worth it.

But clearly Dick didn't feel bad. Not at all. He was just perfect. Probably breathless because he hadn't come up for air in—

Standing, Barbara stormed out the doors.

__

It took Barbara nearly an hour to get back to Somerset. She had texted James after a while, letting him know she wasn't feeling well and left early. It wasn't really a lie. Seeing Dick suck face made her want to hurl.

Six subway stops later, she was following her phone's GPS back towards her house, wanting the quickest way back. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep for the next week.

"Stop— stop it!"

Babara's head whipped up from her phone, eyes straining to see in the darkness of Gotham. The costume's cape billowed around her in the wind, purple glinting in the moonlight. A flash of silver caught her eyes and then she made out two figures in the alleyway.

A smart person would turn and walk away. She was tired and just a kid, no real experience fighting off the mats. 

But, the woman was screaming for help and Babs had some anger she needed to expel.

Launching forward, she tackled the guy to the ground, fist colliding with his jaw. The leather gloves she wore did little to soften the blow, but the large figure still flipped her off of him, both rolling to stand. She fell into ready position easily, fists high and feet spread. This was just like the spars in the dojo— except, the guy was a lot bigger than the teenagers she usually fought with and he had a knife Babs had only just noticed.

Using one hand to hold the knife away from her, she rammed her hand hard against his forearm, his fingers losing their grip and the blade falling to the ground. Punching him square in the jaw, Barbara watched in shock as he crumpled to the ground unconscious. Blinking, she reached for the thin rope hanging from her fake utility belt, tying his wrists tightly.

Standing, Babs turned towards the crying lady, surprised she hadn't run off. Her bracelet was broken on the ground, but other than that, she seemed . . . fine. A little hysterical, but fine.

"What— who— " The woman gasped, looking her up and down.

Barbara felt good— the summertime high she'd been on seemed like nothing compared to the adrenaline rushing through her. She opened her mouth to respond, about to answer the woman when her phone went off.

COMMISH

The Commissioner was texting, asking where she was. She never told him she was going to the party— figured she'd be back before he even got home. But now— now, she had knuckles that were surely going to bruise and a woman was crying in front of her. If she told him what happened, he'd never let her leave the house. When she was a kid, he was always preaching to her how dangerous it was to be a vigilante— to run from danger, not towards it. Granted, her stopped caring so much about what Barbara did in the past few years, but still. Barbara Gordon stopping a robbery wouldn't stay secret long.

Good thing she wasn't dressed like Barbara Gordon at the moment. The purple grease paint around her eyes suddenly felt like a really good idea.

"Who are you?" The woman breathed more evenly now, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"I'm just, uh . . . a friend?" She winced internally, feeling like she'd just quoted the worst action movie of the decade.

The sound of sirens rang out in the distance, maybe five blocks away. She winced— the costume might've fooled the scared woman, but she doubted the cops wouldn't recognize her.

"I, uh, I've gotta go." She explained badly, double-checking that the thin nylon once apart of her costume was holding the crook in place. "Sorry about your necklace!"

She ran down the alleyway, ducking around a corner and down the street. She was close enough to her house to make it before the cops could even get a statement from the woman. Babs had gotten away.

Gotten away. God, she sounded like a criminal.

Criminal.

She'd just stopped a crime! Saved some woman! She was a savior!

It felt pretty great.

[yummyyume]

Maribat soulmates AU

I wrote most of it a year ago, but never got around to posting it. It’s probably been done before, but I’m a sucker for soulmate AU, so you people are getting it anyway. 

Hope you all like it!

I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors, English is not my first language. I hope it’s still intelligible.

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General headcanons for the AU:

-Soulmates share the same skills set. When one knows how to do something, the other can do it too. They have the same proficiency, but it gets adapted to their body type, their way of life and their personality and behavior. (ex: Marinette and Damian can both use the katana, but they don’t parry the same way or use the same combinations of attacks.)

-They know when the skill they’re currently using come from their soulmate. It’s like a small acknowledgement at the back of their mind.

-When they meet face to face, they recognize each other immediately.

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-When Marinette really starts to talk, Arabic and Mandarin words are as present in her vocabulary as French words.

-Sabine is delighted that her baby girl’s soulmate has roots in her culture too. Tom starts looking up Arabic words to try to understand what she is saying. With only a baby pronunciation to get by, it is slow going.

-When Marinette is old enough to understand that she could speak Arabic and Mandarin thanks to her soulmate, she decides that it’s not a fair trade. She gets two languages from them and they only get one! She settles on learning Italian with Nonna Gina.

-Marinette is very agile and light on her feet.

-She knows that baking is her skill, but cooking is her soulmate’s. Every time she helps her maman with diner, she feels like someone is backing her up at the back of her mind. A warm presence easily overlooks. Like ‘oh yeah, it’s your skill. Thank you for sharing.’

-Arabic, Mandarin and cooking are the only thing she really gets from her soulmate. Or so she thinks. Assassin’s skills aren’t exactly useful in the day to day life of a French bakery.

-When she becomes Ladybug, she thinks that the acrobatics are thanks to the magic suit. Until she finds herself with a sword in her hands and suddenly, she isn’t so sure anymore.

-Ladybug’s suit includes a black utility belt made of little pouches with self-sealing flaps and full of all sort of things: zip ties, a gas mask (perfectly functional despite its small size – don’t question the magic), an infra-red flashlight, a fingerprint kit, skeleton keys, smoke bombs, flash bombs, a rebreathing apparatus, a miniature voice recorder, a basic first-aid kit. Everything is bright red with black polka dots. Even the zip ties.

-After a careful inventory of her utility belt, Marinette acknowledges that probably half of it is the result of soulmate influence. Tikki had told her that generally her Chosens only use their yo-yo and Marinette would never have thought of zip ties on her own.

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-Damian knows that he has a soulmate because he can speak French and Italian like a native when he only ever learnt Arabic and Mandarin.

-He scoffs at the thought of a soulmate. He’s an Al Ghul and his grandfather’s heir, he has no need for such frivolities. When he’ll met his soulmate, he’ll either recruit them for the League or kill them, depending on what his mood will be that day and their level of uselessness.

-He starts learning English when he’s nine following his mother’s orders. If he’s to be his father’s heir, he needs to be able to communicate with him and the various ‘children’ the man adopted over the years. He thinks his soulmate is helping him by learning English words he hasn’t learnt yet. He doesn’t dwell on it.

-It isn’t until he starts living with his father in Gotham that he starts to see soulmates in a new light. Richard Grayson’s soulmate is Starfire. Timothy Drake’s soulmate is Superboy. He can’t win against either of them. Maybe his soulmate won’t be useless after all.

-Damian has a hard time falling asleep in a house full of highly trained strangers at first. He starts exploring the Manor, before ending in the kitchen. Following instincts that aren’t his own, he makes chocolate-chip cookies. While preparing the dough, he can feel a warm almost-there presence at the back of his mind. He starts doing it every night. Sometimes he tries new recipes. They all turn pretty good. No one ever bother him.

(-They have all already checked the camera feed to see what he was up to. And if baking is relaxing him, they aren’t going to comment. He’s enough of a prickly porcupine, no need to put him even more on the defensive.)

-Damian grows to love his family. And maybe his soulmate, whoever they were.

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-Amelia Brody is Marinette’s class interpreter and tour guide for the duration of their school trip in Gotham. She’s cheerful and excited to show her city to those children. She’s a bit weirded-out by the class dynamics but put it down to French people, until it’s time to tour Wayne Enterprise.

-They’re just finishing touring the open-to-visitors part of WE when she realizes that Marinette is rooted to the spot and facing the ‘employees only’ elevators a few meters away.

“Marinette?” she calls, coming closer. “Is everything alright?”

The girl blinks at her, eyes wide, before looking back at the elevators.

“I-I don’t… I’m sorry… I just… Soulmate?”

Some of the other teenagers scoff.

“Quit making a scene, girl.” Alya rolls her eyes.

Amelia has been getting to know those children for days and she saw how Marinette was treated, how everyone believed Lila’s grand tales and it’s not her place to interfere, even less so when she doesn’t have the full picture, but when she sees Marinette force herself to take a step back, shoulders hunched up, she swipes out her phone to call security and informs them of the situation.

A few minutes later, a dark-haired man cheerfully joins them. Amelia is standing like a barrage between Marinette and the things her classmates are murmuring about the girl while Caline Bustier imitates a pot plant. (Amelia is going to write a long report on this class, just watch her). Still, Amelia is very relieved to see Dick Grayson. (She manages to keep the fangirling down to a mental squeal, thank God)

“So, you’re feeling your soulmate is upstairs?” he asks Marinette.

“I’m sorry,” she replies like a reflex, looking down at her shoes.

“Don’t be! Let’s go see if we can find them!”

Everyone piles up in the elevator. There’re so many people working at WE that the elevators are all very spacious.

It’s not quite a skill that make Marinette push the top floor button, but it’s not that different from muscle memory. Her soulmate has pushed this button so many times, that Marinette doesn’t even hesitate. Dick’s eyes lit up at her actions. After all there’s not a lot of people at the top floor who can be her soulmate. He doesn’t quite like the tone of her classmates even if he can’t understand what they’re saying, but the tour guide’s expression is a sign to behold, so he doesn’t think he’s imagining the insults.

-When the elevator’s doors open again, Marinette makes a beeline for the central office just as the door opens and a young man with dark hair and green eyes exits with a puzzled frown.

Their eyes meet.

“Hi,” Marinette blushes, incapable of looking anywhere else.

“Hello,” Damian replies, voice soft.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with���our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

[pandoraimperatrix]

caught between goodbye and I love you

DickKory | Pining | Eventual smut | Two shots | Post season 3 AU

Chapter 1: My heart is a sad affair

Nobody could say he didn't have been trying. Well, they could but it wouldn't be true.

Even though Bruce had made sure Dick knew how to attract the female attention, nobody told him what to do when it didn’t work as planned. Or how to stanch the wound.

Hell, Bruce made sure he could seduce anyone that could be seduced. "It is a very useful skill to have in your utility belt, Chum" he said then. But it didn't mean Dick didn’t pray for the sweet release of death back then when he was being forced to have seduction lessons under Alfred's or worse, Selina's tutelage.

He should have payed more attention to when they broke up, not that he’d have learnt something useful. They always got back together. He and Kory on other hand…

Well, been taught how to seduce someone for ulterior motives didn’t mean he knew what to do when his goal was not mission oriented. Usually in a mission, after the seduction part was over, even if he had to date the person for more than one night, he had a script and a clear goal. But what if there was no mission? What if he had hopes instead of goals? What to do without no script to follow? No set of rules to guide him?

And he was especially bad when he genuinely cared, never being able to judge if he was trying too hard or too little, usually finding himself overcome with anxiety which resulted into pushing the object of his affections away in the long run. That happened to Dawn, to Babs, hell, despite being a completely different kind of relationship it almost happened with Rachel and Gar too. Thank goodness his children were way more forgiving.

Since Dawn was gone for good and he and Babs had broke up again after deluding themselves for a whole five minutes that their childhood trauma bonded romance could have a last hurrah. He was back to reality. The depressing reality that he, to his absolute despair, cared for Kory, so much, too much, more than he had thought that he ever could for anyone.

Read on AO3

Despite all his overthinking tendencies, all his overplanning, all his precautions, he really didn’t see that coming. Of course, he was aware he was attracted to her from day one, it was nothing alarming back then, at least in the beginning. It hurt when she told him she needed to find out who she was before it got too serious, but he understood, and it was fine. They had time. And time they had, after their reunion, raising a household together, his physical attraction to her remained, and new set of feelings started breeding from their partnership. Something way more aggravating than the constant desire to fuck her brains off every time she entered the room, something deeper.

It took a while, because he was known for being stubborn as fuck, but he knew that a good detective can’t cherry pick evidences, and eventually, he admitted to himself that he wanted to be with her forever. Which not only was a scary thought by itself, considering how much time he spent running from everything serious and true, but it made his insides twist in fear.

Because nothing that good could last. When the love of you life quite literally fell from heaven, heaven can take her back whenever. And the thought of losing her at any moment pushed his anxieties to the roof. Her behaviour haven’t been exactly helping. Despite of not having anything substantial of proof, Dick could feel something was wrong with her, something that she wouldn't talk about no matter how many times he tried to approach her.

Maybe it was his fault, maybe he put himself in a position in which she felt responsible for his wellbeing but not trustworthy to be relied upon after the mess he had made with Slade and with Jason.

Besides, what claim did he have to demand any clarification from her? They weren't together.

But it still hurt. That feeling of uselessness, of having nothing to offer when she gave so much just being by his side.

They lived in the same house and were currently raising super powered teenagers together, everybody outside their tight circle assumed they were a couple, married even, hell, her sister thought they were together. And Kory hardly flinched when they dined out and the waiter called her “Mrs Grayson”, she joked about it, that also hurt, because it wasn’t true. Yes they used to have sex, and yes he was trying to make his grimaces of pain to look like smiles on regular basis to hide how much he wanted her, but they are not together.

But it wasn't by Dick's choice.

It was Kory's.

And the rejection hurt, especially when he didn’t expect it.

From all his many faults, Dick wasn't that kind of guy, it wasn’t as if he didn’t think that her rejection was impossible or insulting due to some high opinion of himself. But it just didn’t make sense. He wasn't deluding himself, although he sometimes had no choice but doubt, wanting to believe and respect her choice, but when it had such dissonance with her actions…

Because, as much as he sometimes wanted to take the easy way out that his internal self-hatred provided – that he was crazy, pathetic and there was no way in heaven or hell such woman would have feelings for him – Dick had also been trained in reading body language and micro expressions.

Everything about how Kory interacted with him felt like an invitation. Unless he had been suffering from a very serious case of psychosis (again), he couldn’t have been imagining the longing in her gaze. Sometimes, even when he thought she wasn’t in the room, he could feel her eyes in him. And it wasn’t just the hot looks he was used to get from people that only thought he was attractive – even though Kory would give him plenty of those too, his skin had been reaping the benefits of all his ice cold showers. But, sometimes, especially when he was giving attention to their children, or just doing something mundane like reading or meditating, he could feel her watching. A gentle smile on her face, eyes like pools of warmth and endearment. Nobody ever looked at him like that, with such unadulterated fondness.

Or the way she found excuses to touch him. He always loved the feeling of falling, doing unnecessary stunts so he could only feel that special kind of rush. With Kory around to catch him whenever he needed, he had been doing that even more often so he could feel her strong arms around him, and she never denied him.

When they fought enemies, or trained, she always found a way to make skin contact, throwing him at their mark to give him an extra boost, instead of shouting for him to clear away from danger, she’d physically pull him away in very unnecessary and unfortunately fast hugs.

She’d lean on his shoulder for no reason at all, even after her powers returned and she told everyone she was not feeling tired all the time anymore. In the mornings, while they washed the dishes together – since Gar banned them both from cooking – she’d bump him with her hip to make him move out of her way, and her hands always lingered when handing him an utensil.

Kory was always pressing away invisible wrinkles on his clothing, and picking things from his hair, so much he could hear muffled giggles from the children every time she did that.

And how could he have been imagining the way her face lit every time he entered the room, or when someone mentioned his name? He couldn't have made anything like that up. Didn't have the self-esteem necessary, or the self-hatred necessary to imagine such torture.

Dick did wonder, though, if living with a woman that looked like what poets sang about, that had the personality correspondent of the most golden of summer’s day, and flirted with him mercilessly, but yet dismissed every attempt he made to turn their relationship into something romantic was just karma. In the past, he had abused his own good looks and knowledge. Hearts had been broken because of his folly, and now the universe was punishing him or something.

Yeah, right, as if the universe cared that much.

But then, when his bitterness and confusion were not settled at all, and he was getting ready for another night of delicious horrible dreams about the woman that did not want him, something weird happened.

Kory Anders, knocking on his door, with a bottle of tequila, just a few days after he finally asked her out and she destroyed his heart and made a mess of his head by saying no. Not only no, she said she didn’t like him like that. That she loved him as a friend, and didn’t want to make things more complicated.

What a bunch of garbage.

For a fraction of second he wondered what she'd do if he closed the door on her face. But he'd never be able to do that, so, wordlessly, he gave away the space she needed to enter his room.

“Can I help you?” he said when she just stood there, looking everywhere but him, as if his room were a great novelty.

Kory bit her lip and he wanted to die. He didn’t want to believe she did those things out of malice, but sometimes one cannot help but being angry over such carelessness.

“Kory?” he asked in that bitchy impatient way of his.

“I lied,” she finally said in a puff of breath.

“What you mean?” His heart was racing, it couldn’t be. Was he asleep? Most of his dreams began with some sort of flashback of their first night. Terrible, terrible dreams that always ended too soon.

She looked away, searching for something, his heart shrank when swayed her body aside, thinking she was about to leave, but Kory placed the bottle and the cups on his dresser and turned back to him, the look she gave him making his throat feel raw. In two powerful strides she was all over him, firm elegant palms cradling his head as she tilted his face to the angle she wanted for their kiss. It was like if time went back.

He pulled her closer carefully, afraid she’d disappear in the smoke of his lust filled memory if he went too hard or too fast, but even when she remained solid, warm under his touch, her teeth pulling his bottom lip mercilessly, then spreading licks and soothing kisses, her perfume making him dizzy, he let her lead. It was easier, which considering his tendency for always taking the most tortuous path, added a layer of pleasure in a luxury hardly ever taken.

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Notes:

I started writing this before season 3, because I wanted to write a fic in which Dick was pining, and also I wanted it to be steamy and smutty. But since the smut part is taking forever to finish and the pining part became bigger than what I planned, you get a two shot.

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Preview:

“Please don’t this. I don’t want to pretend. I’m so tired of lying to you and I’ll have to pretend to the rest of my life. This might be the last night I will ever have to be myself, to be with you. I need this to be real.”

Kory took one of the hands off his hair, bending her arm backwards so she could rub him trough his trousers. Dick let out a moan and she used the opportunity to make a wet path of kisses across his cheekbones, until she reached his ear. She whispered something in her native language and licked his earlobe.

What else could he do? She wanted real. He’d give her real.

Dick pulled her up as his lips claimed hers again, her powerful legs crossed around his hips. He held her up like that for a while, just enjoying the feel of her body pressed flush against his. His hands giving her support by moulding her round butt with his palms.

Dick he walked backwards until his chins hit the bed and he fell sitting with Kory on his lap. She stopped her ministrations to pull her hair from her face and look down at him.

“Hey,” she said, her eyelashes were still wet, but her tears had stopped falling, she looked so… No wonder she belonged to the heavens, no being in the planet could be so perfect.