#it could be almost perfect if it wasn't for her

[vemathie]

warnings: smut (mdni), rough sex, overstimulation, bodily fluids (sweat, cum, tears), g!p, breast play, veryyy messy, fem!reader.

“come on,” caitlyn groans, her head pressed against the pillow, forehead glistening with sweat that's dripping down her entire overheated body. she's trying to sound firm, but it's a total failure the second you obey—rolling your hips forward—and her long, ragged moan rips out.

“cait…” you mumble against her chest, your cheek just as sticky and damp as hers, legs trembling like they're seconds from giving out. but she's got you locked down—her arms wrapped tight. she won't let you pull her cock out, because that would mean she'd lose the unbearable closeness of being buried inside the warmth of your pussy.

god, she gets so embarrassingly soft when her brain is fucked stupid from too many orgasms—so sugary and clingy that her usual self would look at her like she'd grown a second head.

she’s got no patience when your movements falter. her hands clamp down on your ass, squeezing and dragging you back to grind into her, all the way down. and fuck, you're taking her so deep that it's obscene. she could die like this—just die, balls-deep in you—and it'd be a goddamn perfect way to go.

“i said, keep going,” she snarls, punctuating her command with a sharp spank. the sound ricochets through the room, followed by a broken, high-pitched whimper you can’t swallow down. caitlyn's lips twitch into a shaky grin.

her eyes trail down as you lift your chest off hers, planting your hands firmly just under her breasts. her gaze flicks from your flushed face to the way your chest heaves, nipples tight and glistening. she can't stop staring. she won't stop staring.

that sweet little frown you always make when you're overwhelmed drives her crazy. she loves pushing you to your limit. watching you throw your head back, biting your lip like it'll somehow hold the noises—but it doesn’t. the drawn-out moan you let out when you start bouncing on her cock again drives her fucking insane.

her hips buck up like a reflex, and she nearly spills right there, teeth sinking into her bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. she can’t keep up—wasn’t ready for you to get your second wind, for you to start fucking her like that.

“ha-ah,” she pants, her hand flies up, grabbing your tit. fingers kneading and rolling, desperate to find any sort of the lost grounding that left her hazy.

she’s trying to hold back, but you’re relentless. and when you moan her name—cait!—like it’s the only thing on your mind. her attention snaps right back to you. your mouth is open, gasping and begging, but your body isn’t slowing down. in fact, your pussy is clenching around her, pulling her in deeper, wetter, hotter.

“wasn't so hard, was it?” she rasps, breathless and teasing. not even sure you can hear her with the way your hips slam down on hers. the slap of your ass against her thighs, the sticky mix of both your cum smeared everywhere—it’s filthy. a disgusting, beautiful, filthy mess. and it makes her cock ache, her balls tightening almost painfully. “doing so good.”

she can already tell you're not lasting longer than this, and she has to enjoy the moments where she has you here, lucid.

“i—i can't—” caitlyn sees it—the moment your body seizes, your moans climbing into a scream as you cum again, your pussy clamping down hard and gushing around her. it’s like your body is trying to milk her dry.

“please, cait… please, cum,” you beg into her chest, mouth latching onto her breast, sucking with a hunger that feels almost desperate. “can't—can't take it anymore.”

your pussy clenches her cock, and she's not patient enough to play around anymore. her feet plants against the mattress as her hips surge up, thrusting into you—with a ferocity that makes the bed creak and groan like it’s about to snap in half. the sharp slap of skin against skin fills the room, drowning out your whimpers, your begging—please, cait, I can’t— but she’s not listening.

she’s drunk on the feeling of your walls fluttering and squeezing her cock. every thrust punches the air out of your lungs, your body limp against hers, but she doesn’t care. her nails dig into your sweat-slick skin as she uses your body like it’s hers. because it is.

“that's it,” she growls, her head thrown back against the pillow. “take it. just—fuck, take it.” her cock hitting so deep you swear you can feel it in your throat. she doesn’t give you a second to breathe, doesn’t ease up even as you sob into her neck, tears and spit smearing against her skin.

her whole body tenses, muscles locking as she slams you down, grinding deep as her cock throbs, spilling into you in hot, thick waves. it’s too much, spilling out around her before she even finishes.

her thrusts turn slow, shallow and lazy, as she rides out her orgasm, panting against your ear, her hands trembling against your hips. “good girl,” she whispers, her voice wrecked and low, pressing a kiss to your temple. and you're begging in your mind that she doesn't want to have another round.

[k0nanharv3y]

Am I giving Tim too much power and making him almost untouchable with many plot holes, and in fact, nothing you read will make sense? Yes, I am doing that, is there a problem?

Tim Drake Saved Gotham from Batman. Yeah, but lets say that he didn't do it becoming Robin

He Saved Gotham by becoming the focus of attention and method of anger release for Batman

///

And then there was a new rogue in Gotham. Batman didn't know who they were, what did they wanted, and why they seemed to be targeting only him. Inside and outside the mask, as Bruce Wayne and as the Dark Knight

He didn't have time for this, when he had them, when he found out who they were, he would destroy them, if necessary he would burn the world down, because his world burned with his son in that warehouse. Whoever the guy behind the attacks was, he would know the full wrath of the Dark Knight

But Tim was already hiding well from Batman right under his nose, Tim grew up following, watching and absorbing everything from the adults around him. But most of all he learned not to make mistakes. Tim would use the mistakes of the Joker, of Riddle, of each and every one of Gotham's rogues and learn not to leave clues, not to get caught, to hide right next to Batman, because it's a popular lie, Batman doesn't have eyes in the back of his head. The extra eyes he had died in Ethiopia

Tim had resources, time and only 12 years old, he was still moldable, he could fill any mold to perfection, so he forced himself to fit the mold of the rogue that Gotham would love. Because Tim wouldn't go for the city, he loved Gotham too much to destroy it trying to save a man who seemed to be digging his own grave, one in which he was dragging the city with him. Tim strategically targeted Bruce Wayne and Batman so that the man would get a slap in the face for his behavior. And if a building exploded, Tim would make sure that the people who worked or lived there would have good insurance and new jobs and compensation from Wayne Enterprises.

And Batman turned against the rogue who forced him to bury his own pain with his son and went to fight this guy who seemed to be virtually and physically everywhere. Batman knew the guy knew his identity, because the attacks were personal, lethal in any case, he was playing with him, mocking him. Until he seemed to stop

One day a letter on his door telling Batman how sorry he was and that "I had done what had to be done" and "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Wayne, but you were destroying the city with you" was all he got before the depressing silence of a quiet city -No, not a city, of Quiet Gotham-

The world kept turning and both lives continued

One next to the other

///

Steph became Robin long before because Batman was trying to open his heart to another child, Cassandra arrived just as she was supposed to, Steph never died because Batman was there and Dick made peace with the brother he could never love and loved his sisters and when Jason came back to life there was no vengeance in his blood because Batman never replaced him 10 minutes after Jason died. Yes, he was angry at the Joker and Batman's inability to kill him, but someone else did and Jason will embrace whoever did it. And when Damian got home everything was fine and he didn't steal the mantle from anyone because Steph was eager to give it to someone else and get Batman off her ass.

And Tim's life was lonely. His parents never stopped being absent, and the plane crash still happened because that wasn't because he was Robin, but because he was simply a living being. (Yes, I'm changing things up here) Janet was left in a coma and Jack died and in the end he was just a kid in a mansion that was too big, but so afraid of depending on someone (the last time he saw someone depending on someone else he had to blow up several buildings and cyberbully them to calm them down) who took the reins of Drake Industries and invented an uncle just to not be put in the system and still be off the bats' radar

And then Batman died

///

Hey you!, Yeah you!, Imagine that in the middle of the Bats' life, every time someone (a rogue) attacked Gotham, Tim would appear out of nowhere and digitally betray them to the Bats, and if Oracle isn't mentioned here, it's because you and I know that she would dismantle Tim from day one, so shut up, she's busy with her Birds of Prey or something, I DON'T KNOW, I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR 26 HOURS

Part 2 of this bullshit

Part 3 cuz somehow I manage to make another one of these

[jjjjeonww]

yoon jeonghan - "married; but they hate eachother?" (pt 1)

this is part 1! ~~an arranged marriage with actor yoon jeonghan wouldn't be that bad right? would it seem bad if he was obsessed with you? word count - 543 summary: kae asks!

you sat rigidly beside Jeonghan, his hand clammy and sweaty as it gripped yours. you had to resist the urge to yank her hand away, her skin crawling at his touch. the forced smile plastered on your face felt more like a grimace as she stared ahead, avoiding jeonghan's intense gaze.

when the interviewer mentioned their upcoming wedding, your stomach churned. Private? Hardly. their agencies had turned their forced marriage into a spectacle, a cash cow to milk for all it was worth. they cared nothing for jeonghan's and yours mutual disdain, your twisted history of clashing egos and resentment.

jeonghan, however, beamed at the interviewer with a manic grin, squeezing your hand painfully. "oh, it won't be private at all," he gushed, his voice taking on a unsettling, almost obsessive tone. "i want the whole world to see us, to witness the love and devotion we share."

your heart dropped as jeonghan spoke, his words sending a chill down your spine. love and devotion? he was delusional if he thought she could ever feel that way about him. no, jeonghan's obsession had long since crossed the line into something darker, more sinister. but you could never know. to jeonghan, it was a secret he'd take to his grave.

you forced yourself to laugh along with him, playing the part of the blushing bride-to-be. but inside, you were screaming. trapped. suffocated by the lies and expectations weighing down on you. his thumb stroked over your knuckles, a possessive gesture that made you want to recoil.

all of his actions and words left you wondering; is he playing his part of the husband-to-be? or is there something more in what he's doing? .....

as jeonghan continued to gush about your impending nuptials, you couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that his enthusiasm was more than just an act. his eyes, when they flicked to yours, held a feverish intensity that made your blood run cold. was he truly playing his part, or had his obsession blurred the lines between fiction and reality?

his hand on hers felt hotter now, almost burning your skin. his fingers traced intricate patterns on your palm, his touch lingering just a moment too long to be purely for show. you fought the urge to pull away, to break the contact that felt so wrong, so violating.

jeonghan leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke to the interviewer. "i want to give y/n the wedding of her dreams," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "a celebration of our love, for all the world to see."

your breath hitched in your throat. his words sounded rehearsed, meant for the audience watching them, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity that frightened you. with each passing moment, with every touch and word, you couldn't help but wonder - was jeonghan truly acting? he probably was right? you couldn't think that he was obsessed. he's simply doing what his manager told him too. to act. 1. act like the perfect man 2. act like the perfect future husband 3. act like he's completely and utterly obsessed with you. wait, that wasn't on the list. but is it 'act like' or 'show that' he's completely and utterly obsessed with you?

[vreenak]

I started watching Silo and I think it's a great show with an interesting premise, but Rebecca Ferguson's character is so insufferable I want to bite my keyboard. I just want Rashida back!

[plushie-lovey]

FINALLY!! At long last, I've gotten my hands on a Pumpkin Kitty, after a whole year of wanting and waiting.

Her name is Latte! (Short for Miss Pumpkin Spice Latte) You can also call her Miss Spice!

[vv-ispy]

Ships that could have worked out if it wasn't for one (1) thing

[fcrafcrtnight]

SHE GASPED, PLACING A HAND OVER HER HEART IN A VERY DRAMATIC MANNER. what she loved the most - or.. one of the things, anyways, it was the act that they could joke around like this. he was and always would be, now, the reason behind all of her smiles. "I DID LEAVE THEM LAYING AROUND AND.. YOU CAME AND STOLEN THEM ALL? oh my. i should be glad you haven't found my secret supply of chocolate bars, that happens to be in the.. third drawer on the left in my office? whatever would i do if someone were to break in and take them all?" what was hers was his now and.. yes, that went behind all of this. "no one? you mean that?" nodding a little, as she composed herself. "WELL. IF YOU THINK THAT'S THE BEST I CAN DO, JUST WAIT AND SEE, HUSBAND. i'm going to spoil the ever loving shit out of you. plane? check. date nights under the stars every other day? check. and wait for the other surprises." because she wasn't done. nowhere near it and she wanted to give him.. the world. "is that so? well, mr. mayor, no need to flirt, though. you already won me over, remember? PRETTY MUCH MADE A MIRACLE HAPPEN, TOO." meaning that she secretly loved that he did? yes. of course she did. she grinned, just leaning against him, as he played with her hair. this was.. everything. "oh, i do. know a few secret ones, too. one that may lead me right to my husband's office, whenever i feel tempted to stop by and pay him a visit..?" actually, actually giving a good laugh at that. "good. JUST HOW I LIKE IT. PERFECT, SHINY ENOUGH TO ALMOST ENOUGH TO BLIND SOMEONE AND.. YOURS. ours, so.. everyone knows we are the real deal." @springbandit

Jake's face lit up as she accused him, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged. But, in my defense, you did leave them lying around. Before I came here, I'd had one bar of chocolate in the last two years. And I was stupid enough to share it. I'm sorry, but your pretzels didn't stand a chance." Despite his playful self-righteous attitude, Jake had every intention of replacing what he'd taken. Despite everything, fairness was something he valued more than most other things. If he took, he had to give. And that's what drove him crazy. He'd taken things he could never return. "You already take care of me! I mean, look at all these great things you've put out just for me. Nobody's ever done anything like this for me before. Not even close." Jake's adult life was one of trouble and violence. Any entanglements along the way had been little more than passing exchanges. He'd never known a tender, domesticated love. "Well, lucky for you, your mayor is always available. A true public servant. Especially, when the public are this good looking." He smiled, leaning in and resting his hand on her shoulder and idly twirling her hair while he admired her. "Town hall works for me. It's already pretty secure, and you know all the emergency exits, don't you? I'm sure we can work with that." He chuckled, enamoured by her even as she got worked up about party planning. He found it all just mesmerizing. "Don't worry. It'll be shiny. Might just blind someone if the sun hits it the right way." He teased, already drumming up ideas in his head of something he could get. Something beautiful, but purposeful. Like her.

@fcrafcrtnight

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[helielune]

love deluxe 💘

[lisbonsteresa]

going through something horrendous

[vilisisms]

she missed the warmth as space was put between them, even the small amount that there was there allowed the cold air to raise goosebumps on her skin. that, or maybe it was the look in his eye as she waited to hear what this condition of his was. the anticipation was almost too much to handle. eve tried to look away, focus on the wings retracting or even his hands as they worked each button but the pull of his gaze was too much and her dark brown hues found his captivating gaze after every attempt. she would feel those goosebumps begin to spread, no longer just on her arms but making their way down her spine. the young wolf watched him intently, trying to guess what his next move was going to be and surprise took over her features at his extended hand. no way was he wanting her to walk back into that party with her? she thought to herself, and then there it was, the condition. a dance. with him. a flair of excitement ignited within her at this, the inability to say now. this was all so new, so different, untraveled territory. that made it all so much more tempting for her. she'd always done everything she could to be the perfect daughter, but hope was back now and her father wasn't the father she knew. now was the time to test the waters, to go unnoticed as she knew she would with hope around. eve wet her lips, and with a slow nod she accepted this condition of his; took the hand he extended. "well, if i can't say no." she teased, knowing full and well that she'd be saying yes regardless. "i'd love to."

A chuckle rippled between them at her response, amusement tugging across his features as he gave a simple shake of his head. "A challenge it is then," Kaidan assures, digits resting at her waist as her own slid down his arms, leaving a trail of fire behind her touch. He remained unmoving and silent for a moment as she questioned his condition, inner debate on actually insisting on it before he pulls away from him, a smirk tugging at his lips as his wings tuck back into his back and he shrugs his button down back on over his shoulders and quickly buttoned it shut. His gaze held hers the entire time even as he began to turn back towards the party and extended a hand to her. "I request a dance and you are not allowed to say no," he finally states. "That is my condition."

[minakoaiinos]

Anyway good morning.

[cerealbishh]

"Just another nobody pretending to be a somebody." "You're the best somebody I've ever met."

🎥: @bikinibottomdayz

[oveliagirlhaditright]

*takes a deep breath* Casey Gilly's writing in the Boomverse bothers me so much.

And there's a lot I could get into with that. But mainly it's her obvious obsession with S*pike via the comics she's written so far. And how I feel she Draco in Leather Pants him a lot?

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage

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

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

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

The ring was now firmly on his finger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[part 2 ->]

[bats-and-the-birds]

The Batkids on being mistaken as Bruce's biological children.

Look, the Batkids have all been forced into various social gatherings, and enough of them share vague features with Bruce that some of the older members among Gotham's old money, or the younger ones that are out of the loop, sometimes mix up the facts.

Dick gets it from the very beginning. Old women pinch his cheeks, still tan from a life outside of Gotham's gloom, and tell him, Such a sweet little boy, and just like your father at your age. His hair used to stick up just like yours. Dick didn't like it at all. He bit the first person that told him he had Bruce's eyes, and stomped on the foot of an old politician that told him, With your father's height, I thought you'd be taller by now.

He laughs it off as an adult, but sometimes, it still eats at him. People still tell him that they thought he'd eventually be as tall as Bruce, or that he should be thankful for his inherited jaw line. It's not the comparison to Bruce that bothers him anymore, or even being mistaken as his son, but rather, the fact that he sometimes struggles to remember exactly where his features actually came from; parental faces turning fuzzy in his distant memory.

Jason thinks it's funny, the first time it happens. Mostly because it's his nose of all things. Your nose is bent, grumbled the old man sitting across from him at the gala, Just like your father's. Tough luck on the genetics. The man didn't realize the bent noses were because they'd both been broken in the past. Jason spent days after studying Bruce's face, trying to figure out if their noses really bent in the same way, and eventually came to the conclusion that, yeah, they really did. From that point on, each time either of them broke their nose, Jason would distantly think, Ah, damn, there goes the family resemblance.

As an adult, Jason takes care to make sure people don't often seen his face. The hood does a pretty good job of that. Besides, he doesn't move in circles where the mistake could be made anymore. Still, sometimes he looks in the mirror at the bump in his nose and thinks, Family resemblance. Yeah, right.

It happens less with Tim. Anyone that made the mistake with Jason and Dick also remembered Jack and Janet Drake. It's not until he's almost an adult that a new hire at Wayne Industries, some kid from out of town, sees him and Bruce in the office together and remarks, Oh, you two furrow your eyebrows in the same way when you think. My mom says that my dad and I do that too. We inherited it from my grandpa. Tim feels unsettled all day and makes a conscious effort to not to furrow his eyebrows anymore.

There's no mistake to make with Damian. At least, not the same one that can be made with the others. He's the blood son, and he's a perfect mix between Bruce and Talia. Of course, there's the well-meaning, if confused, adults that assume he's adopted like the others. He corrects them, swiftly, and sometimes aggressively.

There is one incident. It happens while Bruce is gone, after he's been staying with Grayson for a few months. He knew, of course, that people thought that Grayson looked like Bruce. He could even see the similarities. Superficially, of course. However, he never considered that Grayson looking like his father also meant that Grayson looked like him. Not until an old woman leaned over to him at a gala and said, You look just like your father when Mister Wayne first brought him out to these things. The hair, that disgruntled little frown. He hated these parties too. Couldn't ever sit still. Gosh, I really can't believe it's been long enough that he has a child of his own. It took Damian a while to realize what happened, and even then, he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he wasn't actually Grayson's son, or that he and Grayson weren't actually that far apart in age. He felt strangely guilty the rest of the night, and he never dared to tell Grayson about it.

It happened to Steph exactly once. Really, she doesn't look like Bruce at all. It was a man with exceptionally thick glasses, who actually told her that she reminded him of Martha Wayne. She's pretty sure he was just trying to be nice. She tries to forget about it. She never tells Bruce.

You have his eyes, is what Duke gets. Which confuses him, because, uh, no, he doesn't. Not even close like Dick's. He says as much to the woman that said it to him, and she squints her eyes at him and responds, No, you definitely do. Not in the shape or the color, but you look at things the same way he does. Duke thinks about that sometimes, and he swings back and forth between being annoyed and weirdly proud that he apparently looked at the world like Batman did.

People tell Cass that she has his smile. She beams with pride at that. After all, she learned it from him. She studied, closely, the way his mouth ticked up at the corners, both while he stretched the dazzling, fake smile across his face for the public, and the genuine, gentle smiles that he gave her while he helped tie her hair back or slip on her mask, and now she could replicate them both perfectly. She didn't like the fake one, but she knew it was necessary.