#yeah I made a trashy meme

[i-live-in-dreams]

Orpheus be like:

[paxtito]

and they were roommates

pairings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 2717

warnings: smut 18+, masturbating, oral (r receiving), p in v, swearing

summary: tara is out running errands, she’d be gone for hours- or so you thought

a/n: i’m working on multiple request atm— wenclair x reader one and the radiohead song (i’m just listening and reading the song to get an idea atm) also thank you to the anon for requesting this and their kind words!

The dorm is quiet, unusually so, and it’s kind of nice. Tara had mentioned heading out for the day—something about running errands and meeting up with Sam—and while you’re used to the hum of her presence, the silence isn’t unwelcome.

You glance around the shared space. It’s small but cozy, a mix of her personality and yours crammed into every corner. Her side of the room is meticulously organized—her books stacked neatly, her bed made with precision. In contrast, your side looks… well, lived-in. A pile of clothes rests precariously on your desk chair, and your bed is a haphazard mess of blankets and pillows.

You plop onto your bed, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Without Tara around, you’re left to your own devices—literally. You snort at a meme, sending it to her out of habit.

“That’s stupid,” she’d probably reply, but there’d be a hint of fondness in it.

After a while, you glance at the clock. Noon. The day stretches ahead, and you find yourself feeling restless. You could clean up your side of the room, but… nah. Instead, you wander over to Tara’s desk.

Her books catch your eye first—old classics mixed with crime thrillers and a few surprisingly heartfelt poetry collections. You pick one up, flipping through the pages idly. A note scribbled in the margin catches your attention, her handwriting sharp and deliberate: “This makes no sense. Why didn’t he just leave?”

You chuckle softly. Even in her annotations, Tara’s blunt honesty shines through.

Your gaze drifts to her bulletin board. It’s a mix of pinned photos, ticket stubs, and little reminders. One of the pictures is of the two of you, taken on move-in day. You’re grinning like an idiot, throwing up a peace sign, while she’s glaring at the camera, her arms crossed—but there’s a subtle upturn to her lips that gives her away.

You flop onto your bed, the old springs creaking under your weight. The small TV in the corner flickers to life as you jab at the remote, the sound of canned laughter filling the room. It's some trashy reality show, but it's mindless and distracting—just what you need right now.

As you settle in, your gaze drifts around the room. Tara's side is always so pristine, everything in its place. It's annoying how tidy she is. You, on the other hand... well, your side looks like a bomb went off in a thrift store.

You reach for the bag of chips on your nightstand, tearing it open with a loud rip. The salty scent mingles with the faint smell of Tara's lavender body spray, creating a strange but not unpleasant odor.

You munch away, eyes glued to the screen, as snippets of conversation from the show drift through your thoughts.

"I think I'm going to kill her," one of the contestants is saying, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

You snort. Yeah, right. They're all too busy primping and preening to actually do anything. Unlike the Ghostface killers, they've got no balls.

You check the time again, just to be sure. Tara won't be back for at least a couple of hours. With the coast clear, a mischievous grin spreads across your face. Time to take advantage of the privacy.

You reach over to your bedside table, fishing around in the drawer until your fingers close around the cool, smooth bottle of lotion. You pop the cap open with practiced ease, squirting a generous amount into your palm. The slick, slightly cold sensation sends a shiver down your spine as you rub your hands together, warming the lotion.

With your other hand, you unlock your phone and pull up your favorite porn site. Your fingers fly over the screen as you type in your search, already feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal. A few taps later, and a video starts playing, the sounds of moaning and grunting filling the now-silent room.

You settle back against your pillow, one hand already slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants. Your cock is already half-hard, twitching in anticipation. You wrap your fingers around it, giving it a slow stroke as you watch the scene unfold on your screen.

You stroke your cock slowly, teasingly, savoring the building pleasure. Your other hand roams over your chest, pinching and tweaking a nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. The dual sensations send sparks of electricity shooting through your body, making your hips buck up into your touch.

On screen, the actress lets out a particularly loud moan, and you match it with a groan of your own. Fuck, that's hot.

Just as you're getting into a rhythm, the door to your dorm swings open without warning. You freeze, your hand still wrapped around your throbbing cock, as Tara steps inside.

"Shit!" she exclaims, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her. You're sprawled on your bed, pants pulled down, phone in hand, and a sticky puddle of lube on your stomach.

Mortification floods through you, and you frantically try to cover yourself, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over your lap. Your face burns with embarrassment, and you can't meet Tara's gaze.

"I-I thought you said you'd be gone for hours!" you stammer, trying to come up with some excuse. But there's no hiding what you were doing.

Tara stands in the doorway, frozen in shock. Her eyes dart between your flushed face and the pillow. After a moment, she seems to shake herself out of her stupor.

Tara's eyes flick down to the pillow, then back up to your face. Her expression is unreadable, but there's a glint in her eye that makes your stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.

She steps further into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The sound seems to echo in the tense silence.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she says, her voice low and teasing. She saunters over to your bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she sits on the edge.

Your breath hitches as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the pillow in your lap. Slowly, she pulls it away, revealing your straining erection. You whimper at the sudden exposure, the cool air hitting your overheated skin.

Tara's gaze rakes over your cock, and you feel yourself grow even harder under her scrutiny. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and your hips twitch involuntarily.

"Looks like you were in the middle of something," she purrs, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. Her touch is electric, sending shivers racing up your spine.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be back so soon," you manage to say, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

Tara leans in closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "Don't apologize," she whispers, her lips brushing against your skin. "I think I can help with that."

And then, before you can process what's happening, she's sliding down your body, her hands pushing your legs apart. You gasp as her mouth hovers over your cock, her hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, Tara," you groan, your fingers tangling in her hair as she takes you into her mouth. The wet heat of her tongue is almost too much to bear, and you buck your hips, desperate for more.

Tara hums around you, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body. She bobs her head, taking you deeper each time, her hand wrapping around the base of your cock.

Your head falls back against the pillows as Tara works her magic. Her mouth is a wonder, hot and wet and so damn perfect. You can feel every ridge and valley of her tongue as it glides along your shaft, tracing the veins and swirling around the head.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," you groan, your hips rocking up to meet her movements. Your fingers tighten in her hair, gently guiding her pace.

Tara hums in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. She takes you deeper, her nose brushing against your pubic bone as she swallows around you.

The sight of her, head bobbing in your lap, lips stretched obscenely around your cock, is almost too much to handle. You feel yourself getting close, your balls tightening and your stomach muscles clenching.

"Tara, I'm gonna..." you warn, your voice strained and breathless.

But she doesn't pull away. Instead, she doubles down, her head moving faster, her hand pumping in tandem. She looks up at you through her lashes, her eyes dark with lust and something else, something intense and hungry.

It's too much. With a guttural groan, you explode in her mouth, your cock pulsing as you spill your seed down her throat. She swallows it all, not spilling a single drop, and continues to suck and lick until you're spent.

Finally, she releases you with a lewd pop, sitting back on her heels and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks immensely pleased with herself, a satisfied smirk on her kiss-swollen lips.

You collapse back onto the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Your whole body feels like jelly, boneless and sated.

"Holy shit," you breathe, running a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. "That was... wow."

Tara giggles, the sound low and sultry. She crawls up your body, straddling your hips and leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You roll over, pinning Tara beneath you on the bed. She looks up at you, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. You capture her lips in another heated kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth to taste yourself on her tongue.

Your hands roam her body, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her stomach. She arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sit up and pull her shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly aside. Your eyes drink in the sight of her, clad only in a lacy bra. You lean down, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the swell of her cleavage.

Tara's fingers thread through your hair, tugging gently as she holds you to her. "More," she breathes, her voice husky with need.

You oblige, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, freeing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You take a moment to admire them, full and perfect, before lowering your head to take one pebbled nipple into your mouth.

Tara gasps, her back arching off the bed. You lavish attention on her breast, sucking and nibbling until she's writhing beneath you. Your hand slides down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans.

"These need to go," you murmur against her skin, hooking your fingers in the denim and pulling it down her legs. She lifts her hips to help, kicking the jeans off and leaving her in just a pair of matching lace panties.

You sit back on your heels, taking in the sight of her laid out before you, flushed and wanting. Your cock twitches, already hardening again. You reach down to push your own pants fully off, kicking them away.

Tara's eyes widen as she takes in your naked form, her gaze zeroing in on your erection. "Fuck, you're so hot," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around you.

You grind your cock against her, feeling the heat of her through the thin lace. Tara gasps, her hips lifting to meet yours, seeking more friction. The rough drag of your hard length against her clothed clit sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you both.

"Please," she whimpers, her fingers digging into your shoulders. "I need you inside me."

You don't make her wait any longer. Hooking your fingers in her panties, you yank them down her legs, tossing them aside carelessly. Tara spreads her legs wider, inviting you in.

You position yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock nudging against her slick folds. Tara's breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed as you press forward.

You sink into her inch by delicious inch, groaning at the tight, wet heat enveloping you. Tara is so fucking perfect, her walls gripping you like a vice. You bottom out, your hips flush against hers, buried to the hilt inside her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you pant, fighting the urge to just start pounding into her. Instead, you hold still, letting her adjust to the stretch.

Tara rolls her hips, urging you on. "Move," she demands, her nails raking down your back.

You don't need to be told twice. You start to thrust, setting a steady rhythm that has you both gasping and moaning. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bed.

Tara wraps her legs around your waist, using the leverage to meet your thrusts. Her tits bounce with every snap of your hips, and you lean down to capture a nipple in your mouth, sucking hard.

"Yes, just like that," Tara hisses, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Don't stop."

You have no intention of stopping. You fuck her hard and fast, chasing your pleasure and hers. The coil of heat in your belly winds tighter and tighter, signaling your impending release.

You can feel your orgasm building, your balls tightening and your thrusts becoming erratic. But you force yourself to slow down, to focus on Tara's pleasure instead of your own.

Tara's nails dig into your shoulders, her teeth sinking into your neck as she holds on for dear life. Her walls flutter around you, tightening and releasing in a rhythm that tells you she's close.

You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. Tara keens, her body tensing beneath you.

You reach between your bodies, finding her clit with your fingers. Tara bucks against your hand, her hips moving in frantic circles as you rub tight circles over the sensitive nub. You can feel her getting closer, her inner walls starting to flutter around your cock.

"Come on, baby," you urge, your voice low and rough. "Come for me."

Tara's body goes rigid, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm crashes over her. She cries out, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice as she comes undone.

The feeling of her coming around your cock is too much. With a guttural groan, you pull out, your hand flying over your shaft as you stroke yourself to completion. Your cum spurts out, painting Tara's stomach in thick, white ropes.

You collapse beside her, both of you panting and sweaty. Tara turns her head to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

"That was intense," she murmurs, reaching out to brush a sweat-dampened lock of hair from your forehead.

You grab some tissues from the box on your nightstand, quickly wiping the cum from Tara's stomach. She sighs contentedly as you clean her, her body still tingling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

As you toss the used tissues aside, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her naked form. Tara is a vision, her skin flushed and glowing, her hair splayed out on the pillow like a halo. She looks thoroughly debauched, and the sight sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

But then reality starts to set in. You just had sex with your roommate. Your best friend. What does this mean for your relationship? Will things be awkward now?

Tara seems to sense your thoughts. She sits up, pulling the sheet around her naked body. "Hey," she says softly, reaching out to cup your cheek. "We okay?"

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Tara smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Good," she murmurs against your mouth. "Because I want to do that again. Soon."

With that, she hops off the bed, completely unselfconscious in her nudity. She pads over to her closet, rummaging around for something to wear.

You watch her, your mind still reeling. What have you gotten yourself into?

—

request: where reader and Tara are roommates and reader thinks Tara is out so reader starts to masturbate but Tara comes home early and walks in on reader so she gives a helping hand (a blow job) then they do it yk?

[silkentine]

Franky in 2C for the draw meme ;P

Here he is!!! So cuuuuuute!!!

I also drew a Fem!Franky 🔩⚡️ just for you because I’m insane about girl piece, I know you understand! 👯‍♀️💃👰‍♀️👩‍���️‍💋‍👩🧍‍♀️

I definitely wanted her to have the same vibes as original Franky but I leaned into a more 50s Americana Diner color palette for her as opposed to Franky’s more biker mechanic colors so more pinks, creams, and teals. I also made her nose a bit more snatched and tidied up her chin to avoid that beard-ish look. And accessories!!!! I wanted her makeup to give a gyaru/sukeban kind of feel. A little trashy, a little delinquent, a little yankee. Also yeah, just some serious honkers. a real set of badonkers. packing some dobonhonkeros. you get the jist, of course.

[trumpetnista]

CMW2/Trumpetnista: Foil

Summary from FFN: FERAL-VERSE VERSION OF THE SERIES FINALE: After months of misery, Jeremiah FINALLY throws down the gauntlet and everyone is more than ready to end his reign of terror. Selina has been re-evaluating her life decisions and has decided to change, leading to the peace and joy she deserves;Rated for language, GOTHAM typical action/gore, and BatCat lovemaking;1st in my 2025 SSS Project

Words from the Hooded GOTHAMITE: Good Aftenoon and Happy New Year, everyone! It has been a very long time since I've done anything fandom related consistently and there are legitimate reasons why. The full story is under my personal tag but here's the synopsis: In late 2020-early 2021, I accepted the religion that I grew up with (Jehovah's Witnesses) was a Cult so I've been in the process of deprogramming and discovering myself. In mid-September 2022, I had a psychotic break that led to an 8-10 day hospitalization and more importantly, my Bipolar 1 diagnosis.

In August 2023, I lost my father due to congestive heart failure coupled with nursing home neglect and my mother is currently dealing with being a widow along with her own growing stack of medical/mental issues that she refuses to go to a nursing home for. 

My fibromyalgia has changed in an awful way, which means I'll likely have to go in for more surgeries to deal with it, along with handling the ongoing healing of my dominant left wrist and hand from surgery to deal with Kienbock's Disease. I've recently been diagnosed with arthritis in my ribcage but thankfully, my change in diet and lifestyle is compatible with keeping it in check, as well as more surgeries.

With all of that being said, I want and need to do something that brings me joy and that I have full control over. Writing has always been a part of my life, one of my greatest joys, and I want to get back to it. 

Thank you so much for your patience.

The show may be over but my love for it is far from over. GOTHAM has so many characters, so many ideas that deserve more exploration and my Emo kids turned Emo adults may have ended on a hopeful note but the trashy shipper part of me wants better for them.  

I still plan on writing them getting turnt together and I’ve finally settled on an idea for the sequel to Positive but this idea won’t leave me alone. We’ll be returning to the Feral-verse here. It’s one of my favorite AUs. 

I absolutely fucking despise Harley and Joker’s “relationship”. I always have and I always will but none of the versions were more offensive to me than Jeremiah and Ecco’s. It just...y’all know the meme: “DISGUSTENG”? Yeah. I was more than happy to see her die (Spoilers. Apologies.) but it also made me wonder what would’ve happened if someone actually called out the “relationship” for the toxic bullshit it was. Who better than Selina Kyle? Of course, BatCat will be serving as an imperfectly perfect foil to their nonsense (hence the title...I love making connections like that. It’s one of writing’s joys) and honestly, this fic is just an excuse to bash the life ruining circus freak and write BatCat action plot with porn with healthy communication for flavor.

Also, this fic is gonna go deep into Selina’s head. With everything that’s happened to her and the city, she’s come to some conclusions, conclusions that could (and will) change her life for the better, not just between her and Bruce but in general. I want my Grumpy Cat to have joy and as much peace as the world will allow. She deserves the whole world. She really does. 

Disclaimer: “Honestly, it’s not mine!”

 "Hi, Selina Kyle!"

"...hello...you okay in there?"

"Uh-huh. Everyone here has treated me real nice. I thought they'd be mean but nope."

"Good."

"Can you chat for a while? I'm sooo bored and there are hardly any girls around..."

"Sure, just as long as you keep in mind that if you try to pull a Move on me, you'll have more holes in you than swiss cheese before you can blink."

"Fair enough...so, are you gonna cook me before you eat me or am I gonna be sushi? I love sushi...man, I miss sushi so much. I'd cut someone's pinky toe off for some sashimi right now..."

"Why the hell would I eat you?"

"Because you're a Cutie Cannibal, Curls. The scared little bunnies told me and Daddy all about you before he made them go bye-bye. You ripped Wet Willie's throat out and made them bring it home to us. Lil' Bitch Baby Penguin, Crazy Widow Barbie, Raggedy Andrew, The Song of Ice and Fire Blasters, even Jimmy the Gent watching us over yonder with his loyal posse of fellow do-gooders...they're the Big Giant Heads of this city yet they're all scared shitless of little ol' you. You don't see it?"

"I see it every day but I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Nope."

"How come?"

"None of them matter to me. Okay, Gordon, Bullock, and Barbara do because they're Squad but the rest of them can fuck right off. We'd be better off if they died or left town and never came back."

"Weren't you and The Fire Blaster besties back in the way day?"

"Yeah...The Plant Witch, too but they went their ways and I went mine. It is what it is. Good times or not, when they pull a Move on me and mine again? I'll stomp them like roaches."

"Harsh."

"Yeah, but better them than me and mine."

"...I know a secret about you, Selina Kyle. Wanna hear it?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Bruce Wayne matters more to you than anybody else in the whole wide world. Oh, you put on a good show of being a cold hard bitch but anyone smart can see right through it. You lurve him. I mean, c'mon. You moved out of Haven to live in sin with him in his lovely little townhouse and big beautiful Manor. You made peace with his manservant and now you're like a daughter to him. You and Brucie run around every day with the coppers, still trying to save the sinking ship and all the sad little rats trapped inside of it. He tells you all his secrets and you tell him most of yours. You're giving him your milk and cookies whenever he wants 'em and you even took a naughty little bullet for him. Mr. J thought that when he shot you down that it'd change everything between him and Brucie for the best. His crazy sexy cool buddy Ra's said that it would before he went up in smoke with the Bridges. Mr. J thought that they'd be best friends and brothers forever because you would be out of the way but instead, capping you ruined just about everything and he's mad about it. Super-duper mad..."

"I can tell. Did he put those fingerprints on your arms? The shiner around your eye?"

"I like it rough, Puddin'. You should give it a try. Get some pretty marks of your own."

"Don't call me Puddin'. Your marks aren't pretty and they're not from liking it rough. They're from your boyfriend being an abusive mouth breathing shithead."

"Well, that's just mean!"

"Not as mean as he is to you. Anyone who thinks it's okay to treat their partner like a punching bag is disgusting and deserves to die in a fire. Period."

"...so me-an...you're not looking at the big picture...you don't know him like I do..."

"I wish I didn't know him at all but alas, poor goddamned Yorick. You do realize that he doesn't really love or care about you, right? If you dropped dead right in front of him, he would just go find someone else. He wouldn't even have a real funeral for you. You're nothing but another sucker that's willing to do his dirty work for him. You're 3 holes for him to bust a fat nut in and that's it. You ain't shit to him and you don't see it. I feel really bad for you."

"Ohhh, grumpy baby alley cat's all of a sudden an expert on true love? You think you can judge us? What do you think is gonna happen with Wet Blanket Brucie down the line? Do you really think you're gonna live happily ever after? You're gonna go around the world with him and be his bodyguard and let him do you in any boardroom he wants? You're gonna marry him? You're gonna be the Lady of Wayne Manor and start popping out his ugly little bouncing billionaire brats? You're gonna be the Queen Bee MILF and make mango mimosas to wash down the magic brownies for your book club on the weekends? Is that what you want from him? That's your dream life?"

"If he's down, fuck yeah. After all the shit we've been through, being together like that until we get dead is a great idea. It'd be fun as hell and our bouncing little billionaire brats would be absolutely fucking precious, thank you very much! I mean, they'll definitely get stuck with my hair and his nose but still..."

"Huh. Well, you just talked so bad about Mr. J but seriously? It's Bruce Wayne, as in Wayne. He could be with any broad he wants. He could drop you like a bad habit any minute now."

"He could but he won't. I'm it for him and it goes both ways."

"You sure about that, pussy-cat?"

"More than anything."

"...you really think you're so special to him? You think that you're his whole world?"

"I know I am because when it counts the most? He shows me. What's yours shown you?"

"The Truth."

"The Truth about what? Insanity?"

"No! Gotham. People. Life. I'm free!"

"Says the broad who's sitting in a cage and is gonna get deep fried at worst or locked in a padded closet at best. Ecco, that bastard hasn't shown you anything but how to completely ruin your life but he'll send someone to come get you eventually. It won't be for love, though. Unh-uh. He'll do it because it'll keep you under his thumb. He'll do it because he knows that if you ever woke up and saw that The Emperor's buck ass nude? He'd be done for. If you were smart, you'd get rid of his bitch ass and run The Dark Zone by yourself. It'd be easy. I mean, all you'd have to do is feed him a good meal, liquor him up, give him the best fuck of his life and then as soon as he falls asleep? Use a shiv to draw a big smile across his throat and let him drown. Then, you'd really be free and what's left of the gene pool would be saved, if you're not pregnant already. Wait, are you? Do you need a piss test? That's one of the few things we've got a ton of..."

"Not yet, sweetums but hopefully down the line..."

"Hopefully never. There have been enough Valeskas. The world and what's left of this place doesn't need another one running around. Did his brother really shoot you in the fucking head?"

"He sure did...and the naughty little bullet's still in there rattling around today. Watch!"

"...your guy isn't worth a pot to piss in but mine is. B isn't perfect but at the end of the day, I'm sticking with him because he's a good person with a good heart, even after all the shitty things and people that have happened to him. There is nothing good left inside of Jeremiah, if there was really any to begin with. I doubt it. He's a mad dog so do yourself and everybody else around here a favor? End it with him and kill him before he kills you. Seriously.”

//////////////////////////

"I knew a lot of folks like her back in the day. They were so hurt and lonely that they'd latch on to the first person that paid them any attention. 9 times out of 10? They would end up in the Shelters and eventually on The Hoe Stroll. A few of them even went missing...and it wasn't always men hurting girls. Sometimes, it would be a woman who'd take a boy in and I just...I had to try."

"I understand. Maybe Ecco will take your words to heart."

"Nah. She's too far gone. She's gonna stick with him to the bitter end and it sucks. It would've been awesome poetic justice if she was the one who did him in but I guess it'll have to be me."

"No."

"Jeremiah's a sick fuck, Bruce. You know that better than anyone around here. You saw how far he's willing to go to get what he wants so how the hell else are we supposed to deal with him?"

"He shouldn't just die. He needs to stand trial for everything he's done."

"All putting his guilty ass in a courtroom will do is give him a chance to blow it up."

"Selina..."

"Okay, fine. Let's say that the trial gets done without another mass murder or bombs going off...where is he supposed to go after it? Blackgate can't hold him. Arkham will just make him worse and give him more idiots to use as fodder when he breaks out. Even if the Feds take him far away from here, he'll bust out and do the same twisted shit or he'll be on Death Row getting 3 hots and a cot for 50 years before he rides the lightning down to hell. He's the reason why this city and everyone in it is fucked so he needs to die sooner rather than later."

"I agree but that doesn't mean that his executioner has to be you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"...it shouldn't have to be you."

"Well, somebody else better step the fuck up soon because I'm tired of him hurting people!"

"So am I."

It had dawned on Selina Kyle during her chat with Ecco that someone was funneling information to The Dark Zone, far more than what was coming out. On the surface, all was calm. Those who managed to get to The Green Zone told a different story. People were being tortured and killed just for the thrill of it. Supplies were strictly rationed out, tied to a system of credits. The credits were earned by causing mayhem or through hard labor.

Smaller gangs roamed the Zone's streets like packs of wild animals: fighting, partying, looting, and fucking nonstop. Jeremiah's stronghold held the biggest number of people. It was the center of the action. A select few were fanatically devoted to him like Ecco. Unfortunately, the place was mainly housing people caught in the middle, just like the ones who had escaped from Penguin's City Hall stronghold and Zone.

They were in a far worse situation and needed to be rescued. Valeska was counting on it happening. He would have all sorts of SAW traps ready to make things harder for everyone. He had been ignored for too long and Selina had thrown down a very public, very bloody gauntlet when she did what she did at Haven.

Jeremiah was looking for a grand Show Stopping Number. He wanted to be the Star of the Show and he would get his wish. People like Jim Gordon wouldn't let the shitty situation stand for much longer. They couldn't. After all, they were do-gooders and stalwart heroes. Their noble work was never done. Plus, nobody deserved to be trapped with a leisure suit wearing off brand Jim Jones with a fetish for domestic terrorism.

Not to mention that everybody, even those who initially benefited from The Bridges Falling, hated the dumb fuck for making it happen with help from Ra-men Noodle Soup.

Mercifully, that twisted bastard was very much dead and would stay that way. The Knife had done him in just before the bombs blew. Barbara had grabbed Bruce and used him to ram the enchanted blade straight into where the man's heart would have been if he had one. After slaughtering all the men, Ra's Al Gul's female followers had pledged their allegiance to her, giving her a devoted Amazon Army, but the damage was done.

Destroying the bridges ruined everything for everyone. Initially, it had been like Criminal Christmas but now, it was after New Year's and everyone was hungover and depressed.

Yes, the bad guys finally got their glorious victory but at what cost? Ruling Gotham didn't mean anything if supplies couldn't come into the city. Ruling Gotham didn't mean anything if the people they wanted to take advantage of inside of it died or rioted before they could. Fresh and packaged food, clean drinking water, safe places to sleep, medicine, ammo, clothes, booze, drugs...everything was running low. There was only so much that could be done before the situation got even worse.

They were running out of options and most dangerously, they were running out of hope.

Selina knew all too well what a lack of hope caused and she didn't want to see it happen again.

Salvation lay in Reunification with the mainland.

No matter what side of the law you were on, no matter what Zone or Turf you lived in, if one had an ounce of sanity left, they prayed to whoever and whatever they believed in for Reunification.

The government was doing everything to avoid making it happen, citing the ongoing danger.

Jeremiah Valeska was hands down the biggest problem keeping help away. If the impending rescue mission went well? If everyone in the city pooled resources and teamed up to take the circus freak's cult down for good afterwards? If they could show proof of Jeremiah's death or proof that he'd never be a major threat again like Sofia Falcone? It would eliminate lots of, if not all of the excuses and red tape. The few good people left in the government plus volunteers from all over the world could step up and come through. Then, they could all work together to rebuild and make the city better than ever.

They could heal and things could finally get back to as normal as Gotham would allow.

Despite getting out of their bed, Bruce hadn't joined her on the window seat and she knew why.

Ecco knew way too much about their relationship to be guessing. That meant that there was at least one spy inside the GCPD, Haven, and a bunch of snitches looking for street cred lurking about. Looking down, the night was dark and still. However, that didn't mean that they were alone. Yes, the 5 blocks around the townhouse were virtually deserted but there were lots of hiding places. Breaking into a house was child's play and spy cameras were better than ever. Valeska had been a brilliant scientist and engineer like Lucius Fox before he lost his marbles. If he really wanted to see and hear them living their lives?

"...let's give them something to talk about. They want to watch us? Fine. I don't give a shit about them and you shouldn't either because none of them matter. We do. We're good and he can't take that away from us. I won't let him."

Over the years, Selina had made the common mistake of equating femininity with weakness. She was a kid and later a woman on Gotham's mean streets. There was no room to be soft. There was no time to be weak and really, if she had a choice between swiping a carton of milk or a tube of lip gloss? It would be the carton of milk every time. She had to be practical. She had to be strong at all times...but that way of thinking was wrong. Selina was strong and badass no matter what she wore or stole. Nothing was stopping her from being soft yet strong except for her own bullshit. Having come to that realization, she had started making slow but permanent changes.

Soft fabrics and textures, brighter colors, makeup and nail polish...Selina had always appreciated pretty things. If she wasn't stealing basic things for survival, she would take jewelry, particularly diamonds. Nowadays, she indulged that side of her through her loungewear. She still wore Bruce's clothes but mainly, she donned nightgowns and robes when at rest. The robes were soft and warm, some even having deep enough pockets to hold multiple weapons. Her nightgowns ranged from hip to floor length. They had lace detail, pearl buttons, and satin bows to be tied or untied. Some of the gowns were thick, preserving her modesty and others were silky sheer, leaving very little to the imagination.

Selina had also started putting her hair up again. As wild as her curls had become, it was the only option other than a buzz cut. She was sure that she would look great with short hair but she wasn't brave enough to reach for the clippers yet. Her hair being up most of the time meant that she had a growing collection of pins, brooches, clips, and barrettes. Her favorites were a gift from Bruce. The large pins were platinum with raised cat's paw black diamond detail. Where and how he had gotten ahold of them was anyone's guess but she adored them. They were strong enough to keep her mane under wraps without pain. They doubled as lock picks and in a pinch, they could be weapons. They probably wouldn't slit a throat but when she went for the eyes?

Before Bruce could get settled, Selina was already invading and annexing his personal space.

He laughed at her audacity and laid back, happily letting her use him as a mattress.

Bruce was warm and smelled like safety. He had run out of his toiletries and while she did miss the spiced pine, he still smelled like home. His lips pressed against her temple and Selina hid her face in his chest. The full moon was bright in the smoggy skies and they were as safe as Gotham allowed them to be at the moment.

When times of peace came, it was best to grab onto them with both hands. How and why Bruce saw her as a part of his peace confused her to no end but Selina felt the same way about him.

That feeling of peace also added to her protectiveness over him.

People were always trying to take him away. They were jealous of his high social status, angry at him for interfering with whatever questionable and illegal stuff they did, or just plain nuts.

They wanted him dead and gone. They wanted him maimed and they desperately wanted to bring him down to their level to break him beyond repair. Bruce hadn't given in to any of them. He had made mistakes but he was still good to the bone. He genuinely wanted to be a good person and he wouldn't give up his light without a fight to the end. If Selina had a say in the matter, she would be fighting right by his side.

Bruce being Bruce would try to stop her but she would shut that shit down with prejudice. She did what she wanted whenever she wanted. Nobody could tell her what to do. No matter what happened, at the end of the day, they were in it together. She and Bruce were their best selves together. They could take on the biggest threats and win, even when one or both of them got hurt. Even at her angriest at him and vice versa, when it counted the most, they were a team.

No, they were a family.

"...everything you said to Ecco about our possible future earlier...did you mean it?"

"Yeah."

"How long have you felt that way?"

"A while. I just...I figure that if I'm gonna be happy down the road, like legit happy? Then, you're in the mix and if I wasn't serious about us sticking together, then I wouldn't be here with you right now. Does that make sense?"

"It does."

It was hard for her to trust. It was even harder for her to talk about her feelings but Selina wanted things to be crystal clear. Most of the problems between her and Bruce started with a misunderstanding. Not only that but Selina had seen what happened with other couples when they weren't honest with each other about themselves. It led to drama and all sorts of heartbreak that she didn't want either of them to feel again.

Outside of her relationship with Bruce, Selina didn't want to wake up 10, 20 years from now and have nothing to really show for her life but regret. She needed to change her ways and mean it.

Many would call her wrong to change. They would say that she was being stupid and weak.

She wasn't. She had thought long and hard about it.

Being trapped in that damned hospital bed gave her plenty of time to mull over her options.

At the time, the only endgame she saw and wanted for her future was death. She was a cripple, a burden, and she wanted out. It was no less than what she deserved, she figured. She had been playing Russian Roulette with her life for years and the bullet had finally been in the chamber.

Selina had given up and had expected everyone else to do the same. That hadn't happened and against all odds, she got another chance. She had been knocked down but not out.

Bruce had gone into the belly of Ivy Pepper III's poisonous plant covered beast to get help for her. He had stood up to a very angry, witch hunting mob and to Ivy herself more than once. He had risked life, limb, and what precious little sanity he had left just for her. The Root had fixed her spine and Selina was back on her feet almost immediately. She could stand, walk, run, and jump again. She was stronger than before, faster than before, smarter than before and she could do anything without feeling awful burning, numbing pain. Her dreamy words to Bruce before they embraced each other were absolute truth: she was better, better than ever before.

With her new abilities, Selina could become the undisputed Queen of Gotham's Underground. Either that or she could be a top tier Thief for Hire, taking on Jobs and pocketing big bucks.

Choosing either of those paths would set her up for failure.

They would make for a hollow and sad life, filled with nothing but danger and stress.

She would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder for the cops or the Feds. She wouldn't have any true friends or family anymore. She would end up murdered in a street war. She would get hurt worse than when Five shoved her through the window and when Jeremiah shot her combined. The best outcome for her if she kept going as she was would be Exile, never able to set foot in Gotham again out of fear of rotting in a prison cell or bullet to the head.

She didn't want that.

Selina had witnessed the Rise and Fall of many of Gotham's rulers, people who seemed to be indestructible. Those people ended up locked in a cage, on the run, and dying violently. Not only did they end up betrayed and dead, their downfall always came about because of someone they trusted. Either someone they trusted or someone they underestimated. Mainly, their end came from someone that they had fucked over and didn't kill or make amends with afterwards.

Selina wasn't sure what she was going to do with her life next. She had been a Thief for almost as long as she could remember but enough was enough. It truly was.

She had messed up a lot. She had been selfish, bitchy, and lost good friends. She had backed the wrong players in Turf wars, leading to people dying and getting hurt who didn't deserve it. She had hurt people who cared about her and honestly, there was only so much dumb/good luck left in the world for her. She had gotten more than her fair share of it.

It was time to straighten up and fly right before it was too late.

Selina only had 7 of her 9 lives left and she would be damned if she wasted them.

/

8 Days Later...

"I thought you'd be Jim."

"Yeah, me too but he's got his hands full with Lee right now."

"That better be fucking literally. The woman risked it all to get herself and those kids away from those tunneling psychos because she believes in him: not the GCPD, not the government, but him. Even after all the bad things that happened between them, she did that shit so he needs to take his head out of his ass and be with her forever. He's never gonna do any better and as awesome as Lee is, she won't either. They're it for each other. They tried to pretend that they weren't and made things bad for themselves and everybody around them. They can't get a do-over but they can move forward and they should. They'll have to work their asses off for it but it's doable. They're good together so they need to stop being dumb and start being happy before it's too late."

"...you ever consider writing an advice column? You'd make a killing."

"Anything's possible. Wanna come up?"

"Nah. I've had my fill of roof ledges and of being hypnotized. I should've shot that twisted little rhyming freak in the face when I had the chance."

"You'll get another one real soon. Tetch always follows the craziest ones and ain't nobody in town crazier than Valeska, not even Barbara, which is what you're here to talk to me about."

"Yeah."

"...when he tries to kill B and Lurch again, I'm gonna do what I gotta do to protect them but we're going to The Dark Zone to save people and to take as much loot that we can carry with us. I can keep my cool."

"Are you sure?"

"Mm-hm. I'm not gonna let him win, Harvey. It's part of my whole "know better, do better" Master Plan...plus, I don't wanna end up like Tabby. She let revenge get in the way, dropped her guard, and now she's Gone. I mean, she, her brother, and Butch did some fucked up shit to Penguin and his mom that definitely needed to be paid for with blood but she still didn't deserve to die like that. She should've had a fair fight. Yeah, he would've got her in the end but he'd be dead too so it would've balanced out, y'know?"

"Yeah...speaking of keeping things balanced, could you get down from there?"

"But why, though? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Giggling, Selina did two flips in quick succession before rising up on her steel clawed fingertips.

"Knock it off! See, this is why I hopefully don't have kids..."

The Twelfth Precinct was a buzzing hub of activity. At midnight, a trio of emaciated children had shown up in the lobby with haunted eyes. None of them had said a word but a note had been pinned to one of their dingy red and white striped shirts. Letters from various magazines had been glued to the yellow legal pad paper, spelling out the words COME SEE ME. I'M BORED. Underneath was a picture of a deranged clown's grin in purple Sharpie, surrounded by laughter written in blood. Whose blood the HAs had been printed in was a mystery but the message was clear: Valeska was more than ready for his closeup.

At least the bastard had the decency to throw down his gauntlet before winter arrived. It was going to be hard enough getting everyone in and out of The Dark Zone alive. The last thing they needed was someone to slip on some ice or for a blizzard to be going on, too. Maybe if things went well, the government would take their heads out of their asses before Christmas.

After downing the last of her water, Selina went towards the file room. There was a loose vent cover and she could fit into the surprisingly clean air ducts with ease. The Twelfth's basement had a boxing gym inside of it and Bruce was down there preparing for the raid. She wanted to make sure that he was okay but also didn't want to break his focus.

He needed to be at 110%.

Jeremiah wouldn't go down without a fight nor would he go down without a one on one confrontation with Bruce. It just wasn't in his nature. It wasn't in not so dearly departed his evil twin Jerome's either. Everything they did had to be dramatic. Everything had to be big, loud and the more bloodshed, the better.

God, Selina was looking forward to him being gone for good.

The world would be better off without him and his followers running around. Jeremiah being gone meant that there would be one less demented asshole trying to hurt or kill Bruce. That was always good in her book...

Getting to her destination, Selina stretched before replacing the vent cover. The basement locker room was co-op but only slightly bigger than the ones upstairs. It was used for storage mainly but people could still get a quick, lukewarm shower or a nap if they needed to. Years of practice kept her light on her feet and she sat down on the bench in front of the first row of gray lockers. The room was dark but the gym's overhead lights shone through the exit's frosted glass window, highlighting all the shadows.

"...you're worried."

"I'm not just worried. I'm terrified. I don't want her within a mile of him but Selina is one of the best fighters we have, if not the best. Plus, if I tried to tell her to stay here, she would not only come with us anyway but she would literally whip my ass for bossing her around outside of our bedroom. No, thank you."

"Smart man. Selina's not going to risk her life without a good reason. She never does."

"I know and she's right. Jeremiah needs to be stopped for good. His death is the only way that we can be sure that he and his followers don't hurt anyone else, at least for a little while."

"But?"

"...I don't want her to be like I was after killing Ra's. She's already been through so much and I don't...I know that she's killed before. I know that but it's different this time, Alfred. Everything is different now and I can't lose her. Not her, too."

"You won't lose her."

"How do you know?"

"Faith."

Faith was another concept that Selina had trouble coming to terms with. The nuns at the orphanage had spoken about it all the time, as had the priests during the sermons she had attended. Street kids called it Sermons for Supper because after every service, there would be a hot meal and supplies from a food bank offered to them.

Faith was held up as the key to ultimate happiness and salvation, which she believed to a point but at the end of the day? The only faith Selina had was faith in herself.

Putting faith in others was a risk that usually wasn't worth it. It was just another way to get fucked over and heartbroken. Maria had taught her that lesson. Her interactions with Gotham's Rulers and her Squad had been a harsh teacher, too. Don't put faith in anyone for more than a few minutes at a time. Any longer and things would go wrong.

That was Rule Number 2.

Rule Number 1 was to Look Out for #1.

But Alfred had faith in her now. Gordon and the other cops did, too and Bruce? Bruce thought the fucking world of her. He really did and Selina just didn't get it. What did he see that she didn't? What did the others see that she didn't? She really should ask them one day but honestly, Selina was afraid of what they'd say. Another Rule of survival was to make sure that no one had any expectations of her outside of the bare minimum. She had broken it before.

Hell, she was shattering it now.

She had chosen a side and was open about said loyalty. Before, Selina kept her options open and made sure that everyone knew she was going to save her skin first, no matter what happened. Now, she had cut off all ways to make a clean break from everyone around her and more importantly, she didn't want to. Selina wouldn't be any better off if she left Gotham behind nor would anyone else. She would miss her family so fucking much and they would miss her too because she mattered to them.

Selina mattered to people as herself now.

Not as an elite Thief, not as a glorified Errand Girl, just herself.

Would she ever get used to that?

Deciding to save the rest of her existential crisis for later, Selina joined them in the gym. Bruce was sitting on the staircase, head bowed. He looked as if the world was resting on his shoulders. Alfred had his pistol up but as soon as he saw that it was her, he lowered it immediately.

The relief in the man's body language said it all and Selina nodded, removing her jacket.

"I got him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Jim was looking for you. He says he wants you to team up with the Sniper Squad."

The ball was in her court now. Bruce was expecting her to make the first move and Selina wasn't about to disappoint him. However, she was going to do it differently. That was another part of her new lifestyle: being unpredictable in good ways. Also, Bruce was in a very dark place at the moment so her usual methods would shut him down. She didn't want that. Neither of them needed that. Soon, they would be facing the monster in the closet head on. If they weren't at their best, Jeremiah would run roughshod over both of them and Selina would be damned if she let that happen.

The asshole had won his battles but he wasn't going to win the war.

In a smooth motion, Selina had her bull whip unfurled. The tip of it hit the boxing ring's bell dead on, clanging it. She did it twice more before taking 5 steps backward, aiming again. Her next target was a large string of half lit Christmas lights. They fell from their place in the corner after 2 strikes. For the next few minutes, she picked random objects in the room to hit, continuing to add distance and speed to her movements. Accuracy and agility won fights or at least bought her enough time to run away from whoever wanted a piece of her most of the time.

Once Selina was warmed up, she began running through her repertoire of combat moves. Many of them had been taught to her by Tabitha but Selina had come up with a few attacks on her own. She had been meaning to teach them to her but so much happened before she could.

She started hanging around Bruce after his Spiral ended, cutting into her time on the Streets and at Siren's. Tabitha had gotten caught up in what would end up being the last round of her war with Penguin while trying to get help for Butch Gilzean's Frankenstein infection. Sofia Falcone went off the rails and started her own war with Penguin before Lee's headshot made the snooty bitch into steamed broccoli. Raise da Roof got resurrected and went on a magical rampage.

Shortly afterwards, Valeska had set up his Little Warehouse of Horrors, making her have to save Alfred and Bruce from Scarecrow's upgraded terror gas. Valeska shot her in the spine and paralyzed her. The Bridges Fell and then the shootout after the helicopter crash happened...god, if Barbara hadn't already laid claim to the little shit stain's life, Selina would take it herself!

Penguin had raised so much hell leading up to The Bridges Falling and the way he killed Tabitha was just plain wrong. Her sister deserved a far better death than the one she got. Then, his Marie Antoinette behavior towards the people living in his Zone, the trouble he had caused until the attack at Haven...

"I'm sorry, Selina."

The defeat in Bruce's voice melted and shattered her heart in her chest. Selina joined him on the staircase and rested her head on his right bicep.

"Why are you sorry?"

"...I don't know. I'm just am."

"You told Alfred how you really feel about what's going on and that's good. You need to do that more often. Holding that kind of heavy stuff in isn't good for your brain, especially nowadays."

"I know. I've been working on it. Cat, I..."

"Stop. I get it. I'm scared shitless, too."

"You are?"

"Duh. Bruce, saying that I can keep my cool is one thing but actually doing it while rescuing a bunch of traumatized people from the sickest fuck that's ever slithered out of the swamp is a whole other ballgame. Jeremiah is sick, twisted, and all the way wrong, even by Gotham's standards. He's a monster that hurts people because he thinks it's the right thing to do, which is way worse than him just doing it for funsies. You don't want me within a mile of him? Well, I sure as shit don't want him or any of his minions to be on the same planet as you. None of them deserve to breathe the same air as you and I fucking hate it when you're in pain."

He snorted rudely at her last declaration and Selina chuckled before clarifying.

"I fucking hate it when you're in pain that I didn't cause or when you're in pain that could put you in a padded room or body bag. Jeremiah hits all of those marks and then some."

Bruce nodded in agreement before closing his eyes again. He looked exhausted and like he was fighting through one hell of a headache. Wanting to help, Selina slowly made her way onto his lap, purring softly. Once she was straddling him, she removed her gloves before letting her nails rake over his scalp. Bruce rested his head on her shoulder to give her better access and she settled in. His hands easily spanned her waist and his fingers locked, holding her fast.

The Root fixed her spine and changed everything else about her. Selina was still human overall but as time passed, more feline behavior and thinking came into the mix. The changes were most obvious when she was angry and especially when it came to showing Bruce affection. She would purr at him, sit on his lap, ambush him, rub against him, and groom him when he would let her.

He always let her.

It made them both feel better.

Life was better when they were together.

It still sucked but having each other made things much easier.

Bruce's hair was getting long. It wasn't hair metal long but it was longer than she had ever seen it. Honestly, she didn't mind. The length gave her more to hold onto when they were really going at it and it was silky soft. It was silky soft, fun to play with, and annoyingly manageable. All he had to do was wet it and take a comb to it before he would be good to go. Meanwhile, really tackling her hair took hours of strength, courage, and at least three tumblers of bourbon.

"Ooh, I'm starting to see some silver fox action...are you getting old on me, Master Bruce?"

Her imitation of Alfred was completely spot on and never failed to make him giggle.

"Any gray hairs that I have now and in the future are entirely because of you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"What the hell haven't you done?"

"I can think of a couple of things...speaking of us getting old and gray, I'm actually 20, not 19."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep. I got bored while Vanessa's crew did a supply swap so I went down to Gotham General's file room and found the O.G. print of my birth certificate. The rest of my birthday's the same but I'm 20. It didn't say who my father is but given Maria's fabulous taste in men, he's either a filthy rich dipshit that she trick-rolled after a Gala or a wannabe hustler she decided to share body heat with to get by. Either way, I don't wanna know. Not anymore. As far I'm concerned, I'm the twisted rage filled root of the Kyle family tree and that's A-OK with me. Hey, that rhymed!"

"It did and it was wonderful...are you sure?"

"Mm-hm."

"All right. But if you ever change your mind..."

"I'll let you know and we'll go looking for him...do you feel better now?"

"Yes. Thank you, Cat."

"You're welcome. Do you want me to get off of you?"

"Not yet."

"Okay, then...wanna make out?"

/

"What else did you find?"

"Another first aid kit, 8 mason jars, a half empty bottle of scotch, and some big ass bundles of yarn, like really good yarn. I think it might be cashmere."

"Let me see...it is."

"Groovy. We can use it to make socks and patch blankets or the docs can use it for surgeries. Whatever comes first. Do you know this place? It seems like you would know this place..."

"No, but after things get back to normal, I'll be sure to find out who it belongs to."

Even though word had likely spread about the impending Raid, everyone involved in it kept things as lowkey as possible. There was a sense of urgency in The Green Zone and amongst its allies but there had been no showing off. They would leave all of that to Valeska.

Everything went into battening down the hatches. Everyone had a job to do, even some of the kids (not by force, never ever by force!) and they would face whatever was to come head on. Gotham was no stranger to crises. Over the years, it had been the center of absolute mayhem. From gas attacks to magical curses to torture disguised as Frankenstein "science", and so many fires, so many explosions. The Bridges Falling was just the latest example of it. The city had been rocked to its foundations and while it was battered, it was still standing. It was ready for more rounds in the ring and whatever happened? Happened. The city would survive and recover or go down swinging. At this point, there were no other options.

As grim as that fact was, it was also comforting.

One way or another, it was finally going to be over...

Selina joined him at the window, standing tall next to him as always.

"We've got it. Tomorrow Night? We'll get it done and we'll get help from across the river."

"You don't know that."

"If you go into a fight or Job thinking that you're gonna get your ass kicked, then you will. As far as I'm concerned, Jeremiah is as dead as Raisin Bran Crunch. They'll burn in Hell together forever and the government will be out of excuses for staying away from here. They'll help out or we'll go to the Media with both barrels to make them. You know how Foxy and his Crew figured out a way to get radio messages out to folks overseas?"

"Yes."

"Well, somebody found a video camera to go with it and people are already telling their Stories. Once they get to the general public, I give it less than 2 days before the government shows up fashionably late with fake apologies and a blank check for everyone's troubles. Nobody wants to be known for breaking those nifty little Geneva rules, after all. At least not in a way that they can be pinched."

"Since when have you been such an optimist?"

"I'm not. I'm just stating facts."

"...I hope you're right."

"I'm always right."

"Debatable."

"Even when I'm wrong, there's enough right to be had in what I say and do so things work out."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"You understood me, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then it makes sense. Now, are you gonna keep brooding or are you gonna come to bed?"

"...both."

Bruce had a playful side. It was usually hidden but when it came out? God, it was fucking awesome. It was also a way of letting Selina know that life's hard knocks hadn't gotten him all the way down. She laughed as he tackled her to the mattress, holding him to her. Her hands went to his shoulders as he turned them to the side, keeping his back to the locked door.

She didn't have to ask why.

Bruce felt guilty for being unable to protect her in the Study. He shouldn't but he did. Valeska's actions were his own and he had been so determined that even if he had been able to cover her, all it would've done was get them both shot. They didn't need that. Neither of them deserved that.

God, they had been through so much that they didn't deserve.

It was a miracle that they were alive and mostly sane.

Intercepting his hand before it could bury in her curls, Selina pressed a kiss to the back of it before resting it right where her heart was pounding. Bruce's gaze was painfully soft, open and full of love, desire, worry, always the worry...

"Everything is gonna work out the way it should. You'll see."

She would not accept another outcome.

/

"He'll slow you down."

"He already has but y'know what? I would rather be slow as fuck with him than fast as fuck without him. I'll get where I need to go regardless."

"You feel that way right now but wait until he..."

"Stop."

"Selina..."

"Look, if I haven't been able to talk myself out of being with him by now, then you're sure as shit not gonna do it so just let it go. Please."

"...fine. You want another?"

"Yeah, but I can't. Not until after."

"It's a suicide mission. All of them are heading into a death trap."

"You're not wrong."

"But you're still gonna go with them? You want to get even with the ginger that badly?"

"That and people in The Dark Zone need help, Barbara. They've already been ditched by the Feds. They don't deserve to be ditched by the few decent people left around here. They really don't and if I don't go on the Raid, B will definitely do something overly noble and fucking stupid before they can stop him and then we'll have to deal with Strange's bitch ass to put his pieces back together again. That little Frankenstein bastard makes my skin crawl and he'd definitely try to force me in all of my plant based catgirl freak of nature glory to be his next test subject as payment. Fuck that shit."

"Since when have you been such a bleeding heart?"

"Since always. I'm just more open about it now because I'm too tired to keep pretending. Don't get me wrong: I'm still a cunt. I will be until the day I die and I kick Tabby's ass down in Hell because she's on my throne..."

"Not if I do it first!"

"...I would pay top dollar to see that...the point is that I care. I care and I wanna use whatever time I've got left on this piece of shit rock that we call Earth to do more good things than bad. I should be dead or trapped in a wheelchair right now but I'm not so I gotta square things with whoever's in charge up there for giving me a second chance. Well, third, if you've been keeping score at home. I'm not saying that I'm gonna turn into the next Mother Theresa but..."

"I get it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just...I don't wanna bury you, too, Kitty-Cat. Do your best to not let that bleeding heart of yours put you down before your time but if it does? Take them all with you. Burn it down, burn it down..."

"...all the way to the got-damned ground!"

"That's my girl...so, is this the part where we hug?"

"It could be. It's up to you."

"Then it is. Bring it in."

"I'll see you soon."

"...y-you promise?"

"I promise."

///////////////////

"Y'know...it's a just damned shame. You're a damned shame. You had a chance to be different. You spent so much time in your secret hideout maze, doing kickass science things and you threw it all away. You could've been like Lucius and used your mind to help people live better but you didn't. You could've asked for help after you got hit with a Nutfluenza money shot or come up with a Cure but you didn't. You decided to act just like your piece of shit Evil Twin and make the whole city suffer. Actually, I liked Jerome better. Sure, he was a psycho with way too much time on his hands but at least he wasn't a fucking pedophile."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Oh, wait, I'm sorry. I meant an ephebophile. B falls right in that age group for freaks like you. Where's Chris Hansen when you need him? Why don't you have a seat over there?"

"You can't sit there and judge me. You're nothing but disgusting street trash and..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...I've heard it all before and from people better than you. Get better material, Pennywise."

"You ruined everything!"

"Oh, did I? I can't imagine how. You want some aspirin? I mean, getting caught in and half buried in rubble after a big ass explosion has got to hurt more than your pride..."

"I don't want or need anything from you."

"Obviously, you do or you would have tried and failed to kill me again by now."

Another tunnel operation had been found but instead of trying to get across the river, the route had led to Wayne Manor. Jeremiah and Ecco were long gone but the tunnels were ready for use. While everyone else had been debating (arguing...) about what to do next, Selina had gone forward, unwilling to wait for them. The bloodlust from had been soothed by dealing with the minions who tried to stop the mission but curiosity itched and burned underneath her skin.

The tunnels had wooden supports and lanterns, along with stacks upon stacks of crates. Some were plain wood, holding various supplies, but what stood out to her were the red plastic cubes. Selina was no scientist or demolition expert but typically, bright red screamed kaboom at the top of its lungs. Stepping through the exit, she had been both impressed and horrified to recognize the hallway leading straight to Thomas Wayne's Study. What the fuck? Why would Valeska dig a tunnel leading there? He could've easily made a functional tunnel to get himself and his disciples free.

In fact, that would've been the best move. Anyone who could find a way out of Gotham's ruins automatically held all the cards in the deck and if Valeska had a fraction of common sense left, he would've immediately contacted all the Zone Leaders to do business from the other side of the river.

He had nothing but obsession left in his mind. Selina was no stranger to that mentality and had put the pieces together. He wanted to use the tunnel to access Wayne Manor so he could destroy it like the Bridges. The red containers were bombs or had explosives stashed inside of them, likely both. Whether Bruce was supposed to be inside was unclear but given how Valeska liked to operate, Selena would say that he was trying to blow Alfred up. Despite the Townhouse being Home Base, he still came to the Manor every weekend to check that no one was squatting and to clean.

Attacking the city, destroying the Bridges, shooting her...it was a Game to Jeremiah. Everything was a sick, twisted game to him and if Bruce wasn't going to play with him, then he had to be punished. But, why now? That was the Million Dollar Question: why was Jeremiah making so many major moves in so little time? It was like he was preparing to host a formal Gala or birthday party...or an anniversary...

"...it's because of what happened to his parents. The tunnel, all the bombs...you were gonna blow him up on the Anniversary and just wipe out the whole Wayne family, including their home. Damn. I guess if you can't have him, nobody can, huh?"

"You're not seeing the big picture...I should've been there...it would've been for the best.!"

"You wanted to be there? I was there. I saw...I heard...if you gave a damn about him, the only way you being there would've been for the best, is if you found a way to make sure that they were able to go home as a family! I was there that night and I didn't help them. I couldn't because I was too scared and too selfish. Well, that and because it happened so fast. They were...they were just trying to go home. They were in that alley because they were trying to go home and because of this city's bullshit, because of this city's Elite's Illuminati on meth bullshit, they were shot down in front of their baby and he ain't been right ever since! My word isn't worth a lot but I can promise you that you did not want to be there!"

One of Selina's biggest regrets was her lack of action during that night. She had only been 15 at the time, yes but she could've tried. She could've thrown the carton of milk or the wallet she had lifted. She could've screamed, drawing the gunman's attention, and given the Waynes a chance to run. She could've...but she couldn't have. Her heart screamed otherwise but her mind...even if she had made a move, it wouldn't have made much of a difference in the long run. Knowing what she did now, it would've just ended up with her and Bruce in the grave, too.

Thomas and Martha Wayne had pissed the wrong people off. They hadn't meant to do so but they had. They had kept deep dark secrets, big ugly secrets that had been on the verge of coming out, and things had to stay status quo. Dead Men Told No Tales so the Hit had been called.

Simple as that.

It was nothing personal.

It was just business.

The idea of someone recreating that awful night made her want to tear the whole world apart but Selina would be glad to settle for the prowling "man" below her. Valeska was currently pacing the catwalks above the vats of bubbling foaming mystery fluid. Given that they were currently in Ace Chemicals, Selina could assume that the main ingredient to the frothy white fluid was acid. Acid and other scientific things that could destroy anyone or anything. That had been the other part of the plan. Valeska wanted to poison what little fresh water was left with a truck full of acid bombs and fireworks. Fortunately, the destruction of the Wayne Manor tunnel and Gordon getting the truck away from him had prevented that from happening.

Now, it was a waiting game. Selina had claimed a spot near the roof, giving her a clear view without being in easy range for a bullet. It was wonderful to see the surviving bastard responsible for everyone's misery unraveling in real time. Up until now, he had a Master Plan, a Mission that he had taken great pains to accomplish. Valeska wanted Gotham to be a shell of itself forever and he wanted Bruce to be a part of his fantasies.

Since Bruce had proven more than once that his answer would be a firm 'NO', he decided to target those who meant the most to him as punishment. Valeska had scored some critical hits against all of them but at the end of the day, he was doomed and he knew it.

"...they're coming for you, Jeremiah. Everybody knows where you are and that you're not untouchable anymore. You might as well put the bullet you should've put in my head in yours because if the Zone leaders or Feds don't get you, the whole city is gonna tear you to shreds for getting us into this mess. Raise da Roof used you like he did to everyone else and left you holding the bag."

Before Valeska could retort, several smoke bombs rolled in and detonated. The sound of sirens and angry Gotham citizens soon followed. A grin lit up her face at the terror on stupid fuck's face.

Ah, the calvery...

/

The Next Morning...

"He had it coming."

"...he did."

"It was either him or us. It wasn't going to be us."

"He shouldn't have threatened you. He knew that I would..."

"You did what any person worth a damn would do to protect yourself and your family."

Jeremiah Valeska had fallen into one of the vats of mystery chemicals. More accurately, he had been kicked off the catwalk he had claimed for himself by Bruce.

Bruce being Bruce had gone full out. As soon as he was inside, he was taking the stairs two at a time. He hadn't let Valeska say a word before tackling him and slamming an elbow into his face. Selina had descended from her hiding place and unfurled her bull whip, cracking it in challenge. Even if Jeremiah managed to get away from him, he wasn't getting away from her.

Every time the demented clown managed to land a hit on Bruce or tried to run, he got a lashing from her, enraging him further. He yelled that he was simply trying to bring truth to Bruce, to all of Gotham and she kept ruining everything. He called her every name under the sun and vowed that not only would he shoot her in the head as he should've in the study, by the time he was done with her, she would beg for him to do so.

That had been his last mistake.

To give Valeska a little bit of credit, he hadn't screamed when he went flying. A noise that could've been one escaped him as he went under but it was mostly gurgling. The blaring of alarms filled the factory and whatever kept the vats bubbling shut down immediately. On the surface of Valeska's vat was a thick layer of makeup and slowly, slowly, his limp body bobbed up to the surface. The sight of him was utterly repulsive, the stench choking, but even as Selina knelt with Bruce, even as she hugged him from behind as he wept, she smiled.

Just as she had told Ecco, it was better for the enemy to die than her family.

Ecco was dead. Not only was she dead, Valeska had killed her himself. Well, he had given her a coup de grace shot. Once the prisoners realized what was happening, they began to fight their captors with everything they had. Ecco had been trampled in the chaos and someone had slashed her just below the ribs, mortally wounding her. She had gotten up and limped to Valeska who had been about to make his escape. According to witnesses, Valeska had hugged her before shooting her in the head again, this time center mass.

Then, he left in his purple Lamborghini like it was nothing because to him?

She was just that.

Nothing.

Nothing but another pawn to sacrifice. Nothing but a bedwarmer and an ego boost.

Sometimes, Selina hated it when she was right.

It was such a fucking waste.

The sound and sight of military helicopters going past the windows was welcome but infuriating. Just as Selina predicted, as soon as the full truth of what was happening in Gotham reached international ears in power, the government quickly got into motion. The minefield that had been illegally placed was gone within 4 hours and ships were already docking. Some were evacuation ships. Other were supply ships. Still others were converted into medical ships and dormitories. People were getting in contact with loved ones and the outside world for the first time in nearly 3 years. People were eating fresh food again. People had fresh water again. Not only that but the streets were filled with Jeeps, tanks, delivery trucks, soldiers, doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, social workers...

They should have shown up sooner.

Despite the euphoria of finally getting the help they've needed, that was the overwhelming sentiment in the air. Gordon being Gordon said it straight to the Head Honcho's face and to the man's credit, he had readily agreed.

There was no getting around it. The Fallen Bridges crisis had been mismanaged and there was blood gushing from the government's fingertips. Selina wanted every coward involved to pay for abandoning them. They deserved to pay with interest for what they had allowed.

They deserved to suffer like the bastards who had directly caused the crisis.

Ra's Al Gul was dead forever, reduced to ashes and his empire in ruins.

Through the window, they were looking at what was left of Jeremiah Valeska.

He had survived his fall but alive wasn't a word that anyone could use to describe him. He was heavily sedated with an IV drip providing fluids with a feeding tube in his nose, and an oxygen mask over his face. His wrists were handcuffed to the railings and he would be under constant supervision via cameras. He would spend the next few months in the locked hospital room until a custom-built cell in Arkham's deepest depths was ready. No medical personnel would be allowed to tend to Valeska without armed bodyguards present.

The vat of chemicals had made Jeremiah into a cross between a zombie, a broken mannequin and beef jerky. His hair was crispy and most of it had fallen out. His face was destroyed from his injuries, swollen and sunken in all at once. His hospital gown engulfed his skinny body and his blankets were clean but far from comfortable.

It was way better than the bastard deserved. They should've just thrown him in the harbor.

"You were right. We took Jeremiah down and outside help is finally here. We're safe."

"We are. See? I told you everything would be..."

"Selina."

Bruce's solemn hessonite gaze had something new within it, something that made her pulse pick up. Selina knew in her bones that Bruce would never hurt her outside of defending himself and even then, he refused to do real damage. Why? Because he was a gentleman, an aristocrat, even. Also, because she was precious to him, the one who he wanted and needed to be with him. Selina didn't want to spend the rest of her life alone. She wanted to have true friends, a Squad, a family...

His arms snapped forward and Selina's gasp morphed into a deep moan as his lips crashed down on hers. The amount of passion in his kiss, the greedy possessiveness of his hands on her ass, his scent, his warmth had her rolling her hips against him, trying to feel more of him, all of him. God, she wanted to feel all of him! Someone, the worst someone, had tried to take him away from her again but had failed miserably. They had faced the sick fuck head on and beat him to a pulp. Bruce was still alive, still with her, still himself and she just...

"...need you, baby."

"...find us somewhere private."

That would be simple. Selina had made a point to learn the blueprints of every major landmark in Gotham while growing up. The knowledge had saved her life and others many times. Gotham General had been one of the first places she memorized plus her experiences in the building as a patient and visitor gave her everything she needed.

Bypassing the elevator, she led him into the stairwell and after descending 4 flights, Selina whimpered as Bruce pulled her flush against him. She rested her hands on the arms wrapped around her waist and tilted her head in offering. His kisses were tender and her knees threatened to give out as he nipped her just underneath her earlobe.

"I love you. I love you so much... mon chaton... mon ange... je t'aime tellement putain...(my kitten...my angel...I love you so fucking much...)...want to give you everything...whatever you want, Selina, it's yours..."

"You...I just want you...I-I love you, too...so fucking much...god, B, stop...let me...we need a bed...please, baby..."

"I love it when you call me baby..."

He was hers. Selina had done everything she could to fight against it, to guard her heart but Bruce Wayne was utterly irresistible to her. He brought out the best in her and it went both ways. She had hurt him in the past. He had hurt her, too but they knew better now. They knew what not to do and had accepted that while they were excellent apart, together? They were unstoppable. They could create miracles and help people and just do good things.

What she said to Barbara at Siren's was the truth. Selina had spent her childhood in Gotham's Underground, doing whatever it took to survive and to gain respect on the streets. She was tired. She had faced the karmic justice she had earned for her misdeeds but she had been saved, restored and made greater by the man she was hurriedly leading down the main hallway.

She had a fresh start, a blank slate and while she had decided to permanently change her ways, one thing always would be the same: Selina did whatever she wanted, when she wanted, and nobody could stop her.

She wanted happiness.

Everyone deserved happiness.

She had a chance for happiness, for genuine joy, and she was going to grab it with both hands. As soon as they finally got to an on-call room, Selina barely got the door open before grabbing Bruce's jacket lapels and meeting him halfway. A delighted laugh escaped her as his hands cupped her ass again and she locked her limbs around him, letting him carry her. As much as she teased him for showing off his physical strength, she loved it. Bruce was strong, he made her feel safe and what woman didn't like to feel like a princess sometimes?

Plus, him lifting her more often would give him practice for their wedding day and night.

Resting her left hand where his heart pounded, she asked a simple but potent question.

"Do you think we can find a priest before we skip town?"

Bruce being Bruce picked up on what she was truly asking immediately and slowly, his left hand went to where her heart was. His smile was brilliant as tears of joy brewed. Their kisses softened into slow sweetness and nuzzling between removing articles of clothing. Skin. She wanted skin. She wanted to feel him, all of him for the rest of her life...

"I'm lousy with rings unless I'm using them as brass knuckles so it'll be better to buy a pendant for regular days but getting a wedding set for special occasions and public appearances is a good idea. Despite all the pain and bullshit attached to being a Kyle, I still wanna hyphenate and we deserve to have a huge wedding cake, goddamn it! It's the least that those goddamned cowardly sons of clap ridden bitches can do for us, given that we spent almost 3 years doing their jobs for them while they fiddled like Nero."

"Will you...I know you typically don't like wearing dresses but..."

"There's no fucking way that I'm not wearing a wedding dress. I'm only getting married once and I wanna do it right. Besides, I look hot in lace. You know that."

"All too well. I love you, Selina Kyle-Wayne. Always."

"...show me."

////////////////////////////

"B, you've already heard me say how I feel about you in my own very special and delightful way over the years so instead of reciting regular Vows, I'm just gonna share one of my favorite poems because it's better than anything that I could ever come up with:

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."

"...Pablo Neruda's 17th sonnet."

"Uh-huh...o-other than that, I just wanna say that I love you a-and that I wanna be with you as long as this fucked up world lets me and you're my best friend and I promise that I'm gonna be a good wife to you. The best wife."

"You already are."

It was a good thing that she had rejected all makeup except a magenta lip tint because she finally lost her battle with her tears. Bucking tradition, she embraced him and Bruce held her like he never wanted to let go. There wasn't a dry eye in the 12th Precinct turned wedding hall and Selina refused to feel embarrassed about being so open with her soft feelings. It was her wedding day, the only wedding day she would ever have. It was a day of joy and the biggest Fuck You they could give to everyone who ever hurt them.

Living well is the best revenge.

"I know that Shakespeare gets lots of props for how he writes about soft feelings, which is valid but to me? Pablo is way better than him. It's not even close. I found a 'Greatest Hits' book full of his work at The Flea when I was 10. Sonnet 17 always stuck with me. Despite Maria ditching me and Gotham being Gotham, I still hoped that one day, I would find someone that I could feel the same way about. And I did. I didn't mean to but I did...does this count as us saying 'I Do' because he just called me his wife in front of everyone and lemme tell you, Padre, I just really wanna kiss my husband right now..."

"That's up to the two of you."

Their first kiss as husband and wife was sweeter than all the ones they had before.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am very pleased to introduce you all to Bruce and Selina Wayne. Congratulations to you both. Live well. Be happy."

"We'll do our best, Father Matthews. Thank you."

Selina looked down at their entwined left hands, taking in the sight of rings on their fingers. Like her beloved hair pins and wedding pendant, they were platinum with black diamonds. The diamonds were embedded in Bruce's while hers was a 4-carat princess cut, flanked by two white pearls. She still didn't know where he had gotten all of the pieces but Selina knew that the pearls were a tribute to his mother.

After all, Martha Wayne had been known for her pearls and she had been a formidable woman, a fighter to the end. Selina appreciated that and like she had just promised, she was going to be a good wife to Bruce, worthy of helping him rebuild the Wayne family.

It was standing room only so the afternoon's spread had to accommodate them. The menu itself consisted of fresh fruit and vegetable platters, charcuterie boards, lemon chicken with mushroom risotto or turkey meatloaf with mashed potatoes both with confit byaldi as sides. There was ice water, sports drinks, and a variety of protein shakes and bars. Every Gotham citizen had malnutrition. If one was lucky, they had survived on MREs, bottled/boiled tepid water and what crops that had taken root, mainly tomatoes and potatoes. And booze. Lots and lots of booze, mostly homemade and caustic.

Their wedding cake was in the center of two vanilla sheet cakes for the guests. It was a simple lemon cake with white buttercream frosting with black frosting roses. It was 3 tiers and made by a posse of older women who had made their nursing home apartment complex into a smaller version of Haven. The people rescued from The Dark Zone lived with them, benefiting them all.

The Leader, Ms. Mabel Johanssen, or Mama Jo as she was called, had taken it upon herself to help Selina find her wedding dress. She, along with Lee and Barbara, had followed Mabel to the wedding boutique she had passed down to her oldest daughter (who had thankfully been out of town when The Bridges Fell) and it had only taken 30 minutes for Selina to find everything she wanted.

Her princess style dress left her shoulders bare, had three-quarter sleeves, and the bodice was white lace with pearl buttons, the lace holding a pattern of snowdrops. The bottom of it was ankle length with had just the right amount for material for swishing while dancing and to take flight when she spun. A pair of plush white loafers finished the look. Her manicure was a simple matte black with magenta french tips.

Her 'something blue' came from the electric blue nail polish she had painted on her toes and the cerulean dress color she had chosen for her bridesmaids. She had left the dress design up to them. Lee and Barbara were more than capable of dressing themselves. Barbara had chosen a one-shoulder bodycon dress that stopped at her shins and Lee had gone with an ankle length, sleeveless empire waist dress with a sweetheart neckline. Black stilettos completed their looks.

Her 'something old' was a 3-way tie between her Bowie knife, the gold studs she had kept since before Maria abandoned her, and Alfred.

Her 'something borrowed' had been Jim from Lee so he could walk her down the aisle.

His investigation into what happened to Thomas and Martha Wayne had led to where they were today. Were it not for him making her one of his street contacts and annoying her enough to want to be a good person every once in a while, she wouldn't be Selina Kyle-Wayne. Plus, walking down the aisle by herself didn't just feel right and far be it from her to pass up on an opportunity to tease Gordon in the future.

He had taken to the task with military precision while crying the whole time. It was sweet but she wouldn't be her if she didn't bust his balls about it. Hell, he would be worried if she didn't...

"Are you okay?"

"Yep. Are you okay?"

"I'm almost as amazing as you."

"...quit being sappy and help me cut this cake, douchebag. I'm hungry."

The members of the press that were present had their cameras working overtime but only Alfred and Barbara could get the best footage. As soon as Selina stepped into Siren's for her owed drink, the blonde had bowled her over in a hug. Between her sobs, Selina heard her thanking Tabby for not letting the universe take her away too. Of all people to be her Guardian Demon (because there was no way that Tab had even glimpsed at the pearly gates...), Tabitha was perfect for the job. Other than black being Bruce's trademark, she had picked her wedding manicure with her fallen sister in mind, as well as her lip color.

Once she heard about the wedding, Barbara had declared that she would be the videographer. Alfred could film for the family but for the official video, she would take charge. For all its campiness, the commercial she put together for Siren's had done its job so Bruce hired her. Plus, giving her such an important job guaranteed that she wouldn't cause trouble, especially since Lee was in the wedding party.

Any romance between Jim and Barbara had been rightfully put to rest ages ago. However, Barbara would occasionally have the same attitude about him as a child who didn't want a toy anymore but didn't want anyone else playing with it either. Plus, the two women had their own issues outside of him. Whenever they interacted, there was always a risk of violence.

Pleasantly surprising everyone, the pair were getting along just fine. If one didn't know better, they would assume that the women were close friends, maybe even Besties.

Time healed most wounds.

Finding out that Lee had purposely gotten herself captured by the tunneling psychos so she could rescue the enslaved 30 children and 15 adults had given her tons of street cred. Couple that with her using her status as Queen of The Narrows to help people and not hurt anyone who didn't deserve it? It was best to squash any lingering Beef, if not just for business purposes.

The best part? Lee acted the same as she did as before it all happened.

The camera shutters and flashes went even faster as Selina happily accepted a forkful of cake. Bruce chuckled as she purposely smeared some frosting over the tip of his nose while feeding him. After cleaning up with a napkin, he passed her a square plate to fill and that was the signal for everyone to start eating, drinking, and being merry. It was a reception, after all. Speaking of that...

"Dancing's mandatory but there aren't gonna be any toasts, right?"

"No."

"Thank God."

"I like what you did with your bouquet."

"Mama Jo said that she didn't want cash but she never said that we couldn't pay another way. Throwing the bouquet is a dumb tradition, anyways. How did it even get started?"

"While a bride carrying flowers and certain herbs has been a tradition for centuries, tossing the bouquet was a way in 19th century England to distract the crowd from chasing her."

"Why the fuck were they doing that? Did she owe them money?"

They both giggled before he pressed a quick kiss to the back of her hand.

"Not usually. On her wedding day, the bride was seen as the luckiest person in the area. People would want to touch her or take pieces of her dress and hair to make charms. Whoever caught the bouquet was seen to be next in line to get married and it also served as a fertility blessing."

"That's weird but also kinda wholesome. Now, eat. You'll need the energy for later."

"Yes, dear."

"Shut up!"

/

"My husband's standing right behind us."

"Hush, you."

"My vows to him were literal poetry but you're still going for it? Wowww..."

"Stop."

"No can do. Blushing Bride or not, I still gotta meet my daily quota of shit talking and if I didn't bust your balls right now, you'd be worried that you're sending B off with a clone."

"...she's not wrong."

"Annoying, isn't it?"

Grinning, Selina stepped back from them and watched the pilot shake Bruce's hand before he went in to prepare for takeoff. Although she knew that she was far more likely to be killed in a car accident, watching Final Destination at the age of 9 hadn't been the best idea. However, Bruce himself did not hire incompetent people and Foxy had personally vouched for the plane's safety so she'd suck it up.

It was fucking hilarious that she was afraid to fly while having no fear of leaping between buildings or climbing suspension bridges. If she had to guess, it was more about the lack of control but again, she'd suck it up. Where Bruce went, she followed and vice versa.

Plus, getting out of Gotham was necessary for them to truly recover and rest.

They wouldn't stay away forever. They had too many people they loved to do so and regardless of the new beginning, at the end of the day? Gotham was Gotham. The players in the game changed constantly but the city's Ways were in its foundations. The GCPD were outnumbered 50 to 1 and outgunned. Good cops rarely lasted long in the city. They either joined the other side, quit before the end of their first day, or they were collateral damage during a Maniac of the Week's temper tantrum.

Now that Gordon was Commissioner and had the government by the balls, those statistics would certainly change but there would always be a need for something more, for someone... for people firmly on the side of good who could operate in the shadows, who could dwell in shades of gray to get what needed to get done faster.

Everyone had a role to play.

But for now? It was time for her and Bruce to leave. They needed to leave Gotham behind to rest, recover, and explore the world together. Plus, if they were really going to commit to protecting the city from eternal darkness or whatever the fuck, they needed to go through years of extensive training so they could do it right.

They couldn't do that locally.

Once Bruce was released, he joined her at the bottom of the staircase.

"Are you ready?"

"Yep."

Just before entering the jet, Selina waved before happily flipping their father figures off.

The warm evening breeze carried the sound of their laughter as the door shut behind her.

/

"...so much for joining the Mile High Club."

"You needed your rest."

"Obviously. You got to carry me over the threshold and get a half marathon in. Why the hell is this place so huge? Were your multi great-grandpas compensating for something?"

"Cat, you know better than anyone that there's nothing to compensate for."

"Just because you can fill a pussy like an eclair doesn't mean that they could."

"Selina!"

"Would you have preferred if I said split it like a peach, my darling husband?"

The images on the big screen were loud. Images of Gotham Before and After, heart wrenching clips from viral interviews of survivors, people tearfully reuniting with loved ones, exhausted yet smiling children finally being fed properly, trucks of rubble being cleared, a stone-faced Jim Gordon glaring at the Head Honcho as he spoke outside of the reclaimed City Hall...the decorated military man had a black eye and a split lip.

See, not only had Gordon said to his face that they all should have shown up sooner, he said it after falcon punching the son of a bitch in the bullpen. The punch had been a thing of beauty, something straight out of an Indiana Jones movie!

As the news broadcast kicked off, a large collage of government officials was put on display for the world to see. The End of the Fallen Bridges Crisis was the hottest topic and would be for months to come. Their faces were out there but it wasn't enough to just show them. As if on cue, the camera zoomed into the collage and the screen smoothly transitioned into a slideshow. Name, State, Political Party, and how their negligence/cowardice made things worse for everyone trapped in Gotham, each remaining on the screen for 10 seconds each.

"Their families don't deserve it."

"I'll have The Board release a statement. What happens afterwards isn't my responsibility."

The TV was turned off and Selina grinned as he scooped her up in a fireman's carry.

"Who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne?"

"You're not the only person who can change their Ways and mean it, Selina."

Changed Ways or not, Selina could feel the Restlessness bubbling under her skin. It needed to be dealt with. Revenge needed to be dished out along with Justice. Not today, not tomorrow, not even a year down the road but eventually. Playing the long game made victory sweeter and just because living well was the best revenge didn't mean it was the only one.

Since she had far too much to lose now, Selina wouldn't kill anyone outside of another survival situation but that didn't mean she was out of options, especially since Bruce would be on board when she read him in.

It wasn't just The Fallen Bridges. There were other catastrophes that had been mismanaged. Gotham was Gotham but Selina knew that the inquiries would uncover at least one Cabal who made tons of money from the constant chaos for decades if the investigators had the balls to dig deep enough. Hell, maybe they wouldn't have to dig at all. Two baker's dozen worth of Geneva Laws had been shattered and justice needed to be served. Nobody wanted to get into that sort of trouble, no matter how tough they claimed to be. There was going to be a race to get to the best PR teams, the best lawyers, the best places to live in Witness Protection...

After reversing their positions, Selina captured his mouth, smiling as his hands slid underneath her top. She had woken up still in her wedding dress sans shoes but waiting on the vanity was one of Bruce's cashmere sweaters. That was what he wanted to see her wearing and she smiled as she put it on. Although Bruce was the poster child for overthinking, there were times where he was simple.

Men loved it when their companions wore their clothes...and when they could take them off.

Sitting up, Selina rested her head on his shoulder, chuckling to herself as she loosened the buttons of his shirt. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, instead of an undershirt, her hand rested on the bare flesh where his heart pounded below. After the shirt was off, Selina gave him a light shove so his back was resting against the headboard. His hands spanned her bare hips and held on tightly, his gaze riveted on her as she shed the sweater. She opened her mouth to say something but Bruce's lips captured hers, making her slump against him. His hands wandered over her back, caressing and massaging until she began to purr.

Skin. She wanted more skin, more of his warmth against hers, more of everything!

When they broke for air, Bruce helpfully lifted his hips and they chuckled as he struggled to kick off his pants for a moment before rejoining their lips. Better. Much, much better. No more barriers, just skin and love and safety. Familiar lips, familiar hands, familiar and delicious scent...her man, her mate, her everything...

"Like this?", he murmured while lining them up.

"Yeah...my favorite...want you..."

All the breath left her lungs as her husband pulled her down to meet his firm upward thrust into her and she shuddered. Selina's senses were engulfed by him, her husband, her love, her fucking everything...

"You are divine... mon doux ange... (my sweet angel..)"

Her response was to nuzzle him before dipping her head to suck just beneath his collarbone. Bruce liked it when she left marks on him. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was part of his masochism, maybe it was because she was claiming him, giving him and the whole word proof that he was taken, wanted, needed, loved so fucking much that it hurt...

Selina cried out as he increased his pace and green tinted her vision as she peppered kisses to Bruce's jaw before nipping his earlobe. Her fingers bent and locked, her nails beginning to leave imprints in her mate's tender flesh. Not too hard, not too deep, she didn't want to hurt him in bad ways. He was Bruce, not an enemy to be dispatched or a toy to rip apart. He was her husband, her partner, her best friend, someone to be cherished, protected at all costs...

Selina kept her arms around him as her back hit the mattress and she shivered as his hot mouth found her nipples, moaning his appreciation. Closing her eyes, she let him his way with her, moving harder and faster, meeting him halfway. He felt so good, so fucking good, perfect, her favorite, her only...

"Look at me."

She whimpered.

"Look at me."

She moaned.

"Look at me!"

She obeyed and immediately fell over the edge, taking him with her. Pulling him down, she kissed him deeply, nipping and sucking at his lower lip. She could feel his smile and she smiled back, cupping his face. Bruce's full weight rested on her and she relished it. He was warm and smelled delicious, both of himself and their lovemaking. Despite the sunlight streaming through the balcony doors, a bone deep drowsiness had her sinking deeper into the mattress and pillows. After yawning, Selina helped him pull the bedding over their cooling bodies and Bruce pressed soft kisses to the beauty marks on her chest. She pecked his brow and squeezed him.

"Get some sleep, B."

"Are you sure? It's our honeymoon and..."

"Shhh...we have all day and I'll be here when you wake up. I'll be here for as long you need me."

"...promise?"

"I promise. Sleep, baby. I got you."

[littebugbird]

Sooo….we need to talk about the hate that PGBC has gotten in the last 8-9 years to this day

I have deviantart (been there for a year) and I seen some dumb and trashy hate art, fill-in memes, etc that’s cringe! (Besides some that are just for fun but not the hate art.) And yes I sawn some REALLY BAD Pig Goat Banana Cricket hate fill-in memes. (most of them are the “my top 10 worst cartoons” and/or “Drake memes”) Which gets me so annoyed, so made this.

(I’m not sorry haters!)

Banana: “We do note care about your hate! So go away!”

Me: “Yeah tell em!” (Ask box will be open tomorrow at 11)

[internet-siren]

Did You Forget About Reply Girls? Let’s Talk About MeganSpeaks 👀

Okay, seriously, did you forget about the early YouTube mess that was the reply girl phenomenon? Let’s go back, way back, to when YouTube was still wild and unregulated, before all the algorithm changes and content crackdown. MeganSpeaks, aka Chrissie L. Barmore, was one of the OGs who helped popularize this chaotic trend of “reply girls” in the early 2010s. If you’re too young to remember, let me take you through the drama. It’s iconic, and in the most chaotic way possible.

The Rise of MeganSpeaks 🌟

Megan didn’t just jump on YouTube and post a few reaction videos. No, she knew the algorithm very well. Her content was strategically designed to exploit the YouTube system to maximum effect. She started posting reaction videos to viral content (Epic Meal Time, College Humor, Your Favorite Martian), but here’s the kicker: her video titles and thumbnails were clickbait at its finest. Imagine provocative thumbnails—we’re talking close-ups of her cleavage with arrows pointing directly at it—all designed to get you to click. And oh, it worked. Big time.

Her videos were trashy (no shame, I love a little trashy content, but this was next level). Megan’s daily uploads were full of quick commentary, often in revealing outfits. And it wasn’t just the content; it was the strategy behind it that made her a household name in the early days of YouTube. Every thumbnail, every title, every word was designed to attract attention. Sometimes it worked a little too well.

The Backlash 💥

But of course, when you make it to the top by manipulating the system, the backlash is inevitable. Megan didn’t just gain fans—she gained haters, and honestly, the hate came fast and hard. People started accusing her of everything from view manipulation to misleading content. Her video thumbnails were a huge issue; some viewers even flagged her content for violating YouTube’s guidelines on misleading imagery. But for a long time? YouTube did nothing about it. They let it slide, and Megan kept posting. The more views, the more money. Rumor has it, she was making around $80,000 from all of this.

Megan’s whole persona was built on fighting back against criticism in the most obnoxious way possible. She’d lash out at anyone who dared criticize her, leaving snarky comments and dismissing her haters with insults like “LOSER” and “Get a life!” like the queen of denial that she was. People began mocking her responses, turning them into memes. Her angry comments? Internet gold. “You fail!” “YouTube loves my business!” became some of the most iconic quotes of the era, often accompanied by screenshots and gifs. People were here for the drama, even if they weren’t here for the content.

The Scandal 🔥

Then, oh boy, things got messy. Megan wasn’t just manipulating views with her thumbnails—allegedly, she and her husband LifeInATent (LIAT) were botting their videos. Yeah, you read that right. It’s claimed that they used bots to inflate their view counts, making it look like their videos were far more popular than they actually were. And to make matters even crazier, they were accused of using bots to flag videos critical of them.

The Daily Dot even published an investigation about the whole thing, diving into leaked chat logs where LIAT apparently bragged about paying $920 for 540,000 fake views. A little fishy, right? Naturally, when the article dropped, LIAT lost it. He threatened to sue, called his "manager" in (which no one believed), and became a meme for being one of the most cringe internet dads on the planet. Megan, meanwhile, played the victim card by crying cyberbullying, which—honestly—was a bit too rich considering she’d been bullying others with threats and harassment for months. 🤡

Memeification of Megan and the Decline 🐸

But here’s the best part: Megan’s downfall was slow, but oh so spectacular. As the backlash grew, more YouTubers and internet personalities started pushing back. You had folks like HappyCabbie and OneyNG calling out the shady tactics, and soon enough, YouTube itself started cracking down. Thumbnails were being regulated, and Megan’s partnership with YouTube was finally terminated. Karma?

She vanished from her old channel, MeganSpeaks, and tried to rebrand under a new name, MeganSpeaksMore, but the internet didn’t forget. She was still under fire for her botting, harassment, and manipulation. Her reputation was cemented as one of the most divisive figures in YouTube history. She might’ve thought she was just a savvy content creator, but in reality? She was part of one of the earliest instances of blatant platform abuse.

Legacy 🌐

In the end, Megan and LIAT’s legacy is basically a cautionary tale about the dangers of exploiting a platform for views, and how toxic internet behavior can come back to bite you. They became internet villains, but in the best way possible—because they were so extra, so unhinged, that they became lolcows for all the wrong reasons. Their memes, their rants, their over-the-top meltdowns are still legendary in internet history.

Megan and LIAT are just another example of how not to do social media, and honestly, they’ve left a legacy that will live forever on the darker corners of the internet. Every time someone complains about a clickbait YouTube video, you can bet that someone will bring up the original reply girl.

So yeah, maybe we did forget about reply girls, but their impact is still felt today. And let’s be real—if you were on the internet during that time, you definitely remember MeganSpeaks.

[kavrillia]

I doubt Zelda and Brialla have ever shared a meme square before. Zelda's "bad taste" involves gaudy makeup and trashy tabloids. Brialla's is murder. So...yeah.

The badness of Zalani's tastes is relative, but it would be bad for her reputation if everyone knew what a nerd she is, deep down.

Hazervia's just a private person in general.

Sicara and Xorax made me giggle, but spoilers.

[olderthannetfic]

Ahaha. Yeah, true, nothing new under the sun.

I don't think there's that strong of a connection between this and the earliest kink meme prompts. They really don't have most of the stuff that got stuck onto the trope later. They're more like Dog Dick Hot Amirite???

But yes, things quickly evolved in standard biology made them do it trashy novel directions.

Tbh I don't really think people crying about hets "stealing" omegaverse as an idea have any real leg to stand on considering how much of omegaverse is "stealing" tropes from the hets lol

Like people joke about how omegaverse is just a way to get your fav male character to experience misogyny for a reason, a lot of omegaverse is just a thinly veiled excuse to have your gay ships go through typical "het" storylines like pregnancy and gendered power dynamics

Don't get me wrong, I like omegaverse and fully understand why some people would prefer the layer of abstraction from reality it offers to explore those concepts, and I do understand feeling miffed when someone you consider part of a priviledged groups uses tropes built by the unprivileged, but I think it's tremendously stupid to cry about stolen tropes when the argument could be made that omegaverse is made up of tropes stolen from the hets to begin with 🤷

Not to mention that ideas are going to propogate and you don't really have the right or ability to control who it reaches lol

--

Omegaverse started from someone wanting to see a guy with a dog dick make some other dude his bitch.

It's a stack of porn tropes in a trench coat, regardless of what gendered stuff is in there.

[casual-eumetazoa]

we need a new tumblr subculture called cringecore which is just about doing harmless fun things unapologetically and with disproportionate amounts of enthusiasm and mutual support

[fbfh]

thalia + bff reader

wc: ~750

pairing: thalia grace + fem (they/them) bff reader

requested: fuck yeah!!! <3

warnings: affectionate bullying of jason, one jason x brick mention, one sex joke, general crackheadery

a/n: thalia is the blueprint for cool punk friend <3

If you are Thalia Grace's best friend

Which you are

Congratulations!! You officially have the coolest best friend ever

Helping her dye her hair has been a longstanding tradition between you

Usually accompanied with trashy reality tv

The amount of times you've helped her dye the back of her head while she does the front and the Steve Wilkos show plays in the background is more than either of you could count

Honestly I'm almost getting Max and Chloe from life is strange vibes

Also

Being bffs with Thalia means you officially have scary dog privileges

Anytime someone tries to talk to you in public when you don't want them to

Thalia sends them the most intimidating look ever

Suddenly they remember they had to pick up some dry cleaning ttyl! 🏃

So yeah she's the best

You have vicarious bullying rights over Jason now too

Sometimes you'll just pass by him and be like hey Thalia asked me to tell you that she's going to be late

Jason: okay thank-

Also that you're a fuckin nerd

Jason:... you.

Piper can't help but giggle

Also messing with Percy together is one of your many favorite pastimes

At one point

You're not really sure how it came up

But the question of if Percy or Jason would be a better hypothetical boyfriend had come up

They asked you to be the tie breaker

Percy: who would be a better boyfriend, me or Jason?

"…"

Percy: like if you had to choose

You share an icked out look with Thalia

You finally answer

"If I had to choose? Probably the brick that hit Jason in the head that one time."

Thalia BUSTS out laughing and Jason gives you an incredulous look, suppressing a laugh of his own

Jason: you are NEVER going to let me live that down are you

You and Thalia at the same time: nope <3

Literally Thalia is the most fun to be around

She's like the best friend that you could possibly have

And if anyone asked her she’d say the exact same thing about you

Literally you have so many inside jokes you can't keep track

Everything reminds you of something funny

Even the most innocuous thing

Someone will be like hey do you want to spar after lunch and you just bust out laughing

You pull it together and agree

As you walk off one of you is like "it's better than sparring after linner" and you start laughing again

Your texts are SO embarrassing to open in public

Like you'll be sending the weirdest memes and reaction pics

You get a text from her and it's just an attached image

You know immediately you can’t open that until you’re somewhere more private

When you finally open it, lo and behold it’s a motivational poster that says “pick yourself up by the boot straps <3”

With a picture of doc martins with dildos on them

Boot

Strap

You bust out laughing

Def the type to have regular sleepovers too

Like yall just get so bored without each other

A lot of these sleepovers lead to impulsive hair dying

Midnight snack runs

Laying on the ground staring at the ceiling talking about whatever bizarre deep random shit crosses your minds

You know that garfield comic about sitting here and thinking deep thoughts

This one

You quote that on a regular basis

Oh and this girl is sO ready to throw hands on your behalf

Ik I mentioned this earlier

But for real

Yall are each others ride or die

And honestly she’s an amazing bff!!!!!

You guys talk about everything

Once she asked if you’d still love her if she were a worm

You’re like I loved you when you were a tree so yeah

Worm is a huge step up

She’s like yeah

Yeah worm is a huge step up

At one point you made matching friendship bracelets

Hers has little punk spikes on it to match her other bracelets aww! <3

And tbh post camp thalia is giving platonic life partner vibes

You’ll probably get an apartment together and start your young adult coming of age sitcom together

One of you will get a job at a bar and make some wacky friends

You’ll have to deal with your annoying neighbors

You and Thalia, taking on the big city!

Hilarious anecdotes ensue

I’d watch the shit out of that tbh

[dadsbongos]

trashy dad

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Shota Aizawa/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: references (2) to un*s ann*s, one (1) use of (y/n), fem pronouns Summary: Shota trying to support his YouTuber daughter :) cuz social media aus own me Word Count: 2.1K ~~~

"Hey, gamers," you grin at the camera before tossing an arm over your father's shoulders, "My dad's in town and as you can see," you hesitated slightly before turning to face your father, "Dad's not super into taking care of himself. So, I figured what's better than doing a Q&A together while I do his makeup?"

"Hitoshi just did a 'what I eat in a day', didn't he?" Shota quirked a brow, already reaching back to tie up his messy, tangled hair.

"Spoilers!" you quietly whine as you open your phone, "He still has to edit it, silly man. We're gonna have to brush out your hair later, by the way."

Shota's eyes widened, "We? I thought this was your idea and video, (Y/n)."

"No," you huff, scrolling through a few of the questions from fans, "I mean it was but your hair is so… Okay, first question is from - oh my God the names - shrekslongtoe, what was my first word?"

"Are you gonna start putting makeup on me or just sit there?" Shota scratched at his nose before snickering, "That wasn't your first word. Your first word was 'Dada' and it drove Hizashi insane."

"Hizashi is my other dad, by the way," you lean over to grab your makeup bag, "'Toshi and I call him papa. Oooh, oh no," you looked up to Shota, "I don't have your shade, you're gonna look weird."

"I don't really care," the man shrugged, watching as you took out a pink beauty blender, "That looks like a buttplug."

"Don't say that!" your eyes were wide at his words while you got out your foundation, "Youtube doesn't like that."

"Whoops," he deadpanned, "Next question."

"Shit, right."

"Language."

"Japanese," you murmur, going to the next reply, "yoonbumskneecap asks, 'Did you believe in me-’ they said my name but you know, ‘and Hitoshi when they decided to become Youtubers?' And 'in 'Toshi's case - drop out of college to become a professional clout man.'"

"To be honest," Shota closed his eyes, only in slight fear, as you began pressing the foundation into his skin, "I was really worried about Hitoshi, I didn't know if he'd stay as big as he was because he's a lot like me, in the sense that people tend to not like us for our bluntness. So I was worried he'd be a meme for like a month and then people would drop him, but thankfully I was proved wrong," he opened his eyes when he felt you pull away and begin rooting through your bag once again, "With you, I was less worried because you're more like 'Zashi, i.e extremely likable, and you were kind of getting a boost from appearances on Hitoshi's channel. I still worry because the internet is a fickle mistress but I'm not staying up at night about it."

Pulling out a dark eyebrow pencil, you grin at your father, "Aww, that was kinda sweet. Not really but kind of."

"What I'm here for," Shota's eyes followed your hand as you uncapped the pencil and reached up, beginning to mark at his eyebrows, "I'm gonna read the next question while you kill my eyebrows."

"I'm not killing them!" you giggled, "But unlike Papa, you already have pretty thick, full eyebrows so I won't be here long."

"Good," he muttered before furrowing his brows in confusion, ignoring your frustrated groan, "who is daddysero and why is he asking if you pissed today?"

"What?!" you pull your dad's hand back to see what he was looking at, instantly calming down when you saw he was still on Twitter, "Oh, that's just Sero, he asks me that every time I tweet. I thought you went to my Instagram DMs," at Shota's questioning stare you grinned, "Mama's got simps in her DMs."

"Don't ever call yourself 'Mama' in my presence ever again," Shota shook his head, once again ignoring your annoyance, "papichulo46290 wants to know my favorite memory of you."

"If you mix me up with 'Toshi, I'll be so pissed," you return the eyebrow pencil to your bag as Shota speaks.

"I won't... probably," he shrugs while you root through your bag, "So, Hizashi had taken Hitoshi out for ice cream because of - has he mentioned his middle school trauma?" at your nod, he continues, "Hitoshi was having a bad day from middle school, shocking, so you and I were left home alone together. You were probably seven and you really wanted to paint my nails and I let you. You..." he shook his head, snickering, "you fucked them up. So bad. But you were so happy to just be spending time with me- "

"Keep talking, but I'm gonna do your eyeshadow," you lean back in, swishing your brush over a navy blue, almost black shade, "Just so you guys know, Dad wanted to look like shit, don't unsubscribe cuz this is gonna come out bad."

"It won't be too bad, you're talented," Shota did his best to remain still, "But overall, you were just so adorable and it didn't even matter that the smudged nails got me teased in the teacher's lounge the next day. It all came off after like a week because it was shitty polish but you get the idea."

"Aww, I didn't know you kept it on, that's so sweet," you fall back briefly to inspect your work, "It's not awful but I'm only posting this because you're my dad."

"Of course, I did," Shota continued scrolling through the questions, "A lot of people are asking if you mean Dad or Daddy, and a lot more people are asking for pictures of your feet, you should block them all."

"Yeah, I got sickos in my replies too, just gotta scroll past em'."

"Disgusting..." Shota grumbled as you moved to his other eye, "Is 'electrodick' Kaminari, perchance?"

"Unfortunately."

"Gross, he asks if you had an 'I'm not like other girls' phase," Shota hummed quietly in thought, "Maybe when you were eight for like a month, but that's probably because except for Nemuri you didn't have any women in your life. Thankfully you moved on from that pretty quickly."

"Oh yeah, that was a gross, weird time. You and Papa also weren’t shitty people so I didn’t have a lot of misogynist influence."

"I like to think we did a good job," Shota sighed, finally moving back into his slouching position when you pulled away completely, "Is 'explosionmurder' Bakugou?"

"You know it."

"Okay well, he's asking if you plan on fucking up your bronzing again?" he thinks for a moment, “Was that from when you looked kinda copper-ish in a video?

"Oh my God, that was one time, Bakugou!" you shout and shake your brush at the camera, "One time!"

"I don't even know what blending is so you're doing better than I am."

"God, how are we related?"

Without hesitation, Shota replied, "Surrogate. Which answers summerlongsock's question."

"Nice," you chuckle, setting the brush back in your bag, "You probably won't need too much bronze or countour since you're going for bad," you immediately turn to the camera, "And Bakugou isn't gonna say a fucking word about it!"

"Is eyeliner next? And if so, I would enjoy a nice wing," Shota muttered, looking through the remaining questions, "Hitoshi asks why I haven't done a video with him yet."

You nod along while uncapping the liner, "I'm curious about that too. I thought my first video with a parent would be with Papa. I was gonna say family but..." you shrug, "Hitoshi was my first video and then Eri came on."

"He never asked," Shota closed both of his eyes, allowing you to move his head around as you pleased, "You just texted me the video idea and we set it up while I was in town. If Hitoshi wants a video so bad he should come up with an idea."

"Jeez, don't bully the poor boy," you laughed quietly, carefully applying more eyeliner to your father's left lid, "We should all do a video together. I think it'd be fun."

"Come up with an idea," he replied flatly before opening his eyes, "davinky wants to know when you got into makeup. Probably after thirteen, sometime."

"Yeah, I got my first real eyeshadow at like fourteen and then you guys just enabled my love of makeup after that."

"Well, the thing with that was, Hizashi and I didn't want you growing up thinking you had to wear makeup for any reason," Shota opened his eyes once he felt you back away, blinking a few times, "So we waited till you were more mature because giving makeup to a six-year-old is weird."

Capping your eyeliner, you traded it out for mascara, "Yeah, even little play kits are a bit ehhh. Don't close your eyes, but look down."

Following instruction, Shota took the opportunity to read off another question, "I can't see the name but someone's asking what we did together for fun. While you were a kid."

Humming quietly in thought, you move from one eye to the other, "We used to go to diners a lot. Those late-night diner trips, remember?"

"Oh yeah, you were such a little demon about bedtime. I had to take you to this little place for scrambled eggs or some shit and you'd fall asleep on the way back home."

Putting away your mascara, you reach out for your hairbrush before beginning to pull out the hair tie in Shota's hair, "Mina wanted me to ask what videos you show people when they ask what your kids do for a living."

"For Hitoshi, the one where he and Kaminari made Bakugou breakfast with sex toys. For you, the one where you turn yourself into Mina's little character - with the pink skin," Shota winced slightly at the tug of your hairbrush, "And Eri's a teacher so that information comes first since it's the least strange."

As you fussed with his tangled nest of hair, you read another question over Shota's shoulder, "When did you know you loved me? Like after adopting me."

"Not too long after the adoption was finalized actually," Shota grumbled as the brush made its final courses through his hair, "You've always been a really great kid. I don't know when I 'realized' but it was definitely around the time you were born, maybe like the day after."

"That's pretty good considering I was a stranger," you giggled, brushing out the final knots in his dark hair, "A baby stranger."

"Hmm," Shota hummed in response, "You almost done?"

Refraining from rolling your eyes, you fluffed Shota's now smooth and detangled hair around his shoulders with a small smile, "I'm done. Your hair is so pretty when it's brushed out."

"I know," the man muttered, handing your phone back, "Wanna do one more question and then sign off?"

"Yeah," you scroll through some of the questions, "I want it to be the best question that's ever been asked."

"Ask your own, you're great at that."

You shook your head with furrowed brows at his comment, "Is that a compliment?"

"It was meant to be."

"Thanks, but no need, I've found one. Midoriya wants to know if raising two attention whores was hard. He didn't say ‘attention whores’ because he doesn't swear but that's the vibe."

"What's Midoriya's at?" Shota asked.

"SmallMight."

"Of course," the man grumbled, closing his eyes to think, "You two were honestly pretty easy to raise. Not a whole lot of fits compared to what I've heard other parents talk about. You both liked to talk a lot to each other, and, of course, to Hizashi and me. Not terribly difficult at all."

"Aww, I'm glad we didn't make you pull your hair out," you grin.

"Oh, you still did. Absolutely."

"Nice," you giggle before turning off your phone and facing the camera, "Okay guys, well, I hope you don't clown on me as much as usual because if you do, my dad will... I don't know… kick your ass."

"Exactly," Shota nodded, a horrific smile on his face, "I'll beam right into your living room."

"Hopefully you guys come back next week where I'll..." floundering for an answer, you turn to your dad as if he’d give you ideas, "Create wings to do it better than Icarus ever could."

Giving a singular stiff nod, Shota looked dead at the camera, "I'd watch it."

"You heard it from the main man himself, peeps," you waved to the camera, Shota copying the motion, “Bye!”

"If there's one comment about my eyebags, I'm never coming on your channel again," Shota lied as you leaned over to stop recording.

"They're gonna love you, I'm sure," you assure your father, "Wanna see how I edit?"

"God no, Hitoshi showed me how long it takes to edit his videos, it looks like hell."

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 4

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

_______________________________________

You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here and chapter 3 here

Read this fic on AO3

_______________________________________

The following week, Azriel read Elain’s messages too many times to admit. He had answered her that “meat banjo” was, indeed, a vile word, and after that, they hadn’t really talked or texted.

He had saved her number as “Elain”, which had felt weirdly private. As if they were friends, which they were not. He was just her friendly helper, and she was his remedy for nightmares.

However, even though they didn’t know each other, Azriel felt an odd sensation in his chest when he thought about her. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he was missing her, which was absurd. But the tight little knot in his chest felt very much like longing. He tried to tell himself that this was weird and stupid. He knew that he had a crush on her (even though he hated to admit it), but he could also see that it was a pointless crush. She was an internet sensation, he was a boring IT guy. She was light and happiness and flowers, he was dark and brooding. She made people smile, he made people uncomfortable. And then there was the practical side of things. They had met on the internet. She probably lived on the other side of the country. Hell, she could even live in a different country for all he knew. She might have a partner already - it’s not like he asked. And, last but not least, she probably didn’t have a crush on him.

Before talking to her on the phone, he had just thought that she was a pretty girl that deserved kindness. But after their phone call, he had definitely developed a crush. Which was another reason why he hadn’t texted her. He didn’t want to bother her and he didn’t want to have this crush. He wanted to stop feeling like this for a girl he would never see in real life. Yet, every night before bed, he found himself on her youtube page, watching one of her many videos.

She uploaded a new video to Youtube every Friday, so when Friday came around, Azriel was itching to get home so he could go to sleep (he told himself that he was looking forward to sleeping and not to seeing her face).

However, he had an entire workday to get through first. The office was mostly an open landscape and Azriel’s desk was next to Cassian’s. The only person with his own office was Rhysand, which was fair since he was the owner of the company. At two in the afternoon, Rhys poked his head out of his office.

“You guys are still coming for dinner this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” Azriel and Cassian answered in unison.

“I told Feyre that I would help her with the food,” Azriel continued.

Rhys looked like he was going to kiss Azriel. “Oh, god. Thank you, man. I was scared that we would have to repeat the Christmas dinner,” he said and shuddered.

Feyre hated to cook and Rhys did most of the cooking at home, but for some inexplicable reason, she always wanted to cook for holidays or family dinners. To everyone’s dismay. Christmas had been no exception. She had burned the turkey, added salt instead of sugar to the dessert and somehow managed to buy the wrong berries for her cranberry sauce. Luckily, Rhys had been prepared and bought a few frozen pizzas and some ice cream, so the day wasn’t that much of a disaster, but nobody wanted to brave Feyre’s cooking again.

“Why don’t you just cook?” Cassian asked without looking up from his screen.

“You know that she kicks me out if I so much as go near the kitchen when we have these family dinners. And since she started the hormone treatment, she has been a bit bitchy when she gets mad, so I’ll just do whatever she says.”

Azriel chuckled. He could tell from Rhysand’s tone that Feyre had been more than “a bit” bitchy.

“I don’t understand why she lets Azriel help, though…”

“Maybe because she knows that I’ll tell her to sit down with a glass of wine and a magazine, and then she can take all of the credit for the food?”

“Fair enough.” Rhys shrugged. “Just burn the food a little bit, or it won’t be believable.”

Cassian snorted. “No one would believe that something edible was made by your wife. Sorry.”

“She does make a great green smoothie, though,” Rhys grinned and held up his glass.

Azriel and Cassian looked at each other and had to bite their tongues to keep from laughing. The smoothie looked vile and smelled even worse.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Rhys went back to his office for an important phone call. “See you on Saturday,” he reminded them before closing the door.

Azriel and Cassian worked in silence for the remainder of the day.

When Azriel came home that evening, he made a quick pasta carbonara to eat in front of the TV. He was re-watching New Girl. It was his comfort show and absolutely nobody knew that he watched it (and had watched it multiple times). He would take that information with him to the grave. But it was fun and cute and sometimes he liked to imagine his friends as characters in the show. Cassian was probably Schmidt, because Nesta was one hundred percent Cece. Feyre was Jess, which meant that Rhys was Nick. And then there was Azriel. He wanted to say that he was a very cool character, but most characters on this show weren’t cool, and also, he was definitely Winston. Alone with a cat - sounds about right , Azriel thought to himself as he finished his bowl of pasta.

When the episode ended he just waited for the next to start. He didn’t have any plans for the night and nowhere to be. His phone vibrated where he had left it on the kitchen counter. He ignored it, feeling too lazy to get up. But then it vibrated again. With a sigh, he got up. He expected to see a text from Mor telling him to bring wine tomorrow, or maybe a strange meme from Cassian. What he didn’t expect was to see Elain’s name on his screen.

He could feel his heart in his throat as he read her messages.

Elain Hey, Shadowsinger. I’m uploading a new video soon. You should watch it!

Elain I hope that message didn’t sound creepy? I just meant that I think you might like it.

Azriel’s hands were sweaty.

Azriel You didn’t sound creepy at all. Of course, I’ll watch your video. May I ask what I can expect from it?

Just seconds later, Elain answered.

Elain You can ask, but I might not tell ;)

Azriel Should I be worried?

Elain Haha, no! I think it turned out great. You were my inspiration :)

Azriel could feel himself blush. He had never been someone’s inspiration before.

Azriel So, I’m your muse? ;)

Oh god, was that too flirty? Was the winky-face too much? He wished that he could take back the message.

Elain For tonight, yes!

Azriel stared at his phone, unsure of what to answer. Luckily, Elain wrote to him again.

Elain What are you doing tonight?

Azriel Nothing. Just eating pasta and watching TV. How about you?

Elain That sounds amazing. I have been editing this video for hours so I’m just tired and cranky, haha. I have just ordered a pizza and I think I’ll just eat it in bed as soon as this video has finished uploading. What did you watch?

Azriel If I told you, I would have to kill you.

Elain Oh, intriguing! Is it trashy drama? I bet it’s Grey’s anatomy! Or maybe�� Love Island?

Azriel stared at his phone. Did she really think that he would watch something like Love Island?

Azriel I watched New Girl, okay. Don’t tell anyone.

Elain Your secret is safe with me! Also, I love New Girl! Especially Winston!

It felt as if someone was squeezing Azriel’s heart.

Azriel Really? Which character would you be?

Elain My pizza is here so I am going to put all of my electronics in a different room and eat my pizza while reading a good book. It was great talking to you, Azriel! Please tell me what you thought of the video when you have watched it.

Elain Oh, and I would probably be Winston’s cat. lol

Azriel almost dropped his phone. If he had to be alone with a cat for the rest of his life, he would definitely want Elain to be his cat , he thought to himself. Which was a weird thing to think about someone you didn’t know. Azriel dropped his head to his kitchen counter and took a deep breath before replying.

Azriel It was great talking to you too, Elain. Enjoy your dinner and your book :)

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Azriel was going to be thinking about her for the rest of the night anyway.

30 minutes later, he got a notification telling him that Flower Girl ASMR had uploaded a new video. The video was called “ASMR for IT-guys”, which made him chuckle. He clicked the video and Elain’s beautiful face filled his screen again.

“Hello, my lovelies, lovelies, lovelies,” she whispered in her microphone. “This week’s video will be a bit different,” she continued, slowly moving her hands in front of the camera. “This video was inspired by my friend who recently helped me with some computer-related issues, issues, issues.”

Azriel loved it when she repeated words like that. And he liked that he somehow was a part of this video. It was something that connected them. Azriel paused the video and got into bed, knowing fully well that he would probably fall asleep soon if he kept watching this.

He pressed play again. “So, today, I thought that we would try a few computer-related triggers. I have a keyboard here,” she said and started typing on a keyboard that was out of view. “I thought that I would say a few trigger words while typing them.”

She smiled at the camera and pressed a few more keys. “I just wrote my friend’s name, but you won’t get to know who he is. But you know who you are. Thank you for your help!”

Azriel felt all warm inside.

She continued the video. “The first trigger word is IP address ”. Azriel laughed as she repeated the word multiple times while typing quickly.

“And then we have, laptop, laptop, laptop,” she continued, and Azriel felt shivers go down his spine when she popped the p’s.

Azriel had never thought that he would fall asleep to someone whispering “HTML coding” in his ears, but here he was. Relaxed and ready to sleep.

All thanks to Flower Girl ASMR.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

The next day, Azriel texted Elain that he had loved the video. He waited for hours, but no reply came. Maybe she just wanted to repay me for helping her? Azriel thought. Maybe she would stop talking to him now that he had seen the video.

The thought of never talking to Elain again made him feel a new kind of ache in his chest. An ache he didn’t want to feel. This stupid crush needs to end, he muttered to himself as he started to scrub his kitchen counter. He tried to ignore the feeling by keeping busy. He cleaned his apartment and did some laundry before heading over to his friends’ house.

Rhys greeted him by the door and ushered him inside.

“She started cooking like 15 minutes ago, please save whatever can be saved,” he whispered to Azriel. Azriel chuckled and made his way to the kitchen. On the way there, he passed the living room and stopped to greet his friends. He saw most of them on a daily basis because of work, but he was still happy to see them. Cassian and his fiancée Nesta sat close together on one of the green velvet couches. On the opposite couch sat Mor and Amren. Mor was one of the journalists at Velaris News, and Amren was an editor. They had known each other for years. Amren and Rhys had studied together at university, and Mor was Rhysand’s cousin. Once upon a time, Azriel had a crush on Mor. One night after one too many glasses at Rita’s he confessed his feelings to her and she had looked horrified. He had expected her to tell him that she didn’t fancy him and leave it at that, but instead, she had blurted “I like girls!”

Azriel was the first person she ever came out to, and he had felt honored. He also knew now that they wouldn’t have worked out together in the long run (even if Mor had been straight). They were just too different. She was energetic and outgoing and fun, he needed peace and quiet. But she was still one of his very best friends.

Amren on the other hand, he didn’t know as well. She had always been very private, but she was damn good at her job.

“Where’s Varian tonight?” Azriel asked Amren, trying to make small talk.

“How should I know?” she answered quickly. “I’m not his mother.”

Cassian stared at her. “But you are his girlfriend?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like to label things.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. Amren had lived with Varian for the past two years, but she was still reluctant to tell anyone about their relationship.

Azriel made his way into the kitchen, and from what he could tell, he made it just in time.

“What are you making, Feyre?” he asked, because truthfully, he couldn’t tell.

Feyre turned around quickly as if he had startled her. “Oh, hi Az,” she said and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

Something was burning.

“I was trying to make lamb chops with glazed carrots, roasted potatoes, and salsa verde, but…” she gestured to the stove, which looked like a disaster.

Azriel chuckled. “That’s ambitious.” He lifted the lid from one of the pots and could clearly see that she had overcooked the lamb 10 minutes ago. Also, why had she made them in a pot, and not a frying pan? It would be inedible.

The potatoes were still in the sink, unpeeled.

She gave him a strained smile. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” Azriel put the grocery bag he had brought with him on the kitchen island. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” She sounded desperate.

“Please, for the love of god, let Rhys cook when we come over. You really don’t have to show off. You are good at many things, Feyre. But cooking is unfortunately not one of them.”

She nodded. “I know,” she sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island and buried her face in her hand. “I just...I need to be able to cook when I become a mother.”

Azriel took her hand in his. “You really don’t. Nobody expect fathers to be good at cooking, so why should every mother be good at it? Honestly, just let Rhys cook while you play with the kids.”

She smiled at him. “That actually sounds amazing,” she sighed.

“Right?”

Azriel started to pull out some ingredients from the bag on the kitchen island. He held up the tomatoes and the spaghetti, “How about some pasta arrabbiata with burrata?”

“Sounds fancy.”

He shrugged. “Everything sounds fancier in a different language. It’s just pasta with a spicy tomato sauce, and burrata on top.”

“Whatever you make will probably be better than that mess,” she said and glanced towards the stove. Azriel couldn’t disagree.

“Probably,” he laughed and got to work. Azriel placed all the pots and pans in the sink and started chopping the vegetables for the sauce, and in just 30 minutes, dinner was served.

“You are my hero,” Feyre said and kissed his cheek as she carried the big bowl of pasta to the dining room.

Everyone had already gathered around the table, wine glasses in hand. As Azriel sat down, Mor poured him some wine.

“This looks amazing,” Nesta said and Cassian nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, Az helped a little,” Feyre said and winked at Azriel.

“Just a bit,” Azriel said and took a sip of wine.

The conversation (and wine) flowed freely, as it always did. Cassian and Nesta told them about their wedding plans, Mor gushed about Emerie, a girl she was dating, and Feyre told them about life as a high school art teacher. Azriel would never understand how anyone could choose to spend their days with teenagers, but Feyre loved it.

After two bottles of wine, Nesta and Mor were in an argument about which animal was the cutest.

“No, I am telling you, Sloths are cuter than any animal ever,” Mor exclaimed. “Have you seen their dopey little faces?”

“Sloths? Really?” Nesta looked at her as if she had suggested that the sky was green. “Red pandas are way cuter! They are cute and cuddly, Sloths just look like every single stoner I went to high school with.”

They had been at it for 10 minutes, which Azriel found to be quite impressive.

“Can you both just shut up?” Amren gritted out. “The cutest animals are koalas. They’re even cute when they fight. I am right, you are wrong. Please stop this meaningless discussion before I die from boredom.”

Nesta and Mor looked at Amren, and then at each other.

“We obviously have to see Koalas fight if you want us to end this conversation,” Mor said.

Nesta nodded. “Obviously. Give me your phone, Az,” she said and reached for his phone.

“Why do you need my phone?”

“Because mine is dead and yours is right there on the table. Also, your screen is big and we need to watch this in full HD, for obvious reasons.”

Azriel huffed a laugh, unlocked his phone, and handed it to Nesta.

She clicked the Youtube app, and then her face fell. She looked at Azriel as if he was an alien, and then she showed the phone to Cassian who looked at him with the same facial expression.

What the hell had they found?

He didn’t have anything weird on his phone. And he sure as hell didn’t watch porn on it.

“What?” Azriel asked, and Nesta turned the phone.

Fuck. The last video he had watched was still loaded on Youtube, and of course, it was Elain’s latest video.

“What the hell is this?” Nesta asked, almost looking angry.

Azriel didn’t understand why she found ASMR so wrong, but he desperately wanted to explain himself.

“Well, it’s ASMR. It’s kind of… well, it’s hard to explain, but it helps me sleep and– “

Nesta interrupted him before he could finish. “I know what ASMR is. I am wondering why you are watching Elain?”

Azriel stared at Nesta in shock. Did she also like Elain’s videos? But that wouldn’t explain the anger and confusion.

“Do you...know her?” Azriel asked.

“Yes, we went to university together. She’s our florist for the wedding. She was the florist at their wedding, too,” Nesta answered and gestured towards Rhys and Feyre. “Surely you have met her?”

Azriel could do nothing but shake his head in confusion. If he had ever met Elain, he would have known. You didn’t forget a face like hers.

“Please tell me you’re not stalking her like some creep, Az. Honestly, her last boyfriend was the world’s biggest asshat.”

“I’m not stalking her,” Azriel blurted out. “I’m just watching her videos to fall asleep, I promise. I– I didn’t know that you knew her.”

Nesta eyed him suspiciously. “So, is this just a coincidence?”

He nodded. “Weirder things have happened,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Nesta glanced at Cassian, and then back at Azriel. “Fine,” she said after a small eternity. “You would probably be cute together anyway. Sorry for insinuating that you would be a stalker.” She really did look remorseful. “That wasn’t fair. I’m just very protective of her. She’s the nicest girl, but she has horrendous taste in men.”

Azriel couldn’t answer, because his mind was still stuck on the fact that Nesta said that they would be cute together. He wanted to ask Nesta why she thought that. He kind of also wanted to ask her if Elain lived here in Velaris, and what her favorite movie was, and if she, by any chance, had a boyfriend. But he refrained, he didn’t want to sound like a stalker.

“So, what the fuck is ASMR?” Cassian asked. “Is it like porn?”

Before Azriel could answer, Rhys said “It’s like porn for your ears, I guess,” and then the entire table was laughing.

“Nesta,” Feyre said when the laughter had died down. “Does Elain still have that cute, little shop on River Street?”

“Mhm,” Nesta answered and took a sip of her wine.

Azriel could kiss Feyre for asking. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he could see her wink in his direction before raising her water glass to her lips.

Azriel walked home that evening with a million thoughts in his head.

He made a list in his head:

Elain lived in Velaris

River Street was literally a 10-minute walk from his home.

Nesta thought that they would be cute together

This meant nothing

She probably didn’t even like him back

Just because they were in the same city, it didn’t mean that they would ever meet.

This was still just a crush

And it was probably one-sided

She hadn’t even answered his latest text message.

And as if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Elain I’m sorry that I didn’t answer you earlier. I’ve been at work all day. We had a leak in the basement and everything was just chaos. I haven’t even checked my phone until now.

He mentally scratched number 9 from his list.

Azriel No worries! Did you fix the leak?

Azriel checked the time on his phone: 23.30

Had she dealt with this leak until now?

Elain Yes! But so many flowers were ruined (I’m a florist) and I had to remake a few arrangements for a wedding that’s coming up.

Elain I’m sorry. You probably don’t care. I’m happy that you liked the video :)

Azriel wanted to tell her that he did care. That everything she said was interesting to him. He would probably even find her Starbucks order fascinating. But that bordered on stalker behavior.

Azriel Again, no worries! Sometimes when you’ve had a bad day, you just need someone to vent to.

Elain Exactly! Thank you for letting me vent :) This day is finally over!

There was a selfie attached to the last message.

Elain was standing in front of a big window surrounded by flowers. She was wearing a white, oversized shirt and her hair was in a messy bun. She looked tired but happy. She was giving him ‘thumbs up’ in the photo and through the window, he could see the Sidra. They were indeed in the same city. It made him both happy and nervous.

Elain Sweaty but happy to be heading home :)

Azriel received that last message when he walked through the door to his apartment. What the hell was he supposed to answer?

But then he thought back to Nesta’s words.

You would probably be cute together.

So he took a deep breath and gathered all his courage.

Azriel You still look beautiful though

He stared at his phone. Would she answer? Would she block him? Would she tell him to stop being a creep?

Elain Thank you :) What do you look like? I might have forgotten ;)

Okay. That was flirty. Even Azriel could tell that that was a flirty text message, and he was usually oblivious to such things. He quickly walked to his bathroom (it was the room with the best lighting). He checked his shirt (no stains) and mussed with his hair.

“Good enough,” he muttered, and snapped a selfie.

Before he could chicken out, he sent it to her.

Within seconds, he received a reply.

Elain Beautiful!

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

The tags on your fic just made me realize that the “his wife has filled his house with chintz, to keep it real I fuck him on the floor” meme that ofmd seems to have inherited from the spn fandom actually makes more sense with Ed and *Jack* than Ed and Izzy. I mean, Jack IS Ed’s canonical trashy ex-bf, right?

You're so right and you should say it. Although I bring up Chintz in a Calico Jack context rather than a Stede context in that particular fic. But yeah no people will look to Izzy to fill roles that Jack should be filling because they're afraid of his drunken swagger and fuckboy antics. Not me tho I love him. I think there should be more Jack/Ed fics. I think there should be more Jack content in general. He has bewitched me mind body and soul.

[likea-black-widow-baby]

I posted 2,001 times in 2022

227 posts created (11%)

1,774 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@likea-black-widow-baby

@redvanillabee

@marvelladiesdaily

@marvelsaos

@womenofmcu

I tagged 1,126 of my posts in 2022

Only 44% of my posts had no tags

#mundie says things - 110 posts

#agents of shield - 77 posts

#it’s an ask! - 68 posts

#marvel memes - 57 posts

#melinda may - 47 posts

#it's an ask! - 42 posts

#daisy johnson - 39 posts

#taylor swift rule - 39 posts

#marvel - 35 posts

#phil coulson - 35 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#wait does the ‘ben’ in her name mean ‘child of’ a titan because that would be the funniest use of random hebrew i think i’ve ever seen

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

288 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#4

The entire ethos of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is captured in the moment when tiny human Melinda May put herself between Skye and the Asgardian goddess of war I think.

316 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

#3

After living communally for a while, I have so many questions about how The Bus was run.

Was there a chore wheel? Did they stick it up on the fridge? Did Skye keep turning it to avoid having to clean the bathrooms only for it to be miraculously reset the next time she saw it? The whole plane probably got deep cleaned by SHIELD cleaners whenever they touched down at a base, but shared kitchens and bathrooms need to be swept and wiped down at least twice a week.

Were May and Ward in charge of cleaning the gym equipment? Was that how he got her to spar with him for the first time? Did he teach Skye how to wipe down boxing gloves when she started training?

Fitz and Simmons were definitely in charge of cleaning the lab, so they definitely made their own roomba to clean it for them. Did they name it? The dwarves all have names so they had to have. Did Ward keep tripping over Snowy the Bus Roomba and what did Fitzsimmons make it say when it hit things? What did they make Snowy say when Ward stepped on her!!

How did they order groceries? We see Fitz eating popcorn and pretzels in season 1, and Ward mentions Fitz’s candy stash so how did he GET this stuff?? You can’t exactly instacart to “the mobile command unit in the middle of the Atlantic. Yeah, you see the cloud that looks like a dragon? Keep going and make a right.” Did they do grocery runs? Did they write up a shopping list and send some poor level 1 agent to Costco when they touched down? What counted as SHIELD funded and what was a personal expense? Was May upset when they bought Bigelow green tea with elderberry instead of plain green like she asked for? We see Ward making a sandwich in episode 9 so we know they have fresh food, and Coulson has standards.

Speaking of, what was cooking like? Simmons clearly didn’t know Coulson could cook when he made her dinner in season 2, so were communal meals not a thing? Did Coulson just cook for himself and May? How did they hide it?

Where was Coulson’s candy stash and did he and Fitz keep finding each other’s candy while searching for new spots to hide theirs? What. Trashy. Processed. Food. Was. Skye’s. Favorite. And Who Stole It Most Often. I need ANSWERS, Jedmo, ANSWERS

323 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

#2

New meme template for your consideration

345 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“Oh this character is evil” “Oh that character is obnoxious” “Oh your fave is actually problematic”

Okay but have you considered that I could not give less of a shit about their morality as long as they are interesting

486 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[maxwell-grant]

Speaking of Tod Slaughter... any thoughts on Grand Guignol theater..?

Looking back on it, the first time I encountered the term Grand-Guignol was also the first time I looked at Fantomas, when I picked up the book above titled The Theater of Grand Guignol, which is all too fitting as Fantomas is Grand-Guignol to it's core. It's also a term that I've seen applied a couple of times to The Spider as well as some darker fan reinterpretations of Batman. Like film noir and sword-and-sorcery, it's a term for a type of storytelling that's associated with dime novels and pulps, influenced and was influenced by them in return, but isn't really the same thing and is, in fact, a separate "genre" (not quite the right term).

Indeed, if the common cultural association of pulp is that of something trashy and violent and darker than it's contemporary culture, one can see Grand-Guignol as perhaps the darkest of it's adjecent family, the Dario Argento to pulp's John Carpenter, the cracked mirror to all that exists.

Short and full-length plays were based on the hot topics unseen onstage at this extent before, from graphic scenes of murders, tortures, sexual violence to psychological thrills like resurrections of the dead, incest, suicide, characters being hypnotized, trapped or guilty of their loved one’s deaths. In most cases, it was a combination of several of those themes in one piece, which of course, multiplied shows’ popularity - AngryFishTheatre's article

‘At one performance, six people passed out when an actress, whose eyeball was just gouged out, re-entered the stage, revealing a gooey, blood-encrusted hole in her skull. Backstage, the actors themselves calculated their success according to the evening’s faintings. During one play that ended with a realistic blood transfusion, a record was set: fifteen playgoers had lost consciousness. Between sketches, the cobble-stoned alley outside the theatre was frequented by hyperventilating couples and vomiting individuals.’

Despite of its scandalous nature, for France Grand Guignol was more than a theatre: it was a tradition, an institution, and an attraction like the Eiffel Tower or the Folies Bergères, and Maxim’s... It was then highly fashionable. Celebrities of the day, South American millionaires and errant royalty went there assiduously to be scared out of their wits.

Going to the Grand-Guignol was less a social act than a private one and certain audience members preferred not to be seen. Some witnesses reported that the iron-grilled boxes in the back of the theater encouraged a certain ‘extremism.’

The cleaning staff would often find the seats stained - — Mel Gordon, The Grand Guignol: theatre of fear and terror.

It lasted almost the exact same time period as the American pulp era (from the late 1880s to 1950s), and even in it's origin, as the theater itself was built out of the ruins of a church, and it would attain fame and legacy as the shadow opposite to Moulin Rouge's glamour and spectacle. It's original intent on being focused on naturalistic theater led to breakthroughs of horror that made it the whole selling point, and much like the pulp lords of terror I talk about, their staged and spectacled terrors were still no match for the horrors of reality that followed.

“We could never equal Buchenwald,” the Grand Guignol’s final director, Charles Nonon, told TIME magazine that year. “Before the war, everyone felt that what was happening onstage was impossible. Now we know that these things, and worse, are possible in reality.”

And of course it goes without saying that the Grand-Guignol's influence on storytellers long transcended it's original lifespan. Gore for gore's sake is hardly something I enjoy, but I've definitely enjoyed many, many films that reached to extremes of horror and violence and gore for horror and comedy alike. I would not claim the Grand-Guignol started this because I could very well be missing out on something, but they are undeniably a huge part of the history of horror as we know it, along with the German Expressionist works of the 1910s that were as well both inspired by, as well as influential, on the Grand-Guignol.

Time and time again we see the pattern emerge, of creators or outlets or mediums that emerge as cheaper and less critically-reputable alternatives to the mainstream attain extraordinary and influential success both in their circles as well as those who would never admit to looking at them for inspiration otherwise. In fact, you could very well argue that it’s alive not just through films and comics and so forth, but in newfound forms of media created by people with all the freedom to put together whatever their imaginations and limited resources and lack of restraints can create.

Like Youtube Poop.

Now maybe I'm biased here because I grew up with YTP, but really, the main intent behind every YTP is to twist the media it's using to provoke a new reaction from you, every YTP is varying levels of a rollercoaster of jokes and edits and little narratives stacking up and flowing together, references and poop jokes and murder jokes and slurs and parody and criticism and SuS and literally anything the creator thinks is gonna get a reaction that wasn't in the original material. And it doesn't even have to be exclusively about jokes, there's a lot of YTPs that are centered on horror or drama or even are just completely original narratives using the assets at hand, sometimes even clocking in at almost movie-length.

There's no filter or censors or teams making sure it's tested to the audience, it's just as much chaos as someone with video editing skills can manage to create, and more so than anything else nowadays, it's the medium that abides and amplifies the same principle that ruled and defined Grand-Guignol: "The Hot and Cold Shower"

Grand Guignol, was not the inventor of this concept, but probably the first performing arts company that used it as its main programming principle. Every evening at the theatre was programmed with plays heavily contrasting in their nature. In the 6 plays presented on a regular night, every 2 horror plays were followed by a light comedy and the light comedy by another horror play or two. Using this contrast the creators aimed to give their audiences a fuller range of emotions. They called it a "hot and cold shower".

You could also make a similar argument for creators that used Garry's Mod or Source Filmmaker to create Youtube content, many of whom either followed the styles of YTP or created their own which ended up influencing others in return, and you can definitely see how YTP as well as these have influenced our current generation's taste in comedy as well as the editing styles of many prominent creators. It even seemed for quite a while that GMOD and SFM content of this type was dead, but it definitely seems like it's gotten a revival recently, and really just never went away. Likewise, a lot of people think YTP died circa 2012 or 2015, which is completely false, it just changed a bit, as things tend to do if they are to stick around.

The entire approach of extreme hot and cold, extreme horror and comedy shuffling per second and extreme absurdity overriding is something you definitely get nowadays a lot more out of these newer forms of media than anything that film and television's capable of giving, and just as Grand-Guignol started out relatively ordinary (focused mainly on naturalistic horror) before it completely spiraled into a perpetual race for excess, we've gotten so desensitized so quickly to surprises that you can see in real time the growing needs for content that's faster and more chaotic and funnier and more dramatic and more absurd and more well-produced but also worse produced and, yeah.

I definitely wonder how we may see future filmmakers and cartoonists and creators be influenced by, not just the above, but also the rapidly changing landscapes of meme culture and social media and the gradually less-funny theater of the absurd that reality's become. I definitely imagine we'll be in for some interesting times.

Y'know, if we make it that far.

Alternatively you could also argue Jackass is also a modern Grand Guignol and they just cut out the narrative middleman to get straight to the "people getting fucked up for your amusement" part, but at this point I'd just be inviting a retread of all the "Is -X- pulp" questions I got for "Is -X- Grand Guignol", and I may have stepped straight into a rake with this one.

[iceicewifey]

6, 7 and 11 for the S/I Ask Meme, please? :3

⁺˳✧ s/i ask meme ✧˳⁺

6.) has your s/i undergone any design/story changes since they were first made?

oh god yeah shay’s had many things tweaked since i’ve had her, both design and story ;w;” i’d list them all but i’d be here forever hdjdkd

7.) give us 3 random facts abt your s/i!

❥ her eyebrow slits are never even; one side has a couple tiny scars, so she shaves the other brow to match ❥ she loves cheesy slasher flicks and trashy tv (think maury, jerry springer, etc.) ❥ she constantly has to remind herself not to mute the vacuum around non-stand user friends, in case they think she’s just pushing it around when it’s off

11. does your s/i have one outfit they’re always seen in or multiple?

she’s always in her usual outfit 🫠 hfhxfb however i do have a few other ones that i wanna sketch her in,, as well as a vague stone ocean design even tho i still don’t know how to insert her there ycjsjxkd