#it is still a work in progress

[princess-canary]

Chapter 40 preview

NSFW (mdni). Here's a preview of chapter 40. If you like it or have any comments in general, let me know <3

Since her coma, Kythonia’s dreams had been remnants of the life she had lived. The life that she had wanted to go back to. And that was if she slept, not when. Dreaming was a gift, and she worked hard to be awarded with it, fighting off demons and screaming voids. However, since her entanglement with Bruce, the dreamscape has moulded. It shifted and changed, altering into a differing version of that night.

Every night since Saturday, she was awarded a different play of how that could have gone. It was the same dream, over and over. And every morning, even on Wednesday, she woke in a sweat, her skin damp, lips parted in a pant. The glow in the dark planets bearing witness.

*

Bruce followed her to the bathroom, hands on her waist. Clearly, not having listened to a word she said. He was gentle as he coaxed her out of her clothes and sung words of affirmations, praises for her body, as her bloodied clothes were left in a pile. His fingers traced the barely-there scars, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was unfair, the way she was left in nothing, and he was still fully clothed. Somehow, they always ended up this way. 

‘You’ve got two choices,’ she said as his hands graced her bare hips. Bruce hummed, holding her hips steady as she turned on the shower. Hot water pelted down the white tile, circling the drain, steam instantly beginning to rise. ‘Either you join me, or you get out and wait.’

He looked up at her face and removed his hands. It stung, a little, thinking he had chosen to leave. She didn’t know if her heart could take more rejection. Just as she was about to step in, Bruce started to unbutton his shirt. 

‘Like I told you before,’ he said, fingers working quick. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Her breathing hardened at the scarred flesh beneath the button up. His chest was broad, tanned, and littered with scars. Fresh, healed, old. Puckered lines of pink flesh, divots of little white scars from sutures, lines of smooth discoloured marks. As if working on instinct, she reached out, fingers brushing his bare skin. The size of chest and the curve of his abs had her near salivating, but it was the line of dark hair trailing down from his naval, disappearing into the waist of his jeans that truly had her believing the Gods were real. And one was standing right in front her.

It was perfect.

His torso was perfect. His shoulders, his arms, his chest. Everything. He was carved from marble by Michelangelo himself. Would he bleed gold, if she were to cut him? Her eyes flickered back up to his face; his cheeks were flushed. She had spent a little too long admiring, it seemed. She was trying to compare the Bruce from her dream, what he looked like, but it was all smoke. Months she had spent trapped in an endless loop speculating the bounds of reality, and if this was it. She could definitively say that this was real life.

She reached for his belt buckle. Her fingers traced the fine leather, but didn’t undo it. He was watching her with bated breath, letting her take the lead. 

‘Let me make one thing clear,’ she said, ‘this is not that kind of shower. I don’t want— I don’t want—‘

The words were hard to say. Usually she was full of them, but he made her brain go all fuzzy. He cupped her cheeks again and kissed her, sweet, gentle, and soft. 

‘Okay,’ he said, pressing his forehead against hers. ‘Not that kind of shower.’ 

That was all she needed. She made quick work of his belt, unbuckling it and slipping it off with ease. His hands moved from her face, tracing the curve of her collar, her shoulders, her breast, until, once again, settling on her waist, thumbs circling her skin. The cut on her ribs had all but healed, leaving smooth skin behind. The blood coating her didn’t seem to worry him at all. She returned the favour by unbuttoning his jeans, pulling down the zip. 

‘Boxers or briefs?’ She quipped, as her fingers dipped below the waist band.

Bruce snorted, ‘why don’t you find out?’

She hummed, lips pursed, then lifted her hands from his abdomen. She stepped out of his hold and beckoned for him to follow as she stepped into the shower, hot water rushing down her body, washing away the sins of the day. Bruce nearly tripped over his own feet trying to shimmy out of his jeans.

She wanted to put it out there, she was a sex positive person. Once she learned to love herself, she loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it. After, well over two years without it, including prior to her going into the coma, she didn’t realise how antsy she was. She thought about them together in her dream, and her stomach cinched. Having him behind her, naked, his hands working the knots in her shoulders.

It turned into that kind of shower.

Once she made her intentions known, Bruce had her pinned against the shower wall in no time, the hot water running down his back like a waterfall. His hands were underneath her, fingers digging into her ass and thighs, holding her up with ease. He alternated between sucking and nipping at her neck and collar and capturing her lips in tantalising kisses. Her legs were hooked around his hips, heels digging into the small of his back; her arms thrown around his neck, pulling him closer and alternating between tugging on his hair and digging her nails into his shoulder blades. It was all dependent on whether his hips were connecting with hers. His rhythm was steady, movements controlled, all things considered.

She thought he was an asshole.

Keeping the pace when she begged to speed up, stopping when she got too quiet. He was hitting spots she didn’t even think was possible, and she’s been fucked in the shower plenty of time. What she could praise him on, was his ability to make some noise. His lips by her ear, was enough to send her over the edge.

It was giggly and breathless afterwards. He helped her wash her hair, picking out shards of glass from the fish tank, and running a comb through it when she asked. Bruce washed away her misdeeds, and didn’t question her immoralities.

He carried her to her room. Told her it was part of his plan to ease her pain. She’d been walking the path independently for too long, apparently, it was time to rest her aching feet. Bruce treated her to Déjà vu; rubbing lotion over her body. She figured his worship of her was more for his benefit than hers. She was dead the last time he saw her, he probably wanted to be sure that she wasn’t a mirage. While she was able to goad him into using her good moisturiser, she was sorely disappointed he didn’t let her rub into him.

‘That’s two, I owe you,’ she said, laying back on her bed, watching as he rubbed the coconut cream into his chest. ‘Just so you’re aware.’

‘Two what?’ he mused, his eyes locking onto hers.

‘Full bodies. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten the first one.’

When he was done, he climbed onto the bed, hovering himself over her. She was hesitant, as if they didn’t just fuck in the shower. The last time they were together, it resulted in an unplanned, subsequently wanted pregnancy ending in a death that could have won best special effects. It was all, blah blah blah, safe sex but what if that was their destiny? What if that was what was weaved into the loom for them this entire time? Death?

He lowered his body onto hers as he kissed her.

‘Bruce,’ she said, pulling away. ‘I don’t know.’

He looked at her lips, licked his own, then nodded. ‘We can just talk, that’s fine. It’s all I’ve wanted for a while.’

He was lying on top of her, his head resting on her belly, arms wrapped her waist. She had him locked in, legs resting on his back. The silver pieces of his spine were catching in the light. She’d noticed in the shower, but didn’t say anything out of respect. But she was curious. They’d spent so long just chatting about everything else, all the new things, she didn’t think to ask about his life pre-her. Sure, she could find out herself, but it would be more appropriate and more authentic if she asked. Give him the opportunity to open up. Tit for tat. Her fingers threaded his hair, and she rubbed her thumb along his hairline, pulling a sigh deep from within his chest. He lifted his head and rested his chin on her stomach, looking up at her through his lashes. 

‘A car crash,’ he said, as if reading her mind. ‘At least, that’s what we told the world.’

‘What was the real reason?’

He pressed a kiss to her sternum, ‘I don’t know if you could handle the answer.’

‘Try me. You might be surprised.’ 

He kissed the spot again. And again. Peppering little kisses across her skin, distracting himself from whatever it was he was about to say. Or distracting her. He moved up, leaving a trail of love as his lips, soft as clouds, brushed her left breast, nipping here and there. So, she didn’t actually mind. They’ve done a lot of talking.

‘Bruce,’ his name came out breathy from her lips. He hummed, the sound reverberating through her chest. ‘You’re deflecting.’

His tongue swiped across her nipple, eliciting a breath hitch from her. He was determined, distracting, his teeth grazing sensitive skin. With each nip, he soothed, eventually his lips parting with a satisfying pop before he dipped his head and moved to her right. Equal attention and all that. She wasn’t going to complain, he knew what he was doing, in more ways than one. Her fingers twirled around the thick strands of his hair, and she tugged after a particularly sharp nip to the underside of her boob. Don’t get her wrong, heat pooled ridiculously fast in the pits of her tummy, but she just wasn’t expecting it. He groaned at the pull, and tipped his head back, moving with her. 

‘Yes, dear?’ He mused, voice husky. 

‘You were telling me about your spine,’ she flicked her chin, gesturing towards his back. He groaned and dropped his head, hair hanging over his eyes. ‘If it’s too much trouble, I can just go get dressed—‘

‘Don’t do that,’ he cut her off. A sly smile spread across her face. ‘It’s— I just, don’t want it to change the way you think about me.’

‘I literally just came home covered in blood, which you washed it off me, no question. I also told you that you pulled our child out of my body before I died. I think we’re past that, a little, don’t you reckon?’ She released her grip on his hair and rested her hand on the side of his face. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me.’

He sighed, then kissed her chest, just above where her heart beat. ‘For the last, twenty years or so, I have taken up a duty at night to bring justice and peace to the citizens of Gotham. It has also extended to the occasional world and universe saving event with other, heroes.’ 

Silence settled, heavy as a blanket. 

‘So, let me wrap my head around this. You’re telling me, you’re the—‘

‘Yes. I’m the Batman.’

---

There was that part of her that always knew. Ever since she sunk into his head that night in the house. He was good at keeping those parts of himself separate, but she wondered when it would have been too hard. When one would bleed into the other. It’s difficult, going out every night and wading waist deep in filth and then having to pretend the world was cheesy at sunrise. It could break a person. Selina knew. Or at least, she claimed to. Selina is a hustler, there’s no telling how sharp her silver tongue was, how deep her claws tear. She could have been alluding to something else entirely just to spook and seed doubt. 

Kythonia couldn’t be mad. She wanted to be, for those nights he spent in her apartment, in her house in Cherry Hill, deceiving her. But she had played the con too. She was playing one now. She spouted rhetoric about honesty and the truth, but her deceptions run blood deep. They’re carved into her bones and will only be revealed upon exhumation once she’s wasted away. Archaeologists and museum curators will hang her skeleton in a glass coffin and write scripture off the engravings. Here lies the original deceiver, they’ll say, cast out of heaven, denied entry into hell. Forever on display to heed warning for all who seek to commit subterfuge. 

If anything, she felt a sense of relief. It had only been one man. One man seeking her out, one man wishing her comfort, one man proving his worth to her. She had no need to worry; he knew more about her than she had previously thought. He knew who she was, and he continued to pour his heart and his soul into her. She didn’t have to hide, not really. 

Bruce looked worried. She hadn’t said anything. The seven stages were rapidly progressing through her head, eventually landing on acceptance. She didn’t want to argue, she’d had enough of fighting. For the day, the week, a lifetime. Her whole life has been one big fight, she just wanted it to end. She just wanted to lay here, with him, and enjoy the little pocket they carved out for themselves without having to worry. 

‘Okay.’

The only word she was going to say about it. He was a big boy; he could handle himself. He has been handling himself since before she was born, which, was an odd thing to think about, but it was true. He looked startled, eyes widening, eyebrows coming together. 

‘That’s— you’re not— I just told you I’m the Batman and all you have to say is, okay?’ He said, dropping an octave, confused. 

She shrugged, ‘yes. Now, are you going to kiss me, or?’

‘No, I mean, yes, I— wait.’ Bruce pushed himself up, sitting back on his legs. He brushed his fingers through his hair. She felt cold and weightless. Sighing, Kythonia pulled herself into a sitting position, dropping her legs from his waist. ‘Do you care?’

‘I care deeply. I also, kinda already knew, so it’s easy to rationalise.’

‘Huh.’ He settled back, shoulders dropping. She folded her legs beneath her and sat up on her knees. If she didn’t know any better, he seemed, disappointed. Kythonia ran her fingers across his chest, down his abdomen. He’d sparked something in her when he was kissing her chest. She didn’t want to talk, she needed to have him.

‘I can get mad if you want. We can pretend to argue.’

‘No, that’s okay,’ Bruce said. He cleared his throat then looked to her, the spark reigniting in his eyes. ‘We can argue later, like about how it’s unethical that you kept a crime boss locked up in your spare room.’

‘Hey—‘

He cut her off with a kiss and fought back a smile as she relaxed. His hands gripped her waist, fingers digging in as he lifted her up without a struggle. As if they’d done so a hundred times before, she settled in his lap, her legs either side of his, her hips knocking against his. He breathed her in, taking the lead.

‘It’s for a good reason,’ she said with a pant, pulling away. 

‘And we can debate that, after.’ His head dipped, lips on her neck, leaving a trail of red marks.

His right hand moved from her waist, slipping between their bodies. He groaned into her skin as she gasped then whined, his fingers circling, applying generous pressure. It was just enough. Her gasps at one of his fingers slipping in had him breathing heavy. With his hand on her waist, he controlled the roll of her hips, keeping her rhythm steady. She was undone in a matter of seconds, much to his surprise. This Bruce was just as debauched as the one in her dream, she whined as his finger slipped out, and her eyes near crossed when he brought his hand up to her lips. Maybe she was too. He met her eye when she took his finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around and letting it go, glistening, with a lewd pop. She kissed him with a moan.

It was breath hitches and lustrous smiles as they came together. Became one.

[steakboned]

I like it when the blue sky does that thing

[eridan-ampora]

i love it when characters are codependent. i love it when losing someone feels like losing a limb. i love it when two people "complete" each other so wholly and terribly that one can barely function without the other. i love it when the fear of losing the only person who understands them is so all-consuming they'll destroy anything to stay together, including themselves.

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[sadagios]

my right hand man.

+ some really really rough sketches of duos for the au. if you cant figure whats going on with the sketches, dont worry, i cant either.

[leahgardner-art]

Rebirth 🐝

[salamispots]

speedrunning a bday gift for bb nephew hjdfgjh

[aerofbreath]

Actually writing something based off of this post. Y'all really seemed to like it and I got scared LOLOL

(How it will probably go (written poorly written cause it's almost 7AM and I haven't slept yet) . Also I have no idea what I'm doing. This will be rewritten better in a fic maybe.)

Jason sighed as he made his way into Gotham University's gym. It was the middle of the day and Jason was there at a Startup Event posing as a guy who was interested in what people had to offer. He had only had maybe a total of four hours of sleep since he had patrol the night before. Granted, this wouldn't have affected him as much if he was more mentally prepared to be awake. The only reason why he's out here was because Bruce had woken him up an hour ago to tell him a little last minute about what he needed to do today. Originally, the plan was to do absolutely nothing. But now he has to investigate a guy that Bruce had his eye on as of lately.

The person he's looking for is a man named Danny Nightingale. Apparently he's been in Gotham for a couple years and only recently started making a mess of things. How it went under Bruce's nose is beyond him considering how freaked out Bruce was once he did find out.

Apparently, the guy has been making life changing machines. Little mechanical bees have been flying around Gotham really just sucking up all the pollution in the air and just depositing it somewhere. According to the media, they go back to some headquarters and into a bee hive looking structure to deposit all the pollution and sludge. From the photos shown, it's actually pretty impressive. Some guy actually making a change around here.

For Bruce- no. For Batman, this is just highly suspicious. Why would some guy make these positive life changing machines? For the better? No. No genius with the power to change the world would do it for the better. There's got to be some ulterior motive behind it.

At least, that's what Batman thinks.

Jason thinks it's all interesting. Maybe there is an ulterior motive but even then, at a scale so large that it's literally affecting the city in a positive way? You've got to be literally more insane than the Joker if you wanted to plaster your face everywhere at an event like this. Everyone else at this event seemed to show promise but compared to Danny Nightingale's company? They're literally all small fry.

Surprisingly enough, however, no one else seems to be at Danny's booth. Not even Danny. Jason frowned as he approached the booth and just looked at the machines on them. The Bees are kind of just flying in place and the moment that Jason even looked at them, the Bees immediately got to work. They flew around him like a puppy with wings, nuzzling against him and bumping into him so dumbly. And honestly?

It was actually kind of cute. You would think that being on such little hours of sleep and being grumpy the whole morning would really affect the pits inside him but no. He's surprisingly calm.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! They don't usually act like this," a voice stuttered out. A man hastily walked towards Jason as he gently plucked the Bees out of the air and brought it close to him.

"Uh, don't worry about it. I thought it was kind of..." Jason trailed out before locking eyes with the man who spoke.

This was Danny Nightingale. He was much shorter than Jason, only standing tall at 5' 5". His hair was fully black with only a white money piece right on his bangs. And his eyes? An alluring blue with only a hint of green at the center of his eyes. Honestly, the sight of Danny just about took Jason's breath away.

There was a subtle glow to him, almost making Jason think of there being some sort of meta activity going on but looking around the people in the area, no one but him seems to notice. Danny was concerned about Jason, that much is obvious. The way his eyes burrowed in concern then into confusion. It's strange why just looking at him made Jason's heart skip a beat, even though in hindsight, Danny looks much worse off than Jason.

That man looks like he hasn't slept in 3 weeks. But even then he was...

"Cute..." Jason finally finished his sentence a little too late.

Danny blinked in confusion, tilting his head to the side. His bangs fall freely over his eyes. Just the sight of that almost made Jason blush. "My bees were cute?" Danny spoke, the tone of his voice (very tired) sounded like a sweet harmony in Jason's ears. "Oh! You're interested in Nightech? No one else seems to be interested in my stuff yet. I can tell you all about this company and how it works? I put in a lot of work and love into these little guys and I'm sure you would love them too!"

Blah blah blah. Proper name. Place name. Backstory stuff.

Nothing of what Danny is saying is registering in Jason's brain right now. Maybe some. ("I... Love... You...")

"I love you too!!" Jason blurted out.

Danny blinked before widening his eyes. "Wh-What...?" There was that look of concern again but now there's another look. Recognition...

Whatever. None of that right now. This is embarrassing!

"I-I said I love your company. Uh. Do you have a business card? I can let Bruce Wayne know about this."

Wordlessly, Danny gave an information card to Jason before that poor brick of a man just ran out of there, not once even looking back. Honestly, from the way it's playing out in Jason's head right now, he feels like a princess running away from her prince at the stroke of midnight. The earpiece crackled before a voice started to speak.

"Jason? What the hell was that?" Bruce's voice questioned.

It was only when Jason left the gymnasium that he answered, "Me digging my own grave for the second time, old man. Let me go die in peace."

"No, no," Dick's voice chimed in, "Only after we replay that very short conversation about 50,000 times. Thank you very much."

Jason only groaned in response.

Danny, back in the gymnasium, only stared at the door that Jason left from in horror. The only way for people to react that way to him like that is for them to be dead or liminal. Now he has to figure out a way to tell Bruce Wayne that this person that he seems to know is a little bit dead!

This actually is a part of whatever the fuck I'm writing. I'm still thinking of a fic name. But all of the random posts go together in some way.

[yeye23]

I am not sure if this is legible, BUT just wanted to show a work in progress of one of the things I am working on! (imma not tell you from what fan comic this is from...) Where Donnie is kicking butt with a group fight. Plz enjoy!

[purble-sarah]

remember that work in progress i shared?

its complete now, also i changed the harley bike for a ducati cuz i think that would make more sense for jason to have

[mushroom-kin]

Sunset at Windrise - A study with original additions

[bri-does-art]

I know it's like the penultimate day of mermay but--

Guess whose wrist is beginning to get better :))

[pinkbeetroot]

orym sketch hes my favorite of all time

[anbaisai]

It's not even actually their birthday

(Based on a conversation I had with a friend + Jamil's 2024 birthday present to the player)

[reasonsforhope]

100% have been perusing your climate change masterpost, and understand you're probably swamped so feel free to delete of course. But if you can find the time, is there any kind of hope to give in fighting climate change now? Can we save ourselves against the oncoming steamroll?

You hang in there too. Thanks for finding the hope among everything else. It feels so bad rn but I have to believe it can change. I hope it can.

Yeah actually I do think there is hope.

Things are going to get rough. Things are going to get worse before they get better, both for the climate and for people living in the US (and for people living in lots and lots of other countries that will be affected by the US election results/the ways the climate will worsen as aa result).

I haven't posted about this yet because I didn't want it to come to this, but now that it has, here's something that people have been quietly saying/research has been showing for months:

-via Reuters, November 6, 2024

Renewables, especially solar, are just too powerful to be stopped. They just too much cheaper and too much better, and that's only going to become more true, not less.

Also, I think (and hope) it's actually inevitable that at some point, we'll get to net negative carbon emissions. I think it's like solar: the technology, cost, and planet all make it feel like an inevitable technological trajectory, the same way solar tech is on an exponential trajectory. (IF WE WORK FOR IT, OBVIOUSLY, but also so, so many people ARE working for it, have dedicated their lives to working for it)

I sure fucking hope that's the case, anyway.

(You can find my masterpost on going net negative on what that actually means here)

It is gonna happen more slowly and shittily than I hoped, but I do think it's going to happen.

And if we can get to net negative emissions in time to save ourselves (which I think we will, the rates of advancement in many of these areas are very impressive), then we'll be able to slowly start to undo and heal lot of the damage.

[azolitmin]

2015 - 2025