#and i'm still not over these blurry photos

[wcvensouls]

joodances someone was caught taking secret photos of me 🙊

comments : seunghyunnie i swear one day i will take one bad picture of you seunghyunnie how do you always look good??? soobinnn it's the veins on the first picture for me 🥵 soobinnn actually it's all of them for me, i'm on my knees joodances damn right you are @ soobinnn joodances you can keep trying, gorgeous 💖 @ seunghyunnie jinkyungtae just give me one chance, i'm begging joodances you are so cute when you beg 🥺 @ jinkyungtae

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

ARCTIC MONKEYS 25/06/23

okay now that i've had some time to (slightly) emotionally and physically recover from yesterday, i need to flail about the highlights:

1) meeting one of my absolute favourite humans who i would never have got to know if it hadn't been for this little corner of tumblr - and then getting to share the excitement/nerves/elation/exhaustion rollercoaster of seeing am with them was just - there aren't even words for it. so special 💖

2) learning how to navigate rain ponchos

3) impulse buying too much merch (but also not regretting it. the glasgow tour poster is going to be the first thing going on my wall in my new flat)

4) the mirrorball starting to twirl just before they all came onstage and sending the colours of the afternoon sun everywhere

5) the sheer rush of the moment they all walked onstage together (also that was pretty much the only time i got to glimpse nick and matt at all 💔 from where i was standing i could mostly only see alex and jamie)

6) seeing alex a few metres away in real life after months of looking at his beautiful, dorky little expressions in photos/videos was surreal in the best possible way- there's just something so different about the way you get a sense of someone's energy when you're in the same space with them?? and as someone who's endlessly interested in people, i'm fascinated by how alex simultaneously gives off really reserved, self-contained vibes at the same time as being such a dynamic and captivating performer - like he’s so good at tapping into emotions without letting them be a door into how he’s actually feeling (if that makes any sense, my post-gig brain is not very articulate) i guess that all very much makes sense with all the stuff he's said about personas/performing, but it was still so interesting to get to really feel that sense of his presence in live time. he's definitely very much in control but in a very understated kind of way

7) a bunch of birds circling overhead on one side of the crowd, alex seeing them and dramatically declaring 'release the rest of the birds' 

8) me and the lovely human i went with turning to each other with expressions of sheer joy when the opening bars of crying lightning were played (and don't sit down. and four stars. and arabella. and - you get the picture. getting to share the sheer delight of your favourite songs being played is just the loveliest feeling 💗)

9) alex doing a quirky little 'ha ha' laugh in the middle of body paint 

10) mirrorball coinciding with the most beautiful pink dusk and half moon just above the stage, and getting to witness alex’s piano playing at the start of it

11) body paint. just. body paint. i think my soul left my body.

12) how much energy and enthusiasm alex seemed to have throughout the set - especially after the last week or so it was just the loveliest thing to see him messing about and having fun. and his voice sounded SO good. how anyone manages to sing like that (let alone sound like that less than a week after cancelling shows due to laryngitis) is an absolute mystery to me

13) alex's theatrical hand gestures for crying lightning (the one for gobstopper was a particular favourite)

14) hearing 505 when dusk has just fallen and you can see the smudged moon behind the deep indigo clouds is the only way anyone should ever hear 505 

15) alex and matt having a giggle about something mid set

16) obviously i was aware of how stupidly talented they all are - but there's something about seeing it unfold in front of you in real time that makes it really hit you. the sound wasn't great where i was for some of the time so i don't feel like i got the best audio sense of everything, but i was just so struck in particular by matt on the drums and also alex with his guitar playing. i feel like when i'm just listening to their records i'm so busy listening to alex's voice that i forget how incredible a guitar player he is and - wow. just. yeah. it honestly took my breath away.

17) getting the distinct impression that it provides alex with a sense of amusement to deliberately do that thing where he sings the lyrics at slightly different speeds to trip the crowd up

18) even though i ended up being in significant pain for the second half of the set and had to go find somewhere a little further back where i could lean against the railings (chronic pain conditions and standing for 6+ hours apparently isn't the best mix), nothing could dull how magical it was hearing all the tracks from the car that they played closer to the end. standing there in the dusk and feeling so much about everything is something i'll never forget. it truly brought home to me so poignantly everything about why am's music means so much to me and how much love i have for them 💜

19) being in the exact line of direction alex blew kisses to at the end

20) the hazy post-gig walking in the dark under lit up green trees with the lovely human i went with and our conversations about am and creativity and the courage of sharing music 💖

[amalasdraws]

https://www.tumblr.com/bigmammallama5/732632789726478336?source=share do you have any tips on how to detect ai and deepfakes?

Good question and I'm gonna be honest, it's not always easy and it will only get harder and harder. I'm just an artist who has spent their personal time to dive into this topic and study images. I'm still learning and there is a lot I don't know. But let me show what I know. This will be long, but I will make a summary at the end! So far, even with ai having become better and better there are still almost always some things wrong with an image, and they all have a very specific look to them. So let me try to show you some and point out some of them.

As we all know, a biggest struggle ai had were hands. And even though here and there we still see messed up hands, I say "had", because the hands is actual a good example on how ai is improving and will only get better. Still, looking at pictures that show more hands is always worth it, because somewhere in the back there will be most likely at least one messed up hand.

Another issue a lot of ai still has is hair though!

It's very obvious still in many ai "drawings" and in those otherwise well rendered portraits. Hair starts to blend with the ears a lot, or with the clothes.

There is also often this very odd look between something too sharp and way too blurry

There is often a very specific texture to the hair. I actually do not know the artistic or specific name for it. I can only describe it as this weird sharp feeling that makes it look oddly pixely, and then you have areas where it's very blurry. And the kind of loops and almost flame like looking hair we see in the last pic out of the three here is also something very common with ai.

As an artist I know we make mistakes too! The way I draw hair is flawed too! But it's not only that it's flawed here, but it's following always the same pattern and falls into the same issues over and over again, no matter who is "creating" the image. Those flame like loops are a common one, next to the odd blends and weird sharp and blurry textures.

But ai is getting better, and we not only have "art" and something that tries to be a drawing/painting, but photos too.

A lot of those "photos" have a very specific texture and look to them! Again, it's not always the mistakes, but the very specific optic too. A lot of the images are oddly smooth, too rendered, with always blurry backgrounds. And when you look closer at the background you will see the mistakes! The crowd behind Jesus is a hot mess once you look closer. Bob Marley's hair has the same issue than I described before. Lincoln is surrounded by people with messed up hands and don't even get me started on the faces behind Caesar.

So a lot of ai images look alright on a first and quick glance, but as more time you spend with them, as more mistakes you will notice. The wehre is Waldo of ai horror.

And those "photos" shared here are still very obvious. Not just the mistakes and messed up details but the very specific aesthetic too.

Those images get better and better and as less details you have, as less mistakes you have!

With photos like this it becomes harder and harder. There are not many details and no hands. Not many mistakes can be made. Also the very obvious plastic looking smoothness isn't so much here anymore. It kinda still is...but differently. And always the blurry background!! Sometimes the hair is still a giveaway. Collars and clothe straps are also often still a giveaway upon close look. As is jewelry. Earrings will be different and necklaces often don't go all the way around, just end, or blend with the hair or clothes.

Often details on jewelry is also blurry and not shown properly. This is a trick with many details. With jewelry, batches, hair, ears, text. So it's often blurred out and not shown properly because ai doesn't know what to really show here.

It's often really just the small details and when we scroll down quickly we will miss them. Like the wedding ring on the middle finger, the pens on top of a closed pocket, the batches that are always blurry, messed up faces that blend with a blurry background.

And sometimes it's so subtle that I could only really tell that right is the ai image in comparison to the real photo on the left. The real photo shows hands clearly and even when things are blurred out it doesn't feel that it's done to hide things. The ai image on the right hides the hands. There is also a very dead look in the eyes :D

And here I could only tell because the text in the back doesn't make sense. Even blurred out we should be able to make out something here

And after seeing a lot of ai images I recognize the kind of blurred out bg in combination with a very smooth and well rendered foreground/characters.

And here the only giveaway is a closer look at the backgrounds as well

To summarize it:

Ai and fake news rely on a fast living world. We are being bombarded with tons of information and messages daily and we scroll past quickly. But the best tool, for now, in detecting ai is taking our time! Those images get better and better but so far there are still always some things off!! Especially in the background!

Hair. Often weirdly smoothed out and oddly sharp at the same time

Hair often blends with the ears or the clothes

Details are blurred out.

Jewelry doesn't match (example earrings). Details on metal often blurred out and never shown. Necklaces blend with hair or the clothes, and don't go around the neck.

Background is always blurred out.

In this blurred mess there are often hidden very messed up faces and/or hands.

A very specific smooth and yet too sharp/too rendered aesthetic combines with an always blurry bg.

Text, especialyl in the background, is not legible and doesn't make sense.

Backgrounds are often (so far) the dead giveaway. Somewhere in the back things become muddled and messed up. This shows also very well in ai decor/architecture. There will be odd lines that don't align or align too well. Curtain poles that end in the furniture, a plant that is behind a lamp suddenly having leaves in front of the lamp. As longer you look as more you will notice.

Conclusion:

Take your time with images! Sit with them! Especially when it's framed as important and political news. Is it ai and propaganda, or did it really happen? Don't fall for the quick buzz and outrage! Some things are obvious right away but with others you have to take your time. And it's time you have! If you are still unsure if a pic is real or not, do some research on top. Image reverse search. Can you find it anywhere else? Are other news outlets sharing it? Does the image/message make sense? For example there is now a deepfake of Bella Hadid voicing support for Israel. Ask yourself, does this make sense? If it feels out of line compared to previous behavior, do some research! Media literacy is not just as being able to recognize a fake or real right away, but being able to do research. To question things! Don't just take every post online for face value. Even when shared by a mutual you trust. They might have been tricked!

There are so many information online and it's great to have access to so information, but it's also difficult to wade through all of it. Media and truth are a weapon and it's being twisted and bend used to manipulate. Always has! But ai and so many people being able to post and share things, it becomes bigger and bigger and more dangerous. So don't just take everything that is handed to you and share it further no questions asked. Media literacy and being able to think for ourselves and do the research is important!! And as research becomes harder and harder, as sources are being messed up with ai and other fake news, it's even more important to sit with the images and study them. See the flaws, the mistakes. Compare it to other news and images.

This got long, and I started to ramble at the end. Sorry But I hope this helped

[woso-dreamzzz]

Photo

Patri Guijarro x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Patri teases your girlfriend

"And this is one of her eating a plushie. And this is one of-"

"Patri," Talia says," Seriously, stop. You're embarrassing me."

"Good," Patri says, nodding her head," As your sister-"

"We're literally cousins."

"-It's my job to embarrass you around your girlfriend." She winks. "And show her just how out of your league she is."

Talia rolls her eyes, arms crossed as she sags on Patri's sofa.

You laugh a little bit, reaching out to squeeze your girlfriend's knee.

"And this is Talia when we went ice skating when she was little. We took Pina with us and she wiped us both out."

Pina yells out her outrage from the kitchen but doesn't come out to defend herself. She's been slaving out the stove for the whole day trying out some new recipe for lunch.

It hasn't been going well and none of you are going to tell her you've already ordered lunch until it turns up.

It's safer that way.

The burnt smell was really taking over the room which is why Patri busted out the old photo albums to distract you.

"Oh! I like this one!" Talia leans over you to point and you smile. "It was when I was little. At one of Patri's matches."

"Frido's there," Patri says, pointing out your aunt to you.

"And I'm there." You point.

The room goes silent.

"What?" Talia sputters.

You frown. "That's me. Right there. See?"

The picture is old but it was captured on a good quality camera so it doesn't look like it's faded at all.

In the foreground is Patri and Talia. Talia's little in it, maybe around four or five.

Patri looks hot and sweaty, straight off of the pitch after a match. She's got Talia up on her hip, both of them doing a big thumbs up to the camera.

In the background is the rest of the team, most of them are blurry but a few of them are more in focus.

Pina stands a little to the left, head half turned as she talks to someone just out of view. To the right is your aunt Frido.

It looks like she's grinning but she's a bit too far away to know that for sure.

Next to her, is you.

You're little like Talia is, still just a kid but you'd seen enough photos of yourself at that age to be able to tell that it's you.

Frido's hand is on your head, ruffling your hair and you're wearing her Barcelona shirt.

It's funny to think that so many years later, she wears your Barcelona shirt instead.

"That's you?!" Talia asks," But...But...What?!"

"Yeah, that's me," You confirm, nodding," What's so shocking about it?"

"But that's you! And that's me!"

"Yes?"

"But...We were so close to each other! How come we never met?"

You laugh at Talia's astounded face. "I'm very shy," You tease," I was probably scared. And, you know, language barrier. We wouldn't have been able to communicate."

Talia pouts and Patri laughs.

"Maybe it's better this way," She says," Otherwise you'd have been pining after her since childhood. How many more sappy letters would you have written in that time?"

Talia's face turns red and you grin.

"Sappy letters?"

"Don't listen to h-"

"So many sappy letters!" Patri seems delighted to have more things to embarrass Talia with. "For a moment, I thought she would start writing poetry."

"Shut up! You're so annoying!"

But, of course, Patri didn't shut up. She rarely did when the alternative was embarrassing Talia so thoroughly.

"She didn't know your address so she never sent them but I'm sure she would have. She really poured out her heart."

"Oh, yeah? What did they say?"

Patri clears her throat. "Your eyes are-"

"That's enough!"

Talia launches herself over your body to tackle Patri to the ground, the two of them wrestling on the ground.

"Fuck!" You hear from the kitchen right as the fire alarm goes off.

The doorbell rings. The food is here.

You smile, snapping a photo of the picture, sending it off to your aunt as you pick your way through the carnage to get to the food.

[yannawayne]

vi. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE

 ༻⊰───⋅

"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.

The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.

Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God.  And I'd get Him to swap our places.  Be runnin' up that road.  Be runnin' up that hill  Be runnin' up that building. 

Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.

When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.

You:

"At your locker."

You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.

Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain. 

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.

“Beloved?”

A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.

“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.

Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.

His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.

“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.

“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”

Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.

Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.

Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.

“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”

“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”

Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts. 

Damian’s hand froze.

Muscle tear. He realized.

Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy. 

Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple,  offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.

Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.

"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”

He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.

“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.

You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.

“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.

“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.

“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”

Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.

"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.

But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”

“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”

Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”

You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”

“No.”

“You’re going to miss your first period.”

“And?”

“Your education will be in ruins.”

“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”

You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”

Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.

Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.

“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”

“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.

“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.

"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.

“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”

“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.

"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."

“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”

Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”

“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”

“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.

“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”

It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.

Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.

When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle. 

“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.

“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”

Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"

“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”

“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”

Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”

WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!

The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.

You stared at Morgan, incredulous. 

“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”

As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.

Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”

“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."

You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.

“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.

Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”

You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”

“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.

Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.

Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.

A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.

With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings. 

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.

CRACK!

Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.

Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”

You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”

Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.

“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.

“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.

"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”

You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”

Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”

You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”

As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.

One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.

When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.

The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.

Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"

"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"

Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."

You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”

Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”

She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”

“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.

You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage. 

“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.

“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.

As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.

CLANG!

You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.

“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.

Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.

After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”

Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.

You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen. 

Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.

"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."

As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.

“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.

!!!

“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.

Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”

Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.

DANGER.

“Get down!”

Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.

A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.

Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.

"A little spider has wandered into my web~"

Shit.

Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.

"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.

You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.

From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.

"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"

The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.

"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."

Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.

"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."

Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.

"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."

Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”

“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”

“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.

Beep!

In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.

“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”

“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”

With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them. 

Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.

You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.

You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.

JAB!

“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.

Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”

Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.

Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”

“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”

You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”

“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”

You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”

“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”

“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”

!!!

Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.

Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:

TOXIN DETECTED.

“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.

“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”

"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"

Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”

“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”

With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.

Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision. 

Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”

Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window. 

"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."

THWIP.

Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.

“PEST!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.

Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.

From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.

He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.

"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.

"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."

"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."

"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."

As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.

He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.

He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.

Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.

THWIP.

There was a pause.

Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.

As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.

Hunt.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.

Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”

"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”

Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"

With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.

Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.

You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

CRACK.

The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.

“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.

You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.

“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.

“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements. 

“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”

Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”

“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”

You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”

You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”

Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”

With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.

‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.

After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.

The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night. 

Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm. 

Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.

In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.

Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.

For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.

A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.

“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”

Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.

Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”

You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.

“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”

Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.

Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.

He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.

Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you. 

He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.

Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.

Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.

Pest.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.

Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.

"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"

Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.

"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.

For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.

You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.

"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.

Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.

Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.

Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.

The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.

Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.

A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

dundunDUN

whatchu think bookiebears

surely the batfam will handle this well

[heartfullofleeches]

Miller [Streamer Yan] and Vtuber Darling that's a regular 110% human being just like them :). Darling's model is pretty average, yet cute looking, but it's their gimmick that really pulls people in.

"Ah, I'm a little thirsty. Excuse me while I drink water with my human mouth... which I have only one of."

"Do you like when I play horror games? I. Like. Them. Too. But I prefer the ones where the main character befriends the monsters at the end :)"

"Oh... Is that really what people look like instead?... I. Am full of meat too. We have so much more in common than I thought."

Quite the oddball, but their chat finds their behaviors adorable. Miller does too. They're over the moon when Darling accepts their friend requests and even more thrilled when darling mentions Miller is their first companion and streaming buddy. They've never been able to make friends before and was lonely because of it, but since they've gained a following it feels like they're never alone.

There are a few hiccups on the day Miller and Darling first stream together. Static drowns out darling's voice when they call and Miller can faintly hear what sounds like...purring? in the background. Darling apologies for the strange sounds once they're finally able to get through to Miller - their pet cat was happy they finally made a friend.

Miller is crushing hard from day one. They've never seen darling's face, but if they're half as cute as their voice they might be too far out of Miller's league. They've tried scrolling through darling's social media pages for photos of them, but all they were able to find was old selfies taken in the worst lighting imaginable... Pretty blurry too.

Darling likes Miller too. They feel as though they can trust the streamer. Trust them with anything.

"Mill...er? I. Have a confession."

"I'm all ears- Lay it on me, baby."

"Can you promise? Promise. Not to be.. Afraid?"

"Afraid? Who'd ever be scared of someone like you? You don't really scream serial killer from the conversations we've had so far."

"If that's is the case... Join the call. See. Me. I. Trust you, Miller."

Call? Oh, darling invited them to a video call. It's crazy that it's the first one after all the time, but Miller respects their privacy....a little. Miller can't see much of anything when they join in. Small, white lights greet them shrouded by the darkness of darling's room as their end connects. Looking closer, Miller realizes....

Those are eyes.

"I'm. So sorry for deceiving you.... and everyone else. Miller.... Thank you for being so kind to me. I couldn't lie to you anymore. I'm sorry. I understand. If you hate me now ...."

"Hate you?.... I'm trying to figure out when our first date is-"

"Ah?"

"You like pork chops? Steak? I remember you talking a lot about meat in earlier streams. I like a person who can really eat, y'know?"

Are they.... flirting? Darling is vaguely aware of the practice. Miller can see them right? Why are they acting so nonchalant about their appearance?

"Hm? It's still you, isn't it? A few more eyes or rows of teeth don't change the fact you're one of the chillest people I've met online. Cutest too. Even now.... So, when can we meet up?"

Miller is strange.... but Darling is strange too. They're happy they met them.

-

Miller: So you're telling me you've been this sexy monster person this entire time?

Vtuber Darling: i... suppose?

Miller: And you choose that boring ass design as your avatar?! Actually that was probably better for me personally - weeds out some of the competition.

[alottieluv]

mdni. established relationship, fem!reader, public fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, basically porn w no plot. prob unedited and unfinished.

bakugou and his girlfriend are almost never seen together out in public, and when they are, it's a paparazzi field day.

being a pro-hero is tiring, exhausting, and humbling to say the least. bakugou never liked having to take to the media just to begrudgingly satisfy a growing fanbase, and he never will, because there's crazy fans, and on top of that, are his fans.

so you can imagine their reaction to your first leaked photo together, blurry but more than enough to say that their beloved dynamight was taken.

let's just hope the few photos out in the world with the two of you together are enough to stoke the fire, lest one day you wake up to an article of your boyfriend publicly fucking you in the changing rooms of a lingerie store.

you only called him in for a second opinion, wondering if the color suited the tone of your skin as you drag the curtain over to cover you. though it wouldn't have matter since he'd have said yes regardless, too distracted by you.

"w-wait, katsuki."

katsuki folds your legs to your chest, his hips pressing yours as you lay across the bench of the changing room. you can feel him through his pants and the very thin material of the panties you were trying on. "we can't. someone might see, and we can't get it dirty."

you watch katsuki's eyes trail down your body, decorated in thin straps lined with lace. the sight makes him sigh and groan to himself under the noise of bustling crowds in the store. "can't baby. you look so good right now." quietly, he starts pressing kisses to your neck, caring less about leaving a mark or two, and ruts his hips against yours.

you let out a sigh, feeling the panties dampen with your arousal. you call for him, whispering lowly into his ear before he lets go of one of your thighs to undo his belt. he pulls away to catch your lips in his, giving soft pecks when he finally pulls himself out.

"pull 'em aside for me, baby." you hum and tug at the panties to push them aside, watching him align himself. he lets the underside of his length drag against your cunt first, grinding against you to let your juices mix before you feel his blunt tip poking at your entrance.

the stretch of his thick cock stings, only able to grip the edge of the bench before you let out a strained whine. katsuki muffles your moans in a kiss, distracting you until you feel him bottom out. he lets out a groan into your mouth, your walls clenching down on him, they almost push him out.

"you're so tight, need to move so I can stretch you out." he looks at you and you nod, the stinging pain dissolving into thoughtless pleasure as he starts to slowly thrust in and out. his thrusts grow to a steady pace, producing a quiet smack every time your hips meet.

"excuse me, is everything okay in there?" you gasp, looking at katsuki who only smirks at you. he doesn't plan on slowing down now. he whispers in your ear, "go on and answer them, baby. remember to speak up."

you open your mouth, readying yourself to answer when you feel his tip prod at your gummy spot. you start to moan until you cup your hand over your mouth, cutting yourself off. "hello? are you okay?" quickly, you answer but just as you do, katsuki starts to thrust faster, almost to the rhythm of the heels as they walk away.

you can feel his cock inside you, dragging against your walls and poking at your sweet spot. you feel yourself tighten around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. the employee probably knew what was going on, the smacking of your hips and the squelching sound of your pussy undeniable.

"i-i'm close," you moan, pushing your hips against his to meet his thrusts before you're pushed over the edge. your release is audible from his thrusts, pushing impossibly further into you before you feel his cum fill your cunt, dripping from the sides of your pussy where his cock is still buried.

he grunts, stomach relaxing as he pulls out. you watch as beads of cum slowly drip down his length to join the creamy ring of white at the base of his cock. all the while, he eyes the gush of your cunt, drooling with his cum.

“yeah, i think we should buy this one.”

[roosterbruiser]

Bob and AdmiralsDaughter!Reader where the dagger squad finds out he's dating/engaged/married (whichever)

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 @bradshawsbitch 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱!!!

𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬

𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

"Yeah, the little white one is Pearl," you excitedly tell the Dagger Squad as you scroll through the photos of your newest foster kittens. "And the little brown tabby is Poppy!"

You're leaning over a table in the training room, grinning ear-to-ear as you show off the billion pictures you've taken of the sweet little kittens that have been consuming your life.

The squad is doing everything in their power to show interest in the photos, swallowing yawns and making over-exaggerated nodding motions when you turn to look for their approval. It isn't just that they love you and genuinely wouldn't want to seem uninterested in something so important to you, but it's also that your dad could have their heads mounted on the walls if they so much as upset you.

You're a Simpson--Cyclone's only daughter and youngest child--but you couldn't be more opposite of your father. You're a bubbly person by nature, someone who could talk to a brick wall. You're the kind of person that could ruin their favorite jeans and still somehow have a good day.

Rooster and Phoenix have their arms crossed as you scroll through the endless pictures, one blurry picture of a little kitten to the next. But they adore you--you're grinning so big that you could light up a dark room. So they keep watching, smiling and nodding.

Bob's watching from across the room very subtly. At this point, the two of you have mastered subtly. As much as he wishes he could be one of the people that crowds around you to look at kitten pictures, he knows that he wouldn't be able to help himself from getting a little too close to you. He doesn't think he'd be able to stop himself from pecking your cheek or wrapping his arm around your waist. So he doesn't go out of his way to be overly affectionate to you when he sees you around on base, which is often. He's Bob, which means he's overtly polite and overly-nice, and he treats you the same as he'd treat anyone else on base. But it's these little stolen glances that keeps him going throughout the day--just ticking the minutes until the day is over and he can go home to you and your kittens. There he can do whatever he damn well pleases with you without having to worry about prying eyes.

"Oh, and just look at this video I got of Poppy..." you laugh, scrolling quickly through your camera roll in search of a video of Poppy trying to climb the sofa.

Your heart jumps in your throat when you pass the picture. It's quick, really, just a fleeting image across your screen. But you know what it is: it's the picture you took of Bob napping with the kittens the other day. It's unmistakably Bob, too, despite his stubble and un-gelled hair. You're praying no one else saw it, praying that everyone's lost interest by now.

But you have six of some of the world's greatest Fighter Pilots around you, watching your phone with their eagle-eyes. Nothing really gets past them.

"Wait," Hangman interrupts, pointing to the phone with furrowed brows. "Go back."

The rest of the squad makes a sound of agreement and you try to stutter something back, something that resembles an excuse, but then Rooster is reaching out himself and swiping back through the photos.

The chorus of gasps that fill the room draw Bob out of his trance. He looks away from where your fingers are curled around your phone and sees that all six of his squad-mates are staring at him with their jaws slacked and their eyes wide. Except Hangman--no, he's grinning ear-to-ear. You're already looking at Bob, too, apologetically grimacing and mouthing I'm so sorry to him.

"Bob Floyd," Phoenix starts lowly, glancing down at the picture again. Her voice is stained with disbelief--how could she have missed you and Bob? She loved both of you so much and Hell, she even trusted Bob with her life. How could she have not known before?

"You sly, sly dog," Coyote says, grinning, clapping you on the shoulder.

"Simpson's daughter?" Fanboy adds, like you aren't standing right there. "Floyd, you animal!"

What the squadron doesn't know is that your father is actually quite fond of Bob--he even insists that Bob call him Beau. They've shared a couple glasses of good scotch and Simpson has even invited Bob to play golf a couple of Sunday's. Really, your relationship is only a secret from the squadron--and you feel vindicated for making that decision as you watch all of them scramble to pat Bob on the shoulder.

"Well, I'll be damned," Rooster whistles with an impressed grin, squeezing your arm. "You and Bobby Floyd."

You're blushing something fierce, watching as Bob flushes at all the sudden attention, not confident enough to stand while the boys ruffle his hair.

"Guess the cat's out of the bag," Bob finally manages to say, laughing dryly at his poorly-timed pun.

Payback grins at you.

"You're a lucky lady, aren't you?"

The truth is you are a lucky lady. You and Bob have been together for longer than any of the squadron would ever guess, carefully tip-toeing around base when you see each other to not draw attention to situation. Bob makes your coffee every morning and you adopt kittens together. You iron Bob's uniform because you used to do it for your father and you think Bob is just as important. You dance on sunlit porches and share good wine with your family on Saturday nights after big dinners. Bob's the best person you've ever met.

And Bob knows that really, he's the lucky one here. Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to the world--period. You're funny, like the kind of funny that has him laughing before the sun's even come up and he didn't think that was possible. You still get excited every time he comes home, racing to the foyer and smashing your lips against his as you chatter about your day and help him unlace his boots. You're the kind of person that will bottle-feed kittens every two hours and not so much as complain about it, not even when the feedings are at three in the morning.

The two of you are totally and completely in love--you have been for a while. But, yes, Bob's right: the cat is out of the bag now.

"I am a lucky lady," you tell Payback, locking your phone and making your way over to Bob with a sweet, sweet smile.

here is my tag list!!

𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐊𝐨𝐟𝐢 ☺

[owlwithanapple]

The Bat with love❤️‍🔥👄

Content : Kissing/Romance/Before in love…

Characters : Bruce Wayne x Y/N

The Chapter of Bruce Wayne reveal his face in front of Y/N.

You were so satisfied with the book signing and sales of your new work. Even Bruce Wayne himself came to scene and take photos with you. Today, you in a particularly good mood. You took out a bottle of good wine celebrate for yourself. You took a glass and poured some wine into it. Turned on the music to make the room full of life. Took the glass and poured the wine into your mouth, drinking it over and over again until you drunk. The feeling of being tipsy after drinking is really fascinating. You fell on the bed and stared at the ceiling in a daze.

You are already drunk and unable to extricate yourself and mind is blurred. With blurry eyes, you see the figure of someone standing by the bed. You vaguely see the person is Batman, the hero of Gotham City. What's going on today? So many surprises. You drunkenly pointed at him and said a bunch of messy words like a silly girl, "Batman~ Good things happened today~ I'm so fucking proud~ That Bruce Wayne is actually my fan~"

"Then?" His voice was so low and quiet.

"And then that was all~ Haha~ I just wanted talk to you~" You couldn't drink much because easy get drunk just a few drinks. The feeling of being tipsy and the heat rising in your body so fucking wonderful. When you wanted to continue talking nonsense, your sweet lips were touched by a surprise kiss. The surprise kiss was a gift from Batman. You held his face looked at him affectionately from a close distance. He didn't avoid your sight and touch, and a ripple of smile appeared on your face.

"Bad boy~ What do you mean by kissing me~" You are so drunk can't take back the silly smile on face. Your fingers stroke his face to his sexy lips. A warm passion hits you and gently rub his lips. The quiet room allows you to hear heartbeat and breathing. You don't understand why he wants to kiss you, but you just want to put your lips on his charming lips again.

He kissed the fingers on his lips again as if to seduce you. How drunk are you? How can the feeling on your body be so real? Until now, you still can't believe the scene in front of you. Are you expecting something from him? He moves closer to you and you move your fingers away from his lips. What a real, beautiful, false and pure feeling. The drunken feeling ignites the hot passion and lust in your heart, which has overflowed in your heart.

You looked at him in a daze. His face was covered so couldn't see, but he had sexy lips. You flirted and asked, "What would you do if I kissed you?"

"You can try it." He said indifferently.

You pull his face closer and pecked his lips. You pulled back and laughed like it was a joke. When you thought it was over, he kissed you agai without hesitation. You closed your eyes make yourself enjoy the kiss he brought more. You hugged his neck to make your kiss sweeter and more intimate. The charm of his male hormones attracted you, his tall and strong figure really fascinated you.

After he left your lips, you stared at him and smiled, "Your lips are so sweet."

"Hmph." He just hummed and nothing more.

You couldn't resist the temptation he brought. Every cell in body was dominated by him. A few simple kisses enough to make your heart beat. How long have you not felt this way? The drunken feeling plus his mysterious temptation made you extremely excited and fascinated. You never experienced such a mysterious and romantic experience, and never longed for a man so much. Even not love, at least can bring you a collision of intense pleasure.

"Batman~ Do you like me~ Hahaha~" You hugged his neck and talked nonsense like a spoiled child.

Without saying a word, he picked you up with his strong hands. He took out the grapple gun aimed at the distant direction shot it taking you away with him. You closed your eyes and buried your head in his chest. The two of you landed in a high place. He saw you leaning on his chest and breathing quietly. He stroked your soft and cute face, you opened your confused eyes and looked at him with a little touch.

You held his face asked hazily, "Bat bat batman～Where are you taking me?"

"A quiet place." His eyes were still looking at you.

You lean on him with peace of mind, and he holds you in arms. At this moment, the two of you have nothing to say just leaning on each other. You feel completely safe because of his uniqueness. He wears a mask but smiles at the corners of his mouth. The night wind in Gotham City is cool and pleasant, his cloak covers you to prevent from catching a cold. He is serious but graceful. Fortunately, you have the courage to stay by his side now because of drunkenness.

You run your fingers from his mask down to his lips and then touch it, hinting to him that you want a kiss from him "Hey~ Batman~ Are you sweet?~"

He grabbed your wrist didn't let your hand leave his lips. He kissed your fingers then your wrist until your arm went up bit by bit. He was exploring your body step by step, finally stopped when got close to your face. You felt his breath on your face. When you thought he was going to kiss you again, he stopped and a smile appeared on his lips. "You are so beautiful and charming when you are drunk."

His sweet love words made you irresistible. You smiled foolishly for a while and took the initiative to get closer to him. You were almost kissing him. "I am always charming~ You just don't see it~"

"Hmph." He just sighed and looked away.

You put your hand on his face again turn him to look at you. You don't want to wait quietly like this. You want his embrace and warmth. You two have kissed each other's lips countless times. The atmosphere has been lingering in ambiguity. You two don't say much love words just enjoy the pleasure brought by the intimate contact at the moment. The unclear relationship is puzzling and fascinating. You two accept this ambiguous relationship and give up a love that truly belongs to you.

"Batman~Are you my admirer~" With the courage brought by the wine, you pursue the love in his heart more boldly.

After saying this, his attitude changed, his eyes stayed on your lips more firmly. Although you were in a state of sensory confusion, you could feel the hand holding you tightened. The hand on his face slowly moved to the back of his neck and hugged him. You swallowed the saliva in your mouth looked at him. You selfishly wanted to get more from him, whether it was love or friendship, people were so greedy that they wanted to have everything with a little hope.

"Yes. I am. It's you who fascinated me so much until I can't fall asleep." Don't know if it's true or not, just know this sentence touched your heart. You didn't care about so much, you took the initiative to leave a deep mark on his lips. He responded to your emotional appeal with a deep kiss, his sweet and sexy kiss was simply beautiful. But the good times didn't last long, the drunken feeling made you feel sleepy and couldn't stand it. You indulged in his passionate embrace and kiss until you fell asleep.

After he left your lips, he left a sweet kiss on your forehead before caressing your face "Wait for me, I will definitely hold you in my arms. Have a good dream, my love."

Around ten o'clock in the morning -

You woke up from a beautiful dream full of love, and the sunlight outside seemed so warm in the room. You stroked your head found you were not feeling the discomfort after drinking. Got out of bed and saw a silver-black Batarang stuck on the table. It was one of Batman's weapons. You covered your face in shock. You doubted whether the beautiful dream yesterday was true. You picked up the weapon stuck on the table and it was real.

Suddenly phone rang, you answered the call in panic and nervously. The voice of your assistant came from inside, "Ms. Y/N, you are already an hour and a half late, when you come to work?"

You looked at the clock on the wall. The dream was so damn good that you slept late. "Fuck, I'll be there in a minute."

"Hurry up, someone waiting in studio for you more than an hour."

"Who the hell?!" She hung up before you could even ask.

Various strange and unexpected phenomena happened one after another. You thought about the Batarang in your hand for a long time couldn't figure it out. You no choice but to wait for Batman to appear for a clear explanation. You hurriedly took off clothes ran into the bathroom to wash body before going out. Damn, you are late. Now have to go to the studio quickly. Don’t know which unknown person waiting for you for more than an hour. You passed by a coffee shop on the way and bought something as apology.

After a while, you finally arrived at the door of the studio. You noticed a dark black car outside the studio but didn’t pay much attention to it. You were holding a bag with three cups of hot coffee in your hand. You stood outside the door take a breath and calm down before opening the door. As soon as you stepped in, your assistant rushed towards you, and you were so scared that almost couldn’t hold the things in hand.

"You're finally here! I thought you were dead!" Your assistant nags at you.

You hand her the coffee, "Okay, okay, this is for you, shut up. I'll take care of the rest, in my office?"

She takes a sip of coffee to calm down and nods like crazy, you a little nervous who that person is. After your assistant leaves, you stand front door of the office, hands are shaking but still turn the doorknob and walk in. You see a man sitting on a chair with his back to you, he has a tall and strong body, a closer look reveals the watch on his hand is a super expensive model. You walk to the desk put the coffee down, then walk to him and apologize to him, when you see his face, it was Bruce Wayne.

"Mr. Wayne? Why are you here?" You a little nervous.

He has a confident smile on face. "I came to see you. Can I take up your time to talk for a few minutes?"

You nodded immediately and handed him the coffee then sat down. "Of course. You can call me directly... Don't have to wait for me to waste precious time."

He took a sip of coffee and smiled at you. "I am happy to."

You are a little confused but smiled. "So what do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about you." He put down the coffee and clenched his hands.

You pointed at your face. "Me? What can I talk about?"

"I want know you. For example, what do you like to do, what flowers do you like, or... something else... I want to know more about you." He smiled proudly.

You exhaled, something didn't understand again. You straightened your back with a calm attitude. "Is this a work-related issue?"

He shook his head and smiled, "I didn't say about business."

You were even more confused. You crossed your hands under chest and leaned back in the chair, "I'm boring and not to your taste."

He took the coffee from your hand and put it to his mouth to drink. You stood up looked at him with a shocked and shy expression. He took a sip and licked his lips, which made you feel tempted. He pulled you to sit on his lap. You wanted to stand up but he held you tightly, with no intention of letting go. He returned your coffee to you, you held it carefully. Your face was very close to his, he felt very satisfied with your nervous and shy look, a smirk hung on his face to express his satisfaction.

He licked his lips and grinned, "Coffee is sweet."

You clearly ordered espresso, how can it be sweet? You take a sip and it tastes bitter. Wait, he drank your coffee before, now you drink it too, and you two are kissing indirectly. You understand his intention, he is trying to tease your heart in a sentimental way, "Mr. Wayne, you have a bad taste~ How can you taste sweet coffee?"

"Because it's yours." He said in a flirtatious tone.

"You haven't tasted my sweetness." You put the coffee aside, put one hand on his shoulder, and gently pulled his tie with the other hand.

He moved his hand on your waist a little bit, and moved other free hand to your chin pull you closer, "I've tried it, many times, addictive sweetness."

You grabbed his hand on your chin, every word he said was ambiguous and passionate. You asked curiously, "Have you tried it? When?"

"Several nights." He said.

You got close to his face and looked at the handsome and charming face. "I spent the night with you? Why don't I remember which night?"

"Is my Batarang on the table at your house?"

You covered your mouth with hands in shock, and forgot to blink your eyes. "You... fuck..."

His and Batman's figures kept appearing in mind, with no similarities but full of same charm. Everything in this world is always unpredictable and can't imagine it, including who this man in front of you is. You stood up and took a few steps back. It was really hard to believe they were the same person. Bruce Wayne, the person you admired very much in career. Batman, who stood up to protect you when you were in danger, were the same person.

As many nights when alone with Batman as there were times of love. The number of times you two kissed, how deep and how long the kissed, were deeply imprinted in your mind and unforgettable memories. You once told yourself it didn't matter just a vague comfort in the relationship, your heart had already been completely taken away by Batman.

You took a few steps back leaned against the table and fell into a blank, your heartbeat accelerated and lost the motivation to think. You recalled every memory had Bruce Wayne's figure, it was his lips kissing you, his hands holding you tightly, his calm personality made you like him, you couldn't look directly at him and chose to turn your back to him.

You heard the sound of chair moving, and stood behind you. He wrote his phone number on a piece of paper and put on the table, "I'll wait for you."

He left your office after leaving this sentence, his back was a little sad and lost. You held the paper tightly and thought about what to do in your mind. You no longer hesitated took the paper and chased after him. You saw his car was about to drive away, you rushed over block his car. He immediately stopped and got out quickly, you walked in front of him and returned the note to him. You said chokingly, "I want to see him, my room."

Late at night -

You curled up in the corner of the room, looking out the window never saw him appear. A trace of sleepiness came over you, and slowly closed your eyes. Perhaps you were too tired to think about too many things today. After a while, you felt someone touching your hair, you opened eyes see it was Batman in your room. But this time he took off his mask in front of you, and finally saw his true face, it was really Bruce Wayne. He gently stroked your face with his hand, as if waiting for your response.

"Hey, it's really you." You stare at him, enjoying being touched by him.

You see him approaching, you close your eyes and let him kiss your forehead. "It's me. I am Bruce Wayne, and I am also Batman."

"Why me?" You are calm and expectant.

"Love at first sight." His answer so clear and concise.

How many kisses have made you two more obsessed with each other, how many words can fill each other's hearts, you look at him with a smile "So? What do you want?"

"Do you want have a passionate love with me? Not as Bruce Wayne and Batman, but as my everything."

You pulled him over gave him a kiss on the lips, he held your face and responded with a deep kiss. You put your arms around his neck sat on his thighs, welcoming every kiss of his passionately and romantically. Even can't breathe, you want to keep kissing him, his sweet lips are so irresistible. He stroked his hand from your back down to your hips. You took the initiative put his hand on your thigh till reaching for your private parts.

Suddenly his communicator rang, and heard Nightwing's call for help. In desperation, he had to choose to rescue, you got out of bed, opened the window and stood aside. After he put on the mask, looked at you again, you laughing at his speechless expression, "It seems to taste the sweetness, you have to wait~"

He hugged you and said, "You haven't given me an answer yet."

You smiled with a naughty and cute look, "You already knew the answer."

"I want to hear it from you."

You put hands on his chest stood on your feet, leaving a sweet kiss and licking his lips, "Let's talk about it next time, Batman~"

He kissed your cheek and moved slowly until he licked your neck, making you moan shyly. This feeling was fucking addictive. He left kiss marks on you and kissed it deeply. The love between two of you gradually deepened, no longer expressed with a little kiss. It has entered a deeper realm, only the two of you deserve such a passionate feeling. "Remember to close the window." He left after leaving this sentence.

You stroked the kiss marks and saliva he left, many beautiful scenes emerged in your mind. You leaned on the window looked at his back as he left. How strong he was. You were intoxicated by the love and pleasure given by Batman, but combined with Bruce Wayne. He said the passionate love indeed worth looking forward to. But it seemed boring to accept his love directly. Or you had to play with him for a few rounds of romantic time. Recalling the beautiful moments, you felt extremely shy, both sides of cheeks felt hot.

—The End—

🖤Like and Reblog to motivate me🖤

AO3 Heroes In Love by owlwithanapple

[cy-lindric]

I wanted to vent, but also ask an honest question. Since I was a teenager, I always wanted to work on character design. And one thing that always caught my attention was how I always preferred male character designs over female ones. My first thought was that I was always more into androgynous fashion and more masculine styles. But time passed and I came to the conclusion that it wasn't just that, and it seems that male characters can always be different things: fat, thin, handsome, ugly, short, tall, young, old, etc. and female characters, for the most part, fall into two categories: cute or sexy. I wanted some tips on how I can make female characters with more interesting designs, without having to fall into those two categories. I love your work and you managed to make someone else like the three musketeers <3<3

Hello ! That's definitely a good question and something I think about a lot. The bias towards beauty is very strong in character design and it takes a conscious effort to diversify output in that regard.

That sort of advice might be a bit obvious, but one habit I picked up from the director on my first feature film gig was to actually "cast" characters. Without reference, we tend to go for the kind of symmetrical face and "average" features mostly out of stylistic habit. I like to look at character actors with distinct faces (I like this pinterest page that has a lot of faces in one place) but also just acquaintances or pictures of random crowds.

When designing a character, at first I'm always building a big reference board trying to decide what Type of Guy (gender neutral) I'm going for, trying use photos rather than other people's art, because I want to rely on automatics and graphic symbols as little as possible. Whether I'm designing a man or a woman or other, I use references of fashion styles and people across the board in terms of gender so I keep the scope open. Sometimes a character ref board for me will be a picture of one of my aunts next to a bunch of screenshots of Columbo. In my experience, a lot of the times, it's mostly about going with styles and archetypes the same way you would for a male character, and switching it up somewhere along the way by looking at real women in your life and beyond as a grounding mechanism. Sometimes that will mean changing almost nothing, because the borders between genders and how you characterize them is blurry and fluid, and sometimes it will mean using features that are uniquely tied to some sort of female experience.

I enjoy realism and I think getting more proficient at it did help me diversify my designs (I find that more difficult to do with more minimalistic styles). Still, I am mostly a fantasy artist and in my case that comes with some amount of stylization and idealization of shapes and looks. I'm far from perfect in my biases and I'm not going out of my way to draw "ugly" characters because that doesn't mean much to me ; I try to draw inspiration from the faces of every day people and I associate it with my love for fashion. It's also worth noting the work I post here for fun is a lot more hash tag aesthetic than the stuff I do professionally where diversity is much more important.

I don't know if any of that is relevant but that's definitely an interesting topic ! I'd love to know others' perspective and tips on the matter.

[quinnysnursery]

Can you do a little!matt x fem!cg!reader? 🩵🩵

[🩹] stressful week recovery | matt sturniolo one-shot

paring : little!matt sturniolo x cg!fem!reader

summary : after a stressful week, matt's girlfriend knows just what her little one needs !

warning/extra tid-bits : Matt and his CG are in a romantic relationship outside of being a little and caregiver but this still does not make age regression sexual, y/n used (sorry guys its inevitable sometimes😿)

word count : 2,423

divider credit : MEEE c: i made it using canva guys!!

a/n : save me monkey jellycat i saw at the store today....save me... (sorry for any typos ! i'm just a girl !)

Friday, 8:10 pm.

Matt let out a loud sigh as he finally let his head hit his pillows, his entire body relaxing into the plush mattress. Closing his eyes and letting out yet another exhausted breath, Matt recounted the week he'd endured.

On Monday, Chris woke him up screaming they were missing footage and Nick needed it to wrap up the video. Tuesday, he was supposed to drive Chris to a dentist appointment and everything was going fine until...a simple flat tire caused Matt to make Chris late, which Chris wouldn't let go of for the remainder of the week.

Wednesday, they filmed. The familiar nickname of "Miserable Matt" returned...which sucked. Matt wasn't miserable, he wasn't even annoyed by his brothers at first. He was just overstimulated, the leather seats of the car too uncomfortable, the car too hot but the AC too loud. It was unbearable....maybe even miserable.

Thursday started out good. He ran a few errands with Nick and Chris, who still insisted that Matt intentionally made him late for his dentist appointment. That didn't matter though, because he was just joking....hopefully. Thursday was going so well in fact, that he decided he would take some instagram photos with the help of Chris.

Well, apparently Chris thought it would be so funny to intentionally make each photo blurry to some degree. "If I can be late to a dentist appointment, you can survive with one less photo on your feed." He teased as Matt held back frustrated tears the entire way back.

Today, Friday, was probably the easiest of all. He spent the entire day attempting to de-stress. He had to film yet another video, but this one was easier as Chris seemed to finally let the damn dentist grudge go. That's what led him to now, laying on his bed with a blaring headache as the stress of the week caught up to him. The yelling from Monday, the week-long teasing…the blurry photos.

Everything just felt too loud. Too loud, or too bright. Too big.

Shit.

Everything felt too big. Matt felt small, little.

Groaning, Matt evaluated his options. His brothers knew mildly of his regression, but there was no way in hell he was going to ask them for help. Not now.

He didn’t even necessarily want to bother his girlfriend/caregiver right now but this regression was coming on strong and there was no way Matt would be able to handle it on his own. 

As if on cue, the familiar sound of your text tone went off on his nightstand. Quickly sitting up and scrambling for his phone, Matt read your message through teary eyes.

‘mommy🤍: hey hun!! were we still on for that movie marathon? x’

Shit. In the hell-spiral that had been this week Matt completely forgot he agreed to a movie marathon with you. Chewing his lip anxiously, Matt typed out a response.

‘matty💙 : really sorry, i don't think i can. had a really bad week, i don't know if i can drive over :(’

It took less than a moment for a reply to come back.

‘mommy🤍: be ready in 20, bring your littlespace bag’

A smile managed to form on the brunette's face. Matt took a few more moments to calm himself down, the familiar fuzzy feeling beginning to become even more prominent on his mind.

“Not yet.” He thought to himself as he stood up carefully, grabbing the bag out from his closet. He took in front of his open closet for a few moments before deciding to change into a looser fitting t-shirt and sweats.

Matt sat back down on the edge of his bed, checking his phone once more even though he knew you'd be at least another 10 minutes.

Friday, 9:00 pm.

‘mommy🤍: in the driveway, need me to come get you baby?'

‘matty💙 : i can do it'

‘matty💙 : not little yet.'

Matt began trudging downstairs with his backpack cast over his shoulder, he was just gonna slip out the front door and avoid having to explain to his brothers why he was going to spend the weekend at his girlfriend's hous-

"Matt!" Chris called, peeking his head over the couch. God dammit. Matt turned on his heels, flashing a fake smile to both his brothers. "Where are you heading off too in the night?" Nick joked, "Kid looks like batman." Chris added with a laugh.

"Mysterious Matt." Both Nick and Chris agreed before bursting into laughter. Matt had to remind himself to take deep breaths to avoid crying once again. His brothers were just joking around with him, he was just sensitive.

He wanted to just slip out the front door, hurry across the driveway, slide into your car and let you take charge. He just wanted to regress.

“Uhm…(Y/N)’s picking me up.” Matt swallowed, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I'm staying the weekend." He added, reaching for the doorknob.

"Okay, loverboy." Nick said, Matt rolled his eyes at the old joke. The middle triplet stood awkwardly for a moment, the silence being interrupted by Matt's phone going off.

‘mommy🤍: everything okay?'

Smiling at the message, Matt bid his brothers a goodbye before shutting the door closed behind him. Matt smiled, the fuzzy feeling weighing down on his brain even more as he opened the passenger side door.

"Hey baby!" You smiled, "Look who I brought!" You reached behind you. You took a moment before pulling out Matt's beloved pug stuffed animal he'd left behind a few weeks ago, Mr.Wrinkleton.

A smile instantly formed on Matt's face as he quickly buckled his seatbelt, placing his backpack in front of him. "Mr.Wrinkleton!" The boy beamed, no longer feeling the need to fight off the obvious signs he was regressing.

Ruffling his hair, you put the car in park and began the drive to your home.

For the most part, Matt was silent. Only occasionally whispering something to Mr.Wrinkleton or pointing at something on the side of the road.

"Do you want mama to make you something? Or do you want something else?" You asked, turning down the soft indie music that was playing through the car speakers. Matt paused for a moment, thinking to himself.

"....grilled 'eese?" The brunette asked, looking over at you. "P'ease mama?" The puppy-dog eyes were now in full-effect. You smiled, glancing over at your boy, "Does Mr.Wrinkleton want a grilled cheese too?" You asked, "He can't have grilled 'eese! He's a pug!" The boy giggled.

Friday, 9:40 pm.

"One grilled cheese for Matt." You hummed, placing the plastic bear-shaped plate down on your kitchen island.

"No crust!" Matt beamed as he noticed you'd sliced the edges of the sandwich off. You nodded, wrinkling up your nose with a smile. "I cut it off, just for you." You tapped his nose playfully. "Do you think Mr.Wrinkleton would want the crust?" You asked, revealing a small blue bowl of bread crust from behind you.

Matt giggled and nodded enthusiastically, "Mhm!!".

Smiling, you place the plush dog in front of the blue bowl. "Eat your food angel, bedtime soon." You said, brushing his hair away from his face.

While Matt ate his grilled cheese, you silently snuck the pieces of bread from Mr.Wrinkleton's bowl into your mouth. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable quiet.

"Chris was bein' mean..." Matt mumbled, leaning into your arm. You quickly took your hand away from Mr.Wrinkleton's bowl as you turned your attention to your little.

"Really? What was he saying sweetheart?" You asked, snaking your arm around his lower torso and pulling him closer.

"Kept sayin' I made him late to th-the dentist on purpose..." Matt mumbled, his feelings quite obviously still hurt from Chris' comments.

"Oh honey..." You cooed as you felt Matt's tears trickle down his face and begin to dampen your shirt sleeve.

"A-And I didn't mean too! M' had to change the tire all by m'self!" Matt cried, abandoning his mostly-eaten sandwich to reach for your grasp.

Standing up, you gently led Matt to the couch allowing the two of you to collapse onto the cushions. Matt instantly scrambled onto your lap, curling into you.

"Shhh, I'm here. Just let it out." You soothed, wrapping your arms around your little, playing with the back of his hair. Matt cried, whimpering out a few more words about "blurry photos 'n lost footage".

You made a mental note to ask Matt about those things when he was no longer regressed.

"Mama's here....I've got you." You reassure, kissing the top of the brunette's head before he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

The two of you stayed like that for an hour. Matt unleashing the stress of his week through tears and you whispering reassuring words into his ear as you played with his hair.

Eventually though, Matt's tears turned to sniffles and sniffles turned to hiccups, which eventually turned to snores.

You carefully slid out from under him, taking a couch pillow from behind you and placing it under his head. You quietly went to your room, snatching the softest blanket you owned off your bed before returning to the living room and throwing it over your baby boy.

"Shhh, just relax baby." You soothed as Matt stirred in his sleep. Quickly, you grabbed Mr.Wrinkleton from the kitchen counter and his pacifier from his backpack.

Crouching in front of Matt, you softly tucked the pug stuffed animal under his arm before bringing the paci to his lips. Matt's eyes were still filled with sleep as they cracked open, "It's your paci, baby." You explained, a sleepy smile appeared on Matt's face before he accepted the pacifier, snuggling further into his covers.

You let out a content sigh once you were sure he was asleep once again, the gentle sounds of breathing and suckling noise from Matt's paci filling the room.

Saturday, 2:30 am.

"Mommy?" Matt called, peeking into your dark room. You awoke from your sleep, quickly turning to face the door and clicking a light on.

"What's going on angel? Something wrong?" You ask, rubbing your sleep-ridden eyes. Matt shook his head before sheepishly looking down at his feet.

You smiled, realizing what Matt was too nervous to ask. "C'mon," You called, opening up your blanket. Matt let out a small squeal, before climbing into bed and snuggling into your frame.

You let your boy get comfortable before beginning to play with his hair, both of you enjoying the safety of each other's presence. Just as you were about to let sleep take over once again, you heard a small murmur come from a half-asleep Matt.

"M' love you mama."

[ingravinoveritas]

craftyballoonwinner mentioned you on a post "anna always got to prove to us she still got her…”

I can't wait for @nightgoodomens and @ingravinoveritas takes on today. Something happened and while I'm happy to not have GM around the fact it was MS&DT ALL night makes my eyebrows raise.

@craftyballoonwinner It has taken me the last few days to process everything that happened on Friday, because to say that I am floored by what we got is a tremendous understatement.

We knew that Michael had been in London and had specifically gotten a house in Chiswick close to David's house since November of last year, for his run in Nye at the National Theatre. We knew that the second run in Cardiff ended on June 1st and that as soon as it did, Michael immediately came back to London. We knew that--schedules and work/family commitments allowing--they were likely spending a great deal of time together (despite only seeing three pictures of them over the course of that entire interval: The Macbeth photo, the blurry pic that Anna posted back in November, and the photo from Lapland last December).

The smallest pieces, flashes of something beautiful and bright yet still obscured, ensconced from public view. So much so that I never in a million years expected Michael to come to Pub in the Park--hoped, certainly, but the thought of it actually happening seemed like a distant dream, a dazzling impossibility.

But this past Friday was just...so extraordinary and lovely precisely because it was ordinary. It wasn't a press junket or an interview or Michael and David promoting something...it was just them. The two of them together, basking in the warmth of each other's presence. It was there even in the first picture I saw, and it permeated through every clip, every moment of them at the event:

The smiles. The ease and comfort they have around each other. The effortless love that just exists between Michael and David, and that is tangible in every dimension, as much on a screen as in real life. And when they were on stage together, it wasn't even that they played off each other so well--it was that Michael's last minute appearance didn't cause either of them to lose so much as a step. It was that you just knew that they couldn't have put any other two people up on that stage without prior planning and had that same chemistry, that charm and familiarity. And it was just so damn wonderful to see Michael and David looking so happy and joyful overall.

As for what happened with Georgia, I am just more confused than anything else. For the last month and a half, Georgia heavily promoted PitP, and both she and David billed her as a co-host. Every flyer, every piece of promotion that was shared (both by the PitP social media and Georgia) mentioned her as a co-host, along with David. She even did an interview on the Gaby Roslin podcast with David and Arabella Weir where she was again specifically referred to as a co-host and admitted not knowing her own Instagram handle, as well as saying that she would be active on Insta during the PitP event.

There is a strange irony to the podcast as well, given that David actually said "We're failing our hosting duties right here!" in the above linked clip, and what seemed like a joke at the time actually came to pass. For whatever reason, Georgia failed in her duty, the job that she signed up to do. Had it been because of all the attacks that David was a target of over the past week after the blow-up with Kemi Badenoch, Rishi Sunak, and the entire Tory party, that would have made sense. I would have completely understood if Georgia, who had also been targeted in those attacks, was feeling anxious or worried about her/the kids' safety and elected to stay home instead.

However...Georgia didn't stay home. She actually was at the event, as were several of their kids (Ty and Olive, from what I've seen). She was there, drinking and dancing, and somehow that made her abdication of co-hosting duty even more conspicuous and strange. It also makes it increasingly obvious that Michael's appearance on stage was a last minute occurrence and not part of the original plan of events.

So what actually happened? I don't know. None of us know, and it's likely we won't know until a later time, if ever. But in the real world, if you are given a job to do, if a contract is signed with a written agreement to do that job and you don't do the job, there are consequences. At the very least, it can negatively affect someone's reputation and reduce the likelihood of them receiving offers for future jobs. On the other end, you could be looking at potential lawsuits for things like breach of contract. And none of this even gets into disappointed fans or attendees who might've been hoping to see Georgia host and who could possibly now claim to be victims of false advertising because she didn't.

It also feels like a huge missed opportunity on the part of PitP, who could have potentially raised hundreds or even thousands of pounds more for charity had Michael been booked as a co-host, or even a guest. Regardless of whether Michael was there in an official capacity, though, I am just glad that he was there, and that we got to see the two of them together again.

The night may have lacked the glitz and formal glamour of the NTAs, but it more than made up for it with the relaxed domesticity we got to see between Michael and David. And now that Michael is hanging around London a bit longer, hopefully there will be many more memorable nights like this to come.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Natalia V

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Talia finally does it

It's not a big diamond but it's not exactly small either.

It's understated, Magda supposes. The picture of it looks kind of blurry but she can tell it's beautiful.

It's the most nervous Magda's ever seen Natalia. Talia's always had this confidence, a slight arrogance that followed her every move but she's withdrawn a little now, almost nervous as she displays a photo of the ring.

"It's not ready yet," She says," I'm getting shaped to fit her finger properly."

For once, Magda is speechless in Natalia Guijarro's company. You've been with her for a few years now so Magda is used to Talia's presence. She'd even go as far as to say Talia is part of the family.

But this would make it official.

"Talia," Pernille says, clutching Magda's hand and looking close to tears," Really?"

"I..." Talia's throat bobs. "I love your daughter with all my heart and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. As my wife." Her eyes dance between Magda and Pernille. "Do I have your permission?"

Pernille nods but that was a given. Pernille has always loved Talia, always been so sure that Talia was good for you.

Magda's the challenge though and all three of them know it.

You're Magda's little girl, the little baby she had once held in her arms and wept over. She's always been trying to hold onto that part of you, the tiny child that complained about wearing her Chelsea shirt and got stolen from her every time she went to camp.

Magda stands and Talia almost folds into herself as she stares up at the older woman.

"You want to marry my daughter?"

"Yes."

"Good," Magda says, holding her hand out for Talia to shake," Because I can't think of anyone I would want to marry my daughter apart from you."

Talia picks up the ring with Magda on the breakfast run she promised you, opening and closing the case anxiously.

"She's going to say yes," Magda says.

"You don't know that."

"I do. She's crazy for you."

"She could do better."

Magda hums. "No, she couldn't."

The ring feels heavy in Talia's pocket for the weeks after she picks it up, waiting for the right time to get down on one knee to propose to you.

There's been so many opportunities but she just hasn't take it yet.

Patri's been calling her a coward, telling her that everyone already knows what you're going to say so it's not nearly as tense at Talia thinks it's going to be.

But, still, the ring goes everywhere with her and none of the chances are nearly perfect enough for this moment.

Snow falls heavily in Sweden, beating against the window as you sit in front of Pernille like you did when you were little, letting her pull it back into an elaborate braid.

There's groans from outside the front door and the scraping of shovels.

Pernille sighs. "I keep telling your Morsa to shovel the driveway after it's finished snowing. I don't know why she always insists on doing it whilst it's happening."

"I can't believe she's gotten Talia out there with her. She hates the snow."

Pernille laughs a little bit, twisting a strand of your hair neatly. "You know those two. Always competing."

"I don't think Morsa understands she's not as fit as she used to be."

"Don't tell her that. Magda thinks she's just as fit as she always was. She pretends that she doesn't get back pain."

You giggle a little bit and Pernille ties off your braid.

The front door opens and neither Magda nor Talia stops to say hello as they stalk from the front garden to the back garden, dragging in a big box through the house.

Pernille sighs, drawing the curtains closed, a hint of a smile on her face.

"What was that?"

She shrugs, lying straight to your face," I don't know. Magda must have ordered something for the garden again."

The sound of drills and hammers sound in the backyard and you turn to go look but Pernille shepherds you upstairs.

"I left you something on your bed," She tells you," Do you mind changing into it? I put some shoes there too."

You frown. "I'm an adult now. I don't need you buying me clothes."

"Humour me, princesse, and go change."

It's a simple dress which makes you frown.

Pernille usually buys you things like jackets and jumpers to keep you warm. A dress is different but not unwelcome.

It's nice. It fits well and the shoes are comfortable too.

You glance at yourself in the mirror, checking the fit. With the way Pernille's done your hair, you look beautiful.

You can't help the small smile that appears on your face.

You don't really get dressed up a lot, happy in your comfortable tracksuit bottoms and an oversized shirt but this outfit makes you feel a little bit giddy as you head down the stairs to show Pernille.

She's not there though and you duck into several rooms in confusion but she's nowhere to be found.

The curtains looking into the back garden have been drawn back though and you spot Talia standing under a wooden arch that definitely wasn't there this morning.

You step outside, the snow falling softly as you walk up the path to her.

She sucks in a stuttered breath as you approach.

"You...You look beautiful."

You glance down bashfully. "What are you doing out here? You hate the cold."

Talia laughs a little nervously, hands behind her back. "I was waiting for you."

"You could have been waiting a while."

"I would have waited however long it took."

You glance around. "What's going on?"

"Oh, god...I...I had a speech but I think I've forgotten it all."

You frown. "Talia, I'm confused."

"I promise I had a speech. When I remember it, I'll definitely tell you but...As of right now, all I can do is this."

Talia gets down on one knee.

"Will you marry me?"

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 3

Part 1|Part 2

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

I'm not entirely happy with this, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. Some things will probably be changed for the Ao3 version, this is very much first draft and I want to do a proper rewrite before then.

Jason parked his bike next to the Batmobile. There was a strange air in the Batcave or maybe it was just him being different. He couldn’t tell for sure. He stepped off the bike so he had his back towards Bruce, who sat by the Batcomputer with his cowl off. Jason could still feel his gaze when he looked up. He didn’t know what to feel. Where was he supposed to start?

“Little Wing!” Dick announced happily, suddenly slinging an arm across his shoulder from behind. It was only all his training that stopped him from jumping three feet into the air from the fright and he managed to just tense - but that was normal. Dick would consider that normal. Pull yourself together, Jason, he scolded himself. Normal, act normal, for one long moment he was grasping for what was normal. It definitely wasn’t the urge to lean into his big brother.

“Jay?” Dick asked quietly, worried, thankfully too quiet for anyone to hear. Panic grasped him and he elbowed Dick to get him off. Dick bent over with an oomph. At least elbowing Dick was a normal response, even if it was for the wrong reason.

Ignoring the strange urge to check on Dick, he squared his shoulders, firmly didn’t look back and walked forward towards the Batcomputer, where now that he had arrived the rest of this night’s patrol team gathered. Damian already out of his suit with damp hair and a towel slung around his neck glanced surreptitiously at Jason out the corner of his eyes even as he pretended to look towards Bruce - brat was still worried. Tim was curled up in an office chair doing who knew what with his laptop in a way that did not seem conducive to the healing of the broken ribs he’d been benched for. Bruce himself, paused what he was doing and spun around in his chair. Even sitting he managed to draw everyone’s attention, Tim even closed his laptop.

Jason purposefully crossed his arms and widened his stance. That’s what they expected of him, probably? How did he usually stand? He usually always felt one wrong comment away from a fight when he was here, he should stand like he expected it, right? Defensive.

This was exhausting.

At last Dick walked up to them completing their loose circle. He was rubbing his side and Jason felt a stab of worry and guilt. Had he aggravated an existing wound? Shit. Fuck. What was wrong with him? Why was he so worried?

“Oracle,” Bruce spoke, “please start.”

“Thanks to Hood, we now have a better headshot of the thief,” Oracle announced from the computer speakers“The Ghost,” Dick interjected in a sing song voice, “after what happened tonight you can’t disagree.”“Nightwing,” Barbara replied flatly, she didn’t even need to say she thought it was a stupid name. “The thief,” she reiterated in a way that left no room for any other arguments and Dick wisely held his silence. At least Dick knew Barbara well enough when to stop. Finally she pulled two photos up on the large screen. The one on the right was an older/early photo with the green glassed goggles obstructing much of the upper half of the face, a grin was a sharp line of white on the lower half of the face in the blurry photo, the quality was terrible and caught in movement.

The newer photo on the left showed a young man, maybe even late teens, eyes were wide, bright green, not quite glowing and his face beet red in embarrassment, mouth slightly open - this was taken just after he’d pushed away from Jason. His goggles sat at the edge of his messy black hair, just high enough to see the way he was beginning to swell on his forehead where Jason had clocked him.

Jason looked from one picture to the other, something was off to him. The grin was an obvious difference, but these where snapped in very different moments, and he shouldn’t let different emotions cloud his judgment.

“He’s lost weight.” The realization hit him with the certainty of a sledgehammer.

There’s dubious mumbling around him, about the blurriness of the first picture. But Jason is unmoved, there’s a hollowness to the guy’s cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“We can’t really judge that sort of thing with the quality of the first image,” Barbara cut through the murmurs. Jason knows he right, but he doesn’t feel like arguing.

He doesn’t feel like arguing, it’s another realization that leaves him wrong footed and he’s not listening for a minute. Checking back into the conversation he only caught the tail end of the conversation that was apparently about the Meta’s skills.“-we can now add phase shifting powers-““Like a Ghost.”

Tim groaned and Barbara outright growled - Jason reevaluated his earlier thought that Dick knew Barbara’s limits. Damian had already accepted the logic and Bruce had long since become immune to this sort of Dick antic.

“Back on topic,” was all he said. “Tim.”

Tim opened his laptop back up.

“Yes, so the items the thief-” There was a small beat as everyone waited for Dick to interrupt, Tim was side-eyeing him but continued; “-is stealing are still painting a very alarming picture, and there is a multitude of very dangerous uses, not to mention what kind of world ending horror they could be built into. Luckily he didn’t get the prototype spectral calibrator tonight, and we’ll be keeping it here for the time being and set the project on an indefinite hold at Wayne Enterprise.”Tim looked up at Bruce. “We’ll be needing to monitor Star Labs as they have a similar project, but so far the Ghost has not operated outside of Gotham to our knowledge.”

Bruce nodded, “I’ll arrange something.”

It was a signal for Tim to continue, “we’re still no closer to a way to capture him and the phase shifting is a whole other added concern. We’ll need to figure out if there’s something he can’t phase through, some denser materials perhaps. I just finished looking through tonight’s footage and from what I’m seeing at least the new filter program is holding up; both the audio and visuals have very few glitches now. But we still don’t know how he’s sending out the electromagnetic interference.”

“Ghoooost,” Dick said quietly under his breath.Tim’s left eye twitched dangerously. Jason couldn’t help smiling, it was very good he was wearing the helmet. Bruce once more ignored Dick looking to Damian.The kid straightened imperceptibly at the attention, it really was adorable, but his voice was as haughty as ever. “Blood sample is already being analyzed of course, tt.” Blood sample? Oh, that’s what Bruce had been doing on the roof, when Jason was distracted. A sick feeling rose in his stomach thinking of the blood, was Ghost even alive? He could be bleeding inside the head for all they knew.

“Hood,” Bruce asked quietly, “do you know why the Ghost reacted to you like that?”Jason stiffened. Fear grabbing cold onto his heart. There was no way he could tell them he thought it had to do with the pits. They’d think Jason was being influenced by the Ghost and bench him. He couldn’t let that happen, he needed answers. He didn’t need to fight his family.

“No damn clue,” he scoffed, hoping he sounded nonchalant and none of his panic shone through, “some weird trauma response? He’d just hit his head real good.”

Bruce looked at him dubiously, but he was clearly unwilling to risk pushing. Their truce was a tentative one after all, one they’d come to after many false starts and stops. Jason had never before been so glad for their tattered relationship.

“So to conclude,” Dick drew everyone’s attention off Jason, “the Ghost is still a mystery, we don’t know if he’s just a thief or a supervillain biding his time.”

“He’s not a supervillain.” Jason could have cursed himself, he’d just gotten their attention off him. Now he was forced to elaborate. “He’s not wearing any sort of body armor, just that hoodie.”

And he’d definitely broken some of his ribs landing on him, Jason thought with a pang of guilt.

“Not all villains wear body armor though,” Tim pointed out carefully, and now Tim was worried too, Jason had no clue what had given him away.

“The ones who engage in close combat with us usually do though,” Dick returned, and Jason could have hugged him for bailing him out again (if that had been normal, which it was NOT).

“He could just not be a very good villain?”

“Or he’s just banking on the fact that he’s very good at dodging,” Barbara interjected with annoyance before the discussion got out of hand, “or did you all just forget you’ve been chasing this guy for weeks without landing a substantial hit on him?” She could always be counted on to be the voice of reason.

Dick scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Tim looked down at his computer. Damian scoffed, trying to look unaffected but that was definitely almost a pout.

Bruce’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he stood up and was that almost a smile? How was this happening? It felt… His fingers dug into his arms. It felt like all the things Jason had convinced himself had never really been there. And there was Bruce’s hand landing on Damian’s shoulder; a silent comfort-encouragement, because Bruce was terrible with words but his touches always spoke volumes. And as the small smile bloomed on Damian’s face and he quickly looked away to hide it, Jason remembered exactly how that felt. Shit.

“Oracle, that’s all for tonight, we’re not getting anywhere without more information.”

“You got it, B, Oracle out.”

Jason spun and stalked towards his bike, before he did something, he didn’t know what exactly.

“Jay?”

Bruce’s voice stopped him in place. He glanced over his shoulder to see them all watching him. Don’t give anything away, he scolded himself.

“What is it, old man?” Jason asked trying to interject as much annoyance into his voice as he could, but it was so hard dredging up any of that when they looked at him worried like that, and his chest ached and he just sounded tired.

“It’s late,” Bruce said with a small unconscious wave of his hand as if anyone could tell the time of day from within the cave, “you could stay the night?”

After a beat he added, “Alfred would love to see you.”

Jason’s jaw clenched. Alfred would, but that’s not what Bruce was really saying, he was saying he would love to have him stay, but didn’t think Jason would be receptive to that and so he brought out the Alfred card. It was plain as day and how had Jason never seen that? Seen the longing on his dad’s face? His chest ached, he knew why. He was always so busy reading everything Bruce did as him trying to control him, every interaction tinted in green. His chest ached. Every inch of his body wanted to stay, to take a step back, see where this could lead, but he couldn’t.

He had to act normal. Normal Jason would never. Normal Jason could be back tomorrow for all he knew. He couldn’t do that to any of them, to himself.

With great difficulty he tore his gaze away from his family and walked the last steps over to his bike.

“Tell Alfred I’ll be coming over for tea on Tuesday,” he said loudly over the noise of his bike, not looking, because he didn’t want to see any of their reactions, then he tore out of there.

This was better for everyone.

Poor Jay really is having the time of it, maybe next part he'll get to actually enjoy not being angry.

next Masterpost for subscription link

[junipvelt]

VN Update

Ok, here's a more in-depth look at the visual novel (still a WIP) since the last post was too short. Bunch of dev stuff + in-progress screenshots below the cut.

CGs so far:

(still working on these + the car one + the bgs ;-;)

Some of the bgs might just be blurry polarized irl photos (kind of like og higurashi), I'm not drawing more backgrounds than I have to.

Graphic design (is my passion):

(the cursor cycles between different pairings and the default anti-centrism ball depending on what you hover over/which screen you're on)

Misc. :

I've got the general story + scenes already mapped out but writing and coding everything might take a while (aiming for a ~10k word script?, currently have 2.5k). Hoping to have something playable by Q2 2024 (This originally said March lol).

QnA

q: how done is it?

a: ~30%

q : plot summary?

a: You (the player but also just Me) fall asleep while studying and hang out w/ the extremists and watch them bicker with each other. It's all a dream,, or is it?? (very clever meta writing)

q: can I help with development? :3

a: I'm hoarding all the creative control, it's all mine. (sorry). Playing it when I finally get around to releasing a build + adding some feedback would already be more than enough help. :]

q: why make this at all?

a: (what no friends does to mf) I thought It'd be fun to work on! I got into centricide around mid-2020 and while I thought I left it behind.. idk my obsession with it is back now I guess. (real answer: authunity. I'm not even joking those two are my only reason for doing any of this.) also I just genuinely like visual novels as a medium (massive weeb).

[siriuslymooned]

Price just closes his eyes when his phone dings. He checks the ID and sees it's a photo from you. He smiles to himself but decides to open it in the morning. You were most likely out with your girls and sending blurry selfies in your drunken state.

And then came a text. And another. And another. A string of texts.

"Jesus, you better be dying."

A whole strings of texts came in and then an abrupt stop. Anxious, Price opens the text thread and begins slowly making his way up.

What clown of a person decided that a rhyme EASILY FORGOTTEN AND TO MESS UP was the best way to pass along that information!!

Liquor before wine isn't even clever. Or true. Remember my birthday?

Is it yellow before red or yellow after red that your dead.

And then the weird snake one.

STUPID

Liquor before Wine or Liquor after Wine you'll be fine.

You saw. Didn't you?

JOHN!

John?

Please tell me you didn't look.

Did you know pigs have thirty minute orgasms?

Oh and that blue dress!

Green.

Yellow.

He smiled to himself. He still wasn't sure what was going on but he knew that blue dress. He thought about you in it. A lot. Often in shower.

Who decided the little black dress was sexiest? I look better in brighter colors.

*anyone

I'm never sending anything anything ever again

Please dont look

Shit

Shit

Shit

Fuck

sorry sorry sorry

That wasn't for you

Oh fuck

NOOOOO

[IMAGE]

On his phone waited an unopened photo by his bestfriend who had spent the last few minutes begging him not to open it.

The anticipation and curiosity almost won. He wanted to see what you were so worked up over. Something embarrassing or...

Ding!

John?

He let out a sigh, highlighting the image and deleting it. He then replied to your frenzy.

Don't worry, doll. Photo's been deleted and I didn't look.

Ding!

Thank fuck!

Ding!

Last thing I need is a nude going to the wrong person. Sorry if I woke you up. Gnight. Luv ya!!

A WHAT?!

MASTERLIST