#mapped like actual DICK and ASS

[goatskickin]

I WOULD retexture objects again, but I just really hate everything thing about the process of doing it

[devotedlystrangewizard]

at first i considered engage to be one of the more strategic harder fire emblems (and compared to three houses it definitely is but thats a low bar) but no. its power fantasy. currently my main powerhouse is ivy + soren. they obliterate everything that dares to not have high resistance. wyvern rider? one shot. high def unit? one shot. everyone does decent damage at this point but for a unit i wrote off as a unit i only put on the field because i like her at first.

[deadsetobsessions]

Some night, he flew above the twinkling lights of Blüdhaven’s buildings, wind rushing through his hair and the feeling of weightlessness pushing at the curve of his back.

There were a multitude of things that Dick Grayson appreciated, loved, Bruce for. One of those things would always be that his adopted dad allowed him to fly once more, even after his parents’ wings were cut.

In the air, he was home.

In the air, Dick Grayson felt like he was living up to, flying alongside, the Flying Graysons. Every flip, every trick he used to go faster, to fight better, felt like his parents were there guiding his every move.

Time healed his hurt, but still, the hole in his heart remained.

So when one of his best friends, a ghost vigilante by the name Phantom, asked him if he wanted to see his parents, he froze like a deer in bright white headlights.

“What…?”

Phantom did a flip in midair. “Wanna see your parents? They’ve been asking if they could talk to you.”

“My parents… are ghosts?” That was the least pressing question he had right now, but it was all his mouth could speak.

“Kind of. It’s complicated,” Phantom side-eyed him. “It would require going into the zone.”

And just like that, Dick understood. After the Amity Park came onto the map and the Justice League fixed the human and alien and meta rights violations that were happening right under their nose, Phantom had permanently closed all access to the Zone. Save, of course, for himself and a few magic users, who all refused to anger the King of the Dead.

“The only way you’re getting to my people now, is through me. Should anyone try to get into the zone, without my permission… I will make sure that you and your family’s afterlives will pay the appropriate price.”

No-one wanted to test his threat. The afterlife is something few fucked with and came back whole.

The Phantom they’d seen on the news then was incredibly different than the one in front of him now. Dick knows, understands now, that it was because Phantom trusted him. After years of being denied help, years of struggling all by himself to keep reality from collapsing while avoiding getting experimented on by humans understandably closed his heart.

“You’d take me into the Zone?” Dick didn’t know what he was feeling. Hope, fear, trust, touched, happiness, something.

A lot of things.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah. I trust you,” he said as he glanced back at Dick-at Nightwing. “Only you, though. No one else.”

The question that remained was whether Dick trusted Phantom too. And considering the fact that the ghost king ironically saved his ass from being killed a couple of times meant, “Yeah. I- I’d love to.”

Danny smiled, all pointed teeth and solemn trust. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Now?!” Dick stood up anyways, his heart in his throat. Danny held out a gloved hand.

“Yeah, now. Haven’t you heard that death waits for no one?” At Dick’s concerned look, Danny added, “Don’t worry. You won’t actually die. You’ll come back whole and alive, I promise.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go, then!”

——

Clark Kent threw himself out of the window, Superman suit already on.

Seonds later, he was hovering in front of Bruce’s shadowy form on top of a gargoyle.

“Clark,” Batman greeted in his gravelly voice, irritated. “What.”

“Batman, Nightwing’s heartbeat- it disappeared!”

Bruce’s heartbeat stuttered.

[echobx]

husband & business man!Rafe hcs

◆ he'll be coming home from some dumb golf game or something boring and it was so annoying that he has to let it all out by fucking you into subdrop

◆ and then he'll be all sweet after peppering you with kisses to bring you back to reality

◆ but the first time it happened he was actually scared that he hurt you and kept rambling, like "shit baby, I didn't think that was even a real thing. you good? can I keep going or do you need a break?"

◆ and he's never been good at aftercare, but he gets into it and somehow it's incredibly fulfilling to carry you around after and wash you and put you in your favorite pjs so you can sleep and regain your strength

◆ and the morning after he'll make you breakfast in bed and shower you with compliments of how good you were to him the night before

◆ and that rhythm repeats once or twice a month because that's just how his work life is

◆ and he's a busy man, so every time he leaves for a project somewhere else he drags you with him because "we gotta get a scratch away map and scratch off all the countries I made you cum at least five times in a row"

◆ and although he's a doggy kinda guy, he's not appalled by doing a little missionary once in a while because you look so pretty when you cry because his dick is just that huge

◆ and he'll kiss away the tears and tell you to not be such a little bitch about it and just take it like a good girl

◆ and you'll nod, because who are you to argue with him over it because you know he's right

◆ still the tiny fight just always gets him to fuck you a little harder every time you do it

◆ he'd say shit like "gonna fill you up and get you pregnant like a slut" but he's also the one who made you get on birth control, so you know he doesn't actually mean it

◆ but he does mean it when he says he wants to make a little tape in case you can one day not go with him on a trip so the both of you have something to work with

◆ and you do it and it's not bad but not very good either but he doesn't care at all bc "look at that, such a pretty pussy taking all of me. god, you sound pathetic when I fuck you, baby. I love it."

◆ he'd tell you to get your nipples pierced but you refuse at first bc that shit hurts but he keeps saying it and once you do it he acts all surprised "oh baby, you really shouldn't have. that's the best birthday gift ever."

◆ ofc he pays for your manicures and for every little thing. but especially the manicures bc god damn he loves it when you scratch him like a wild animal

◆ he loves showing you off too, especially to his friends who still don't understand how you got him to settle down

◆ and he'll be a real ass over it too, telling Topper and Kelce to look at how hot you are

◆ and the first time round they actually did look at you, but just a bit too long for his taste and then he threatened them and they know him well enough to be actually scared

◆ and you're so sweet and bubbly and he's always looking at you

◆ especially when your eyes are fixed on some other girl who keeps eyeing him and he knows you could tear her to pieces if he let you

◆ the thing is, you know he only wants you, you know there's no real threat, but it still makes your blood boil to know that they think they have a chance

◆ sometimes you even let him fuck you right in front of them, like that one time at a party in a hot tub

◆ and he'd never deny your wish to show off how good he is at fucking you

◆ but once you get back home he makes sure that you remember that he is the one in control

◆ and you'll babble on and on about how you can't take it anymore but you both know it's a lie so he keeps railing into you until you squeeze him so hard that he sees stars

◆ and every time it ends the same, with the two of you cuddling and him showering with "I love you's" and whispered musings, telling you "if I hadn't already married you I'd do it again and again"

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

[purple-worm]

i know that folks from the west are not easily giving into support for palestine because “well israeli civilians dont deserve to die, stop being a dick by cheering for this”

and listen. we understand that very well. we cannot cheer for innocent people losing their lives. but we wouldnt BE here today if this were something that could have been sorted out over a negotiation

netanyahu just last week, w a disgusting ass smug face made it clear at the UN GA that he was redrawing the map of the middle east. he was literally there with a board and a marker pen, shamelessly redrawing a map of israel over palestine. people fucking clapped. there is video footage, goo look at it.

and that’s just what the west is seeing. what the west has been conveniently ignoring, or worse, supporting, is the apartheid in palestine for the past 100 years. what is happening in israel today, theyve been doing exactly that and Worse for a century in palestine.

any both sides argument misses the fucking point because it ignores a whole history of how theyve fucked over the palestinian people. not just outright killing their people but also stealing land and resources and redirecting them to the israeli cause.

but the west doesn’t actually give a fuck about arab countries or its people, in fact actively funds genocide. so eat your shitass opinion about not celebrating the one time palestinians have managed to look like a threat.

as hopeful as we are, we know israel is too powerful and has the west as its ally. but this is what palestinian journalist had to say about it “they have decided to fight and die on their feet, rather than just die on their knees”

another journalist reporting from gaza said “well the people in gaza are used to airstrikes of this kind so they have a standard protocol on how to evacuate and know when to give up, and go down together as a family”

let the enormity of those statements sink in, and then maybe you can fucking talk about both sides.

[mediumgayitalian]

The slam of his car door is loud enough to make him jump, echoing across the dipping valleys and proud hills. He curses to himself, standing frozen, one, two, three, four, but no one comes running. A light dusting of snow falls in a perfect circle around an invisible border, and Lee shivers as he jogs over to it, worn sneakers squelching over the wet, half-thawed grass.

As soon as he steps onto the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, he feels the difference, the balmy breath of warm summer under the clear December sky. The power of Thalia’s tree sends its usual shiver down his back, and he touches it, briefly, as he speeds past, sending his usual prayer of thanks. He pauses at the crest of the hill, using the bright gibbous moon to survey the camp, marking his path.

“Two, four….twelve,” he mutters to himself, craning his neck to map every one of the patrol harpies. He crouches for a while, watching them, tracking their patrol: paired, hexagonal, staggered circuits around the cabins. Four minute window of opportunity.

He can do four minutes.

As the two harpies walking the Apollo-Artemis circuit begin to cross the common, Lee bolts. He keeps low and close to the shadows, sprinting fast and on the balls of his feet to stay quiet, and ducks behind whatever shadow is closest whenever something looks his way. By the time the harpies turn back towards Cabin Seven, he’s already on the rickety porch, tossing his backpack inside the window Michael left open for him and throwing himself in after it.

He lands palms-first, tucking into a roll to absorb the momentum. He freezes, panting, by the leg of what is usually Amir’s bed, straining to hear past the crickets and cicadas.

One, two, three, four.

Nothing.

He’s good.

“Took your damn sweet time, didn’t you.”

“Hello to you too,” Lee grumbles, pushing himself upright. From across the cabin, lounging on his bed like a goddamn French monarch, is his dick of a brother, grinning like the little shit he is. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, most people say hello, et cetera, et cetera.”

Michael shrugs. “You’re late. I watched you on the hill; you coulda made that run twenty minutes ago.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“I’m always asking me.”

“Get over her, boogerbrain.”

“Real mature,” Michael mocks, but ambles over anyway. He retches like a twelve year old when Lee hugs him, but twists his hands in the back of Lee’s shirt when he lets go too fast. Lee hides his smile in his over-gelled hair.

“You might miss me less if you actually write me letters, you know.”

“I didn’t miss you,” he responds automatically. “And I wouldn’t have to write you letters if you stayed home, already.”

Lee sighs. “…I have school, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure your dumbass bio teachers have loads to teach the guy who can do open heart surgery with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah, yeah. If anyone could do with a good, old-fashioned, public school humbling, it would be you, hothead. You ready to go?”

Michael pulls away with a roll of his eyes. “Only since yesterday. Been waiting for your sorry ass.”

“My sorry — your sorry ass doesn’t have a car!”

Michael snickers, jogging back to his bunk and grabbing the black duffel bag resting under it. Lee makes quick work of packing his own bag, stuffing in a couple squares of ambrosia and and giant roll of bandages, just in case, before creeping over to the only bed left with someone still in it.

“Hey, kiddo.” He folds over the sheet pulled all the way over messy blonde curls, immediately plaguing the cabin with loud snoring. He rests his palm over a sleep-creased cheek, mapping his thumb over the freckles dotting pudgy cheekbones, and brushes back the hair plastered to his baby brother’s forehead. “Will, sweetheart, get up.”

It takes him a couple minutes of gentle prodding — when Will is out he is out — to wake up, squinting blearily in the dim fairy lights strewn across his bunk. He blinks, one, two, three, four, then gasps.

“Lee!”

“Oof,” Lee grunts, shifting his weight as he is abruptly accosted with an armful of child. He smiles, curling around Will’s flailing, chattering form, tightening his hold on his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. “Hi, buddy.”

“—missed you so much! Is this why your letter was late? Are you staying? Is this why Diana left yesterday? Is she here now? Is Cass coming? Is everybody coming? Can I —”

“C’mon, Motormouth,” Michael interrupts, cuffing Will’s ear as he walks by. “Go get your sneakers on. We’re going for a drive.”

“‘Kay,” Will days happily, dashing off to find the light-up Star Wars shoes he refuses to throw out, even though there are literal holes in the soles.

“You got his bag?”

“Yep,” Michael affirms, holding up a straining backpack. “Toothbrush. Hairbrush that he won’t use. Three comic books. Change of clothes. And two more changes of clothes for when he inevitably destroys the first one,” he adds when Lee opens his mouth. He shoots him an exasperated look. “Me and Diana have been chasing after the little brat for four months, dude. I got him.”

“Alright, alright,” Lee grumbles. “Heaven forbid I double-check.” He turns over to the door, where Will is tying his shoelaces, tongue peeking out of his mouth. “You ready, Will?”

He tugs on the two loops. The entire knot unravels. Quick as a flash, he stuffs the laces inside his shoes, scrambling to his feet.

“Yes,” he lies. He scratches at his throat.

Lee and Michel sigh in unison.

Luckily, the reaction is hardly more than itchy eyes and a cough. Lee herds him towards the door, sliding the backpack over his shoulders and holding out his arm and —

“Hold on a sec.”

“Why?” Will whispers.

“Shh,” Lee says.

Window cracked open, Michael exhales. The release of his bow hardly makes more than a soft hiss.

The angle is odd, limited space as there is, but Michael never misses — the clunky arrow whistles through the open window, sailing past the sloped roofs of the west wing cabins, and thunks somewhere behind the first layer of trees in the forest. Immediately, it lets loose a burst of sound identical to a dropped bottle and a group of teenagers cursing. In seconds, the curfew harpies are screeching, descending upon the source of the noise with the fury of a thousand sun chariots.

“Go go go go go,” Michael orders, wrenching open the door.

Will, immediately, takes off, gleeful at the opportunity to run away with permission (usually, he’s running from one of them, screeching at him to get back here). (Or Chiron, although Chiron has a much easier time catching up, what with the six limbs and all). (…Is Chiron an insect? Technically?)

“How long do we have?” Lee whispers, once Michael has caught up.

He shrugs. “Seven minutes, give or take? More than enough time.”

Lee worries his bottom lip. “More than…” He glances at the forest. Vaguely, in the low firelight, he can see the odd wing, hear the odd screech. Nothing looks very close. He glances at the rapidly approaching Athena cabin, just a few yards out of their way. Hm.

“Detour!” he decides. “Will, c’mon!”

Ignoring Michael’s hissed complaints, he veers towards to neatly maintained cabin. He slips in the space between Cabins Six and Four, holding tight to Will’s hand. He counts the windows as he passes — one, two, three, four — and stumbles to a stop, crouching down in the dirt.

“Oh, are you — for the love of Zeus.”

Lee ignores his eye-rolling, scanning the ground for pebbles. He selects a handful of them, careful not to choose anything too big, and jogs a few steps back.

“What’re you doing?” Will asks, too loud, but at least he tries to whisper.

Instead of answering, Lee launches the first pebble at the window.

It pings off harmlessly.

Waiting a breath for the harpies to come running, he continues, firing off pebble after pebble with increasing strength. Finally, after pebble #7, a face appears behind the clear glass, bleary eyes widening when they take in the sight in front of them. Quickly, the latches are undone, and the window is yanked open.

“Lee?!”

Lee grins. “Hey, Carter.”

“What’re you — you’re — it’s December! What’s going —”

“I need a favour,” Lee whispers. “Can you — cover for us?”

For the first time, Carter looks away, brows raising as he notices Micheal, who taps his (watchless) wrist obnoxiously, and Will, who waves brightly. Carter waves back, small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cover for you?”

“Just, like, infirmary stuff. I don’t think anything will happen, and if it does we’re an IM away, but —”

“Lee,” Carter says exasperatedly, “cover you guys for what?”

“Oh.” Lee clears his throat. “I, um. I need to do something for my family.”

Smiling, Carter rests his elbows on the windowsill, chin in his hands. “Mysterious.”

“We’ll be back by tomorrow evening,” Lee assures.

“And then you’ll stay for a bit?”

Lee’s mouth goes dry. “You want me to stay?”

Carter ducks his head, fingers tracing a mindless path on the windowsill. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you for a while.”

A thousand gods of prophecy could not predict the sound that comes out of Lee’s throat.

Something between a whimper and an awkward laugh, his voice cracks four seperate times. Carter giggles. Lee prays, genuinely, that a crater opens up beneath him and drops him right at Lord Hades’ feet.

“Everything okay, Lee?”

“Peachy,” he croaks.

Carter giggles again. Lee flushes. Michael gags exaggeratedly behind him, pausing mid-heave to whisper something to Will, and then there’s a giggle, and then two people fake-retching. Carter peeks through his dark eyelashes, pleased expression softening his heart-shaped face, and Lee counts twelve of his own capillaries straight-up explode.

“Well,” he says, too loudly. “I’m — well.”

“I think you have harpies to run from,” Carter suggests gently.

“Indeed.” Lee clears his throat, nodding. “As you have so astutely observed, we do —”

Michael, recognising the strained tone to his voice, groans. “Fucksake, Lee —”

“— and so I bid you adieu —”

“Dude, oh my gods, snap out of it —”

Lee can’t. He barely has control over his own mouth.

“— and vow to see you again in the eve.”

Feeling his soul exit his body, settle in front of him, and then crumple up and die, Lee fucking bows. There is the very distinctive sound of a hand slapping over a mouth, muffling an eruption of giggles, and then the hand of mercy, also known as Michael Yew, clamping on the back of his lava-hot neck.

“Please excuse him,” he says grandly. “He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s normal, usually.”

“Except when you wear your glasses,” Will pipes up. Lee makes a mental note to find Clarisse’s spear and shove it through his own eye. “He gets real weird when you wear your glasses. Once he walked into a wall and broke his nose.”

“…Did he.”

“Yep. And last time he —”

“God, this hurts me to say,” whispers Michael, “but I have to put a stop to this conversation. We’re on a time limit. C’mon, Will. Bye, Carter. Sorry for — well, you know. Apollonian dramatics, not always easy to control.”

He turns, dragging Lee, still hunched over, out of the Cabin Six shadow.

Lee does not un-hunch until they are well over the crest of Half-Blood Hill, harpy screeches beginning to echo behind them.

“I have never been more embarrassed to be related to you in my life,” Michael informs him, the second he’s upright. “Like, genuinely, I’m considering disowning you. That was atrocious, Fletcher. You need to get ahold of yourself. Where is your game? Your dignity?”

“I think he lost it when he was born,” Will says thoughtfully. “Or maybe when Carter smiled at him the first time.”

“I hate both of you,” Lee croaks.

Neither of them seem too incredibly bothered, snickering to each other as they duck into the car.

Willing his flush to go down, Lee herds them into his car. He takes a moment in the cool air to chill the hell out, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, then slips behind the wheel. He checks that Will is belted in properly, slips the car into neutral, and coasts down the road, waiting until Thalia’s tree slips out of sight before turning it on and hitting the gas.

“Where’re we goin’?

“You,” Michael says, flipping down the vanity mirror to glare sternly at Will, “are going to dreamland. It’s three in the morning. Time for bratty children to sleep.”

“What? No! I’m not tired!”

“Fine, fine,” Lee says, exchanging a grin with Michael. “Stay awake, then. As long as you like.”

Will narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“No trick?”

Lee crosses his fingers. “‘Course not.”

“Fine,” he relents. He settles into the booster seat Lee dragged out of the trunk for him (which he hates), arms crossed over his chest, and stares out the window.

Counting off on his fingers — one, two, three, four — Lee and Michael begin to hum.

At first, nothing happens. Will taps absentmindedly on his knees, humming along to the parts he knows, but soon his fingers slow. Lee and Michael keep it low and quiet, cycling through quiet folk songs Michael’s dad taught him, matching with the rumbling of the car, the slight breeze of Lee’s cracked open window. Michael kicks softly at the base of his seat, one, two, three, four; and matches the rhythm of the radio static, the click of the blinkers on every turn.

Will’s out in twenty minutes.

———

The drive is long.

Michael curls up sometime around four, fogging up the windows with every snore. Lee keeps the radio on a low hum, letting the background noise keep him focused as he navigates. The Atlantic Ocean is ink-black in the early morning, and the waves crash loud enough that he can hear them over the sounds of the engine, and for a while they’re still far enough from the city that the air smells fresh. Even when it starts to sour, and the noise gets a lot more urban, it’s early enough and he’s east enough that the traffic is minimal. Never non-existent — he actually cannot imagine what a traffic-less New York would look like; he doubts he’ll ever live to see it — but enough that he keeps at a steady 35.

The drive through Jersey is uneventful. Farmland and suburbs, nothing he hasn’t seen every day of his life, nothing he didn’t see the last time he made the drive. He entertains himself by counting every brown car he sees, randomly wagering the number by the time he gets there. He’s relieved when he finally crosses the memorial bridge, driving down the exit ramp and pulling into the first big parking lot he sees. Michael wakes up as he puts the car in gear, killing the engine.

“We here?” he asks, popping the joints along his spine.

Lee yawns. “Pretty much, yeah. Pulled off the highway.”

“‘Kay.” He glances in the backseat, where Will is starting to stir. “You nap. I’m gonna find a place for him to change and brush his teeth, maybe get breakfast for all of us.”

“Sounds good”

He crawls in the backseat as Michael guides Will out of it, accepting the blanket tossed his way. He slides his hoodie over his face, lies back, and conks out in minutes.

———

“Yo, Lee. Get up. I got food.”

“Timizzit?” he asks, shaking the grogginess from his limbs.

“Eleven. You slept for four hours. We gotta be at the theatre in an hour.”

“When’s she on?”

“Fuck if I know, man. Diana said noon, I’m gonna be there at noon. You wanna piss off Diana?”

“No.” He rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, reaching blindly in the direction of Michael’s voice. “Food, please.”

A bag of grease is deposited into his waiting hand. He is pleased to find three cheeseburgers within it, and immediately tears into them with a fervour that can only be described as ‘ravenous’, or perhaps ‘revolting’. Esurient, perhaps, if one was feeling poetic.

Finally awake enough to function, Lee looks critically at the scene in front of him. Michael is dressed in the same button-up and slacks he wears to his dad’s performances, on the years he’s in the U.S., and Will is in jeans without grass stains, real shoes, hair mostly brushed. Michael has even managed to find a shirt that’s not half-unraveled from Will picking at the seams.

“Nice,” he says, nodding in approval.

Michael picks at his nails, visibly preening. “Oh, it was no big deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dweeb.”

He polishes off his last burger, then ducks inside the nearest store to find somewhere to get changed. Diana told them it didn’t matter, really, what they wore, but Lee knows better. He knows what this means for Cass, and while yeah, sure, it wouldn’t really matter if he showed up in sweatpants, he wants to show her that he put in the effort. That even if her mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, they will. All of them. He wants her to see them and know that they did this for her. He wants her to see them and know that they tried, that they care.

Hair perfectly placed and clothes as unwrinkled as he can get them, he hurries back to the car. The theatre isn’t far, and they have a little under an hour, but he doesn’t want to push it. Finding parking will be hard enough.

“Are we on a quest?” Will asks, five minutes out on the road.

“Eight year olds don’t go on quests.”

“Diomedes was ten when he fought the Trojan war.”

“Are you Diomedes?”

“No.”

“Are you ten?”

“No.”

“Then no quests for you.”

“Aw.”

“Your quest can be being quiet for twenty minutes,” Michael grumbles, making a face when Will sticks his tongue out at him.

———

part two

[punkeropercyjackson]

Please tell me how Duke,Cass and Stephanie getting nonstop left out of Batfam content isn't because of antiblackness,racialized misogyny and a mix of gender essentialism,classism and ableism.When none of you can shut the fuck up about how 'black haired and blue eyed male is the only requirement for a Batkid!' and go as far as to include 'pale/fair skinned' sometimes when Damian and Dick are brownskin in multiple versions because of being brown in heritage and Damian and Jason have green eyes half the time and by saying 'lighteyed' when it comes to Batboys,that would be problematic but it'd at least include Duke since he's gold eyed due to Gnonom and you probably don't even know who that is since you actively refuse to meet Duke even though he's easiest Batkid to read for BECAUSE he's got so little content and Cass and Stephanie also have a small amount of material compared to the other boys

When Cass is chosen over Duke for Jason by all of you even though she hates him and she chooses Stephanie again and again against everyone's wishes and Duke canonically WANTS to be chosen for fucking once and Jason DID choose him and is the only other Batboy who called him a Robin directly outside of Robin War and Stephanie's dying wish was be 'a real Robin' and Cass' character creation purpose is to defy the idea that asian women exist only for white men and go against other asian girl stereotypes,INCLUDING being purely soft and feminine by making her a rough and tough butch who hates cis men.When you say 'Fuck canon,fanon is better!' to justify your millions of rewrites to erase Tim's Robin being a romani man and his Batgirl a half chinese girl and Jason's Robin and Batgirl being a black autistic boy and his Batgirl a bpdtistic male explotation victim and your crossovers of characters who have the perfect parents or at least caretakers in canon but suddenly,canon is your gospel when it comes to the bigotry in it's writing i.e how 'The core Batkids' came to be

And the fact is,that's like the only Batkids combo that DOSEN'T make sense!The Dead Robins Club is a no brainer but there's also the 90s Batkids trinity,the Shakespearen Robins(Jason,Stephanie and Duke),The Troubled Batkids(Tim,Stephanie,Cass and Duke),Batman!Cass Batwoman!Stephanie Robin!Maps and Trans Batgirl!Damian and the ONLY CANON Nightwing Robin and Batgirl trio we've ever gotten in Dick Tim and Cass??????You have some of the best dynamics of all time possible but nah,you'd rather pass it over for infantalizing a grown ass disabled moc into your pathetic lil pretty obsessed manchild,turning thee dead sidekick into a convuluted mess more than canon ever has and that's saying BIG words,cringeifying someone who just has the personality of an ordinary of 17 year old boy and is therefore inherently lovable into the arranged marriage lovechild of a dark romance guy and a pick me quotev girl and dehumanize a cute and sweet lil brown boy who's got that trauma already to turn him into an animal in human mold in the same breath you bash him healing enough to get a gf through trauma bonding and being kiddy together in favor of your groody ass lil age gap fantasy-Actually,that applies to ALL OF THEM

Kory,Rose and STEPHANIE are infinitely better written love interests for Dick,Jason and Tim than any older man you want them to get with,Tim most of all because he's not even a man,he's a boy.Cass and Stephanie are adults and have been for a long time in multiple incarnations so why not make Stephcass smut instead?Why not 'Duke joins the Batfam early/Jason takes Duke into The Outlaws after he has a fight with Bruce that scared him/Sleep Deprived Duke Thomas/Chaotic Duke Thomas/Duke Thomas deserves better/Trans Duke Thomas/Autistic Duke Thomas?,all of which are infinitely more implicable to Duke than they are to Tim and so is 'Token Normal Tim Drake'?When you make this content or you support it,you're saying something.You're saying you don't care about representation and perfer stereotyping and abusive dynamics because you believe they're inherently more interesting

Before you judge this post,consider the following:Which one of us has read enough comics and watched enough adaptions to know all this?Which one of us has more of a right to call themself a Batfam and Batkids fan?Which one of us is constantly gatekeeping Duke,Cass and Stephanie from their own story and pulling the 'No,YOU!!!!' card?It's absolutely pathetic how desperate the grip Batfanon has taken is and even more so that y'all refuse to move on from it like i did.It's not gonna kill you,you pissbabies.And just curious,how long was the last Batfam-centric post you rb'd?Longer than this,right?

[toxicanonymity]

Objectification Headcanons - Joel Miller

Whenever Joel furrows his brow in silence, he's signaling he's free for your use. All you have to do is show him you're ready if you want to get railed. Highly recommend. | NSFW 18+

He has 5 primary modes you can activate: Classic, Feral, Dom, Sub, and Dark.

Classic mode

To activate classic mode, take his map. Or hell, just tell him you need some D. He'll instantly get hard.

If he looks put out by this, he's not. That's just how his face is.

Need him in your mouth? Tell him you're thirsty and almost out of water.

Want head? Offer him some jerky. He'll spread your knees.

Eats pussy like he's starving. Eats ass like it's 20 yr old chef Boyardee.

Will gladly fuck you standing or bent over while keeping as much clothing on as possible. He'll pull your underwear to the side.

Get on all fours if you prefer. Show him what you want.

☠️WARNING☠️: variety of depravity & darkness including violence

Feral mode

To activate, pull a gun on him then let him disarm you. If you want it really rough, get on your knees first.

He'll be so ravenous, you'd think he was infected.

Bends you over the nearest rubble, tears your pants down and fucks you with the hardest cock you've ever had.

Talks dirty, will narrate everything in the nastiest way possible.

Do not recommend getting head in this mode. His beard might break the skin. Don't let it get infected. If you have a dick, he might bite it.

Dom mode

To activate, stop dead in your tracks and drop your backpack

He'll demand you take off your clothes.

Get you totally nude while he keeps his own clothes on.

Will make you beg for his cock until you're nearly crying.

Then you have to beg to come. Edges you to death until you promise to be good.

May dump his load on your pile of clothes. He knows you have to put the same ones back on and he wants to know you're walking around in his filth.

May restrain you or spit in your mouth then fuck your face.

Sub mode

To activate, tug his backpack.

He'll sit down on the ground against the nearest surface.

You can leave him sitting up and ride him. if you need more room from the wall, tug his butt toward you and he'll scoot out enough.

You can face him and wrap yourself around him. He won't be able to resist putting his hands all over you.

You can face away from him and sit on him, kneel, or get like a frog, face down.

Ease his upper body back totally prone if you want to sit on his face.

Feel free to edge him into oblivion and make him beg and whimper.

Bottom mode: Put him in sub mode then suck his cock and finger his asshole. That's the only way he's letting you in the back door. You might have to eat his ass, too.

⚠️(Actual) Dark Mode - DO NOT RECOMMEND unless you want to be scared shitless

To activate, say something about Tess.

May pull a knife on you, make you bleed, choke you.

May click like a clicker while he's fucking you.

Will fuck you with a gun to the back of your head or make you suck his cock with a gun to your temple.

Might rail you in front of the skeletons while recounting the darkest things that have ever happened.

May bite and break the skin, knowing it's traumatic.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Five

TW: inappropriate handcuff use, nsfw, might make you hungry

When Tom wakes the next morning, it’s to you clicking his other wrists into the handcuffs, stringing him up to your bedpost, sweet vengeance written in your evil smile. 

He grins at you, teeth poking out, dark eyebrows raised. “Oh yeah?” He asks, testing the cuffs. 

You stretch and yawn, sitting back on your knees to admire him. You kind of like him like this, although maybe you should add a gag to shut him up for once. “Morning, handsome. Looks like you’ve been captured, huh?” 

He playfully bites at you, and you giggle. “And what is my kidnapper planning to do with me? Please tell me it has something to do with this wicked morning wood.” 

Indeed, the blanket around his hips conceals a considerable bulge that looks an awful lot like his dick. You put your finger to your lips, pretending to think about it. “Actually, I was thinking about going to the store. And then making breakfast.” 

“If you sit on my face I won’t need breakfast,” he says. 

“Who said I was going to make you breakfast?” You ask. 

“Oh, you are evil.” Oh, he’s all play now, but just wait until you’re edging him stupid. Your eyes narrow, and you pat his thigh. 

You eye the bulge in the blanket thoughtfully. You are feeling famished. Ever so slowly you pull down the blanket, tickling his nerve endings as you bare his beautiful body inch by inch. By the time the edge of the blanket caresses his erect manhood, Tom is already squirming, straining against the cuffs. Your vintage brass bed squeaks in protest, and for a moment you actually fear he just might break free.

He smirks at your wide eyed look, which only makes you want to exact your vengeance tenfold. 

“If you break my bed I’ll be mad, Officer Ludlow,” you say with cloying sweetness, straddling his muscled torso. You know he can feel your wet slit upon his belly, the undeniable evidence of your arousal, and maybe you do get a bit of a powertrip watching his eyes flutter closed for it, even if just for a second. 

“I wouldn’t do such a thing,” he plays along, straining towards you with his hips. You feel the soft kiss of his tip upon the small of your back, a bead of moisture on your skin cool to the open air.

He’s not the only one affected, and you fight to keep your eyes open, fixed on your prize. “It must be something, to be you,” you muse, looking down at his powerful body beneath you. “You can be such a pain in the ass…” He smirks at this. “And the whole world…just folds for you. Gives you anything you want. Even me.”

That's when his smug look cracks a little at the edges. “You mad, baby?”

You brace yourself on the bed, leaning in so your lips hover just above his. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You woke up in a mood, that’s true, with his warm body curled around yours, almost smothering you with his weight, your space on the bed reduced to a sliver of the edge of your mattress. And the way he’d taunted you the night before, and the night before that, demanding you sign over the pink slip to your heart to him without a look back…and you were almost ready to do it. “But I did warn you I would get even.” 

You lick the seam of his lips, but draw back as he leans in to deepen it. The growl he makes in the back of his throat is more than

gratifying, you have to admit. Maybe you don’t really know what you’re doing–but if he sounds like that? You must be doing something right.

Your lips trail down the chiseled line of his jaw, pressing kisses to the column of his neck. 

“I think…” He sighs as you descend to his broad chest, laving the flat of your tongue over his nipple. “You should take these off.” He rattles the cuffs against the headboard for emphasis. 

“What? You can dish it but can’t take it?” You feed him his words from earlier, and he rumbles in answer from deep in his chest. His swollen member strains against the seam of your ass. You pop your hips, just barely letting him feel the moist heat of your cunt against his tip, before positioning yourself lower. 

He laughs in answer, but there is definitely strain to it. “Fuck. Baby…”

The gravel in his voice makes the fact that he is probably bending your headboard past the point of repair all worth it. 

Next your questing tongue finds the scar that bisects his abdomen right down the center. It’s almost barbaric in length, the scar tissue thick and waxy beneath your tongue. “What happened here?” you ask with as much professional curiosity as personal. Whatever it was, it hurt.

“Take a guess, Nurse Ratchett.” In answer you nip him, loving the soft flesh of his belly between your teeth. 

“Appendicitis complications?”

“Motorcycle accident.” It would be something ridiculous, preventable–and totally hot, if you’re being honest. 

You can’t help it. Unbidden, you think of Julian. “You ride?”

“Not so much anymore,” he grinds out, distracted because his velvety tip is brushing your chin.”I have…something to live for now.”

You can’t help it. Maybe you’re playing tough at the moment, but inside? You utterly melt. “Oh, Tom,” you sigh, breath cooling the head of his twitching cock. “You’re such a sap.” 

“You love it.” 

He’s not wrong, although that mouth of his has just got to be nerfed somehow. You gently cup his balls, feeling the weight in your hand and stroking softly around the sensitive skin with your thumb, watching his reactions to see what feels good and doesn’t. Can never be too sure, so you ask: “you like that?” 

His hips pump. “Yeah, baby.” 

Not desperate enough, not by half, and fuck, that big cock of his really does have your mouth watering—enough that you can get the tip of him good and soaked when you suck it between your lips. Your ego buds at the sound of his strangled, frustrated moan. 

It’s difficult not to stay right here and taste him, that salty, cool cum melting in your mouth instead of on your skin. You release his sucked-swollen head, and pick the residual fluid up with your tongue, paying special attention to the frenulum in light, sharp licks and broad swipes. 

Shit, he really is going to break your bed if you don’t stop. If you can stop. But, honestly, this is probably the most fun you’ve had in a while, and self control is an afterthought when you’re with Tom. 

Reluctantly, you let his cock flop back to stand rigid against his tummy, and give his pretty scar one more little kiss of teasing tongue, just above the head of his glans.

“What’re you doin, baby?” He asks, eyes heavy and lusty under his thick dark lashes, cheeks painted coral, bottom lip plumped a little extra bit from his teeth. 

You smile at him adoringly. God, he’s beautiful. “Told you, handsome,” you remind, “I wanna make some breakfast.”

***

Pancakes, bacon, orange juice. You even buy a brand new bottle of honey. You don’t know much about cooking, never really had the opportunity to learn in your kidhood—or anyone to teach you for that matter. Everything you know is from Tom Ludlow and Food Network, and you burn things more often than you’d like. But not your perfect fluffy blueberry pancakes and not—damn, okay maybe the bacon a little bit. 

How long has it been? Since you’ve chained this man up to your headboard? And he’s still hard and angry, the poor thing, trying to find a way to weasel out of those cuffs. You plop down beside him with your plate of food, and dig in. 

“How’s it going?” You ask, smiling around a bite of pancake. 

“Oh, that smells fucking delicious,” he growls, straining toward you while you pull away, taunting him with a forks view of a honey drizzled slice of pancake. 

You lap at the honey with your tongue before popping the bite in. The two of you groan in unison, but for slightly different reasons. 

“That really is a helluva pancake recipe,” you taunt, taking another bite. 

“Baby…” Now there is the note of desperation in his tone you've been waiting for. Maybe you shouldn't like the way it makes you feel powerful, in control. Is this how he feels all the time? You understand how chasing that could become addicting, even as alien as the sensation is to you. 

You need more.

You grab some rogue honey on your fork, and lift it over his abdomen, letting the thick nectar drizzle onto his tummy, and then follow with your tongue. He curses, presses up into your smiling mouth, trying to bring his probably painfully hard cock within tongues reach. Too bad you’re not in a merciful mood. 

You repeat this action, slightly lower, smirking at the way he writhes beneath you. Oh, this is fun. 

“Baby…” It's the closest to begging you've ever heard from him. He's asked you questions, and he's told you things that should have been questions… This is totally new from Tom Ludlow, and you decide you like it.

“What, sweetheart? Something you need?” 

You place a honey slathered piece upon his hipbone, considering your artistic arrangement carefully with a little smile. “I think–” He gasps as you brush his velvety shaft, feather light, while placing another morsel just below his navel. “You know–exactly what I need.”

By the time you’re finished you've made a neatly spaced edible arch over his abdomen, and Tom Ludlow is twitching for you.

It’s satisfying as hell.

“Don’t move,” you warn him. “Or you’ll make a mess, and I’ll have to start all over again.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” he groans, sucking in his stomach as you enjoy your first bite, licking the excess honey out of the divot of his hipbone.

“Fair’s fair,” you singsong, moving on to your next piece. 

By the third one in, and maybe because you've made sure to position his burgeoning erection right between your breasts as you eat and lick and suck on the skin above his navel, he actually starts to beg.

“Please, sweet girl…”

“Please, what?” you ask, blinking innocently. 

“You know.” He moves his hips as much as he can without upsetting your little breakfast tableau. 

“Use your words…”

Somehow, the next bite tastes even sweeter. 

Tom short circuits, maybe remembering how exactly to ask for something instead of just taking it, but when he speaks it seems his memory is serving him just fine, the impossibly lower pitch of his voice sweet as the honey you’re currently slurping from his lower tummy. Your clit pulses, and you find yourself just as desperate, although maybe not as helpless, as him. 

“Please let me cum.” 

He’s the last piece of pizza from your favorite mom and pop shop, he’s the only Reese’s cup in the trick or treat bag, he’s the morphine that they gave you when you broke your arm riding a bike with no breaks. Irresistible, he is, at baseline. When he’s using that cooing, supplicating voice? You’re fucking doomed.

“Please let me have that perfect, beautiful mouth on my cock? See how bad I need you?”

You don’t need any more convincing to lick him from base to tip, and then slide his head into your honey sweetened mouth. 

“Oh, that’s it,” he encourages. “Let’s see how far you can get me down, beautiful.” 

Orders. You roll your eyes, and look up at him with his satiny tip stretching open your lips. Instead of swallowing him deeper, you do the opposite, using just your tongue to flick at the sensitive underside of his head, that nerve rich indent, occasionally veering off to lick beads of precum from his tip and slather it along his length. You need him wet. 

Speaking of wet, your other hand dips into your folds and collects some of the abundant slick that flows so freely from you, and you bring it up to coat him in it. 

“Oh, that’s fucking—fuckin sexy.” Sounds like he’s losing some of that lewd yet suave charm to your skilled mouth, and the power trip just grows.

“What if I just kept you here all day, Tom?” You ask, squeezing elbows in to accentuate your breasts on purpose. 

“Keep talking,” he groans, head thrown back as you stroke him from bottom to top, slow and soft, pausing to palm his head every now and again. “Like the sound of that.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” you tsk. “What if I just keep you here and not let you cum?” 

He shoots you a dark, warning look that has nervous giggles bubbling in your throat. “Baby,” he purrs, voice conflicting with his glare, “I will break this fucking bed.”

Oh, something about mean, predator Tom makes you flutter. “Yeah, and then what?”

A tiny grin—or maybe snarl—either way you are absolutely soaking through the waterproof mattress protector—curls the corner of his mouth. “Make you cum so much your brain leaks outta those pretty ears.” 

Cheap thrills. Better than the rollercoaster drop. You wouldn’t hate it if he kept that promise—no, you wouldn’t hate it at all. 

But that’s not what you’re doing right now, you have to remind yourself, no matter how your treacherous lady parts sing out that they want Tom to do exactly that. You are trying to teach him a lesson, and he’s still giving you orders. “Promises, promises,” you dare to taunt him, praying that the old metal of your headboard can hold out for another ten minutes, at least. 

Whatever Tom intended to fire back next is interrupted as you straddle his hips, bracing yourself with hands on his broad chest as you slide your wet center against his shaft, teasing your clit with his swollen head. You both make a sound that is more animal than human, and you watch in fascination as his arms strain against the cuffs, muscles and veins popping. God what a specimen. 

“Baby,” he starts again, and you can tell it takes every iota of control he has to keep his voice sweet. “Please?”

But you’re enjoying yourself, the sliding friction of his perfect cock making you see stars, your orgasm building like a storm between your legs. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kinda bossy, Officer Ludlow?” you ask breathily, hovering with his tip at your entrance.

 He just groans in answer, as you lower yourself a fraction. The sweet sensation makes you dig your nails into his chest–maybe you’ve been torturing him, but you’ve kind of been torturing yourself too. As he lifts his hips towards you, you hold yourself just out of reach. 

It makes him laugh, though it’s a strained sound from between his teeth. “Woman…alright. You win.”

“Yeah?” You cannot disguise the delight in your tone.

“Yeah. I’ll behave. For…fifteen minutes, before I lose my mind, and you’ll have to call in a 5150.”

“What’s that?” you ask with a little smile, settling down a fraction. It makes the both of you sigh. Maybe you're not cut out for this– because all you really want to do as this game goes on, is give him exactly what he wants.

“Mental health crisis, darling. I’m a man on the edge.” 

“Interesting that you still think you’re the one in charge here, Thomas,” you say, hissing with the stretch of his cock head filling you up. “Tell you what, if you can keep your big mouth shut—“ you lean down to brush his lips with yours, then pull away before he can nip you into his mouth—“for ten minutes, I’ll let you cum.” 

“Ten minutes?” He asks. “You met me?”

Here you are, with the tip of his dick inside you, pussy pulsing angrily for more, wondering why you’re doing this to her, pent up and ready to just say fuck it—literally—and you laugh. He makes you laugh, and the infectious joy gets him going, too. And now you’re both just giggling, which at first you’re afraid might kill the mood, but instead it just snaps something inside of you akin to a blazing wildfire or a sudden harsh summer thunderstorm, and you sink down fully, enveloping him in soaked heat. 

Laughter turns to groaning pants, slick sounds of sex, the glorious and perfect fit of soft and hard, bitter and sugar, whiskey and coke. You lean down to latch onto his mouth, and he fucks up into you, brand new angle bullying your cervix and building agonizing pleasure way too soon. 

You’re going to cum, you realize far too late, sweet kisses on his jaw turning into a harsh bite that he’ll have to either cover or, knowing Tom, flaunt proudly as a testament to your devotion. 

His hips slow, maybe for the sake of your sensitivity or maybe just to gloat: “looks like I’m not the only pent up one, huh?” 

“Yeah. So now I can ju-uh-.” He picks up his pace again, the bastard, and you retaliate by sitting fully up on him, straight and proud. Only this angle is deeper and more intense than you’re used to, and Tom is strong enough to bounce you on his cock without the use of his hands, so really you effectively and literally fuck yourself. Hard to remember what you were going to playfully threaten when you feel like this man is nestled into your womb. 

Your strong, independent brain absolutely forgets that you were trying to make a point to this domineering man. Your bossy pussy tells your higher ideals to fuck off, and your self respect too. Because you’ve never felt anything like this, and every muscle and nerve ending in your body intends to ride this beautiful cock to the shining end, even if it kills you.

“You cumming with me, beautiful?” He doesn’t ask. He demands, and you realize this man just can’t help himself. 

“Yes. Fuck!” With your back arched taut as a bow you feel it building in your hips again. The wonderful, glorious agony this man inspires in you, whether he is fucking you silly or melting your heart with one of those soul-rending looks that lays you bare. 

Now you’re both working in tandem, the other’s means to an end. It’s not graceful, downright fucking sloppy, no rhythm about your hips as they pursue that beautiful snap of consuming pleasure, the addictive bite of the forbidden fruit. “God, I wanna touch you,” Tom says, and it sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

You open your eyes, not realizing they had gone shut, and the sight of him sends you head first into a stone wall of an orgasm. And he’s right there, too, breaking through the barrier and falling into the angry ocean behind with you cradled against him. He fills you up so nicely, and it drips down your legs when you try to stand up and get the handcuff keys. 

“That was amazing,” he tells you, breathless, smiling, making you want to kiss him, and you do. You kiss him and crawl into his lap, take his red, chafed wrists and kiss over them, rub the blood back into his cold fingers. 

“You should have told me they were too tight,” you tell him, maneuvering his big hand in two of your own. 

He kisses your sweaty cheek. “I’m fine, baby. You can handcuff me anytime you want, kay?” 

“You fought me the entire time!” You tell him, laughing at the goofy grin on his face, pushing on his chest playfully. 

“And you had a blast,” he agrees, lips reluctant to move from your skin even to tease you with words. 

It was true, though it was also clear to you that you were never going to manage to brat tame this man. Good luck and rest in peace to that little thought. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you think, as you settle against his chest with his arms around you–you like it when he can touch you, even if he drives you fucking insane. This is your last hazy thought before you drift into a warm doze with his steady heartbeat drumming in your ear.

[suzukiblu]

TimKon bellybulge but specifically with the use of Kon’s TTK, writer’s choice for who’s getting stuffed with the TTK dick under whose orders

welllll haven't gotten to belly-bulge territory YET, but apparently my attempt at writing a kink snippet has turned into me having a new WIP to torment me, haha, so here's the start of that!

“Hm,” Tim says idly from between Kon’s thighs, his eyes intent and assessing on his hole. Kon’s just trying not to either lose his concentration or psych himself out before they get anywhere. 

His TTK works on anything he's touching, is the thing, and he's always touching himself. There's nothing he's more familiar with than his own body. He could map out his own veins and nerves from memory. 

This is definitely not something he's done with it before, though. 

“You’re giving me a nice view,” Tim says conversationally, still not touching him. Still leaving him to do this himself. Kon bites his tongue as hard as he can without quite tasting blood and uses his TTK to spread his cheeks open a little farther as he tilts his hips up, because–because Tim thinks he’s giving him a nice view, so he can't do anything else but give him that view.

And he also uses his TTK to spread his hole open a little farther, too. 

Tim smiles.

He doesn't look up to meet Kon's eyes or even glance at his face, even though Kon's on his back and it'd be easy for him to do, and he still doesn't touch him. It makes Kon feel a little weird and a little gross, like Tim doesn't even care it's him here and he'd have just as good a time doing this with any random stranger. But “any random stranger” couldn't actually do what Kon's doing to himself right now, and also he just really, really doesn't want his face involved in something in his life for once. He doesn't want to be–recognized, for once. 

Obviously Tim recognizes him. Obviously Tim knows it's him. Tim would know him anywhere, especially when it's this obvious. 

But Kon just wants recognized by something that's just his, for once, and not something that was stolen from somebody else. His face isn't just his and neither is his voice or his body and neither are most of his powers, but his TTK–

That's his. Just his. He had it first. Nobody else had it before him. 

It's him Tim is recognizing when he sees it, and not anybody else. Him that Tim thinks of first. 

Kon maybe had a few less issues about his Xerox-copy of a face and body before he physically matured enough for the media to start one-to-one comparing them to Clark's when he was first starting out as Superman, but that is totally besides the point and not relevant and not something he's worrying about right–

They have different fingerprints, he reminds himself, curling his fingers into the sheets. They have–he knows they have different fingerprints. Clark told him that himself. 

A version of him, anyway. 

“Nice,” Tim says approvingly, and something in Kon’s chest . . . uncoils, a little, and lets him breathe a little easier. “You can take a little more for me, though, can't you?” 

Even if he couldn't, for Tim's approval, Kon would find a damn way. 

He doesn't actually answer with his voice, though, because it's not really his voice. What he does is push his TTK up his ass like somebody else would their fingers and work himself open, and burn alive over Tim's little hum of approval. 

He's never actually done this before, fingers or not; to himself or with anyone else, from either side of it. This is–this is a new thing. 

But it's Tim, so–so it'll be fine, Kon reminds himself, covering his face with an arm for just–just a moment. 

It's Tim. 

It's Tim, so it'll be fine. 

[whoiwanttoday]

Today is one of those days that should be a really relaxing sort of day but instead is stressful as fuck for me. See, it's a Friday in the summer, a time that is notoriously slow for me at work which is great, it means one of two things, I can either catch up on work or if I am caught up I can get paid to basically relax and be there in case something catches fire and I have to put it out. Today is the later kind, which is great for me. Every day like that might drag eventually but I love a good day I get paid to entertain myself. Because I can entertain myself. But instead today has been a day where I just want to scream, "Leave me the fuck alone". Just coworkers constantly pestering me, not because of work related things but because they are bored. And here is a universal truth, if you are bored it is because you are boring. Some people might think that is harsh but those people can choke on a dick and die for all I care, you are clearly upset because you're boring and uninteresting and so why the fuck would I care what you have to say. People like you think it's my job to entertain people like you. It's your whole fundamental flaw as a human being, you think entertainment is something that happens to you. You think the structures of the world exist for your benefit, that you exist to be catered to. Get off your ass and do something. We have an entire world full of things you can do for entertainment and in the model world a large number of them are at your finger tips. Learn a new language, read a book, play a game on your phone, research a topic you have always wondered about, plan out your weekend, plan out your meals for next week, organize a private film festival for you and your friend, map out the perfect hike, figure out where you want to stay on your next vacation, look into the issues you find most important in the coming election and how you can support the change you want to see, listen to music, listen to a podcast, count the ceiling tiles in your office ceiling and then figure you what different geometric patterns you can create in them, think about how you would fight off a band of futuristic pirates if they stormed your workplace and all you had was a stapler, think about how you'd impress Natalie Portman if she was lost and needed directions, think about the perfect meal you'd make for a loved one, write a poem, write really hacky porn, sit and look at the wall and allow your imagination to take you where it is. Like, legitimately, engage some level of intellectual curiosity instead of being a tired dullard. Holy fuck, quit making your dull, one dimensional existence everyone else's problem. Since I started writing this I had to check teams three times to see if there was something important going on or if, as was actually the case, someone was bored and needed entertaining. Literally one was, "It's so slow today, I'm bored". Anyway, here is Olivia Dunne, who I have no idea how well she entertains herself. She is a high level athlete in a discipline that you have to start young so I doubt she sits around whining about being bored but maybe she does. Who knows. Today I want to fuck Olivia Dunne.

[currymanganese]

The Bear Season 3 gave me the courage to start Interview With A Vampire~ Among many of the things that I found darkly funny about the season are:

1. The whore house scenes:

a. The Alderman that rightfully got his head busted open for dipping his dick in Brick's poop chute without her consent.

b. Lily saying to her madam, "they're swapping Andouillie sausage recipes." over ldpdl and lestat's dick measuring contest / posturing over her with all the gay ass lust and tension over them being so thick and pervasive like the fog of war on a DOTA map.

c. Brick's ascent to being ldpdl's woman of business and ldpdl skirting around racist ordinance targeting his *ahem* 'facilities' by giving the ladies shares in the business.

d. "I have clean pussies walking the floor out there!" ~ okay ma'am, Brick my beloved, I believe you.😭

2. The period accurate homophobia:

a. Paul's gaydar going off if Louis and Lestat even so much as breathed, gurgling and screeching like a geiger counter going off at ground zero of the Chernobyl Nuclear Reactor disaster - but not the defective geiger counter, "3.6 roentgen, not great not terrible.", but the accurate ones that could've saved so many lives and warned the reactor staff and first responders that they were all doomed in short order 😔

b. The police chief that came to loustat's home and shaded them for, "crimes against nature" at every opportunity

c. Ldpdl's mama basically calling him a filthy faggot in her mind at every opportunity, when unbeknownst to her he knew exactly what she thought of him after lestat turned him.

sidenote: actually it was heartbreaking how desperate ldpdl was for his family's love and approval, he tried so hard to hold onto them for so long - he's better than me in that regard, but it was so clear why that was ultimately an impossible task for multiple reasons namely....Bro you're a fucking vampire now! 😭

d. The crowd reaction to loustat having a 'dance of romance' at their family murder (unbeknownst to Lestat) divorce ball - the couple that walked right the fuck on out in disgust immediately at the sight of their pda might've saved their own lives if they were at risk of being lured in as prey. 🥴

e. "Daddy Lou and Uncle Les had a real funny way of being nice to each other!"

3. The unapologetic gayness:

a. "Ahhh! Lestat! Unpack your trunks (wdym by that lestat 👁️ that's innuendo there isn't it 😭) you're home!"

and the UNPARALLELED downbadism of "he ain't white, he french,!"

b. Lestat seducing Louis.

c. Claudia Louis divorce lawyer and power of attorney arc - he really couldn't have let that man go on his own. 😔🙏🏽

d. "Come To Me!" 😩🥵♥️✨💦🍆🌈

e. Louis taking Lestat back

d. Daniel being shady af and calling Louis a battered wife - he was so real for that.

e. Daniel in general - I know his old ass was lusting after "Rashid!" so bad and trying to act mad or like he was above it - but like sir! why tf did you want to know what he tasted like and how much he weighed etc. etc. but okay, no judgement, he IS fine as hell and *Spoilers* he's older than you anyway so good for you! 😉

3. Lestat's cheating ass,

a. he was almost as shameless a philanderer as my grandfathers, amazing.

b. him giving louis permission to indulge in an open marriage and obviously lying through his teeth about it - R.I.P Jonah

c. Him and Antoinette arguing over her finger.

4. Lestat in general. Sam Reid ILY - lestat my behated though but i see his appeal i really do.

5. Raising Claudia.

6. Claudia in general - she really is her fathers' daughter after all.

7. "Did you eat the baby?!" 🤨

Louis took so long to answer it makes me doubt his ✨ odyssey of recollection ✨ about the circumstances under review in this here interview

8. The 🧚🏾‍♂️��🏽✨💖Odyssey of Recollection💖✨ 💅🏽🧚🏾‍♂️ smh louis - you spent way too much time with your huzzbands and they rubbed off on you - you were not always a theatre gay! but also go off king 👑🥰 because you have the talent for it.

9. The flashes of loustat coparenting baby vamp Claudia - the stakeout / ambush / you are grounded missy! moment in her room when she snuck back in the house.

10. Mr. Dr. "I'm not here!"

11. The poor tractor salesman that got got 😭

12.Nobody questioning why Louis' eye colour changed. "That information is on a need to know basis!"

13. realizing what moment that gif of louis' pov of lestat dropping him like it's hot was from - the vfx for this show is shit sometimes but I don't even care because everything else was so good 😭

14. Daniel a la Will Smith in Suicide Squad, "What is this, some kinda dark gothic romance?!"

..........

Well, duh! I know everybody involved in this show was giggling their asses off like this 😁🤭 on set for that line and Mr. Bogosian sold it with conviction, well done.

What a great piece of television this season was. Thanks for the recs! @ambeauty @melfinawins

[gyupinkys]

PLEASE?

JUN X FEM READER

Bestfriends to lovers since exclusive fairytale is driving me insane…

WC:1.6K

WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, switch jun, switch reader, oral (m receiving), fingering, creampie, begging, mentions of viagra, begging

Moving into college is hard. It’s your second year, yet every new dorm is equally as much of a hassle. You finally flop onto your bed after hanging up all your clothes only to be met with the rumbling of your stomach. 

“God, I should've eaten breakfast.” you mumble to yourself, thankful your roommate is nowhere to be found.

You begrudgingly get up and walk out, head deep into your phone trying to find the nearest dining hall on the campus map. You find the closest one to you is only a few buildings over, just to crash into someone in front of you, making you stumble back.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry” you say looking up at the tall blonde. 

“Nah, it's my bad. I was too into my phone, I'm trying to find a dining hall.” he says in a deep, smooth voice. Damn. He’s really fucking hot. The unnatural blonde suits him so well, and his cat-like eyes are incredibly attractive. 

“I’m actually looking for one too. There's one a few buildings over, you want to go with me?”

“Sure.”

From then a beautiful friendship bloomed. You learned his name is Jun, he’s from china, he speaks mandarin, cantonese, and korean. He loves to dance. His best friend/roommate's name is Minghao who is also from China and has bright red hair so it would be hard to miss him on campus. He used to be a child actor, but got into business so he can take over his dad’s company, and most importantly he is filthy rich. He didn’t even bother to say he’s “Comfortable” like most rich people do, he just said “I can pay all four years of full tuition with no worries.” which told you everything you needed to know. You and Jun quickly became friends, attached to the hip would be an understatement. Wherever you went, best believe Jun would be there. He became your go-to person. If you needed something he would get it for you, if you needed help he would be there, he was even there to ice your nipples when you got them pierced. You lost all shame when it came to Jun, he was your person. So when you walk into your room one day, just to see Jun laying shirtless in your bed, covered in sweat, with his dick in his hands, and your panties to his nose, you’re beyond confused. 

“Jun?” you say with wide eyes, quickly shutting the door.

“I’m sorry Y/N, Hoshi tricked me and gave me chocolate but it was some sort of fucking viagra and now I can’t stop thinking about you and I’m sorry if this is weird and ruins our relationship and i know I should’ve just went to my room, but I know your roommate and hao are in there and I really wanted to see you and I knew you could help me-”

“Jun, slow down what?”

“Y/N, please fuck me.” he says with a whine.

You feel like you could collapse right now. 

You slowly walk up to him and take his chin into your hand, raising his face to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Y/N. Please.”

You straddle his thighs and kiss him and take his dick into your hands, beginning to stroke it making him groan. “Jun, how long have you felt like this?”

“Since you bumped into me in the hallway. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” he says and leans forward to kiss you again. He runs his hands across your body and squeezes your ass. 

“Baby, please let me fuck you.”

“Jun, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Imagine how crazy you drove me every time you bent over only wearing one of my shirts, every time you wore a shirt with no bra, touched me in a certain way, looked at me with those pretty eyes, smiled at me. I’ve wanted to make you mine for so long, to be able to call you my girl.”

You smile at him, a bright, beautiful smile, making his heart skip a beat. You lean back and take off your shirt, his hands immediately flying to your chest, squeezing them.

“When I saw these tits for the first time I popped a boner. I had to pretend I was fine seeing your nipples pebble up from the ice.”

“I wish you did what you were thinking. You helping me made me sooo wet.”

He runs his hands to your sweatpants and pulls them down, helping you get off leaving you in just your panties. He sits up and kisses up your chest and around your face. He kisses your forehead, then your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your jaw, and finally your lips.

“Please fuck me, Jun.”

He flips the two of you over pulling off his sweats and boxers. “Where are your condoms?” 

“You don’t need one.”

“Baby, are you sure?”

“Yes Jun! Just fill me up already.” you whine.

He groans into your neck, running his fingers through your folds, only to find you ridiculously wet. “All this just for me?” he smirks at you, slowly circling his finger on your clit. 

“Yes, Jun”

“You flatter me, Baby.”

He runs his fingers down and plunges two straight into your hole, cutting to the chase and feeling around for your G-spot. He knows he found it when your back arches off the bed and you grab his hair, pulling his lips to yours. He continues thrusting up into your sweet spot, making your toes curl. You pull his hair and look into his eyes. 

“I want to cum on your cock, Junnie.”

“And exactly when I think I couldn’t be more in love with you, you surprise me.” he says with a smile. “But no.” he says as his eyes darken.

“What the fuck do you mean no?” you say in shock.

“I mean, you’ll cum when I let you cum.”

“Jun, stop teasing.”

“I can show you what real teasing looks like, Baby.” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you and slips them into your mouth as you're about to rebuttal.

He pulls you up by your hair and pushes you to your knees. “You know what to do Baby, I’ve heard first hand about how much of a whore you are.”

You groan but lick his leaking tip while looking into his eyes. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, '' you say challengingly. 

He looks into your eyes and shrugs. “I guess I’ll have to show you.”

He hooks his fingers into your mouth to widen it and shoves his dick straight into your mouth without giving you any time to adjust. He begins to thrust into your mouth and straight down your throat making you gag, but his fingers make you unable to close your mouth. You look at him with pleading eyes, but the tears running down your face only turns him on more. He decides he’s had enough. He needs to fuck that soaking wet pussy or he might actually die. He grabs your hand and throws you on the bed. 

“Spread your legs.”

You obey but you're plotting. Is he forgetting he was the one desperate for you to touch him? Now he wants to be in charge? Not on your watch. As he bottoms out in you, you let out a loud moan to distract him and flip him over. 

“Junnie, I think you’re forgetting you’re the one who's in desperate need of somewhere to dump their cum. You’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” you say and grind your hips into him, making his eyes roll back.

“I want you to beg for me.”

Without missing a beat he starts to beg. “Please fuck me Y/N, I need it. I feel like I'm gonna explode. You're so warm and tight I feel like I’m in heaven. Please help me, baby.”

You raise your hips and his hips chase you, making it so you don't raise off his dick. “Jun, how am I gonna ride you if you don’t let me up.”

He groans and glues his hips to the bed, letting you begin to bounce. You feel like he’s in your guts, moving your insides around to accommodate him. 

“God, Jun you feel so good.” you moan out as you bounce faster, ignoring the burn in your thighs.  He thrusts meeting your hips as you bounce, pushing his dick deeper into you. His hands travel to your clit, pressing firmly and rubbing tight circles. “Please cum baby, cum on my cock, I’m so close.”

Seeing him so pathetic beneath you does something to you. You grind harder, feeling his tip hit your spot everytime, throwing you over the edge. As soon as he feels the first squeeze of your cunt he lets go, filling you up completely, causing some to spill out of you onto his thighs. He pulls you down for a kiss, holding you as you come down from your orgasm. 

He looks you in the eye when he whispers “I love you” against your lips.

As the sun shines through your windows, you awake with a smile on your face. It feels so good to finally be in Jun’s arms as his girlfriend. You sit up and stretch making him get up with you. He wraps his hands around your waist. “I’m hungry,” he says. 

“You want me to order you something?”

“No, I’m hungry for something else. I missed out on eating it yesterday” he smirks and drags you down onto the bed with him.

A/N: LMK if you want a part 2 with her roommate and how? I'm thinking a forced proximity kind of thing.

[hijinxinprogress]

YouTuber!Stephanie

Stephanie has a youtube channel (she 100% gives it a name like gotham_after_dark or bat_interpreter) where she follows Batman and mocks him, she definitely also makes content on tiktok and instagram

She’s recording fights with rogues and him interrogating questioning people and doing voice overs in a goofiest growl she can for batman but she also does voices for everyone else (it gets to the point where penguin puts a hit out and is actively trying to expose the youtubers identity bc steph does this terrible whiny british accent when she’s imitating penguin)

She starts her channel right after Bruce fires her from Robin and still does it to this day

Bc if she’s gonna get shit for not being Tim might as well go all the way right?? She’s just doing the opposite of what Tim’s doing or outright copying him depending on which would annoy them the most

Stephanie records batman dangling some guy off a roof for the 37th time this week while going “You said the cheese on the nachos at your restaurant was imported directly from Italy but I saw you…THIS CHEESE IS FROM A GROCERY STORE…in GOTHAM… do you know what batman does to liars??”

Batman’s chasing the joker? Again? Here comes Stephanie with her fucking camera “Joker baby, you know that fight with Cobblepot meant nothing to me” “You know what, Bats? Fight whoever you want!” “Why are you going to Cobblepot’s lair with a grenade launcher? Baby…?” “Well, if the wellbeing of fucking Oswald is sooo important to you, you fucking cheater ☹️ I’m gonna kill him” “HUH” Stephanie’s joker voice is pretty good but she stops when Jason follows her channel after admitting he watches it (however Damian gives zero fucks and edits in his scarily accurate joker impression and will break into Jason’s apartment at random to do his joker impression)

Stephanie’s Duke impression is just her making puns in a bad robot voice and Duke hates it sm bc she’s saying shit like “Don’t signal for backup bc I’m already Signal-ing this ass whooping” “The yellow is the Signal for you to run” “Hey hey hey, night time is when you do this stupid shit rn is Signal Time” “The sun is my Signal to be vigilant-y” “Setting off that alarm should’ve been enough of a Signal for you stop” (Dick made tshirts and Duke refuses to talk to him when he wears them)

You legally have to be a level 79 hater to be a vigilante in gotham so most of Steph’s videos esp after Bruce has pissed her off are just her shitting on batman in a terrible growl “Damn, I’m getting too old for this…my knees hurt so much” “Nightwing thinks he’s funny, asking me if I remember the dust bowl…mf I remember the fucking big bang” “I’m so good at this, I don’t think anyone knows I’m a vampire” “Bruce Wayne owns gotham general and can’t cure Alzheimer’s?? I hate that asshole, I don’t even remember where tf I’m going” “I wanted to be Spider-Man and now I’m this” “Ooh, I’m Batman and I hate fun, happiness, and joy” “Don’t do crime, be like me…perpetually bitchless and breaking kneecaps” “Some people need coffee for a pick me up but I just need to see a purse snatcher piss their pants” “I don’t actually meld into the shadows, I just have Apple Maps and it takes me the long way”

Batman’s fighting or arguing with black mask?  Stephanie has been waiting for this moment so every video with black mask is just her making fun of black mask to the point where there’s barely any batman slander “My real names fucking Roman so I had to go all out with this stupid ass costume…I’m not even a real gothamite, I’m from metropolis” “Sionis…I don’t care… you blew up thirteen hostages” “ITS NOT MY FAULT, OKAY?! Did you know you’re supposed to wash masks? Especially if you wear the same one everyday? Bc I fucking didn’t” “…Sionis…” “THERES MOLD ON MY FACE and this mask smells like ASS” “Everyone knows that, you moron…How do you think I found you? I can smell your stench from damn near two miles away…” “I’m like scary though right??” “No, Sionis, you just have poor hygiene…and issues” “Dammit, I’m like a dollar tree version of two face” “Not quite, what’s lower than that? Dollar tree is too good for you…don’t tell joker but Harvey’s way-”

Stephanie has a two hour video of batman grappling across Gotham just shitting on metropolis and sixty seven minutes of it is just Superman slander in a terrible growl

There’s short clips of cass suddenly disappearing or appearing out of nowhere before and after dismantling someone with the michael myers theme playing in the background (Cass does dramatic flips and landings every time steph records her)

When Bruce complains about the threat to their identities and compromising ongoing missions/investigations, Stephanie (who is purposely trying to piss him off) just looks him dead in eye and goes “Well, you’re not the boss of me sooo” so Tim gives a presentation and shuts down every single argument Bruce makes just to be contrary bc he’s a fucking asshole

Tim only has a problem with it when Stephanie and Damian start working together bc Damian  does concerningly accurate impressions and Damian keeps making Tim sound like a fucking idiot and it’s worse bc he can mimic his speech patterns (“I can’t do this anymore… I’m sad and pasty… Call the fifth robin, you know…the only competent robin…”) 

Like Damian’s repeating one of Tim’s caffeine concoction induced rants about bagels in Tim’s voice while Steph is growling at him to focus in her batman impression

When Tim brings his complaints to Bruce about Stephanie’s youtube account, Bruce cites Tim’s own argument back to him so Tim takes over editing and recording to be an asshole

[theerurishipper]

So, as a child abuse survivor and someone who has been sexually assaulted by men who think they're entitled to take what they want Adrien is canonically a god damned dick.

He sexually harrasses Ladybug. When told NO he once let 2.161 million people drown because he was busy throwing a tantrum

Being a victim of abuse does not excuse the abuse of others.

He might not mean any harm but you know who else doesn't mean any harm? Gabriel. My goddamned mother.

Not meaning harm- lacking malice- does not mean harm is not caused.

People are going on about him being a rich white guy because anyone else acting like that in public would be considered an antagonist (in fiction), in jail, or have an active warrant for their arrest. And that's assuming they aren't killed for it.

First off, I am truly very sorry for your experience. No one should have to go through that.

But I still do disagree.

Adrien's pushiness when it comes to expressing his affections for Ladybug are in the same boat as Marinette being a stalker or Chloe being pushy with Adrien: it's a joke. You may find it to be a poor one, certainly, but it's a joke nonetheless. Miraculous relies on this kind of humor, it's not meant to be taken seriously. You can have issues with it, but imho acting like it's any kind of legitimate criticism of his character probably makes people like me less inclined to listen to any actual criticisms you may have.

I don't say this to trivialize your experiences, and if the joke is hurtful to you, you are well within your rights to dislike it or talk about how it's in poor taste to make jokes about these things, but that's all it is, a joke. It's absurdist humor. It's not meant to be taken at face value. It would be creepy if Marinette seriously had Adrien's schedule mapped out, tried to break into his house, or stole his personal items, but it's not supposed to be that way because it's a joke.

And as for your complaint about Adrien leaving people to drown, you can go ahead and blame Master Fu for that one. It's stated quite clearly in the show that the heroes couldn't do anything because everything is underwater. And he's staying there because he's waiting for Ladybug. Making up imaginary civilians who are drowning now isn't a good criticism. Ladybug spends a good amount of time underwater, but there's no-one there. There's no civilian begging for Chat Noir's help as they drown while he ignores them, so suffice to say that we're supposed to assume everyone is safe and sound. This is a kids show, so unless we're shown that people are in danger, we aren't supposed to assume they are.

And then let's talk about Adrien almost quitting.

I'll say it straight: he has every right to quit. He's a 14-year-old kid. This isn't his job. He's well within his rights to quit if he feels like this is detrimental to him. And it isn't about Ladybug not returning his feelings like you seem to be implying. This is about Ladybug keeping secrets from him and leaving him in the dark even though he's supposedly her partner. It took a situation like this for Master Fu to pull his head out of his ass and come give Adrien the tools he needed to do the damn job you're accusing him of not doing. How is he supposed to do anything if he isn't given then necessary tools and knowledge to do it? Should he just accept that he's being ignored and left in the dark? Accept his new role as Ladybug's unquestioning lapdog?

This is not Ladybug salt btw, this is Master Fu salt only, in this house we don't like Master Fu.

Anyway.

Literally look at why he tries to quit.

Adrien:(grimly) If you don't tell me what Ladybug is hiding from me, I'm done! Plagg: You can't do that! Adrien:(bitterly) Why not? No one'll know if I quit. No one'll care!

He doesn't think he's needed. He doesn't think anyone would care if he quits.

This isn't because of any entitlement. It's because he's being cast aside and left in the dark. It's because his partner (it's not her fault either, to be clear, it's Master Fu's fault) is keeping secrets from him even in this time, so he assumes he isn't needed and decides to quit because he feels like he's unnecessary and unwanted, and that no one will care if he quits. Adrien already has very low self-worth, and this is just adding onto all that already. If it is detrimental to his mental health, then he definitely has the right to step aside and quit.

So yeah. If this ask was to get me to change my mind, I'm sorry, but it didn't. You're entitled to your opinion, of course, but I think I've made my opinion on the matter clear.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Accurate and non-bigoted Batfam headcanons

Dick:Master chef,optimistic ray of sunshine but also a genius with a lot of edge,brownskin romani with a hooked nose and a wolfcut,eldest daughter,married to Kory and Roy and Lian,Mar'i,Jake and Cara(Dickroy kid)'s loving mom and demisexual who experiences sexual harrasment often due to objectifying and degrading assumptions but is defended by her spouses and her other loved ones

Jason:Darkskin afrolatino who's heavily connected to his culture,goth punk asshole who tries to act cool but is actually an absolute loser,fucked up ass morals with a proper redemption arc and no coddling,gamer and literature nerd with a neapolitan food addiction,straightedge as a coping mechanism,only dates his friends and weirdgirls(I.e trans women,autistic women and women of color)and Rhato's only DC-assigned member is Artemis while the rest of the run gets an entire rehaul

Tim:Half white native(cherokee),energy drink addict,narcoleptic,has the personality of a normal traumatized teenage boy,Jack was an ass dad but not physically abusive and Janet was the perfect mom,no special powers,treated nicely by everyone but also bullied by everyone because he deserves both and enjoys both too and his adult hero name is Hawk

Cass:Brown monolid eyes and light brown skin,butchgender transbian,tradgoth,makes her own team called 'The Unbreakables' consisted entierly of parental abuse victims,unhinged and unrestrained,very kind and has a big soft side but she's mostly really rough,eternal Jason beef and he knows not to test her and the only Batkid who's Batman

Duke:Afrocurls fade,adopted by Bruce officially and is the 5th Robin instead of Damian,an Outlaw,him and Jason are eachother's Robin,has reality warping powers that made the N52 never happen,has a black girl love interest that's the Starfire to his Robin,post-Rhato makes his own team called 'The Lights' and his adult mantle is Eris(he's so femme and my tag for him is 'Signal of Hope and Chaos' for obvious reasons)

Damian:Brownskin and hook nosed like Dick but in a distinctively arab way,properly potrayed as the brutally irreversibly traumatized abuse victim he is instead of 'the demon child',gets a healing arc and NOT a redemption arc because he's never done anything wrong in his entire fucking life,Maps is his love interest and his team is the All New Teen Titans consisting of a proper cast and writing like the Rhato fixit(including Nell being Batgirl and neither aged up Jon or D*mijon)

Stephanie:Blasian specifically half south korean and half jamaican(her last name is Brown)with black butterfly locs,fat flat queen,full force pastel punk aesthetic and lifestyle and vigilanteism,part of The Unbreakables and was a 90s Young Justice member,Cass' soulmate by choice in every universe and vice versa,mentored by Talia as Robin and is Batwoman with her own solo run about it

Babs:Black/white mixed natural redhead,butch trans lesbian married to Dinah,stays Oracle and is good friends with Kory,highkey a losergirl but she makes it work and something of a friendly old soul

Bruce:Proudly jewish,jumbled mess of a man who fucks up a lot and does good just as much and leaves the adoption of troubled but good kids to his now grown kids because he's a bit too tired to raise any more and that's perfectly okay

All of them:Transgendah with da 'tism