under rim glasses

fuyunoakegata  asked:

11 Dick, Babs please?

Oracle sat in front of the computer in the clocktower, unmoving, her glasses reflecting the screen in green numbers and surveillance images and the scowling profiles of perps. Her headset lay abandoned on the floor, the crackle of interference and concerned voices drifting up to unhearing ears. 

Suddenly, a security warning flashed across the screen in blinding red, startling her out of her turbulent, raging mind and emotions. She looked up to the corner of the screen and saw the live footage of Nightwing, stumbling into the clocktower lift and collapsing in it as it brought him up to the top level.

Barbara was out of the computer room in an instant, wheeling herself into the hallway towards the lift. Her breathing was fast, her heart thumping in her chest so loudly it hurt, sitting there, waiting for those doors to open. She dug her nails into her knees and didn’t even feel the pain. It was nothing compared to the burning pain that seemed to be cutting through the deepest, most inward crevasses of her soul. 

She had never known pain like this before. And Barbara knew pain. 

The doors swished open, the automated voice identifying Nightwing (”Nightwing, critical condition”) after the full-body scan, and Barbara let herself down from her wheelchair. She crawled on hands and knees to where the crumpled body of Nightwing lay, bruised and battered and bleeding. 

Dick,” Barbara hissed, her voice desperately quiet, no more than a whisper. She positioned his head in her lap, gazing down at him, slapping his cheek roughly in an effort to wake him. “Dick Grayson. If you don’t wake up this instant, I swear to god, I’m going to dump you for good.”

“Boy. You sure know how to… kick a man… when he’s down.”

A smile twitched on the corner of Nightwing’s lips, his laugh turning into a rough cough, that turned into a groan as his face contorted in agony.

“Don’t move, you’re in critical condition.”

“Yeah… so your elevator… just informed me,” Dick said lightly. But his voice was weak, faraway, and Barbara knew she had to perform some basic medical procedures and check right away. They couldn’t wait for Alfred, or Leslie.

Get the hell up, her mind ordered her gruffly. If you don’t get him to the medical unit, he could die of blood loss. 

But her body refused to move, staring down at the broken man she held in her arms. The man who still threw out jokes and smiled even when he was at death’s door. Even when the pain was obviously too much to bear. 

Dick blinked up at her with a soft, sad smile, and reached his hand up to her face. He wiped the coursing tears away with a gloved hand, and left it there, caressing her cheek. Barbara met his gentle gaze, and allowed the love held in those blue eyes, boundless and deep as the sky, to wash over her. 

“Why are you crying, Babs?” he asked into the stretching stillness, the whir of manmade machines the only sound beyond their out-of-sync heartbeats.

I almost lost you,” Barbara said finally, her voice a broken harmony with the body of the man she knew she loved but too often couldn’t find the way to tell him.  

Dick laughed then, and surprise shot through Barbara’s eye to hear the utter joy that filled that laugh in octaves of childish, innocent mirth. 

“You can never lose me,” he countered, hidden strength rebelling against the wounds, escaping blood and breath. “I’m yours. Forever and always.”

As the tears continued to rush down her cheeks and under the rims of foggy glasses, Barbara leaned down and kissed him. The cold, metallic taste of blood undercut by a sweetness, a warmth she knew only Dick possessed. 

A warmth she knew she couldn’t live without. 

Send me a number and a pairing, and I’ll do a short (100-300 words max) description.

Dark End of the Street Part 4

{Part 1} {Part 2} {Part 3}


Word Count: 1,577

~Sorry this took so long. This is the final chapter for the fic.

     Saeran entered the toy shop and made his way back to Saeyoung’s work room. It was quiet and dark, as the shop was still closed. He spent some time looking over all of the things Saeyoung had created. As much as he hated to admit it, he had talent when it came to these things.

     Sure, Saeran could create whatever he needed to if he was handed blueprints or something. But there was a life in these toys that Saeyoung added. He made these things from his mind, and his genius uniquely shone through.

     He found his brother at his work desk, tinkering with something. His back was facing him and Saeyoung didn’t bother to turn, although Saeran was more than sure he heard him come in.

     “You left the door unlocked you idiot,” Saeran broke the silence.

     “So? I’m a little busy right now, did you need something?” Saeyoung didn’t break his concentration from his project as he spoke.

     “Yeah. I need you to know something.”

     Saeyoung still didn’t flinch. Saeran couldn’t figure out if that made it easier or harder for him. Why was he feeling sudden guilt right now? He was fiddling with the lining of his pockets and rocking slightly on his heels.

     “I am moving out,” he managed to say, “but I’m taking her with me.”

     At this Saeyoung stopped what he was doing. His crimpers dropped onto the table top and he was still in his seat. Saeran took a quiet deep breath and filled his lungs. It was getting out now, and he felt mostly relieved.

     “That’s right. She’s coming with me. I…I’ve been fucking her for weeks now,“ he almost regret saying that part but there was no turning back, “she loves me…and I love her.”

     He stood there waiting. For a punch? For him to yell? He didn’t know what to expect. All this time he had been waiting for this moment. The taste of victory? Could he call it that, even? Did anyone even win in this situation? He felt like he did. All of those weeks of pining after you. Watching you with his brother and getting sick at the sight. Soaking up every smile and moment you ever gave him like a pathetic and needy sponge. He lay awake thinking of you, and how you smelled, and the how your hands would feel on his skin. Could he deny the satisfaction he took from your love? As terrible as it was, he couldn’t.
He heard a soft sound. A sniffle maybe, or a whimper. Saeyoung’s shoulders shook slightly and he spoke.

     “I know,” his voice quivered.


     “I’m not stupid. It’s been obvious for a while now. Did you really think you could hide that shit from me? I’ve seen the…way you look at her from the beginning. And you really should be more careful about where you leave your clothes. I started to think you were doing it on purpose… Just to be an asshole. Just to shove it in my face.”

     “So why didn’t you say anything?”

     Saeran’s voice was harsh and incredulous. He thought you had been fairly discreet. In this moment he felt his brother was weak. Maybe weaker than himself…and he felt, at the same time, closer to his brother than ever. They had both taken a backseat to each other when it came to your love. For a time, at least.

     He watched as his brothers fists clenched and slammed onto the desk. He felt almost sad for him. It was rare to see Saeyoung upset like this.

     “I don’t know!” he turned to face Saeran.

     His eyes were filled with tears and he had a look of betrayal. A pitiful look, and Saeran’s face was unmoving. His unapologetic stance only served to hurt Saeyoung more and he struggled to gather himself. His heart was racing and it was hard to breathe. “You knew it,” he thought to himself. But knowing and believing were two very different things in this circumstance. His mind was plagued with so many thoughts of you and his brother. The subtle changes in your body language and the distance he felt between you growing more and more over the past few weeks. He told himself it was all in his head. That you two couldn’t possibly…

     “I guess I didn’t want to believe it. Like a dumb ass I kept…” he choked, “kept thinking she would come back to me? That she loved me, still…that she was confused or something and it would pass…” he sobbed for a second, swiping his fingers under the rim of his glasses to wipe his eyes.

     Saeran stood there watching his brother break down. There was nothing he could do. It was making him uncomfortable and he crossed his arms and sighed.

     “Saeran…do you hate me?” Saeyoung asked.

     “Don’t be stupid,” he scoffed, “this is just like you. To make this about yourself. As if I did all of this as some sort of ploy to get at you? I didn’t…we didn’t plan for this to happen. But I love her, and that’s all this is about. Don’t overcomplicate this in that stupid brain of yours.”

     “I see…” his voice and face fell flat and he turned white, “and she is in love with you, too?” he couldn’t stop his hands from clenching once again at the thought.

     “Yeah…she’s moving her stuff into my room right now. I should be helping her. I’ll get a place as soon as I can so you don’t have to worry about that.”

     Saeyoung took a deep breath and did his best to gather himself.

     “Fine. It’s not a problem” he looked away, “I won’t…I won’t bother you two.”

     Saeran was inching toward the door now. He couldn’t stand the sight of Saeyoung anymore. He saw his own face in his twin. His own anguish and hurt, this could easily be him right now if things had gone just a little differently. Though he knew he wouldn’t have handled it as well. Saeyoung would forgive him no matter what, that’s just who he was. Did he admire or hate that aspect of him?

     “I’ve said what I needed to say,” Saeran spoke matter-of-factly, “you should pull yourself together before you come home. I swear Saeyoung if you cry in front of her…”

     For a moment he didn’t think his brother would even respond. Saeyoung was looking off into the distance with vacant eyes.

     “I know where I stand now,” he was monotoned and unblinking, “don’t worry…I won’t get in your way.”

     Saeran didn’t even bother to reply before he walked out and head back to the apartment. He found you on moving your clothes to his room now. He gave a slight shrug to your anxious face and without a word jumped in to help you out.

     It was a somber evening as you silently moved what was left. He hoped that you’d have more fun when you moved into your own place. He wanted to hear you laugh and see you smile as you made him do stupid shit like hanging shelves and rearranging furniture. He’d grab you in the middle of unpacking and fuck you right there, or maybe have you in every room as soon as you arrived to your new home? 

     The door closing interrupted his thoughts and you two were now staring at Saeyoung. The rims of his bloodshot eyes were red but he seemed composed. Saeran was glad, though he felt you tense up. No one moved for a minute as his eyes searched the both of you. He looked like he was struggling to say something but he couldn’t get it out.

     “Saeyoung…” Saeran heard your sweet voice call out for him hesitantly.

     He studied his twin with a furrowed brow, waiting to see what he’d do. What he’d say. A tired smile grew on Saeyoung’s face, but his eyes were still sad.

     “I’m happy for you both,” his voice was hoarse. Probably from crying all day.

     The smile faded and he walked without another word or glance and closed himself off in his room. Seeing how upset you looked, Saeran pulled you into his room and lay with you on the bed.

     “It’s late anyway, we can finish tomorrow.”

     He pet your head as you lay on his chest. He just wanted to protect you and comfort you. He smiled in the dark. As shitty as this was, he was elated at the thought that you were there now. In his room. With Saeyoung home. Laying on his chest. And you’d be there the next night. And the next night? And in the morning…it was almost too good to be true. He never thought he deserved to be happy before. He never wished for it until he met you. He found himself imagining a life with you, trying to be a better person for you. Having a family, maybe?

      “He just needs some time…” Saeran whispered.

     You nodded into his chest and wiped the few stray tears that managed to escape you.

     “You mean everything to me, ya know?”

      You looked up at him, “I love you,” you sniffled and wiped your eyes once again.

     His heart jumped.

     “And I love you. Can I get a smile?”

     You nodded with a grin.

     “Good girl,” he pulled you in for a kiss.


“AGENT CARTER” Has a Lot More to Give

In episode 2, Agent Carter (Hayley Atwell) is driving into a dangerous night with the radio broadcasting a 1940’s “Captain America” serial.  Predictably, the Captain is once again rescuing the helpless girl in distress with a similar name to hers.  She shrugs and changes the channel. That’s when I fell in love with “Agent Carter”.  Clearly, the creative crew behind this well-written series had the same opinion of traditional Marvel Comic stories that this blogger does.

Officially, ABC only intended “Marvel’s Agent Carter” to be an eight-episode filler for their highly anticipated, highly promoted, but generally disappointing “Agents of Shield”. “Shield” was very much in the Marvel Comic mold; popping out lots of action and “strong female characters”.  Marvel was much applauded in the 90’s when they traded in their D-cup Damsels in Distress for D-cup female action heroes in black, sleeveless, tight-fitting dominatrix gear. Their target audience was still young males and thus their feminist message came off with the sincerity of a women’s studies paper written by Bevis and Butthead. In fairness to Marvel, their female heroes weren’t all that different from their male counterparts: nearly indestructible, always fearless, and always knowing and doing the right in a tireless campaign against evil – just like you and me!…Well, me anyway.

Agent Peggy Carter has proven to be different. Like Agent Carter, Clark Kent wasn’t well respected at his job; after all he was never around when the other reporters were getting the big “Superman” story.  Clark didn’t much care.  After all, under those square horn-rimmed glasses and double-breasted suit was a big chest full of self-esteem with an “S” on it.  In contrast, Peggy’s superpowers are learned and earned. Sure, she can take out a 200 pound gangster with a stapler and break a Russian code with pen and paper but it’s clear that her powers didn’t come from exposure to an unknown radioactive chemical but from hard work and perseverance, just like a real person. Deception by people she trusted and the disrespect of her peers brings her real anger. The support of a true friend brings her real joy. 

Television is awash in pretty girls with hourglass figures and broad shouldered, square jawed men that look good, stand in the right place and deliver their lines clearly, but that’s about all they do. Every now and then an ensemble of skilled actors and actresses show up and prove themselves worthy of telling reaction shots or comic asides that are essential to rich story telling. It’s impossible to imagine “Agent Carter” working if Jarvis had been played simply as the stuffy butler, Angie the ditzy waitress, Dottie the evil bitch or Dooley the blowhard boss. Each of the major characters is capable of making the audience laugh, cry or cringe from one scene to the next.

Television season finales have a deserved infamy for big confrontations, big explosions and cliff-hanger endings that they hope will leave the audience in nail biting suspense but far too often end up leaving them scratching their heads. Even a masterfully written, shot, and acted series like the 90’s “Twin Peaks” concluded with a swath of chaos, destruction and “who’s gonna’ live and who’s gonna’ die?” questions that never were resolved. “Agent Carter” got it right. Justice was served…sort of. Villains got their comeuppance…some of them. Troubling personal issues were put to rest…for now. There is plenty of room for more of what “Agent Carter” has given us, as to whether the Nielsen numbers, market share projections and network sponsorship will offer us the chance to see it is the real cliff-hanger.

Colors ||Closed||


Stiles groaned and rubbed his face up under his thick, plastic-rimmed glasses as he pulled up to the school parking lot on Monday. Of course it was Monday. What other day could make Stiles feel this crappy? Sighing heavily, he pulled his keys out of the ignition and rooted around for his backpack before slipping out of his Jeep.

Stiles was a sophomore at Beacon Hill’s high school. And, on top of that, a total nerd. Talking comic book-loving, video game-playing, book-reading, anime-watching, glasses nerd. He’s always been that way and, in this school where, like every school, sports were king, he was sort of the outcast. He had his friends though, Scott and his girlfriend Allison and a few people who didn’t totally hate his guts, so he never really had an issue there. What he did have an issue with was the jock. Oh, the jocks.

Jackson, Danny and their whole group just loved picking on him. They constantly poked fun at him, smacked him around and locked him in storage closest, broke his glasses and then made him do their homework. Total assholes. So they were a big reason Stiles never looked forward to school.

Another reason was, ironically, his best friend. He loved Scott, really he did, but the guy had just met his soulmate and, as a result, had finally been able to see the colors. And he wouldn’t stop talking about them. Marveling at the green grass and blue sky, the orange of a basketball or the dark blue of a textbook. Stiles even caught him staring at his eyes for a long time, just saying how they were such a pretty cinnamon brown. Stiles, of course, didn’t know what color cinnamon was, so that was pretty pointless.

He locked his car door and headed towards the front of the building, digging around in his backpack for his earbuds before he felt his shoulder collide with someone, the force making him whip halfway around. “Oh, sorry, I…” Two things made Stiles stop. One, was because the person he had run into was notorious loner Derek Hale and two was because when he touched him, there was suddenly a flash of something in his vision as he looked at Derek, which his brain automatically supplied as ‘Green.’

“S-Sorry…I didn’t see you.” He finished

shibeme  asked:

Long distance!au

Thanks for submitting! <3

Jack looked around the airport, combing his hair down with his fingers while holding a sign with his girlfriend’s name on it in the other hand. Had he been told two years ago that he was actually going to meet someone he met online in person, he would’ve told you that you were crazy. However, standing in the middle of the airport wearing a new white collared that he spent hours picking out and trying to look as presentable as possible, adjusting the sapphire tie.

Today, he was going to meet her. He was going to meet the cute girl he’s been talking to for over a year via Tumblr under usernames ‘Jokul Frosti’ and ’HiccupJustHiccuped’. Granted, he’s never seen any pictures of the girl whatsoever, only sending her pictures of him so at least she knew what to look for in the crowded airport. He looked at the sign, the name “Hayley” written in black ink only to find it upside down. “Jesus,” he muttered as he turned it back right side up. 

While Jack was busy looking at his sign, he didn’t notice the flash of yellow and brown that was currently in front of him until he looked up to find a teenager in front of him with a Pikachu sleeveless hoodie on, the hood up so the ears were laying flat on his head and a green long sleeve shirt under it, wide rimmed glasses pressed against his freckled cheeks that were turning red. The white haired male looked around before back at the boy, raising an eyebrow at him. “May I help you?” he asked, smiling a little as his eyes scanned exactly where the teen came from.

“Jack …. i-it’s me … H-hayley ….” he said, looking up at Jack with worried green eyes that watched to see Jack’s reaction. When Jack didn’t reply for a few minutes, he licked his lips before hanging his head. “I’m so sorry …. yo-your Tumblr said you were straight …. and I really wanted to be with you …. it’s still me …”

“You’re a boy?” Jack finally choked out, actually looking at him to take in the absolute nerdiness that was Hayley. The Pokemon hoodie, the dragon necklace around his neck, the small Nintendo game boy key chain on his luggage, a star sticker that refused to come off the glasses …. everything that Hayley described ‘she’ was going to have. “You’re … Hayley …?”

"A-actually …. it’s Hayden ….” he muttered, playing with his sleeve while biting his lip while looking at the navy carpet. “L-look … you do-don’t have to de-” he was cut off in the middle of his sentence by Jack, who grabbed the side of his face lovingly before crashing his lips together in a deep kiss that he’s been holding back for years. Hiccup was taken by the first few seconds, moving his hand in total shock until he rested it against his luggage handle were he gripped it tightly. This … this was nice.

After about a moment, Jack pulled back with his thumbs caressing against his cheeks softly. Hiccup looked deeply into the blue eyes that he loved so much, licking his lips to savor the flavor of his boyfriend. “But I’m-“

“You’re still my Hiccup,” Jack whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you no matter what gender you are,"