Zombiezuku, Ch.2

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Chaotic Entrance Exam is chaotic

Izuku is not quite sure how this happened, but Kacchan is dragging him up the path to the gates of U.A. High while a pretty girl chatters at them. Also, Izuku is floating. This seems like a pretty important fact to mention. Izuku rarely defies gravity on his own.

“Keep him that way, Roundface,” Kacchan had grunted and started dragging the floating Izuku by his tie after the girl had used her Quirk to save Izuku from tripping. “Can’t run off to be fucking stupid that way.”

“I could sleep like this,” Izuku had realised.

The girl found that very funny. “You’re not nervous at all, huh?” She’d laughed sheepishly. “I’m so excited!”

“I’m just dead inside,” Izuku explained to her.

“Deku’s a fucking idiot, is what he is.” Kacchan looked like he was contemplating chucking Izuku into the sun.

He still looks that way now, actually. Izuku should probably not tempt fate.


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A Little Secret

For @camsthisky, @jerseydevious, @laquilasse, @chimaerakitten please don’t be surprised this happened after all that yelling. 

Thanks to @audreycritter and @thegalacticpope for giving me the perfect additions to this. 

Summary: Who knew telling your best friend about your newest pet would be such a bad idea? 

AO3 Link

Damian was on a mission, one that required the utmost silence and stealth. It was imperative he stay quiet as he inched through the house, his hands tight around his stomach to keep his jacket from moving.

He stepped lightly on the stairs, counting his way up to the single one that always squeaked, careful to step over it. He would be silent the whole way–chirp.

“Shush.” Damian whispered at his chest, hand moving up to press at his precious cargo, gently petting where he thought the animal’s head was.

“Damian? Practicing sneaking again?” Father stood atop the stairs with an amused look on his face.

Damian did his best not to blanch. “One can never practice too much, Father.”

“Hrn, don’t sneak up on Tim again.”

Damian shrugged, “Of course not, I have ascertained that no matter how many times I attempt to assist his training, he will not listen.”

“I’m not sure that’s the reason he doesn’t like you surprising him.” his father said, his lips half quirked into a real smile.

Before Damian could comment further his cargo reminded him of their presence, a muffled chirping coming from his jacket. His father’s smile faded.

“Damian, what was that noise?”

“Nothing to worry yourself over. It is simply the timer I set to alert me of when I’d passed my target sneak time.” Damian said, tightening his arms.

The chirping started again, and he rubbed a thumb towards the animals in his jacket, willing them to silence.

His father raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t take you for one who’d set bird sounds as a ringtone.”

Damian scowled, hoping the familiar motion would add credence to his words, “Grayson set it, he believed it to be a good joke.”

Father nodded, accepting the excuse easily. Damian made a mental note to blame more things on Grayson. It was easy to assume he would do a lot of the things Damian refused to admit enjoying. Blaming his influence would ease some of Damian’s embarrassment if he was ever caught. Grayson would be happy enough to accept blame, assuming he was in some way the true source of influence.

His chest chirped again and Damian cleared his throat. “I really must be on my way, Father.” he said, before pushing past Bruce and into the hallway beyond.

He didn’t look back as he hurried to his room, and kicked the door shut behind him. Alfred looked up from the spot where he was curled on the bed and watched him as Damian hurried to his dresser, pulling the bottom drawer open with a hand and shaking his jacket bottom open.

Four yellow, slightly bedraggled, chicks fell out and into his folded shirts. The tiny birds scrambled around, finding their bearings in the drawer as Damian grinned down at them.

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Day Out

This is for you @camsthisky because you were having a rough time the other day. 

It’s just fluffy fluff about young Dick visiting Wayne Enterprises with Bruce. Enjoy!

Dick glanced at Bruce to make sure he wasn’t looking before he jumped. It was little more than a small hop in the elevator to see if it would shake while it was ascending. He glanced over at Bruce again. He was now giving him an equally curious side eye.

“Something wrong, Chum?”

Dick gave him a wide grin, “Nope. Just checkin’ the stability of this old thing.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. “We had it installed last year.”

“And so, safety checks are in order. You never know B.”

“Hmm.” He said.

Dick nodded and thought that was the end of it. He was considering asking Bruce to jump with him, maybe the two of them could get something to shake while the elevator continued its eternal ascent, but he was pretty sure he already knew what his mentor was going to say.

He glanced back over anyway, and found Bruce already looking at him with a curious frown.

“You sure it’s not nerves?”

More like excitement. Dick was absolutely brimming to see the rest of Bruce’s building. He’d thought the first floor had been great, and at B’s knowing smile he’d felt he was sure to burst with whatever waited for him up in the offices.

“I get nervous when I bring home a report card, this place is amazing. Nothing to be nervous about here.” He said, rocking on his heels.

Bruce chuckled. “That’s good, I wouldn’t want you to be nervous on your first visit.”

Dick’s stomach bounced with the elevator as it stopped, and the doors slid open. He was ready to pinwheel out of it, but he was pretty sure if he did anything to tear the suit Alfred had specially laid out for today he’d get an earful, and more when he got home. He picked the boring option and stepped out with Bruce.

The moment he took in the office area his eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath.

“B.” He said. “B, this is so cool.”

He was tugging on Bruce’s sleeve and pointing at everything. Desks, lights, a coffee table that was made entirely of glass. Bruce was smiling, with a grin to match Dick’s own.

The woman seated at the reception desk looked up when they walked in and smiled at them. “Morning Mr. Wayne, who’ve you brought to see us today?”

Bruce put a hand on Dick’s back and Dick could see him standing a little straighter. “Morning, Beverly, this is Dick.”

“Good morning Mrs. Beverly, this place is amazing.” Dick waved.

She chuckled lightly. “I’m glad to hear it. Mr. Wayne’s told us a lot about you, I’m happy we’re finally getting a chance to meet you.”

“Me too, I’m really excited to be here.”

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anonymous asked:

8 year old Dick Grayson doesn't believe it's a coincidence that's there's a "bat" in acrobat.

“It’s fate…” eight-year-old Dick Grayson whispers with wide eyes, pulling out of a stretch, and Bruce’s mouth twists in a sceptical frown.

“Hrn… it’s just coincidence, Dick.”

The boy shakes his head furiously, pulling himself up on the vertical bar by lean arms. “No, B. It’s definitely fate. I mean what are the odds?”

He swings himself up, muscles straining against gravity and holding a handstand in the air before dismounting with a dramatic flourish, grinning widely.

“Acrobat,” he emphasises, even as Bruce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Eren's Berserk theme" edited
Hiroyuki Sawano (original song)
"Eren's Berserk theme" edited

Since I got tired of having to wait for the Season 2 soundtrack I tried changing up the speed and pitch of various existing tracks, sometimes with decent success! 

Check out the EP 25 “Berserk theme” (進撃st-hrn-egt20130629巨人) slower and deeper! 

anonymous asked:

I think I has a prompt regarding Bruce and Selina: Selina is stuck taking care of someone's infant for the weekend, but she's has no idea what to do... fortunately she knows someone who has raised/cared for plenty of children.

Selina narrowed her eyes, lips pursed as she stared at the tiny human sat in a high chair in front of her. It blinked up at her with deep, round almond-shaped eyes that seemed more mesmerised by Selina’s pearl necklace than anything else, reaching out for it energetically with little grabbing motions.

‘Not for you,’ Selina told the baby, leaning forward with her arms crossed and speaking in a low, vaguely threatening whisper.

‘Selina…’ Bruce’s strained voice was tinged with practiced disapproval as he returned to the Manor kitchen with a small pot of baby food. ‘Please don’t hiss at the baby.’

‘…Why not?’

‘You might make her cry.’

Selina blinked at him and glanced at the baby, who seemed to be perfectly fine and was now distracted by its own hands. She shrugged with a non-comital huff as Bruce sat down next to her and opened the small pot. She leaned over to sniff the orange mush and made a face at it, pulling back in disgust.

Eugh. What is that?’

‘Carrots,’ Bruce responded simply, using a small, colourful plastic spoon to scoop some out and hold it out towards the baby’s mouth. ‘Babies like-’

The baby made a sound somewhere in between a squeal and a cry and immediately waved its hands around, head twisting away from the spoon. One of its hands made contact with the spoon and sent it flying, along with a spray of orange mush, into Bruce’s face.

Selina cackled, collapsing into a pile on the kitchen table as Bruce sat there in stony silence, too stunned in the apparent betrayal of the moment to say anything.

‘I’m sorry,’ Selina grinned mischievously. ‘Did you want to finish that sentence?’


Bruce stood and left for a moment, coming back with some wet-wipes that he used to methodically clean himself, then the high chair, then the baby. The baby whined and Bruce murmured in a gentle, low tone as he wiped the baby’s mouth, the white cloth coming away in neon orange.

‘What’s your name, kiddo?’ he said, tickling under the baby’s brown, chubby little chin and eliciting a string of high-pitched giggles.

‘Elisa,’ Selina answered on behalf of the tiny person, watching Bruce with a curious look in her eyes.

‘Elisa…’ Bruce said, smiling as he tested out the name.

She had seen him with kids before, of course. Dick had only been nine when he had been taken in by Bruce, and Selina remembered how strange, but right it had been. It was as if Bruce had been born to raise Dick. As if his entire life had led to that moment in the circus when his heart fell with the Flying Graysons and then reached out to catch their son in a safety net of his own making.

And now, as she stared at him with this little baby, making airplane noises with the spoon of carrot much to her unbridled delight and joy, she couldn’t help but remember that feeling of rightness, her lips twisting with the beautiful irony of it all.

The mysterious and brooding Dark Knight of Gotham who struck fear into the hearts of criminals everywhere… was good with babies.

‘You know I have to return this one, right?’ Selina mocked gently.

‘Contrary to stipulations of the press and mass media…’ Bruce said distractedly as he fed Elisa and used the spoon to scoop the dribbles of mush up off her chin. ‘I do not keep a stack of ready-to-sign adoption papers in the Manor.’

‘Says the man who picks kids up off the street and at circuses,’ Selina quipped, unable to keep the warmth out of her voice. ‘So. The baby has been changed, fed… now what?’

‘Now, it’s nap-time.’

‘Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse for you to sleep on the job?’

‘We both resent that statement, don’t we?’ he said, making a face at Elisa as he swung her up out of the high chair and held her aloft above his head like an airplane, muscles flexing. Before Selina could ask him if he was actually referring to himself and the baby as “we,” he brought the baby down and continued. ‘Do you know how much sleep babies need?’

‘I know how little sleep bats apparently need,’ Selina replied, watching the baby as her chubby little hands patted Bruce’s stubbly chin with delighted shrieks.

‘A newborn needs approximately eight hours during the day, eight at night. By the time they’re six months, like little Elisa here, they need three hours during the day and around eleven at night.’

‘You’re a very informed babysitter.’

‘Isn’t that why you handed me a baby, said “you know what to do” and then tried to leave by the fourth-floor window?’

‘Actually, I did it mostly as a joke. And because, believe it or not, a lot of women have this thing about men holding babies.’

Bruce raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Selina with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, chin resting atop the baby’s head.

‘And is this… doing anything for you?’ he asked in a teasing whisper.

Selina’s eyes grew wide in mock horror as she let out an exaggerated gasp and put her hands over little Elisa’s ears.

‘Corrupting the baby with your foul mouth… have you no shame, Mr. Wayne?’

Bruce simply laughed.

‘I should have more,’ he said as he stood, holding the baby on his hip and reaching out for the pack of wet-wipes. Selina took a hold of his wrist, stopping him.

‘I’ll clean up, Bruce. Go ahead and take the baby up and I’ll join you once I’m done.’

She wasn’t sure he heard her at first, momentarily distracted by Elisa’s delighted peals of laughter and prodding fingers that were pulling at his mouth as if it were elastic. He screwed up his face at the baby and hefted her to his other hip.

‘Are you sure you’re not going to run away on me?’ he addressed Selina finally, wincing when Elisa caught ahold of his hair.

Selina was already daintily pulling wipes out of the packet.

‘I may not be a baby person Bruce, but I do have a sense of responsibility, believe it or not,’ she said lightly. ‘And I promised to take care of that baby, so I’m not going to leave her anywhere. Not even with you. After her nap, she’s coming with me on a heist and everything.’


She grinned, pleased that her teasing was getting under his skin as usual. ‘I’m kidding, Bruce. Go. I’ll be up soon.’

Bruce made a noise that sounded like reluctance mixed with doubt, but Elisa’s whines took priority in the moment.

‘C’mon, chum,’ he said. ‘Let’s go get you into bed, hm?’

Selina watched him leave with the baby and then sat there in the silence for a minute that drew itself out like grains of quicksand in a glass, thoughts and worries and feelings flowing through her mind in a pile.

She snapped out of her thoughts with a small sniff, and gave the high-chair a quick wipe-down. Then she started a cup of coffee.

By the time she made it upstairs, tiptoeing down the hallway to Bruce’s room, it had been an hour. Cautiously, she opened the door and poked her head in, squinting into the dim, curtained heaviness of late afternoon.

The baby lay on Bruce’s chest, supported by one of Bruce’s hands; its small body rising and falling as he breathed. Both were fast asleep.

Selina smiled fondly and walked over to the bed, carefully climbing onto it and holding her breath as she looked down at them. Playfully, she poked the baby’s soft cheek before leaning over to place a kiss on Bruce’s forehead, and then snuggled up beside him.

The words stuck themselves to the back of her throat, refusing to disappear no matter how many times she tried to swallow them down. They pressed forward against her tongue, bitter and sharp, the worry that had been with her ever since that first little Robin had swooped down and entered Bruce’s life.

I can’t give him what he wants.

She knew it was stupid, deep down. She knew that Bruce was going to tell her that it was stupid, that he loved her and didn’t believe in the antiquated, false idea that women weren’t women unless they had a baby. That he already had plenty of kids and was more looking forward to being a grandfather than a father to yet another child.

She knew it was stupid. But she also knew she had to hear the words come from his mouth to really believe them. 

So she took in a long, shaky breath.  

‘I’m not a baby-person, Bruce,’ she whispered, her voice quiet, almost childish as it wavered in suspended fear. ‘Is that terrible? Does that make me a bad person?’

She was met at first with silence. Then Bruce stirred, his free hand taking a hold of Selina’s, intertwining fingers, and giving it a firm squeeze.

‘No,’ he responded groggily from the depths of sleep. ‘No, it doesn’t.’

Selina bit her lip, burying her face into Bruce’s arm.

‘I love you, Bat,’ she mumbled into it.

‘I love you, Cat.’

anonymous asked:

BatCat + 16

Prompt: French kiss 

Rating: PG for implied sexy times

Selina sat perched on the iron balustrade of the Parisian hotel balcony, dangling her lithe legs over the edge precariously as she looked out towards the midnight city skyline.

Paris was only really beautiful at night. That was the brutal truth of it. During the day, it was bustling mess of tourists, cigarette smoke and littered streets. Tired,  agitated waiters and sweaty bodies that mingled with designer shops and grand cathedrals, and the smell of pee.

Selina scrunched up her nose just thinking about it. The city did not deserve it’s reputation as one of the most romantic places in the world. Not during the day.

But at night… at night, the city became illumined in a maze of a million quiet, twinkling lights. Constellations that surrounded the Tour d’Eiffel, Montmartre and the Champs-Élysées. The rosy macaron-pink of the sunset sky gave way to deep shades of blue, and the stars became paths of fire in the distant streets. Sad, crooning blues soon surrendered to onyx, and the pearly moon hung low and pregnant over the rows of apartments.

At night, Paris was perfect.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the delicious, crisp air, the aftertaste of wine still lingering on her tongue, and allowed herself to become lost in the moment. To find rest in her own restless spirit that seemed to urge her onward. Urged her to leave. To move on to the next city, the next heist, the next man.

But Selina found that, for once, she didn’t want to. In an uncharacteristic turn of events, moving on was the last thing she wanted.

She wanted to stay in this stillness forever.

A strong pair of arms strung their way around her chest, startling her into almost losing her balance.

‘You weren’t planning on slipping away, were you?’ Bruce said softly in her ear, his firm grip the only thing keeping her from falling.

Selina turned her face upwards and met Bruce Wayne’s grey-blue eyes with a coy smile.

‘In naught but my dressing gown? My, but wouldn’t that be scandalous,’ she crooned, her voice carrying a mocking lightness as she feigned offence with a small pout.

He said nothing for a long moment, gazing back into her eyes, moving his face closer, until their noses were touching.

‘Do you never get tired of moving, Cat?’ he said, his rough hand caressing her cheek.

She tilted her head at him playfully, running a finger across his lips.

‘Do you ever get tired of sitting still, Bat?’

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘When I’m with you.’


They sat there, staring out at the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise with a certain sadness, for these were creatures of the night. Bound to it, revelling in it… alive when the long shadows filled the streets with sirens and neon lights and satellites they could make wishes on.

A low growl suddenly emanated from behind Selina, long, drawn out and breaking what had been a very poetic silence by echoing across the rooftops and scaring some pigeons away.

Selina broke down in hysterics as Bruce cursed under his breath, and nearly toppled over the edge. Instead, Bruce pulled her back and she fell into his chest, still struggling to breath as she looked at the very picture of a man whose ego had been pricked.

‘Come on,’ she managed, wiping tears away from the corners of her eyes. ‘Let’s go get you some breakfast.’

‘It’s four in the morning,’ Bruce protested, following her back inside and sitting on the bed with a heavy sigh.

‘This is Paris,’ Selina countered, tossing her silky robe on top of Bruce’s head and shimmying into her black dress from last night. ‘The boulangeries have been up for hours making their pain au chocolate and pépitos.’

‘Hrn. Maybe instead we could stay in bed and you could kiss me again like you did last night.’

Bruce pulled the robe back from his face like a shroud and found himself face-to-face with Selina, her warm breath making his skin tingle.

‘Oh,’ she smiled coyly. ‘You mean, like this?’

The heat rushed to his cheeks, heart racing as she placed a hand against his bare chest and leaned in closer…

Selina pressed her lips against his right cheek and blew a raspberry.

‘That’s not what I had in mind,’ Bruce grumbled, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice, and watched her dejectedly as she fetched her coat.

She slipped on her heels and threw him a devilish, Cheshire-cat grin.

‘We’re in Paris, Bruce. Any kiss is technically a French Kiss. Now put on your clothes and buy me a croissant.’

thatmikasa  asked:

I was wondering which of the official soundtracks is/are your favorite/s? And why? <3

Season One OST:

  • st-hrn-egt20130629 
  • at’aek 0N taitn 
  • Counter Attack Mankind
  • omake-pfadlib
  • vc-pf20130218 
  • Vogel im Kafig
  • XL-TT
  • E.M.A.
  • Bauklotze
  • Call Your Name
  • The Reluctant Heros
  • gt20130218

Season Two OST (from what I’ve heard of the teasers):

  • son2seaVer
  • ERENtheCoordinate
  • Barricades


  • So Ist Es Immer
  • theDOGS

With all of these though, I’d have to say So Ist Es Immer is my all time favorite for a lot of reasons, but the main one is it is just an absolutely beautiful song. 

wonderlaughs  asked:

Bruce and Selina, 14. Also thank you, i love what you're doing

Title: Broken Record

Words: 1,500

Warnings: Implied past abuse/sexual assault, ptsd, traumatic flashbacks.

Prompt: ‘Kiss on the neck’

Selina Kyle’s heels clicked against the marble floor of the grand hall as she surveyed the abandoned remains of what had been the Wayne Winter Gala. She had passed the last of the guests outside, being shown their way out into the chill January air by the frowning butler, who had raised his eyebrows at Selina when she passed but still nodded in as if if to say: he’s been waiting for you.

She hadn’t meant to keep him waiting. Except that she had. The deliciously cold and bitter night had called to her in the form of a full moon and the promise of solitude; no meddling bat to bother her for once. And so, she had scamper  across the snowy rooftops of Gotham City for as long as she could stand before returning home to change. Showering quickly and drying her short hair. Slipping on a simple black dress, that was growing a little too tight around the hips. Red lipstick, a string of pearls and some eau de Chanel.

She wouldn’t apologise for taking the time to look good, she decided, wandering through the silence of the dead after-party in search of its host.

Italian opera crooned from somewhere deeper within the manor, and Selina followed it, running her fingers across the display cases and Ming vases and antiques that she passed in the West Wing. A treasure trove, and yet she was too distracted to care, unconcerned, barely lingering eyes moving towards the ballroom. The music drifted from inside, the door cracked open, and Selina bit her lip as she peeked into the room.

She finally found him, silhouetted against the great windows, watching the gentle snow fall to the ground as he held a glass of wine in his hand. Selina leaned against the entrance and drank in the sight, the image that most everyone else had of Bruce Wayne, the stoic, playful billionaire bachelor.

She had met too many of that type to be fooled by his charade. And, well, knowing that this was the man who dressed as a bat and chased after criminals at night had already shattered that image of his anyways.

‘I didn’t think you were coming,’ he spoke suddenly, his back still facing her.

Selina crossed her arms, playing with her pearl necklace distractedly as she shrugged.

‘I wasn’t going to, but then I remembered you had promised free booze.’

Bruce turned his head ever-so-slightly, and she noticed the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He held out his glass of wine, twirling it so that the red liquid sloshed around.

Selina grinned back at him, crossing the dim-lit ballroom as the aria surged with emotion and joined him by the window, taking the glass out of his hand lightly.  

She felt her cheeks grow warm as his gaze remained on her, and took a deep sip of the wine. She pursed her lips at the stillness in between songs and, searching around the room, caught the record player out of the corner of her eye.

‘Is that an antique?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling slightly from intrigue and the buzz from the wine.

Bruce tore his eyes away from her and looked at the record player.

‘It is,’ he responded.

Selina hummed and walked over to it, admiring the golden-sheer of the horn and beautiful red mahogany stand. Setting the wine glass down to the floor, she began searching through the records until she found one she was satisfied with.

Bruce continued to watch her as she placed the new record on the turntable. The record began to spin and she set the needle down, smiling when jazz and Nina Simone’s alluring voice came through, filling the quiet.

Then, she met his eyes.

Selina left her wine glass and, wandering over to Bruce, leaned against him. He did not reciprocate.

A sharp intake of breathe and his body tensed up.   

Angry, Selina glared up at him and stepped away.

‘So that’s how we’re going to do this?’ she said, her voice cold, hurt. The pride overflowing the dissonant space in between them. ‘If you didn’t want me here you could have said so, Bruce.’

‘Selina, wait.’

Bruce reached out and took Selina’s wrist as she turned to leave. She had half a mind to hiss at him, to revert to the roles that were easier, uncomplicated: I steal, you stop me, I scratch you. But instead, she found herself standing there, waiting in wordless anger for him to talk.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice softening. ‘I had a long night… and I had given up on you coming here tonight.’

Gently, cautiously, he pulled her back to him. His warm breath caressed her hand as he brought it to lips, closing his eyes to place a lingering kiss on it, and Selina felt her cold facade melt as the words that Bruce too often butchered and tripped over and awkwardly avoided were spoken clearly into the empty echo of the ballroom.

‘Stay. Please.’

A request. A question. A plea.

Selina sighed roughly, a low curse slipping out from under her breath as she stepped in closer and put one hand on Bruce’s shoulder. A small smile danced on the corner of Bruce’s mouth and he took her free hand in his, placing the other gingerly on her waist.

They swayed to the meandering piano keys and swooning voice, keeping it slow and simple, staying close. There was no one to impress here. For that suspended moment in time it was only Bruce and Selina in the whole wide world.

The music swelled and Bruce led her in a gentle spin, bringing her in again so that her back was pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around her.

Her arm reached up, hand finding his hair, running through it, head leaning to the side as he pressed his lips against the nape of her neck and whispered into it gently.

But she couldn’t hear his words. Only the blood rushing through her ears, heartbeat pounding violently in her chest.

Suddenly there were tears burning in her eyes and she was pulling away from him sharply and running.

Running, running, running. Footfalls echoing in the emptiness until she was crouching outside in the snow, breathing hard. She couldn’t even think. The cold air helped bring clarity, biting back the overwhelming nausea that came with the memories, the, dare she say it, trauma.

Selina hated being the victim. It was never a role, an identity, that she allowed herself to use, to claim, to bear. Even if, deep down, she knew the truth of it. That the young, naive teenager who had been brought up in a broken world of dark and grotesque caricatures, shadows that always reached for bare skin… that frightened, helpless girl was still trapped somewhere deep inside of her. Never allowed to leave.

She silenced her wrenching sobs as the footsteps crunched behind her in the snow.

‘I’m sorry…’ she stammered, her voice quiet. ‘I don’t know why I ran.’

A jacket was placed around her shoulders, and Bruce sat down next to her in the snow.

‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ he said. Ever calm, ever balanced. ‘You don’t owe me an explanation if you don’t want to give one.’

They sat there in silence for a moment, the whistling winter wind tugging at the jacket even as Selina pulled it around her body even tighter, burying her face into it, fighting against the places, the old haunting crevasses where her mind was going. Fixating, ruminating on the ghost touches of other men.

She felt terrible for this happening, tonight of all nights. She felt broken, as if she were damaged goods that could never be touched again without being reminded of her past.

Never allowed to love again.

‘Would you like Alfred to drive you home?’ Bruce pressed. And though he was gentle, Selina could hear the concern, the worry that dwelt beneath it. And it comforted her.

Selina bit her lip, shaking her head. ‘No.’

‘Okay… okay,’ he said, allowing them to return to the previous silence, brows furrowed as he considered the soft powdery snow that was leaving ashen specks in his black hair.

‘We could always have hot chocolate and watch a movie,’ Bruce suggested, forming a snowball in his hands awkwardly. ‘My pyjamas might be a bit big for you, but you’re welcome to them.’

And Selina couldn’t help but smile, wiping away the tears that had ruined everything, the back of her hand coming back wet and snotty.

‘I would like that,’ she said.

‘Good. Because Alfred would chew my ear off for letting you stay out here in the cold for another minute,’ he responded before standing and promptly launching his snowball at a statue of Venus.

The snowball hit one of the statue’s boobs with a resounding thump, and he winced, making it clear that wasn’t exactly what he had been aiming for.

But Selina’s chuckles turned into peals of laughter and snorts as she toppled over into a snowdrift that Bruce had to pull her out of.

‘Honestly,’ she said, teeth chattering. ‘I think you could use a lecture from your butler.’

‘Hrn. I avoid those when I can.’ Bruce threw her a boyish grin in response, his arm wrapped around her in a gesture of friendly intimacy. And she leaned in to Bruce’s warmth, allowing him to lead her back inside.

‘I get to choose the movie,’ she told him pleasantly.

‘As long as it isn’t about cats,’ Bruce conceded.

Ficlet snippet. Input needed

Okey folks specifically @hollyashton , @stephschoices and @misha726author , who I consider some of the most amazing writers out there and who’s work inspired me to join the fandom here. Had a question. Been working on a journal if you will for my MC Sienna in Endless Summer. Now at one point I did do as an excersise since my writing had gotten rusty, more of a story but heavily transcribed from the amazing talent at Pixelberry’s work. Basically just editing work I guess.
Anyway, like your thoughts on all this and or should I stick with the journal? (To see the Journal so far check the #Endless Journal or #fanfiction tags on my writing blog @shadowrebel-17 ’s page)

Anyway, here is a snippet from one of my fav parts of the series. The plane ride. Especially when she meets Jake. Followed by the same scene, in Journal form. Please please compare and give me feedback! Sorry its kinda long.


She works her way farther forward, leaning into the open doorway to the cockpit, thinking to her self about the trip so far. ‘Definitely a better way to fly then with an airline ‘

The pilot lay back in his seat, combat boots up on the panel, hands folded on his lap.

Sienna cleared her throat. “Excuse me, it’s Jake right?” weren’t we supposed to have landed by now…?”


“Wait?! You’re asleep!?” she says in shock.

“Hrn?” he jolts awake, then blinking he turns, shifting in his seat. Eyes meeting hers.

‘Ohmygod… he was in that dream too…’ she stares a moment lost in thought.

“Listen, Princess, don’tcha know its rude to wake someone who’s taking a nap?” he drawls out with a southern twang in slight annoyance.

“Princess?” she blinks.

“What can I say?” he smiles “I give nicknames to people who annoy me”

“In that case I’m calling you Aragorn” she retorts with a smirk.

He blinks. Startled by her quick comeback.

“Aragorn? I… don’t know what you’re talking about.” He briefly runs a couple fingertips over the week old stubble on his face.

She nods, indicating his features and the unkempt surfer hair.

“You know, Lord of the Rings?”

“Never heard of it” he deadpans but the smile tugging at the edge of his mouth breaks the façade.

“you’re a bad liar…” she grins knowingly.

“…fine” he smiles. His opinion of her going up visibly.

“Call me Aragorn. I like it. That man was a bad-ass. Anyway relax, we ain’t landin’ ‘till—“ he turns back towards the control panel. Then pauses.

“The hell? That time ain’t right.. and that ain’t right either!” he says giving the instruments a few hard whacks.

Sienna’s grip on the doorframe tightens a little more. ‘Maybe I should have called him Han Solo…’

“You sure you know what you’re doing…?” she says glancing around the cockpit, suddenly feeling like she was in that ‘piece of junk’ as Luke Skywalker had called it.

“Princess if you knew half the things I’ve survived you’d bet on me to get you through anyth—“

Out of nowhere sudden severe turbulence shakes the plane, throwing Sienna against the cockpit wall hard.
She winces, gasping in shock and pain as she attempts to get her footing back, hands gripping the co-pilot’s seat in a vice grip. Watching out the windscreen as the sky grows quickly black, the darkest storm clouds she’s ever seen rushing towards them.

“Aww that’s just great! that stormfront’s moving in quick!” Jake mutters, Jockeying the controls as he shuts the auto pilot down and resumes manual control, slowing the plane down just slightly as all the dials are swinging every which way. Alert tones sounding off and red lights flicking on.

“Get your ass in a seat, hear? And tell the others to buckle up!” he grits out.

“But….” She starts to say, a tremble in her voice.

“Now princess!” he barks with the air of command.

Her muscles respond almost on their own accord quickly taking her from cockpit and back to the main cabin, the close walls the only thing keeping her up as the plane rocks violently. Fellow passengers yelling amidst the chaos.

“Oh I am reaaally regretting that Airport Chipotle!” a big guy groans out.

“Don’t puke bro! If you puke, I’m gonna puke!” the foot ball player next to him yelps.

“Where the hell this storm come from, it was a clear day!” another blond girl, growls angrily.

“It happens okay? This is totally normal!” Jake the pilot yells out of the cockpit to the others.

“Yyyeah sure… THAT looks normal!” another person points out the window.

Orange and yellow balls of electricity and lightning coalesce from the sky, exploding around them in bright showers of sparks and bolts.

Sienna’s eye’s go wide as she grips a seat near Sean and another girl.

“It looks like ball lightning…” says one of the students who had been quiet to this point, a very petite girl in an orange sweater says in a mixture of awe and fear. Adjusting her glasses as they tried to fall off “But I’ve never seen anything quite like this!”

“This is all wrong! I cant die here surrounded by these morons!” the pale Aleister wails, gripping his arm rests for dear life.

“Everyone just breathe! We’re going to get through this!” Sean Gayle’s voice booms out above the others, looking to the red-headed girl in the seat in front of him.

“Oh god oh god oh god…” she whimpers beside where Sienna had paused.


Blisteringly loud thunder deafens everyone, white light shocking the plane as lightning strikes, sparks and a few curses swirling in the cockpit.

The jet like whine of the turbines outside the plane rise before stuttering then fade to nothing. The propeller blades slowing to windmill uselessly in the air.

“Welp, engines just lost power.” Jake says in a collected focused tone above the din. More alarms wailing in the cockpit. “Bringin’ her in manually. Everybody hold on!”

The shouting grew louder as everyone starts to panic after that.

Clinging on to the seat, frozen in place Sienna glances back, looking for Diego and spots instead, one person who’s not panicking.

A girl with her dark hair in a tight ponytail and a long scar across her eye sits alone in the back of the plane. Her face silent and unfazed.

Staring, not remembering meeting her yet Sienna is suddenly shook as a hand pulls on her shoulder, Lila, the tour guide trying to get her attention. “Sienna! Safety first! Please find a seat!”

Sienna quickly looks down and takes the seat beside her, the plane lurching up the seat to meet her as she tumbles in, fumbling with her belt.

Next to her a girl sits still as a statue, face drawn tight. Skin pale as she doesn’t turn, face forward as she clings to the arms of the seat.

“Just Breathe, it’ll pass.” Sienna says, trying to channel the courage she’s seen in the pilot, Sean behind them, and even the spooky girl in the back.

“This can’t happen… not yet… it’s too soon…” she manages out. Her chest rising and falling shallowly, not breathing well. Cold sweat making her long red hair cling to her face and neck.

Biting her lip, Sienna gets an idea then smiles, “hey, why couldn’t the melons get married?”

“wha… what? I.. have no idea?” she stammers. Looking over at her for the first time.

“Because they Cantaloupe!” Sienna grins in a cheeky fashion.

She stares back at her blankly for several long moments before speaking “Because… they can’t elope! That is the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard.”
She attempts it stifle a giggle, but fails breaking out into the most infectious laughter Sienna had ever heard.

‘mission accomplished’ Sienna smiled to herself.

“Are you positively mad? This isn’t the time for jokes!” Aleister snarls.

Sienna is about to give a sharp retort when the girl interrupts “no, this is the perfect time for jokes!” she smiles back at Sienna sweetly, taking her hand, color returning to her face as she is breathing normal again, the din seeming to fade for the moment around them.

“I’m Quinn.”


Outside the blasts of wind, lightning and energy is reaching a fevered pitch.

“I think we’re almost out… hold on!” Jake grits out. Knuckles white as he works the yoke hard, trying to hold course, feathering the blades to stop them from spinning.

An eternally long moment later they break out into a clear dazzling blue sky.

“whohooooo! We’re alive!” the big fellow, Raj bellows out, fist pumping the air as other cheers and applause or signs of relief fill the air.

“Sienna look… there it is!” Quinn says looking out the window.

“Get a good look now cause we’re coming in fast” Jake calls back. “Welcome to La Huerta!”

Outside seeming to rise mythically out of the sea is a large island covered in rich emerald green life, glistening streams and long beaches, dominated by a massive mountain volcano in the center, a column of white steam rising into the air.

“La Huerta Tower this King Air X-ray Charlie Delta Mike Kilo requesting emergency priority to land!”

Jake waits several long moments with no response as he maneuvers the gliding craft towards the airport.

“Carlos! Pick up you lazy bastard. It’s Jake!”


“Ignoring me won’t make me forget the hundred bucks you owe me. Like it or not we’re coming in.”

A while later, smooth as glass the plane sails into the airport. Landing roughly on the dirt runway and coasting fast Jake jigs it into the empty hanger then stops.

If anyone had been a pilot they would have noticed the remarkable skill that took with out power but alas for Jake. No one seems to have cared at this point.
“Meh” he mutters. Unhooking his headset and shutting down the systems.

One by one the passengers descend the stairs and into the warm tropical sunshine.


And now same scene in the Journal.


So after that we noticed that the flight was taking longer than expected so I went up to check what was up with our pilot.

On the way met some of the other ten winners talking with our tour guide, Lila. Who might I add is… ok remember “tour guide Barbie” from Toy Story 2? Yeah that’s her. Perky and sunny as a Pina Colada. Great… now I want one.

Ok so anyway I go to ask the pilot and….. he’s totally asleep. Yep. Feet on dash, head on chest. And probably I would have flipped out if… if it wasn’t for the fact that I got distracted by the fact that HE was the beach-boy soldier in my dream earlier. Yep. Well… that and the fact of that southern drawl, blue eyes and that smile…

Oh yeah and apparently he gives nicknames to people that annoy him. So I’m “Princess”

Honesty, I… kinda like it. And because he seriously looks the part of a scruffy ranger I called him Aragorn.

Yeah and I may have a crush on him too… did I mention those eyes? He’s like, part Han Solo, part Aragorn, part Colonel Jack O’Neill from SG-1.

Anyway, right after that things got… scary like, frickin’ terrifying.

This big, black storm front hits, and throws me into a wall. And its bad. Like fire ball lightning and deafening thunder, Armageddon like bad.

I kinda got the sequence of things a little jumbled in my memory, honestly for the first half of it I just clung to a seat in shock, taking it all in ‘till Lila shook me out of it and helped me to a seat.

Somewhere in there the plane got hit and the engines died, people screaming and all that. All but one. There’s this girl with us, with a blue hoodie and she’s got a scar across one eye and has these dark eyes. There’s something off about her not like… bad just… she wasn’t afraid. if anything she looked… determined.

So yeah pretty much beside her it was Jake, he’s the pilot and Sean that kept their wits about them. The girl in the seat next to me, she… she looked worse then me at this point. About to have a panic attack. I cracked a joke like, a bad one, you know. The Cantaloupe one. Yeaaah… hey I did pretty good for short notice!

Anyway, I think it helped. Cause, like she laughed and started breathing again. And let me tell you… that laugh. Her grin. Okay yeah we helped eachother keep our nerves. She held my hand tight as did I in return.

Oh her name is Quinn and you have got to me her. Bright, bubbly, long sweeping red hair… looks like a Disney princess. And just as easy to be with.

Okay fine I like her too. A lot. Do I sound desperate?

Like… three people I’ve just met and I wanna spend more time with them? Maybe it’s the air here. Magical.

Okay I digressed. So somewhere after that Jake breaks us out of that storm and its as brilliant blue as it was before. Like… almost never happened. Except for the engines still being dead as you and I after that party Kaitlyn and her roomies threw last semester.

Honestly? Jake is one hellova damn good pilot. Like Tom Hanks in the movie Sully good.

He, without engines, got us on the ground AND parked in a hanger, coasting through it all. No one answered at the tower though. Which was spooky and it gets weirder later on.

But he got us down in one piece, and Oh My god this island is STUNNING! Green as an emerald gem from the air, caught a glimpse of crystal rivers and waterfalls on the way in and this big ol’ smoking volcano in the middle.

Feed back please! Thanks all!

clearbluewaters  asked:

(You knew this was coming) Dick & Babs, prompt 18

Dick bit his lip nervously, beads of sweat clinging to the ends of his hair as he finally finished tying up the two muggers. 

Everything about him tonight was clumsy, on edge, and very much unnatural. Uncool. “Chalant” as opposed to nonchalant. And he hated it.

He walked back over to where Barbara stood waiting for him, praying she couldn’t see the flush that seemed to overcome his face every time he looked at her tonight. But if she had noticed, she didn’t show it. 

“You’re pretty slow tonight, Boy Wonder,” she joked playfully, throwing him a teasing grin before shooting her grappling hook off. 

And Dick’s heart nearly stopped in his chest.

They retreated, flying across the rooftops, Batgirl’s exhilarated laugh filling the air as the wind whipped through her red, flowing hair, Robin chasing after her desperately, willing himself to just say the goddamn words that had been replaying in his head since the day he had first met her.

You’re so beautiful.   

He knew that she would just laugh at him. He knew that she would brush those words off as if it were coming from a naive, hopeless, love-sick teenage boy. And well, to be fair… they were. Weren’t they?

They landed atop one of the buildings that jutted up above the Gotham streets, and Dick summoned the courage to finally speak.

“Babs, wait,” he said, his voice rushed, almost as panicked as his quickening pulse. 

Batgirl stopped at the sound of her name, and met his gaze, her eyebrow arched in amusement. 

“I know at least one person who wouldn’t be happy about you breaking the “no-real names” rule, Robin,” she said, crossing her arms and smiling at him, a flicker of curiosity streaking across the green eyes that peered at him from behind the mask. “If you get benched tomorrow, I’m not going to… hrn-?!”

Dick stalked up to Babs and planted a kiss on her lips, one hand reaching out behind her head, pulling her into him. 

He closed his eyes against the surprise that had no doubt crossed Barbara’s face; Dick didn’t think he could bear it if he saw disgust in there too. He tried not to force it, but kept his grip loose enough to let her pull away and slap him if she wanted to. 

She didn’t slap him.   

After what felt like an eternity, Barbara pushed him away from her, and they stood there in the quiet night, breathing heavily, staring at each other in a stunned silence with only the stars and gargoyles watching. 

But to them, in that very moment, it was as if even the stars and the gargoyles didn’t exist. 

“I’m sorry,” Dick finally stammered, backing away slightly to give her some space, running a hand through his hair. “I… I’ve wanted to do that for a long time and just, didn’t know how you’d react.”

Batgirl said nothing, turning away from Robin suddenly and standing on the edge of the building. 

“Next time, try asking,” she suggested, still looking out over the city. “My reaction might be a bit better.”

And just like that, she was gone. 

Dick watched her soaring from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit of the sound of sirens, a wide, joyful grin spreading across his face. 

He was completely oblivious to the caped figure that stood in the shadows behind him, shaking his head as he muttered about the frivolity of youth as he stepped out to ask Robin for a status report.  

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