Selina & Talia

new fic cause apparently i’m on an absolute roll

Word count: 1,524

Summary:“It’s a conspiracy!” Danny cries, jamming an accusatory finger close enough to Jazz’s face that she has to go cross-eyed to look at it. “You’re conspiring against me with my arch-nemesis!”

Jazz brings her hand up and pushes the finger still pointed between her eyes back down. “Oh no.” she deadpans. “You’ve foiled my evil plot. Whatever shall I do?”

She goes back to reading at her psychology textbook.

Danny lets out a strangled yelp of frustration and stomps out of the room.

asdfnrjrft just thought about Duke and Tim both thinking of each other as the family’s impulse control and then one day both of them realise that the other’s an insane adrenaline junkie just like everyone else and then they’re both like ‘you’re telling me that no one’s been holding the brain cell this entire time?!?!?’

thinking about how we could have had cassie and tim meeting as kids because of their parents being in archeology... life is so unfair

my astro prof just told us that the stars are dying and wtf??? how am i supposed to worry about the impermenence of my existence when one day the lights will all go out???

Watched Batman ninja and what an absolute fucking masterpiece would highly recommend

Crew Swap AU

Commander Lovelace is having one of those few good days on the Hephaestus when Hera tells her that something’s docked at the airlock five

The crew scrambles, something they’ve been getting better at recently.

Those with firearms training head to the armory while Victoire and Kwan and Selberg go to the airlock where Lovelace knows they’ll be doing whatever they can to figure out what’s happening. In under three minutes the entire crew of the Hephaestus is gathered outside airlock five, mostly armed and entirely ready for a fight.

Hera can’t communicate with whatever’s on the craft but she can tell that there’s only one life form on board. Lovelace’s choice is either to let what just docked into the station, or to leave it hanging onto them like a leach on their oxygen.

Throughout her time on the Hephaestus Lovelace has grown to hate unknowns. They always lead to someone dying. It means that they have to deal with whatever’s clinging to them before they’re in the middle of the next emergency. Lovelace tells Hera to open the airlock.

Instead of aliens or monsters, what comes through the airlock is a man. He looks exhausted. His cheeks are sunken in and one arm is wrapped around his waist in an attempt to hold together what he can. His other hand holds a gun, shaking.

For a moment he looks confused, like he’s expecting people other than Lovelace’s crew to be there. Then his eyes lock onto Selberg and his expression turns murderous.

“You.” he rasps.

Lovelace lets herself look away from the stranger and at Selberg for a millisecond, it’s all she needs. Selberg looks scared. He looks terrified. The man that Lovelace can barely get to listen to her is stood, staring in abject horror at a man who’s barely holding himself upright.

“No.” Selberg whispers, eyes wide. “No, you died. I watched you die.”

“Really Doc?” says the man through gritted teeth, “I thought the whole point was that I wouldn’t be able to do that any more.”

And then his eyes start to glow.

Well, Lovelace thinks, cocking her gun as Selberg drops in a dead faint, maybe it is an alien.

Who ran your childhood alignment chart edition

I almost forgot about what a legend Derek Landy is and had to make the second one.

of course he’s the kid you wanted, dick thinks, he says, he yells because he is eighteen and so full of hope for life that he forgot about the chains he put on himself that drag him back to bruce’s stupid fucking cave no matter how hard he tries to break free of them. and he’s tried to run away, he’s tried and tried and tried, from the very first fight he had with bruce when he was a burnt-out cluster of stars in the shape of a nine year old boy to two weeks ago, when he realized that there are papers that turn jason peter todd into jason peter todd-wayne. jason peter todd-wayne likes going to school and helps alfred cook and actually enjoys doing weapons inventory and reads books curled up in the big armchair next to the mahogeny desk in bruce’s chamber of an office. dick did backflips on the chair for all of ten minutes before bruce’s quiet scribbling and the walls full of books felt like they were closing in on him, and he had to tumble down the steps of the batcave and throw his body around the parallel bars just to keep his soul from ballooning out of his body with the need to move. jason made bruce smile the day his parents died in the alley his parents died in. jason is quiet enough to put bruce at ease but loud enough to fill the space and bruce loves him like a son. maybe bruce loved dick, but dick made him rub his forehead in exasperation and look over dick’s prescriptions every couple of months and slump with exhaustion after they spent a day together. dick made bruce tired, but jason made him smile, so dick bent his neck in submission and let the kid wear robin on his chest with pride. 

of course he’s the kid you wanted, jason spits out bitterly, the winds whipping past him and bruce on a rooftop like riptides carrying people to their deaths. he can pinpoint the minute his rage turned to hopelessness, because this new robin ran to the edge of a cliff and jumped off without a hint of fear, flying higher and higher until he reached the moon, until he reached the stars, until he reached the outstretched hands dick motherfucking grayson held out for him. dick held his hands out for jason too, but jason’s wings melted with the heat of dick’s stupid stupid stupid perfectness, and no matter what he did, icarus always fell. jason wasn’t an idealistic little annie with stars in his eyes; he braced himself for the burn the minute bruce took him into wayne manor, because rich white men always want things and jason spent months waiting to find out what bruce wayne wanted. the answer was companionship, the answer was someone to protect and care for, the answer was a child to love as his own, which was so hopelessly pure that jason’s skin felt bleached by it. tim’s skin didn’t have to be bleached by it. tim had skin as white as porcelain and eyes like shattered diamonds and an aristocratic little accent that jason could practically see jewels and precious metals dripping off of, his wealth and privilege locking jason in place like the midas touch. jason was a kid bruce picked up off the streets, and even though he’d spent his life knowing that he was smart and strong and clever enough to earn robin, to survive the league, to be red hood, there would always be someone better, someone worth more, someone who fit the robin mold like they were melted and poured into it. so jason snarled and screamed and broke down as loud as he could, because he thought he meant the world to bruce, thought he was his son, but tim was a much better son than jason could ever be, and jason didn’t just outgrow those pixie boots, his feet grew so big they tore them to pieces, and he’d never be able to wear them again.

of course he’s the kid you wanted, tim says to himself, on the precipice of turning his entire body into an ice-cold sculpture near unbreakable with the fire of emotion and letting the tears that had bubbled up into his throat burst out with all the fury of a supernova. tim had chip, chip, chipped away at himself until he’d become the perfect partner, the perfect robin, because that’s all he ever wanted to do. he wanted to be useful, he wanted to work for something with his own two hands and have earned his victory, he wanted someone to tell him they were proud of the work he had done. but tim had fucked it up, he’d fucked it all up, because he hadn’t been able to accept nearly everyone he loved being ripped from his greedy fingers, and all of the satisfaction he got from crowing about how he was right and how bruce was alive and they brought him back because of him turned to acid in his mouth because of the things he’d done to get there. damian was broken too, damian was shattered into so many little pieces that the shards pricked dick all over and made him bleed until damian was seeped into his skin so deep that dick didn’t have any other choice but to love him. tim was just fractured. he had bold lines running across his skin, a map of his strengths and things he overcame and survived turning into a map of his failure, and splinters running across his soul. a streak for trying to clone conner, a streak for mutilating the robin costume with his own grief, a streak for letting ra’s come as close as he did to compromising tim, a streak for not being able to convince cass to stay, a streak for getting kicked out the window and letting himself fall, letting dick believe he’d known he was there and quietly wishing that dick hadn’t gotten to him in time. damian, for all his faults, had only ever tried to claw his way up with bloodstained hands to morality and kindness and good, somehow ignoring the siren call that was the league at his back. so, with a silent and motionless tantrum as violent as someone locked inside arkham, tim screamed at the unfairness of it all, at the audacity of it all, but let himself become accustomed to the r sitting on damian’s chest.

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I just watched the Batman 

@elowenp hands over 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️ demoncat is actually my greatest weakness and this piece referencing this part (below) of their fic!!

the outfits r kinda generic but i was rlly happy how selina turned out. i will make more pieces based on their series “stay” but drops this n runs for now! this is my first time trying this layout, i didn’t rlly enjoy it but i was too deep to not not finish it 🫥 but i hope it is still not too bad!

fic is linked here, please give it a shot!! damian is rlly cute there but the demoncat dynamic hits like … rlly good.