Queer Barbara Gordon Mayhaps?????

You scream. Obviously. Then you run into the bathroom because you’re an idiot and that was the closest door to your bed.

You stop screaming. The coarse-rough voice of that horrible thing lets out a quiet “Shit.” through the wood of the door. Then heavy breathing and the drip, drip, drip of the tap maintenance never fixed is all you can hear.

Why is it here? What did you do? Some part of you had always thought that monster to be some demon. An agent of the devil that came after you for breaking your little brothers nose just because you could. Or for not calling an ambulance that time your grandma fell down the stairs. Or for tearing out Becky Pritchard’s earrings through her flesh for saying that yours looked ugly.

You may have been a slightly sadistic child.

That monster, that demon, had been the only thing that left you scared. The moment it shifted beneath your bed you would feel all the bubbling anger that flowed through your veins turn to ice. The moment it started whispering, promising you all the awful things it was going to do to you, that constant hunger to make others hurt would be drowned out by the tidal wave of fear that gripped you.

Well, old habits die hard, you think as you try to get your breathing under control. But now you’re twenty-five with six years in private security under your belt, so maybe they can be killed a little faster.

You remove the head from the toilet brush to turn it into a baton. The shape of it, the weight, is familiar to you. You’d always been good baseball. At least until you’d used the bat to take out a player's knee caps. You don’t think the coach would have minded so much if the kid had been on the opposing team.

You’ve never actually seen the monster and so find yourself hoping it has knee caps. It would be satisfying, you think, to feel the solid thunk of the strike and the sickly crack that would follow it.

Already lining up the shot in your head, you open the door.

Coming back to your apartment you prepare for a good night’s sleep. Upon laying on your bed you suddenly hear noises coming from underneath it. Carefully looking under you’re surprised to see the monster that lurked under your bed as a kid staring back at you. “Look man, I need a favor.”

UPDATE: My general ‘what the shit’ feelings are transferring to Joanna cause I mean wtf did she just stab out her baby???

Just started mr robot and what the absolute sHIT is Tyrell

Caitlin hates the inaction inherent in being an enforcer. She hates the red tape, the way her every move feels sluggish and predictable and entirely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. The feelings are made all the worse by the way she watches Jayce, a man she’s know near her whole life, turn Piltover upside down with only his mind.

The whole thing leads to her hanging around Zaun perhaps a little too much.

Everytime she goes she tries to justify herself by saying it’s for work. Tells herself that she’s only hanging around the dodgiest areas she can find to make herself a better and more knowledgeable enforcer.

It’s at least partly true. She’s been beginning to put together a picture of the lanes, artwork drenched in greens and purples with the name Silco at its centre.

She uses that knowledge to bury the fact that she’s been going to Zaun just because at least when you have to spend every other moment looking over your shoulder you can’t be as utterly bored as Caitlin is in Piltover.

On one of her trips she finds a hideout. It seems abandoned but neon paint still makes the walls glow odd colours and there are still power lines connected to the place. She follows one of the cables and finds it disconnected from whatever machine it used to be used to run. Purely out of curiosity she picks up the cable and screws it back into the connector.

Targets painted the same neon as the designs on the walls spring to life and start moving around.

Oh.

Oh Caitlin likes this.

A smile playing at her lips, she vaults over the counter to take a stance a reasonable distance from the targets before cocking her gun. She readies herself, taking a breath before she begins.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Her every shot hits exactly where it’s meant to. Once she runs out of ammo Caitlin lets herself bask in the satisfaction for a moment and allows the smile to fully take hold of her face.

“Not bad. For a topsider I guess.”

Caitlin whips around, aiming her gun before processing the fact that it’s out of ammo. She adjusts her grip slightly so that even if she can’t shoot it she can still swing it into someone’s face with enough force to knock them out. From the shadows slides a girl. Younger than Caitlin, probably still a child. Blue hair in plaits that drag along the floor as she bends her head to look at Caitlin enquiringly.

“Thank you,” Caitlin says, her tone not hiding the fact that she doesn’t particularly want to be thanking this random girl who’s been spying on her.

The girl seems to catch it.

“You don’t sound very thankful” she huffs.

“I’m not.”

“Then why say it?”

“So you go away faster.”

The girl pauses. Looks at Caitlin a little like she thinks Caitlin is stupid and she bristles with irritation. “That didn’t work very well for you, did it?”

“I suppose not.” Caitlin manages through gritted teeth.

The girl jerks slightly, as if some revalation has just come to her. It makes her look at Caitlin with significantly more interest.

“You should try and shoot me.”

What the fuck?

“No one’s ever shot me before, and some people have tried really hard, but I bet that you could take a decent stab at it.”

“I-“, Caitlin is sure the confusion must be showing on her face but she’s too caught off guard to bother hiding it. “No?”

The girl looks like a kicked puppy. “Please?”

“No,” Caitlin repeats, more firmly.

“Darn, guess I’ll have to find some way to persuade you.”

As soon as the girl finishes speaking she disappears back into the shadows as quickly as she emerged.

Caitlin huffs. She isn’t looking forwards to being persuaded.

#i said i’m a bisexual having a panic attack

selina kyle digatti and kate kane in bombshells united #13

Not me starting my third original story of this summer

New fic oop-

If you like the young justice one shots I have on here it’s just more of them but compiled better. Also I’m trying to keep them all in the same continuity so you might get some followups to previous ones.

I desperately crave a friendship like the teen titans have in Gabriel Picolo’s art

Enemies-to-lovers, but instead of featuring a villain redemption arc, the heroic one is getting progressively more corrupt, unhinged and fucked up, and the one who was originally the clear-cut villain out of the two is just like "well mark me down as scared and horny"

Oscar Pine is a good kid.

He has the best grades in his class, he helps out on the farm, he even listens to all of his aunt’s lectures about distant lands and monster slayers (although the last one isn’t hard). Oscar Pine is a good kid who wants to do great things in the future and, despite the fact that he comes from a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, he has just enough drive and intelligence and eagerness that he might even accomplish them.

Oscar Pine is a good kid with his whole life ahead of him. So when a voice in his head asks to merge their souls together, Oscar’s answer is a fairly emphatic ‘No’.

“Oh,” say Ospin and Osma and a thousand other lives. “Well that’s new.”

The gods did give humanity choice after all, and they’re hardly going to take it away now.

The rawest line to ever be conceived, honestly.