ROACH MY BELOVED!!🪳🧎‍♀️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

It’s the small things I like seeing in this fandom ☺️

good morning

I got myself Aseprite and figured out how to make a sprite sheet! Super cool, gotta use it more~

Also went back to my roots and drew Danny after binging loads of DP/Batman fanfics which had me feeling nostalgic!

Y'all ever heard Shivers by Ed Sheeran? Yeah, it came on my spotify shuffle and something clicked in my brain.

─•────

Being around Damian was exhilarating.

Even as a kid, Jon felt this and acknowledged it despite Damian's bossiness, arrogance, and know-it-all attitude. All of those traits that Jon found annoying also grew into a feeling of excitement.

There is something about Damian's assertiveness, his proud and somewhat arrogant attitude. Blunt and direct, but fiercely loyal. Both independent and rebellious, and so deeply compassionate that it sent shivers through Jon whenever he thought about it.

That's not to say that Damian's recklessness didn't worry him at the same time. Because while Damian could be calculated and thorough, he wasn't a stranger to letting his emotions take over. As exciting as it was to be around Damian, Jon was often worried.

One bad slip, the snap of a grappling hook, a hit to the head that's a little too hard—all of that was enough to take him away from Jon permanently. So Jon always kept an ear out and was there the second he felt Damian's life could be in danger. Even so, the adrenaline that came with being in Damian's life was addicting.

Jon was far different from his father. While his dad represented peace and tranquility, Jon himself could be chaotic and unpredictable, and when paired with Damian, it was never seen as a bad thing. If anything, Damian himself could be chaotic and unpredictable, and that fascinated Jon over the years; seeing Damian embrace those traits that were often viewed as negative. He'd never met anyone like Damian before—someone so opposite from his wholesome and peaceful upbringing on a Kansas farm.

Damian was new and exciting.

The adrenaline rush that came with fighting next to him was truly intoxicating. The grin of victory that would spread across his face as if he knew they were going to win anyway.

The smirk he started to wear whenever Jon came to his rescue, as if he were a trained lap dog.

"You seriously need to stop pulling dangerous stuff like that! You do realize you're still human and could die, right!?"

"But you wouldn't let that happen, now would you?"

That all-knowing smirk on Damian's face was enough to prove his point. Because Jon be damned if he wasn't going to drop everything to save the one he loved.

Oh, and how he really did love him.

He never thought he could love this hard and this passionately. Someone who made his soul feel like it was on fire. He wanted nothing more than to be the guy who got to kiss Damian, make him smile, and see sides of him no one else got to.

So when leftover adrenaline led to heated make-outs in alleyways, being wrapped up between Damian's legs and arms never felt like enough.

Sneaking out in the middle of the night was nothing new to them; they'd been doing it since they were kids. But to simply sneak out because Damian thought it'd be fun to visit the San Diego Zoo at night, to have Jon fly them halfway across the world to patrol because, quote unquote, they needed a change of scenery, getting hot and heavy in the Batmobile because:

"You've kissed me just about everywhere. My dad's car should be no different,"

And it was just the way that Damian said some things that could drive Jon absolutely insane. He knew he should say no; they could get caught, reprimanded like they were kids again despite almost being in their 20s. But how could Jon say no when Damian said things with such an alluring tone?

"If we get caught," Jon walked towards Damian only to trap him between himself and the car, inching closer just so his lips could brush against the others, arms wrapped around his neck to pull him even closer, "just know my death is gonna be on your hands..." And Damian chuckled against a kiss that was only going to deepen because it was true; if his dad were to catch them, Jon's death would be on his hands.

And being able to stay up all day and all night with just Damian alone?

God, Jon loved nothing more.

Damian could tear him apart, put him back together, and take his heart as if he owned it.

And he did.

Damian owned everything that was Jon. And in return,

Jon owned him.

👀?

UH OH! Pokémon TV is shutting down! It would be a shame if some guy on Tumblr shared a link to every season of AniPoke from Indigo Leauge to the last batch of episodes with Ash in it along with some movies, that would be a shame!

Edit: For some reason Netflix is removing the Journeys series…Yknow, *a series that’s an exclusive to its platform in the US*

I don’t wanna act holy-er than thou but uh reblog this even harder than before cause screw Netflix

Duke is unapologetic for everything that comes out of his mouth. In fact, give him a mic, he'll say it louder.

Some way too old for that guy, trying to flirt with Cass: You know, you seem so mature for your age…

Duke, popping out of nowhere: And you're really fucking dumb for yours, man, fix this puddle of desperation on your head first and only then think about trying to fit into society. If even your hair doesn't want to be with you, what are you counting on?

Cass, who really didn't want to ruin her cute dress with blood: 👍🏻

A really annoying paparazzi: Hey, boy, how does it feel to become rich after, well, whatever you were before? Have your, erm, extracurricular activities changed? What's your favourite thing to do now?

Duke, with the straightest face known to mankind: No, it's still your mom. My favourite extracurricular activity, planning to do her more actually, thanks for the question.

Bruce, trying to parent a whole ass teen: So…

Duke: I really shouldn't have told this terrible, rude, insufferable piece of person to go eat shit. I genuinely regret it. I should have told her to go eat shit and die choking, such a missed opportunity, damn, I'm still upset.

Bruce: ...

Bruce, to himself: Why am I even trying?

There are a bunch of compilations on YouTube and Tiktok “Duke Thomas-Wayne has no PR training whatsoever”. Duke personally likes every single one of them.

"Stop hogging the ciggy"-

Scene from "earthmover" commissioned by the author of the fic <3

Concept art by Ryan Church, of the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, in the cockpit of the Razor Crest as it is half filled with water from the ocean world of Trask. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 3, The Heiress. Calendar by DateWorks.

What if....

Grogu thought about all the things that he could do using the Force and then he thought about all the things he couldn’t do. He really wished that he could change some of those things. Like right now. This very moment. That should be a thing, right? After all, if you were climbing to higher ground to avoid being given a sea water bath, wouldn’t you wish that there was something you could do about it?

Of course, that’s not how any of it worked. You actually had to practice using the Force. You generally needed a Jedi Master or an experienced Jedi Knight, or even a really knowledgeable padawan to help you even figure out what you should do. You couldn’t just make things up as you went along. Which was a pity. 

Grogu didn’t the blame the Mandalorian. He didn’t blame the Frog Lady either. She needed to get her eggs to Trask, or her line would end. He didn’t want that to happen. It didn’t sound good. It didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound fair. 

Nope. He blamed Emperor Palpatine. If that guy had never been in power, well, the Jedi Temple on Coruscant would still be a Jedi Temple. Grogu would probably be someone’s padawan and Din Djarin would be doing whatever Mandalorians were meant to be doing. Probably bringing guys like Moff Gideon in cold. And he wouldn’t even be called Moff Gideon. Nope. He’d just be Gideon.

Imagine that. Gideon just being this guy who worked with data systems and sees his chance to steal a lot of credits from someone. Probably an orphanage given his general cruelty. The Old Republic figures it out immediately. Gideon is arrested and while he’s out on bail (whatever that is) he skips town. Then Din Djarin picks up a bounty fob for him and the guy is brought in cold. 

This time, no one gives Gideon a chance to run away and he’s locked up, under surveillance, wearing a uniform, the whole bantha. Gideon goes to trial, he’s found guilty because of course he is, he did it, and he’s taken to a place where he can just sit around and contemplate what he did and why it was wrong. 

Huh… so why would anyone steal from an orphanage? It’s not like they had a lot of credits laying around. Was it just because they didn’t know they needed to protect themselves from bad actors or because they didn’t have the funds to do it? Was it just a theft of convenience or was that the orphanage that Gideon had grown up in and this was his way of getting revenge on the people who didn’t love him? 

Uff! Grogu really needed to get a grip. Just because Gideon didn’t have a great childhood, that didn’t mean it was okay for him to be mean to other people. Grogu hadn’t had a perfect childhood by any stretch of the imagination. He was still a happy person. He still helped people when he could. He didn’t have to be mean to anyone. Except stormtroopers. 

Uff. Stormtroopers. Now there was another whole big group of people who wouldn’t have existed if Chancellor Palpatine hadn’t decided that he wanted to be something like Supreme Ruler of Everything He Could See and Everything He’d Been Told About. Those people, mostly humans, would have stayed on their home planets. They would have done the work they had always done. Grogu was pretty certain that none of that work included hitting small green Jedi younglings or trying to hurt their adopted dad, or chasing them all over the known galaxy. 

Nope. Those people would have built roads, protected folks from the local syndicates, and carried on the way the good people did on Chandrila or Alderaan. It’s not that Grogu thought that all of those people were good and law abiding. A bunch of them were probably like Moff Gideon. Creeps with a grudge against civil society. But the Jedi and the Mandalorians would help sort that out. As long as they stopped fighting with each other.

Uff. That was another thing that Grogu wished he could change, but he couldn’t entirely lay that on the former senator of Naboo. Mandalorians and Jedi had been fighting for millennia according to the history lessons he’d tried to stay awake through. It was usually over something like, the Mand’alor wanted to add a new planet to the ever expanding Mandalorian protectorate and the Jedi, often at the request of the planet’s leaders, worked to stop them. 

It drained both groups of precious time and resources and maybe that’s what the Sith affiliated had wanted the whole time. To weaken the two groups that could actually stop them. The groups that had actually stopped them, time after time. Huh. So maybe it was all the Sith’s fault? No Sith, no Emperor Palpatine, no Moff Gideon, no Din Djarin rescuing Grogu from the Nikto gang, because he was still on Coruscant. 

Of course, Din Djarin wouldn’t have been there anyway, because he would still be on Aq Vetina because there wouldn't have been a Separatist  attack and the Mandalorians would never had to rescue him. Hmm. Which meant that he wouldn’t have been the bounty hunter to collect Gideon. Someone else would have done that. But who? Not Boba Fett. He might not even exist. No Sith, no Clone Army because no Separatists.  

What about Fennec? Or Peli? Would Kuiil have ever been on Arvala-7?! 

Dank Farrik! 

Grogu knew you had to be careful about what you wished for. Sometimes you lost things you didn’t even know you needed. 

the thing abt duke thomas is that he is a genius truly gifted kid who had a promising albeit average future ahead of him until tragedy struck and took his parents from him. then all the energy he has diverts and he blocks everything else out and dedicates himself to finding them and also being a huge problem for anyone who'd try to obscure that.

like #1 most underrated thing abt his character is that he is, by definition, a "retired crash out". after age 14 he had no friends, shit grades, was getting into fights so often he was being kicked out of schools AND foster homes. it truly was self made vigilatism and the power of friendship that saved him from tunnel-visioning into an early grave.

ALL THIS TO SAY my favorite thing abt duke thomas pre batman and the signal (hell even during the comic) is how much of an unapologetic asshole he is to everyone indiscriminately in a bad way. He was kind but lil bro was NOT nice. he was selfish and a dickhead even to ppl who cared and were really trying to help him. I really like to think that him getting past that wasn't dc neutering him but the active choice to get better after he finally found a solid support system. that being said, he most definitely code switches and has to CONSISTENTLY hold back from poppin bitches in they mouthes bcs hes past that! he's in his healing arc! <as he'd say.

Fic Search!!

Looking for any well written JayRoy fics, especially along the lines of the Batfam realizing that JayRoy is a thing. (Bonus points if Dick takes psychic damage from it) . They can be funny or serious, just so long as there's at least a hopeful ending. Thanks!

I've already read (and enjoyed) :

Oh by AlexaAffect

Dick Grayson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Two To Three Weeks (But Who's Counting) by dietpudding

another try not to cry christmas by fadinglight123

P.S. To anybody saving this for their own recs, these are also some favorite JayRoy fics, they just don't have the theme of the Batfam finding out. Enjoy!

raised in the tall grass by SafelyCapricious

4 am at Denny's by bittercape (JayRoy + Slade!)

And everyone thinks I dodged a bullet, but I think I shot the gun by Daisyapples

the halfway home for washed-up sidekicks by moth_tille (JayRoy + Kyle!)

Dang, so much in depth detail, names, ‘nd stuff. I love it 🙂

Ghaoptober #1

Prompt: Drive

Words: 2200~

TW: Mentions of Torture. (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

This one got very out of hand, I couldn't think of anything to do with cars, so I took it in a different direction.

Hope you Enjoy!

Ghost steps back, wiping his hand off on his thigh, uncaring of the sticky smears it leaves behind. Staring, he lets the knuckles of his -marginally cleaner- hand press against his lips through his balaclava as he debates with himself. The action was a remnant of Simon Riley's old habit of chewing on his fingers. The interrogation was stalling, it'd been going on for too long, their guest had lost the haze of shock and fear, he was starting to acclimatize to The Ghost. It was taking more to pull less from him, and he still hadn’t fessed up to where his homebase is. 

Thaddaeus Gedaliah, the man in charge of getting a lot of very bad people what they needed, where they needed it. He’d been a lucky grab off a facility raid, they’d had no information on Gedaliah being anywhere near that side of the globe. The 141 found it highly suspicious, as they were well stuck into to the habit of looking gift horses in the mouth.

Ghost thought back, trying to recall the base’s practice schedules, then walked out of the room to consult with Price. 

“Router Woods is empty right now?” He stood alongside the Captain, staring in at Gedaliah as the man dropped his head back, letting it hang off his shoulders as he slumped into the chair he was bound to. He was closer to breaking than Ghost had estimated. 

Good. 

Now the trick was making sure he broke in a helpful direction and didn’t just lose his mind. 

“Should be.” Price affirmed after a moment of thought and a quick check on his phone, “Need it?”

“Affirm, Johnny’s exercising?”

“He usually starts around now. But you already knew that.” Price side-eyed him.

Ghost nodded as he turned away and headed for the exit. He had already known, but it was only polite to give the Captain an idea of what he was planning. Cresting the stairs and pushing through the doors, Ghost held up a hand to ward off the glare of the sun and glanced around for anyone he could send running for Johnny.

The interrogation block was part of the general detainment building, a good two-dozen metres back from the rear of the main-building, situated smack dab in the centre of the base. The actual interrogation block was on the bottom floor, deep underground to take advantage of the natural soundproofing. 

“Corporal Winslow!” Ghost called the woman over, standing through the obligatory salute and ‘Sir!’, “Where are you headed?”

The Corporal seemed confused -Ghost couldn’t blame her, he wasn’t one for small talk or asking after others-, but answered promptly. “I’ve just begun my free hours, Sir. I’m-”

“Good,” Ghost cut in, “Tell Sergeant Mactavish to R.V with Captain Price and I at the south entrance of Router Woods A.S.A.P. You’ll find him in the delta sector of the gym.” 

The Corporal gave a crisp, ‘Yes, Sir!’ with another salute and obediently trotted off in the direction of the gymnasium centre. 

Giving a satisfied nod, Ghost headed back down into the interrogation block. Corporal Winslow was shaping up well with her recent promotion, there’s not many that would have handled a blood stained ghost-story barking orders at them with her perfunctory calm. 

“Planning to wash him out?” Captain Price asked, meeting him at the base of the stairs.

“With your permission of course, Sir.” Ghost let a grin stretch his mouth, but bowed his head to the Captain with sincere deference. If Price disagreed, Ghost would listen.

“Nah, you know that I trust you with this. If this is what you think will work, this is what we’ll do.” Price held open the door to Ghost's working room for him.

Stepping up to Gedaliah, Ghost let his excitement shine through his eyes. Reveling in the nervous swallow that bobbed in the other man’s throat. This wasn’t what Gedaliah had come to expect. The door had only opened long enough to permit Ghost’s entry for the past three days, Gedaliah hadn’t seen another human in at least seven before that. Thaddeus didn’t seem excited about this sudden change in routine.

Smart man.

Any wounds still freely bleeding were bluntly staunched, a gag stuffed into his mouth, hands tied behind his back, and his ankles secured to his hands. Ghost tested the give of the serviceable hog-tie, then hauled him up over his shoulder. Easily ignoring all squirming as he carried him out of the room, giving Price a thankful nod. 

Router Woods was a barbed and fenced-in copse of woods that made up a not insignificant part of the base’s northern footprint. It was occasionally utilised for training programs or punishments. 

After a quiet walk around the back of the base, so as to not prematurely scar any rooks and FNGs, Price and Ghost approached the south entrance. Router Woods' south entrance, matching all of its other entrances, was two trees with orange flags tied round their trunks with a rotting shack nearby that holds some surplus supplies, a log-book, and -if you’re very very lucky- a pen. 

Ghost dropped his luggage, rolling out his shoulders as Price popped into the booth to check the log-book.

“All clear. Last person logged as leaving 15:34 yesterday with no new entries.” Price read off, stretching the book's tether to get it into the light coming in through the shack’s open door.

“Good-”

“L.T! Price!” Came a cheery shout, the voice lilting with an unmistakable Scottish brogue.

“Johnny,” Ghost greeted, reeling in the Scot by the back of his neck to rub his balaclava-covered cheek over the top of his warhawk. Grinning at the happy squirming Johnny struggled to contain as he tried to stay firmly within range of the affectionate marking. 

“Hi, Si,” The Scot murmured after Ghost lifted his head, staring up at him with warm eyes that roiled with possessive greedy insatiable want. 

“Hi, Johnny,” Ghost murmured in return, rocking him gently by the firm grip he'd kept on his neck.

“That's enough of that, you muppets,” Price cut in, tossing the log-book back into the shack and securing the door with the Military Grade slide-latch that had been crookedly screwed into the frame. 

“Aye, right,” Johnny shook himself off after Ghost reluctantly released him, “Wha’d ye need me for then?” 

“Need you to wash out a target, Soap” Price informed him as Ghost didn’t seem inclined. Distracted, as the Lieutenant was, with watching his Sergeant. 

“Oh, ye always give meh the nicest ‘hings, L.T,” Soap all but purred, staring into those heated brown eyes, a wicked curl taking up the edges of his lips. 

“You’re not too tired, Johnny?” Ghost questioned.

“Nay, L.T. Hadnae even started my workout when Winslow grabbed meh.” Soap reassured, reining in the instincts urging him to wiggle about and rub happily up against his superiors.

Gedaliah chose that moment to take umbrage with being ignored and began flailing about like a landed fish, drawing Johnny’s gaze. The Sergeant's pupils focusing in on the roped man with a predatory gleam. 

“Someone’s eager,” Price’s face was serious, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed him, pleased to see his men happy, “I’ll just get our friend ready while you bring Soap up to speed, shall I,”

Ghost planted a hand on Johnny’s chest and walked him back a few steps, clocking the way his eyes never lost their lock on Gedaliah. “Soap,” He drew Johnny's focus to him, grabbing him by the chin when his eyes kept darting to where Price had given up unraveling Ghost’s knots and was cutting Gedaliah free.

“MacTavish.” he shook the Scot by the jaw, letting his fingers press firmly into Johnny’s cheeks, feeling the shapes of his teeth under his fingertips. Staring into his Sergeant's eyes to make sure he had his full attention, he felt Johnny nod into his grip. Letting Ghost know that he had him now. 

“Limbs only, No body-shots, No touching the head. He's mine, I’m not done with him.” Ghost kept his words calm and clear, making sure Johnny was registering what he was saying, “Copy?”

“Aye, Ghost.” Soap nodded, taking in deep huffing breaths, “Not mine.”

Ghost smiled at the basso notes creeping into Johnny’s voice, releasing his face and giving him a rough pat on the head, “Good boy.”

A scuffle snapped Johnny’s attention back to where Price was restraining Gedaliah, the man had tried to break Price’s grip, but the Captain still had him well in hand. 

“Ready? Ghost, you have a set of comms?” Price questioned, and at the successive yesses released his hold on Gedaliah, shooing the man into the woods when he turned a hesitant look on them, “Well go on then, you wanted to run didn't you?” Price raised a mocking eyebrow. Nodding with satisfaction when Gedaliah promptly turned tail and skedaddled into the woods. 

“You gonna run him or makin’ it quick?” Price propped his hands against his hips and turned back to Ghost, keeping an absent eye on Soap stripping down to his skivvies beside the Lieutenant.

 “Run him,” Ghost replied, his full attention on the now sky-clad Scot beside him. Without looking away, Ghost pulled a small bell out of a pocket, hooked it onto himself and tugged free the rag that stopped its ringing, “Need him scared,” 

Soap’s breathing slowed and rasped. A rumbling echoing up from deep in his chest as he stared into the trees. Tremble and shakes taking over his muscles. His skin jumping like a horse twitching off flies. 

“You got that Johnny?”

“Aye,” The word crackled from Johnny’s throat and the first grotesque snap rent the air. Soap fell into a crouch as his balance became compromised. His form warping, twisting, reforming into something broader, taller, furrier. 

The nauseating noises slowed to a stop and Soap walked his front limbs forward, letting his claws dig into the dirt as he dropped his hips close to the ground, giving a great whining yawn as he stretched his back out in a passing imitation of snake-pose. 

“Soap,” the amalgamation of wolf and man whipped its head around at Ghost’s call, Johnny’s blue eyes watching him from above that sharp-fanged muzzle. Ghost swung a flat palmed hand out to indicate the woods and barked, “Fass!” 

The werewolf wasted no time, launching forwards into the trees, sniffing briefly at the dirt to check which direction his prey had run, then picking up speed. Ears swiveling, focused on finding any sign of his quarry, Soap absently registered the quiet chiming that meant Ghost was following behind. A splash of blood on the leaf litter lit up his senses and sent him flying after the source. Johnny’s brown-furred tail vanishing amongst the foliage, followed by a crash and screams that Ghost easily recognized as Gedaliah’s. He picked up his pace to an easy jog, coming upon the scene of Gedaliah with his arm stuck tight in the trap of Soap’s jaws, the werewolf growling like a Harley, standing dominantly over the prone man, giving into his instincts to snarl and shake his prey every so often. Drawing pained wails from Gedaliah.

“Good, Soap,” Ghost calls, amused by the immediate tail-wag the praise gifts him, “Soap, Aus!”

Well-trained as any military man, Soap immediately releases the arm and back off a few steps, slavering jaws shaking with the need to regrab his prey. 

“You didn’t even get ten metres,” Ghost tsks down at Gedaliah.

The strangely amiable voice jolts Gedaliah out of the paralyzing staredown he’d been trapped in with Soap and he scrambles to turn over onto his belly and stumble to his feet. Strange, Ghost hadn’t got around to working on Gedaliah’s legs yet. 

Watching Gedaliah catch his balance against a trunk, Ghost offers some advice, “If I were you, I wouldn’t…” He trails off as Gedaliah takes off into the trees, leaving a trail of heinous cursing like bread-crumbs, “...run.” Ghost continues, glancing down to where Johnny is dancing on his paws, straining at the invisible leash of Ghost’s command, “It only triggers his prey-drive.” 

He watches Gedaliah bull his way farther into the forest, pleased to see that the man’s legs do seem to be working fine, it must have just been fear weakening his knees. Soap’s whining pitches up, the occasional yelp and quiet yowl creeping in as his new toy gets further and further away, but the werewolf doesn’t give voice to anything Ghost could reasonably call a bark.

What a good boy.

“Fass.” The syllable had barely crossed Ghost’s teeth before Johnny was racing away. Kicking up dirt and baying like a maniac. 

Ghost gives a wry shake of his head. He cannot believe he actually fell for that idiot. With a sigh that held more affection than exasperation, he started jogging after them. Maybe two more take-downs and Gedaliah should be more willing to talk. 

Ahead of him, Johnny tries to make a quick turn, doesn’t account for his momentum and skids sideways into a tree with a canopy shaking thud. The oversized mutt shakes himself, sniffs around, then takes off again. Tail wagging with uncontained joy the whole time.

Maybe three more take-downs.

Thank You For Reading!

So I chose to interpret drive as 'Prey Drive', and for that I needed it to be werewolf!soap and handler!ghost, nothing else fit. Also as you might have guessed, in this au, the 141 chose a homebase that has a little forest so wolfy Soap can run around in it.

I can't promise that all of my Ghoaptober responses will be this long, they most likely will not, but I'll try my best to make them nice to read regardless!

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