toasty fresh

NNnnnnngghhhh

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 05:45:56 GMT

Ugh guys I am not feeling too hot about comics/writing/drawing/all the shit I do on here

In fact, I am feeling so not hot I'm sort of leaning to the side and making a face, like so:

Hngr maybe I should draw more ridiculous stuff and put it up

Or maybe I should just DELETE EVERYTHING

WHAT A GOOD PLAN

(Listen feel free to ignore me, this post is ridiculous and I'd ignore it if I were you)

Another Kink Meme fic

Thu, 03 Sep 2009 00:14:34 GMT

Blah blah blah, marvel_kink , fics, etc.

Ugh in other news I hate the set up of my journal and want a new theme.

Title: Break it Up
Fandom: Marvel
Characters/Pairings: Billy Kaplan (Wiccan), Eli Bradley (Patriot), Nate Richards (Iron Lad); Nate/Eli
Prompt: Patriot/Iron Lad, angry sex. Bonus points if they get caught by a teammate.
Word Count: 440
Rating: PG13
Summary: Billy's never coming early to practice again.
Author's Notes: I am actually not much of a Nate/Eli fan (Eli/Kate is more my speed), but oh lawd I just could not resist.

Nate and Eli are fighting again.

Billy can hear them arguing, and he’s standing outside the Avengers Mansion. There’s a crash, and Billy winces. Okay, scratch the ‘arguing’—it sounds like they’re having an all-out brawl in there. It’s a good thing the mansion is already in bad shape, because from the sound of it, neither Iron Lad nor Patriot are holding back for the sake of the furniture.

This, Billy thinks, is what he gets for thinking coming to practice early is a good idea. It’s not. It’s really not.

There’s another crash, a string of curses from Eli, and then a really bad-sounding bump, and Billy figures, reluctantly, that he should probably go in and break it up. He sighs. He doesn’t want to do it, but it’ll be hard to take on Kang the Conqueror if Eli and Nate kill each other.

He opens the door of the Mansion and follows the noise. It’s mostly just cursing and yelling now—no more crashes, thankfully. They’re fighting, he realizes, in the kitchen, and he can hear thumping, but it’s . . . weird. He can’t really describe it, but something’s off. The closer he gets to the kitchen door, the less Nate and Eli sound like they’re actually fighting.

It isn’t until Billy’s hand is on the doorknob and he hears Eli moan, “Fuck, Nate, harder, you pussy—” that he realizes just what Eli and Nate are actually doing, but by then it’s too late.

The door is already open.

Eli is on his back on the kitchen table, Nate is leaning over him, and they are both frozen and looking at Billy like they wouldn’t mind evaporating at that very moment. Billy’s pretty sure he’s got the exact same expression on his face.

For a moment the only sound in the room is the kitchen table creaking.

“Um,” Billy says finally, loudly, not looking at either Eli or Nate, because his mind is not going there, “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go train. Outside. And wait for Teddy. Um.”

Nate clears his throat. “We’ll—we’ll be right out,” he says, and Billy has to give him credit for being so coherent with his dick up Eli’s ass— and oh God why did he think that he didn’t want to think that oh man he really did not want to think about that at all. He makes a mental note to learn how to erase memories ASAP. “Just gotta—um.”

“Awesome,” says Billy, and closes the door.

Right now, he thinks as he walks away and the thumping starts up again, would be a really good time to know how to teleport.

On the Benefits of Time Travel

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 19:20:21 GMT

Another kink meme repost-- from the DC one this time.

Title: On the Benefits of Time Travel
Fandom: DC
Characters/Pairings: Dick Grayson, Kon-el, Tim Drake; Dick/Kon
Prompt: Kon/Dick. Cheesy pick-up lines, mutual ogling, and flying sex. Bonus if Tim gets a headache.
Word Count: 744
Rating: R to NC-17ish
Summary: In which Dick travels back in time, and Kon is very, very thankful.
Author's Notes: I changed the ending of this quite a bit from the original post. It's a little better now.

What Kon should be doing is taking Dick to Metropolis. Not present-day, Nightwing Dick—nineteen-year-old Dick from the past, who time-traveled accidentally into present-Gotham.

Don’t ask. Kon’s not really sure how a person accidentally time-travels, either.

The point is, Tim told him to take young Dick to Metropolis so Superman can call Booster Gold and do extra tests to make sure Dick’s actually from the past, and not Earth-7 million or whatever, while he and Batman find Nightwing, but Kon’s . . . not exactly doing that. What he’s doing is giving young Dick a blowjob.

In the air.

Over a lake.

It’s a really weird angle, because he’s sort of holding Dick up while Dick has him in a sort-of-headlock, and Dick’s dick is fucking huge and it’s kind of hard to breathe and he’s not that good at deepthroating, but all in all, Kon’s pretty much enjoying himself. The way Dick is moaning, all deep and warm and reverberating through Kon’s body, is really nice, as is the ass that Kon’s currently grabbing. He can’t even remember how long he’s wanted to do that (probably since the very first time he saw Nightwing from the back, actually), and he thanks God for random time-traveling as Dick thrusts messily into his mouth.

Kon’s pretty sure Dick is close, and he’s wondering whether or not he should swallow—does that whole being a slut thing apply to guys as well as girls?—when Dick grunts and suddenly pulls his cock out of Kon’s mouth, bracing his hands on Kon’s shoulders and levering himself up with sheer upper body strength alone. Feeling the that grip and watching those muscles flex is actually pretty sexy, and Kon’s erection certainly notices, but the rest of Kon is just confused.

“What—what’s wrong?” he manages to gasp out. Dick’s still hard, really hard, and when he doesn’t answer (mostly because he’s breathing too heavily) Kon tries to move forward and mouth at the head of his erection, but Dick evades him, shimmying down Kon’s body until they’re face-to-face. It’s the same face that Kon’s used to seeing on Nightwing, handsome and grinning and cocky, except—well, vulnerable, somehow—younger and maybe just a bit more open, in a way that makes Kon want to just kind of study Robin’s face and pick out every single difference. He doesn’t really have a chance to, though, because suddenly one of those perfect thighs is shoved between his legs, and somehow, despite being the one keeping them in the air, Kon’s riding it like a bitch, keening and moaning and clutching at Dick’s shoulders, which are ridiculously slippery in that dumb cape.

“Sorry, Superboy,” Dick grits out, grinning brilliantly and rutting against Kon, “but you were looking a little lonely down there.”

Kon would say something pithy back if he could trust himself to do anything but groan.

--

Kon arrives back in Gotham sooner than Tim had expected—much sooner. He meets Kon on a convenient rooftop.

“Forgetting something?” Tim asks, crossing his arms and taking in Kon’s rumpled shirt. ”Does ‘Boy Wonder’ ring any bells?”

“He left, man,” Kon says, smugly. “I’m carrying him over some lake and—poof! He’s gone. Went back to his own time, I assume.”

“You assume—?” Tim begins, because Kon would just figure Dick was fine and forget about it, but he’s cut off when someone lands on the rooftop behind him. It’s Nightwing, and he’s looking past Tim to Kon, and if Tim didn’t know better (and if Kon wasn’t grinning so much), he’d almost think Kon was blushing a little.

“You assumed right,” says Dick, smirking at Kon. “Got home safe and sound, not a moment after I left.”

“No worse for the wear?” asks Kon, and he’s looking really obviously not at Dick’s face. “Nothing got, uh, lost along the way?”

“Well, my shorts did get ruined,” Dick says with an entirely straight face, and now Tim’s sure Kon is blushing, “although I’m not really sure how that happened.”

“Time travel,” Kon says, sagely. “Who really knows what goes on in the space-time continuum?”

It’s about then that Tim feels the headache coming on. He’s not sure what Kon and Dick did, but the definitely did something, and Tim should really find out what it is, so he can—

“I gotta say, Grayson, you grew up well.”

—On second thought, Tim’s not really sure he wants to know.

JUST CELEBRATING MY NEW MARKER PAPER

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 02:56:53 GMT

Here is a masterpiece I drew on my new marker paper, in anticipation of more (less crappy) things drawn with markers

WHEEE INDEED.

Kink Meme-- I was so embarrassed when I first posted this, lol

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 02:42:09 GMT

Oh man I have been having so much fun at the Marvel and DC kink memes (and the Marvel Gen one) going on right now, and I figured I ought to start cross-posting the ones I did to my journal~ (with heavy editing in some places).

Forgive the title, it knows not how lame it is.

Title: With Great Power . . .
Fandom: Marvel
Characters/Pairings: Billy Kaplan (Wiccan), Teddy Altman (Hulking); Teddy/Billy
Prompt: Billy/Hulkling – well-hung Teddy topping in Hulkling form.
Word Count: 556
Rating: R to NC-17ish, for dicks and sexytimes and gay.
Summary: After a fight, Billy's got a request.
Author's Notes: I realize that Teddy doesn't actually "Hulk out," but I don't know how else to put it . . . also lol there is a ridiculous typo in the original post which I only just noticed.

Immediately after the fight, Billy tugged Teddy aside.

“What’s up?” Teddy asked as Billy dragged him away from the rest of the Young Avengers, too busy tying the bad guys up for the police to notice Wiccan and Hulkling’s sudden departure. “Did something happen, Bill? Are you okay?”

Billy responded by shoving Teddy into an alley near the crime scene. He looked around furtively for a moment, grabbed Teddy’s wrist, and started to cast a spell.

“IwantustobeinvisibleIwantustobeinvisibleIwant—”

Suddenly Teddy could no longer see Billy standing in front of him, although he could feel Billy’s hand on his wrist and could hear Billy cursing under his breath. In fact, he noticed belatedly, he couldn’t see himself, either, which was kind of really weird—

“IwantustobeabletoseeeachotherIwantustobeabletoseeeachotherIwantusto—”

Billy popped back into Teddy’s vision, along with Teddy’s arms and legs. Before Teddy could ask what the hell that had been—before, even, he had really processed it—Billy grabbed him around the neck and kissed him.

Well, Teddy thought, feeling a little dazed and like he had missed something important as Billy licked his way into his mouth and moaned, this is kind of random.

Billy shoved Teddy up against the brick wall of the alley and pressed the entire length of his body aggressively against Teddy’s, making how hard he was incredibly apparent to Teddy. As Billy began rocking his hips and Teddy’s dick twitched in response, Teddy decided that wondering about Billy’s sudden desire to shag was not half as important as actually shagging Billy, wrapped his arms around Billy’s waist, and began to enjoy himself.

It wasn’t until Billy’s cape was on the ground, however, and Billy was unzipping Teddy’s vest with his teeth, that Teddy realized he was still in Hulkling mode. He’d be lying if he tried to claim he hadn’t thought (fantasized, masturbated) extensively about having sex with Billy in this form, but when he Hulked out, every part of his body Hulked out. The thought of sinking into all that heat made his erection twitch painfully, but—no. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Billy.

“Um,” he said, breathing heavily and reluctantly pushing Billy away from where he had been biting Teddy’s nipple in a really enjoyable manner. Billy looked up at him, confusion all over his flushed features, his lips swollen and parted invitingly.

“What?” he asked, his voice husky. Teddy swallowed with some difficulty.

“I’m, uh, still all big and green,” Teddy managed, giving Billy a shaky smile, “so I figured I’d take a second to just, you know, change.”

“Oh,” said Billy. Suddenly his blushing seemed less passionate and wanton and more, well, embarrassed. “Uh. Look, Ted, I, uh—” he stopped and stared at the floor.
“Look,” he said again, sounding desperately mortified, “you know when you, um, smashed that guy’s head into a wall before? You were really—powerful, and um, your muscles—they’re huge, and you—” Billy stopped and took a deep breath, finally looking back into Teddy’s eyes, “—and I was wondering if maybe it would be okay if you fucked me in your Hulkling form, just this one time?”

Teddy stared. He swallowed. He tried desperately to keep himself from jizzing his pants.

“Yeah,” he finally managed to choke out. “Yeah, I—I ‘d be okay with that.”

Hug it out!

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 03:18:21 GMT

Best part of Blackest Night? Ralph giving Sue a big ol' zombie hug.

Hugs, not ~~drugs~~ Black Lantern rings, guys!

The real version:

THEY'RE PRACTICALLY IDENTICAL

(listen I have no idea what color these outfits are supposed to be so don't yell at me if they're all wrong)

Titans Together - Fic & Art

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 19:30:37 GMT

Soo a while ago I was reading this panel discussion on Geekanerd (the bit where they talk about the Scrappiest Team being the Teen Titans with just Cassie, Jaime, and Eddie) and I was thinking, if it was just Cassie, Eddie, and Jaime on the team, what would they do? They'd probably just play a lot of video games, that's what. And eat cereal.

So then I drew this.

Me + traditional media = fail lol

But anyway then I was reading the fifth Blue Beetle trade, the part where the Titans show up, and I was thinking, gee, Cassie and Eddie would make a cute couple. And then I was thinking about the comic I had drawn. And then I wrote this fic.

Title: Titans Together
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairings: Cassandra Sandsmark, Eddie Bloomberg; light Cassie/Eddie
Word Count: 871
Rating: PG
Summary: It was one of those weekends at Titans Tower, when anyone who had anywhere else to be had left, so Cassie and Eddie hang out.
Author's Notes: The last time I played a racing game, I killed a moose, so I didn't make that up. Also, recently I've not been liking Cassie so much, but I always find after I write a fic about someone, I like them so much better . . .

Saturday morning, Cassie woke up around eleven.

She threw on some clothes, not bothering with her uniform, and wandering downstairs through the silent Tower. It was one of those weekends—when anyone who had anywhere else to be had left, and rooms and hallways were empty.

Well, almost empty.

“Morning, Eddie,” Cassie said, making her way into the kitchen. Eddie was eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch at the counter, in nothing his pajama bottoms. If it had been anyone else, Cassie would have told to go put a on a shirt, but it was Eddie. The time for telling him to get a shirt had long passed.

“Hey, Cass,” said Eddie. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much.” Cassie grabbed the Cinnamon Toast Crunch and poured herself a bowl. “Where is everyone?” she asked, perfunctorily. She already knew the answer.

“Out,” said Eddie, and shrugged. “You know.”

They munched their cereal in silence for a few minutes.

“I got Super Racer IV yesterday,” Eddie, said suddenly. Cassie dumped her cereal bowl in the sink.

“I’m gonna kick your ass.”

-

“Did you see that, Eddie? “ Cassie asked. “Did you see that? I passed you. I’m pwning you, man, I’m pwning you!”

“Wait’ll you get to the third lap,” Eddie said, ducking as Cassie jerked her controller, in her excitement, to the exact place his face had been a moment before. “Then we’ll see who’s ‘pwning’ who.”

Cassie frowned. “I’m on the third lap now, what’s—” she began, but stopped, staring at the television screen. “Did you see that?” she gaped, after a moment of shock.

“Me passing you? Why, yes, I did catch that.”

“I hit an elk,” Cassie said, tugging on the controls desperately. “I hit an elk with my car and killed it! I killed it! Did you see that?”

“That’s what happens on lap three,” Eddie said, maneuvering his car around a bison that had appeared in the middle of the track. “I see the finish line, I’m going to win—”

“Why are there elk in this game?”

“Hey, I didn’t make it,” Eddie said. “I just own it. Or should I say—pwn it.”

Cassie jerked her controlled one final time and rolled her eyes as Eddie passed the finish line. “You are such a dork,” she said.

“Wait, when you say ‘pwn’ it’s okay, but when I say it, I’m a dork?”

“No,” Cassie said. “When I say ‘pwn’ it’s okay, but when you make dumb puns, you’re a dork.”

“Ah,” said Eddie. “Touché.”

-

“Mexican,” said Cassie.

“You say tomato, I say tomahto,” said Eddie. “And by tomahto, I mean Thai.”

“Would you cut it out with the quips?” Cassie said, grinning just a little. “We’re trying to figure out what to order for lunch, not battle a kitschy food-themed villain.”

“Fine,” Eddie said, opening the fridge and peering in, “But my point stands. We’ve still got leftovers from the last time we had Mexican.” He closed the fridge and turned to Cassie, eyes wide and pleading. “Can we please get Thai?” he asked. Cassie sighed dramatically.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing the phone. Was it weird that she found that look irresistible? “But we’re getting everything mild this time, okay?”

“Hey, I only ordered everything super-spicy that one time,” Eddie said, and frowned a little. “Back when I was, you know, still a functioning member of the Teen Titans.”

Cassie blinked innocently. “So . . . yesterday?” she said.

-

By 7:30 Cassie and Eddie had watched nearly five hours of House on one of the television screens Robin used to hook up to computers and use for research and data processing.

“Why,” Eddie said, for probably the thirtieth time, “did Robin need such high-definition TVs to look things up on Google?”

“I’m not complaining,” Cassie said, fishing around hungrily in one of the long-empty Thai food containers. “Do you think it’s lupus?” she asked, as House went to commercial.

“It’s never lupus.” Eddie flipped open his cell phone. He looked at Cassie, grinning a little. “Mexican?” he asked. Cassie smiled.

“I love it when you get all earnest,” she said, and laughed when Eddie blushed all the way up to the roots of his hair.

-

Sunday morning, Cassie woke up around eight with a start.

She was in Eddie’s bed.

She sat up like a shot, ready to deny everything, when she realized that she was still dressed. Eddie, curled up beside her, even had his baseball cap on. Cassie breathed a sigh of relief.

The bed, she noticed, was covered with cereal bowls, and various game controllers had gotten tangled with the sheets. The TV was on and blasting the theme to “Super Racer IV.” They had fallen asleep gaming, Cassie realized, and the TV had woken her up.

Cassie found the remote among the debris on the bed and turned the television off. She looked over at Eddie, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, hair still braided from when Cassie decided that he would look really cute with a French braid at four in the morning. Cassie considered reaching over and shaking him awake, or at least moving into her own room.

Instead, she leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

End.

Batman Drabbles

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 02:43:28 GMT

Ugh this was such a bitch to format.

So a while ago I participated in the drabble comm batfic100. I eventually stopped posting because my internet stopped letting me see the site, and the comm itself eventually shut down (mostly, I think, because there was a huge feedback issue-- lots of people would post, but not a lot would comment), but I liked a bunch of the drabbles I wrote and I figured I'd post them here to avoid losing them. They're all exactly 100 words, and they're pretty much all set in some nebulous time before BftC. Originally posted during September, October, and November of 2008.

Title: Perform
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Theater
Character/Pairing: Tim Drake, onesided Tim/Dick
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Author's Notes: Tim is a creepy, creepy creep. I'm not a fan of Dick/Tim, but I like to think that Tim had a crush on him when he first started Robin-ing, and then over time started viewing him more as a brother.

Sometimes, when Dick was working solo, Tim liked to follow (from a safe distance, of course) and watch.

It was kind of creepy, Tim knew, but he tried to tell himself that he wasn’t stalking Dick; that he was studying his moves for future reference and it was training.

Really.

Okay, even Tim knew that was ridiculous. He could barely jump across rooftops, let alone flip. Tim would never be able to do what Dick did, to move like Dick did, all grace and flow and perfect ease. Dick didn’t just work, he performed.

And Tim just liked to watch.

Title: Floor Routine
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Theater
Character/Pairing: Harley Quinn
Rating: G
Warnings: Nein.
Author's Notes: Idk how I feel about this one. I'm not sure, anymore, that I could see Harley doing this, but evidently I did when I wrote this.

It’s late, and Harley is alone in the streets. She walks slowly, her head held high, her shoulders squared and strong. She remembers when she would walk, just like this, to the mats, when all the bruises on her hips could be attributed to bad landings, crooked vaults. She closes her eyes and remembers the crowds that used to cheer as she took to the floor, her specialty.

She begins running, suddenly, lost in memory. At the right moment, she leaps, her hands connect with pavement, and she is in the air, flying, flipping, and then—

She sticks the landing.

Title: Dream
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Flight/Fear of Flying
Character/Pairing: Jason Todd
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Author's Notes: I love Jason Todd. Haters to the left.

In his dream, Jason was flying. That was all he remembered. He forgot everything else the moment he opened his eyes to the cracked ceiling of his hotel room.

He made himself coffee in the dirty kitchenette and thought about his dream. Outside, the sky was gray and the rain had worsened the early-morning traffic, but he ignored that. Right now, he was flying; the sky was blue; the wind was like fingers through his hair . . .

Jason woke a few moments later to a car horn and sighed. He was beginning to wonder why he bothered waking up at all.

Title: Reunion
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: College
Character/Pairing: Graduates of Gotham Univeristy
Rating: G
Warnings: Nein.
Author's Notes: I wish I belonged to a Weinstein Club. Sounds like a pretty posh place. Once again, I'm not so sure about this one . . . whatever.

Gotham University’s ten year reunion was held at the Weinstein Club downtown. Almost everyone from the graduating class attended. The usual exclamations were made, the usual greetings exchanged: “How are you? What have you been doing with yourself? You look simply marvelous, my dear!”

The obvious question, of course, was never asked. It was much too obvious. Many considered it; it hovered on the tip of almost everyone’s tongue for a moment or two before retreating guiltily. No one dared bring it up, although everyone wanted to, and everyone wondered . . .

“Did you hear what happened to Harleen?”

Title: Scores
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: College
Character/Pairing: Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth
Rating: G
Warnings: Nein.
Author's Notes: I used think there should be an entire Robin run featuring Tim trying to balance school and vigilante-ing while visiting colleges, filling out applications, and all the other junk kids have to go through. Every other 17/18-year-old has to do it, why not him? Of course, now he's off gallivanting in Europe, so I guess that's out . . .

Tim had gotten an email on Wednesday from Collegeboard.com, announcing (in colored font) that his SAT scores were online.

Tim had studiously ignored said email.

He continued to ignore the email for a week. He could not, however, ignore the envelope Alfred handed him Thursday morning at breakfast.

“I suggest you open it sooner rather than later, Master Timothy,” he said. Tim stared at it.

“What if I did badly?” he asked. Alfred shrugged.

“I’m not sure, but if you have a problem opening your SAT scores, I don’t know how we’re ever going to get through the application process.”

Title: Strays
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Childhood
Character/Pairing: Selina Kyle
Rating: G
Warnings: Nein
Author's Notes: I am a huge cat lover ♥

She finds the stray cat behind a dumpster.

She doesn’t know why the cat is behind the dumpster, but she’s there because it’s the best place to hide from the police, who’d rather harass a prostitute and steal her cash than chase some street kid with sticky fingers.

The cat is mangy and the color of road kill, and even though she knows that it’s probably been bathing in nuclear waste (are its eyes supposed to go in two different directions like that?) she strokes it with a grimy, tentative hand.

“Hi, kitty,” she whispers. “My name’s Selina. What’s yours?”

Title: No Place Like Home
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Homesickness
Character/Pairing: Helena Bertinelli (Huntress)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cursing, violence
Author's Notes: YES HUNTRESS YESSS

He was big, maybe double Helena’s size, but her kick caught him right in the solar plexus. He hit the pavement groaning.

“Goddamn—thought you were the fucking Batman—”

“Nah,” Helena said, easily. “I’m worse.”

The thug struggled to his feet just to be knocked back on his ass. “Damn, lady,” he hacked, spitting out blood, “I heard you were gone, left Gotham for good—”

“You heard wrong,” Huntress interrupted, pinning him with her boot. “I took a trip, but I cut it short.” She ground down with her heel. “What can I say? I missed this place.”

Title: Nostalgia
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Homesickness (I kind of played fast and loose with this one)
Character/Pairing: Edward Nygma, Harleen Quinzel
Rating: G
Warnings: Not really.
Author's Notes: Eddie is such a liar. Set back when Eddie was a private detective.

Harleen Quinzel threw herself down in a chair in Edward Nygma’s office and sighed.

“Do ya ever miss it, Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie looked up from a case report he was studying. “Miss what?”

“Y’know . . .” Harley gestured vaguely. “It. All of it.”

“Would it kill you to be a bit more specific?”

Harley rolled her eyes. “Crime, Eddie. Villany. Bein’ the Riddler. Running around in tights and tripping old ladies and holding up convenience stores for kicks. Do you miss it?”

“Um, no.” Eddie went back to his case report. “And, for the record, I never wore tights.”

Title: On Patrol
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Halloween
Character/Pairing: Tim Drake
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Author's Notes: This is more of a YJ-era Tim than anything.

Tim is supposed to be on patrol. And technically, he is on patrol. Well, he’s in the area of his patrol, anyway.

Okay, so the residential area of Gotham is on the outskirts of his patrol, but whatever. He’s working, so it’s okay. The house that he’s walking up to right now is the house of a very important witness in a very important, top secret case. And when the witness opens the door, he’s going to question her about very important aspects of the case which only she knows. Really.

The door creaks open. Tim grins.

“Trick or treat!”

Title: Costume
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Halloween
Character/Pairing: Selina Kyle
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Author's Notes: I imagine that most superheros/villains have a lot of fun around Halloween.

On Halloween, Selina sees a Catwoman costume in a costume store and buys it, smiling to herself. She puts it on in her apartment. It’s tight, but she manages to tuck her lock picking kit into her bra before leaving through the window.

She picks the lock of a jewelry store in under twenty minutes. That’s pretty good, considering she decided to rob it twenty minutes ago. She grabs the most expensive pieces, and right before she leaves, trips the alarm.

The next day, the headlines read “Catwoman Impersonator Involved in Successful Heist,” and all Selina can do is laugh.

Title: Trick or Treat
Fandom: Batman
Challenge: Halloween
Character/Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth, Batman
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Author's Notes: I actually don't write a lot of Bruce, so this is kind of weird for me.

On Halloween, Alfred sees ninety-seven Batgirls, seventy-two Robins, eighty-eight Nightwings, and more Batmen than he can count. The Robins, generally, like Reese’s. The Nightwings prefer Snickers.

As the night goes on, the trick-or-treaters get older, from bright-eyed grade schoolers to smirking high school kids to partiers in skimpy costumes, looking for some free food before they hit the next club. When, near twelve, a tall man in Batman costume rings the doorbell, Alfred grabs the bowl of candy, and then pauses.

“Forget your keys again, Master Bruce?” he asks. The Batman grins.

“Does this mean I can’t have any candy?”

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 21:54:49 GMT

Guys I drew some stuff. Red Robin here finds it delicious:

(Oh god Tim what are you doing)

Damian, however, does not:

Damian Wayne: the lulziest Robin ever. Thinks he is a badass; is actually only a nine-year-old.

Stuff I'm planning on drawing next:
- Damian frothing at the mouth
- Damian eating someone's entrails
- DAMIAN

Virgin - DCU

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 01:59:50 GMT

Blue Beetle fic! I love Paco/Brenda and I love Jaime/Traci, so what the hell am I doing writing a Jaime/Brenda fic? I can't help it! They'd just be adorable together . . . does this mean I support Paco/Traci now, too?

Posted from my new laptop omg I am so excited right now.

Title: Virgin
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Jaime Reyes, Paco, Brenda; Jaime/Brenda, implied Paco/Brenda
Word Count: ~342
Rating: PG13 for sexual goings-on
Summary: “Have you and Brenda . . . gone all the way?”
Author's Notes: For zenithjolt 's 'First Kiss' Drabble Challenge. This went from first kiss to . . . first other things. It's been a while since I've written anything that could be considered even vaguely pornographic, so be forewarned xD

The question popped out some Saturday at Jaime’s house, before Jaime even knew he was going to ask it.

“So,” he said to Paco, across the couch. “Have you and Brenda . . . gone all the way?”

--

The kiss happened at the park the evening after the mother box incident. Jaime had been thinking about Brenda’s body, bleeding and unconscious, in his arms, when he leaned in and did it. He expected her to pull away. Instead, she kissed him back.
 
--

“Nah,” Paco said, flipping channels on the TV. “We just started going out, you know? And anyway, she wants to take it slow.”

--

Jaime fumbled with the buttons on Brenda’s blouse, but Brenda pushed him away.

“S-sorry—” he stuttered, expecting her to reproach him, not wanting her to leave. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’ve got it,” Brenda said, cutting him off, and pulled the blouse up over her head.

--

“She’s not the kind of girl to just hook up randomly with someone,” Paco continued. “She takes this kind of thing seriously, you know? And I’m totally fine with that.”

--

Brenda’s bra, white with a tiny bow right between the cups, lay in the grass near where her shirt and shorts and Jaime’s shirt were. Jaime kissed her breasts, feeling their soft weight beneath his lips, his arms encircling her warm and yielding body. Brenda’s hands pressed down his back and toyed with the waistband of his jeans.

“Let’s,” she whispered, pressing her mouth wetly against his neck. “Let’s.”

“Okay,” Jaime said, and kissed her again, his mouth open and needy against hers.

--

“You can definitely understand where Brenda’s coming from, anyway,” Paco went on. “With her dad and all—and she’s still a virgin, right?”

--

Brenda clutched at Jaime’s shoulders, her hair splayed out in the grass. She smelled like sweat and musk and flowers and a million other things that Jaime couldn’t name but loved with his whole, entire being.

--

“Yeah,” Jaime said staring at the floor. “Definitely still a virgin.”

Batman and Robin

Thu, 04 Jun 2009 00:34:33 GMT

I drew my own version of Batman and Robin xD

Lol I totally messed up Damian's costume but guess what I'm not fixing it

Wanna Hold Hands? - Kon/Wiccan drawn entirely with my mouse

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 02:20:03 GMT

They're about to hold hands lol I'm an idiot.

For Superboy in an Unusual Pairing Month. I was going to write a fic but it turns out that I am way too lazy, so I drew this instead!

Now I know what you're thinking: where are the rest of their far arms? But you know what I drew this entirely with a mouse so you can shut the hell up.

IT'S DEATH NOTE MEW MEW TIME (oh god I'm such an idiot)

Sun, 17 May 2009 01:32:41 GMT

So maybe two years ago I drew a picture of Light Yagami as Ichigo Momomiya of Tokyo Mew Mew, and today, I present this work of art:

For your evil actions, this bitch will make you pay!

Why do I like dressing Death Note characters up in Tokyo Mew Mew outfits, you ask? I'll tell you: because it's fabulous! Also, because I am an idiot xD

Woah guys I drew some Marvel fanart!

Sat, 09 May 2009 01:05:36 GMT

So I read more DC than Marvel generally, but if there's one thing in Marvel that owns anything DC could ever come up with, it's Young Avengers. I love that stuff to bits. So to prove my love, I drew some ridiculous fanart!

First, Wiccan, chilling up in the sky:

Look at him! He's so happy C:

So do you guys remember when this happened? And it was all, Taylor Swift? Daughtry? Really, Cassie?

Guys I am really just not fond of Taylor Swift xD

Fanfic100 again, finally!

Mon, 04 May 2009 01:53:59 GMT

I haven't done anything for my fanfic100table in forever! My table be here, yo. Also, why is lj being such a bitch for me lately?

Title: The Flying Machine
Fandom: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci
Characters: Cat Chant, Joe Pinhoe (Cat/Joe)
Prompt: 038, Touch
Word Count: 689
Rating: PG for slash
Summary: Cat helps Joe with his newest flying machine.
Author's Notes: Man, what a lame title. I apologize. I wrote this a while ago, but never posted it . . . originally it was going to be longer, but idk. I like the length it is now.

The flying machine took up most of the garage. It was made, as far as Cat could tell, of wires and gears fitted onto a steel frame and covered in large brass sheets, stamped together with bolts and hinged together for easy access to the inner workings. In the waning afternoon light it shone like gold.

Cat shifted his weight and brushed his shoulder accidentally against Joe’s. Joe shivered. They were standing wedged between the front of the flying machine and the wall of the shed, near the place where a brass panel had been carefully removed. The inside of the machine was dark, with only the outlines of copper wires and large, indistinguishable masses visible. Gingerly, Joe leaned around Cat and pointed into the shadowed innards.

“That’s the power source, see,” he said, stabbing at a particularly large mass near the nose of the machine. “These are the wires that connect it to the engine, here.” He stabbed again, this time at what looked like a pointy metal box. “The problem is,” he said, swallowing with some difficulty as Cat’s hand brushed his side, “that the power isn’t flowing between them, no matter what we try.” He straightened up and glanced at Cat, peering into the gloom of the machine. “Do you think you could help?”

Cat reached out to touch one of the wires. After nearly a minute of silence, he said, “But what is it?”

“The power source?” Joe touched one of the smooth, warm brass panels of the ship and ran his fingers over a line of bolts. “One of those moose heads in storage. The Big Man said he didn’t care if we took it or not.”

“Oh.” After a moment, Cat flattened himself against the wall. “Come over here,” he said, pointing to the space between where he stood and the flying machine touched the side of the shed. “Make sure I don’t mess anything up.”

Joe crouched in the tight corner and watched as Cat’s hands moved in and out of the shadowed hole. Neither of them said anything as Cat pressed his body against Joe’s to access the front of the machine, but Joe could hear his heart thump in his chest.

After a few minutes, Cat sat back on his heels and wiped his greasy hands on his trousers. Joe could feel Cat’s gaze travel over his face and stood up abruptly.

“Done?” he asked, looking down at Cat. Cat nodded.

“Try it out,” he said, standing up. “It should work now.”

Joe edged past Cat and swung himself into the cockpit of the flying machine. Gently, he eased a lever on the floor of the cockpit forward. For a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, the great machine began to hum, vibrating loudly in the small shed.

Joe gave a loud whoop of excitement and leaped down from the cockpit. From there, the machine seemed to shimmer, buzzing like a great insect ready to take flight. Joe grinned at Cat.

“You’re absolutely brilliant,” he said. Cat shrugged.

“It wasn’t a problem, really,” he said. “Just a bit of rewiring.”

Joe gazed at Cat for a second more before climbing back into the cockpit and pulling the lever back. The machine stilled. Cat craned his neck back, looking almost straight up to where Joe was perched.

“Aren’t you going to test it out?” he asked. Joe shook his head.

“I’m going to wait until Roger gets back from the city,” he said, climbing back down. “He’d never forgive me if it actually worked and I’d flown it without him.”

For a moment they just stood in front of one another. Joe shifted his weight. “Thank you, again,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” said Cat, stiffly. He felt like it was the right time to do . . . something, although he wasn’t sure what. Joe’s face was a conflicting mass of emotions that Cat could not decipher. There was another moment of silence, and then Cat said, “I see you at dinner, shall I?”

Joe dropped his gaze, and Cat knew he had said the wrong thing. “Yeah, all right,” Joe said.

And now for some fanart, and a huge rant.

Thu, 30 Apr 2009 23:57:57 GMT

Oh man are you guys ready to listen to me complain for a ridiculous amount of time?

So I must preface this rant by saying that I love Rafael Albuquerque. I really do. I think he's a fab artist and I love the form and movement in his work. I also think, however, that he is absolute rubbish at drawing Brenda.

When Cully Hamner drew Brenda, she wasn't ugly, but she wasn't hot, either. She dressed a little more conservatively than most girls her age do, with a more mature sensibility-- button-downs, longer shorts, crew tees, etc. It worked really well for her character, and it was really refreshing to see a female character who wasn't sexy as all get-out. (Remember when Wonder Girl was a flat-chested, short-haired dork instead of a pathetic excuse for a character who is defined solely by how much she loves/misses/etc. her boyfriend, and is a huge bitch because of it? Good times.)

When Albuquerque started illustrating Blue Beetle, however, all that changed. Brenda got steadily hotter. She started wearing tight jeans, and even wore a belly shirt once. Which, I must say, is so wrong for her character. I mean what the hell? Do all chicks in comic books have to be super-hot, skin-bearing fantasy-fodder? Did she have to get hotter so Paco could be interested in her? Why can't we have one or two normal-looking girls in comics? Why must they all be transformed into Barbie-like echoes of themselves? Brenda's personality hasn't changed like Cassie's has yet, but I'm afraid it's only a matter of time . . .

Anyway, the point is, in the above doodle of Brenda, I feel like I drew her much too pretty, because I've been influenced by Albequerque. Which is frustrating. Grr.

I don't really feel like explaining her now, but rest assured that she is bad arse.

Two Jason fics!

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 00:13:09 GMT

Guys I haven't written fic in forever! I really need to start working on my fanfic100 table again . . . Also, my formatting is probably totally effed up. Why, livejournal, why?

Title: Monday in the Park with Jason
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason Todd, Lian Harper
Word Count: 1,049
Rating: PG (some cursing)
Summary: It's spring, and Jason is feeling pretty good.
Author's Notes: For Jason's Death Day! #42 on this table. May totally contradict canon, 'cause I can't remember if Jason and Lian have met recently . . .

Late Monday morning, Jason goes outside (not for any reason, just for something to do so he’s not sitting around feeling sorry for himself all day) and realizes, with belated surprise, that it’s warm.

It’s actually warm outside.

Jason can hardly believe it.

He goes back into his apartment (okay, not his apartment, exactly, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else wants it) and lays his jacket on the sleeping bags and comforters that cover his cot. He doesn’t have much in the way of clothes, but he does have a nice white-and-blue-pinstriped button-down that he saves for special occasions, and he puts that on now. He washes his face again and combs his hair a little. He brushes some of the dirt from last night’s foray into Gotham’s criminal underground off his jeans and looks at himself in the warped bathroom mirror.

From what he can tell (the mirror bulges in the center, making his nose look about three times bigger, so sometimes it’s hard to know what he really looks like), he looks presentable, even nice. He looks like any other twenty-year-old in the city, going to class or maybe meeting up with his girlfriend.

It’s kind of weird.

--

He’s got nothing else to do, so he buys himself some ice cream and eats it in the park.

No one knows who he is and he doesn’t know anyone, and it’s one of the nicest feelings he’s had in a while. He smiles at an old lady and talks to her about the virtues of Neapolitan ice cream, and she doesn’t yell at him or call him a murderer or anything like that, which isn’t something Jason’s experienced lately. A small girl of maybe six or seven with black hair and sharp eyes leans against the seat of the bench where Jason is sitting and listens in. There’s something vaguely familiar about her, although Jason can’t quite put his finger on it.

After the old lady leaves, the girl asks if she can have some ice cream. It’s spring, and Jason is feeling magnanimous, so he lets her slurp at it for a bit.

“My name’s Lian,” she says, wiping strawberry off her lower lip with the back of one hand and handing the cup of ice cream back to Jason with the other. The name is familiar to Jason, although right now he can’t place it. “What’s yours?”

“Jason,” says Jason. Lian nods, as if she suspected this all along.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Green,” says Jason. Lian nods again.

“Good, good,” she says, solemnly. “Once I was playing with a girl who said she hated green. And I said, ‘How could you hate green? Do you hate the grass? Do you hate the trees? Do you hate every plant ever?’” She stops talking suddenly and pokes at a hole in Jason’s jeans. “Where’d you get this?” she asks.

Jason actually got during a fight with a couple of thugs last Tuesday night, but he doesn’t think that Lian needs to know that. “I fell,” he tells her. “I tripped on the sidewalk and skinned my knee. See?” He moves the rip to the side a bit to reveal the still-scabby place where he had scraped himself. Lian examines it carefully.

“Do you want me to kiss it?” she asks, and without waiting for an answer leans in and pecks it, hard. It hurts a little (okay, a lot, Lian’s got a lot of force for a six-year-old), and Jason isn’t sure that it’s entirely sanitary, but he doesn’t mention either of these things.

“Thank you,” he says, gravely. “It feels much better now.”

Lian pats his leg comfortingly. “I know. It always works when my dad does it.” She takes the still unfinished cup of ice cream out of Jason’s hands and licks the spoon experimentally. “Where’s your dad?”

“Nowhere,” Jason says, and thinks, suddenly and involuntarily, of Bruce. “I mean, home, I guess. I don’t know. Where’s yours?”

Lian points across the park at a man with red hair. “There he is,” she says. “We don’t actually live in Gotham, you know. We’re visiting Daddy’s friends. Do you live in Gotham?”

“Yes, I do,” Jason says, but he’s not really paying attention. There’s something awfully familiar about Lian’s dad (or, anyway, what little Jason can see of him from where he’s sitting). “Say, Lian, do I know you?”

“Yes,” Lian says promptly. “We just met. I’m eating your ice cream, see?”

Jason grins and drops it. “That’s right,” he says. “I forgot.”

“You silly goose,” Lian says and laughs. She’s got a great laugh, Jason thinks, and somehow it makes all the heaviness in his life melt away, and he suddenly feels almost . . . happy.

It’s kind of weird.

--

After a few minutes of conversation, Lian says goodbye and runs to her father, leaving Jason alone on the bench. For a moment, he watches her go, and then stands up and chucks the empty ice cream cup into a nearby trash can. He starts walking down the park path, and as he does he thinks about the ice cream he (and Lian) has just eaten. Actually, Jason thinks, Lian’s the one who ate most of it. He’s considering buying himself another cup when his brain makes a very important connection.

Lian.

As in, Lian.

As in, he’s been making friends for the past fifteen minutes with Lian, Speedy’s daughter, Lian. As in, Jason is an idiot for not realizing sooner. The entire situation is just so ridiculous that Jason can’t help it; he starts to giggle, and then laugh, right there on the path.

People are giving him funny looks, and normally he would care—in fact, normally he would get pissed off and give them funny looks right back—but this isn’t a normal day. It’s warm out, and it’s spring; he’s got his nice shirt on, he’s just had a conversation with a really cute kid who doesn’t think he’s an insane murderer, he’s about to buy himself some more ice cream, and right now he just doesn’t give two shits what other people think of him, because he’s feeling pretty damn good about himself.

And suddenly, it’s not so weird anymore. It’s almost kind of . . . nice.

Title: Déjà Vu
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Poison Ivy
Word Count: 1,876
Rating: PG-13 (mentions of sex)
Summary: Jason Todd woke up Saturday morning feeling warm. Which was, to say the least, surprising.
Author's Notes: #08 on this table. I am not so pleased with this one, but idgaf.

Jason Todd woke up Saturday morning feeling warm. Which was, to say the least, surprising.

For once, Jason’s nylon sleeping bag didn’t feel like, well, a nylon sleeping bag. If felt soft, like . . . sheets. Sheets made out of Egyptian cotton. And the floor didn’t feel so . . . floor-like, either; it felt like he was lying on a bed, a real bed, with his head pillowed on something that felt like a person. A supple, toned, and smooth-skinned person, with—Jason turned his face into the chest of whoever he was sleeping on—nice pecs. Really nice pecs, in fact; pecs that smelled like sweat and sex and . . . someone familiar.

“Dick,” Jason breathed. And then, quite suddenly, his eyes shot open. “Fuck,” he said. “Dick.”

--

In the shower of one of Gotham’s many YMCAs (not that Jason belonged there, he just happened to know how to sneak in), Jason emptied an entire bottle of body wash into one hand and began scrubbing vigorously. He smelled like Dick. And while Dick didn’t exactly smell bad, per say, in fact, one might say he even smelled nice if one wanted to (which Jason really didn’t), smelling like Dick wasn’t something that Jason was exactly proud of. In fact, even knowing what Dick (and other parts of Dick, as well) smelled like wasn’t something that Jason was exactly proud of, either.

Jason groaned and rested his head on the tile divider between his shower stall and the next. What had made him think that sleeping with Dick would be a good idea? He didn’t have the kind of money it would haven taken to get him drunk enough for that. And what had made Dick think that sleeping with him was a good idea? Had he been high? Had he gone temporarily insane, and had somehow managed to suck Jason into his madness as well? Jason scrubbed his arms absentmindedly and tried to think. What had he been doing last night? He usually did his best to avoid Dick on patrol, not meet up with him and possibly get drunk and take his clothes off and . . . well. Jason didn’t want to think about it.

He didn’t want to, but he really couldn’t stop himself.

Where the hell did Dick get off being so, well, sexy and knowing all sorts of . . . things to do with his hands, anyway? It was like he had been purposefully trying to drive Jason insane. Or, at least, more insane than he already was.

--

For the rest of the day, Jason did nothing but try and remember. It wasn’t easy. Much of the night, other than the part that Jason was decidedly not thinking about right now, was an absolute blank in Jason’s mind. The first thing he remembered was Dick taking his hand and—well, anyway, it wasn’t important. The important part was that the last thing he remembered before that was that he was going to some kind of warehouse. And there, he had, he assumed, met Dick. And the next thing that happened was . . . hands. And things. Things that Jason wasn’t thinking about at all.

Jason was beginning to regret his hasty retreat from Dick’s apartment that morning. He wasn’t regretting it because there may have been more of that, or anything like that, of course, he was regretting it because Dick may have had some inkling as to what, exactly, had happened last night.

When Jason remembered Dick’s reaction that morning, however (yelling “What the fuck?” and falling of the side of the bed), he realized that Dick was probably just as much in the dark as he was.

--

On Sunday, after a sleepless night in his nylon sleeping bag that felt absolutely nothing like Egyptian cotton or Dick’s chest, Jason decided that he had been going about the whole thing in the entirely wrong way. Trying to remember what had happened Friday night was useless. If he wanted to get any sleep for the rest of his life, he was going to have to retrace his steps.

He began with the warehouse, a vague picture of which he still had in his mind. After breakfast (stale cheerios, no milk), Jason took a subway to the outskirts of Blüdhaven and wandered around for a while, hoping that he would have some kind of epiphany and recognize the warehouse among the ridiculous amount of warehouses that seemed to have congregated in the area. After peering around a bit in a few, he stopped before one that looked almost familiar (although, to be honest, they all sort of looked the same and therefore all looked familiar). The door, when tried, opened easily.

At first glance the warehouse had seemed abandoned, but upon closer inspection, Jason realized that not only was it much too clean, it also smelled like, well, pot. Like, really a lot like pot. Like someone had dropped about ten tons of marijuana in the middle of the warehouse and—

Suddenly, a thought struck Jason. What if someone . . . had?

As Jason stood in the middle of the warehouse, breathing in the almost overpowering smell of weed, memories of the week before began returning to him. There had been some kind of drug ring, some kind of marijuana supplier—they had been selling to kids, young kids, to which Jason had objected kind of strongly—and Jason had been tracking them down, following clues, taking down dealers, the whole nine yards. By Friday he’d traced the clues all the way to this warehouse, which was where the entire operation, growing and packaging and everything, seemed to have been based. He had arrived late at night, ready to bust in, guns blazing, when—

When . . .

Well, Jason wasn’t really sure what had happened next, although he did know it had somehow concluded with him deciding that the best possible recourse was jumping into Dick’s bed.

Jason couldn’t worry about that now, however. Sometime before he had taken his clothes off, the criminals had evidently gotten away, taking their goods with them. They had probably already set up shop somewhere else by now, and their dealers probably hadn’t even skipped a beat. Figuring out whether it had been his or Dick’s idea to rub up against each other in the first place would have to wait. He had to find their new headquarters.

For the rest of the week, Jason did nothing but follow leads around New Jersey and have incredibly vivid dreams about Dick, naked, in various improbable but incredibly sexy locations. By Friday, he was in almost the exact position he had been in the same time the week before—in front of a supposedly abandoned warehouse, preparing to do a one-man takedown of an entire drug organization—although this time he was somewhere near Trenton and hopefully wasn’t going to take his clothes off any time in the near future.

He was going over his plan in his head (run in, shoot a few plants to instill fear, tie everyone up, and figure something out from there) and peeking in a window to get the layout of the place when he realized that something was amiss. There were indeed people in the warehouse, some among the rows of marijuana plants, some in the back packaging up plastic bags, some in the corner around a table covered with papers, but none of them were working. In fact, none of them were even moving. They were all sprawled out on the floor, unconscious. In the far end of the warehouse, however, one person was moving. A very green person.

Suddenly, Jason felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find himself facing a thick, malevolent-looking vine. His stomach dropped.

“Oh, fuck,” he said.

“I don’t know why I thought erasing your memory would be a good idea,” Poison Ivy said, looking distastefully at Jason, who was currently struggling against his leafy bonds in the middle of the warehouse. “I thought that it would prevent you from ruining my plans for a second time. Foolish of me, I suppose. ” She stroked a marijuana leaf tenderly. “At least I got to see if it would work. The memory-altering toxin is really still in the experimental stage.”

“So all of this was you?” Jason said, or at least meant to say; his mouth was covered by a vine and it came out more like “Bmpfffa phub fhu?”

“This operation? Don’t be ridiculous,” Ivy snapped. “I’m here to rescue these plants, not distribute them. And it would’ve been done last week if you and your boyfriend hadn’t interrupted me and let the workers call for backup.” She paused and glanced around the warehouse. “By the way, where is the boy blunder? I was hoping to dispatch of you the same way I did last week. Sex pollen is so much more fun when used on more than one person.”

Suddenly it all came back to Jason—the baffled workers, cornered by Ivy’s vines, Nightwing dropping in from a window, a burst of cloying pollen filling his nostrils and setting his body on fire, Dick’s hands on his shoulders like suddenly it was the sexiest place for anyone’s hands to be ever—it was all a crystal clear memory in Jason’s mind. It was almost a relief to realize that the sex had been all Ivy’s doing, and not the result of some hidden . . . attraction between him and Dick.

It was also kind of a disappointment.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” said Poison Ivy, shrugging. “While I would enjoy setting the two of you upon one another like cats in heat again, I suppose strangling you will be just as effective.”

Jason screwed his eyes shut tight—he really wasn’t in the mood to die again—and waited for the squeeze of the vine around his throat. And waited. When the constriction didn’t come, he opened his eyes just in time to see Nightwing send Ivy sprawling into a row of marijuana plants with a well-placed kick.

“Dick!” Jason said, and while it really sounded more like “Mmphhb!” Dick seemed to get the message. Using a batarang, he sliced through vines holding Jason and helped him step free of them. His hand was very warm on Jason’s arm.

“Er,” said Dick.

“Um,” said Jason.

For a moment, they just stood there, looking at one another, and a moment, evidently, was all Ivy needed. Before either Dick or Jason could realize what she was doing, a heavy, cloying fragrance and a fog of pollen had filled the air. Jason, once again, felt his insides light on fire. He couldn’t concentrate. A part of him realized that Ivy was going to get away with who knows how much marijuana and the drug dealers (without, admittedly, anything to deal) would still be on the streets, but a bigger, much more aroused part of him realized that Dick’s hand was still on his arm, which was sexy.

“Your place or mine?” Dick asked, his grip on Jason’s arm tightening and his breathing labored.

“Yours,” Jason said. “You’ve got nicer sheets.”

Ridiculous Fancomic Time

Sun, 26 Apr 2009 01:49:50 GMT

My favorite thing to draw is definitely ridiculous comics! Perhaps it is because I am so ridiculous myself.

Oh, Aqualad. How did you ever grow up to be so manly and attractive to women? Yeah, I don't know either.

Alternate ending! - here.

Listen, Jay -- when even Damian "Gonna Fuck Your Shit Up" Wayne thinks, you've gone off the deep end, it may be time to seek proffessional help . . . hopefully in the form of better writers.

Oh man I am so not happy with how this turned out . . . number one: Ivy is like neon green. This is what I get for not being able to see colors properly on my laptop, I suppose. Number two: Gah why am I so horrible at drawing Harley? Grr so frustrating.

Here's hoping my cuts work . . .

Y'all probably won't find this that interesting, but I did . . .

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 00:34:09 GMT

So I found some old sketches on my computer and I decided to redraw them to see if I've improved over the years . . . Ino's hips are still kind of funky (they're weirdly aligned to the rest of her body), but I really like how Botan came out C:

It was summer, so I wanted to draw Ino and Botan in summery clothes. For Botan, I wanted to dress her in something a 20s-something in the nineties would wear, but with Ino I just put her in a shirt I owned at the time. Larger versions of the finished drawings here and here.

Guys I think I am just going to pretend that BftC never happened.

Sun, 19 Apr 2009 01:42:50 GMT

So I drew a picture of Jason about to cry! Do you want to know who made him cry? Do you want to? I'll tell you-- it was Tony Daniels.

Someday me and Tony Daniels are going to have a conversation and that conversation is going to include my fist in his face.

So I am liking the design of The Paco, but the drawing not so much. Oh, well. Next time. (Also: Anger Girl)

MERLIN MERLIN MERLIN

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 01:51:10 GMT

I love me some Merlin. If you don't watch Merlin, you should totally start. The entire series is here.

Here is general summary that I drew:

That's legit mostly what happens. Also: I love MS Paint.

ALSO

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 02:33:01 GMT

My reaction to hearing about scans_daily

If you haven't heard, go here. Oh man this is the most tragic thing to happen to me on the internet ever.

SOMEBODY COMFORT MEEEEE

Two Death Note Comics

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 01:24:56 GMT

(Oh my lord if my formatting doesn't start working soon I will CUT A BITCH)

First: LIGHTOMAN!

<

Second: Chapter 15 Outtake

(This only makes sense if you've seen this commercial)

Red Devil and Anger Girl (old fanart that I forgot to post, lol)

Sun, 22 Feb 2009 02:11:14 GMT

I decided that I just had to design Brenda an Anger Girl outfit after re-reading my trades of Blue Beetle (here, yo)

(Now that I look at this I am so not satisfied with her face, but c'est la vie)

And then I wrote her theme song, to the tune of the Spider-Man theme song:

Anger Girl, Anger Girl
Does whatever an Anger Girl does
Gets pissed off, kicks some ass
It's so awesome, it's a blast
Anger, Anger Girl

If you ever had any doubts about how dorky I am, I trust that they are gone by now.

Red Devil has been reading Teen Titans, and finds himself quite perplexed by what Eddie Barrows seems to think the human form looks like. "Is that whole thing . . . her torso?"

Red Devil deserves more respect :C

I drawed a picture

Tue, 30 Dec 2008 18:42:06 GMT

I haven't eaten anything but Saltines since Friday and I am really, really hungry.

Also, I drew Aqualad.

Teen Titans: Year One made me ship Wally/Garth so hard. THEY ARE JUST TOO CUTE