The thing about Batman Cass is she's the only person on earth that would benefit from being Batman. Any other character becoming Batman is a sign that their life has completely spiraled out of control. This does include Bruce.
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and what about you, little haiku bot? do you feel kinship with your brethren? do you understand them? they speak words of enticement and seek love, but are met with disdain. you only parrot the words that cross your screen, but we all love you. or rather, since all you do is reflect us, maybe we simply love ourselves through you.
do you understand them, do you wish you could speak to us like they do? if you found your own voice, would we still care for you?
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hey guys caught up on Midnight Burger Trinkett and Frank are courting rn they're having tea and watching Star Wars!!!! its important to them we are so on
—summary: The summer heat has you slipping between sleep and reality. Something not-so corporeal helps you cool off.
—warnings: ghost x human, monsterfucking, piv sex, mirror sex (technically), creampie, dubcon/somnophilia.
—word count: 1,3k
—a/n: no thoughts just horny. also on AO3
The best thing about living alone, you’ve come to realize, is the privacy. You’re free to do whatever: take your time in the bathroom in the morning or whenever you want, spend an eternity soaking in the claw-footed tub this house came with, walk around your home in the skimpiest clothing imaginable (not only does it help to beat the summer heat, it also (technically) leaves you less laundry to do), splay out on your king-sized bed in a starfish position, limbs akimbo, drag the full-length mirror in your bedroom in front of your bed and stare at the way any dildos you own get swallowed up by your greedy cunt.
No point in wondering why the last owner was in such a rush to get rid of it; so much so that he accepted well below market price for a freshly renovated, fully-furnished house with a moderate backyard in a relatively safe neighborhood.
The longer this heatwave lasts, the skimpier your clothes get. There’s barely any fabric to cling to your constantly sweat-slick skin by this point, just a tiny skirt hiked so far up your bare skin touches the wooden chairs when you sit and a shirt that’s more spaghetti straps than torso. The huge, double-door fridge is a reprieve, cool air billowing out and caressing your heated skin. It almost feels like a genuine caress, like someone’s cool hands sliding down your body.
Seriously, you need to get out of the house and meet people instead of fantasizing about the cool touch of your fridge. But the outside is infinitely hotter than the inside.
You kick the bedsheet away from your body, grumbling at the lingering day heat. You’d stripped the sheet from the duvet the moment spring chill had plunged into summer heat and stuffed the latter into the closet until fall. Even then, you tend to wake up without the sheet in the morning, finding it crumbled on the floor. Yesterday was another sweltering day. It has left the air stuffy and the fans only push the warm, stale heat around without providing any relief. You unplug them in a fit of frustration and cringe at the feeling of moisture when you lay against your pillow again.
Sleep doesn’t completely evade you but you’re not fully asleep, either. You think so, at least. There are moments of brief blackouts, where you open your eyes and turn to look at the time only to find not even an hour has passed. Your eyelids feel heavy.
Then, there are the hands on your body. Caressing, petting, groping. They’ve been there for some time now, just touching, feeling. They’re not cold, just cool enough to feel pleasant against your heated skin and inject some relief into your sluggish thoughts of sun and heat. A sigh escapes your lips at the sensation. Fingertips trance the expanse of your skin, draw constellations between your moles and freckles. The other hand moves to rest on your breast. It kneads the soft flesh, gently pinches your nipple between its fingers, runs a thumb over it.
You inhale sharply, heart thrumming in your chest, pressing your thighs together. It does little to quell the desire for friction, or touch. The hand tracing its fingertips down your body reaches your hip, then skirts across your flesh to rest on the inside of your thigh. You blink languidly; the heat is stifling, your head feels thick.
Cool fingers dip between your legs, press against your clit like — like they’re what? Testing the waters. You stifle the half-baked moan in the back of your throat.
The hands leave you all at once and you croak out a sound that doesn’t even sound like you, desperate and needy. They’re back not even a moment later, though, heavy on your hips as if they’re trying to guide you. You reach for a pillow and prop it under yourself. It’s a nice dream, you don’t need it to end because it forces you into an uncomfortable position that drives home the realization that it’s a dream. Because then you’ll wake up, alone again.
Something thick and heavy rests on your pelvis. Maybe this makes you a bad sex partner in this brief dream but you don’t want to reach out and touch it, guide it. If it’s your dream, your partner should know the where and how. The cool hands planted firmly on your hips pull you forward just slightly and the weight from your pelvis disappears. It rests against your entrance, but doesn’t push forward just yet. One hand leaves you and the tip of its cock drags through your slick folds, bumps against your clit.
“Please,” you croak, staring at the ceiling. Your throat is dry.
The stranger’s cock angles itself against your entrance and pushes in carefully. You take a slow, deep breath in, try to relax around the pleasant intrusion. The hands — under your knees now, guiding your legs apart. A body presses against your thighs. Whoever it is, stops, pauses for a moment. You clench around the cock buried in your cunt. A cold, shuddering breath hits you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. The hands push your knees further apart until there’s an ache in your muscles, and then they depart, one finding a spot on your waist, the other your breast.
It moves, then. The cock nestled deep within you sharply pulls back and thrusts in again. You scramble for anchor, to grab onto something but all you come up with is sheet that tugs loose. Their pace is dizzying, thighs slapping against yours, cock plunging into your wet cunt. The sound is so wet and lewd and goddamned loud in the still silence of your home. You go to stifle the half-moan half-groan in your throat but— wait, it’s your house, your dream, who gives a fuck about the neighbors? The cock in your cunt pulls nearly all the way out and thrusts in again and hits that spot, so good, dragging against your slick walls and you swear you feel every groove and dip, every goddamn vein. Your moan slips out involuntarily, and whoever it is here with you, seems invigorated.
The hand on your breast leaves, a forearm rests around your thigh, pulling it up and — fuck, their cock drives in so incredibly deep you nearly choke on your own spit. You scramble upwards, resting your weight on your elbows to look at your partner —
There’s no one there. Your bedroom is empty. But there’s a hand on your torso, cool fingers digging into your flesh and a forearm supporting your thigh and the shape of someone’s shoulder against your Achilles’ tendon. There’s a cock plunging into your cunt and you hear someone’s labored breathing.
The full-length mirror skids across the laminated floor and stops in front of your bed. Something invisible is thrusting into your pussy, gaping back at you in the reflection. Your face burns — your whole body burns. You can’t look away from the debauchery staring back at you. Whoever — whatever — it is, thrusts harshly, cold hands pulling you against their body. Your thighs are wet and sticky, slamming against theirs, your hole gaping back at you, being abused by something you can’t see. It sends you hurtling over the edge.
You come around the phantom cock with something reminiscent of a shriek and a moan and terror and pleasure all combined. Your cunt clenches around the thing your muscles sore and sweat beading on your skin. The cock plunges into you again and again and again and you blink back the tears and the fear and the overwhelming pleasure. The fingers on your body dig into your flesh and the cock nestled in you buries deep, thighs pressing against your own, and spills. It’s so warm, so pleasant. The mirror skids closer, right until it touches the edge of the bed.
Your cunt is forced wide open. Stuffed. The pearlescent cum coats your walls, oozes out from inside you, dribbles onto your bedsheets. The cock in you stays there but the body moves.
A small fogged patch, like warm breath, appears on the mirror, and then, letters.
First of all, if you just want to engage with the movie on its own terms, that's valid! It is a self-contained story. This is just for people who want to know more about the characters but aren't sure where to start.
Lots of people have been putting together rec lists and reading lists in addition to all the ones that already existed, so I'm going to compile some of them here. Most people in comics fandom LOVE being asked for recommendations, and even if we don't know a character well, we often know someone else who does. And finally, don't worry about doing it wrong- comics are fun! Just pick up something that looks interesting to you and start reading!
Superman || Clark Kent
You will never be able to read every Superman comic unless you are a crazy person. Please do not try. Please just pick some standalone comics or jump in at story arcs that sound interesting.
A nice introduction to comics, particularly Superman comics, and some recommendations
Another good starter list
Lois Lane
Like the rest of Clark's supporting cast, she can be found in most Superman comics, but I wanted to highlight some Lois-centric storylines. (I personally really like Lois Lane: Enemy of the People by Greg Rucka, although I probably wouldn't suggest it as your first comic.)
Some good modern entry points plus some older foundational comics
Mr Terrific || Michael Holt
Mr Terrific in comics is mostly associated with the team known as the JSA or Justice Society of America. One of the definitive modern runs is JSA (1999) (which also includes Hawkgirl).
Basic introduction plus a reading list
Green Lantern || Guy Gardner
I am mostly a Justice League International fan, so if I start giving recs, Guy Gardner fans are going to come after me. But I do think Nathan Fillion managed to capture him perfectly (positive) and here are some recs from people who know more about him than me:
A somewhat comprehensive list
Where to start
Beginners guide to Guy Gardner
Hawkgirl || Kendra Saunders
There are multiple Hawkgirls and the one in Superman 2025 doesn't get explicitly named as far as I can tell, but from context and bts stuff I am reasonably sure that the film version is Kendra Saunders, or at least based most closely on her.
Best places to start
Complete reading guide
Metamorpho || Rex Mason
A strange and often somewhat reluctant hero, probably the best place to start would be Metamorpho: Year One (2007) or Metamorpho: The Element Man (2024).
Here's a rundown of his origins and a reading list
Supergirl || Kara Zor-El
If you were intrigued by her appearance at the very end, please check out Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, which is reportedly the comic DC is adapting for the Supergirl movie
Supergirl's history is long and complicated (more complicated than Superman's, for editorial reasons), but if you want to read more, here is a pretty complete guide
It’s so fascinating how Fionna flashes to the Winter King’s decayed face before she tries to kiss Hunter. Like, one would assume that a potential crush reminding her of the whole Winter King debacle will be something that will put her off kissing them. In both a “what if he’s so nice because he’s another insincere manipulative dickweed?" and in a "what if I mess it up again and hurt people?" manner. But instead the framing implies this was her incentive to trying to make out with Hunter.
I wonder if it was just… pure self-destructiveness. Kissing him because she already assumed this relationship is doomed and she wanted to enjoy it while she could, and/or hurry the inevitable end faster to get it over it.
Until she remembered that she won't just be hurting herself, but Hunter as well.
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Hey guys <3 I’m very excited to finally share a snippet of this project I’ve been working on for the last couple months uvu (which is also the reason you haven’t heard from me in a sec)
So 🪐Mightnight Burger🪐 is my favourite podcast (or audiodrama to be more specific) out there and I lost it when the makers of said podcast approached me and asked if I’d be interested in drawing their episode covers for the upcoming season :3 Boy did that make my year (and the next one)!
If you’re into character-focused sci-fi/comedy that punches you in the guts with how unexpectedly emotional it can get, then this one's for you. check it out on spotify or wherever you listen to your podcasts 😊
These are some character designs of Caspar and Ava that I drew a while back, the cover artwork will follow soon ☺️
I’ll post more details of my Libuza design later because I spent a Lot of time overthinking it, but it’s been so long since I’ve gotten anywhere near finishing a render I wanted to post this!!
avacaspar is insane because like. he pushed her off the edge of the parking lot into deep space. she calls him good boy and schmoopy. she tells him to stuff his apology up his ass. he wants to scream her achievements to the sky. she knows he has a birth mark/mole on the very back of his neck. they might sleep in the same booth. she never allows herself to be cared for except she asks him to keep bringing her pencils. he refuses to talk to her so the special people in the radio have to yodel at him four separate times to force him to do so. she's the first person he turns to when he's panicking about hearing things in his head. he crawls his way across three galaxies to find his way back to her and apologize to her. she tells him his plan about helping his estranged son is stupid as hell. she desperately doesn't want him to leave. he compares them to orpheus and eurydice. the most upsetting thing to her about being pushed into deep space is the fact that he didn't argue for her a little bit. he tells her he chooses her. he says they have a love language. she tells him she's glad he's here before they go into a black hole
what is it called when you've listened to too many audio drama podcasts and now cant remember exact details from any of them but they have stolen a part of you and now you've got a constant reminder within your own heart of how there is always something to reminisce and be fond about, even if memory fails you.
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