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Who need Nightwing? Bludhaven have a better hero now: FLAME BIRD!
I've decided that I love all my DC OCs equally, but I love Flame's design the most, so she'll be posted
Nightwing has thats acrobatic style and such, which he incorporates into the fight. I decided that she would dance hip hop and her style would reflect that, with elements of parkour as well
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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“MAMA, I’M SO SCARED… WERE YOU EVER LIKE THIS— ONCE YOU WENT OUT ON THE EDGE?” 1.1k. sfw. shapeshifter!reader.
IT’S TOO MUCH. it’s all too much. triple m’s pushing you to the brink and you don’t know whether to scream or crumble beneath the pressure of it all.
a week-long press junket, and multiple photoshoot sessions for this next campaign— shoes, fucking heels of all things— all while holding whatever shift was needed to get the job done. b-cups went to cs, or was it your hair reaching your waist and not your shoulders? you can’t remember. all you know is that with one camera flash you were standing, and in the next you were on the ground with a bloody nose and dizziness so bad you couldn’t even see.
with bloodied tissues piling up all around you, everything on the counter is fuzzy, blob-shaped and sanguine-colored… and your reflections’s not much better. you can’t remember what you’re supposed to look like. what you look like at all.
it’s all a blur. you feel your face shuffling around like someone piecing together magazine clippings for a collage; only, it’s your face and not some moodboard being put together on pinterest. it takes another round of deep breaths to get your brain to settle on features that look similar to yours. close enough.
a knock sounds at the door. you go stiff, your fingers digging into the bowl of the sink. “you good in there, hon?”
your manager’s fielding off the concerned photographer and crew while you hide in the bathroom, though you can barely hear her through the buzzing in your head.
“mhm… m’fine.” you’re not. “b-be out in a sec.”
taking another deep breath, you let your shoulders relax as you let go of the shift. the blouse you’re wearing sags around your chest as it shrinks back to its normal size, and you can feel the matching skirt tighten around your hips. a strangled breath leaves your lips, but it’s one of relief nonetheless.
“amanda?” you stagger across the cold bathroom tile— you’d kicked the heels off ages ago— and press yourself against the wood with a heavy thud. “amanda… i need m-my phone.”
“hon—”
“please.” you don’t like begging, whether it’s for your damn phone or for anything, really. you’ve gotten this far without a handout or without relying on anyone else to help. “… i just need a few minutes.”
amanda sighs from the other end of the door, but you can hear her fishing around in your bag for the device. when she knocks, you crack the door just enough to take it before shutting it again.
your fingers tremble while you scroll through your contacts, but it’s a quickly scroll to find your mother amongst the many names.
she answers on the first ring. she always does. “baby?”
“mom,” you whimper, shuddering as you squeeze your eyes shut, “… mama.”
“what’s wrong?” the sink on the other end of the line shuts off. you’ve probably caught her in the middle of making dinner. there’s some more rustling in your ear, but soon enough your mother’s voice in your native tongue rumbles back in the receiver. “you’re scaring me.”
squeezing your eyes shut, you lean back against the bathroom counter as you swallow the anxiety— and bile— in your throat. “i don’t know i-if i can do this,” you admit, and it tastes sour on your tongue. “it’s too much, i don’t know what i got myself into.”
“can’t you just leave?” a pause. “your friend would understand, baby.”
no, you can’t, and no, he wouldn’t. lex luthor got you the gig this time, and you’re not willing to risk the fallout— socially, career-wise, etc.— because you habitually bite off more than you can chew. he promised you proper exposure, a proper modeling career, and you believed him.
why did you? there were rumors, whispers of girls connected to the billionaire going missing with no explanation. some said they’d tried taking advantage of his influence. others said they’d been naive enough to think they were the apples of his eye. men like luthor didn’t promise the world without there being conditions; that’s what kept people in line.
you should’ve known better. but at least you know now. “i don’t know if he… he would. this might be bigger than what i want, mama.”
the tension over the phone is palpable. you shift against the bathroom counter while thumbing the fabric of your ill-fitting blouse, waiting for some kind of sign that everything’s going to be okay. you can hear amanda and everyone else huddled around the bathroom door, but no one makes any moves to come in. “hon… we gotta continue the shoot,” she sighs, and you know she’s got that exasperated look on her face— the one that surfaces whenever she’s balancing three phone calls simultaneously or appeasing her other model clients.
“… you can always take a break after this,” your mother says quickly, as if knowing your time is limited, “come home. your father and i, we miss you... i don’t like you being alone in metropolis. you don’t have support out there, baby.”
she’s right about that. lex may claim to care about your well-being… but for how much longer? and it’s not like you could call clark; the man already had enough to juggle with his own deadlines. you don’t know whether being “alone” in metropolis is worse than going back to looking over your shoulder in gotham… but you’re certain that neither option is sustainable long-term.
“please, come home.”
inhaling shakily, you force yourself back into your shift from earlier and ignore how your vision goes spotty again. luckily, you don’t fall again. “i have to go.”
“okay.” the phone shuffles in your mother’s grip again. “but think about it, alright? you can always come home.”
home. you can always come home, but how you’ll get there is the real question.
“i-i know.” you shudder again before holding yourself upright and rolling your shoulders. “i love you, mama.”
“i love you too.”
the line clicks once, twice as you pull it away from your ear, your hands shaking while you clutch the counter for support. the thought of camera flashing in your eyes for the next hour makes your stomach roll, but you have to get through this.
it’s just one more shoot, you keep telling yourself. one more shoot and things will ease up, your schedule will clear, and you can focus on being you instead of whatever the suits want.
but the suits are paying you to be a model right now— not yourself— so you stagger back into the fray and hope it all won’t come crumbling down right now. tonight when you’re alone in metropolis? fine.
but not now.
just some introspection/more info on my favourite daughter girl… still currently sans laptop so forgive me for any typos lol. still need to do fleshed-out pieces for bruce + lex with shapeshifter!reader but obviously i alluded to some of those dynamics in this. lex luthor is bad news/clark kent is good news/bruce wayne is a happy medium for her. also sorry if tags are weird i didn’t know how to tag appropriately bc it’s not really an x reader but yanno— i needed to do something creative i am going stir crazy!!!!!!
taglist! @jclolz22 @luckygold13 @scariffs @nozhdyved @elliesmagic8 @floristicgrave @dumbbandpoetic @coochiemama3000 @gelotime @pedaltothepetal click here to be added!
