#delightfullydifferentobject

Just because she was here on a mission didn’t mean she couldn’t stop and enjoy a night off. Laurel was getting bored with just going after Team Arrow all the time, she had been doing this since she had arrived on this Earth. Maybe not Arrow but Flash was just as boring. Tonight she planned on getting wasted and living like she wasn’t a meta-human on the run from both the cops and vigilantes alike. Almost like she was back on her own Earth.

@delightfullydifferentobject || positivity for october <3 let’s be spooky supportive <3

Vampire: Tag someone of whom you've been a longtime fan.

@ofanescapist || angst king and writes a lovely michael. can’t say enough good things about this bae. runs a lovely set of several blogs, and so talented. like art that blows my mind.

Dragon: Tag someone who you see as really dedicated to their muse.

@friendoftheood || omg, like i can’t say enough for this roooooose! she is so quality and you can see how much liv like adores her muse. i dunno how many icons she has for her, but its too many ( tm ), but i love that such a lovely part of the DW fandom pops up on my dash and hangs out with my sara. its an honor, cuz you’re a freaking gem.

Phoenix: Tag someone who is a bright light on your dash.

Moonlight dances off the surface of the water as she lowers herself to sit beside him. The marina is quiet this late at night, capable of providing solace to even the most chaotic of beings. Dorothy can’t ascertain what’s come over her in the time she’s known him, but her confidence in herself has grown exponentially. So much so she’s spent the last couple of months blatantly flirting with the older male who likely wants nothing to do with a young woman such as herself. She’s legal, not twenty-one, yet, and they have enough in common to be interested in one another, she assumes. He’s so surly, though. Stoic, with barely a hint of a smile gracing his features lest she does something incredibly embarrassing. While her confidence grows, her boldness does, too and while she used to be much more conservative in her outfit choices, her clothing has morphed with her personality. 

Delilah was used to walking around the house in not much clothing. Her mother kept the house very warm - an attempt to “conserve energy” - so Delilah was constantly hot. She did tone it down a bit when other people were in the house, but often times people would just show up. For example, how was she to know that her brother’s best friend was sitting on the couch in the living room when she had come downstairs to get a bottle of water? Especially when her brother wasn’t even home. “Oh!” She’d exclaimed in surprise when she’d seen him sitting there, her hands reaching up to gently tug at the crop top she wore. Not that she was ashamed of her body in the least. “Dylan’s not here, you know,” she told him, leaning against the doorframe. @delightfullydifferentobject 

@delightfullydifferentobject

It seemed like Stella would never leave, and Arielle wasn’t even sure why she was there. She was just like Arielle remembered her - yelling at the top of her lungs, blaming Arielle for everything that was wrong in the world. Frankly, Arielle had stopped listening a long time ago, and now she just wanted her OUT. Gone. Never to be seen from again. Preferably soon too. So when her new next door neighbour walked through the doors (probably to see what was going on), Arielle acted on impulse. “Hey honey, you’re home!” she said, her voice gleeful. She shot the man a warm smile before closing the distance between them and pulling him into a long kiss, her hand placed at the small of his back and slowly moving downwards. Maybe that would make Stella shut up. Which would be a first.

Bruce was already out on patrol, getting a call as he was midway through putting an end to one of Riddlers latest games. “S this really isn’t the best…” He always referred to her as S if he was taking her call while he was on patrol, didn’t want to say her name aloud while working. The moment he heard the tone of her voice though his priorities immediately changed. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Has someone hurt you?” His questions were quick and it was clear his concern for her was great,so much so that he hadn’t even noticed how hard his grip around the throat of Riddler had become, knocking the question mark wearing freak out in an instant. “I’m on my way.” He replied before hanging up the call, tying up Riddler and his goons and he was off.

He rushed through the rooftops of Gotham city towards Selina’s apartment, dodging the satellite dishes, clothing lines, ventilation shafts and all the other litter atop the buildings. He moved with focus and purpose, the only thing that mattered was getting to Selina’s place. Soon enough he was there, climbing in through one of her windows, the window that led to her living room area. “Selina? Where are you?” He called out, the slight fear in his voice was evident. He found her in the bedroom and let out a sigh as he didn’t see any wounds, but saw the tears as clear as day. “Hey… What’s wrong?” He asked gently as he moved into the room, removing his mask as he did.  

It wasn’t apart of any P L A N of Selina’s. It would N E V E R even crossed her mind. At least not seriously. Sure, she had fantasized about having that kind of life with Bruce, but they were both so embedded in their lives in Gotham. It wasn’t S A F E to bring up children in that pit of C R I M E. She’d given up major thievery a while back, often staging small, low-scale heists just to get Bruce’s attention, after a fight. But for the most part, Selina stuck to assisting when she could, but ultimately settled on a J O B. She worked at the downtown gallery, curating--one of her D R E A M S. 

Babies were not a part of any dream that involved living in Gotham.

Selina shot up from her spot and launched herself at him, the sobs returning in greater S T R E N G T H. Wrapping her arms around him, she burrowed her face against his neck (well, what she could--that armor was T O U G H) and wept. “You’re going to H A T E me. I mean, I don’t care--but obviously I do. I mean--it’s my F A U L T. It has to be. I...I...I must’ve forgotten a pill or something or maybe this is just a C R U E L joke but holy shit we have a problem and I don’t know how to make it B E T T E R.” Tears fell freely from her cheeks, and she glanced over at the clock. F U C K. 7:59 quickly ticked to 8:00 and she dropped from her grasp on Bruce. With bare feet slapping the ground of her apartment, she thrust her head into the toilet in her bathroom and spewed chicken noodle soup and ginger-ale, sputtering and coughing the whole time.

“What?” she breathed, turning her back on him to keep her wits about. Diana hadn’t considered what the heat of his breath on her skin could do and so maybe it had been a judgement call.