𝐇IGHWAY 𝐁LUE ( 𝐒 )

it only belatedly occurs to her that his question hadn’t been serious, which puts a soft frown over her mouth. was she really that fried? it didn’t mode well for a runner who needed her senses keen and her heart bitter for the job. swinging wildly between that frustration and her sense of relief at his arrival, she settles on something in the middle. at least for the time being she’s more distracted by his well of wisdom and endless quips to think of anything but the fact that he was taking advantage of her currently slumped state, knowing any attempts to swing a slap at his head would go poorly. predictably, his grin only gets wider and her eyes roll somehow further down their sockets.

           ❛ four hours of circle-jerking it with the seniors and you’re still down to stroke your own dick? do it away from me.  ❜ she pushes at him lightly, but it’s hardly all that she makes it out to be. his towel dubs the blood away, his head rests against her own, and in the span of those few seconds she closes her eyes and inhales steadily. relief was putting it lightly, so was gladness. if she could imprint something as mundane as the sound of his boots crossing the threshold, the plastic bags being set down, and his voice calling out to her—

here came the smack, right against his shoulder. ❛ for fuck’s sake, you never stop.  ❜ did it anyways even knowing it was a quarter of the impact he actually deserved. ❛ asshole!  ❜ between giving him a second one and his hands gently laying her back down after discarding his own jacket and suit, she feels his grin against her mouth. a kiss that turns her words into a muddle and a complaining groan. before long there’s a laugh somewhere in her stomach that she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing fully. her arms wrap around him and they reach a stalemate. each tease was only a confirmation of just how far she had let him crawl into her skin, and whose fault was that?

        talking a big game about banishing him to the floor of the living room while getting awfully comfy with him as did as much.   ❛ so i should brace myself because you're gonna kick me out at some point?   damn,   didn't realize this was an eviction notice.   ❜ doing the opposite of readying for the worse.   soothing her disdain with the insistence of his mouth,   he is more hesitant than he usually would be given the warmth still emitting from her chrome.   in an afterthought he remembers the groceries,   now abandoned by the door,   some items were perishable so eventually he would need to make his escape and put them away but doesn't have the willpower for that at the moment.   

        ❛ yeah well, last time i opened your fridge all you had in there was old takeout and beer so not exactly the whole food pyramid.  ❜ hardly a judgement call,   he had made enough missteps when alluding to her past knowing better than to ask directly but he had gathered with certainty that she hadn't grown up making meals for herself   (   or anyone for that matter   )   being fatherless for most of his adolescence and left in charge of max more often than not,   the opposite was true for him.   ❛ i made time,   'cuz i missed you too.   you're also a lot easier to deal with when you're not hungry so that's also a plus.  ❜ surely he was on his way to another elbow to the ribs so his arms snake around her for his own protection,  but the smooth skin beneath his fingers was not exactly unpleasant either.   

there’s a noise of refusal in her throat just as his cheek slips from her palm, as if she’d meant to dissuade, tell him no. he’s gone before she can prevent it. groans low and turns her face away as her chest rises and falls with each dragging breath. there was plenty of eddies to be made from this, it just happened to be so tertiary to her penchant for risk and desperation. so far into the feed, that she often found far more than what she had gone in to look for. maybe that was a side effect of knowing, nothing in this city could ever be as bad as what blackwall had taught her about death.

his recount of the day proves a useful distraction from the headache. when he comes back with a glass of water and a towel, she tries to swat away his attempts to dry her hair with a successful stroke of ire. ❛ pax...  ❜ dazedly, voice and names come to her, fingertips rubbing into the side of her temple. ❛ embezzlement, abuse of... ha.  ❜

slowly, she attempts to sit up against the bed, the smudge of blood under her nose dried and metallic. he’s grinning now, another brush of the towel going down the side of her neck. slowly, her hand cards down his wrist and curls around it. she takes stock of his eyes, his suit, that he was well and safe. ❛ no, doesn’t have your irritating nerve for it either. well, if you’re both done dick-waving for today, i—  ❜ he took his cue, pressing the glass of water incessantly to her lips, having her swallow the pill. feeling better than the heap of garbage she had been a moment before, she pulls up her knees and leans gingerly into his shoulder as the ache ebbs. ❛ let’s just... stay like this. there’s more— i can help with this, terry.  ❜

       ❛ hey,    hey,   whoa it was a rhetorical question,    deckhead.    your system's way too fried to be doing quick lookups right now.    " taking a corner of the towel and rubbing away at the blood above her lip.    shaking his head in disbelief,    bruce would admire her work ethic,    that's for sure.    except they both would be too thorny around one another to get anything done (  a deafening silence that terry would never let persist  )

       loosening the collar of his shirt,    if only because he knew he was going to be here for a while.    it might be time to start leaving a casual set of clothes in her closet so he didn't have to crash in a full suit at a moment's notice.    ❛ never done,    i have glowing endorsements in that department.   ❜ pressing his forehead against her own,    nudging her back gently which was as good as an accusation.    he wasn't about to try anything but his tone implies that he had done so in this exact same spot in the past and gotten away with it,    not only begrudgingly but with flying colors.    ❛ we can talk about that later,    you've already pushed it today.   ❜ far from an outright refusal but he has only brought up the day's events to get her mind off whatever search had taken her out of commission

well, this wasn’t good. she has a vague that she’s being carried off to safety, knight in shining armour to do the labour of love. she coughs somewhere shortly in her throat, feels the headache burgeoning with hammers down the back of her skull. it’s overheating, she knows this; her spine is a patchwork mess of arasaka’s finest brand of competition. when she’s in his arms though, a soft echo of a whine escapes, makes her turn her head into him for reprieve. the effect of the ice bath leaves her in a state of shock, too, the bodily sort; to overheat and yet be so cold induced the kind of numbness that took a while to leave.

         ❛ t... terry—  ❜ the digital wall shatters between them. he’s as real as the strain in her limbs when he touches her. the pixelated ceiling of her sphere disappears gradually, replaced by the dark of his eyes, the loveliness of his face coming into view. ashen, lucy reaches for him weakly. unaware or uncaring of the fact that she’s about as naked as the day she was unwillingly born, all with her temperature shot through the roof. ❛ head... hurts...  ❜

      not until she has been deposited gently onto the platform her bed nestled upon.   already she is chasing him as he attempts to reel back.   taking her hand into his own and placing his lips against the heel of her palm.   ❛ gonna unhand me so i can grab you some water and something for your head or what,   miss independent?   ❜ the inevitable protest cannot cease his stride as he makes a quick detour into the kitchen while grabbing a towel from the freshly clean but unfolded laundry.   ❛ they don't pay you enough eddies for this shit.   ❜ returning to her side in record time with a glass of water in tow and a slew of pills.   

🦇   * 𝐓ERRY 𝐌CGINNIS ,   . . .  [ nightcall by kavinsky.mp3 ]

            ▍ note: i primarily write terry in his post-tv show canon which means he is long out of high-school and well into studying biochemistry at neo-gotham state university, while balancing being bruce wayne's assistant. i borrow a lot of terry's characterization from the show and cherry pick from the comics, especially with content that is post-rebirth. i will not touch new 52 terry with a ten-foot pole and i don't mess the majority of the batman: beyond the white knight storyline outside of the decision to portray terry as half-japanese. ultimately, terry is made up of my personal head canons. i like to balance his iconic sarcastic humor with more mature narratives so that's just something to keep in mind when plotting with him. i also set the batman beyond timeline in the 2070s. being that the show came out in the 90s, so in order to keep neo-gotham a marvel of the future it makes more sense for terry's world to continue to be 30+ years ahead of present day to maintain distance from the current gotham we see in comics now.

∿  DOSSIER.

full name: terrence "terry" mcginnis / takashi ( japanese name given to him by his mother ) aliases / titles: the batman, batman beyond, neo-knight, errand boy ( derogatory ) age: 22 - 31 ( verse dependent )  birthplace / current residence: neo-gotham gender: cis male ( he / him ) sexuality: bisexual ethnicity: half-japanese, half-irish birthday: april 7th family: warren mcginnis ( father ), mari mcginnis ( mother ), matt mcginnis ( younger brother ) , bruce wayne ( biological father ) occupation: phd student ( pursuing a doctorate in biochemistry ), heir to wayne-powers corp, currently working as an executive assistant to bruce wayne, vigilante zodiac: aries sun, cancer moon, libra rising

∿ APPEARANCE.

hair: dark brown, or soft black in some lights eyes: light hazel height: 6'0” / 183 cm body type:  far lither than his predecessor, unlike bruce terry doesn't have years of bulking and training before donning the suit. in the beginning years, terry is still very much just a lanky teen in bat tech that is doing most of the heavy lifting for him. it's only after bruce cautions him about the adverse effects of using the suit in the long term that terry begins to commit more time to his personal fitness. he will never be as strong as batman was in his prime but terry does eventually fill out. even if his build is more akin to a street brawler's than that of a trained soldier. notable features: heavily scarred torso that hosts a litany of past wounds; most noticeable, near-miss bullet wounds and acid burns along his back that never fully healed. a pale white scar along his chin that has faded to a subtle indentation. a constantly slouching posture and in need of haircut almost always

𖤝 for terry mcginnis : growing closer, accepting.

eyes dusted two shades too dark from bruises, she leers and leers at ghosts and glitches; stomach a vacant pit, hasn’t eaten for what feels like a few hundred days. heart palpitations make her see two versions of him, handsome and painted black. a figment of her mind that, really, would have been be so inciting, but not today. she thinks if she opens her mouth now, she’ll blurt out more deepweb code and binary digits rather than human words. ❛ where you been? fuck.  ❜

shit— she’s been down under too long. he’s starting to catch on in real time, with the way he puts down the plastic bags full of groceries and moves towards her in a blur.

        especially when she begins to fall to pieces again having the batsuit working overtime as he kicks the system into overdrive to catch her before a nasty corner did.    ❛ what?    you don’t sleep now when i’m not around… ❜ judging by all the dead weight in his arms as swept he her off the floor that was the most likely story.    

he can't help the soft gasp that falls from his lips at her touch, her sharp nails and warm palms digging into the back of his neck as they pull him towards her. there's a perpetuity in his touch starved nature that craves more than he can ever get where Felicia was concerned. despite his already unprecedented access to her before, the gluttonous nature of this beast within him that yearns for their consistent proximity seems to return with a fury after having suppressed it all the while he'd been away. it only takes the press of her soft cheek as it nuzzles against the rough scruff along his jaw for Roy's composure to snap. ever the opportunist, the archer takes the chance to burrow in further against her, burying his nose in her hair to inhale the mesmerizing scent of perfume so expensive, one drop surely cost more than his whole life. It mingles with the perspiration clinging to her skin from a long night of dancing, alchemizing into something so singularly her that it made his heart ache just to perceive.

the nights had been long whenever he'd managed to drag himself home after clearing Star City's streets with Ollie, the silence deafening in a way that had only begun to startle him after filling the emptiness of his life with her laughter and whirlwind spirit. he'd missed watching her slink into his apartment after a wild night, the shift between her public persona and the real Felicia as palpable as her head in his lap and the twining of their voices as they talked about everything well into dusk, or simply passed out in a tangle of limbs. “ was the dj good at least ? sorry I couldn't be here earlier to break y'outta there sooner. ”

a hundred kisses met his mouth, as he coiled towards a shape more familiar out of the dark. yet it is a tiring effort, hindered by the palpable and breathless bliss. it echoed through him, blood and bone and sinew all alike. a nose turned towards her, eyes attuned to her heart beating, and even his mouth, watery from wanting something as uncomplicated in its desire as the taste of her. unafraid, she inspired this gentle frenzy in him without the reluctance that had once possessed her during the dance of death; here she is remade in her own songs and her own visage for colour, unbearably irresistible. what could compel those of the horn than the unbridled disorder of nature?

how he tires of the fae, their growing sense of structure, or their rather dull practice of etiquette. this— her naked body, clothes ripped apart, and his heart beneath the guillotine of her palm coming down over his own, was primacy.

as she speaks, her thoughts open and her voice warm against his shoulder, he listens with his hand carding along the length of her leg. she is sprawled perfectly over him, the cold in this carved out cave banished by heat. in a pile of sweat-slicked skin and a wanton daze, he holds her nearer to himself than his own organs. ❛  worse for whom? your enemies for certain. to me, to us, you could not be closer to heaven.  ❜ the grand dame’s of his society beseeched her daily to their blind-eyed prayers. they thought her aptly suited for the alderking, and him to her; but would that she could, they lamented at him, sprout spiralling horns from her head.

        ❛   i could do with a set of these though,   couldn't i?   ❜   her nails scraped along the hardened curvature that stood in place of a crown.   the queen of elfame herself often wore her hair in such a way where she could be mistake for one of the folk from a distance with her ornamental horns but lucy gray is no royal nor does she wish to muddy waters through an altering of her appearance.   ❛   but ain't it my charm to stick out like a sore thumb…makes me special,   makes me yours.   ❜   jesting,   as the addition of any sort of animalistic features would serve in making the gap between herself and his subjects lessen.   

        if anything she dithers in the in between.   not quite fae and not quite human anymore either as she has seen far too much to be considered so simple.   waltzing with danger too frequently to be considered a timid,   mild-mannered creature.   rewarded for her resolve with the invitation of claws which crawl down her spine in a delectable procession.   unable to keep a sigh from exhaling against his lips.   ❛   i wouldn't change a single hair or hoof of yours,   cariño.   but if you wanna be sweet for me don't expect me to stop you but don't think you gotta be sweet to me,   very different.   ❜   never seeking to render her lord docile,   his was a delicious sort of cruelty,   the kind that came only at her behest and she invites it with curving of her body pressing into crevices she shouldn’t.   

so use to losing in this playing field, it took her a moment to realise it had worked. she kept her megawatt grin from blinding alex on the spot and stifled it by pursing her lips. she spoke in small bursts, whispered now with the queasy crawl of desire in her stomach. ❛  oh yeah, i’m sure you did.  ❜  would it kill them to admit they might have come for her? possibly. their half-lidded portrait of inexpressive amusement was still a barrier to read through. that was coming from a siren, who had to survive celebrity city by reading people as part of business. a laugh fumbles out of her. she hadn’t been expecting it, but it brings her private life stuttering into view; books that were becoming decor during busy tour months, hot & cheesy romance novels that kept her company when the room got too lonely. she felt her face flare more, a hand swatting the merc’s shoulder. not like that, she was saying, but in truth: it was quite like that.

she also wasn’t going to explain or defend the controversial discourse around some of the fantasies she had been entertaining, courtesy of one equally controversial merc in her sphere...

         ❛  shut up. ❜ another swat, though they had a tendency to wind up closer with each attempt to push apart. she was against them now, arms around their neck & their hand, not to stealthily sneaking up her skirt. ❛  they’ve got plot, okay— and you have no idea what they even mean, do you. hot books. come on, alex.  ❜ she noticed it keenly, felt it keenly, saw the awareness of it reflected in her eyes by what she saw in theirs. her breath spent itself slowly, knee bending to caress the line of their pant leg. things were progressing faster than she could quip back at them, but it doesn’t stop her lidded stare from weighing so heavily on each little flick of change in their face.

she feels flustered being read back, the flare in her stomach reaching her throat, but she doesn’t buck away. ❛  mhmm. maybe. after all this... aren’t you?  ❜ there’s also not enough time to overthink it. tripped for less? soft, or easy? she wavers briefly but it’s rectified by the warm press of a mouth on hers. a tongue slides against her own and she meets it with the gradual rise of her chest, breath expelling sweetly and a soft noise courtesy of the hand grabbing a lot more of her than just her skirt. she feels herself smirk against the kiss, dangling like dew in more ways than one, & sighs happily when their lips part. ❛  oh, that’s real chivalrous. come here.  ❜ her head is slow to nod, licking at her own bottom lip for the taste of them; then she pulls close again, hair tucked away by their fingers, and kisses them fleetingly while pulling on the collar of alex’s shirt.

        maybe their mouth is more foul than usual because they have to keep the past from catching up         with their tongue.   saved by the operator when the houselights come up dispelling all the remaining phantoms with stark white.   ❛ you sayin' i'm illiterate? way harsh,   sugar plum.   i think i got a good gist of the subject matter.   ❜ slipping back into easily,   it helps that their hands are already on her.   she is nothing like helly in this regard,   soft where the former athlete had been lean muscle and then bone once she started using.   this is better,   this was better.   she needed this or she would go home a drink herself stupid   (   or do something worse,   way worse   )   kissing her isn't a choice it is the only conclusion for this night,   to make her real,   some fucked up kind of proof of life for alex's sake.   chalking it up to selfishness is the only way to dance around the truth.   

        ❛ oh,   i'm a real prince charming just you wait.   ❜ and there it was the incalculable rightness of her hand in her own as she is dragged down the stairs into the quieter interior of the venue.   ducking into the only lit room down the corridor.   a unicorn seemed to have thrown up all over the premises,;  sequined tank tops and rainbow studded belts hung off of every free surface.   that's about as far as their investigation gets once the door is closed and they are subsequently cornered against it.   an entrapment she hardly stays in for long once the skin starts showing,   not that there had been much left to imagination to begin with but she is too near now to ignore.   ❛ i don't know,   can you? ❜ they never find out,   they never give her the chance to try before dragging her up by the thighs and hoisting her onto the vanity.