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#life is just. it’s rough.
skoulsons · 6 months
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ionomycin · 8 months
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Welcome home
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luxaofhesperides · 3 months
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Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!
For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.
It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.
But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 
His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 
He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.
And then it went nearly colorless. 
Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 
Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 
Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.
A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 
“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 
Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 
“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.
The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 
Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 
“Morning,” Duke offers.
“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”
“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”
“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”
Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”
“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”
Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”
“I’ll drive, too.”
“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”
Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”
“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”
“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”
Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”
Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 
The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 
The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 
Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 
“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”
“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”
“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”
The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 
“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 
It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.
Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  
He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 
He gets the Vietnamese Plate.
Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 
The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 
Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”
“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”
As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”
She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 
Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 
Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.
But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.
The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 
She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 
As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 
“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”
“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”
“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 
He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 
As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 
Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”
“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 
“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”
“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”
“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.
Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 
Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 
“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.
Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”
“Oh, yikes.”
“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”
“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.
He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 
“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”
Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”
“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”
“What does this do?”
“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”
“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 
Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”
She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 
By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.
Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.
“Duke?”
It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 
It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 
This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 
He won’t let anyone take it from him. 
“Duke. Give that to me.”
He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 
“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 
Bruce reaches a hand out. 
He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 
“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.
“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”
“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”
Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.
Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.
Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 
The orb in his hand moves. 
Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.
It’s his soulmark. 
Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 
One moment, the orb was still.
The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 
Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 
“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 
“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 
“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.
“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 
“Are you alright?”
Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”
Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 
If anyone can, it’s Batman. 
If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 
Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.
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fifthnailinstevesbat · 2 months
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steve “cant get out of bed till middle of the day, barely leaves his house or is never home, isolating himself from everyone, never takes time for himself anymore, depressed and is slowly losing more and more of himself every single day” harrington post 1986’
robin “i know you loved her, and it must’ve killed that she wouldn’t take you back, but nancy is happy steve and she still loves you. she’s not the only one out there for you, and you’ve gotta get over it. we miss you” buckley post 1986’, trying to help her best friend
steve “…this isn’t about nancy” harrington.
robin “wha-?… oh. oh steve.” buckley.
he still wears the vest.
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chubsette · 2 months
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bixels · 2 months
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Messy Trixie Charleston dance roughs.
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yurischolar · 4 months
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as a black dungeon meshi fan, it's really interesting to me how quickly some reactors immediately take marcille's side in the argument against the orc chief. like i understand why, considering the way we meet them, but it feels so highly intentional. like cheering on marcille for standing up against the orc chief "because the orcs probably started it in the first place!" but ignoring how quickly chilchuck and laios balk once it's brought up? that wasn't fear of their captors, that was very blatantly guilt.
even when marcille, an elf (a proud people, according to world building and general dnd consensus), talks back, she says "I remember your people doing your fair share of killing too". not "first", "too". if the orcs started it, im POSITIVE she would have said as much then. And I can't really blame the reactors because most of them are anime-onlys, so they don't know the reputation elves have in canon, but its just wild to me, considering all thats going on rn and frankly historically, to see a very blatant racial allegory and immediately side with the fair skinned blonde woman without even pausing to consider why the orcs are in this position. even AFTER they've explained that theyre desperate and being pushed to the edge.
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loktauri · 11 months
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Happy anniversary to poetry
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itsalrightmeow · 1 month
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Happy 20th Anniversary!
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anemonet · 1 year
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stream intros
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lunarcrown · 7 months
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Number 10: fursona~~ featuring red king ren diggity DOG!!
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luxaofhesperides · 2 months
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I'm not sure if you're still taking Ghostlights requests, but if you are: Dick asking Duke to take Haley to the dog park for him in order to set up a meet-cute for him with the guy with the weird green rottweiler
And if you aren't, just know that you're doing great and I appreciate the hell out of you
“Oh, shoot!” 
Hearing Dick rush around as a frantic mess is not uncommon while he’s in Gotham. There’s too many people wanting to spend time with him that he ends up pulled in a bunch of different directions. Dick’s always in a rush, always busy, always making time for people because he has more love than Duke has ever seen in a person.
Dick’s also got pretty good time management skills after years of doing this. He’s only cutting out a few minutes early for their designated three hour catch-up session. 
That doesn’t mean he’s going to do it gracefully, though.
“Almost lost track of the time!” he says, moving to the couch to pick up his jacket. “Hey, Duke, can do you me a favor while I’m out?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Can you take Haley to the dog park? I usually take her twice a week around this time, but I totally forgot to include that in my calendar this week so I’ve got plans with the Titans just outside the city, and no time to take her out.”
“Yeah, man, of course I can take her to the dog park. The one attached to Robinson Park, right?”
Dick nods, shoving his shoes onto his feet. “That’s the one! Her treats are also in the bag hanging next to her leash. Oh, and she has a friend at the dog park! Don’t be scared when you see him, he’s just green.”
“Oh…kay?”
“Great, thanks! Bye, Duke, I’ll see you later!”
And with that, Dick is gone, closing the door to his safehouse as he dashes into the hall. 
Duke is left alone in Dick’s Gotham safehouse, blinking dazedly at the empty space where he once was. He’s certainly a whirlwind of activity when he realizes he’s going to be late. He’s also skilled in just saying things and leaving before any questions can be answered.
Haly jumps up onto the couch next to Duke. They share a look, then Duke shakes his head. “You have to deal with that every day, huh?”
Haly, the good girl that she is, doesn’t say anything bad against her owner and just puts a paw on Duke’s thigh, her tail wagging. 
“I hear ya, girl. Let’s go to the dog park to meet your green friend,  I guess.”
He has no idea what that means, honestly. Is Dick just talking about a dog that got its fur dyed green? Or is Haly’s friend like… a mutant dog? 
Well, he’s not going to find out by stalling. 
Duke pets Haly, then stands up and walks to the door. Her head perks up as soon as she hears the jangle of her leash being moved, and then she’s running to the door, looking up at him expectantly. Smiling, Duke slips the harness onto her, then attached it to the leash. He gives her another quick pet before shoving on his shoes and grabbing her bag of treats and waste disposal bags. 
He double checks that he has his phone, then takes hold of Dick’s spare safehouse key and steps out into the hallway with Haly. She waits patiently as he locks the door, checks that the lock holds, then runs down the hallway, ripping the leash right out of his hands.
“Haly! Wait! Stop, girl!”
She happily ignores him and goes straight for the elevator, leaving him to run after her and quickly scoop up the leash as soon as he’s close enough.
“Of course you’re a little escape artists,” he says to her, “Just like your owner.”
Haly woofs softly, then stands up and scratches at the doors of the elevator. Shaking his head, amused, Duke pushes the button to call the elevator and wonders if Dick has to deal with this every time they go to the dog park. 
On one hand, it wouldn’t surprise him since Dick is absolutely the kind of guy to give in to his dog’s every whims and spoil her rotten. On the other hand, Duke fully believes that Haly is smart enough and cute enough to misbehave only when Dick isn’t around so he never believes people when they try to tell him about all the mischief she’s caused. 
Dogs and their owners really do reflect one another. The internet was right about that.
Duke makes sure to keep a tight grip on Haly’s leash once they leave the apartment building. The streets are busy, as they tend to be on weekends, and the sight of Haly straining against her leash, ready to run, brings a smile to more than one face. 
He plots the route to the dog park in his mind, then starts up a light jog, tugging lightly on the leash to prompt Haly to follow him. 
It’s nice to run just for the sake of it. Haly makes a good running partner as well. 
How long has it been since Duke had time to relax and not be prepared for the worst? All the running he usually does these days is to catch up with criminals or run for his life. Being out during the day, moving through the city, without any lives in danger? Genuinely nice and relaxing. 
Maybe he can offer to take Haly to the dog park from now on. Join Dick whenever he goes. Create a set few hours where he doesn’t do anything but enjoy being outside in one of the few places where the smog of pollution and chemical toxins isn’t so thick in the air. 
He’ll just have to make sure Dick doesn’t agree to something else during those days. It’s still strange to think that Dick could forget to do something involving Haly when he’s such a good dog owner and a pro at juggling various responsibilities and a busy schedule. 
Well, they all have off days. This must be one of Dick’s.
The sidewalks get wider once they reach the street that leads to the park. Families fill up the space, walking with strollers in front of them or lined up at a food cart. The vivid green of spring fills the grassy fields that lead to the large patches of trees, marking the edge of Poison Ivy’s territory. Clovers decorate the ground, bees moving from flower to flower. 
There are other dogs on walks as well, making circuits around the park or running after toys. Duke spots a cat in a walking harness as well and wonders if he can convince Damian to get one for Alfred the cat. 
The dog park is on the other end of the park, as far away from Ivy’s territory as possible. The fenced off areas are separated into big dogs and small dogs, with a helpful guide as to which dogs go where posted at the entrance. 
Duke slows to a walk, breathing deeply to help settle his heart rate back down to something normal. Haly walks by his side, tail wagging, as she watches the other dogs run back and forth behind the fence. 
She’s still small, just growing out of puppy size, so Duke leads her into the small dog area, carefully making sure the gate doesn’t open enough for any quick dogs to make a break for it. He walks over to a bench and sits down before undoing the harness on her, setting her loose. 
Haly licks his hand once, then darts away, barking lightly as she joins the other dogs tumbling around each other. 
Amused, Duke leans back at watches as the other dogs sniff her, then do their funny little bowing stomps, moving back and forth before running off so she can give chase. 
He figures staying for an hour will be good enough. That should get the most of her energy out, and then they can make the long trek back to Dick’s safehouse so he can pick her up before he heads back to Bludhaven. Pulling out his phone, Duke settles in to wait, keeping half his attention on Haly just in case any of the other dogs decide to get a little too rough.
The first twenty minutes pass peacefully. Haly runs around and the owners of the other dogs give her pets when she runs up to them. One even went over to Duke to offer him a pack of fruit gummies. 
Then a loud bark fills the air and Duke jerks upright, watching with wide eyes as a colossally large dog, green and glowing and slightly transparent, comes barrelling down the street, headed right towards them. 
He doesn’t have time to yell Haly’s name before the dog is in the fence. None of the other dog owners look alarmed, though, so he watches carefully, prepared to jump up and save Haly at a moment’s notice.
“Cujo!” someone yells from down the street. A guy with dark hair comes running up and smoothly jumps over the fence. “Cujo, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off like that?”
The green dog, apparently Cujo, barks happily.
“And you’re too big for this park right now, buddy. Shrink, boy. It’s time to be small.”
And then Cujo… obeys? The dog shrinks, and instead of being the size of a bus, it’s now small enough to be carried in someone’s arms. 
Green dog is not enough warning for all of that. Dick owes him so much for this.
Actually, he’s kind of shocked that Dick never mentioned this to anyone. Surely a giant green dog would get people’s attention. Why is this the first time he’s heard about it?
“You new around here?” someone asks, and Duke turns to see the person who gave him the fruit gummies.
“Kinda? It’s my first time coming to the dog park. I’m looking after Haly, that one right over there.” He points out Haly, who is running in circles around Cujo.
“Ah, I see. Dick mentioned someone new would be coming today.”
Duke narrows his eyes. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s been set up for something, but he’s not sure what. 
“I’ll give you the spiel we tell all newcomers, in that case,” they continue. “Cujo is a ghost dog. Poor thing died during some animal testing, far as we know. Danny looks after him, since Cujo got attached to the kid years ago before he moved to Gotham. He’s a kind one, but very nervous, and we’ve all got an agreement to keep quiet about him and Cujo round this parts. You better be holding your tongue, as well, ya hear me?”
“Sure thing,” Duke nods. “My lips are sealed.”
He’ll just ask Dick about the ghost dog situation and do his own investigation if needed. But Cujo is just a dog, and his owner is just a guy. Nothing threatening, nothing requiring a Bat’s attention.
“Good,” they nod. “I’ll get out of your hair now.” They’re gone before Duke can reply, adjusting the hat on their head as they head back to their group in the back left corner of the dog park. 
Satisfied that things are under control, Duke relaxes back into the bench, watching Haly and Cujo tumble around with the other dogs, barking happily. Haly’s still growing into her paws, so she trips and falls often, but gets up without a moments pause, ready to keep playing.
From the corner of his eyes, Duke catches sight of someone walking towards him. 
He looks over and finds Cujo’s owner—Danny, wasn’t it?—approaching. Their eyes meet, and Danny offers him a sheepish smile and a wave. His eyes are a dark blue that seem to glow with some otherworldly light, and Duke can swear he sees something shifting around him, as if the air has turned visible and twists around his body like wisps of smoke. 
“Mind if I sit with you?” Danny asks, and Duke moves to the side a bit.
“Go ahead,” he says.
“You’re Duke, right? Dick told me about you last week.”
It’s looking more and more like Dick is up to something, and Duke will need to get his revenge. “Did he? All good things, I hope.”
“Aha, yeah, all good things. Um, actually I think I should apologize? I maybe said you sounded like my type so Dick promised that he’d get you here somehow. Sorry if this is messing up your plans for the day.”
Oh. Oh! 
Well. That’s interesting. 
Duke quietly shelves his plans for revenge against Dick and takes a proper look at Danny. He’s shy, but with a bright smile, glowing eyes and strange smoke curling around him still, and messy black hair windswept from chasing after Cujo. There’s a flush in his cheeks and his long fingers fiddle with the string of his dark red hoodie. 
“Don’t worry, I didn’t have any plans today. This is way better than just sleeping all day.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Danny laughs, “There’s nothing I like more than being able to sleep all day. That would fix me for sure.”
There’s a loud bark, and Danny’s eyes snap back to Cujo, who is growing bigger. “Cujo!” Danny yells, voice sharp. “Shrink down, or we go home.”
Cujo grumbles, whines, then goes back to being little. The green dog only has a moment to look sad before Haly is tackling him, sending them back into another chase around the park. 
“Sorry about that,” Danny says, slouching against the bench. 
“It’s all good,” Duke replies. “So. I’m your type, huh?”
Danny’s cheeks turn a deep, charming red. He looks away, then nods and ducks his head down. 
“And that hasn’t changed after meeting me?”
Danny shakes his head, then peeks over at Duke, gaze slowly moving up his body until he meets Duke’s eyes. “Definitely hasn’t changed,” he says.
Now it’s Duke’s turn to feel his cheeks burn, flustered and pleasantly surprised by Danny’s boldness. It doesn’t help that Danny is cute, someone he can see himself falling for. 
“Good,” he says, then knocks his knee against Danny’s. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more. On one condition.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“Tell me what Dick told you about me. I wanna make sure he wasn’t sharing an embarrassing stories about me. If I’m gonna make a fool of myself, then I’ll do it myself with no outside help.”
Danny’s laugh is bright and warm and sends butterflies dancing in Duke’s stomach. “Fair enough!” he says. “And you know what? I’ll trade you for embarrassing stories. Trust me, I have so many. Nothing you’ve done can be worse that the dumb shit I do on a regular basis.”
“Woah, woah, woah, confident, aren’t we? Don’t say that until you’ve heard about some of the stupid situation I choose to throw myself into.”
“Please, I’m an younger brother. If anyone knows how to be stupid, it’s me.”
“I’m part of the disaster that is the Wayne family. I think that has you beat.”
“My parents are mad scientists and my dog is a ghost. Try again.” The teasing smile on Danny’s lips makes him want to be reckless, to keep pushing, to go down this path as far as he can.  Duke can’t remember the last time he clicked with someone so instantly, to be so comfortable with them so soon. 
Damn. He’s gonna have to thank Dick for this, isn’t he?
As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Duke pulls it out with an apologetic smile to Danny, who leans back a bit to give him some privacy.
The text that pops up is from Dick. It’s a photo of him and Danny from the side, heads bent close together as they talk with bright smiles. He can just make out the wild red curls of Kori’s hair. 
“I’m gonna put jello in his socks,” Duke says cheerfully, already looking around to find where Dick is hiding. 
He probably already moved locations, the ass. 
“What’s up?” 
He holds out his phone so Danny can see the screen. Danny stares at it, then looks around, then stares at the screen again. 
“...Is he watching us?”
“Yep.”
“...Should we do something about it?”
Duke shrugs. “I mean, I’m up for hunting him down and tackling him if you are.”
“I can do you one better,” Danny says with a sharp grin. He whistles, and Cujo comes running over, Haly at his heels, and he skids to a stop to sit before Danny. “Cujo. You remember Dick?” Cujo barks, as if answering. “Fetch! Go fetch Dick!”
Cujo jumps to his feet, grows from the size of a pug to a bear, and takes off for the art instillation farther into Robinson Park. Moments later, they hear a yell followed by loud laughter, and Cujo and running back, Dick hanging from his mouth, with Kori, Donna, and Roy following after him at a leisurely stroll. 
“I think we’re gonna get along great,” Duke says. “He’s gonna wish he never set us up.”
“That’s the way to do it,” Danny agrees.
“Say, wanna grab lunch together tomorrow?”
Danny blinks, then blushes again. “What, like a date?”
“Yeah, as a date. You up for it?”
“How could I say no? I was promised embarrassing stories.”
He watches as Cujo drops a rumpled looking Dick to the ground, half his shirt soaked with saliva. He dramatically mimes being shot in the heart when he sees them both looking at him, and goes limp when Kori picks him up and tries to set him on his feet. 
Then he tries to act very calm and cool as Danny leans against him. “Think he’s gonna follow up on our date?” Danny asks in a low voice.
Duke closes his eyes and tries not to despair. He didn’t even think of that. “Worse. He’s going to tell everyone else, then we’ll have every available Wayne kid stalking us on our date.”
“Guess I’ll have to rely on you to chase them off, huh?”
“Or we can sic Cujo on them again.”
“Or that,” Danny nods. “It’s always effective.”
He’s really going to have to bring his best to the date tomorrow, just to stay a step ahead of everyone else. Maybe he’ll ask Barbara for a favor and get her to lead them off? And if Bruce gets involved, then Duke is fully prepared to flashbang him, grab Danny, and run. 
It’s going to be a disaster.
It’s going to be fun.
He’s already looking forward to it, and from the mischievous smile on Danny’s face, he’s not the only one.
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batri-jopa · 1 year
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I love myself looking sexy for the sheer pleasure of it
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nikoisme · 3 months
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so i'm trying to figure out a design for hermes and,,
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I'm genuinely obsessed with this style. You don't understand my notebooks are filled with silly guys like this.
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ink-the-artist · 2 months
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forgive me if you've been asked this before or if its annoying, but how did you learn to use colored pencils like that? your art is so special to me.
ty :) I took an art class for a few years where our teacher had us buy prismacolor pencils as one of the art supplies and had us use them kinda like paints, pressing down hard right away and blending the colors together. its not how youre supposed to use them she was just trying to teach us to use color and ig this was more to the point. I picked them up again years after i stopped going to that class just bc they were there and i wanted to play around w them a bit and ended up actually enjoying it when doing it on my own terms lol
#it was a weird class#it was just this russian lady doing private lessons in her house that my mom learned about somehow#I did NOT like those classes all we did was still life and they were hours long which is esp rough when im in high school and busy#and she wanted us to stand while working the whole time bc tradition i guess?#she did allow me to work sitting but thought i was lazy for it. idk dude i dont want to exhaust myself fast for no reason#standing is a lot more tiring than walking#i def did still benefit from those classes just from learning to accurately draw from life#did not like the teacher tho#on one hand shed paid for the art supplies for kids whos families were too poor to (and these are nice expensive supplies)#which is very nice#but on the other she was very homophobic and open about it#like when they legalized gay marriage she went on a rant about how horrible it is that they can adopt kids now#and also kind of racist#she was telling me how she got blocked from a facebook group bc she made a post asking if she could speak to a white person#and she didnt realize she was posting that publicly she thought it was a private message to the group owner#im honestly still not sure i heard/understood her correctly bc it was so bizzare and the only time i ever remember her being racist#she talked abt it like she genuienly was unaware it was racist#she described it as a misunderstanding bc she accidentally posted it publicly instead of privately#like it wouldnt have been racist to ask that at all#also one time she talked about how she saw demons in her home once#also she doesnt vaccinate her kids bc of microchips#she was like a walking russian stereotype lol#anyway heres some ink the artist lore
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kelocitta · 4 months
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i saw your post on how you were thinking about handling the Whole Artificer Thing and i say, let em be a villain! i think it would be fun
I don't have any qualms about Artificer being cruel or whatever; I just don't think that when working them into an anthro doing a 1-to-1 transfer of their behaviors and/or making them just flat out racist/genocidal is an interesting or accurate way to characterize them. (and I just have. Negative interest in working with that type of character) People can do whatever they want but ultimately I just find the idea that anything other making them aggressively genocidal is like, woobifying them, tiring.
Artificer is obviously not good in the context of the game. But the problem and focus of their actions is the scale and spiritual aspect of it, not the actions themselves. Other slugcats are perfectly capable of killing scavengers, most players likely will and many who don't are only held back by the consequences. Scavengers are also warriors, and Artificer's whole campaign is basically set up on the fact that scavengers are defensive and very much follow a 'shoot first' method of self preservation.
So why does Artificer have always be the one thats uniquely villainous in behavior (now with significantly more moral weight behind it than they had as an animal) when the other slugcats, and even the scavengers, get properly 'civilized' when people make them anthros? I just don't think its an interesting way to utilize them, and I won't fault people who do- but like- I feel like if Artificer is going to be Like That when they can walk and talk and do taxes or whatever than at bare minimum the other slugcats and scavengers' relationship with violence/murder/hunting should be touched on.
I'm not making Artificer a good person. I don't want them to be a good person, because I think the fact they are so bad that they have problems on a spiritual level to be the interesting part. Technically, the Artificer I do for anthro stuff has already done their 'Scav King' and found their 'closure'. They set out to do something awful and did it, they got their ending. So now theyre just old and tired and mean and miserable because getting what you want isnt a solution.
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