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RULES:

Leave an anon prompt in the comments
Answer an anon prompt in the comments

That's simple right? ^_^

THIS POST IS NOW CLOSED FOR NEW PROMPTS

You can still answer prompts though! there is no limit on that.

Have fun!

FILLED PROMPTS:

2. leaf and vine, Ollie/Dick

3. "Knockin' on Heaven's Door", Batfam

6. not a flaw but a feature, clark/zee

8. by halves, bruce, ollie

Date: 2013-03-26 11:05 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
An allergic reaction to some Tamaranean pie from the canteen makes Kate go into heat. She'll be in excruciating pain if she can't get laid...and due to Circumstances, Guy is the only person on the Tower who can help her.

Please have it contain Knows What She Wants!Kate and be scorchingly filthy if at all possible.

Date: 2013-03-26 11:06 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
(that's Manhunter!Kate in case it wasn't clear)

Date: 2013-03-27 12:44 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Ollie/Dick

Ollie helps Dick get past his fear of figging

Ollie/Dick, "Leaf and Vine"

Date: 2013-05-01 07:34 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"How long has it been?" Dick asks, and Ollie removes his hand from Dick's plush ass, letting the cheek spring back to its natural position as juicy as a ripe peach. "Barely a second or two," Oliver tells him, even though when Dick raises up on an elbow to curl around and look, the older man isn't bothering to check his Patek Philippe.

"Lie still," Oliver instructs, giving the plump cushions below Dick's hips a tug, a straighten and a pat. They provide a comfortable and stimulating base, a contrast of satiny fabric and rougher embroidery against Dick's length, but more than that they serve as a way to lift and present his ass and set it as a centerpiece on display.

Oliver moves away from the bed to sit in one of the hotel suite chairs, completely out of Dick's line of sight. It's a switch from a few minutes ago, when he was standing next to the bed so Dick could watch as he deftly and swiftly took the thin skin off the prong of ginger, carved a groove into the exposed fibrous flesh to make it more of a plug. Touched it lightly to his tongue with a grunt of satisfaction before dragging the peeled plug against Dick's lower lip. The scent was fresh, peppery, a thick woodiness to the smear on his mouth as Ollie took it away, leaving only the aroma in the air.

It's been more than a second or two and Dick is ready to inquire again about it when he starts to feel a warmth between his firm cheeks. A slight glowing sensation, as if he's just been stretched, and then it starts to build. He hears the rustle of a newspaper (is Oliver not even watching?) and the older man informs him, "You should be feeling something about now."

"I think I am," Dick mumbles, folding his arms under his face so he can bite his bicep as the heat mounts. The sand-colored warmth is getting steadily more yellow, then orange, and Dick feels his hole contract on the plug of ginger. But it's not going anywhere, secured inside him by the shape of its carving. All he can do is squeeze and release, helplessly milking more of the thin fearsome liquid into the soft, sensitive inner channels of his body. "I can't...Ollie, please, I can't!..."

"Yes, you can." Oliver's voice is sonorous, somewhat detached, as if he's enjoying the show but has no desire to be part of it. As if Dick is...a circus performer, not to fall back on the obvious. There as a display, for the archer's voyeuristic pleasure.

Dick doesn't know if this idea angers or excites him. But then the sensation of the ginger moves through orange into red, and he throws his head back with a wail. "Please!" Dick begs, throat strained, his thighs tense as his pointed feet beat against the mattress. He reaches out blindly, fingers catching straggled in the curls of the wrought-iron headboard, and his hips raise and fall, humping against the cushions in a desperate attempt to escape.

"That's it, sweetheart," Oliver says, sounding pleased, and through the delirious haze of torment Dick realizes that his cock is rising, scraping along the embroidery and sliding across the satin of the cushion below him. He's still panting and moaning, but even he can hear the shift in the coloration of the sounds, from shocked to desperate, from protest to want.

Oliver finally puts down the newspaper and comes over to the bed. "Hold still," he says, and the words are hardly out before he's spreading his strong fingers over Dick's ass again, holding the cheeks open, and Dick feels a soothing cool drizzle of oil slip into his crack, along the edges of the plug of ginger. It makes the fire into something silkier and wetter, and as the oil winds down between his legs, he realizes that it's full of juice from the ginger. Oliver moves up to the head of the bed and detaches one of Dick's clinging hands, crossing it over the other at the wrist so when Dick's fingers cling again, there's the feeling and illusion of having his wrists bound together. The older man pushes the heel of his hand against Dick's back, under the shoulder blade, then trails the backs of his fingers down the groove of Dick's twisting spine.

"Keep moving," he murmurs, and Dick tosses his head in frustration because he's doing that, already. He can't stop rutting into the cushions and spreading his legs wider, smearing the scented oil around, hearing it drip onto the expensive sheets. "I want more oil," Dick gasps, and Oliver obligingly pours more onto him, more and more until Dick feels slick and wet as a sea lion and oil is lubricating his hole, his cock, his balls. The sheets will be ruined, the cushions definitely as his hard length pushes rudely against them.

Ollie hasn't sat down again and Dick feels the hand on his back turn, palm-down, and press firmly against the rise of his ass. "It won't do anything else now," the archer says, and takes hold of the ginger plug, wiggling it, rocking it and twisting it before pulling it out entirely. Dick gives a long, drawn-out groan and bows his back, ass raised and cock dug into the cushions. He's half-mad from sensation, the burning warm of the ginger combined with the cool soothing oil, the tickling heat receding into something more pleasant, more stimulating, spreading over his skin. And as much as the ginger plug had been a torment, now that it's gone he feels empty, his soft and opened hole waiting to be filled.

"So." Oliver reappears within Dick's sightline, and he tries to raise his head to look at the older man, but Ollie presses his head back down. All Dick can see is his midsection, still dressed in suit trousers and a pale blue shirt. "What did you think about your second time? With somebody who knows what they're doing?"

He licks his lips, pushing his ass out invitingly, flexing his fingers on the wrought iron like he can't remove them. Oliver is unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. "I think," Dick begins, then has to stop and turn his face against the mattress as a surge of the gingered warmth heats his insides, drips down his cock. "I think I don't give a fig for the first time, in comparison."

Oliver is still only midsection when Dick turns his head again, but he swears he can hear a smile in the man's voice when he says, "Atta boy." Then the older man shifts, down behind Dick, and Dick closes his eyes to imagine what it looks like when he feels two thick fingers sink inside him, eased by his soft, slick openness, testing and stretching before easing out. The cold metal of that expensive watch presses briefly against his thigh.

When Dick hears a belt being unbuckled, he licks his lips, and tastes the ginger there.



Re: Ollie/Dick, "Leaf and Vine"

Date: 2013-05-01 03:04 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
It's figging time! Love the descriptions of the heat by colors. This whole thing was definitely hot!

Date: 2013-03-27 08:41 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
The man's goal was to have sex with the woman. But her goal was to eat him.

Knockin' on Heaven's Door

Date: 2013-03-31 05:55 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"It sounds like there's more of them out there now" Dick sighed.

"Useless" Damian groused as he tossed aside the thermal goggles. "They generate no body heat. Grayson, how long must we remain here?"

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"I see no reason why we cower behind these walls" Cass said, wiping blood off of her katana. "I was doing just fine out there on my own."

"Until you lost her!" Tim snapped. "If you were doing such a good job, then where the hell is she?!"

Cass stopped wiping and looked down at her feet.

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"Arguing isn't going to help anything" Dick said, raising his voice. "Bruce said he wants us here in the Manor's command center until he figures out our next move. And we're not going anywhere until we hear from him."

"-tt-" Damian tutted. "We should be in the cave."

"Tim, I know you're upset" Dick said, ignoring Damian's suggestion and putting on his reassuring tone of voice. "I am too. But Stephanie is highly trained. She knows how to survive, how to handle herself. When we're able to, we'll go out and find her. For now, let's focus on what we can do, not on who to blame."

"I know who to blame" Tim snapped, sending a withering gaze Cass' direction before turning back to his terminal. "I've been trying to get a good look at the Manor grounds, but the smoke from the fires in the city is making satellite pictures worthless. Robin already pointed out why the thermal sensors are no good."

"So are the rest of your gadgets, Drake" Damian said.

"What we need" Tim continued, ignoring Robin's taunts, "is a physical assessment. We all saw how bad things were in the city. The fact that they're all the way out here at the Manor might mean they're on the move."

"Or it might mean that the whole problem is spreading" Dick said, completing Tim's thought.

"I'll head to the roof" Cass said hopping up and grabbing her night vision binoculars. She headed out, glad to put some distance between herself and Tim.

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"The cave tunnels are still clear" Dick said, watching Cass walk out. "We can still make it out of here and to Blüdhaven by water when we need -"

"We're not leaving without her!" Tim snapped back. "I'm not leaving here without Stephanie!"

"No one is going anywhere yet" a voice interrupted from the computer. Bruce's cowled visage in the cockpit of the Batplane appeared on the monitor. His brow was dripping with sweat. "The city's overrun. The cops didn't stand a chance. When headquarters fell, Gordon refused to let me pull him out of there. He went down, guns blazing. I barely made it out myself." Bruce's image on screen was replaced with tactical maps while he continued his report. "I made a sweep over Blüdhaven. Dick, it's gone. So's Metropolis. Pockets of resistance are holding out as best they can, especially in the South. In the cities, the highest skyscrapers are full of refugees. But without some real help, they won't last long." The images of those cities flashed flashed red on Batman's maps. "Still no word from Batwoman or Flamebird?"

Dick shook his head.

"Oracle? Huntress?" Bruce asked. "Selina?"

"Nothing" Dick replied. "We listened to the battle at the police station. Since then, everyone's been radio silent."

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

The warriors in Wayne Manor stood silently. Bruce's face returned to the screen. "If this infection is spreading like we think, I'm not sure we'll be able to stop it" he said. "I'm trying to coordinate with the League but they're spread thin too. No one can find Superman. Word is he's still in Metropolis. I managed to get through to Green Arrow. He was on his way with a platoon of fighters to do what they could in Star City."

"These things are on the West Coast too?" Damian asked, hopping to his feet in surprise.

"Yes" Bruce replied. "It sprang up just as quick there too. The Green Lanterns are doing what they can to hold the lines, but even they are barely hanging on. They... Damian, they lost Rayner."

Robin blinked. For a split second, his shoulders slumped and his eyes looked moist before he regained his composure. "We have our own problems to deal with here" Damian said.

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

Tim cleared his throat. "Bruce" he half whispered. "Bruce, I don't know how to tell you this, but..."

"Did he die?" Bruce asked, cutting to the point. The question sounded so cold, so clinical. But the emotional weight behind it almost caused the room to burst. The silence was palpable.

"Twenty minutes ago" Tim finally answered. "And then he... he..."

"He turned" Dick said. "We have him restrained in his bedroom."

"Alfred was a faithful servant" Bruce said, "and a good friend. He doesn't deserve this fate. And he doesn't deserve to live like one of those things outside."

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"Dick?" Bruce asked, his voice almost inaudibly cracking. "Will you -?"

"I'll do it" Damian said. "He served the Wayne family. It will be a Wayne that serves him this last time." He grabbed his sword from the nearby table and pulled it from its scabbard.

"I'll go with you" Dick said, putting a comforting hand on Damian's shoulder as they walked out of the Manor's command center. Damian did not object.

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

Tim looked up at Bruce on the screen. "What should we do now?"

"Stay locked down inside the Manor" Bruce replied. "Stay out of the cave. I don't know how secure it is. Help Dick with whatever he needs. I'm about to contact the League again and review our options. Until then, get someone on the roof. You need a physical assessment out there. I'll be back in touch as soon as I know something. Batman out."

As the screen went black, Tim could see the reflection of Cass standing behind him. She had returned during Bruce's last commands. Tim turned to face her. "Do you have something?" Cass' face was drained of all its color; her eyes were wide open. "What is it? What did you see?"

She walked over to a terminal and pulled a cord, plugging her gauntlet computers into it. "Look" she said.

"Are we cut off? Are their numbers more than we thought?"

"Look" she repeated. On the screen, Tim could see the Manor grounds from the roof. A horde of the undead shuffled through. Reanimated corpses trudged around, bumping into one another. Some snapped and clawed at each other; others seemed to wander with no purpose. Tim watched as Cass swept the area with her camera, then stopped.

On the screen, Tim watched as Cass focused in on one of the walkers. "No..." He heard Cass say. Tim watched in horror as Cass' camera zoomed into one shuffling walker.

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"Is- Is that...?" Tim asked.

"Tim, I'm so sorry" Cass said.

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

On screen, Stephanie shambled through the crowd. The night vision tinted the scene green but the cape, the cowl, the utility belt, the blonde hair, it was all there.

"No..." Tim sobbed. "Noooo!" Cass walked across the room and tried to hold Tim. He slapped her arms away. "We have to open the door! We have to let her in!"

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"Tim, you know we can't" Cass said. She tried again to embrace him. He punched her in the abdomen.

As Cass doubled over, Tim leapt for the controls. She recovered and grabbed his ankle. Tim fell forward, but twisted and kicked at Cass' grip.

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

Cass flipped up and grabbed Tim by the shoulders, spinning him around. She slammed the heel of her hand into Tim's chin. He fell backwards, losing his balance. "Tim!" she yelled. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! But she's gone!"

As Tim fell, he landed on a terminal. On the screen, the read outs and messages were replaced with live video; his elbow had activated the Manor's cameras. Every monitor in the room was filled with the same image - a dead Stephanie Brown slamming her fists into the front doors of the Manor and moaning. "Nooooo!" Tim screamed.

He flipped around, frantically searching for the right controls. "Tim, no!" Cass shouted. "You can't!"

"What has Drake done now?" Damian asked, walking back into the room. He stopped short as he saw the image on the screen. "Brown?"

"Is that...?" Dick asked.

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"We have to let her in" Tim said, panicking. "We have to save her!"

"Drake, you've lost your mind" Damian said.

"Tim!" Dick shouted, diving for the controls. "Do not open that -" Tim spun and kicked Dick away.

"She's just acting!" Tim said, typing in codes as fast as she could. "She's just pretending in order to fool those things. We have to let her in!"

"Tim, she's gone!" Dick said, picking himself up. "Think of the rest of us in here. It's too dangerous!"

~Thump Thump Tathumpthump Thurump~

"No" Tim said. "She can't be gone. I - I love her!" Tim punched in another string of codes. "We are meant to be together forever." He flipped one last switch.

"Drake, NO!" Damian shouted. But it was too late.

The video feeds showed the doors of Wayne Manor spring open and hordes of the undead pouring in. Snapping and growling, the walking corpses tore into Bruce's childhood home. Dick grabbed his eskrima sticks. "Form up!" he commanded. ""Stay tight! Protect each other! Don't let them surround you!" He charged out of the room. "Tim! Come with me!"

"Damian!" Cass shouted, grabbing her katana. "With me!"

Damian unsheathed his sword. "I will show no mercy!" he growled as he ran after her.

"Stephanie!" Tim cried out, ignoring Dick's orders. He ran towards the foyer as she stumbled in. "Stephanie, you're safe!"

The whoosh-crack of Nightwing's eskrima sticks breaking skulls could be heard from the dining room. His screams as the dead dragged him down echoed down the same halls he once played in as a child.

The swish-spat and swoosh-ping of blades could be heard from the kitchen. "Damian! No!!!" Cass yelled as the boy's pained death screams added to the cacophony of moans and guttural sounds. She refused to cry out herself as the dead took her too.

Tim fought his way to the foyer, pushing through the walking corpses until he saw her. "Stephanie!" he called out. He dropped his staff and ran towards her. What was once Stephanie Brown, Batgirl, growled and snapped as she looked up at Tim. He reached her just as her eyes flashed. "You're with me now! You're safe baby! You're safe!"

As Stephanie bit down and ripped at his shoulder, tears streamed down Tim's face. "We'll always be together" he cried.
___________________

"Nightwing, report" Bruce's voice could be heard over the speakers as the dead roamed Wayne Manor. "Dick, are you there? Black Bat, Red Robin, report. Tim? Cassandra, are you there? Robin, report. I need someone to give me a status report. The League is ready to respond. Nightwing, this is Batman. Report. Anyone...? Damian...?"

Re: Knockin' on Heaven's Door

Date: 2013-03-31 10:40 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Chilling! So good!

Re: Knockin' on Heaven's Door

Date: 2013-04-02 08:58 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
oh dear I have feels

Date: 2013-03-30 01:14 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
GGG is a little too concerned with some of the "superzeroes" into obsessive stalker territory. Whoever is up to you but I'd suggest Kate, Dick, Mar'i, Clark, or Mia. Or all of them, Or ALL of the leaguers whatever floats your boat.

Date: 2013-04-08 05:40 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Let's make DaddyBats literal! All the Bat-kids are just that--KIDS! Play with the ages all you like, just make this family Batdorable!!

Date: 2013-04-13 06:11 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Clark has a pouch like a kangaroo. This is a normal part of his family's Kryptonian development, so he doesn't see it as anything strange.

Clark/Zee -- Not a Flaw but a Feature

Date: 2013-04-30 11:41 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"If I had known about this when I married you," Zatanna began. She fully intended to have the sentence end in either a shriek so high it would break all of the cut-glass crystal that J'onn had given them as a wedding present, or a blast of some kind of magic that would rival the trickster gods, but...but Clark looked at her, his clear blue eyes wounded yet hopeful, and she sighed and unloosened the knot of backwards magic that had been on her tongue.

"It's not...is this usual, Clark? For Kryptonians? Really?"

Clark nodded eagerly, big hands smoothing over his abdomen, and Zatanna tried not to look down. Her husband was a kangaroo. A wallaby. A...what other animals had pouches? Opossums? Some other marsupial that existed only in Australia? Did a group of Kryptonians crash-land there once and mutate all of the animals through close living? A mental image of a fleet of Clark-looking people solemnly lined up with kangaroos and opossums and platypuses wearing wedding veils played across Zee's mind, and she choked back a laugh as her own husband continued what he'd apparently started saying: "--certain segment of the population, and it's so handy that I suppose we never evolved back from them!"

"Handy," Zee said dubiously. To be honest, she didn't even want to look at the pouch. She stared at Clark's white teeshirt, wondering what it looked like under there. Did the pouch hang off him? Was it covered in fur? Or worse -- hair? She did a tiny gross-out dance that Clark fortunately didn't see as he explained, "Oh, yes! If you rescue eggs and need to incubate them, or if you pick up dinner and want to keep it warm on the way home, or if you've gone shopping and forgot to bring a bag!"

Zee shut her eyes for a moment. "Shopping," she repeated, faintly. "Yes, I can see that. I could even use it as a purse, why not."

Clark squinted. "There's no need to get silly, angel," he said, and Zee demanded, "All right, let me see it," before she started laughing hysterically.

Smiling in his most reassuring manner, Clark tugged up the hem of his teeshirt. Zatanna forced herself to unfocus her gaze until his stomach was entirely exposed; she wanted to see it all at once, not bit by bit. It wouldn't do to start squealing and flapping her hands and making the "eiw eiw eiw" face before he even finished lifting his shirt.

And there it was, and it...it wasn't hairy, which was a huge relief, and no fur either. Instead it was like a doubled thickness of skin, lying flat against Clark's belly, hardly discernible as something extra until you reached just below his waist. Then there was a thin line of flesh, a flat folded lip of it like bias tape on a hem. Zee reached for it, her fingertips curling around the warm seam and then inside, below the flat layer of skin. It felt fine, warm and dry and there was Clark's abdomen moving gently with his breath, brushing the back of her hand. Her palm and fingertips pressed into the pouch skin and Zee heard herself make a small noise between a squeak and a moan as it yielded to her touch, elastic but strong, warm as well from the blood coursing through it. Her husband's blood.

"Not as strange as it sounds, right?" Clark's voice had dipped low, and his smile had gotten slower, longer. Zatanna stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, smiling against his instantly responsive mouth.

"Clark," she said in a chiding tone. "I'm a magician. If there's one thing we like, it's secret hiding places."

The grateful look of relief on Clark's face wasn't hard to read. But when he said, "Since you're all right with it, then, I might as well tell you that the sandwiches I brought home the other day--"

"Don't ever finish that sentence for as long as we live," Zee said, and kissed him harder.

Date: 2013-04-13 06:17 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Everybody works in one of the Disney theme parks. It's another day of costumes and rides and churro stands, budding romance, bitter rivalries, ambitious coworkers, lazy stragglers, and everything else in between!

Date: 2013-04-15 07:35 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Bruce and Ollie are practically Don Draper and Roger Sterling, so let's have a Mad Men AU!

by halves

Date: 2014-12-17 12:21 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"What I don't get about you," Ollie Queen says from behind Bruce's corner office desk where he's flipping through the Rolodex with only half an interest in his own snooping, "is how you can manage to sit here all day looking at that ugly lime tree and not throw yourself out the window."

"It's not a lime tree, it's a ficus," Bruce says, "and get out of my chair."

"See what I mean?" Ollie says with the long-suffering sigh that he gives when people don't engage with his aimless chatter. "Makes you cranky. Anyhow, I didn't come in here for interior decorating," he says, getting up and pouring himself a significant sort of whiskey to make up for it. "I came because I wanted to know how the new girl's doing." He slugs back half the glass without blinking. "What is she, Chinese? She didn't look shifty enough to be Japanese."

"This is the reason we took you off the Hashi account before you were even on it," Bruce grunts, making an identical drink for himself. "She's Korean, but only half."

"If the mom looked like her, I don't blame GI Joe for picking up his chopsticks."

Bruce smirks but doesn't follow up on the comment. "She's good so far," he says. "Mia says she tends to be too political but they've been able to sand the edges off enough for it to appeal without offending."

"Offending doesn't automatically rule out appealing," Ollie remarks. "And that Rayner kid's art can make anything seem stupider." He sits down in the chair on the other side of Bruce's desk and leans forward. "Listen. I was thinking, about last week--"

"If this is about what happened at the party, I don't want to hear it," Bruce says. The whiskey makes a sour burble in his stomach, acid against his breakfast of two spoonfuls of banana pudding that Kate had made during the night, up with insomnia and chain-smoking until she passed out from exhaustion. "What goes on between you and Zatanna is your own business. Nothing to do with me."

"Anymore," Ollie finishes for him. He wants Bruce to agree, it's obvious in the unflinching gaze, and Bruce spreads his hands, more tired than pissed.

"What do you want me to say, Ollie? It's done. All of it. I've got a Korean girl's overly political ad copy for Soft Touch cotton balls to deal with now, if you don't mind." Bruce puts his hands on his desk, exasperated, until Ollie gets up and jams his hands in his pockets.

"Let her be political," he says. "Hell, it's cotton balls. If she can get people spitting fire over those, then she's got a future here." Ollie pauses in the doorway. "She's a beautiful girl, Bruce."

"The party's over, Ollie," Bruce says.

He drinks the rest of Ollie's whiskey once the door shuts.

Re: by halves

Date: 2014-12-18 08:44 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
This was fantastic and disturbing!

Date: 2013-07-18 12:08 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Zach and Mia are undoubtedly the snarkiest of the League. Imagine how fun and sarcastic a date between them would be!

Date: 2013-07-18 12:09 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Just what actually IS a Cacheena?

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