Not today Justin
oozey mess
One Nice Bug Per Day
Product Placement
shark vs the universe
Claire Keane
hello vonnie
almost home
pixel skylines
todays bird
Sade Olutola
PR's Tumblrdome
d e v o n
Love Begins
$LAYYYTER
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Kiana Khansmith
i don't do bad sauce passes
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Xuebing Du
seen from Türkiye
seen from T1
seen from Netherlands
seen from Moldova
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Lebanon
seen from Maldives
seen from Lebanon
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Maldives
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@cowlgbt
𝙱𝙰𝚃𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 ; a blog for kate kane primarily inspired by 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗: 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚢 & 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚗 ( 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟸 ). written by bucku, 34, she/her. this blog incorporates canon from pre-new!52 comics only and other extended DC universes (including dctv, dceu, etc. though my face claim and portrayal will remain rooted in elegy and reeves). multi-verse & au friendly.
𝙲𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙳 | 𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚂 | 𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙶
kate is temporarily moving to my multi @spectoral
kate is temporarily moving to my multi @spectoral
sight seeing today - be around later!
anyone fancy a starter?
#𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙻𝙶𝙱𝚃 // red & black, 𝙶𝙴𝚅𝚄𝚁𝙰𝙷, the pillar of severity. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚆𝙰𝚁. i’m a goddamn soldier.
an independent 𝚔𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚔𝚊𝚗𝚎 ( 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 ) inspired by 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗: 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚢 & reeves’ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚗 ( 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟸 ) by bucku. ©
peers in
godblooded:
the way selina swoons and coos is like some dizzy fool she’d never agree to the kind of girl she’d beat a man to death for in an alleyway
the kind of girl that’s still simmering just underneath her skin, sizzling all the time. she’s constantly immolating and no the fuck one can see it. she’s been melting for years and she’s unsure how no one’s aware. maybe it’s because she doesn’t talk to anyone for more minutes than she needs to get what she needs or wants out of them.
maybe it’s because holly is the only person she’s alive for, somehow. bruce could deal without her– she’s a variable in his life he can barely analyze. she doesn’t fit, just like how this persona feels when she puts it on. it has no creases– no gaps, but the mask on her face– kitty-cat as it is– to show for any sort of deception. her lips are so red and her smile agonizes her. it’s throbbing. her teeth hurt. she just hates this, the over-exaggerated little touches of quiet glee enough to paint her as the kind of beautiful brunette too similar to so many others. forgettably memorable.
she hates falsified fawning, and she hates more that it’s without flaw. it feels filthy in a completely different way than selina often has to shake off. it feels like wearing a mask that she was given as more a curse than any sort of beaming gift. her teeth itch. but the word motorcycle sparks to life her brown eyes so vibrant they’re a flicker of flint stricken into the dark.
“ fuck me. “
she can’t help the reaction to the word motorcycle, and somehow it’s clear in the soft quiet of the words she’s surprisingly not intimating anything. between the oddities of those profanities is the real selina, and for a moment it peeks through lacy black enough to give way to the cat’s soul. it’s chipped away at, and suitably inappropriate, but it’s the human remains of a soul.
she moves on autopilot. the moment of weird transparency dissipates to a facade again. she slips back beneath the waters and drowns herself, emerges again with that famous vivacity. she knows kate sees it, and she hopes she won’t really know. her eyes greedily travel down the sleek line and her gorgeous lips dip into a heart-touched pout. one who knows her can see she’s thinking about auto theft, but fuck you, she just loves taking rich people’s shit and then stripping it for parts to fence jokingly easily.
gotta love that corruption.
her desire to wander flares up, but her body remembers to stick close to kate, it recalls in her atoms that she needs safety because right now she feels so exposed. she feels like there are fucking laser sights all trained on her face. she’s doing an incredible job of pretending not to feel the prickles of every tiny hair. that old cigarette burn on the back of her neck throbs, hidden away, but so visible to her every nerve. she doesn’t have to see it to feel it, and then to feel the bottomless discomfort that it’s just there.
“ take me somewhere fun, baby. “
her voice raises a couple charmingly high octaves to put it on really. she’s absolutely unbreakable.
“ even if it is in a car. “
she leaves out instead of a bike. anyone who knows the cat knows that she loves would die for fucking adores motorcycles. and that’s too much knowledge to attach her voice to, even if it is in such a limited environment. one the both of them can get out of. one with an escape hatch. she doesn’t even emphasize car, but she trusts kate’s intellect to be able to just read between the lines. if she doesn’t, she’ll figure it out when her motorcycle disappears.
kate makes nice, playing at the socialite playboy-playwoman-plaything for the media in such a sleight-of-hand portrait that the media will never look at the thing that’s dangling right in front of them: jacob kane’s erstwhile soldier of a daughter scarcely seen outside the cover of a night club is a vigilante. she moves through the crowd with a studied swagger that’s cocky in the hike of her chin, in the weave of her shoulders, in the way that she moves between people as though it’s HER name & not her stepmother’s on the door. she moves in such a way that no one would ever anticipate how uncomfortable it is not to settle her stance into at ease or at attention. she studies every situation for its tactical advantage.
so, because she is trained to hone in on the little things ( & because she’s had selina in her arms, underneath her, touched the edges of something fragile & feral that doesn’t want to be touched ), she captures that hush that breathes out excitement. it draws up the edge of her mouth like a needle through a thread, plucking it up in a pleased quirk that matches the mark of her eyebrow behind the curtain of her bangs.
“ ----- only if you ask nicely. ” a wink that should really only ever be for the cameras that swarm the edges of this particular kane party swimming with sharks feathers out the corner of her eye anyway.
there’s enough there suddenly that it piques her curiosity & her interest. she wants to dip deeper beneath the surface, to prod at this exposed bit of information along with the rationale for their sudden exit from the gala but holds back like a bated breath.
selina spooks easy.
she’s got the cat on her arm for now, let the fickle thing come up close enough to ask for attention & she isn’t about to let her go. they’re out on the front porch in the early summer air that’s warm enough to coax while still bitter enough to brush goose flesh up her bare arms when the breeze suits its own spontaneity.
“ & if you tell me when we’re out of here what the hell has you so freaked out, ” a young man outfitted in a standard-issued neon vest over his suit & tie comes rushing up, flustering to peel the door open for the pair of them. kate holds out her hand so that it balances the underside selina’s elbow to usher her into the vehicle & away from the raucous cacophony of laughter, golf talk, & clinking glasses. “ maybe we’ll have fun in the car. ” that spears a grin that can only be described as rakish & raking up toward her cheek while she fishes a handful of bills free to tip the valet.
crimeloyalty:
“ we’re going to have a long talk about why that surprises you later, ” harley says, almost sounding like a stern professor, disappointed in her student’s lack of critical analysis. ( yeah, okay, she’s been practicing. it’s about time for a pivot into another field, and she does have her phd. might as well use it. )
“ honey, ” harley creeps towards the edge of the shadows, moonlight just starting to reflect off the acid white of her face. “ they’re gonna recognize me, but not from high school. ”
and then she’s leaping into the fray, slipping in between the men so quickly they hardly react until she’s positioned herself in the midst of their activities. they’re going to have a hard time shooting her without shooting each other, though she knows that’ll only stop them for so long. “ hi, boys, ” she grins, sweeping the legs out from under one of them as he gets too close. “ you thought you guys were done with me just ‘cause mr. j was? awh, that’s cute. but i thought we talked about this ⸻ ” her foot in someone’s chest, her teeth in someone’s arm. “ this is harley quinn’s neighborhood. ”
kate doesn’t have enough time to react to the put-upon lecture or do more than ratchet a rocking pendulum swing of her weight to her feet before harley LAUNCHES into the thicket of thugs. “ ----- long talk, surprises, sounds like i’m in for one hell of a conversation, ” cuts the undershot of her response murmured under her breath.
she springs, too, less uncoiling & more whooshing force. an outstretched, flat-booted sole slams, CRACKING into a sternum to splinter before she whirls a rounding spike of her elbow. it’s all hearty bone crunches interspersed with grunting thumps sounding on exhales while she & harley fight in choreographed tandem.
“ any chance your neighborhood has a policy about coughing up the details without throwing a right hook into the mix? ” kate calls as she clutches her fists into the thin-threaded fabric of one of the henchman’s collars. she hoists him up, her whole body yawing him up to the tips of his toes while she rears back, uncurling like a snake about to strike. when she reels forward, her forehead SLAMS into a chartreuse starburst that tips copper flooding into the air, too rich on her tongue. “ ------ because if so, i think we can call it an early night. ”
ofrevival:
they always start there. it’s the first thing that rolls off the tongue of half the night - time occupants that find themselves — for one reason or another — with the red hood stuck to their side, and the vigilante’s not sure when it started to get under his skin so much. but it strikes a sour chord, to think this is always the first thing that comes to their minds when dealing with him. as if he just fires off at anyone for shits & giggles.
he could walk away right now, and it would serve her right. but he needs to see this through. so other than a curt, “ aye aye, captain, ” he doesn’t address the slight to his person. they had bigger fish to fry. so here resumes the flippant attitude of a boy - turned - man far too used to this sort of lifestyle.
“ — we’ve got over or under, which one falls in line with your brilliant plan? ”
she’s not SO far off her west point days that she can’t recognize the corrosion coloring his clipped response. it turns her chin up & over the downspout of her cape’s closure at her throat.
“ pleasantries will get you nowhere with me, ” cuts a dark-rinsed reply too wry to spare companionship even if it’s not unkind.
“ --------- i’m calling under. ” over is predictable, the ninety-nine times out of a hundred that will paint their shadows over the scene & give away their position. she tracks the edges, the vantage points, the places where they could lever up to meet them before their suspended descent slams them home. the pair of them together are unpredictable, a radical teamwork that could keep their targets on their toes. “ they won’t see us coming & we’ll be able to take their feet out from beneath them. ”
she counts the footsteps, mentally tallying the numbers that they’re up against. “ how many have you got? ”
tornove:
Of course Kate is taking this all in stride after all. Doubting she was the first woman Kate set her eyes on who decided to be difficult. What’s worse is that she found herself charmed by such antics. Such an infuriating woman and Maggie was tempted to throttle her.
Still despite every preconception she might have of Kate there is this nagging thought that just won’t go away. Surely if Kate was a player like her mind first warned her about wouldn’t she press her advantage. Instead it seemed like Kate was happy enough with letting her decide. Which made no sense at all and Maggie wondered if she was wrong about Kate. Was she making yet another mistake?
The nickname takes her off guard and completely disarms her honestly. She opens her mouth only to shut it thinking Kate is trouble. Maggie just needed to get a drink and compose herself that is all. Let her defenses build back up so she wasn’t a puddle at the mercy of one damn bat. “Fine. One drink. That you are buying. Which doesn’t mean anything Kane.”
“ i’d say it means something, ” kate’s grin splits wider, cutting up toward her cheek. she has a note of triumph singing brightly in her chest. it’s enough to bolster the spring into her stepping heel & shovel her hands into her pockets. she’s smiling sidelong as they trundle back toward the open angle of the bar light spilling neon into the alleyway. “ ---- it means i convinced you to get a drink with me. ”
she should quit while she’s ahead, take the victory & charm it to something warmer.
instead, kate tilts to peel the door away, stepping back with too grand a gesture & a flicker of her brows up behind her bangs. that, the spark flirting in her gaze, the insinuating jib of her chin cut in toward the heavy pulse of club music still playing inside, is laying it on a little thick. “ why are you so set on pretending like you don’t like me, anyway? ”
the place is shoulder to shoulder, people hovered over tables in close conversation & nursing beers like they’re water poured in effervescent & amber. kate pushes in, sliding sideways through the crowd toward the ledge of the barkeep saddled up in the center.
“ --------- you could just agree to hang out with me for a little while. you never know ; maybe you’ll enjoy my company more than you think. ”
godblooded:
kate damns the variables, but i don’t. i take every number and letter into thought before i make decisions. i pick apart the very nuances of it all because the world needs to be weighed by the pound of flesh this city demands. kate and i have been ripping off chunks of our own selves to toss on the scales for a little more than two years now. time is a flat circle and nothing more, a manmade creation we hold onto because it gives us control.
kate likes order. regiment. she likes being able to be the hero in the face of her own helplessness. she thinks i don’t see it in the bones she breaks and the ferocity with which she crushes them. she thinks i don’t pay hawklike attention to her; that i don’t worry over one of the only people i truly have left.
there isn’t order here. this is a world out of control, just spinning and spinning, unforgivably leaving you frozen and forced in place against your own will. the lights strain my eyes so i squint against them and rush past and out of the grandfather clock that rumbles into place once we’ve both fled.
“ because you’ll keep it to yourself? you won’t tell the cat? “
i don’t look at her as i float by and past the shadows thrown from the embers of the fire dying far from alfred’s body. i watch the rise and fall of his chest by slowing my gait unnoticeably as possible to be positive. there’s a leatherbound copy of the hound of the baskervilles open on his stomach.
“ if she was left alone with a gun and carmine falcone we both know what the end result would be. i don’t trust her within any operations. i don’t want her in important ones. she’s a liability. “
i’m quieter than i realize, sometimes, or i listen to my words as their cadence rushes forth. i can hear my breaths like little hisses, little punishments in my throat for the infancy of my speech. my mouth opens and closes on the hinge of my jaw because i stretch it back to feel the agitation freezing bone. my skin hurts the more i tug it. the kitchen’s vastness seems to go for miles when it’s too late.
““ plans sabotaged by world-class thieves tend to have similar outcomes. “
“ fuck you, bruce. ” she’s LOUD in comparison, a reverberating boom that echoes the hollows of the hallways in the manor like a reflection of her own seething rebuke that rebounds up violently in response to his bold-faced assertion. she hates the way he wafts through the place like a spirit shucked from his skin a long time ago, the way he doesn’t bother acknowledging the corporeal requirements of being a body here. he’s cold, pale, the veins blue against the white spaces the only evidence of humanity that she wants to rip out & hurl right in his face. kate feels furious & violent in the contrast, all of her TOO SOLID in the sprawl of her shoulders & the narrow spire of her red mouth even though she’s as cool & pallid as he is.
her arms cross over her chest. that will keep him out.
“ you don’t get to lecture me on who i’m keeping company. that’s none of your goddamn business. ”
selina is a loose end to unravel all loose ends, a cat with a ball of yarn untangling it a piece at a time & leaving the trail all tangled up in her feet. kate’s wrapped up in it, snared happily, the kind of mouse that begs to be trapped.
but that’s not THIS.
“ i don’t tell her anything i don’t want to. ” it sounds petulant even to her own ears, but she rucks her chin up to him, daring him to disagree with her. he will. she’ll argue back until her gums bleed. “ & why do you get to decide who’s trustworthy & who isn’t? ” this city breeds subterfuge, is teeming with traitors scaled to rival judas, politicians split directly down the center of their faces in a literal fashion to tear between their loyalty to a cheque book more than morals. “ your judgment isn’t foolproof. ”
“ ----- or are you forgetting she was yours first? ” that, the flinch of her self-imposed embrace flexing across its place clutched back toward her jostling shoulders, is a low blow. she knows it, lips tight, too. but that doesn’t stop her from unsealing the brim of her glowering grimace, relinquishing a slouching sigh that dovetails into an ultimatum. “ if you don’t think i’m on your side --- our side --- then rip off the goddamn bandaid now. i’m a big girl ; i can handle it. ”
Kate Kane in Batwoman (2017) #1
[id: an edit of Kate Kane from DC, the background is a bright red to darker red gradient and is split by two transparent bars to make it look like three panels. At the top, Kate is swinging down from a chain, legs propelled forward. In the middle right Kate is seen from behind, her hair flowing. Near the bottom left, Kate is riding her motorcycle, her cape flowing behind her. /end id]
𝙱𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙴𝚁 — 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙻𝚈, 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚁 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙴 𝙾𝚁 𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝚄𝚂𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝚃𝙷 𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃
𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙔 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙈 but Kit didn’t care. She was warm all over and she didn’t know if Kate could hear but she couldn’t stop the joyous chorus of giggling constantly fluttering out of her. Her feet was unsteady as the two of them twirled and spun each other around the beach. Kit gently took @cowlgbt ‘s hand and turned them around swiftly before stumbling into her when the sand knocked her off kilter.
Kate had mentioned a band playing in the distance but hell if Kit could hear anything other than her and Kate’s bubbling laughter. The stars twinkled in the inky dark sky and while they were far from the foggy city lights, the stars were only slightly visible. It was possibly the most romantic and easiest date Kit had ever been on. And the fact she considered this a date rather than a means to the bed spoke volumes– if only to Kit.
Her face was split into a wide grin as she leaned into Kate and tried to lead the taller woman in a stumbling waltz, laughing loudly as her head fell back and they spun again. Suddenly, Kit was in the sand on her ass laughing happily as the warmth continued to blossom under her skin and she tried to catch her breath. Looking over to where Kate had fallen beside her, Kit bit her bottom lip and just admired the other woman. She looked so rough and strong. All lean muscle and rough edges. But oh how beautiful she was. << YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL >> Kit signed softly, eyes sparkling as they gazed adoringly at the dimmed visage of Kate in the moonlit night light.
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. it isn’t duty-driven & she doesn’t have a measured corner or regulation to pair along with the quick-beating flutter that is a familiar rhythm behind her sternum, behind that silver knife scar. but with the music thrumming in the backdrop with an acoustic strum catching twangy & bright while the sashay of a drum splashes on the meander of a bassist’s blue notes, this feels SUBSTANTIAL enough that she can sweep kit into her arms & let her feet land atop it like solid ground.
she’s barefoot. the sun is long doused below the expanse of argent-tipped ocean in the distance & the sand is all silver & shadow, cool under the pad of her heel & a relief between the clutch of her toes.
all of this will be GONE tomorrow, dusted away with a souse of bathwater, grains lingering in the folds of fabric sloughed behind.
that --- 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 --- is enough to secure the wrap of her arms around the other woman’s waist, to hang tightly to the sensation of laughter ratcheting ribs wide before stricting them in. kate moves under a blaze of buzzy, cheap beer, & the understanding that out here there is nothing but them, a salt-licked breeze, & the near proximity of a stage just out of reach.
𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙺𝙰𝚃𝙴.
the flourish of fingertips playing out a compliment meant solely for her plies at the softness settled behind her sense of duty. “ you, too, ” kate mouths back, a short signatory in the air before she swings kit out into a spin.
“ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽, ” hollows harshly into the night, a spectral whisper seconded by a CLAP OF CAPE flourishing a single smack on the landing. she says it like she isn’t sporting a caricature of the chiropteran costume laced with dashes of carmine on the hems ( as though his silhouette swelling into the belly of an alley doused dark & damply threatening isn’t the precursor to her own voyage to vigilantism, to making an effort to snatch this city from the gnashing maws of its own seedy self-destruction ).
her toes brim the flirting edge of a rooftop.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎: it’s deep into the swill of twilight ; a shallow spit of spotlights lamp the skyscape up above. the jaundiced trickle of a signal interspersed amidst a thready-silver spatter of starlights is enough to motivate her to the crime before he gets there. she’s waiting, watching, holding the moment in her lungs in the anticipation that they have different aims: she wants to seize the salvation ; he wants to avenge a loss. they both have a bat plated at the center of a breast, a nightlike sylph of self that can’t be ignored.
@batfall shows up or he’s already here when she arrives.
“ i’d say we should work out a schedule or something so we don’t 𝙱𝚄𝚃𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂, but i’m starting to think that’s what i like about these little hangouts. ”
dr1fts:
her charade can withstand some pressing. much graver truths had been hidden from worse, sentiments & secrets buried so deep they suffocate beneath the weight of it all. it was only in the safety of isolation that she may pay mind to the subsurface threats of her delinquency, of the risks that came with indulgence. human nature begged for risks to be taken. a hand lifts to brush loose strands aside, musings put on hold just as quickly — it wasn’t every day someone called your bluff. “ maybe you should try my idea out some time. ” own brow curls, almost amused by the persistence. no one could ever truly care … ᶜᴼᵁᴸᴰ ᵀᴴᴱᵞ ? “ fine, i’ll work on the lying too. what’s with the special interest? don’t think i can handle myself? ”
“ lying just isn’t my thing. ” kate doesn’t spare subtleties, not with this. her response is plainspoken ; no shrug crowds the shape of her shoulders where they hover the undersides of her ears. she doesn’t do it ( she tells herself that’s the TRUTH even when she’s wrapping herself up in thickly padded kevlar with a bat-shaped emblem plastered across the breast in shades of carmine ). “ it doesn’t get you anywhere you want to be going in my experience. ”
the truth gets her thrust out of west point. THE TRUTH gets her kicked on her ass out of the only place she’d belonged.
it gets her here.
“ i don’t believe in pretending to be something i’m not. ” & maybe that’s the secret, the key is that drowning in an icewater bath of vodka & tossing her arms into the air to the heady thrum of a subwoofer bass blowing the rhythm out of the walls is who she is sometimes. kate shoves a hand at the short hairs bristling the nape of her neck. “ if that’s working out for you, tell me how the hell that is. ”
