nonporn
I wasn't going to post these tonight, because they aren't porn, but I'm not good at waiting while kirax2 fills in her bits of Pornchat, so I'm going to go ahead and do this now.
Certain friends of mine have been very busy and haven't been able to participate properly in porn day. They've also been kind of shafted, since everything I've posted so far has been squicky for faile_neume and has too little Jason in it for shiny_glor_chan...
I put a *lot* of effort into porn, because I feel like if I don't there's not much point to it. There's still one more piece coming from kirax2 and I - we're trying to get an ending for it now. But after that, I'm going to pass out, because PORNDAY IS EXHAUSTING. Seriously folks. 3 porns in 36 hours. I am very tired.
But I wanted to do something for my poor neglected friends. ^_^ So I made them some nonporn.
GUESS WHICH ONE IS FOR WHO YOU WILL NEVER GUESS!
Third Time's The Charm
The room is dark and and very quiet, the silence broken only by the ticking of the clock Jason had tried to muffle under his shirt. There's someone here, though - he knows it. He can *feel* it, with that awareness Bruce had trained into him long before Talia had gotten her manicured nails on him. The air moves differently in a room when someone else is breathing, no matter how quiet they managed to be.
The bed shifts. Jason rolls off of it and slaps the light switch on the wall, dropping into a crouch before his eyes have even adjusted.
Ravager blinks back at him with her one good eye, the other hidden behind a white suede eyepatch. She looks amused.
She also looks naked.
“Not that I'm complaining,” Jason says, because he'd had a suspicion it might be her after their unexpected team-up a few hours before, “but I was expecting you to be holding a sword.”
“I can do that,” Ravager says, a lilt in her voice. She raises one long, beautiful leg and rests her knee on the thin motel mattress.
The curtains match the drapes, which answers *that* question. “Literally or metaphorically?”
She shrugs. The motion makes her breasts bob enticingly. “Either.”
Jason...has to stop and think about it.
*
Funhouse Mirror
It takes him a while to get back to Earth 11, making the rounds with Donna and Green Lantern. When he does, the Atom doesn't want anything to do with him and Superwoman just pats him on the head with maternal affection. Kylie Rayner is *not* an option, even if she is disturbingly hot. He's just about given up when Batwoman pulls him into a dark corner and kisses the breath out of him.
He lets her clutch him tight and pet his hair, but he pulls back when she starts pressing fevered kisses to his cheeks and brow. It's too familiar. “I'm not her.”
“No” she whispers, brokenly, and tucks her face into his hair. She slides her hands up his flat chest and pushes his jacket off his shoulders. “You're not. But you're better than nothing.”
*
Xesttub
She's taken her mask off to wipe her tears, and she doesn't see the slim, dark-haired figure until he's almost to her side. That just makes her even madder. Always sneaking up on people! That stupid *jerk*. What had she ever *seen* in him, anyway?
“You *never listen*!” she shouts, finding a broken brick on the rooftop and turning to fling it in his direction. “I said I never wanted to see you again, you big - oh.”
It's not Tim. Whoever he is, she's really glad he's got good reflexes.
“Sorry to intrude,” the stranger says. He's handsome and well-dressed and Steph reflexively wipes her face and hides her runny nose behind a gauntlet. “I was on the way to an appointment, and I'm afraid I overheard. I just wanted to say that I couldn't agree with you more. Timothy is *indeed* a cocksucking little cunt.” He doffs his tophat in a practiced gesture and polishes the rim with a gloved wrist before reaching inside. He pulls out a handkerchief, which Steph accepts. .
“Who are you?” she asks, dabbing daintily at her cheeks. Shit. Her mascara's running. You shell out a fortune on sweat-proof, water-proof, everything-proof before you see your ex, and of course it's going to run down your face the minute you start shouting at each other.
“Just a concerned citizen-” he says as he reaches back into the hat with a flourish and pulls out a long-stemmed rose that couldn't possibly have fit inside,“-who hates to see a pretty girl cry.”
(this title has nothing to do with the story, but I told *someone* to give me a title in return for writing her a story, and that is what she picked, so there it stays BECAUSE SOMEONE DOESN'T TAKE THING SERIOUSLY! This is what I'm talking about! You never actually listen to me! I can't take it anymore, it's all about you! It's just take, take, take, take! What about my feelings, what about me?)
Certain friends of mine have been very busy and haven't been able to participate properly in porn day. They've also been kind of shafted, since everything I've posted so far has been squicky for faile_neume and has too little Jason in it for shiny_glor_chan...
I put a *lot* of effort into porn, because I feel like if I don't there's not much point to it. There's still one more piece coming from kirax2 and I - we're trying to get an ending for it now. But after that, I'm going to pass out, because PORNDAY IS EXHAUSTING. Seriously folks. 3 porns in 36 hours. I am very tired.
But I wanted to do something for my poor neglected friends. ^_^ So I made them some nonporn.
GUESS WHICH ONE IS FOR WHO YOU WILL NEVER GUESS!
Third Time's The Charm
The room is dark and and very quiet, the silence broken only by the ticking of the clock Jason had tried to muffle under his shirt. There's someone here, though - he knows it. He can *feel* it, with that awareness Bruce had trained into him long before Talia had gotten her manicured nails on him. The air moves differently in a room when someone else is breathing, no matter how quiet they managed to be.
The bed shifts. Jason rolls off of it and slaps the light switch on the wall, dropping into a crouch before his eyes have even adjusted.
Ravager blinks back at him with her one good eye, the other hidden behind a white suede eyepatch. She looks amused.
She also looks naked.
“Not that I'm complaining,” Jason says, because he'd had a suspicion it might be her after their unexpected team-up a few hours before, “but I was expecting you to be holding a sword.”
“I can do that,” Ravager says, a lilt in her voice. She raises one long, beautiful leg and rests her knee on the thin motel mattress.
The curtains match the drapes, which answers *that* question. “Literally or metaphorically?”
She shrugs. The motion makes her breasts bob enticingly. “Either.”
Jason...has to stop and think about it.
*
Funhouse Mirror
It takes him a while to get back to Earth 11, making the rounds with Donna and Green Lantern. When he does, the Atom doesn't want anything to do with him and Superwoman just pats him on the head with maternal affection. Kylie Rayner is *not* an option, even if she is disturbingly hot. He's just about given up when Batwoman pulls him into a dark corner and kisses the breath out of him.
He lets her clutch him tight and pet his hair, but he pulls back when she starts pressing fevered kisses to his cheeks and brow. It's too familiar. “I'm not her.”
“No” she whispers, brokenly, and tucks her face into his hair. She slides her hands up his flat chest and pushes his jacket off his shoulders. “You're not. But you're better than nothing.”
*
Xesttub
She's taken her mask off to wipe her tears, and she doesn't see the slim, dark-haired figure until he's almost to her side. That just makes her even madder. Always sneaking up on people! That stupid *jerk*. What had she ever *seen* in him, anyway?
“You *never listen*!” she shouts, finding a broken brick on the rooftop and turning to fling it in his direction. “I said I never wanted to see you again, you big - oh.”
It's not Tim. Whoever he is, she's really glad he's got good reflexes.
“Sorry to intrude,” the stranger says. He's handsome and well-dressed and Steph reflexively wipes her face and hides her runny nose behind a gauntlet. “I was on the way to an appointment, and I'm afraid I overheard. I just wanted to say that I couldn't agree with you more. Timothy is *indeed* a cocksucking little cunt.” He doffs his tophat in a practiced gesture and polishes the rim with a gloved wrist before reaching inside. He pulls out a handkerchief, which Steph accepts. .
“Who are you?” she asks, dabbing daintily at her cheeks. Shit. Her mascara's running. You shell out a fortune on sweat-proof, water-proof, everything-proof before you see your ex, and of course it's going to run down your face the minute you start shouting at each other.
“Just a concerned citizen-” he says as he reaches back into the hat with a flourish and pulls out a long-stemmed rose that couldn't possibly have fit inside,“-who hates to see a pretty girl cry.”
(this title has nothing to do with the story, but I told *someone* to give me a title in return for writing her a story, and that is what she picked, so there it stays BECAUSE SOMEONE DOESN'T TAKE THING SERIOUSLY! This is what I'm talking about! You never actually listen to me! I can't take it anymore, it's all about you! It's just take, take, take, take! What about my feelings, what about me?)