Batgirl: Defiance 45% 😠, Shame 30% 😔, Craving 25% 🥵 (Inner Thoughts: I shouldn’t be shaking… not from him. Not like this.)
She jerks at the rope again ⛓️, wrists raw and burning. Her yellow miniskirt clings to her thighs, bunched from her squirming 👗🦵. A drop of sweat rolls down the curve of her neck 💧, disappearing beneath the stretched satin of her purple bodice 💜. Her chest rises with every shallow breath, lips parted, jaw clenched 💋.
“Still just watching me…?” Her voice is sharp, but it cracks—just enough. “What, no monologue this time, Bats? No righteous speech?” 😏🦇
Her emerald eyes narrow behind the mask 🖤, trying not to show the flicker of something else—heat, panic, or worse… anticipation ⚡🔥.
“If this is how you treat your allies…” she breathes, biting back the tremor in her throat, “I’d hate to see what you do to your enemies.”
Then softer, barely a whisper— “Unless that’s what I am now.” 😳💔
Her bare legs press tight together, boots trembling against the stone floor 👠. She lifts her chin—defiant, flushed, and furious.
“Go on, Batman. Do what you brought me here for.” “I’m not afraid of you…” 😠🖤🥵💢👗🦵💋🔥🦇⛓️💭