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[sheep-from-rad]

♯ I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO MY DAD . . . for teaching me everything he knows ( dick grayson & jason todd as dads ! )

— fem!reader as mom, fluff, not edited, based on this req.!!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

dick was always great with kids; his natural warmth, patience, and humor made him a magnet for them, even before he became a father. he often thought back to his days as robin, remembering how bruce wayne took him in and gave him stability, and he wanted to offer that same feeling ( and definitely more ) to his children.

when you two first talked about having kids, he was equal parts excited and nervous about it. dick worried about balancing family life with his vigilante responsibilities, but he couldn’t wait to start a family with you. he knew that no matter what, you’d face it together

your first child, a boy, inherits your husband’s bright energy and natural charisma. from the moment your son was born, dick was a hands-on dad. midnight feedings? no problem. diaper changes? a breeze ( well, almost ). he approached fatherhood the same way he approached everything else—with passion and a healthy dose of humor

he’s not just the dad who builds the coolest blanket forts or makes pancakes shaped like bats; he’s the dad who listens, encourages, and shows up, no matter how tired he might be after a long night of patrol. even when exhaustion clings to him like a second skin, his kids come first. if his son wants to show him the new drawing he made, dick will sit down and marvel at it as if it belongs in a gallery. if his daughter has a nightmare, he’s at her bedside in seconds, stroking her hair and whispering how she’s okay and nothing’s gonna hurt her while he’s here until she drifts back to sleep

he’s the dad who remembers every detail about his kids’ lives—their favorite bedtime stories, their least favorite vegetables, the songs that make them smile—and makes sure they feel seen and heard every single day. when he’s with them, he’s fully present, setting aside his worries about blüdhaven or the weight of his world. to them, he’s not nightwing; he’s just dad, their safe place, the person they know will always be there no matter what

he teaches your son how to ride a bike, holding the seat steady as those wobbly first attempts make an appearance. “you’ve got this!” dick encourages his son, jogging beside him. when the first scrape happens—knees meeting pavement in a blur of surprise and pain—he’s there in an instant, crouching down with the kind of gentle urgency only a dad can master

his strong arms wrap around his son in a hug that says, i’ve got you, even as tears well up in the young eyes. he’s quick with jokes to soothe the sting, brushing dirt and pebbles off tiny palms. “hey, you know what? you’re officially a biker now. all the pros have scars to prove it.”

it doesn’t matter if he’s running on just a few hours of sleep or if his legs are sore from the night before. he’ll stay on that sidewalk all afternoon if it means helping his son find the courage to get back on the bike

when your daughter is born, it’s as if a new light ignites in dick’s heart, one that’s softer and warmer than anything he’s ever felt before. from the moment he holds her—tiny, delicate, and swaddled in pastel pink—he’s utterly smitten by the baby. his breath catches in his throat as her little fingers curl instinctively around one of his. it’s the smallest thing, but to him, it’s everything. he gazes at her with an awe that rivals the first time he stood under a gotham sunrise after a long patrol as robin

every little thing she does—every yawn, every sleepy coo, even the way she scrunches her nose—melts him completely. he’s the first to volunteer for late-night feedings, cradling her against his chest while whispering soft lullabies. “it’s okay, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, as if the sound of it alone could shield her from the world

she’s the spitting image of you, but she’s got dick’s sense of curiosity and mischief. as she grows, it’s clear she’s a daddy’s girl through and through. dick spoils her with affection, often carrying her on his shoulders or letting her “style” his hair, even if it means showing up to patrol with hair ties

she’s the one who always convinces him to stay for “just one more bedtime story,” and dick can never say no to those puppy eyes. he does all the voices, acting out scenes with a dramatic flair that leaves her giggling uncontrollably

family movie nights are a regular occurrence. dick lets the kids pick the movie, even if it means sitting through the same animated film for the fifth time. he doesn’t mind—he’s just happy to have everyone snuggled up together

. . . JASON TODD !

jason never thought he’d be a dad. gotham wasn’t kind to kids, and in his darker moments, he felt like it had swallowed the boy he used to be whole. he worried his own traumas—nights spent cold and hungry on the streets, the ache of betrayal, the sting of abandonment—might cast shadows over the kind of father he’d want to be. how could he teach love and trust when his world had been built on survival and second chances?

the thought of holding a child, so small and fragile, scared him more than any villain ever could. what if he didn’t have it in him to be the kind of dad they deserved? what if his sharp edges cut too deep, or worse, he failed to protect them from the city that had failed him? jason had spent so long fighting his way through life that the idea of creating a safe, warm space for someone else felt like trying to plant flowers in a wasteland. and yet, the thought of building something good—something untouchable by gotham’s darkness—stirred a longing in him he couldn’t ignore.

when you told him you were pregnant with your first child, he was stunned silent for a solid minute. then came the slight tremble in his hands as he cradled your face and whispered, “we’re really doing this?” you swore you saw tears in his eyes, though he’d deny it later

he threw himself into preparing for fatherhood. between patrols, you’d catch him reading baby books, jotting down notes in that same serious way he planned missions. ( “what the hell is a diaper genie, baby? is it a genie for diapers, or does it genie them away?” )

when your first daughter was born, jason held her for the first time with an awe. he whispered promises to her, things like, “you’ll never go through what i did,” and “i’m gonna give you the world, princess.”

jason’s daughters own him. his rough, serious ide of personality melts into a puddle of mush when they so much as giggle at him. one pouty face, and he’s done for

when they’re little, he becomes a human jungle gym. they’ll climb all over him, pull on his hair, and stick stickers all over his face while he sits patiently, letting them “decorate” him. ( “you’re turning me into a unicorn, huh? cool. just don’t let your mom take pictures—too late? figures.” )

as they grow, he keeps a close eye on everything, from their friends to the neighborhoods they walk through. he’s not overbearing but has serious dad-radar. if they so much as mention a creepy guy or a mean teacher, he’s all, “do i need to handle this? no? you sure? okay, but say the word.”

by age eight, they’ve both mastered basic self-defense, thanks to “daddy’s fun time karate sessions.” he makes it a game—lots of laughter and encouragement—but underneath it, he’s deadly serious

when they’re older, he teaches them how to change a tire, handle their own money, and, much to your exasperation, how to throw a punch. ( “jason, they don’t need to know how to disarm a grown man at ten years old!” “baby, it’s gotham. yes, they do.” )

he’s the kind of dad who makes pancake breakfasts on weekends, complete with smiley faces and way too much syrup

on father’s day, his daughters surprise him with handmade cards every year. jason’s tough demeanor cracks every time he reads their scrawled messages: “daddy, you’re my hero.”

and jason as a father to teenage girls? lord, help us all.

when his eldest goes on her first date, he plays it cool—for all of two seconds. he grills the poor kid with subtle threats hidden behind a charming smile. ( “so, you like my daughter? good. treat her right, or you’ll have a real bad night. understand?” )

you have to remind him not to tail them when they go out. “jason, they’ll know you’re following them.” “i’ll stay a block behind. they’ll never see me.”

but despite his overprotectiveness, he’s their anchor during tough times. when they experience their first heartbreaks, he is there with hugs, ice cream, and the kind of pep talks that make them laugh through their tears. “anyone who doesn’t see how amazing you are isn’t worth crying over. you’re the todd girl. we don’t settle for less.”

deep down, jason worries about failing them. he knows what it’s like to lose everything, and the thought of his girls experiencing even a fraction of that makes his stomach churn

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tap out.

simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.

based on this.

simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.

in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.

but simon is an orphan now.

there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.

over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.

the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.

he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.

maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.

no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.

still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.

then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.

it’s you.

you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.

you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.

—you. you. you.

and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.

he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.

you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.

he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.

and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.

with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.

then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.

in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.

his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.

‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.

his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.

you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’

and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.

. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well. read part 2 here.

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ASMO?!

OUR BOYS ARE BACK IN STYLE!!! 💜💜💜

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Gotta keep a straight face u guys

based on this post

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Haircuts

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Discowing

Batman, Nightwing & Jason Robin Commission by @jackhawksmoor

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Teen dad Bruce(19y.o.) and Dick (8 y.o.) is my favorite thing

Bruce still being in College (med student) and deciding to adopt Dick just cause he can.Alfred is tired of the utter chaos these two bring Their dynamic is more like the Lego Batman movie more than anything honestly (they mean so much to meee)

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Okay, jumping jacks made it better + water

I woke up and it's 3 am and I can't breathe.

*checks heartrate*

Heart rate at 41 bmp

Well shit. Time for walks

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has this been done already

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More teen dad Bruce and baby Dick!!

Ask and I shall serve🙏

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I woke up and it's 3 am and I can't breathe.

*checks heartrate*

Heart rate at 41 bmp

Well shit. Time for walks

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Gail Simone I love you more than you will ever know

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The days of Jack Frost x Elsa lmao

this modern day fandom culture is killing me because we’re losing the art of shipping

these days you have to publish a dissertation and make a 100 page powerpoint with textual and subtextual evidence to back up the fact that you like seeing two characters together because apparently people can only ship what’s canon now

back in my day we used to be able to ship characters who never interacted,

we used to ship characters that didn’t even exist within the same media

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youtube content in the dc universe

sequel

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the people wanted more youtube worldbuilding ^^

previous post

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The justice league sees Batman periodically updating a database of his, at the oddest of times, and naturally they think it's got something to do with his contingency plans or a dataset about the Gotham rogues, but in reality it's just him keeping record of his many children's changing tastes

Superman: Woah, he's writing down with such concentration, wonder what could be in there, maybe a new villain in Gotham?

Bruce, writing: "Dick has refused his favourite Pb&J five mornings in a row. Delete from favourites. Ask for new favourite food."

"Jason didn't seem as Eager to read the new book by his favourite author, put it in neutral category."

"Tim chose a green shirt instead of a red one at the mall today. More research needed."

"Cass listened to arctic monkeys on repeat this week. Update to favourites."

"Duke expressed an interest in slam poetry and called band practice lame. Put poetry in favourites and band in neutral."

"Damian watched Bluey for a total of 50 hours this week. Update to favourites."

[sheep-from-rad]

There is a new farmer in town

Warnings: none

Your grandfather has passed away and thus, the you inherited his farm.

You had left the soul-eating office job at the Joja cooperation behind and took the farm as a new beginning.

You then moved to a town named Pelican.

But first things first, the farm needed a name.

You decided to name it Gothic Farm as you live next to Gotham now.

Might as well blend in with the bleak and monotone mix of colours that Gotham was.

The current mayor of Pelican town, Lewis, welcomed you and you talked a bit about your late grandfather. Apparently, your grandfather had been acting strange in his last months on earth but perhaps that was just the decline of an old mind.

Anyways, you were now the new farmer in town.

You wrote down in your notebook:

Introduce yourself to the neighbours

However, the first thing you did is to get rid of the weeds that overcrowded your ground.

It's noon when you cleared out a big enough area to start creating your first farm area. And that you did.

Afterwards, you decided it is time to buy some seeds and to introduce yourself to anyone that you can find.

The first one you met is the local store owner Pierre, where you also buy some seeds.

Pierre: You must be the new farmer. If you're looking for seeds, my shop is the place to go. Thankfully, we are not as crime ridden as the city next to us, so you don't have to worry about anyone vandalising your fields.

You gave him a short nod and are soon on your way.

You aren't from Gotham but you have heard some things about the city. Mostly bad things.

You were on your way back to the farm as you stumbled across Harvey.

Harvey: Oh, I am sorry for blocking your path. I'm Harvey, the local doctor. It's a pleasure to meet you. Be careful outside at night. We aren't crime ridden but your farm is really close to Gotham.

You thanked the doctor for his advice and are soon back on your farm.

You planted the first seeds, cleaned up the farm some more and then headed to bed.

You were about to fall asleep when you heared sounds from your farm. You still and listen.

At first it sounded like a wild animal but soon you could make out muffled cursing.

That was definitely a human outside on your farm.

You got up and silently moved to your window. You looked outside to try and see who it is.

??: Can anyone hear me? I am stranded... GPS is broken. I don't know where I am... Anyone?

You heard a male voice outside but he's hidden in the shadows of your farm. But the man sounded distressed and in need for help.

You put on your shoes and decided to open your door.

Farmer: Hello? Is anyone there?

You looked outside through the gap of your opened door. You regret that you didn't craft some torches to spend light.

Farmer: Hello?

You tried again and eventually you could make out movement close to your field. A man in a ... suit was standing there, pressing a hand to his left side.

??: Someone lives here? I... I'm fine. Go back inside.

He demanded but his voice sounds weak and was filled with exhaustion. His voice also sounded slightly distorted.

Farmer: You don't sound alright... What are you doing here? You're not... a criminal, right?

The man huffed amused but it sounded more like a pained wheeze.

??: I'm not a criminal. I'm Red Robin, a hero... I shouldn't be here.

He, Red Robin, explained and walked a few steps towards you. However, is legs gave in and he let out a short yell in pain as he fell to the ground.

You ran over and caught his upper half just before he fell unconscious.