#AND DICK SOOOOO WOULD

[everwalldigan]

I love hitting characters with the trans beam but I love it even more when the implications of that are 10 times funnier than their presumed cis identities. EXHIBIT A: Richard “Dick” Grayson.

Dick, filing his legal documents with Bruce: okay you’re gonna scratch that name and write down “Richard”. But everyone will call me Dick

Bruce: …are you sure about that

Dick: did I stutter

Bruce: it’s a… really outdated name chum the kids at school aren’t gonna be nice about it

Dick: I. don’t. Care. Are you gonna write that down or should I go do the paperwork with the WE lawyers tomorrow?

Bruce: okay okay fine… if that’s what makes you happy…

Dick: this is gonna be the funniest thing I have ever done in my life

[feyburner]

Concept: The Gotham Citizen app has a forum for posting candid photos of vigilantes and there’s an ongoing phenomenon where photos of Tim are impossibly gorgeous no matter the angle and photos of Dick (one of the most beautiful people in the entire world) look like when you take high-speed photos of Olympic athletes mid-sport

[awhoreintheory]

After reading about Tim Drake being Tony Stark’s variant made want to tell you the thought that popped in my head.

Here me out:

Barbara Gordon is May Parker. 👀

BARBARA AS MAY????

This one lowkey has some SPICE. Imagine the classic library scene of Peter meeting Babs, except, no fucking way, that's his aunt.

Extra spice if it's post dead aunt may. Conflicted spice if she's technically still alive in his home dimension. Because, while Peter may try to differentiate the woman who has his aunts face and fiery red hair, she's not his actual aunt. Except, what makes her any different from his aunt? Her memory is wiped, she doesn't even know she ever had a nephew to begin with. If anything, this librarian with her face has more memories of Peter than his real aunt. Imagine how badly that'd hurt.

Imagine Peter giving in to spending more and more time with Barbara, whose his aunts alternate self. He helps around the library as a part time job, and he jokes around with her, and she even teaches him a thing or two about coding.

You could ofc tag on a Richard = Dick for even MORE spice. because imagine the batfamily going from hearing about Barbara's protege that's attached to her hip, who literally picked a fight with 4 guys for being assholes to her, is also Dick's son??? Then is goes from Barbara having sole custody to split custody with Dick. Peter more or less notices Dick mother henning him, for lack of better words, but doesn't do much to stop it. What can he say? Alfred's cooking is one hell of a bonus.

Could be crack or angst/comfort and I LIVE for that

[littlefankingdom]

"Tim's brothers check on him often to be sure he didn't became evil/insane."

Wrong. Tim is the one checking on every other batfam members to make sure they didn't became evil or insane, because that's always been his role. And also, y'all are really overestimating Tim's "craziness" in comparison to his siblings. He tried to make clones of his friends in his grief, okay. But like, the other shit isn't that more insane than any shit the rest of the Batfam has done or gone through. Even in Red Robin, he is acting very much like Bruce, but Bruce has done crazier shit.

Jean-Paul has done a ton of unhinged shit and being borderline evil (tried to murder Bruce multiple times, Dick and Tim) and Tim was in charge of monitoring him. Dick often switches fast from fine and cool-headed to angry and jumping into a fight, and Tim is often right by trying (and failing) to keep him in check. When Bruce is a fugitive for murder, when Tim tries to explain why he thinks Bruce could have done it, Dick loses his marbles on him, yells at him that he doesn’t deserve to be either his brother or Robin, and has to leave because he was ready to hit that kid (he confesses to Barbara that he wanted to hit Tim). And there are all the time they think Bruce got killed, where Dick jumps to attack like a rabid dog, totally forgetting about the people around and Tim, who has to try to stop him and save the situation. And Tim checking on Bruce. And Tim checking on Jason and Damian is less commun, but it does happen. And Tim not being able to handle Cass too.

That meme of the guy struggling while holding multiple people with leashes? That Tim with the Batfam.

Nobody is thinking Tim is going to become insane, he is the one supposed to stop them from becoming insane.

[mikakuna]

i don't think we talk enough about how genuinely fucked it was that people called in to vote on a child character's death. like yeah he's fictional but also what the fuck

[zuzuzuko]

hopefully other comic runs will just continue to ignore whatever the fuck Zdarsky is doing because the whole batfam moving in with Bruce is such a cringe idea

[justgleekout]

Blaine looked up at his boyfriend, his mouth agape. “I never thought you’d like to bottom,” he said in a breathy voice.

“Only with you,” Kurt panted.

Full artwork on Ao3

[twistpixel]

I feel like as a Jason liker I have to sit it out because obviously Jason is just straight up killing people and this is not about that BUT I do like roll my eyes when people are like “Bruce is just a normal parent who doesn’t want his kids to kill people” verbatim because he is NOT normal I don’t have the panels to prove it so just trust but Bruce very much deviates from what the average parent would want their kid to do in terms of sacrificing themselves. Like if we take a “there are no lose-lose situations there’s always a silver lining” view many parents silver lining would be that their kid came home to them and Bruce’s would be that at least his kid died not a murderer. This sounds like Bruce hate but it isn’t

[fourswords]

"blue would hate shadow" WRONG did you people even SEE how devastated he was when shadow died. blue's entire THING is going "ARGH WHATEVER I DON'T CARE" and then he proceeds to care so fucking deeply about everything. RED, on the other hand, ABSOLUTELY has a precedent for pulling some shit like. idk. locking shadow in a room full of light energy (or something like that) and then when the other three links are yelling at him to let shadow out he's just like "oh but isn't it so much more peaceful around here like this? teehee!!! :3 alright alright i'm just kidding!! i'll let him out now <3" like that little shit didn't even have the barest minimum of a REACTION when shadow died and he canonically holds grudges even if it's not for very long. blue and shadow would not be at each other's throats bro shadow would be hiding behind blue every time red comes into his line of sight for at least a week and a half because red keeps smiling and waving at him in a manner that somehow manages to be both cheerful and threatening at once. except nobody notices it but shadow so blue thinks he's fucking nuts but keeps letting him hide behind him anyway

[lemon-russ]

I can't live anymore. All I think about is fictional man dick. I really need to start socialising and stop writing. I visited my hometown and one of my childhood friends brought up some of my crushes. I felt comfortable enough to go on a rant about 40k putting emphasis on how hot are the Astartes and the Primarchs. After I ran out of breath, my friend said "You really haven't changed". Memories fucking hit me like a truck at that moment. As a 14-year-old, I fell in love almost daily with celebrities or characters from books and video games. It's just that those feelings turned sexual when I got older. I am in bed currently, remembering one time when I was 17, after my first breakup, crying my ass off not because of my ex but because I knew any of the men I simped for wouldn't do that. I calmed down by writing and reading some very fluffy fanfics about War from Darksiders. In 4 weeks, I got over the break up and fell in love with Woods from the old Black Ops series. I guess I was always 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

Anon.

Anon. *takes you by the shoulders*

I used to carry around and sleep with an Itachi Uchiha plush like it was my lawfully wedded husband. When I was like 13 I cried because Itachi Uchiha from Naruto was not and could never be a real person.

I remember breaking up with my highschool girlfriend and thinking "if (fictional woman i dont even remember who at this point) was real SHE wouldn't have done that"

I had a hand drawn pillowcase (drawn by my best friend who was also so mentally ill with me) of a niche Utau (knockoff vocaloid) character that I thought I lost in the wash and cried so hard I almost threw up.

Im putting myself on blast here but yeah no I get you LMFAO I've always been Not Good about fictional people ✨️ you're among unwell friends here hahahaha

[pattydia]

for the post about fic prompts in the inbox - maybe something about tappert? 👀

It’s not something Eugene mentions to the others as he’s recounting the story — its likely something he’ll take to his early grave — but when he first found Tappert sitting there, stock-still and smiling, surrounded with viscera and blonde hair dyed red, he hadn’t felt frightened, or disgusted, not really. Just sorry. Sorry in the way that he feels sorry for the emaciated dogs who descend on the cold battlefield like vultures to lap up the gore, their ribs showing through patches of burnt, hairless skin.

Because Tappert is the smallest guy in the squadron, stature-wise, but his raucous laugh and go-to-hell drawl and skill with a gun all give him the wherewithal of a much larger man. But when Eugene knelt beside him in the dirt, turned to mud by blood and piss, he had looked like a child. Pink-cheeked. Skin and bones. As if Eugene could have folded him inside his coat and carried him away from the wreckage.

So Eugene hadn’t felt frightened until Tappert held up his hands, big and bruised and pulpy, and said your move. He hadn’t felt frightened until he saw the red string laced between his fingers, a child’s plaything, delicate and complex and impossible to recreate alone.

Hey, he’d said, voice thick and faraway sounding, Tappert. Come on. It’s alright. You’re alright.

He wasn’t alright, of course, but Eugene didn’t know it then.

Now, in the attic, Tappert looks the same as he did on the day he killed all those boys. Fragile. Folded into himself. Eyes enormous and wet and gleaming. Eugene looks at his dirty, freckled face and swallows dryly and feels ill.

My father was a milkman, Tappert is saying. My mother was my dead mother, now a memory. When he grabs Eugene by the collar Eugene can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, heavy with the scent of dirt and rot.

“Are you sick?” Eugene asks, pressing a palm into Tappert’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Quit your worrying,” Tappert drawls thickly. “You sound like my wife, nancy boy.”

“You’re married?” Eugene didn’t know that. He doesn’t know much of anything about the guy, even now.

“Not anymore,” Tappert says, grinning. It’s not a nice smile; his eyes are fixed and glazed. “She died with my baby in ‘er belly.”

“Oh, god.” Eugene looks at the ground so he doesn’t have to look at Tappert’s twisted face. “I’m so … sorry.”

“You know God don’t love us, right?” Tappert continues, bony fingers hooking beneath Eugene’s chin and lifting it so they’re nose to nose. Eugene shivers wildly. “You’re dyin’ for your country and He still don’t love you, turtledove.”

Eugene nods. They’re so close that he can smell Tappert’s sour breath, can see the stains on his teeth from years of cigarettes and weak coffee and bile.

“I know.”

This answer pleases Tappert; he pats Eugene on the cheek. His eyes spark.

“That’s good. Real good. Now take off those fuckin’ glasses, pet. Lemme see your face.” Tappert’s voice is low, lower than Eugene has ever heard it.

Eugene’s stomach twists. He feels his face go hot and red.

“Tappert, come on. You’re sick. You’ve got a fever, you’re not well, lay down.” He thinks of calling down to the others for help. He thinks of the rifle slung across Tappert’s lap.

“I’m right as rain,” Tappert says, still grinning. He reaches up and takes the glasses off himself; Eugene hears them clatter to the rotting attic floor.

“What are you —“ Eugene asks, heart jackrabbiting in his sternum, mouth filling with saliva.

“There,” Tappert interrupts, licking his lips. Self-satisfied and cruel. “Knew it. Pretty as a picture, you are.”

“I don’t ��” Eugene can’t think. Tappert’s gaze is so intense, pupils blown, tear tracks shining pink and clean through the dirt on his cheeks. Eugene is distantly aware of something terrible happening under his own kit, below the belt.

“God don’t love us,” Tappert repeats, “so it ain’t like you gotta worry about fallin’ out of His favor.”

“Tappert,” Eugene says thickly. “I’m not —“

“Christ,” Tappert groans, irritated, hands massive and deft on the tarnished buttons of Eugene’s jacket. “Neither am I. It’s wartime, pet.” He laughs like that explains it, explains everything. The noise goes right between Eugene’s legs.

Tappert puts down the rifle and gets on his knees. Eugene wonders if he’s hallucinating as Tappert hooks purple fingertips beneath his waistband. Eugene wonders if he’s snapped, fully and finally, when he feels Tappert’s mustache scrape over the skin below his navel.

Tappert reaches into Eugene’s military-issued trousers and takes his dick out; Eugene stares at the ceiling and tries to quiet his breathing. Tappert’s calloused palm is so hot around him that it feels like a brand.

“Oh,” Eugene breathes, and Tappert laughs.

“Anybody ever did this to you before?” Tappert doesn’t wait for an answer; instead, he seals his mouth around the head of Eugene’s dick.

Nobody ever had done it to Eugene before, so the feeling — warm and wet and tight as any woman — forces a shout from him, makes his hands come down and grip frantically at the thick wool of Tappert’s cap.

Tappert makes a little snorting noise and when Eugene dares to look down his shining eyes are crinkled like he’s laughing. His lips are red and his ruddy cheeks are hollowed and he’s gazing at Eugene through his thick blanket of eyelashes as he works his head up and down.

Eugene’s hips buck up; he can’t help it. He can feel himself hit the back of Tappert’s soft palate and the hum that vibrates through him as he gags.

“Jesus Christ,” Eugene whispers. He reaches down and thumbs a tear off of Tappert’s shining face. He feels numb. He feels like he’s watching himself from the corner of the room. He thinks of acrid smoke and bombs and the sounds men make before they die. He thinks of skinny dogs and red string and blonde curls on detached heads. He digs his fingernails into his palms and comes down Tappert’s wet throat.

“There we go,” Tappert says afterwards as he gets up off the floor, wiping his swollen lips. “It’s alright. Don’t you cry, turtledove.”

Tappert shoulders his rifle and disappears down the creaking staircase. Eugene reaches up to wipe his face. His fingers come away wet.

[pfctipper]

where was the bastogne musical number

[silverchainbee]

Growing up is revisiting Kingdom Hearts in my 20s and realising that Riku had the better character arc and was a much more complex and detailed character after being a serious Sora girl for years.

[umbrellajam]

sure would be nice. if people could debunk a dumb exaggerated/incorrect fanon without people immediately turning it 180° and happily hauling ass right into another dumb exaggerated/incorrect fanon. while gleefully crowing about how canon and correct this opposite take is.

sure would be nice 🙃

[pastempomat]

if i was born with a penis i would be unstoppable and that's a quite popular opinion amongst people who know me irl

[gift-of-prophecy]

i think my boygirlisms would charm him i’m being so serious