#Peter x Stephanie

[harmonizingsunsets]

“This is all your fault, Spankoffski! I just wanted to cheat off a geek. I didn’t want to like you, you made me.”

[stimboardsforstarkid]

Lautski Stimboard ✴

With Star Stims

Requested by anon ❉

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[animangalover-writes]

Michie nation and Richie lovers, whats the general consensus on the whole "Paul is Richies uncle and he lives with him" headcanon? Like why doesn't he live with his parents? I'm curious what you all think.

This goes for Pete and Ted too, if you're like me and imagine them living together and not with their parents.

[im-just-vibing-at-this-point]

Hi can someone start writing lautski soulmate fanfics please and thank you

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

Writing fanfiction isn't enough anymore I need that character to kiss me breathless

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x Gn! Reader

Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 (You're here)

Chapter 5

"Hey Dick" Bruce called to his oldest son when he saw him in the kitchen while he was preparing a bowl of cereal

"Yeah Bruce?" Dick answered but his attention was still on his cereal

"Have you heard from (Name)?" the eldest asked

"Uh..." he kept thinking, remembering who you were until something finally clicked in his mind "Oh yeah! No, I haven't heard from them, maybe in their room?" he suggested, not giving it any importance

"Yeah, that would be the most logical answer if they hadn't moved" Bruce sighed

"What?" for the first time Dick turned to look at him surprised

"Yeah... They've been gone for a while now" Bruce explained

"But why?" Dick asked

"Well... I have to admit that I haven't been the best father to them..." he said a little embarrassed

"Oh Bruce..." Dick was about to start scolding him

"I really don't need you to scold me right now" Bruce growled

"Fine..." Dick sighed and stood up "And why are you looking for them?"

"I need to talk to them about everything" he explained "And... and apologize to them for all these years"

Dick didn't like to see any of his family sad or stressed like Bruce.

And yet he never noticed you

So he put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed him a little to try and comfort him.

"I'll help you look for them. Have you checked their room yet?"

"Yeah I already checked it and there's nothing, literally speaking" Bruce sighed

"Well maybe you missed something. You're not the only one in the family who's a detective" he smiled and the older man smiled back

"Thanks, chum" he patted him on the back affectionately

"You're welcome, old man" Then both men separated to look for the missing family member

Dick pulled out his phone and sent a message to the chat group he had with his brothers.

In which you were not included of course

Asking for a quick little meeting, that way, if everyone helped look for you all this would end quickly and they could make it up to you. Even though Dick didn't say it, knowing that you had left and hadn't told anyone and adding the fact that he now felt guilty because he paid you a lot (nothing) of attention.

"Let me understand Dickhead so..." Jason spoke "You called us, saying that this was urgent just to tell us to help you and Bruce look for (Name)?"

To tell the truth, everyone thought it was silly that Dick called them, you were a teenager, most likely you were doing something outside the mansion, you would return home soon.

"I'm sorry to tell you this Dick but, I think you're exaggerating" said Tim

"For the first time I can agree with Drake" said Damian "I have more important things to do than looking for them"

"I know, I know, but this is urgent not only for Bruce but for me too" said Dick "And why are you looking for them?" asked Stephanie

"Look..." Dick sighed "They... they... they left the mansion and Bruce Is nervous"

"They left? Why?" asked Tim

"Did you call them?" asked Cassandra

"Bruce tried but it seems they changed their number" Dick sighed

"You didn't answer Tim's question" said Jason "Why did they leave?"

"Perhaps because they never felt part of this family, Master Jason" said a voice behind them, it was Alfred who had been listening to the little meeting

"Huh? Why do you say that Pennyworth?" asked Damian

"Oh it is probably because you just decided to ignore them since they came to the mansion" said Alfred as if it was obvious

"Hey! That's not true, I used to spend time with them" Jason defended himself

"And then what happened, Master Jason?" asked Alfred and looked at him a little irritated

"Uhh... I died and then came back from the dead...?" laughed Jason nervously

"Nonsense" said Alfred and then left Jason sighed and stood up.

"How do we help, Dick?"

Jason felt like a complete jerk. How could he have pushed you aside? You were still a child for God's sake! And yet he didn't care and pushed you aside when he came back from the dead, being more focused on his revenge against Bruce and Tim. He also felt a little proud, proud that he was always the closest to you, even if it has been a while SInce then. He remembers how you looked at him in admiration in his days as Robin, how your eyes lit up when he did a stunt and how you followed him around the mansion like you were a duckling. Alfred had even taken a picture of you following him around. The simple memory made him smile. He should ask Alfred if he still has the photo. He was in your room, inspecting it like it was a crime scene but he had to admit, you were Bruce's child. This room was completely clean and it looked like no one had lived in it for years if it weren't for the fact that the walls were painted (f/c). It was like If you didn't want to be found. That made Jason let out a small chuckle, you would have been a great vigilante, if only they had given you the chance. He shook his head, trying to get those negative thoughts out of his mind and focus on his search instead. He checked every corner of your room and nothing. It seemed like you just vanished.

"Shit!" He slammed his fist on the floor as he crouched down, checking under your bed. "Where the fuck are you?”

"Keep checking their room, Master Jason?" said a voice behind him, it was Alfred who was looking at him with the same neutral face.

"Yeah," Jason sighed and stood up.

After a few seconds of silence, Jason turned to look at Alfred and asked:

"Alfred... Do you happen to have the photo you took of (Name) and me when we were kids? The one where they followed me like a duckling?”

"Yes, I have the photo, Master Jason, but I can show you more. Please follow me," said the butler as he turned around and left the room.

Jason looked at him in surprise, but without saying anything he followed him. They reached the attic of the great mansion. There were millions of boxes in that place in which they had different things that belonged to the inhabitants of Wayne Manor. Alfred began to move some boxes until he took out a specific one that had your name on it.

"What is this?" Jason asked.

"This is a box, Master Jason" Alfred said as he handed him the box.

"And it contains some things that used to belong to (Name)”

Jason looked at the box in amazement, it didn't weigh much but it didn't weigh little either but it seemed well preserved despite the time.

"Thank you Alfred" he said and then came down from the attic with the box in his arms.

Jason walked into the living room so he could see the contents of the box without any problem. He didn't know where to start but decided to grab a long but thin book. When he saw the cover his eyes widened in surprise, because that book was a photo album.

On the first pages of the album there were ultrasound images that started from the third month. There was even a 3D ultrasound in which you could see the baby's face. Jason smiled at the image and ran his fingers over the photo. He remembered your smile, it was tender and warm and always relaxed him after a hard mission or a fight with Bruce.

On the next page there was information about your birth, your weight and height and other information. There was also a compartment in which there was a small sock that would only fit a newborn baby. The young man smiled more when he saw that small garment that used to be yours, he put it back in the small compartment of the book and continued exploring. From that page, there were photos, the first ones were of your mother and another man, your mother was sitting on the hospital bed with the man next to her while he held you. Both adults looked completely happy while you slept. In another picture you were in the arms of your mother who looked tired but no less happy, the background of the picture seemed to be a baby's room. And in a third one you were in the arms of that man again, he was lifting you up in the air while you laughed, the man laughing in the same way. Jason could imagine the sound of your laughter at that age and it just made his heart beat a little faster.

He kept looking at more pictures of you, your first steps, playing with some pet you had back then, eating (although it was actually a mess but he found it cute) and then there was the picture of your first birthday, you were still so small, but you could see the excitement on your face when you saw the candle on your birthday cake, next to you your mother and that man again. He should have Tim investigate who that man was.

Jason kept looking at pictures of your first years of life, your first Christmas, your first Halloween, your first day at daycare, your first friends. Throughout the album you could see how you were growing up full of happiness, well that was until you got to the photo of your fourth birthday. From that photo on, your mother and that man didn't appear anymore, but instead there were photos of your arrival at Wayne Manor.

At first there were only photos of the great mansion and its hallways, the beautiful handwriting that was written in the previous titles was replaced by that of a small child. Throughout the following pages there were only photos of the property and the animals and there was only one photo where you appeared but now with Alfred, both smiling. You got to the photo of your fifth birthday, thinking that it was Bruce or Dick in that photo but it seems that wasn't the case. You were five, six, seven, eight years old and in your birthday photos there were only you and Alfred, that didn't seem to change despite time. On the next page, Jason was surprised to find pictures of him and you, it was when he had just become Robin and spent a lot of time with you, from photos where Jason was training, cooking with Alfred, reading, and even him teaching you how to fight. Even though those photos were extremely beautiful in his eyes, his favorite had to be the photo in which he appeared with Alfred and (Name) at his 9th birthday party. He smiled at the photograph and took it in his hands, being honest, he didn't remember that until he saw the photo again and your smile made Jason's heart flutter again. With more energy he began to look at the album and each time he appeared less in the photos until he reached your 10th birthday, but he was no longer there, again it was just Alfred and you.

"What...? No no no no no..." Jason muttered agitatedly as he looked through the album

He wasn't in any pictures anymore, nor was his family, it was just you and Alfred again and on more occasions it seemed like more people he didn't know, probably your friends.

"Fuck!" he yelled in frustration and put his face in his hands

Did he really just push you aside so foolishly? No... He had to fix it.

After all HE was your favorite brother

And HE was going to make it up to you

He was going to make it up to you for all those years he left you alone

And he was going to find you, after all, he was trained by the world's greatest detective.

How hard can It be finding you?

Hello! First of all... HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you all have a wonderful 2025! And of course I wanted to thanks to all of those people that have supported this story even If it has been just a couple of months.

Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Personally I think it was kinda short but to be honest I didn't had a bunch time to write but oh well.

If you have questions about the story, a comment (respectfully) or even ideas I would be more than happy to know or answer them in any case.

I send all of you a big hug!

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

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[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[insomiaepisode]

"*insert marvel character, usually Peter* in gotham!" WHY DO THE DC CHARACTERS NEVER GO TO THE MARVEL UNIVERSE.

Like I know 9/10 any dc crossover is more like a batman crossover even when it would be much more interesting to see it with any of the other hundreds of DC characters, but can we get some variation? Would it not be interesting to see how they handle NYC's numerous villains and vigilantes?

Just a thought...

[some-rotten-nest]

Thanksgiving at the Fenton house was... Something. Danny did his best to avoid it, in short. It wasn't exactly Christmas; but it wasn't nice either.

Gotham was a good place for him to escape to, right? A flight there and back once Thanksgiving was over, no issue.

He didn't mean to get kidnapped by billionaires for an even weird Thanksgiving, okay Jazz?!

He'd just been out and about, doing nothing really, when this person came up to him and began to drag him by the ear, talking something about how "If I have to attend this, so do you!"

Being startled, he couldn't string the sentence he was looking for together and ended up being dragged to a---... Manor. Because of course it was. Rich people.

"So, how's everything?" A different black haired, blue eyed boy asked, eye bags heavier than Danny's.

"Oh! Actually, Jay, I left my shirt at your place when I got shot, any chance you brought it with?" The other black-haired, blue eyed guy asked, twirling his fork in his hand.

And he was looking at Danny.

Thank Ancients, the oldest person-- parent? He didn't know-- jumped in, sounding so tired, "Can we not talk about work at the table?" Then turned to Danny again, "And thank you for joining us this year, Jason."

"I had to drag him here!" The blonde who dragged him here Interrupted, "Why don't I get any thanks? Discrimination, Bruce. This is discrimination."

"I'd appreciate it very much if you didn't shout at the table, Miss Brown," The very oldest person said, placing a plate on the table.

Alright-- enough was enough, Danny needed to leave. This is weird, and he did not want to know why black-haired, blue-eyed guy #2 was shot either.

"Sorry, Alfred--" Blonde (Miss Brown?) said casually.

The sound of the door opening was as loud as a cannon to his ears, but to everyone else at the table, it was normal. Or they were expecting someone else that wasn't who they thought Danny to be.

"IM ONLY HERE FOR THE FOOD--" A voice shouted, "-AND NOTHING ELSE."

Black hair, blue eyes #3 came in, a white streak matching Danny's own in his hair.

All eyes turned to him. Fuck.

[queen-of-arts-nlb]

The cuties <3

[lady-loveluck]

Scene from chapter 16 of A Teenage Werewolf in Hatchetfield!

This one took a while!! I'm happy with the result! For those who hadn't read that fanfic, you SHOULD is one of the best fics I've read, no joke!

[harmonizingsunsets]

Princess Leia told me, I'd just as soon kiss a Wookie.

[stimboardsforstarkid]

Lautski stimboard 𖤓

With rock and school stims

Requested by @python-nebula ◈

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[melaraine]

NPMD SWAP! AU

Max is at it again.. Yes, he tried to punch the ghost afterwards and failed- miserably.

These are the final 3 of this story. I might reveal how the other 2 have met their fates.

Repost because i forgot 2 comic panels- This is fine-

Still, thank you for all the love given to this AU concept. It has made my week! :D

[max-nicoxfandom]

A little snippet based off this post

Tim and Stephanie would both like to preface they know what they're doing is a bad idea. They do not need Duke, who is also listening in, to repeatedly tell them how terrible of an idea this is. He still does anyway, just to make sure he can rub it in when this all backfires later, but really, Tim and Stephanie already know.

They have both just decided to ignore that silly little fact in the name of information gathering.

So here sits Steph and Duke, huddled up in Duke's bedroom in front of Tim's laptop. Tim, meanwhile, is disguised as some random blonde haired, brown eyed kid. His fake backstory is vaguely based off one socialite or another, because even though he can change his tone or his accent, he just can't seem to hide the wealthy sounding lit in his voice.

In the back of his head, Jason and Stephanie's voices overlap. Once a rich boy always a rich boy, they say. Tim shivers.

"The Baby Bird has landed in The Nest." Duke sighs over Tim's com. "I still don't understand why the codenames are necessary."

"You know why they're necessary."

"Ow!"

Tim may not be in the same room as them, but it's not hard to figure out that Stephanie gave Duke a good punch on the arm. If Tim was there himself, he would've done it too. Duke knows that saying Peter's name within a miles range of the manor will cause the entire family to appear.

Duke himself wasn't even originally part of the plan! The only reason he's here is because Steph said Peter's name while they were talking, and then Duke just happened to wander one of the empty rooms in the manor! Seriously, what business did he even have in there?!

"Landing in the nest." Tim whispers. "Muting now."

"Roger that."

He mutes their side of the com, so they can hear everything he hears, but he can't hear them. It can be overridden by the two still at the manor if the need be, but Tim has faith that he at least won't fuck up that bad. Not bad enough for any help Steph can offer to be useful, at least.

He steps inside the coffee shop Peter frequents, oddly enough, it's actually called The Nest, and Tim's favorite cafe. It's the only place he can get their liquid death special, and he's pretty sure the only reason they keep it around is because he always tips at least $200 when he comes.

It makes sense that Peter would also frequent the place since he's his future nephew. Though, it's probably because Tim passed down his coffee habits. A fact that he will elect to keep from Dick so the man doesn't kill him before Peter's born.

Speaking of Peter, he just sat down in the far corner booth. The one that still has ink stained in the old wood, from that time he got a little too frustrated working on a case here. The one that has Dick's lightly carved initials in the side of the table, because when he wants to spend one on one time with Tim he likes to bring him here, knowing he can't say no to their coffee.

It makes him warm, knowing they probably continued the tradition with Peter when he was old enough.

Currently, Peter is tinkering with a futuristic looking watch. His coffee sits a good distance away, an obviously learned behavior, because Tim does the same thing after many many many drinks lost to an unrefined sweep of his arm. He's pulling other pieces out of a good sized black backpack next to him, quickly covering the whole booth in random looking machinery, completely engrossed in his project.

So Tim does what any other self respecting uncle whose nephew doesn't know he's his uncle, would do. He buys his favorite coffee, adjusts the blonde wig by running a seemingly innocuous hand through it, tips the barista, and sits across from his nephew with a smile.

He calls it a win when Peter wearily returns it.

"Sorry if I'm intruding." Tim starts, throwing a little rasp in his voice for the sake of his cover. "I was just curious about what you're... Working on... Looks complicated."

"Oh, it's a uh-- personal project. For my mentor. I'm under strict NDAs."

Tim nods. He wonders if Peter's telling the truth, and if he is, he's sure the NDAs are from WE, it's just a question on who he's referring to as a mentor.

"Ah, that's too bad. Do you mind if I just sit and watch? For curiosity's sake, I mean."

Even to his own ears that sounded suspicious, but he's never been good at improv. That's more Jason and Dick's thing.

Peter, at the very least, doesn't seem to care. He just shrugs and sips his coffee.

In that case, whatever he's working on probably can't be replicated at this point in time. There's probably some big discovery that hasn't been made yet, which makes Tim wonder who made the discovery. He'd bet $50 on himself or Bruce.

Conversation doesn't continue after that, so Tim just sits and observes.

Peter is clearly skilled. He moves with an assured elegance only to be competed with by himself and Jason, since both of them are the most skilled engineers of the family, though in two different fields. It's especially impressive with the eyebags that pull heavily on Peter's face, which he's sure he got from Bruce and not him no siree. Peter did not learn to overwork himself to death from him, that would be unacceptable.

The exhaustion leaks into his whole body. Low shoulders, slow movements, heavy slouching, small periods of zoning out and coming back to himself. He looks a little bit like shit, if Tim were to be fully honest.

At least it will be easier to get information out of him this way. The quicker they get information, the quicker they can send him home, the quicker his family can bundle him up and let him sleep for a week.

"So," Tim cannot help but break the silence. He's an anxious talker. "Your mentor? Is he cool?"

Peter pauses, his eyes slowly dragging up to meet Tim's brown contacts. "He's the best. I spend basically all my time with him nowadays."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He's kinda hard on me, but it's just cuz he cares, y'know? He thinks he's this like- manipulative genius that has somehow fooled me into liking him, but honestly, he's giving himself too much credit. He just doesn't want to accept the fact that he's a good person, or that he's gone soft."

Peter rambles and Tim listens, nodding along as he talks. He's sure Duke and Stephanie are tuned in as well. Between the three of them there's no way they don't at least get some information on how to help him.

"I'm sure your parents are thrilled about that." Tim puts implication in his tone. He's not sure what he's apparently implying, but insinuation tends to make people defensive, and getting defensive makes people talk.

Peter does not get defensive.

"I wouldn't know." He shrugs. "They're not here for me to ask."

"Oh, where are they?" Tim asks, like an idiot.

"Dead."

Tim's whole world may have just crumbled before his eyes. He feels like somebody just crushed his lungs with their barehands, and then stuck them back in, sideways.

The first thought that comes to him is he cannot tell Dick. Under no circumstances can Dick find out. Hell, Tim kinda wishes he hadn't found out.

"I'm sorry for your loss." His throat is dry, the coffee isn't helping.

"Nah, it's alright. They died when I was little, so I don't have a lot of memories of them anyway."

"I-It's still unfortunate." Tim coughs. "So who raised you then? If you don't mind me asking."

A smile overtakes Peter's face. It's warm, loving, and wistful. It makes Peter look five years younger, and that makes Tim's heart clench.

"My uncle and aunt did."

"You look very fond of them."

Peter looks more awake than has this whole time, just the slightest bit bashful. "I am. They're the best."

Tim is having a hard time grasping how utterly crushed he feels, he can only hope it doesn't show on his face as he talks. Maybe he can play it off as being overly sympathetic.

"So it was just you guys then? No other family?"

"Nope." Peter shakes his head. "My uncle didn't really get along with any of them, and after he took me in, my aunt went no contact like he did."

So it was probably Jason who took him in then, which is somehow exactly something he would do and nothing like him at the same time. Tim has to wonder where Bruce was, or himself. And which aunt? Tim bets on Stephanie, but it could've been Cass.

"It sounds like you've lived an interesting life."

"Yeah. I wouldn't trade it for the world though." The truth in those words aches Tim's chest, he feels so winded... Lost, maybe. He almost forgets to listen when Peter continues reminiscing. "My aunt definitely did her fair share to make it interesting. She's basically the fiery redhead stereotype, but she cares a lot about everyone..."

Whatever Peter says next gets lost as Tim sinks into his own thoughts. The aunt is not Cass or Steph, unless one of them has been repeatedly dying their hair for years. Steph might still be on the table, maybe. More likely is Barbara, or possibly even Kori, maybe Roy is trans and hasn't told anyone yet. He'll have to ask Jason when he gets the chance.

Tim regrets his coffee, he thinks he's gonna be sick.

"Are you okay?"

Clearly, Tim is doing a bad job at hiding it.

"Yeah, sorry I need to get back home now, but thanks for keeping me company."

He could have stayed. Probably should have, even. But Tim doesn't think he can stand another moment with that old ink stain in eyesight.

"Oh yeah, it's no problem. I didn't mean to ramble to you like that."

Peter rubs his hand on the back of his neck, his eyes trailing off in the distance. He's embarrassed, he knows it for sure because Dick makes that exact same expression.

Tim walks out, and the chime of the bell above the coffee shop door sounds more far away than it should.

He can distantly hear Stephanie's voice in his ear say, "Well. Fuck."

Tim couldn't have put it better himself

I wrote this at 1am and it's barely proofread so don't @ me if there are mistakes. Who would've thought this would be my first piece of writing posted on this blog, huh

1) the watch. It's the universe hopping watch from spiderverse, figured that'd be a good explanation for how he got here and for what he's doing at the coffee shop

2) complete coincidence that it was that coffee shop fyi, he just needed a place to work

3) he chose that booth bc it's the booth that overlooks the entire cafe. It's vigilante 101 about seating choices.

4) thank you to @magicpiano for the original post. I have so many more thoughts about it but I doubt I'll write another piece... Maybe <(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)>

Send me an ask, if you want /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

[theonlymadmanonmars]

What your favorite Hatchetfield ship says about you.

Paul x Emma: You just want good things for Paul.

Paul x Ted: You Just want good things for Ted.

Ted x Bill: You are a connoisseur of the enemies/Rivals to lovers trope.

Ted x Tinky: You used to ship Billdip. And/or you're a monster fucker.

Paul x Bill: You are a connoisseur of the best friends to lovers trope.

Ted x Charlotte: You Believe cheating on your husband is ethical in some circumstances. You're correct.

Mr Davidson x Carol: You really wanna be choked out in bed.

Ted x Emma: You love sarcastic asswholes.

Deb x Alice: You are an angsty teenager.

Sam x Zoey: You think morally grey people are hot.

Sam x Charlotte: You are clinging hard to that broken Relationship and/or the child of a divorce you never really got over.

Ethan x Lex: You think a sweet delinquent is the best thing ever, and you just want Ethan to be happy. You also live for angst.

Tom x Becky: You believe that no matter how your first relationship is you can find love again.

Linda x Gerald: You think Morally grey women and their supportive husbands are hot.

Dan x Donna: You really like background ships, and think characters are more interesting when you have to work to learn things about them.

Peter x Steph: You're incredibly wholesome and just want them both to be happy.

Ruth x Steph: You just want Ruth to be happy.

Peter x Richie: You Believe in Best friends to lovers and you are an awkward teenager

Ruth x Richie: You love nerdy best friends who support each other when no one else will.

Peter x Ruth: You think joke flirting should always lead to real flirting.

Grace x Steph: Why have enemies to Lover or friends to lovers when you can't have Frenemies to Lovers.

Ruth x Grace: You love unhinged girlfriends.

Max X Richie: You want good things for Max.

Max x Grace: You think a couple who could take over the world together is the best kind of couple.

Brooke X Richie: You definitely have a whole personality and backstory for Brooke conducted in your head. You love background Characters and Desperately want Richie to be happy.

Linda X Becky: You love Enemies to Lovers and Absolutely stan Linda as you should.

Duke x Holloway: You love Angst but don't need all the toxicity. You also probably had a crush you never told how you felt about them.

Wiggly X Wilbur: You're a monster fucker You think Wiggly's hot. As you should. You love the idea of Tentacle sex with feelings

Wiggly X John: You're a monster fucker You're a fan of tentacle sex without feelings.

Bill x Blinky: You're a monster fucker. And You want to put Bill into a jar and shake him.

Updated

Let me know if I missed anything!