#heavy on Roy and Clark though

[doingmylevelbest]

Shoutout to my favorite DC dads - yall are really seeing me through 🙏

[kitkatscabinet]

BROTHERS BEST FRIEND

Pairings: Wally West, Roy Harper, Conner Kent, Clark Kent x fem reader. Platonic batfamily x sister reader.

Summary: Your brother finds out you’re dating his best friend. It goes about as well as you’d think.

A/N: Nsfw themes 18+, minors dni

WALLY WEST & DICK GRAYSON

"Can't wait to see you later baby <3"

Dick stares at the text from Wally, a frown on his face as he tries to recall if they'd made any plans. Though baby was definitely an odd new term of endearment from his best friend. After spending a few minutes wracking his mind and deciding he hadn't forgotten any important plans, he replies:

"What are we doing later?"

He sees the dots indicating Wally's typing

"Why would you assume that was for you?!"

Dick's frown deepened, if that wasn't for him, then who was monopolising his friend's time? More importantly, who was he calling baby?

“Who’s it for then? :((" He conveniently gets left on read.

"Wally!"

"WALLACE RUDOLPH WEST!!"

His messages turn green. That annoying little fuck! Did Wally just block him? Oh, this was so far from over.

If Wally thought Dick was going to just let this go then he was sorely mistaken.

Dick was a man on a mission, determined to catch Wally with his new partner. Only, the redhead suddenly seemed to be a master at avoiding him. It was driving him insane, but Dick was a dog with a bone and this was the one thing he was never going to let go.

He's so focused on his hunt for the perp, that he doesn't notice the clues right in front of his face. The way you seemed so amused whenever he whined or ranted to you or the way you reached for your phone to send Wally a heads-up text. Or the second toothbrush in your bathroom or the men's hoodie slung over the back of your desk chair.

You were starting to feel a little bad, and you'd finally convinced Wally to let Dick in on your secret when the beans get accidentally spilled, in the Titans group chat of all things.

You were texting Wally privately, looking away from your phone the exact second you accidentally clicked on the notification taking you to a different chat, not noticing until it was far too late.

TheSexiestBat: I love you, idiot. Even if you leave dirty dishes in the sink like a war criminal <3.

SpeedyGonzalez: and I love YOU even if you steal the blanket every night 😘

WingDing: BLANKET. EVERY. NIGHT?

LeanMeanGreenMachine: They sleep together. They sleep. Together. They’re sleeping. TOGETHER.

That'sSoRaven: It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. Except I live in the car and the driver is texting.

Pwincess: Shall we begin making couple name suggestions now?? WalliBat? BatAlly? SpeedWayne?

SpeedyGonzalez: SpeedWayne kinda goes hard not gonna lie

TheSexiestBat: oh god oh GOD wrong chat WRONG CHATTTTT

WingDing: WALLY.

SpeedyGonzalez: it was gonna be a soft launch 😭

LeanMeanGreenMachine: BRO WE JUST GOT HARD LAUNCHED INTO ORBIT

SpeedyGonzalez: So like are we officially telling everyone now? Should I change my bio to “taken by the most gorgeous woman on the planet?"

WingDing: BLOCKED REPORTED BANNED EXCOMMUNICATED FROM THE GROUP LEAVE THE TITANS AND THE PLANET

TheSexiestBat: I'm erasing myself from the narrative :D

TheSexiestBat has left the chat.

SpeedyGonzalez: in my defense your sister is hot and emotionally stable and laughs at my jokes. She's literally the perfect woman.

WingDing: Count ur days West.

That'sSoRaven: I call dibs on the funeral playlist I’m thinking something upbeat. “Dumb Ways to Die” maybe?

Dick screams so loud his neighbours call the cops, fearing he'd been murdered.

Meanwhile you and Wally decide it might be time to give up texting.

ROY HARPER & JASON TODD

It’s been a long night. He’s tired, cranky and covered in mud and blood. He also might be nursing a concussion. Whatever the case, he was ready to crash and Roy’s place was closer than any of his.

He stumbles through the window with a thud, uncaring of the noise he's making. Roy's always been a heavy sleeper. Still, it's a bit disconcerting when he doesn't come to investigate the noise.

Ok, that was a little concerning; what kind of vigilante slept through a potential break-in?

He's just checking his friend's not bleeding out or dead, is what Jason tells himself as he throws back the covers on Roy's bed. Flicking the lights on with an amused laugh that quickly turns into a horrified scream at the sight of his friend, naked, an arm wrapped around his chest from behind.

"Dude, what the fuck?” You croaked, lifting your face from Roy’s back to blink blearily at whoever had interrupted your sleep. Jason's scream turning into a stream of scandalised expletives at the sight of your face.

"Seriously?! MY SISTER, ROY? MY ACTUAL SISTER?!"

"Jason, I swear to god, you better—" you grumbled, still half asleep as you tried to hide your face against the back of your barely conscious boyfriend.

"I better what? Calm down? Don't you dare tell me to CALM DOWN. My SISTER! MY SISTER and my BEST FRIEND!" He shrieks, tugging at his hair as he paced restlessly. Suddenly, he whirled on Roy, grabbing the man's shoulders. "How could you do this to me?"

"You’re talking like I’m the one who got into her bed. She climbed in here herself, dude." Roy mumbled, still sleep-laden and beyond over the situation already.

"You—YOU—climbed into his bed?!"

"I mean yeah? This is Roy's apartment." You whined, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, ignoring his unintelligible stutters.

"Quit clutching your pearls Jay, we're both adults." The scandalised gasp he lets out, hand clutching his chest is one you'd remember forever.

You finally sit up, making him screech and cover his eyes, blindly trying to throw his jacket at you. "Cover them up, you slut!"

"I dunno, Roy likes when my tits are out. Don't you honey?" You mock, relishing in the way Jason's ears turn bright red behind his hand.

Roy hums in agreement before remembering exactly who was standing before him. Your very overprotective brother, who had some very real guns.

"You know, Jase, you’re acting like I’m a bad influence on your sister, but" he turns to look at you, making you melt a little "—who could resist? She’s a catch, man."

"Did you just flirt with my sister in front of me?!" He takes his hand away from his eyes only to nearly run into the doorframe when he realises you're still naked.

"Jason give it a rest." You snickered, finally pulling on the jacket he'd thrown at you, your brother turning around at the sound of the zipper. "Besides. I've known him for longer than you."

Jason sputtered, arms crossed over his chest in extreme offence. "Well, I know him better!"

You let out a screech of outrage, smacking Roy's chest. "Baby! Tell him he's wrong!"

Roy simply turned and buried his face in his pillow, wondering if it was too late to break up with both of you.

CONNER KENT & TIM DRAKE

It wasn't exactly out of the norm for Tim to call you down to the Batcave, he often did so when he was having trouble with a case. But there was something different about the text he'd sent you. It was short and sharp, with perfect grammar and spelling, and most telling, no emojis. Yeah, something was definitely wrong.

The sight of your very much still secret boyfriend standing behind Tim with his arms crossed is enough for your stomach to sink. Luckily, years of exposure to your family's bullshit had let you perfect the art of the poker face.

"Kon? What are you doing here?" You try to remain calm; Kon visits Tim all the time; they're best friends. Yet you can't shake the sinking suspicion that starts to settle in your gut. Just as your boyfriend's about to answer, Tim swivels in the large chair facing the bat computer like a cliche supervillain.

"Now that we're all here, we can begin."

You almost don't want to ask, "begin what?"

Tim's fingers are interlaced in front of his stone-cold expression as the monitor whirs to life, showcasing a PowerPoint slide titled 'Evidence'.

"Evidence of what?" You sigh.

"Of you two dating."

"Tim," you sigh in exasperation, "you're being ridiculous."

Conner, however, is as convincing in his denial as a little girl with lipstick all over her face, swearing she didn't touch Mum's makeup.

"So we're doing this the hard way. Are you ready?"

"Tim, we really don't need - "

"Yes." You throw an incredulous look Conner's way.

"What?" He shrugs, "Kind of seems like he put a lot of effort into this."

"I did." Tim confirms.

"Oh for fuck's sake, fine, Kon and I are dating." You exclaim, throwing your arms up in exasperation.

"Thank you for your honesty, we can skip ahead a few slides." Tim nods serenely, flicking through an absurd amount of slides until he stops on.

"What this means & the consequences"

“Breakup = emotional devastation = forced to choose = loss of sibling"

“They work out = I have to hear them be gross for eternity???”

“Bruce finds out = He kills Kon = I lose my best friend.

"Hold on, you'd choose Conner over me if we broke up?" You squawk in offence.

"Obviously. No offence, babe, but we are best friends." Conner grins and you turn your mutinous glare on him.

"You're sleeping on the couch for a week." You hiss, watching in satisfaction as his grin evaporates.

"Wait, you're sleeping together?!" Tim shrieks, reaching for a suspicious batarang.

"On second thought I'm on your side!" Conner laughs nervously.

"No offence, babe, but you made your choice." You smile unnervingly widely before turning and leaving him to deal with Tim's meltdown.

CLARK KENT & BRUCE WAYNE

Bruce had given a lot of thought to how he'd die over the years, how couldn't he with the life he led? Of all the possibilities he'd imagined, choking on the tea Alfred had prepared him from the image plastered across his morning newspaper.

The picture. The picture of you. His beloved sister. You and Clark Kent. His best friend. Kissing. That picture.

"Wayne Princess spotted with new beau?" The newspaper he holds in his hands stares up at him mockingly until he accidentally rips the offending paper in half.

Plans for the day-long forgotten, Bruce hunkers down at his computer, obsessively scrolling through gossip columns, collecting information. The headlines were nearly endless: “Wayne Royalty Meets Smallville Simplicity", “Billionaire Bloodline and the Boy Next Door?", He Stole Her From Us! Gotham Mourns as Beloved Socialite Taken Off the Market.”

“BREAKING: Gotham’s IT Girl is Dating… WHO???”

The Wayne Princess: You know her, you love her, women want to be her, everyone wants to be with her — was spotted yesterday cosying up to a mystery man. It turns out, that man is Clark Kent, a journalist at the Daily Planet. Yes, a journalist. With GLASSES. Not a billionaire, not a pop star, not even an actor. Just... Clark. Look, we’re not here to judge true love or whatever, but Gotham is reeling. Our queen, our light, our socialite supreme… has chosen a man who probably thinks khakis and cardigans are acceptable date attire. The internet is in mourning. Group chats are in shambles. Thirst edits are being watched through mournful tears. Meanwhile, Clark Kent? Unbothered. Thriving. Possibly winning the “man most likely to be assassinated by bitter Gothamites" award.

All the while, he's sending countless texts and voicemails to his currently wayward sister. You'd always answered him immediately, even when you were busy; yeah he smelled a conspiracy.

Guess it was time to pull out the big guns, his kids, you never could ignore them. He calls Tim and Damian into his office, trying not to feel a little unnerved when the oldest announces that you're in Metropolis with no prompting.

"I figured you'd seen the news." The teen shrugged, answering the silent question in Bruce's eyes.

"What news?" Damian scowls, looking between his father and brother in suspicion. The kid was a Wayne alright.

"Auntie's dating Superman." Tim yawns.

"Father, I require some Kryptonite... for completely unrelated reasons," Damian says so unconvincingly that any other day Bruce might have been amused. Now though, he considered it for a few seconds.

"Ooookay, I'm going to take this one to school now." Tim chuckles awkwardly, grabbing Damian by the shoulders and hauling him out of Bruce's office before the two could plan to murder one of the greatest heroes on Earth.

(Though not before he drops your exact location for his adoptive father, he wasn't that magnanimous.)

Bruce strikes when you're in the shower, waiting until he hears the water start to run before he steps out of the shadows.

"What are your intentions with my sister?"

"Jesus Christ! Bruce!" Clark practically screamed, pulling the sheets up to cover his chest like a blushing maiden.

"Answer the question, Clark." He reiterates.

"Bruce, seriously," Clark tries to placate, only to pause at the deadly look on his friend's face. "I love her."

The earnest sincerity in Clark's gaze knocks the wind right out of his sails.

"Listen to me, Bruce, I love her, I'd protect her with my life. You have to know that." The dopey, lovesick grin that grows on his face is disgustingly sweet. "I'd marry her if she let me."

"Really?" Your breathless voice cuts in. Bruce's eyes narrowed; you tended to take long showers; there was no way you'd finished already. Unless, you intended to set him up.

Unwilling to stay and witness the inevitable sap fest, Bruce turns to you for confirmation.

"Is he good to you?" You nod and something in him softens just a little. "Then I trust you. Both of you." He pauses, barriers going back up when he notices the way you relax into Clark's welcoming embrace. "But if he breaks your heart, I will break his kneecaps"

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You hurt yourself doing home renovations

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara & Wally West

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce notices the injury immediately; his sharp, calculating eyes miss nothing. “You’re hurt,” he says, his tone low but with an edge of worry that only someone close to him might detect. He takes your hand gently but firmly, examining the bandage with the practiced ease of someone who’s patched himself up countless times. “What happened?” he asks, his voice even, though his jaw tightens. You explain it was a minor accident during your renovation project, but he doesn’t look convinced.

- Without a word, Bruce retrieves a medical kit and kneels in front of you. His movements are efficient, his touch steady but surprisingly gentle. “This could’ve been worse,” he says as he rewraps the bandage, his voice tinged with a seriousness that makes your heart ache. “You need to be more careful.” It’s not just a suggestion—it’s a command born of a deep fear he rarely voices.

- “I’m helping you finish this,” he declares, standing and rolling up his sleeves. His presence is commanding, as always, and there’s no room for argument. Watching Bruce work is like watching a master strategist; every movement is calculated, every decision deliberate. Despite his seriousness, he pauses occasionally to ask if you’re okay, his concern manifesting in small but meaningful ways.

- As you work together, Bruce’s reserved demeanor softens slightly. He shares stories from his own mishaps at Wayne Manor, a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask. “Alfred still teases me about the time I tried to fix a chandelier,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It’s in these moments that you see the man behind the Bat—the man who loves you fiercely, even if he struggles to show it.

- That evening, as you sit in the newly completed space, Bruce wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You mean everything to me,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. “I can’t lose you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and firm against your skin. Bruce’s love is steadfast, protective, and unyielding—a shield against the darkness that surrounds him.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark’s face falls the moment he notices your injury. “What happened?” he asks, his voice filled with concern. His large, gentle hands take yours, his thumb brushing softly against the bandage. When you explain it was just a small accident during your renovation, his brow furrows in worry. “You should’ve called me,” he says, his voice warm but firm. “I would’ve been here in seconds.”

- He insists on checking your hand, his touch impossibly gentle. “I know it’s not serious, but even small injuries can hurt,” he says, his blue eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. As he examines the wound, his movements are deliberate, careful—a reflection of the restraint he always practices to keep his immense strength in check.

- “I’m not letting you finish this alone,” Clark declares, his easy smile returning. Watching him work is a sight to behold—his strength and speed make quick work of the tasks, but he’s careful to include you in the process. “You know, you’re pretty amazing for taking this on yourself,” he says, his admiration clear. “But maybe next time, let me do the heavy lifting.”

- Clark fills the room with his presence, his laughter ringing out as he shares stories of his childhood on the farm. “Pa used to say I could fix anything, but I don’t think he meant it literally,” he jokes, his grin infectious. His positivity is contagious, turning the task into a joyful experience rather than a chore.

- As the day winds down, Clark pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice soft. “You’re my world, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” His love is vast and unwavering, a force of nature as steady and comforting as the sun.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry is at your side before you even realize he’s noticed your injury. “Hey, what’s this?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern as he gently lifts your hand. His blue eyes dart to the bandage, then back to your face. “You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” he teases, but his worry is evident. “How’d this happen?”

- In a blur, he’s retrieved the first aid kit, his hands moving at super-speed to clean and rewrap your wound. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” he says with a wink, though his focus is absolute. Barry’s always been quick—literally and emotionally—but when it comes to you, he takes his time, ensuring every detail is perfect. “You’ve got to let me know when you need help,” he says, his tone soft but sincere.

- “Alright, you’re officially benched,” Barry announces with a grin. “I’m finishing this for you.” He’s a whirlwind of energy as he tackles the project, moving so fast that you can barely keep track. But he makes sure to slow down just enough to include you, cracking jokes and asking your opinion at every step.

- Barry’s lighthearted nature turns the renovation into a fun adventure. “You know, if this whole superhero thing doesn’t work out, I might have a future in carpentry,” he says, laughing as he perfectly aligns a frame in a fraction of a second. His joy is infectious, and you find yourself smiling despite the day’s earlier chaos.

- At the end of the day, Barry pulls you into his arms, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re my lightning rod,” he says softly, his words carrying the weight of his feelings. “I need you safe, always.” His love is fast and electrifying, but it’s also deeply grounding—a steady current that ties him to you, no matter how quickly the world moves around him.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana’s gaze sharpens the moment she sees your bandaged hand. “What happened?” she asks, her voice steady but filled with concern. She moves closer, taking your hand in hers with a warrior’s precision and a lover’s tenderness. When you explain the accident, she frowns, her lips pressing into a determined line. “You should have called for me,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

- She kneels before you, her hands strong yet gentle as she examines your injury. “Even the smallest wounds must be treated with care,” she says, her tone carrying the wisdom of centuries. As she cleans and rewraps the bandage, her movements are deliberate, each one filled with a quiet reverence for your well-being. “Your safety matters to me,” she adds, her eyes meeting yours with unwavering sincerity.

- “Come,” Diana says, rising gracefully to her feet. “We will finish this together.” She takes the lead with effortless strength and grace, her presence commanding yet reassuring. Watching her work is mesmerizing; every movement is precise, every decision thoughtful. “This is good work you’ve started,” she says, her voice warm with pride. “But let me ease your burden.”

- Diana shares stories of Themyscira as you work, her voice rich with history and passion. “On my island, we build with our hands and our hearts,” she says, her smile radiant. “Each task is an opportunity to honor the strength within us.” Her words inspire you, her belief in your capabilities unwavering.

- That evening, Diana draws you into a gentle embrace, her arms strong and protective. “You are precious to me,” she says, her voice a soft melody. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if to seal her vow. Diana’s love is fierce and enduring, a flame that burns brightly and warmly, illuminating every corner of your heart.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur notices the bandage on your hand the moment he walks through the door, his sharp, sea-green eyes narrowing in concern. “What happened, love?” he asks, his deep voice steady but tinged with worry. When you explain the accident, he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “You’re as stubborn as the tides, you know that?” he says, though his expression softens as he takes your hand in his rough but gentle grip.

- “Let me see,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He inspects your injury carefully, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. “It’s not bad, but you’ve got to be more careful,” he mutters, his voice filled with a protective edge. Arthur’s care is practical, but there’s an underlying tenderness that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you.

- “Alright, you’re done for the day,” he declares, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I’ll handle the rest.” Despite your protests, Arthur’s determination is unyielding. Watching him work is a marvel; his strength makes heavy tasks look effortless, but he’s surprisingly meticulous, his movements precise and deliberate. “This is easy compared to wrangling sea monsters,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

- As he works, Arthur regales you with tales of Atlantis, his deep voice resonating like the waves. “Did I ever tell you about the time Mera and I rebuilt the coral spires after a storm?” he asks, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. His stories are vivid and captivating, his love for his home—and for you—evident in every word.

- That evening, Arthur pulls you into his arms, his embrace as warm and encompassing as the ocean itself. “You scared me,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “You’re my anchor, and I can’t bear to see you hurt.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to soothe away all your worries. Arthur’s love is as vast and enduring as the sea, a force of nature that surrounds and protects you.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal’s easygoing demeanor shifts the moment he notices the bandage on your hand. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he takes your hand gently. His green eyes scan the wound, his expression a mix of worry and amusement. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?” he teases, though his grip tightens protectively.

- “Alright, let me play doctor,” he says with a wink, summoning a glowing green construct of a first aid kit. Hal’s touch is careful as he rewraps your bandage, his usual bravado giving way to surprising precision. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says softly, his tone carrying a weight that shows how much he cares.

- “Looks like I’m your personal handyman today,” Hal declares, conjuring a glowing hammer with a flourish. He tackles the project with his trademark confidence, his constructs turning the mundane task into something almost magical. “See? Easy,” he says, flashing you a cocky grin. “You’ve got the best in the business on your side.”

- As he works, Hal keeps you entertained with his endless banter and larger-than-life stories. “There was this one time on Oa…” he begins, spinning a tale that’s equal parts unbelievable and hilarious. His humor lightens the atmosphere, and his laughter is infectious, making even the simplest moments feel special.

- Later, as you sit together under the soft glow of his ring, Hal wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “You know, you’re my reason to keep coming back to Earth,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t want anything happening to you.” His love is like his willpower—unshakable, glowing brightly and guiding you through even the darkest times.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- “Whoa, hold up—what happened to your hand?” Oliver asks, his sharp gaze landing on your bandaged injury. Before you can brush it off, he’s already by your side, gently taking your hand in his. “You didn’t think to call me?” he teases, though his voice carries a hint of genuine worry. “I could’ve handled this in no time.”

- He grabs the first aid kit, his hands surprisingly deft as he unwraps and rebandages your wound. “You’ve got to be more careful, beautiful,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I can’t have you sidelined—you’re my best partner, after all.” His touch is light, but the protective edge in his tone makes it clear how much he cares.

- “Alright, step aside. The Green Arrow is on the job,” Oliver says, flashing you a trademark smirk. Watching him work is an experience in itself—he’s efficient and surprisingly skilled, despite his playful demeanor. “Bet you didn’t know I was handy with a hammer, huh?” he jokes, his grin lighting up the room.

- Oliver keeps the mood light with his constant humor and quick wit. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bowstring and ended up snapping three more,” he says, laughing at the memory. His charm is irresistible, and he has a way of making even the most tedious tasks feel fun and exciting.

- As the evening winds down, Oliver pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “I’ve lost enough people in my life—I’m not losing you too.” He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and lingering. Oliver’s love is bold, passionate, and unwavering, a constant in your life that leaves you feeling cherished and protected.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John notices the injury immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “What’s this, then?” he asks, his voice a mix of concern and irritation. He steps closer, taking your hand in his surprisingly gentle grip. “Bloody hell, love, you’ve got to take better care of yourself,” he mutters, his usual sarcasm tempered by genuine worry.

- He doesn’t bother with a first aid kit—instead, he mutters a few words in Latin, and a faint glow surrounds your hand. “There, good as new,” he says with a smirk, though his eyes linger on you with a rare softness. “Don’t make me have to fix you up like this again, yeah?” he adds, his tone light but edged with seriousness.

- “Right, let’s see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” John says, surveying the unfinished renovation. He rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, grumbling under his breath but surprisingly competent. “Don’t look so shocked—I’m full of surprises,” he says with a wink.

- As he works, John keeps up a steady stream of sardonic commentary and darkly humorous anecdotes. “This reminds me of the time I tried to patch up a hole in my flat’s wall. Ended up summoning a demon instead,” he quips, his dry humor making you laugh despite yourself. His presence, though chaotic, is oddly reassuring.

- Later, as you both sit in the dim light, John lights another cigarette, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve got to be more careful, love,” he says quietly. “I’ve got enough demons to fight—I don’t need to be worrying about losing you too.” His love is raw, messy, and laced with his own brand of charm, but it’s as real and unshakable as the man himself.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy notices your bandaged hand the moment he steps in. “What the hell happened?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his trademark smirk softens the words. He takes your hand gently, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “You didn’t think to call me? I’m literally a pro at making bad decisions—and patching them up after.”

- “Alright, sit tight,” he says, pulling out a first aid kit with a flourish. His movements are surprisingly precise, honed from years of taking care of himself and others. “This isn’t bad, but next time, maybe call me before you go all DIY warrior,” he jokes, though the worry in his eyes betrays his casual tone.

- Roy insists on helping you finish the project, despite your protests. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you do this alone?” he says, grabbing a hammer with an exaggerated show of confidence. His work is a mix of skill and chaos—he’s good at what he does, but his playful energy keeps things unpredictable.

- As you work together, Roy’s humor keeps you laughing. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bow. Ended up breaking three more,” he says, grinning at the memory. He’s full of stories, each one more absurd than the last, but they’re all delivered with a charm that makes you forget about the mess around you.

- Later, as you both sit back to admire the (somewhat chaotic) results, Roy pulls you close, his arm slung around your shoulders. “You mean the world to me, you know that?” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Don’t scare me like that again, alright?” His love is messy but wholehearted, a constant reminder that you’re his anchor in a turbulent world.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Kori’s luminous green eyes widen in concern when she sees your bandaged hand. “Oh no, my love, what has happened?” she asks, taking your hand delicately in hers. Her warmth radiates through her touch as she examines the wound. “Does it pain you? Please, tell me how I can help.”

- She gently kisses your hand, her lips soft and glowing faintly. “On Tamaran, we believe healing begins with love,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. She insists on tending to the injury herself, her movements careful and deliberate. Her concern is almost palpable, her love for you evident in every action.

- Kori is eager to assist with your project, her strength and enthusiasm turning what could have been a chore into an exciting adventure. “Let us work together,” she says, her smile bright enough to light up the room. Watching her lift heavy beams effortlessly and handle tools with childlike curiosity is both impressive and endearing.

- As you work side by side, Kori shares stories of her home planet. “On Tamaran, we build homes with our families, singing songs of unity and joy,” she says, her voice rich with nostalgia. Her passion for her culture and her desire to share it with you make the task feel meaningful and connected.

- At the end of the day, Kori pulls you into her embrace, her warmth enveloping you like sunlight. “You are my heart,” she says softly, her glowing eyes meeting yours. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She kisses your forehead tenderly, her love as radiant and boundless as the stars she comes from.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara’s superhuman senses catch your injury before you even try to hide it. “Wait—what happened to your hand?” she asks, her tone a mix of concern and mild panic. She’s by your side in an instant, her blue eyes scanning your bandage with laser-like focus. “You didn’t think to call me? I could’ve been here in a second!”

- She insists on checking your injury, her touch gentle despite her immense strength. “It’s not too bad, but I’m still worried,” she admits, biting her lip as she adjusts the bandage. “Next time, promise me you’ll let me help, okay?” Her voice is firm but filled with a tenderness that makes your heart melt.

- Kara takes over the renovation project with her usual enthusiasm, zipping around at super-speed to get things done. “This is so much easier than stopping meteors,” she jokes, flashing you a bright smile. Despite her incredible abilities, she makes sure to include you, asking for your input and slowing down to let you participate.

- As you work, Kara shares stories of Krypton, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. “Back home, we had machines to do most of this,” she says, a wistful smile crossing her face. “But I think there’s something special about doing it with your own hands—especially when it’s for someone you love.”

- Later, Kara wraps you in a warm hug, her strength carefully restrained but her affection boundless. “You’re my connection to this world,” she says softly, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her love is like sunlight—pure, strong, and life-giving, a constant source of warmth and light in your life.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade notices your injury immediately, his single eye narrowing as he steps closer. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low and commanding. He takes your hand in his gloved one, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examines the bandage. “You’ve been careless,” he says, though his tone carries more concern than reprimand.

- Without a word, Slade pulls out a compact medical kit, his movements precise and efficient. “You should have called me,” he mutters, his focus entirely on your wound. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” His care is methodical, almost clinical, but the way his fingers linger just slightly on your skin betrays his deeper feelings.

- Slade insists on taking over the renovation, his natural leadership coming through as he assesses the task. “Stand back,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. Watching him work is like watching a soldier in action—every movement calculated, every decision deliberate. “This isn’t my first time fixing something broken,” he quips, his dry humor catching you off guard.

- As he works, Slade shares fragments of his past, his gravelly voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. “This reminds me of when I used to build things with my son,” he says, his expression briefly softening. The glimpses of his humanity remind you of the man beneath the hardened exterior, the man who loves you in his own quiet, fierce way.

- Later, Slade pulls you close, his arm heavy and protective around your shoulders. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “I’ve lost too much already—I’m not losing you.” He kisses your forehead briefly but firmly, his love intense and unyielding, like the man himself—a force that shields you from the world’s dangers, even as he battles his own demons.

Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate

- Kent’s piercing eyes behind the shimmering Helmet of Fate immediately fixate on your injured hand. “What have you done, my love?” he asks, his voice a blend of the mystical and the concerned. Without hesitation, he removes the helmet, his human side taking precedence. His hands, warm and steady, gently cradle yours as he inspects the wound.

- “This is a simple injury,” he murmurs, his voice calm but resolute. “But even the smallest wounds can lead to chaos if left untended.” A golden light surrounds his hand as he softly incants an ancient spell. The pain fades, replaced by a soothing warmth, though Kent remains watchful. “You must remember, you are precious to me beyond measure.”

- When he sees the half-finished renovation, Kent sighs softly. “It seems I have another task to tend to,” he says with a faint smile. With a wave of his hand, the room begins to shift and transform, guided by his mystical prowess. “Though I prefer to use magic sparingly, I believe this situation calls for a touch of Fate,” he teases lightly.

- As the room repairs itself under his guidance, Kent tells you stories of the endless mystic realms he has traversed. “In the realm of Amathur, they build their homes from living crystal, attuned to their souls,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of eons. His stories are mesmerizing, painting a picture of a universe far beyond your imagination.

- That evening, as the golden glow of his magic fades, Kent pulls you close, his mortal and immortal selves blending seamlessly in his affection for you. “You ground me, even amidst the chaos of the cosmos,” he whispers. “Do not let harm come to you, for you are my anchor to this world.” His love is profound and eternal, like the ancient forces he commands.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel notices the bandage immediately, her dark, violet eyes narrowing. “What happened?” she asks, her voice calm but laced with quiet concern. She steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours lightly. “You didn’t think to tell me?” she adds, her tone carrying just a hint of exasperation masked by worry.

- A soft, dark aura emanates from her hands as she murmurs a healing spell. “Let me take away the pain,” she says softly, her magic soothing the injury. “But next time, be more careful.” Her words are firm, but the tenderness in her actions speaks volumes about her love for you.

- Rachel insists on helping with the renovation, though her approach is unconventional. Using her magic, she levitates tools and materials, fixing everything with an eerie precision. “Why struggle when there’s an easier way?” she quips, a rare hint of humor gracing her usually serious demeanor.

- As she works, Rachel shares pieces of her past, her voice quiet but steady. “I used to dream of having a home like this—something stable, something real,” she admits. Her vulnerability in those moments is a reminder of the strength it takes for her to let you in, to allow herself to love and be loved.

- Later, as the room takes on a serene, almost otherworldly perfection, Rachel sits with you in the quiet. “I’m not used to caring this much,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you… you’ve shown me that it’s okay to let someone in.” Her love is deep and shadowed, like the magic she wields—powerful, transformative, and utterly consuming.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- “What’s this?” Zatanna asks, her sharp blue eyes immediately noticing your bandaged hand. She sets down her wand and takes your hand in hers, her touch warm and gentle. “You’ve been playing with tools without supervision, haven’t you?” she teases, though her concern is clear.

- “Let me fix this,” she says with a wink. She waves her hand, her words spoken backward as a soft, golden light surrounds your injury. “Esael ruoy niaP,” she says, and the pain dissipates. “Much better,” she adds with a playful smile. “But seriously, call me next time.”

- Zatanna insists on finishing the renovation with you, though her methods are far from ordinary. “Why use a hammer when you have magic?” she says, summoning tools and materials with a flick of her wrist. The room transforms under her guidance, every detail touched with a bit of theatrical flair.

- As she works, Zatanna keeps you entertained with stories of her performances and her magical adventures. “There was this one time in Paris where my spell accidentally turned an entire café into a circus,” she says, laughing. Her humor and charisma make even the mundane feel magical, her presence a constant source of joy.

- That night, as the newly restored room glows with a faint magical shimmer, Zatanna pulls you into her arms. “You’re my favorite audience,” she says softly, her voice filled with affection. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?” Her love is vibrant and enchanting, a spell that binds you to her in the most wonderful way.

Wally West aka. Flash

- Wally zips into the room and immediately notices your hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—what happened here?” he asks, his words coming almost as fast as he moves. He’s by your side in an instant, gently taking your injured hand in his. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve been here in seconds!”

- He rushes to grab a first aid kit, moving so quickly you barely see him leave. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says as he carefully rewraps your bandage. Despite his speed, his touch is gentle, his eyes full of concern. “Promise me you’ll let me help next time, okay?”

- Wally insists on finishing the renovation, his super-speed turning the task into a blur of activity. “This is easy,” he says with a grin, fixing things faster than you can even follow. “But hey, don’t blink—you might miss my best work!” His enthusiasm is infectious, making the entire process feel like a game.

- As he works, Wally keeps you laughing with his endless jokes and stories. “Did I ever tell you about the time I outran a black hole?” he says, his grin widening. His energy is boundless, his humor a constant source of lightness and joy in your life.

- Later, as the room stands perfectly completed, Wally pulls you close, his usual hyperactivity giving way to a rare moment of stillness. “You’re my world,” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere. “I can’t imagine life without you.” His love is like his speed—unstoppable, all-encompassing, and always rushing to your side.

[ao3feed-superbat]

Robin and the Sunflower

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/RKui47m by interprehendere Every year Panem would round up one girl and one boy ages 13 - 18 from each district for their annual hunger games. A tradition kept for nearly 100 years. Though a one in a several thousand chance that your child would be reaped, parents would still spend this time in fear of those odds. Bernard understood why far too young. It was five years ago that Darla Aquisita, one of his best friends died in the games. Then only a year later after the passing of Tim Drake's parents, he would lose his only other best friend for a whole other reason. Falling out of contact with him. It would be a tragedy that they might end up in the games together. Knowing that only one may come back out... Words: 7076, Chapters: 4/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Hunger Games (Movies), Young Justice - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Dick Grayson, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Garth (DCU), Damian Wayne, Virgil "Static" Hawkins, Bart Allen, Avery Ho, Roy Harper, Kara Zor-El, Jules Jourdain, Terra, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, Clark Kent, Donna Troy, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain Relationships: Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson/Joseph Wilson, Bea Bennett/Dick Grayson, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Hunger Games AU, but make it timbern, Angst, very little comfort, Abuse, Murder, injuries, Death, Minor Character Death, Heavy Angst, depictions od mental illness, depictions of trauma, depictions of ptsd, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Falling In Love, Explicit Language, Semi-Canonical Character, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, its gonna be long maybe, i do apologize for the angst i have in mind., Trans Tim Drake, Bisexual Tim Drake, Gay Bernard Dowd, It's important to remember Tim is trans, dead robin: do not eat, no beta we die like jason todd, Slow Burn, Romani Dick Grayson read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/RKui47m

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Icarus and the Sun

by interprehendere Every year Panem would round up one girl and one boy ages 14- 19 from each district for their annual hunger games. A tradition kept for nearly 100 years. It was five years ago that Darla Aquisita died in the games at only 14. Bernard knew this because he knew her. And it seemed that was the year things began to change for him. Darla, though only a year older than him, was one of three. The other, a boy by the name of Tim Drake. The son of a victor- Janet Drake, who had won the games a year before Tim was born. They met not long after Bernard's father was placed as the district Mayor. He, Darla and Bernard grew close very quickly... nearly as quickly as it was lost. It was only the next year when an accident set the Drake home on fire and both his parents were found dead in their beds. Both friends lost to him in just under a year. He's been alone ever since. But every year he thinks of them. Fond in memory. Words: 1624, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Hunger Games (Movies), Young Justice - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Dick Grayson, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Garth (DCU), Damian Wayne, Virgil "Static" Hawkins, Bart Allen, Avery Ho, Roy Harper, Kara Zor-El, Jules Jourdain, Terra, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, Clark Kent Relationships: Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Hunger Games AU, but make it timbern, Angst, very little comfort, Abuse, Murder, injuries, Death, Minor Character Death, Heavy Angst, depictions od mental illness, depictions of trauma, depictions of ptsd, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Falling In Love, Explicit Language, Non-Explicit Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Semi-Canonical Character, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, its gonna be long maybe, i do apologize for the angst i have in mind., Trans Tim Drake, Bisexual Tim Drake, Gay Bernard Dowd, It's important to remember Tim is trans, dead robin: do not eat, no beta we die like jason todd via https://ift.tt/whrMIkn

[longliveblackness]

In Illinois, where Fred Hampton was born, the police constantly harassed black people. Access to social goods too was made difficult, if not curtailed, in the areas with heavy black populations.

The party, a creation of Huey Newton and fellow student Bobby Seale, insisted on black nationalist response to racial discrimination. The party's Illinois chapter was opened in 1967 and Hampton joined in 1968, aged just 20.

When Stokely Carmichael's Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) split from the Panthers in 1969, Hampton headed the Illinois chapter of the Panthers.

Then a petty criminal, O'Neal was coerced by the FBl into helping them silence Hampton and the Black Panther Party.

And he did just that when he infiltrated the party and provided the FBI with a floor plan of the Chicago apartment where Hampton was assassinated in 1969.

His journey to becoming an FBl informant began in 1966 when he was tracked by FBI Agent Roy Martin Mitchell after stealing a car and driving it across state lines to Michigan.

He was told that he would forget about the stolen car charge if he infiltrate the Panthers for the FBl.

The Panther Party had then become infamous for brandishing guns, challenging the authority of police officers, and embracing violence as a necessary by-product of revolution.

O'Neal agreed to infiltrate the party and when he got accepted, he served as the group's chief of security.

Reports said he even became in charge of security for Hampton and had keys to Panther headquarters and safe houses.

He eventually provided the floor plan of Hampton's west-side apartment that was used to plan the raid that killed Hampton and his fellow Panther, Mark Clark.

Fred Hampton, was executed in his sleep by race soldiers, sleeping next to his pregnant wife, Akua Nieri.

O'Neal hardly spoke of his undercover years but in a 1984 interview with the Tribune, one of his last public interviews, he mentioned that he "thrived" on his work with law enforcement though in the end, he realized he had been "just a pawn in a very big game."

In 1990, William O'Neal, committed suicide.

•••

En Illinois, donde nació Fred Hampton, la policía constantemente hostigaba a la gente negra. Era difícil tener acceso a los servicios sociales, estos estaban restringidos en las áreas donde la mayor parte de la población era negra.

El partido, una creación de Huey Newton y su compañero, Bobby Seale insistía con una respuesta nacionalista negra a la discriminación social. El capítulo de Illinois se abrió en 1967 y Hampton se unió en 1968, con tan solo 20 años de edad.

Cuando Stokely Carmichael del Comité Coordinador Estudiantil No Violento se separó de las Panteras en 1969, Hampton dirigió el capítulo de Illinois de las Panteras Negras.

Luego un pequeño criminal llamado William O’Neal, fue obligado por el FBI a ayudarlos a silenciar a Hampton y a las Panteras.

Y eso fue exactamente lo que hizo cuando se infiltró en el partido y le brindó al FBI los planos del apartamento donde Hampton fue asesinado en 1969.

Su trayecto a convertirse en un informante para el FBI comenzó en 1966, cuando fue rastreado por el agente Roy Martin Mitchell, después de haber robado un auto y haberlo conducido por fronteras estatales.

Se le había dicho que se olvidarían de los cargos por el auto robado si ayudaba a que las Panteras fuesen infiltradas por el FBI.

El Partido Pantera Negra se había convertido en un grupo de baja fama que portaba armas, que desafiaba a la autoridad de los oficiales de policía y aceptaban que la violencia era un producto necesario de la revolución.

O’Neal aceptó infiltrar al partido y cuando fue aceptado sirvió como el jefe de seguridad del grupo.

Los reportes mencionan que incluso llegó a estar el encargo de la seguridad de Hampton y contaba con llaves para las sedes y los almacenes del partido.

Eventualmente brindó los planos del apartamento de Hampton, ubicado en el lado oeste de Chicago. Este mismo fue utilizado para organizar la redada que mató a Hampton y su compañero, también parte de las Panteras, Mark Clark.

Fred Hampton fue ejecutado por soldados raciales mientras que dormía a lado de su esposa embarazada, Akua Nieri.

O’Neal a penas habló sobre sus años como un informante encubierto, pero en una entrevista hecha en 1984 con The Tribune, una de sus últimas entrevistas públicas, mencionó que “prosperó” en su trabajo con el orden público, aunque al final se había dado cuenta que “simplemente fue un peón en un juego muy importante".

En 1990, William O’Neal se suicidó.

[flashfuture]

hi!! re: your tags on a post not too long ago—what do you mean by dick’s previous love interests not respecting him? i haven’t read a whole lot of his stuff and tend to avoid romance-heavy plot lines in general, so this is 100% a genuine question and not me trying to start anything i promise, it’s just that i’ve seen dickb4bs and dickk0ry shippers in the past claim it’s sexism when people dislike his partners?

Ah well DC are big brain and they think peak humor is the boomer meme of the nagging wife. 

So basically Dick and Kori were an absolutely fucking amazing couple. But then there was the issue of Mirage where she pretended to be Kori and tricked Dick into sleeping with her. Which is r*pe. Dick was slut shamed and victim blamed for this. DC has an absolutely awful track record with male victims of sexual assault. Ollie was always victim blamed for happened to him. And Dick they didn’t even acknowledge that he was assaulted. As well they had Dick sleep with Babs before the wedding I think. And that is so ooc it’s not even funny.

And when Dick started dating Babs they slowly chipped away at his skills to prop Babs up. And I’ll say it again if you have to tear down another character to make one look good you haven’t proven any skill. Character A just got butchered for no reason and Character B stayed the same. So Babs started mocking Dick for a lot of things. And it carries over into modern stuff. Where she’s the big brain and her dumb himbo boyfriend. Dick Grayson is not a fucking himbo. He’s smart as hell and dangerous as hell. 

So they write Dick wrong to make him the butt of the joke. No one is laughing with him, they’re laughing at him. You see it in the newest Nightwing comics where Babs is there to make sure the reader knows how silly Dick is. 

The issue is with the writers being incapable of writing a het relationship well. Literally, the best ones I can think of is Dinah/Ollie (though Gail Simone and Judd Winick tried their best to fuck that one up) Big Barda/Scott Free, Clark/Iris, Barry/Iris, Wally/Linda (but DC keeps fucking my Flashes)

So yeah DickKori got a bad rap because the writers want to over-sexualize Kori so then it’s like she and Dick were only sexual and I just- they were gonna get fucking married. And I literally could care less about DickBabs except that it contributes to the character butchering of both Babs and Dick by the way. Because when Babs is mocking Dick she just looks like a bitch. They reduce Babs over and over again to Dick’s ex-girlfriend. 

So uh yeah those are my thoughts. People do indeed like to throw around sexist the same way they like to call Gail Simone a feminist because she thinks men are bad. She’s also the ally who says read this book because it’s got a gay character and that is about as surface level as you can get🤷‍♀️ I mean sure call me a sexist cause I don’t think the woman nagging and mocking a man all the time is a very good relationship dynamic. Lol yeah when people say that a lot of the time they’re just angry you don’t like their faves. As long as you aren’t you know actually being sexist (which really is not that hard to tell) then it’s best to ignore them. 

I’ve got some scalding takes on characters who are there just to be women for the sake of having a het love interest. They’ve certainly evolved Babs since then but every time she’s with a batboy she gets snapped right back into that box of 60s housewife. I’ll never exactly ship Babs with any of the Batboys because she was made to be Bruce’s love interest and keeps getting shifted around to fit with each and every other batboy. 

It is usually best to avoid Dick romances as the writer just uses the women to cause him more man pain cause of course they do. DC is traditionally written by men and lots and lots of white people. These people are older who have older views of relationships based on what was on TV but it’s still lame.

For example, there is always the age-old Babs and Kori fight over Dick storyline that absolutely no one wants to read. Women being pit against women over a fucking man??? Seriously? And if I see one more writer claims the only woman Dick has ever loved was Babs I’ll scream. It’s the tiniest smoothest brain take I have ever seen. 

Bea was lovely the cherry on top of the Ric mess. She was adorable and fun and she really cared about Dick as a person. I miss her. Which is I think the post you were talking about? Idk I can’t remember what I tag where lol. 

I think to derail for a quick sec the reason so many people turn to same-sex relationships in fiction is that the relationship between two women and two men will almost always be more developed than whatever het thing is going on. 

Dick is much much closer to Roy, Wally, Garth, and Joey than he ever was to Babs. Now DC is retconning that Dick and Babs were childhood friends. But they still imo have no chemistry outside of they both work with Batman and ones a girl ones a boy. 

Kori and Dick had real chemistry they were trying to both find freedom and safety within one another. The writers didn’t constantly have to hammer home that they loved each other or have random thought bubbles to try and make some connection happen. They just did happen. 

Anyone who knows me knows I am not the biggest Babs fan. However, I’ll still protest the unfair treatment of any character. I don’t have to like a character to not want them to be butchered by bad writing. Like confession time I don’t even like Jason that much but I talk about him all the time because I want him to have a good story. So to me DickBabs is directly connected the butchering of both characters and it just doesn’t work. 

so yep rambles on top of rambles. I’m not character bashing here just to make it clear. And I am a little bit relationship bashing but more so writer bashing. 

[nightwingmyboi]

Pt 1) I'm ngl, if this Ric Grayson arc ends with Dick finally going off on the rest of the batfam for only showing him affection when they need something, it will almost be worth it. You mentioned in the meta about his relationship with the batfam that to recover from the gunshot he cut every one off (ngl, I stopped reading as soon as his memories were wiped), and I think that means now is the perfect time (or when his memories finally return fully next issue) for him to blow up

Pt 2) I want him to go off on Bruce for never seeming satisfied with what he does. I want him to go off on Tim for running away when everything was going to shit while Bruce was stuck in time (there's evidence that he remembers pre reboot stuff with that one panel that has torque and tarantula and him proposing to Babs so I'm going to say that's all still canon). I want him to lose his shit with Babs for constantly being mad at him when he's trying so hard (I love Babs, but this is annoying)

Pt 3) when he gets his memories back I want him to finally blow up. Like??? His life has been in a constant state of falling apart since he became Nightwing (hell, even before that), but he still always put others first. And now Roy is dead, Donna is evil, Wally is who knows where after killing Roy, Jason and Bruce are back on the outs, etc, etc and people were saying they need him back to fix things when he's recovering from being shot in the head. If they let him point this out, the Ric arc

Pt 4) will have been validated in my eyes. Still fucking terrible writing wise, execution (I was excited for Talon! Dick but christ what I read of it was bad), one of the worst decisions they've made recently, and they've made a bunch of bad ones, but it will be validated in its existence to me.

Yeah, Dick takes a lot of crap from the members of his family; a lot of the things you listed are things that I am very much not a fan of, lmao. And I’d even add that, with the Ric stuff you mention, it wasn’t even that Dick “cut everyone off” so that he could recover; I should have made this clearer--Bruce and the rest of the family should take a lot of the blame for pushing Dick away. See, initially, Dick was open to the idea of getting to know his family. He visited the manor and then Bruce, impatient with the lack of progress Dick was making on regaining his memories, decided to take Dick down to the Batcave, show him the Nightwing suit (that still had the freaking blood from the gunshot wound on it Jesus Christ), and traumatize Dick with the video of him getting shot in the head in order to stir up some memories. Alfred and Damian help Bruce do this:

Nightwing: Rebirth Annual #2

And Dick is obviously horrified. After this, why in the world would Dick want to be Nightwing? Why would he want to associate with his “family”? Staying away from the manor wasn’t Dick cutting out people in his life who cared for him and were trying to help him; it was about, in Dick’s mind, staying away from people who were willing to hurt him, people who cared more about his utility and how they needed him to be Nightwing then they cared about his safety and wellbeing. It was a desperate move to protect himself from people he could no longer trust. It is clear that implanted false memories and other brainwashing was done from the very beginning (by the doctor Bruce specifically hired no less) in order to ensure that “Ric” would not be comfortable with Bruce and would be inclined to leave, but it was Bruce’s actions that had Dick running literally right into his brainwasher’s arms: 

It’s also not even like afterwards Dick hid himself in some unknown location, completely out of contact. Barbara easily tracked Dick down to talk. And yet, when Barbara talks to him, she doesn’t ask Dick if he’s alright. She just tells him that they want him to regain his memories (umm...yeah you’ve made that clear), comments that he’s not acting like himself, and tells him to come back to the manor. So...it’s all about what the family wants. Dick says no, and there are zero attempts at a compromise. Maybe the family could have used the millions of dollars at its disposal to set Dick up elsewhere outside the manor so he doesn’t have to, uh, live in a cab? Maybe they could agree to occasional check-ins instead of the overbearing babysitting they were suggesting, that Dick is uncomfortable with? Maybe they could ask Dick what he wants? But, no. As soon as Dick doesn’t do exactly what they want him to, he’s on his own. People talk about how this arc is making Dick look bad, but beyond that, really it's making all of the family look like uncaring, selfish assholes. 

That aside, about how I want this arc to conclude...it would be nice, as readers, to see Dick finally put his foot down and stand up for himself a little. But honestly? Him going off on everyone like you describe? I feel like that would be out of character. I could maybe see Dick telling off Batman, but I can’t even imagine Dick truly blowing up at Damian or Tim, or really even Barbara. People really over exaggerate Dick’s temper a lot; in reality, it usually takes very extreme circumstances, and often an insane amount of stress and/or brainwashing to make Dick lash out. Bruce is one of the few people that can make Dick lose his temper, so maybe. But I also think that when Dick is truly upset and emotionally compromised, his first move is to go somewhere to be alone. He doesn’t tend to lash out; he tends to retreat and isolate himself if he’s able. You’ll often see him hole himself in his apartment when everything becomes too much. Two good examples of this are in Joker’s Last Laugh and in the Outsiders. After Dick kills the Joker, he immediately retreats to his apartment to be alone, and likewise after Donna dies, he spends months isolated from his friends in Bludhaven: 

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

And not only all that, but I really don’t think Dick yelling at everyone would be cathartic for him. If he did something like that, he’d feel terrible and guilty about it. He’d apologize. And I really don’t want him to have to apologize for anything in the aftermath of all this horrible stuff he’s been through. I don’t want any of the responsibility for making things right to be put on his shoulders. Though he’ll probably feel the need to try to fix things anyway, I’d actually prefer him to just...stay away from the family. Not avoid them, but let them be the ones to reach out to him for a change. Especially recently, Dick has had to do all the emotional work in his relationships; it would be so gratifying to have his friends and family put the work in on their own and be the ones to initiate so Dick doesn’t have to do all the heavy lifting. 

And hey, I’d love even more for one of the numerous friends he used to have to step in and stand up for him instead, so he doesn’t have to. If the rest of the Titans were not currently being put through depressing arcs themselves (or being dead, RIP Roy), I think they definitely would’ve knocked some heads together. I think the only possible solution...is Uncle Clark coming to the rescue! Surely if Superman knew what was going on, he’d come down to the cave and give a good old fashioned tongue lashing to Batman for his pseudo-nephew’s sake! I’m not caught up with the Superman comics so idk what he’s up to rn, but please tell me this can happen and if not let me dream.

Thanks for the ask! I feel your pain, was pretty disappointed with Talon Dick. I really want to just reach into the comics and wrap Dick up in a blanket or something, give him rest!

[novaviis]

Did you have any more ideas or head canons for the JLU dickwally au?

OH BOY DO I

Initially, Dick stays out of the JLA because he and Bruce eventually come to the agreement that they need to have a sort of outside perspective if things go wrong - be it mind control of the league, the league itself becoming corrupt, etc. On a more personal level, Dick feels that he’d be stepping back into Bruce’s shadow. The other Heroes, the ones who’ve known him and Bruce for years, all respect Dick as his own man and his own Hero, but there’ll always be that association. 

The Titans were a team long before the Justice League, back when Dick and Wally were teenagers. The team wasn’t outright ridiculed, but it was seen at the time as a sort of juvenile club, both by some Heroes and the media. The originals (the Fab 5 ofc) were all there. In this AU, Donna (whose origins are retconned every two seconds and confusing as shit anyways so we’re going this over) would have left Themyscira on her own. She was Wonder Girl first here, no I don’t take criticism. Garth came to the surface world, and Roy was Oliver’s apprentice, and they all found each other because they knew nobody else their age understood them. The Titans were their own thing, and they did it first. And you know that when the League came around, they were all sort of rolling their eyes. 

But that’s also partly why Wally is just so natural as part of a Team. He’s done all this before. His experience of working on a Team was with all of his best friends! Of course he’s stoked. 

Wally took the Mantel of The Flash after Barry died, when he was in his early twenties. And, for the most part, no one really noticed. Sure, The Flash seemed a little different, but hey, Superheroes are fuckin’ weird. No reason to ask questions. Adding to that, it just helps to mask his identity better. 

The decision Dick and Wally make to keep their Hero lives separate is mutual and something they’re both pretty serious about both in the early says of their Solo careers, and the early days of the League. They keep those two worlds split apart. They don’t plan on doing this forever, some day they do want to settle down, but this is what is going to protect them in the mean time, the way they see it. 

But it’s not like they’re distant with each other. The core of them is that they have always been best friends first. That’s still true. They love each other, they’re playful when they’re together, and everyone who knows them can see that. 

Now, I want you to imagine Dick’s reaction to the aftermath of “Divided We Fall”. Imagine that he saw pretty much all of it on CCTV, watching a bird’s eye view of Wally vanishing into the Speed Force after taking down Luthor. Imagine him fucking frozen and terrified because he can’t do anything about it. Imagine those few minutes when Bruce is standing there, already heavy with the devastating burden that he failed his family. Imagine, when it’s over and Shayera and the others bring Wally back, Bruce taking Wally with him back to Gotham under the pretense of monitoring him. 

Some of the Leaguers already know. Most of them don’t. 

Imagine Bruce bringing Wally back to the Cave. Imagine Dick already waiting there with Tim and Barbara, wearing a hole into the floor from his anxious pacing. Imagine the moment Bruce and Wally enter, Bruce helping him walk with his arm pulled over his shoulder. Imagine Dick just rushing over and launching himself at Wally, holding him almost tight enough to bruise if only to hide the way his arms are shaking. 

Wally is a bit slow to react, but he wraps his arms around Dick and they sort of sink to the floor like that. And scared as he is, Dick’s first reaction is anger, lashing out at Bruce, because he promised to look out for Wally, to keep him safe, but Wally manages to get him to calm down, because it’s not his fault. Bruce doesn’t say much at first, just sort of walks away because stopping and saying that it is. It’s the whole League’s fault. Their hubris lead to this disaster with Luthor and Braniac. The League needs to end. So, it’s Bruce’s idea, and not Clark’s to disband the Justice League. But still, Bruce takes the blame for what nearly happened to Wally on himself - because he did promise. 

And even though the League doesn’t disband after all, he’s never going to let himself forget that. 

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

A @batfam-christmas-stocking fic written for @renecdote!! happy holidays <3

----

Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago.

Gotham feels different, even though it doesn’t appear that way on the surface. The violence is more personal, less showy, and as far as they’ve seen, there are almost no super villains. Somehow, though, there’s more crime on the whole, every corner of every street host to pimps and drug dealers and traffickers.

Tim tries to fight it, tries to intervene, but Dick pulls him back. “We can’t risk it, you know that.”

He does. But that doesn’t make it easier. “They need our help,” Tim fires back, everything he’s ever been taught about bettering the world, the pressure of saving people, battering around in his mind.

“It’s not our world or our place,” Dick explains, and for all that he sounds apologetic, his eyes don’t stray away from the shadowy parts of the street where they can hear people being hurt.

Dick is a good actor, but Tim can read him like a book. He’s following the protocols put in place for dimensional travel, playing the I’m The Big Brother And I’m In Charge card, but he doesn’t like it anymore than Tim does.

The rules are what they are for a reason, and Tim knows that. Grudgingly, he lets Dick pull him away, go back to their own little shadowy corners. They sleep on cardboard they find in dumpsters, huddling up for warmth. In the mornings, they go to the local library, hoping to fill out some of their knowledge on this world, since no rescue or way out otherwise is forthcoming.

There, sitting at the outdated computers, they find out that Martha and Thomas Wayne are still dead. Bruce wasn’t 8 when it happened, though—he was 16. He got shot too, making it painful and difficult to walk or move in general. According to one interview from a few years before, he’s kept on bedrest a lot, and has been in and out of physical therapy ever since it happened, now fifteen years prior. When he’s not doing that, he’s campaigning for control of Wayne Enterprises and tweeting about coffee.

There’s no Batman. Not like how they know him, at least.

One day, Dick flirts with a cop and Tim pickpockets the man’s scanner, and they learn that whole case files, suspects and evidence all neatly put together, have been sent to the GCPD over the past six years. They never see anyone fly overhead, though. At first, they think it might be Babs, but when they try to look her up, Tim finds that she’s been locked up in Arkham for at least the last four years.

Neither one of them want to know why, so they just don’t look into it any further. “This isn’t our Babs,” Dick reminds himself, and Tim, too. But mostly himself. “She’s not .”

They share a look, and don’t have to say anything to know it’s time to compartmentalize. This Babs isn’t their Babs. This Bruce isn’t their Bruce. This world doesn’t have the Joker or Poison Ivy or any of them except Two Face and the Penguin. This isn’t their world .

“Come on,” Dick murmurs, sticking close to his side as they leave the library. As they head to their latest alley, they pass all kinds of drug deals and gang members beating the shit out of people. By the time they actually get to where they’ve been staying, they’re both so tense, one smartass comment from Tim is all it takes to snap them into an argument.

”I’m sorry,” Tim says after they’ve gone back and forth a few times, sounding hostile even to himself. “I’m so sorry I can’t see things the same way you do. I’m sorry I’m not perfect Dick Grayson , who always knows what to do without even having to think about it, who always does the right thing, who is totally fine letting all these people suffer, because it’s in the protocol!”

He doesn’t even believe his own words. Tim’s just upset, unable to handle living on the streets for a week in a universe where everything is unfamiliar and grim, lashing out against one of the only things he can control. Dick is all he has here—and spending that much time with someone, let alone one of his brothers, would be hard even in the best of circumstances.

Dick flinches, and Tim only has a second to feel bad before the flash of a reflection from a gun in the window above them catches his attention. He moves on instinct, stepping forward and trying to pull Dick down even as Dick tries to move towards the mouth of the alley, protective to a fault. The bullet hits Dick’s left shoulder with a sickening and familiar crack-thwack .

For a moment, everything is silent, slow motion. Dick sucks in a pained breath, stumbling back a few steps, and Tim hopes and prays the bullet hasn’t hit an artery.

And then Tim twists to face the mouth of the alley and books it towards him, jumping on the bastard and bringing him to the ground. He rips the gun away and lets all of his pent-up anger and stress out, punching and punching. It’s only Dick, gritting his teeth and clutching his shoulder, calling out his name that saves the guy’s teeth from actually being knocked out.

Panting and shaking with fury and adrenaline, Tim stands. “Are you okay?” He demands.

“Fine,” Dick replies. “We—we should go.”

“Yeah, okay.” But he bends down instead, patting the guy’s pockets until he finds what he’s looking for: a wallet. As he rifles through, searching for a driver’s license or state ID, he explains. “We need to know who he is. If he’s working for Harvey….”

They both shudder at the thought, but the truth is worse. The name is Italian, familiar to Tim from a bust a few years before. He’s one of Maroni’s men.

Another thing they learned during their hours of research at the library: seven years ago, Haly’s Circus came through town. Bruce Wayne didn’t attend, or more likely, couldn’t. Mary and John Grayson fell to their deaths, and once it became clear that little Dick Grayson, only eight years old, knew something about the murderers, he ran. He’s been missing ever since, and if he’s still alive, then the Maronis are probably still on the lookout for him. Tony Zucco, apparently, is still alive. Still working Gotham’s underbelly, terrorizing and murdering. The Dick Grayson native to this universe is a threat to them.

They probably heard me say Dick’s name , Tim realizes, tucking the wallet away in the man’s pockets. Which means he was shot because of me. Fuck.

----

Big brothers, Tim finds, are fucking heavy. Especially when they’ve been shot and are steadily losing blood. When they’re dead weight, fading in and out of consciousness. When they’re relying totally on Tim to drag the both of them to uncertain refuge in an unfamiliar city.

And Tim…he wants to be someone Dick can rely on. (Obviously, he already is, but his anxiety says maybe this is just who Dick is. Tim could be anyone and the situation would be the same. Still, it would be better for Dick if Tim was Damian, instead. Or Bruce. Or Donna. Or anyone but himself, really.) But more than anything, he wants someone who can help Dick, who can keep him alive. Living on the streets the way they are just doesn’t lend much in the way of medical supplies.

Tim drags Dick all the way to the clinic, based on a vague awareness that it exists here, too. When they get there, though, the building is obviously abandoned, Leslie nowhere to be found. Wherever she is, he doesn’t know, but he hopes she’s okay. He can’t think of a situation that would keep her from helping the people of Gotham. Still, he sets Dick up against the wall and breaks in, hoping for something useful, and finding nothing inside but rubble and evidence of homeless people using the space for shelter.

He goes back to Dick, feeling like the world is ending. They don’t have any first aid supplies, and even if they did, even if a first aid kit fell out of the sky right now and Tim could patch Dick up, it wouldn’t mean anything. This only happened because Tim wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t thinking to be careful. It could happen again. What does he do then?

What would Bruce do? Roy? Wally? Diana or Clark? Hell, Kon ? Any of them could help Dick so much more right now. More than Tim can or will ever be able to. And really, what good is Tim if he can’t even keep his brother alive?

Aware the thoughts aren’t helpful right now, he shelves them for later and looks back at Dick, cataloguing everything he sees like Bruce taught them to do. Dick’s still steadily bleeding out, and though that’s most concerning of all, Tim finds the only thing he can think about is how they don’t have clean clothes so Dick can walk around in something not soaked in blood.

With a strangled shout, Tim kicks the wall. It doesn’t affect him, much—thank god he’d been wearing steel-toed shoes when they were transported here—but the brief release feels good. Sort of. It’d be a lot better if he were still laying into the Maroni guy, if he’s honest.

“Tim,” Dick says, both reproachful and concerned.

“Shut up,” Tim replies, dragging his fingers through his hair. His mind is racing. He wants to go home so badly his chest aches with it.

Dick knows him well enough that he can sense what Tim is thinking. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, Tim. No . We can’t.”

“Where else are we supposed to go?” Tim cries out. It’s a stupid idea, it’s against the protocol, and they’ve already talked about it anyway. They’d agreed it’s stupid and they can’t do it and moved on. But he can’t help feeling the impulse, especially now.

“Stephanie’s,” Dick shoots back immediately. But they both know it’s not possible—here, Steph is another face on the dozens of missing persons posters that litter the city. He realizes it a second too late, and stumbles over his next words. “Just, anywhere but there.”

Jason is dead, has been for years now. Damian doesn’t exist. Cass is in Star City with Dinah Lance. Luke and the other members of the Fox family have never lived in this Gotham. Duke’s parents are still alive—they recently moved to Blüdhaven, and took their young son with them. Harper and Cullen are nowhere to be found, but Tim tells himself that’s a good thing—it means they aren’t in the obituaries. Kate is overseas on a honeymoon with her wife. Half of the Titans and Justice League don’t seem to exist, and the ones that do wouldn’t step foot in this cesspit of crime and drugs.

‘Anywhere but there’ means nothing. Nowhere. There’s no place for them to go, no one who can or even would help.

The words, or maybe the thoughts that come with them, wear Dick out. He starts to fade again, eyes slipping closed, and that means Tim’s in charge.

And Tim? Tim wants to go home .

He grabs Dick, keeping him from sliding down the wall, throws his brother’s arm over his shoulder, and starts off towards the Manor with every ounce of determination he can muster.

----

Several hours later, when it’s dark and Dick is pale and mostly silent, barely keeping up, they make it home. Everything feels different: the security that allows them to get all the way up the drive (after only a little effort on Tim’s part), the trees oddly placed and the doors and shutters all painted a light blue instead of the rusty red he’s used to. It’s disorienting and upsetting. Home is supposed to be familiar and it’s not and he hates it.

Tim knocks on a side door that only family knows about, hoping against hope it won’t be Bruce that answers. He doubts it, but he’s positive he won’t be able to keep his composure in front of his dad. It’ll be a little easier with Alfred. Probably. In any case, Alfred is the better option of the two.

While they wait, Dick mumbles, “This is stupid.”

Tim presses his hand against the wound, trying not to be impatient. Trying not to feel sick with nerves. He doesn’t reply, knowing Dick isn’t really paying attention right now.

When the door finally opens, Tim could collapse with relief. Alfred stands there, one hand hiding his rifle out of their sight in an all-too-familiar pose, while the other holds onto the doorjamb. His hair is darker than Tim is used to, his face less wrinkled. He’s staring at them like they’re weird, strange boys, standing at what’s supposed to be a virtually unknown entrance to a private, secure home in the late hours of the night.

Blood covers Dick’s upper body and Tim’s hands, and they both look and smell rough. They don’t make a pretty picture, and Tim knows that, but there’s nothing he can do except get Alfred to let them in somehow. He’s been thinking about what he wants to say, what’ll appeal to Alfred’s compassion or curiosity or both. Please, help my brother before he loses too much blood. Please, don’t tell Bruce about this. Please, I’m so exhausted and I need a cup of your chamomile and a cookie and also maybe a hug or I’m going to explode.

What he says instead is, “ Alfred .” It’s a relieved sob, leaving him without permission, and Alfred’s shocked and confused reaction is much more noticeable than it should be. “I—we didn’t know where else to go. He’s hurt.”

There are more words on his tongue, an avalanche of them wanting to come out, but Alfred stops him there with a raised hand. He doesn’t put the rifle down, but he says, “Come in, then,” and opens the door wide enough for them.

Dick groans when Tim drags him up the steps. Blinking sluggishly at Alfred, he says, “Alf…?”

“Yeah, it’s Alfred. Come on, help out here a little bit. We’re just gonna sit down and hopefully get you patched up, alright, Dickie?”

“Hrn.”

Tim bites his lip at the Bruce noise, stupid tears stinging in his eyes.

He’s home. It’s unfamiliar. Dick is hurt. He’s in charge.

Now is so not the time to cry.

Alfred leads them to a nearby couch in a sitting room they’ve never used in all the years Tim’s known Bruce. Rifle still in hand, he seems much more unsure than their Alfred, who would’ve already had the situation on lock by now.

“We need a first aid kit, please,” Tim says. He glances at the weapon, and adds, “We won’t cause any trouble, I promise. I—I know this is probably super weird, but….”

But what? Tim can’t think of a way to end the sentence so he just doesn’t. Instead, he turns to Dick and starts pulling his brother’s shirt off, something they really should’ve done hours ago. While he uses the fabric to put pressure on the wound again, he hears Alfred moving around behind him.

If this Bruce is anything like theirs, a first aid kit shouldn’t be too far away. There’s one in every bathroom back home.

It’s not long before Alfred is back, shooing Tim away and setting a large first aid kit on the couch. His rifle is gone, but Tim knows it can’t be far. There’s no way this Alfred trusts them enough to not have it close at hand. “Do I dare ask what happened?”

God, it’s good to hear his voice. “My brother got shot,” Tim says, reverting to his natural instinct to reveal as little as possible. Normally Alfred is someone he can give a full mission report to, but Tim is just Tim right now, not Red Robin, and this is not his Alfred, so he’s going to keep his mouth shut up tight.

“Well, my word. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him.” And there’s that Alfred sass. It doesn’t make him laugh like it usually does—no, it just reminds him again that he isn’t actually home. “Care to explain more? Should I be concerned you were followed?”

Tim thinks on it for a minute, but really, there’s no way Maroni’s guy got up in time to tail them. The rest of the mob family have probably heard about them by now, but Tim isn’t too worried about it. He can’t find it within himself to be. All he can really think about is Dick, Alfred, Bruce. If coming here was a mistake after all. If they’ll ever make it home to see their Bruce and Alfred. Eventually, he says, “No. We weren’t followed.”

Dick groans as Alfred starts to prep the gunshot wound to get the bullet out. He sways a little, dizzy, and mumbles an apology when Alfred has to readjust him.

Alfred says, “Just hold as still as you can, and you’ll be alright.”

Hearing the tenderness in Alfred’s voice does something to Tim. This is Alfred , he thinks. He can help us with more than just this.  

He blurts out, “It was one of Maroni’s men.”

“Sal Maroni?” Alfred sounds suspiciously uninterested, not even bothering to look away from his work. “The mob boss?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Alright, young man, I’m going to get this bullet out now.”

“Tim,” Dick grits out, reaching out his hand. Tim takes it, sitting down on the other side of his brother. He forces himself to watch as Alfred goes through the familiar motions. Dick doesn’t actually squeeze his hand that much, too used to this kind of pain, but Tim thinks maybe they both feel better having the lifeline.

He stays there until Dick is stitched up and accepts a dose of Tylenol—no matter how much Alfred gives them concerned looks and insists on something stronger, a Bat doesn’t take hard drugs.

Not quite huffing in exasperation, Alfred acquiesces and leaves Dick alone, sitting back against the cushions. Then he turns to Tim. With his hands on his hips and his sleeves rolled up, he’s honestly kind of intimidating. “Now you, young man,” he says.

“Um. What? I’m fine. I didn’t get shot, I don’t need anything.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow. Tim can out-stubborn almost anybody, even his other family members, but Alfred Pennyworth is not one of them. Everyone bows down to him.

Tim sighs and scoots a few inches away from Dick, and when Alfred shoos him all the way into the other corner, he goes. Surprisingly, the older man sits next to Tim, between him and Dick, and instead of reaching for the kit, he just. Puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Which Tim finds extremely weird, considering how British and physically distant Alfred is. Oh sure, he hugs them all. He catches them when they fall, he reassures them with arm pats and shoulder squeezes. But it’s unlike him to just... sit here and rest his hand on Tim’s shoulder, looking him in the face with an expression Tim finds he can’t read.

Not being able to read people, especially someone he knows so well, freaks him out.

Tense, Tim says, “What?”

Alfred is quiet for a moment, then asks, “Where have you boys been staying?”

Oh. Yeah, okay. He’s suspicious of them. Tim can understand why. “We have a place.” It’s a disgusting alley behind a pizzeria they can’t afford to eat at, scraping by with the last of the money they had on them when they were sent here, but it’s not a lie.

Alfred backs off, picking his battles and probably recognizing this one for what it is: unwinnable. He’s more than perceptive enough to read between the lines anyway, add up all the clues—their clothes are dirty, their hair greasy, and Tim knows he’s looking pretty gaunt. And considering how jumpy Tim is acting, it’s likely Alfred thinks they’re homeless. Which they are.

“Are you injured anywhere?”

Tim holds out his hand, his knuckles split and raw from earlier, and ignores how badly he’s shaking. Alfred takes his hand, and grabs alcohol wipes from the kit. He dabs at the wounds, glancing at Tim’s face like he’s expecting a reaction. And yeah, it stings a little, but he’s had much worse. This is nothing.

“Hmm.” Alfred moves Tim’s hand around, looking for other wounds, finding a few little cuts. “So your brother’s name is Dickie?”

“Dick,” Tim corrects. Bruce and Jason are the only ones who call Dick that usually, and Jason almost always does it because it’s his ‘little brother duty’ or something. The only reason he said it earlier is because he hoped it would be comforting. “Short for—”

“Richard, I assume.”

“Yeah.” Tim falls silent, trying to keep his hand still. When a few moments of silence go by, he looks up at Alfred, finding him making an expectant face. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’m Tim.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tim. You seem to already know my name.”

Yeah. Shit. Unable to think of a lie beyond ‘you look like my grandpa’, Tim laughs nervously. “Lucky guess?”

Dick snorts. “You jus’ look like our gran’pa, that’s all. His name’s Alfred. Yours too, huh?”

Alfred doesn’t look convinced, but he goes along with it anyway. “Yes, mine too.” What an odd coincidence , he doesn’t say, but Tim hears it anyway.

It doesn’t take long after that for Alfred to finish up Tim’s knuckles. He offers to put some band-aids on, but Tim shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Dick gives him a look, and despite the fact that he’s still acting loopy, there’s a strength to it. Tim can tell what he’s thinking—that if the cuts weren’t on the knuckles, a very awkward place to put bandages, Dick would be insisting on it. Well, whatever , he thinks, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue. You’re not in charge right now anyway.

Alfred stands and looks them over for a brief moment, hesitation obvious in the way he pauses, inhaling deeply. Then, with determination, he says, “I will prepare you something to eat. Do either of you have any allergies I should be aware of?”

“Sulfites,” Tim says at the same time Dick says, “Shellfish. And pet dander.”

“Dick, man, I’m pretty sure they don’t have pets. And even if they did, pets aren’t allowed in the kitchen under any circumstances.”

“Oh yeah,” Dick says with a faint chuckle. “Forgot.”

“Mister Tim,” Alfred cuts in before Tim can reply. It’s unspeakably weird to be called Mister Tim instead of Master Tim, even though Alfred called him that for years. “Will sandwiches suffice?”

The thought of eating Alfred’s food—and even more than that, something they haven’t fished out of a dumpster—is drool-worthy. Quickly, he agrees, “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

Alfred nods and leaves, probably thankful to get the heck away from them for a few minutes. Once he’s gone, the brothers fall quiet, both a blessing and a curse. Not having Alfred asking questions that Tim has to evade is great, but it does give him the opportunity to keep freaking out.

What do they do next? Alfred might not let them leave while Dick is healing, and that means the chances of running into Bruce raise astronomically. Tim knows that he won’t be able to handle that. Not at all.

“Stop it,” Dick whispers, loud in the overwhelming quiet. “I can see your forehead vein from here.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to think.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Tim sighs, letting the banter drop for a moment. “Look, I’m sorry you got shot. I know it’s not my fault,” he says, speaking over Dick’s immediate protest. “I know that. But I’m still sorry.”

“…Thanks. I’m accepting your apology but not your responsibility.”

“Duh.” Tim fiddles with his hands, satisfied but also knowing, in his heart of hearts, that it is in fact his fault and Dick is totally wrong. “I’m not sorry I brought us here, though.”

“Duh,” Dick repeats, sounding more than a little peeved. Not that Tim can blame him, really. If Tim and Damian had agreed to something, and then Damian went back on it… that’d be really annoying.

Still, that little brother duty Jason talks about means he has to defend himself. “Dick, we were gonna end up coming here anyway, don’t you see that?” He shoots to his feet and drags his hands through his hair, pacing in front of the couch. Despite his earlier flip-flopping, he’s sure now. This was the right decision even if it does suck a lot. “Where else could we possibly go? We don’t belong here. The only way we can get home is by ask—”

Tim cuts off immediately when footsteps echo down the hall. They sound different from Alfred’s, a third tap that sounds a lot like a cane.

This Alfred doesn’t use a cane. The only person who could is—

Both Dick and Tim tense as the doorway is filled up by Bruce freaking Wayne.

“Um,” Tim says.

Bruce looks different. Not just in the sense that he is, in fact, using a cane, but just. Everything. He looks younger, a neat beard covering much of his face. There’s barely any salt in it at all. The scars that litter the skin of his face and arms, mostly bare considering he’s wearing only a t-shirt and pajama pants, aren’t there. Worst of all, there’s no recognition in his eyes.

His sons have become strangers. But no, this man is not their father. Tim has to shout it at himself. He’s not! Bruce Wayne would never look at them like this. Especially not Dick.

Dick makes a noise, a small and sad little whimper, and Tim thinks, shit. Shit shit shit. Unable to do anything to help, Tim shuffles closer to him, hoping it’s enough to comfort.

“Who are you?” Bruce asks, moving further into the room. He says it casually, like this is a totally normal situation, but there’s steel there, too. Of course there is. This is Bruce Wayne. He doesn’t mess around, especially when it comes to strangers invading his home. And as much as that feels like a knife to the chest, that’s what they are. Strangers . The word lingers in his mind, leaving a bad aftertaste.

Tim gets the distinct feeling that the cane, for all that it serves to help Bruce walk, is a weapon. One this Bruce will have no issue using against them. “Um. We—we’re homeless,” he blurts out, trying to push the thought away. “And my brother got shot, so we came here looking for help. We’ll be gone soon, I promise. Don’t worry about us, this is just a one time thing, and we won’t tell anyone else. I know this is a house and not a triage center.”

Bruce is already looking at him like he’s an intruder, but at that, the man’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Oh, right. That’s something the other—the right —Bruce would say. Has said many times. Because it’s something their Alfred has always said, and apparently this Alfred too.

Scrambling, Tim keeps going, pasting a fake smile on his face. “Alfred knows we’re here. He’ll be right back. It’s okay, we’ll just wait right here and not steal anything, so you can go back to bed. Goodnight.”

“Tim,” Dick bites out, obviously trying to communicate that he thinks Tim is being a weirdo, and that he’s doing nothing but tipping Bruce off to the fact that something is wrong.

“I’m freaking out, okay?” Tim exclaims back, curling and relaxing his fingers in an effort to control himself. It’s impossible, though—this is their dad , for crying out loud. Their dad, who they haven’t seen in a long time, not since before they were attacked as civilians and flung through the wormhole that deposited them here. Their dad, who Tim really, seriously needs a hug from right now.

Bruce comes closer, leaning against one of the two unused chairs. Where Tim tenses further, unsure of what he’s about to do or say, Dick relaxes. He’s really out of it now, the blood loss and medicine finally catching up with him.  He’s blinking heavily and listing to the side. “Hand me that, will you?” He asks Bruce, gesturing to a throw blanket resting on the top of the chair.

Suddenly feeling very protective of Dick, Tim says, “I can—”

“No,” Bruce interrupts, the corner of his mouth curling up like he thinks this is funny. “I’ve got it.”

He grabs the blanket and walks over to the couch. Tim stumbles back a few steps to give him room. For a second, it seems like none of them breathe—but then Bruce leans on his cane like a crutch, bends down, and lays the blanket over Dick.

Tim has seen Bruce tuck people in before, usually Damian. All those times, he either didn’t care much, or a swirl of jealousy had tightened in his stomach. He can remember wondering why Bruce didn’t tuck him in. Why his parents never did it, why Mrs. Mac and all the nannies hadn’t either.

This time, his eyes sting with tears.  He forces them back, biting the inside of his cheek.

Dick snuggles into the cushions behind his back, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Thanks, dad,” he mumbles, slipping off into a nap.

Bruce and Tim both freeze.

“Um,” Tim says, because something has to be said, this needs to be nipped in the bud and stopped right now before Bruce can ask anything. But really, the chances of Bruce Wayne not asking questions? Less than zero. And Tim’s brain is screaming, because what the hell could he possibly say to explain that ?

Alfred enters the room again before anything can happen, carrying a tray holding a few sandwiches. He sets it down on a side table before looking up.

“Oh,” he stops short when he sees Bruce, hands hovering above the food. “Master Bruce, I thought you were downstairs.”

“I was just doing some reading,” he waves off, but he can’t quite manage to sound casual. “Now… did he just call me dad ?”

Oh fuck , Tim thinks. Awkwardly, he laughs, “No! What? No, that’s ridiculous.” Seeing that this tactic isn’t working—Bruce and Alfred both have legendary ‘bitch please’ looks that go beyond the confines of time and space, apparently—he shifts gears. “I mean, okay, yes he did. But—but it’s just because you look like our dad! A lot like him, actually. Haha.”

Bruce and Alfred stare at him, concern building as he keeps laughing, spurred on by a week of non-stop stress and the pressure of being in charge— maybe , he thinks, this was a bad idea all along and we shouldn’t have come here and Dick was totally right. It’s only when his laughter turns to hiccuping sobs that either of them move, Bruce managing to grab his bicep in time before Tim can sink to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Alfred hurries to his other side, fretting, “Come on, young sir, just sit down now.”

They lead him to one of the chairs, where he collapses, his head in his hands. Dick is better at this—at leading, at interacting, at not breaking apart. It should all be the opposite: Tim sleeping off a GSW while Dick lies through his teeth as he explains what’s going on. Not that Dick would’ve gotten them into this situation, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, refusing to look up. They’re both staring at him again, clearly unsure what to do with a strange, crying teenager.

After a moment, Alfred says, “You boys say I look like your grandfather, and now Master Bruce looks like your father. By chance, what is his name?”

“Bruce Wayne,” Tim replies to the floor. “But… not him. A different one.”

“A different Bruce Wayne?” The confusion and curiosity is clear as day in Bruce’s voice, and Tim can’t help but snort a little.

“Yeah. Um, this is going to sound really crazy, but my brother and I are from a different universe.” He peeks at their faces, not surprised at all by the blatant disbelief he sees. “I can prove it.”

Alfred and Bruce share a wide-eyed look.“How?”

“I know you’re the one who’s been sending the GCPD all those case files. And before you say you’re not, you just said you were doing some reading. Downstairs. In the cave below this property, right? Back home, it’s called the Batcave and you’re Batman.”

“Go on, Mister Tim,” Alfred says after a moment. “We believe you.”

Relief crashes down on him and more tears slip out against his will. “I need your help. We need your help. We’ve been here for a week, and—and—and we have no idea how to get home. None. There’s no one else we can turn to, ‘cause the people who would usually help us either can’t or wouldn’t, since they don’t know us here. And god, this world is nothing at all like ours…. I just want to go home. I don’t know what to do. Please,” he begs, desperate. “I need advice.”

Bruce hesitantly sets a hand on Tim’s back, rubbing up and down in a motion that is, wow, extremely soothing. “We’ll figure this out, Tim. I promise you, Alfred and I will help you boys any way we can.”

Before Tim can ask if it’s just because they’re his sons in some other universe, Alfred clears his throat. “It may take some time, mind you. But you and your brother will need to stay here anyway, seeing as that wound needs time to heal. I can’t, in good conscience, let that happen out on the streets.”

Tim wants to refuse. Wants to say thanks but no thanks, you can put us up in a motel or something until everything is worked out. Wants to cry and cry and wake up from this nightmare. Instead, mentally and physically exhausted, he just says, “Okay.”

Both men are concerned by the response, he can tell. Though he isn’t looking, he can practically hear the silent conversation they’re having over his head. Then Alfred stands. “I will make up two of the guest rooms, then, sirs. Mister Tim, could you help bring Mister Dick upstairs?”

“Just set up one, we can share,” Tim replies. It’s late and he doesn’t want Alfred to have to do anything more than he’s already done. Than he’s already doing.

“If you’re certain….”

“I am. Thank you.”

He’s not gone for long, and thank god, because Tim can hardly stand to be alone with Bruce without spilling even more. He’s already said so much tonight, he feels empty and hollowed out, kind of like a balloon that’s been blown up only for all the air to wheeze out of it, leaving it sad and stretched. Holy shit, that metaphor. He needs to go to bed, and he needs a mattress instead of another cardboard box laid over hard cobblestone and concrete.

Shaking his head to stop his thoughts, he moves over to Dick and wakes him, a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Dick, wake up,” he says a few times until his brother is blinking heavily at him.

“Wha’?”

“We’re gonna go upstairs and sleep. Come on, I’ll help you.”

“Hrn,” he says again, and this time, Bruce hears it. Tim glances at him, almost surprised to see the emotions on Bruce’s face. Apparently that’s a Bruce noise in this universe too, and it only helps to cement Tim’s story.

Tim helps Dick stand up, swinging Dick’s good arm over his shoulders. Together, they slowly ascend the stairs, something Tim is more than familiar with considering how many times something like this has happened at home. At the top, they meet up with Alfred, who takes them to a guest room that is thankfully unused in their version of the Manor.

Alfred helps Dick get settled into the mattress, his shoes and belt shed. “I could get you both some pajamas,” Alfred says when he sees the way Tim flops down, both of them still in battered, dirty, expensive chinos.

“We’re okay,” Tim says, aware that the only pajamas in the house must belong to Bruce and Alfred, and that neither size would fit them. He’s not sure he could handle it right now even if they did. “Thank you though. For…for all of this. It means a lot.”

Alfred graces him with a gentle smile. “Of course, young sir. I would like to think that your Bruce will appreciate this.”

He leaves, and then it’s just Tim and Dick. They’ve shared a bed plenty of times before, on nights when there was no one else around and they didn’t want to be alone. Dick was the one who taught Tim one of the best parts about having siblings: cuddles. Dick is a cuddle monster, but maybe tonight Tim won’t wake up being held protectively to his brother’s chest.

Under the covers, Tim stares at the ceiling. His mind refuses to shut off even though they’re finally somewhere safe. Somewhere he can sleep and not worry about what might happen when he’s not paying attention.

He feels a little better, now that there are actual adults in charge, who are going to help. Who can keep Dick from getting hurt again, especially from Tim’s carelessness. But it makes him miss home, just reminds him how far away he and Dick are from their real family. He’s curious, on some level, about this Bruce Wayne. He trusts him to take care of them long enough for them to return home. How long that’s going to take is a question, though, one that he thinks can probably be answered by: a long time.

It’ll be good for Dick, at least. Give him time to heal.

God, Dick shouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. But of course he did, and of course it was because of some dumb argument, because of Tim—

“’M not perfect,” Dick whispers, making Tim, who was certain he was asleep, jump. When he turns to look, he finds Dick’s eyes are closed. Squeezed shut. “’M not . I don’t know what I’m doing, Tim. I didn’t wanna come here ‘cause of the rules, and ‘cause it’s hard… hard to see them. ‘M lucky I getta sleep through it, I guess.”

“Dick—”

“I woulda done the same thing, okay?” And now he opens his eyes, meeting Tim’s head on. “This was the right choice. Coming here. Alfred gives the best advice.”

“Yeah.” Tim’s throat feels thick, the word hard to get out.

Dick reaches out his good hand and rests it on Tim’s cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here. You saved me. Now go to sleep,” he says, and then teasingly smacks him. “I can hear you thinking all the way from here.”

“You’re like two feet away,” Tim points out, but he tries to listen anyway. He closes his eyes, thinking maybe he will be able to rest. Dick is the best at comforting people.

“Shhhh,” Dick says, grinning. “Doesn’t matter. Sleep.”

“Yes, mom.”

“ Shhh !”

Tim laughs, and for the first time in a while, it’s real. He feels safe and warm and not alone, and while he can’t exactly say he’s happy right now, he’s a lot closer than he was just a few hours before.

Tomorrow , he decides, settling down, I’m going to take a shower and eat a real meal. And then, then I can finally start figuring out how to get us home.

[racingtoaredlight]

The Gibson ES-335

“Yeah this guitar is the one that I played the majority of my sessions and solo records on. The choice to get the 335 was actually a very practical choice for me.  So I play a lot of different styles of music and I wanted to get a guitar that could cover a lot of bags, so I didn't always have to switch to a bebop guitar for this...blues guitar for that...this one covers most of the bags that I want to play or was called on to play.

So that's how I ended up picking the 335, and the little store I went to in 1969 to buy a 335, there were three hanging on the wall and I chose this one because it sounded the best to me, and the rest is really history, isn't it? Brand new...yeah 1969...although I ended up carrying everything but this one seemed to cover most, so I didn't have to keep pulling a new guitar out."

-Larry “Mr. 335″ Carlton

***

The “big three” of the electric guitar are the Fender Stratocaster and Telecaster, and the Gibson Les Paul.  The extent to which these three models dominate just about every era is about as close to complete as possible.

The Telecaster has had an almost total lockdown on country music since the 1960′s.  I’ve since deleted the posts, but in my rundown of the greatest guitarists ever, a legitimate 2/3′s main guitar was a Stratocaster.  And the louder music became, the more the Les Paul came into play...the guitar which, thanks to Jimmy Page and Slash’s iconic imagery, might be the defining guitar of rock music.

Of those three, the two Fenders would be on most guitarist’s lists of most versatile...with some compromises.  The Les Paul can get around ok in cleaner settings, but not like the Fenders.  It’s just too thick of a sound and, combined with the humbucking pickups, overdrive amps at lower volumes.  Where the Fenders are crystal clear, the Les Paul is muddy.

Enter the ES-335.  Arguably the most versatile electric guitar.

***

There are variants of the ES-335 that I’m going to lump in just to make things easier.  The ES-345 and ES-355 both had fancy things that the 335 didn’t...mainly a variable tone switch that was fucking stupid, and a Bigsby tailpiece that knocked you out of tune and was fucking stupid.  Oh, the 355 had an ebony fretboard with block inlays...you’d know this one as BB King’s “Lucille.”  They all sound about the same.

If you want a rundown of notable users of the ES-335 and its variants...Eric Clapton (above), BB King, Freddie King, Chuck Berry (and Marty McFly), Dave Grohl, Rich Robinson (Black Crowes), Otis Rush, Alex Lifeson (Rush), Chris Cornell, Roy Orbison, Alvin Lee, Larry Carlton (Steely Dan and a million other people), Duane Allman, Eric Johnson, Joe Bonnamassa.  If we include Epiphone variants, we can add Gary Clark Jr. and Robben Ford to the list too.  I guess the Beatles too, if we’re doing that, but fuck them.

What makes the 335 different than the Les Paul...even though many guitarists consider them relatively interchangeable (as long as you’re not playing anything high-gain)...is, obviously, that it’s hollow.  Kinda.

***

“Semi-hollow” refers to the solid block of maple running down the middle of the body, which the pickups and neck are mounted to.  The top, bottom and sides are made of layers of laminated maple, the two parts are pressed together, and there you have it.

A kinda solid body, kinda hollow body, hybridy type thing.

It still has a lot of that heft that a Les Paul has, and adds a sweetness the Lester sacrifices power for.  And while they absolutely cover a lot of the same ground...personally, I consider them interchangeable...the biggest differentiator is if you play jazz, it’s the 335, and if you play high gain stuff, it’s the Les Paul.  Solely due to the 335′s feedback issues from being hollow.

That sweetness is what makes the 335 so versatile.  That heft the Les Paul brings to the table is a liability in lighter styles of music.  Not light in terms of “smooth jazz” or whatever, but in terms of requiring a musician to be nimble.  Genres like funk and R&B and country don’t need a guitar sound that’s huge and heavy and in your face.  But the 335 has clarity, and that clarity is what makes it a more versatile instrument.

***

So if you’re reading this and thinking that I’m setting this up as some sort of “335 is the greatest guitar” type thing, you’re not far off.

Everything that Larry Carlton said about the 335 at the very top, I said when I bought my Fender Stratocaster.  The reason I went with a Strat over a 335 was a value proposition, more than a musical one...I got my Strat and a professional-quality leather gig bag for $1,500 while you’re going to spend about $3,000 on a 335 (average-condition used 335′s from undesirable Gibson eras start the pricing around $2,300).  Combine that with the Fender not having Gibson’s fragility issues*, again, it was almost purely a value proposition...you can’t play a guitar if it’s in the shop.

*The Gibson headstock is angled backwards in order to ensure a proper break angle for the strings passing through the nut.  While this gives every string the proper break angle, it creates an Achilles’ Heel where these beatifully crafted instruments that feel like they could go through war, can actually be rendered useless with nothing more than a fall from a couple feet.

But make no mistake, essentially from my 2nd year of music school, I knew the 335 was the guitar for me.  I’ve played hundreds of 335′s and its variants.  Played a ‘59 with mini-block inlays in Dallas, a ‘62 sunburst at the Dallas Guitar Show, a Memphis Custom Shop gold top in Nashville, a ‘69 ES-345 here in Cleveland...

Not to mention countless “regular” and Custom Shop models at various guitar stores through the years.  The 335 is a natural landing spot for jazz guys who play rock and blues, and it was where I naturally gravitated towards.  Before I bought my Strat, I had passed on opportunities to get a 335 because I knew how well they suited my style of playing, and how many opportunities I’d have down the road to pick one up.

I could say that “I miss nothing when I play my Strat” but that’s not true.  I miss that heft and control you get with humbuckers, and with the 335 I get some of those Strat qualities without the Les Paul’s muddiness.  It’s just...again...the Strat was half the price and I can beat it to shit without feeling bad.

***

The 335 doesn’t have the stardom of the Les Paul, which is fine.

While there are some stars who used a 335 variant, in reality, the 335 was designed for the guys behind the star.  Despite it being a huge instrument in either red or super glossy black, it’s an instrument made for the background.  The stars can pick and choose what they want to play, but if you’re hired to support that musician and cover a ton of bases, you want something that gives you the most bang for your buck.

Things are different today, but back in the good old days a professional backup guitarist might be asked to play jazz, country, blues, rock and maybe even disco in the same night.  There are really only two guitars that can cover all of those bases and not miss a beat, the Strat and the 335.

Now, I haven’t included many sound examples on purpose.

Philosophically, I boil guitar down into two macro “tones”...clean and dirty.  This is in reference to level of overdrive...you can play clean but still dirty, like funk rhythms...as well as dirty and clean, like playing precise leads with a lot of overdrive.  But if we’re talking about music in the middle...i.e. not extreme metal or sterile minimalist stuff...you can break it down into clean or dirty.

Effects, processing, all that shit that goes down with pedals and modelers and simulators...all that stuff is, is a more convenient way to improve a lacking sound.  The better your playing and note choice is...something only possible with hours and hours of experience...the less reliant you are on these things, and the more the equipment you do use shines.

Larry Carlton is known as “Mr. 335.”  His biggest solo hit was titled “Room 335.”  His home studio is known as “Room 335.”  He reached the pinnacle of the session world, despite not really playing on as many sessions as his peers, because of how incredible his skills as a musician, producer and bandleader were.  And he did almost all of it on a 335.

He’s the perfect guitarist to use as an example of what the 335 is capable of.  These tracks have no effects, are just Carlton straight into a Fender Tweed Deluxe.  The first track “Josie” is a clean example...just listen to the beginning gutiar part and then the fills during the last 45 seconds of the song...beautiful clean tone.  The second is “Kid Charlemagne”...the comping during the verses has great clean tone too, but focus on the leads.  Especially the closing solo during the last minute.  It’s very overdriven, very saturated, but still clean where the notes are distinct.

That’s the beauty of the 335.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Icarus and the Sun

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/whrMIkn by interprehendere Every year Panem would round up one girl and one boy ages 14- 19 from each district for their annual hunger games. A tradition kept for nearly 100 years. It was five years ago that Darla Aquisita died in the games at only 14. Bernard knew this because he knew her. And it seemed that was the year things began to change for him. Darla, though only a year older than him, was one of three. The other, a boy by the name of Tim Drake. The son of a victor- Janet Drake, who had won the games a year before Tim was born. They met not long after Bernard's father was placed as the district Mayor. He, Darla and Bernard grew close very quickly... nearly as quickly as it was lost. It was only the next year when an accident set the Drake home on fire and both his parents were found dead in their beds. Both friends lost to him in just under a year. He's been alone ever since. But every year he thinks of them. Fond in memory. Words: 1624, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Hunger Games (Movies), Young Justice - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Dick Grayson, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Garth (DCU), Damian Wayne, Virgil "Static" Hawkins, Bart Allen, Avery Ho, Roy Harper, Kara Zor-El, Jules Jourdain, Terra, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, Clark Kent Relationships: Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Hunger Games AU, but make it timbern, Angst, very little comfort, Abuse, Murder, injuries, Death, Minor Character Death, Heavy Angst, depictions od mental illness, depictions of trauma, depictions of ptsd, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Falling In Love, Explicit Language, Non-Explicit Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Semi-Canonical Character, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, its gonna be long maybe, i do apologize for the angst i have in mind., Trans Tim Drake, Bisexual Tim Drake, Gay Bernard Dowd, It's important to remember Tim is trans, dead robin: do not eat, no beta we die like jason todd read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/whrMIkn

[mizmahlia]

It, uh. It got a little angsty. You’ve been warned.

Dick followed Damian out of the theater and through the lobby, smiling softly as he listened to him talk about the movie.

“I wonder if they have any clue how close they came to telling his actual origin story,” Damian mused, pausing at the main door to wait for Dick to catch up. “Do you think Billy’s seen it yet?”

Dick shrugged and pushed through the door before holding it open for Damian.

“He’s been with the League since before the movie opened, so I bet he hasn’t.”

Once outside, he inhaled deeply, savoring the lungful of fresh air. The theater was stuffy and warm, so the cool, early evening breeze was refreshing. The storm that dumped heavy rain on them when they got there must have quit only a few minutes ago, based on the puddles everywhere.

“I hope someone takes him to see it.”

Dick smiled as he fell into step next to Damian, heading back toward his apartment for dinner. Damian was recovering from a bout of bronchitis and wasn’t allowed to patrol until Friday, so he was staying with Dick on his mid-week days off.

“Clark likely has it planned already, so I wouldn’t worry.”

Damian nodded and jammed his hands in his pockets, taking in the city around them as they waited at the corner for the light to turn. Rush-hour was finished and now that it wasn’t raining, people weren’t in such a hurry to get back inside. There was a young woman with a toddler standing in front of them, and the toddler was staring over her mother’s shoulder at Damian with wide, green eyes. He pulled a face and she giggled, hiding in her mother’s long hair.

Dick glanced down at him, raising an eyebrow and trying not to smile too widely.

“Careful, D. You might give people the impression you’re a softie like me.”

Damian’s cheeks turned pink and he rolled his eyes, not giving Dick the satisfaction of a reply. He was trying really hard not to smile but when she looked at him again, he stuck his tongue out. She shrieked and it made her mother turn and laugh, too.

“She likes you,” the mother said fondly. “She’s usually shy around people she doesn’t know.”

“She has good taste,” Dick replied, nudging Damian with his elbow and grinning when his face reddened further.

The light turned green and she stepped out into the crosswalk, glancing both ways first. Dick and Damian followed, Dick now recalling how he babysat for Roy once and he hadn’t had a clue how to take care of a colicky Lian. Damian paid him no mind, continuing to make faces at the little girl. They were walking a little faster than Dick and Damian, so they were further out into the street when he saw it.

There was a red sedan approaching the intersection way too fast and it turned sharply toward them, forcing two other vehicles to slam on their brakes and swerve. The screech of locked brakes and the blaring of multiple car horns frightened the toddler and her eyes went wide as they met Damian’s.

In the seconds before the sedan entered the crosswalk, Damian lunged forward and grabbed the strap of the carrier secured around the mother’s shoulders. He pulled her toward him as hard as he could, then swinging them back behind him, toward Dick. His momentum got them out of harm’s way, but it put him directly into the path of the sedan.

He focused briefly on Dick as he wrangled both mother and daughter behind him, relieved they were out of the way. Dick had turned away from Damian to make sure they were safely on the sidewalk, and that’s when he heard it.

The sound of the car colliding with Damian was loud and Dick flinched. He spun on his heel, trying to spot Damian in the chaos.

“DAMIAN!”

He heard someone shout to his left.

“Over here!”

“Someone call 911!” he barked. “NOW!”

“I’m already on the line with dispatch,” came a reply.

“Tell them Bruce Wayne’s son was hit by a car,” Dick ordered, pushing through the crowd. He didn’t care about the obvious name-drop, if it meant help arrived faster. His breath caught in his throat when he finally got a glimpse of Damian.

He’d come to rest in the middle of the street about twenty feet from where the car struck him. Dick sprinted out into the street and his shoes slid across wet pavement as he came to a stop. He kneeled next to Damian, his hands frantically trying to find a place to touch him that wouldn’t hurt him further.

Damian was lying on his side facing away from Dick, his arms and one leg contorted in such a way Dick knew there was no way he’d ever get full use out of them again. Instead of rolling Damian onto his back and risking further injury, he crawled around to his other side so he could see Damian’s face.

His eyes were open, and he was staring off into the distance, but he managed to focus on Dick when he gently touched his fingers against Damian’s neck. His pulse was faint and sluggish. Dick’s stomach lurched at the puddle of blood spreading beneath Damian’s temple, and the angle at which his head rested against the asphalt.

“Are they okay?” Damian asked, the three words taking a great deal of effort. Despite the slurred speech, his voice was steady. He managed to focus on Dick’s face, though Dick noticed immediately he wasn’t turning his head to look up at him. Trying not to scare him, Dick bit his tongue so hard it bled. He nodded and felt the tears fall to his cheeks before he swiped at them with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, kiddo. They’re okay.”

“Good.”

Damian coughed and choked, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. Seconds passed, and he hadn’t drawn a breath or opened his eyes. Dick rested his hand against the side of Damian’s neck again to see if he was still breathing when he opened his eyes and wheezed. There was still no movement in his arms or legs, however, and Dick’s heart sank even further.

“Are you okay?” Damian asked, his voice dropping to a ragged whisper.

This time Dick was unable to smother his sob and it tumbled past the hand he’d been using to cover his mouth. He nodded again and combed his fingers through Damian’s rainwater-soaked, tangled hair.

“I’m fine, D. You should have let me save them, though. I would have left a bigger dent in that asshole’s car.”

“Tt. Not enough time, Grayson.”

His eyes were more focused on Dick’s face now, searching for any sign of what was going on around them. Dick noticed that familiar, intense stare, and while he was grateful Damian was lucid enough to stay with him, he knew what was coming.

“How bad is it?” Damian asked. A small trickle of blood began running from his nose and Dick used his sleeve to wipe some of it away.

“I think it’s safe to say you won’t be on patrol this weekend,” he joked. He was trembling uncontrollably and his eyes left Damian’s face, moving down his body, taking an inventory of how badly he was injured.

“Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

Dick’s eyes widened as he looked down at Damian again, piercing green eyes demanding to be treated like an equal. Dick opened his mouth to try and give Damian an answer, but he couldn’t find the words as he took in the broken bones and distinct lack of movement anywhere. He was pulled from his thoughts when Damian spoke again.

“Richard, please?”

Dick took a deep breath and grabbed Damian’s left hand, the one nearest to his field of vision, and squeezed, keeping his eyes locked with Damian’s. When there was still no response, he shook his head.

“It’s bad, Damian.”

Damian’s eyes darted from Dick’s face down his arm, landing on his hand wrapped in Dick’s, his thumb stroking Damian’s palm. He felt nothing and blinked back tears, looking up at Dick once again.

“Are you in any pain?” Dick asked, changing the subject while his other hand softly caressed Damian’s forehead.

“No, I don’t think so.” His words were slurred and heavy. Though he was still able to look at Dick, there didn’t appear to be much recognition in his eyes any longer. The intensity they held moments before was gone.

Dick glanced up in desperation as sirens wailed in the near distance. They were only two or three blocks away from the sound of it. Someone mentioned the driver was drunk, and several people said they’d stopped him from trying to leave the scene. He squeezed Damian’s hand. Whether he was trying to reassure Damian or himself, he wasn’t sure.

“The ambulance is almost here, just hold on.”

When there was no response, Dick looked down. Damian’s eyes were still open and though there was a pulse against Dick’s fingertips, the beats were few and far between. Panic bloomed in his chest and he lowered himself into Damian’s line of sight. His breath hitched when he was met with an empty stare. 

“C’mon, kiddo. Stay with me,” he whispered.

No response.

“Damian?”

Mortal Kombat Sentence Starters

[chromium7sky]

Facade of shaded winter part 5

A/N: it's been a long time I haven't update this story lol and you guys can read this story under the tag of damirae and facade of shaded winter. Enjoy!

Jason and the blight team which consist of Roy Harper, Arthemis and Bizzaro the Gigantia guarding the west gate of titan wall. "I wonder who'll be in charge guarding the North gate if Damian and Mr. Wilson goes to Phoenix Pavillion to hunt the Queen? " Roy asked Jason as it disturb him ever since it's been 4 days Damian and Mr. Wilson away fron the Gotham bay.

" There's Jon, Collin, Maya and new Member, Katie. So no worries." said Jason as he polished his shotguns after he assembled his riffle back. " Cass will be in charge from now while Damian is away and believe me, no demon shall escape from her sight. " Jason added.

"Talk about experties in combat and assault, I heard that she could defeat a Knight-level Demon only by herself. " said Arthemis as she's on her binocular watching the forest and meadow field. Today is her turn to stake out. "hahah, I wish we could defeat them one on one but yeah, that Bishop class really worn us out. Good thing the wall repaired well in two days." said Jason as he put all of his weapon on black shelf.

‎"Bizarro sense something. A door! " Bizarro suddenly sprang to action as the shimmering red light start to appear in the middle of the meadow field. " Looks like the devil didn't give us some rest. " said Roy Harper as he loaded his arrows and a couple of hand grenade. "They wait for no one except for their queen. " said Arthemis as she settle down her binocular grabbing her giant battle axes. Jason quick on his feet, doned on his armor, the Red Hood and grabbing his best sling gun and rifle. "It's onslaught time!" Jason put on his red mask and slide down the pole from their safe house at their tower.

-----

Bruce were mortified as he received Tim's report from the south gate. He said the front line officers were in serious injury after there's a Knight Class demon appear out of nowhere in the city. In the city. It seems someone has summon them from the inside though the Sentinel of magic have cast their Anti -demon barrier within the city.

"Looks like there's a thorn within the Gotham Demon hunters. " Bruce commented as he read the report. "This is bad. Has the situation been settled down?" Clark came into the room after his trip with Barry from another heavy guarded city, Metropolita. "Good thing Con was there when the situation happened. " said Clark as he read the communicator.

"So, how's your research, Barry?" Bruce turn his gaze at Barry hoping there's any news on how to terminate the link between the demon dimension to their's. "Still can't figure it out, man. I did try to cut it using speed force and one of Viktor's Motherboard device but no. There must be connection that can't severe through electromagnetic or electric current. " said Barry as tried to relax his shoulder after 3 sleepless night doing the observation. "I think it has connection with the Queen in Phoenix Pavillion as I was been informed by one of our frontline officer, Mr. Wilson." said Bruce as he remember the conversation he's having with Mr. Wilson.

"Frontline officer? Mr. Wilson? I wonder who.... " Barry gesture himself as the thinker trying to recognise the officer that has been mention by demon hunter that has been entitled as Dark Knight.

"Anyway, I need you to be aware and be careful. We need to prevent things that happening just like the south gate incident. If we could detect the culprit who did the summoning or something, that person will face their consequences." says Bruce as he studied the map and some pictures from the communicator.

"Right on. I will spread the words of it. " said Barry as he doing salute and dashed from the room with his speed force. "What's the matter, Clark? " asked Bruce while he's working on his tactics and strategies for other cities as he received report from other big cities like New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles and etc. "How in the world can a demon hunter summoning demon? I mean we knew this creature came out of nowhere right? " Clark expressing his doubt towards Bruce. "Unless... " an idea suddenly came to Bruce's mind.

"Clark. You know that this creature and their leader?" Bruce asked Clark to test his theory. "What we know is there some hot spot appear in the city and the demon with class we specify by their shapes, strength and ability. But the sentinel of magic did say there's more higher rank but they didn't receive any sign the leader will appear to our world. " Clark explained. "Oh. " Bruce murmured. His face grew more suspicious.

--------

Rachel now in her shop, doing check list some of her oitment, candle, potion stock before she lock the door. However suddenly she heard knocking. Solid, heavy, a man strength perhaps. She wonder who the hell is lurking in these time but ironic, she's also the creature of the night.

Slowly she open her door, leaving the chain intact as a precaution from the door getting bulge by unwanted visitor. A pair of green eyes gazed at her behind the door, her heart skip a beat as that visitor look into her eyes, with icy cold stare. "Oh, uh, can i help you, Mister? " she tried to keep cool her composture. "I heard this shop sell some oitment, medicine some sort. " she attentively listen to his voice. Stern, deep but somehow there's a touch of gentlemen. Perhaps he's an upperclass? A royal family member? "I wanted to ask a few question if you don't mind. "

Rachel look at the floor thinking is it best decision to unhinged the door, let the mysterious person in. "I'm a demon hunter, you don't have to worry. " as if he read her mind. "Well..." as she doesn't want him to suspect of anything, she unhinged the door and open it wide.

There he stood in his demonhunter dark leather armory clothes, his hair were neatly combed back but a few strand seems to fall on his window's peak forehead. He straight up his pose as Rachel open the door widely. " Well, come in, Mister... " Rachel invited him. "Damian." he introduce himself, short. "Damian. " she repeat the name, herself. The name fit for the person in front of her, she mentally note. "And you are? " as Damian came in open his heavy leather coat and put on the coat hanger. "Call me Rachel. " she smiled then went to her mini kitchen prepare for drinks. "Tea? "

He noded in response then sit at the nearest stool. Rachel then pass the cup to Damian as she take another stool and landed opposite of him. She took a sip of her tea as soon as she landed her rear on the stool. "So, what is the question, officer? " she maintain her cool composure.

[bangkokjacknews]

The Weekend Mystery - The Great Loch Ness Con Trick

If the Loch Ness Monster doesn’t exist, how come there have been so many pictures and sightings? And is Nessie really Nellie? The first documented sighting of a monster inhabiting Loch Ness was by Saint Columba in AD565. According to this, the Christian missionary was travelling through the Highlands when he came across a group of Picts holding a funeral by the loch. They explained that they were burying a fellow tribesman who had been out on the loch in his boat when he had been attacked by a monster. Columba immediately ordered young Lugne Mocumin, one of his own followers, to swim across the loch to retrieve the dead man’s boat. Detecting lunch was on its way again, the great beast reared up out of the water, at which Columba held up his cross and roared: ‘Thou shalt go no further, nor touch the man; go back with all speed!’ And with that, the terrified monster apparently turned tail and ‘fled more quickly than if it had been pulled back with ropes, though it had just got so near to Lugne, as he swam, that there was not more than the length of a spear-staff between the man and the beast’. The group of Picts, very impressed by all this, converted to Christianity on the spot. However, as evidence of a monster living in the loch for the last 1,500 years, this account seems about as reliable as the story of the tooth fairy. Not least because St Columba also claimed, a tad implausibly, to have had various other successful run-ins with Scottish monsters, once even slaying a wild boar just with his voice. Nevertheless, many were convinced by the Loch Ness tale. Then there was silence on the monster front until some strange sightings were reported in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. But the Loch Ness Monster, as we have come to know and love it, it wasn’t really ‘born’ until much later – not until 1933, in fact, when (prosaically enough) the A82 trunk road had finally been completed along the western shore of Loch Ness, connecting the western town of Fort William with the busy port of Inverness on the North Sea. Providing easy access for tourists and industry alike, the road also offered a route past the picturesque loch for the first time. Nearby Inverness had a long-standing and hugely popular tradition of hosting an annual circus. In 1933 Bertram Mills took his circus to Inverness along the new A82 for the first time, where his road crew would have stopped along the banks of Loch Ness to rest and feed the animals. Coincidentally that was when the sightings of the Loch Ness Monster began. Bertram Mills, ever the entrepreneur, quickly used the local story to his advantage by offering the £20,000 (nearly £2 million pounds today) to anybody who could prove that they had seen the great beast. It was a sum Mills seemed suspiciously unable to afford to pay out. But the public flocked to the area nevertheless, sightings soared and more people than ever before attended his shows in case the monster might make an appearance. But how could Mills have been so sure nobody could legitimately claim the reward? My theory is that he must have seen the famous photo of a plesiosaur-like creature taken in 1933 near Invermoriston by a Scottish surgeon and had known that it was no monster. At the time, sceptics claimed the photograph was a fake: the creature it showed must be an otter or maybe vegetation floating on the surface of the loch. It was even said to be an elaborate hoax created using a toy submarine. But Bertram Mills had seen an elephant swim before and must have realized the photograph taken was most likely of one of his animals bathing in the loch. Although the financial benefits of staying silent about this were obvious. Soon afterwards, on 14 April 1933, a Mr and Mrs Mackay claimed that they had seen a ‘large … whale-like beast’ idling in the loch and which had then dived under, causing ‘a great disturbance’ in the water. They had immediately reported the sighting to local gamekeeper Alex Campbell. Campbell, conveniently enough, also turned out to be an amateur reporter for the Inverness Courier. His embellished account of the sighting, entitled ‘Strange Spectacle on Loch Ness’, appeared on 2 May 1933 and brought him instant fame. The world’s monster hunters, not to mention the media, then descended on an remote area of the Scottish Highlands, only previously known for its fishing. The dial of Loch Ness Monster excitement was then cranked up even further by the Daily Mail, when they sent in a professional team of monster hunters headed by the wonderfully named big-game hunter Marmaduke Weatherall. The Mail ran a daily piece on his efforts to lure the monster from its lair and to bag the beast. And within just two days, the headlines announced he had found unusual footprints on the shoreline. A cast was sent to the BritishMuseum for identification and the Scots were revelling in the global attention their country was receiving. But the following week they were hanging their heads in shame when the cast proved to be the imprint of a stuffed hippopotamus foot, probably an umbrella stand from some local hostelry or tavern. Weatherall denied any mischief making and it was never proven whether it had been hunter or hoaxer who had laid the false tracks. The two most compelling photographs of the ‘monster’ are world famous. One depicts a creature with a long greyish neck that tapers into an eerie thin head rising out of the water, followed by two humps. Roy Chapman Andrews, an American explorer and director of the American Museum of Natural History upon whom Indiana Jones was based, went on record in 1935 arguing that he had seen the original picture and that it had been ‘retouched’ by newspaper artists before being published. He firmly states the original picture is of the dorsal fin of a killer whale. Most other experts disagree. As do I: to my mind, it is clearly the trunk of an elephant, with the first hump being the head and the second its back, almost certainly one of Bertram Mills’s, taken as the circus elephants swam in the loch. Hugh Gray was the photographer; ‘I immediately got my camera ready and snapped the object which was then two to three feet above the surface of the water. I did not see any head, for what I took to be the front parts were under the water, but there was considerable movement from what seemed to be the tail.’ This photograph has been declared genuine by photographic experts and shows no signs of tampering, unlike so many of the others. And that is because, in my view, it is a genuine photograph – of a genuine elephant. No retouching required.

The Surgeon's Photograph But the best-known photograph is the one taken by surgeon Robert Kenneth Wilson on 19 April 1934. Indeed it must be one of the most instantly recognizable pictures ever taken. From a distance of two hundred yards what has come to be known as the ‘Surgeon’s Photograph’ shows a grey ‘trunk’ of around four feet protruding from the water with a hump directly behind it and clear disturbance in the water around. Once developed and declared genuine, the picture was bought and published by the Daily Mail and the Loch Ness Monster industry was properly born. Curiously enough, when asked what he thought he had seen, Wilson claimed to have been too busy setting up his camera to take proper note, but thought there was certainly something strange in the loch. The next question then should have been: ‘Why didn’t you wait around for a while to see if it returned?’ because then he may well have seen the elephant surfacing, as it would have had to sooner or later. Then again, perhaps he did, but greed rather than valour influenced the better part of his discretion. As recently as March 2006, Neil Clark, curator of palaeontology at the Hunterian Museum in Glasgow, has stated (thus confirming something I have believed for many years): ‘It is quite possible that people not used to seeing a swimming elephant – the vast bulk of the animal is submerged, with only a thick trunk and a couple of humps visible – thought they saw a monster.’ Dr Clark also notes that most sightings came around the time of Bertram Mills’ reward offer for evidence of the monster. He himself believes that most other the sightings could probably be explained away by floating logs or unusual waves. More Mysterious World with Albert Jack But just as it seemed the eminent professor was about to finally blow the Loch Ness Monster out of the water, so to speak, he was asked by the BBC whether he believed there was a large creature living in the loch. To which he responded: ‘I believe there is something alive in Loch Ness.’ And he’s not wrong, is he? There must be ‘something’ alive in the loch; in fact there are lots of living things swimming around in it. But at least he didn't go on to say it was a 1,500-year-old sea monster, which it would have to be, as that is the premise upon which this whole story has been constructed. But to be fair to Dr Clark, the Loch Ness Monster is big business for Scotland. Consultants have estimated it to be worth in the region of £50 million per annum and rising. More that 500,000 tourists travel to the area every year in the hope of sighting the beast, despite Bertram Mills’ reward expiring with him. Some claim the industry has even created 2,500 new jobs. And the Monster Spotting Tour comes in at £15 a head. Dr Clark would not be popular in his home country if he finally dispelled the myth many love and even more rely upon. Since the elephant-heavy 1930s there have been dozens of sightings of objects of varying shapes and sizes. Even if paddling pachyderms are no longer the likeliest explanation, other theories are possible. Loch Ness is actually a sea lake, fed from the Moray Firth in the North Sea via the River Ness. Furthermore, the Moray Firth is one of the areas of British seawater most frequented by porpoises, dolphins and whales. Indeed seals and dolphins have been filmed in the loch many times. If the mind wants to see a monster, three partly submerged dolphins swimming in a row could easily provide the illusion of a thirty-foot, three-humped creature in the gathering gloom – especially after a few drams of the local malt. I have myself encountered a few three-humped monsters after a lively evening out before now. The BBC has used sonar and satellite imagery to scan every inch of the loch and found ‘no trace of any large animal living there’. But, as it has always been the case with myths, legends and fables, while it is possible to prove the positive by producing irrefutable evidence, it is never possible to prove the opposite argument. We could dam Loch Ness and drain it. We would then be able to take everybody still perpetuating the myth down into this vast new dry valley and show them every nook, cave and rock cluster, but still the hardcore believers would reply: ‘Ah, but Nessie may well be out in the North Sea at the moment just limbering up for another appearance.’ But of course that is not the reason at all. Everyone from Columba (who told that miraculous story, embroidered or otherwise, which led to his canonization) onwards has profited from retelling the tall tale of Loch Ness. The only surprise is that so many people have, and still do, strongly believe there is an unidentified prehistoric monster living in a Scottish loch. Some argue that is a historical fact; I know it’s just a hysterical one. I’m here to inform you, kids – there is no such thing as the Loch Ness Monster. Just don’t tell anyone it was me who told you. - Albert Jack Albert Jack AUDIOBOOKS available for download here  

  Albert Jack’s Mysterious World Buy Now Audio Books Other Platforms Assorted eBooks Read the full article

[coolgirl]

Fic recs masterpost

ok so i used to have a lot of fics masterposts on my old blog and people keep asking for recs + i wont be able to upddate them or anything anymore so i decided to just move them all to this blog

under the cut: AUS / arkham knight / jaykyle / jayroy / robin!jason / gen / angst fics 

*: last added (april 4) //   for some reason the links arent working so go to jasontodd.tumblr.com/ficrecs for the links, sorry!

AUS

The Virtue of Revenge | young justice au with jason as red x making his own team with roy, starfire, raven, and others. i love it, even if it has shaky moments and stuff pls give it a chance.

crystal silence creeping down | young justice/lost days au

Flicker from View | another young justice au

Live to Rise | yes. you guessed it. young justice au.

Collide &  Convergence | au where post crisis jason goes to the young justice universe

The Changeling Sequence | series where jason meets damian before he went to gotham. The last part is a wip that i doubt will ever get updated again, so uh be careful. read only the first or second part and forget about the third.

The Drag of Fate | au where jason is lady shiva’s son as well. Part of a series, which i also highly recommend but idk if they would be au as well

heavy on the heart | another jason and cass are bio siblings. A+.

Didymous | cass and jason are twins.

repairing the world | i dont know how to explain this series.. its an au and really really good. Jason doesn’t appear in all the pieces.

just go  | jayroy, wings au

In the Shadows (of Who We Used to Be) | jayroy, black widow & hawkeye au

The Family (or how Jason Todd was adopted by the Avengers) | marvel crossover

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna dooo) ♫ | jason is damian’s batman. iconic fic imo.

Rise (And Try Not to Fall) | star wars au

A Bird in Morning | bruce finds jason when he’s at the hospital after crawling out of his grave

Moment Between | ghost jason & ghost martha and thomas wayne

We’re not in Crime Alley Anymore | au where jason was younger when bruce took him (and he didnt become robin)

Perhaps The World Ends Here | marvel crossover, future jaykyle

Batten Down the Hatches | a few different aus here. young justice + helena wayne

My Brother's Keeper | jason & damian knew each other from before + damian arrives to gotham just for jason

When the Moon Found the Sun | main story is clark/bruce but it’s preetty cute. soulmates au.

Between the Light and the Dark* | damian & jason uuhm i cant remember what this one was about per se bc im reading like 5487 similar fics but yeah

Two Dead Birds  | time travel stuff

Red Blood, Blue Blood | jason (and the rest of the batkids) are bruce’s biological kids, yeah i wasnt a big fan of the premise at first either but its gud

Rebirth | talia & jason, mind the warnings

you belong among the wildflowers | kate n renee adopt jason instead of bruce

We're the warriors of tomorrow |  Cass, Jason and Damian meet while with the League of Shadows

Can You Hear Me?  | ghost jason

to death's other kingdom I will not go  | bruce makes it on time au

The Ties That Bind  |  The pit restores Jason's body but not his mind, Ra's makes him one of his assassins and Talia adopts him as her own.

death’s outlet song of life* | the gordons find jason before the events of lost days

reflections on shattered mirrors.* | talia & jason stuff

Come Alive* | young justice s3 based

A Path Upon The Ground* | au from lost days, eddie and jason meet again

ARKHAM VERSE

If He Had Come & the sequel  Desiderium | au where bruce rescued jason before he could become the arkham knight.

the roads we know

this gun needs no bullets

JASON & BRUCE CENTRIC (not romantic)

Quack | this one is so crackish but so so cute i love it, robin jason

If He Had Come & sequel Desiderium  | arkham knight verse and its so good and has a lot of bruce & jason feels

Neverland /  Keep Lying To Me | deaged/ little jason from another universe.. sad and cute

Icarus and Bubble Gum | fluff, robin jason

Knock On Death’s Door | bit of both but not so so so angst, red hood jason

dead and dying things | au

In Memoriam | angst, trying to fix their relationship, red hood jason

If the Fates Allow | angst, red hood jason

The D-Word | fluff kind of.. red hood jason

This Place We Built With Grace and Guilt | angst angst angst, red hood jason

I Love You | robin jason, fluff

Wayward Birds | fluff and angst, robin jason

yesterday’s gone, yeah it went away (i’ve been lost but i’m here today) | another trying to fix their relationship fic, its cute and sad

We’re not in Crime Alley Anymore | au where jason was younger when bruce took him (and he didnt become robin)

Little Absences | sad, robin & red hood

Schrödinger's Honest Man | sad, drugs tw, absolute fave

White Christmas | bruce & robin!jason

Frozen History | de-age

Stargazer | jason n bruce patching their relationship.. its iconic

Unconventional Family Reunions | bvs setting

Prompt: Trapped | mind the warnings

Safe In My Arms 

The Failures of Reverse Engineering  | ghhm not really bruce & jason maybe?

to death's other kingdom I will not go | bruce saves jason au

points of impact  | glass case get fucked

is it my fault? (we've been missing each other)*

waiting for you. *

The Little Things*

World's Finest* | my uwus my uwus have fallen everywhere

JAYKYLE (all iconic)

In Which Kyle Confesses The Same Thing Six Times

milk and honey

Batman vs Space Bureaucracy

deadlock

attention to detail

tempest in a teapot

violet tendencies

no love, no glory (no hero in his skies)

keep the door open for me

waffles and war 

The Art of Subtlety (jason lives au)

Perhaps The World Ends Here | marvel crossover, future jaykyle

Riding in Batcars with Boys

boy, you fill my lungs with sweetness

no chance, no way, i won't say it (no, no)  

a change in the atmosphere

invitation to commitment

Overexposed 

i deserve that, don't i, some sort of blazing love that i can live with 

i won't say 

The water is always warmest at dawn

JAYROY (all iconic too)

sleepless 

Countdown

just go (wings au)

Unspoken

(for thy love is) better than wine (E)

Rooftops

Dick Wolf is a Really Funny Name

A headache isn’t always a bad thing

sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies [high school au]

kairosclerosis 

The Night They Met 

march down an empty street (like a ship into the storm) *

Archange de la mort (rallume ton flambeau) * | hic warning lol

this time, the loser wins | steph & jason centric though

So Baby Come Light Me Up *

Little Talks *

All the light is never ending, much like you and I; *

Don't let me go, for I feel I may fall * | soulmates au

Something Reckless * 

OTHERS

how to make a home. * | some eddie/jason if you squint, rose/eddie/jason team up

This Car Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us* | could be read as jayconnor :3

Robin/young!Jason

The Art of Subtlety | jason lives au, jaykyle

Little Absences | sad, robin & red hood

I Love You | robin jason, fluff

Wayward Birds | fluff and angst, robin jason

Icarus and Bubble Gum | fluff, robin jason

Quack | this one is so crackish but so so cute i love it, robin jason

we were not tragedies | jason & babs, read warnings

Heavy Home | gen, alfred & jason

Good News (No One Mourns the Wicked) | Jason & steph & damian. harold they’re dead (kinda robin!jason??)

Love Yourself (So No One Has To) | good amazing au with some selina & jason (not really.. robin but it starts as robin!jason i guess?)

Moment Between | ghost jason & ghost martha and thomas wayne

We’re not in Crime Alley Anymore | au where jason was younger when bruce took him (and he didnt become robin)

Tired &  Laundry | kinda au, read tw!

Smoke | jason & jim gordon

White Christmas | bruce & robin!jason

is it my fault? (we've been missing each other)* | mix of present and past jason

Sidekick* 

waiting for you.* | technically baby jason

The Little Things*

World's Finest* | oh this one.. my uwus

GEN

hold on to what  we are, hold on to your heart | gen, Barbara & Jason friendship. Some dinahbabs & jayroy

gotta give the boy points | gen, absolute fave

Strangers in Nothing but Name | marvel crossover, side steve/bucky

If He Had Come |  Desiderium | Arkham Verse, gen

I can’t  think up a good  name for this | young justice verse, gen apart from canon relationships

A Better Thesis | gen, p short but i loved it

The  F-Word | gen, batboys being batboys

until i’m in my grave | gen, wip 

Robins United | gen, batkids bonding, except for cass, thats my only complaint

Free of Dogma | gen, canon divergence, marvel crossover w Jason & Bucky

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna dooo) ♫ | au where damian is jasons robin and not dick’s, obviously damian & jason brotp. 

Heavy Home | gen, alfred & jason

In the  Shadow of Two Gunmen | gen, Marvel crossover

Flicker from View | side Barbara/Dick, young justice verse

I Love You | gen, Bruce & Jason

how to  hide a stray resurrected superhero from your parents/parental figure | au, jason & tim friendship kinda

One For The Road | Jason/Roy/Koriand’r but its SO cute

Baby,  It’s Cold Outside | gen, Dick & Jason

The  (Family) Doctor’s  Appointment | gen, batboys bonding

The Family (or how Jason Todd was adopted by the Avengers) | marvel crossover, gen

Reason | wip, gen, canon divergence

Soliloquy | gen, tim & Jason brotp,  and really cute batfam moments

Red As The Shadow Of Death | gen, young justice/under the red hood verse

Give Yourself a Chance | gen, duke & Jason & leslie brotpish

homecoming | outlaws brotp fic, could be considered shippy if you want to

And I Said What About Breakfast at Tiffany’s | jason & steph

Of Bats and the Forsaken | jason & all the batkids, side steph/cass and jay/roy if you squint

this is a long drive (for three robins who don’t agree on much) | no capes au, steph & jason & damian, background tim/tam

The Dying of the Light | marvel crossover, bucky & jason, canon divergence

Cat | selina &  jason, catlad au

Killing for Love | cass & jason, au  where jason was lady shivas son  

Keep Lying To Me | de-aged au, just heartbreaking imo, cursed fic

The Social Habits of Robin | gen, batboys. Where_is_cass.jpg tho

Steph and Jay’s Excellent Adventures | series, Steph & Jason

Neverland | jason & batkids, young!jay travels to the future. sad asad sad

on a thin chain of moments and something like faith | gen, jason & cass & steph mostly. really good

Good News (No One Mourns the Wicked) | Jason & steph & damian. harold they’re dead

In a Parallel Life | batboys focused, it has amazing dialogue, dynamics, and characterization. It’s only missing Cass and the rest of the girls.

repairing the world | series, not everything is about the batfam.

Born to Run (Born to Rise) | Jason & Talia having a mother/son relationship reblog if you agree

Live to Rise | it updated again p recently so yay! young justice verse

To Save a Dying City  | jason + other people

Let’s Have Some Fun This Beat Is Sick | mostly damian centric

Movie Night: The Mummy  | read trigger warnings, batboys

The Trading Chain  | not jason centric, but it has cass being older than jason and calling him “little brother” so noice

we sure know how to run free  | jason & cass

Yesterday’s Voices | bruce loses his memory au

Nests and Cages series | read trigger warnings

Roots | barbara centric, really good plot and characterization

Love Yourself (So No One Has To) | good amazing au with selina & jason

Retrograde Motion | de aged jason au

Provenance | mostly roy centric, bruce fucks oliver’s life for what he did to roy. iconic

Schrödinger's Honest Man | sad, drugs tw, absolute fave 

Batten Down the Hatches | a few different aus here. young justice + helena wayne

My Brother's Keeper | jason & damian knew each other from before + damian arrives to gotham just for jason

White Christmas | bruce & robin!jason

until i'm in my grave v2 | this one is already mentioned in this post BUUUT the writer started rewriting it so!

Frozen History | de-age

Stargazer | jason n bruce patching their relationship.. its iconic

show me yesterday, for i can’t find today | time travel au

Warm Enough | alfred & jay fluff

Parallels | mia & jason team up

Legacy | reverse robins, not jason centric but hes there alright.. i think.. i cant remember :D

What are the words I'm forbidden to say?* | damian & jay fluff

Cracked Foundation| jason n damian

Cat's Cradle  | more jason n damian

spaces in between  | damian & jason again

When the lights go out  | damian & jason, theres a pattern here

in my head, i do everything right | some jason & steph

is it my fault? (we've been missing each other)* | past & future jason

life, if well lived* | jason travels back in time and meets martha & thomas wayne

In Charge * | babie jason

Pyrrhic victory* | jason & damian stuff

Twists and Turns* | more jason & damian bonding

Of Brothers and Batcows* | guess what.. yes! more jason & damian

This Car Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us* | jason & connor.. say no more!

First Gear* | back to jason & damian please read this.. damian tries to teach jason to drive

changing, falling, fading (please watch over me)* | jason bonds with damian & steph

ANGST

Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death [read the trigger warnings!!]

in the repairing the world series there are a lot of fics dealing with jason, tho Warm Enough ugh not all are centered around him. I would say read  Escalation | Coup de Grâce |  Interlude for the rh!jason arc, and  Tired &  Laundry for robin!jason. [also read trigger warnings]

Countdown | jason/roy]

those six days [trigger warnings again!!!]

Call | angst

the tune without the words  | kind of character study from jim gordon’s pov

Unspoken | jason/roy, really angsty if you remember how red hood arsenal ended

If He Had Come & Desiderium | arkham knight verse, read trigger warnings!

Reason | on hiatus :/

hold on to what we are, hold on to your heart   | this is my favorite ever.. read trigger warnings

Heavy Home | alfred & jason

until i’m in my grave [trigger warnings!]

Keeping Broken Pieces Together

Monsters | marvel crossover

gotta give the boy points | this one please!!!! another fav. read trigger warnings

The weight of it [trigger warnings!]

Live to Rise | young justice verse

Neverland | THIS ONE IS PURE ANGST!!! please its so sad..

Keep Lying To Me | this one has some angsty scenes too im sad emoji

hangman is coming down from the gallows  | some angst

Movie Night: The Mummy  | read trigger warnings, batboys

Love Yourself (So No One Has To)

All in the Blood [read trigger warnings]

Little Absences

Stargazer | jason n bruce patching their relationship.. its iconic

Rebirth * | mind the warnings and its really. sad.

The Failures of Reverse Engineering *

Eternal Soliloquy * | sad sad

throw me a lifeline (I might even catch it) *

changing, falling, fading (please watch over me) * | jason & steph & dami angst