#holy pick up a comic Batman

[fancyhandsbakery]

I'm sick and tired of people writing fanfic of things they've never read. What do you mean Roy and Jason are 20 and Dick is 29?!

[ufonaut]

Awareness came in slow, and he didn’t dare turn his head. The hand he’d know anywhere, but it was still a hand. If that wasn’t Parker’s soft snoring in his ear, Grofield didn’t know what he’d do. The decision was made for him when that big warm body turned in its sleep; and with the leg thrown over his and the arm around his middle, Grofield knew. It had been six years, and he knew.

(With Parker back in Grofield's life, a world of possibilities opens before him.)

[battymommastuff]

The Fire-Eater

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

*cough*

"Jesus Christ, you'd think they would dust up here once in a while." Jason rasps as he waves his hand in the air to clear the cloud of dust. Dick just rolled his eyes and lifted another box out of the way, causing another cloud of dust to poof into the air, "Where is this damn blanket anyway?" He asked, ripping open an old box to look for the blanket in question. Why? You, their adopted mother, is currently carrying their youngest sibling. The first, and only pregnancy of yours. Seeing that you aren't as young as you used to be, the pregnancy is a high risk. As per doctor's orders, you were to remain on bed rest now that you were close to your due date.

Before that, you'd been working on the nursery. Everything was perfect, but you were missing one thing. Bruce's baby blanket. A blanket you'd only ever seen in pictures, but knew that you wanted it for your future child. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be possible. All of your children were far too old for the blanket when they were adopted. Now you had your baby on the way, and you wanted that blanket. To prevent you from climbing up there yourself, your two oldest sons decided to.

"Some of the boxes are older than me." Dick joked as he held up a box of old photo albums. The date on the box was ten years before he was born. He set the box down, and kept shifting through the boxes. They were looking for a box with Bruce's birth year on it. All of his baby items were stored there. He moved another box then frowned when he saw one tucked in a far corner. It was opened, and he saw a black outfit lined with red sequins, an outfit he swore he's seen before...a circus outfit. What caught his eye next was a rolled up poster, "Hey, Jason." He called out while picking up the poster. Dick unrolled it slowly, then felt his heart sink to his stomach.

A poster for Haly's Circus. The Circus he was apart of before his biological parents died. He still remembered that day as if it just happened. On the poster was a woman eating fire. Her outfit, a black leotard with red sequins lining it. (H/C) hair, and (S/C) skin. Unless Bruce had a certain type, there was no way it couldn't be you. How? How was this possible? He remembered meeting you that night. You were dressed as if you just walked out of business meeting, and you were with Bruce. The date on the poster dated years before you ever met Bruce.

Dick set the poster down right as Jason approached him, still grumbling about all of the dust. He picked up a small book next. Opening it, he found pictures. Old pictures of you, and other members of the circus. You and Haly...you and his parents. You knew his parents? One picture was of you, his dad, his mom, and him as a newborn. You knew who he was before you ever met him? How come he never knew this? Why did you leave the circus? How did you end up marrying Bruce Wayne of all people?

"Holy shit, Mom never told us this." Jason said while holding up the torches and an old bottle of alcohol. What they saw in the bottom of the box made both of their spines tingle. A mask...a Court of the Owls mask. Dick knew the story, and he knew his lineage. He knew his potential fate, had he never been adopted. Why did you have a mask? All of these questions in his head, and he knew the one person who could answer them.

He shoved all the items back into the box, and stormed out of the attic with it. Dick wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He carried the box through the manor with Jason on his heels, while holding back his tears. He felt lied to? Betrayed? He didn't know, but he needed to know. He felt like you were an entirely new person now. Dick opened the door to your bedroom. You were watching as Stephanie painted your toenails, and Damian was lecturing you on your health.

"Oh! Did you-..." You cut off when you saw the box he was carrying. It'd been years, and you forgot about that box. Honestly, you thought you threw it out, "Dick..." Your oldest son walked over and slammed the box on the bed, causing your two other sons and Stephanie to glare at him.

"Start talking, Mom...right now."

[tossawary]

There's a really quick joke in BTAS that genuinely got me. It's in the episode "Eternal Youth", where Alfred and his girlfriend(?) Maggie Page go to a health spa being run by a mysterious woman named Demeter. Of course, this turns out to be Poison Ivy.

And when Batman has to go to this spa to save Alfred and Maggie, and he's confronted by Poison Ivy as she reveals herself, he says (I'm paraphrasing because I can't remember exactly) something like, "Only you, Poison Ivy, would name yourself after the Greek goddess of plants."

Poison Ivy has two henchwomen in this episode (who unfortunately never show up again) calling themselves Lily and Violet, also present. And either Lily or Violet responds, with something like, "Ooh, someone graduated high school literature."

And then the confrontation continues, but that joke fucking got me, because that IS a common level of mystery-crafting in comics and also this show specifically. Superheroes apparently have to know their Greek and Roman mythology (not just because of Wonder Woman's rogues) because there's a high chance a villain is going to pretentiously name some project by looking up mythology in an encyclopedia.

It also makes me think that it must be REAL easy for the Gotham rogues to frame each other for anything, which is sure to cause grudges and fights between them if it gets found out. Everyone has conveniently themed themselves! Maybe it fools Batman sometimes and maybe it doesn't!

"Aha, a green envelope with a purple question mark! It must be the Riddler again," says Robin. "When did he get out?"

But Batman just inspects the card and says, "Wrong type of paper. Wrong shade of green. Nygma is picky about the quality of his printing. Someone picked this card up from the greeting card section of the local pharmacy."

"Oh, huh, you're right," Robin replies. "Holy marketing mistake, Batman, why do they even sell these?"

"I wish they wouldn't."

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 4-The Kids Are Alright.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn.

Summary—One night causes this unlikely group of friends to realize that they need each other more than ever, just as it’s time to say goodbye to one of their own.

Warnings/Extras—strong language, drinking, Barns Courney mentioned (IYKYK), shameless Steve and Reader flirting so bad it’ll probably make you cringe, very brief mentions of someone getting sick/throwing up. MDNI, 18+! As always let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Switching bedrooms is much easier than moving out of the dorm. We decide to make it a weekend activity, and the hardest part is moving the beds around, which Ben and Steve do for me. Eddie helps me transport boxes of books and school supplies to my new room while Daizy removes my things from the communal bathroom and places them in my private one. She casually pulls a box of tampons from one of the bags she's filled, placing it under the sink.

"Thank God. I hated looking at those," Eddie thinks aloud, and I'm not sure he even realizes he said anything.

"It's just a tampon, Ed. You'll be okay," Ben dismisses, gesturing for Steve to help him lift the mattress onto the bed.

Eddie sits through a box of books, placing them on a shelf, surprisingly neat by his standards. “Women are terrifying.” He mumbles to himself.

I shake my head, bending down to pick a shirt up from a pile on the floor and threading a hanger through it.

Ben sifts through a pile of blankets in the corner, fishing out a set of sheets to roll into a tight ball. He chucks them at Steve, who barely catches the lump of cloth in time.

“Holy shit. You read comics?” Eddie’s excitement breaks the silence. We crane our necks to see him waving a comic in front of his face. Archie and the History of Electronics—somehow still in pristine condition since my grandparents gave it to me in 2001—sits slotted between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Careful, some of those are older than us,” I scold, snatching the comic from him. I plop down next to him on the floor, thumbing through Archibald Andrews’ adventures. A sense of nostalgia from days of hiding in my bedroom and reading these comics overpowers me, and I commit myself to rereading the collection when I have the time.

“Couldn’t collect cooler ones, like Spider-Man or Batman?” Eddie teases, knocking my shoulder with his. “You’re such a girl.”

“I have Spider-Man comics, thank you very much,” I snort, shoving him. He makes a show of it, rolling onto his side and faking a pained groan.

“Don’t listen to him, Sunny. He’s just jealous that you can read and he can’t,” Steve teases as he and Ben put the sheets on the bed. Well, almost, as Ben struggles an unreasonable amount. Daizy pokes her head out of the bathroom when she hears Ben groan in frustration, coming to rescue him from the dastardly Sheet Monster. She bumps him out of the way with her hip and takes the sheet from his hands.

“You’re a son of a bitch, y’know that Harrington?” Eddie smirks.

The room fizzles with quiet giggles. Steve shrugs, tossing one of my pillows at Eddie. The doorbell rings, startling me because I didn’t even know we had a doorbell.

“Pizza’s here,” Daizy grins. “Ben, where’s your wallet?” She saunters out of the room, prompting Ben to follow her with a look of suspicion. I hear him say something about not trusting her with access to his credit cards and she scoffs.

Eddie stands abruptly, leaping over piles of trinkets and clothes, his footsteps clambering down the hallway.

And then there were two.

I put the comic back into the box and move to the bed, plopping down with an exhausted huff. I sink into the plush of the mattress as I run my hands through my hair. Steve laughs at me, sitting next to me.

“Tired, Sunny?” He props himself on one arm, leaning towards me just enough so I have to look up at him.

I sigh heavily, tossing my hands to my side. “You’ve got no idea,” I admit. “I wouldn’t wish a STEM major on my worst enemy, and I’ve moved twice in a month,”

He nods as he listens, glancing at the walls. Posters from concerts, polaroids of Daizy, Ben and I from years of summer vacations. A singular dream catcher hangs above my bed, and I recall being told that they get full if they don’t catch the sun. I make a mental note to check if the bay window allows for sunlight tomorrow morning.

“You’re taking it too seriously,” he says suddenly. I furrow my brows, confused, and he elaborates. “Life, I mean. You’re in such a rush to have it all figured out. It’s funny, you remind me of Ben when I met him,”

I think back to the way Ben was before Chicago. If he’s a hard ass now, he was unbearably so in his younger years. He had to have the best grades, felt the need to be the most put-together person in the room. Ben didn’t really attend high school parties and, hell, I only convinced him to go to Prom once during his Senior year. You wouldn’t catch him dead cracking a joke like he does now, and I only saw him smile when we were alone or with Daizy. He was so serious because he had to be, or at least he thought so.

Steve and I sit in comfortable quiet for a while. It’s odd, because silence has always made me uncomfortable.

“Why do you call me Sunny?” I blurt out, a surge of bravery coursing through my veins.

He looks down at me, squinting as he laughs. “Besides your positive disposition?” He remarks sarcastically. I press my palm to his chest and push, but he doesn’t budge. My fingers catch on fire and I fight the urge to ball my fist into his shirt and yank him closer to me. He sucks in a breath, pulling away to lean back. “It’s the first thing I learned about you,”

I squint and think hard, lips pursed in a duck-like expression.

He chuckles at my bewilderment, a beautiful sound that reverberates through his chest. “You only eat your eggs sunny side up. You brother told me,”

My mouth makes an ‘O’ shape as I nod. I can’t help but wonder why everyone seems to know things about me before I do. Am I really that easy to read?

“He missed you a lot, ‘specially when he first got here. Talked about you nonstop,” he puts special emphasis on the last word, like it means more that way.

I cringe. “Oh, boy. I’m sorry,”

He frowns. “Don’t be. Shit, we’d just be sitting there watching Dracula, and he’d think of you. He’d say something like, ‘did you know bats use echolocation?’ Then tell us he only knew that ‘cause you told him,” he’s grinning like an idiot, and I can tell it’s a fond memory of his.

I smile, too. “Never thought he ever listened to what I said,” I admit. “Never thought anyone did, honestly,”

His eyes widen and he stills, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. I tilt my head at him, watching him tantalizingly as he scoots closer to me. Our sides brush as he leans in to murmur, “You, Y/N L/N, are a joy to listen to. I’ll listen to you talk all day, any day.”

The way his voice reverberates in that deep octave makes my stomach flip. I’m sucked into his puppy dog hazel eyes as he stares at me like, dare I say, I’m the only thing worth looking at.

I open my mouth to say something, but I’m crudely interrupted.

“You assholes better not be making out in there!” Eddie’s voice works in tandem with his heavy footsteps that bang down the hall, rapidly approaching.

Steve huffs, breath smelling of spearmint, as he rolls over onto his back. He digs his fingers into his hair, pulling at the roots. “Yeah, Ed. We’re totally making out,” he’s joking, but doesn’t sound amused.

Eddie ambushes us, turning the corner and leaning so far forward into the doorway that he nearly falls on his face. He’s got something hidden behind his back and I flinch, bracing for him to throw something at us. “Cute. Can I join?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Gross!” I gag, sticking my tongue out.

There’s light shuffling in the living room, the sounds of records slipping from vinyl covers and into the platter, the needle placed delicately on its grooves. Barns Courtney’s The Kids Are Alright sizzles through the record player, a cheap thing commandeered from Hawkins Place Thrift since we couldn’t afford a radio.

“Here, for your bravery,” Eddie tells us lowly, revealing two cans of PBR from behind his back. He tosses them to us, me first and then Steve. “Daizy’s got a bottle of tequila and a mission to make her last night a great one.”

I swallow thickly as I pop the can open. In the back of my mind I always knew my best friend’s stay here was temporary. After all, everything’s she’s got is back home. Her dad and little brother, her job at the record store, and her mom’s buried there. She’ll never leave Houston and I’ve gotta accept that. After all, I can still love her from afar.

She shouts my name down the hall. I force my smile down and hop off the bed, leaving Steve behind and brushing past Eddie. When I find her she’s already on the couch, bottle of Casamigos in hand and using it as a microphone as she belts out Barns Courtney lyrics. I turn to Ben, who gives me a disengaged shrug as he displays the array of pizza boxes. Daizy reaches down to me, grabbing my wrist and yanking me towards her. I fight to release myself from her capture as she seranades me.

I laugh. I knew this was her favorite song, but to see her so carelessly jump on the furniture and host a personal performance is relieving. She hasn’t looked so carefree in years, and I can’t quite put my finger on why she’s changed so much since being in Chicago. That is, until she turns to my brother and looks into his eyes, singing like a rockstar putting on their best performance. His eyes glitter in admiration as he smiles wide, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

My heart stills, a harrowing realization settling in my chest. I think they ‘like’ each other a little bit more than they let on…

I glance between them as they look at each other like they’re the only two people on the planet.

Holy shit. They’re in love with each other.

Honestly. Why am I surprised? I’ve watched them pine for each other since we were in elementary school.

Still, this complicates things.

Daizy leaves tomorrow.

I’ve got less than 24 hours to convince my brother—because let’s me honest, you can’t convince Daizy to do anything—to confess.

Eddie holds a pizza in one hand and his beer in the other, stepping onto our coffee table to duet with Daizy. I’m thankful for his inadvertent distraction so I can search for Steve. Ben yells at Eddie and Daizy to quit monkeying around on the furniture, slipping past the bar counter and not even acknowledging me as I slither into the kitchen.

Steve’s got his back turned to me, chowing down on a slice of pepperoni pizza and mumbling through bites into his phone.

“Steve.” I say seriously, grabbing his shoulder to make him face me.

He jumps, startled and squishing the pizza in his hand.

“Oh my God!” He squeaks, and I hear the person on the other end of the phone laugh. A woman.

I try not to let that bother me as I speak. “I need your help,”

“Better be pretty important to interrupt pizza night,” he tells me, waiving his now pulverized pizza slice.

The girl on the phone says something I can’t make out. I roll my eyes. “Ben’s in love with Daizy,”

Steve’s expression remains unchanged. “Yeah, I know,” he says matter-of-factly, pressing the smartphone back to his ear. “Yeah, no. I’m just talking to Sunny,” he says into the device.

“Steven this is serious,” I flick his shoulder and he winces. “Who are you talking to anyways?”

“Ow! You bully,” He complains. “I’m talking to Robin, Vickie problems,”

“What makes you qualified to discern girlfriend problems?” I test, folding my arms over my chest.

“I’m great with women, thank you very much,” he says, offended.

I hear Robin laugh at that.

“Steve Harrington, if you don’t help me, I’ll put a red towel in your next load of laundry and dye all your work shirts pink,” I threaten.

He freezes, glaring at me. “You wouldn’t dare,”

I tilt my head. “I would,”

“I’m seriously reconsidering your nickname. Something more evil would suit you better,” he grumbles.

“You’re so dramatic. Give me that,” I snatch the phone from him, ignoring his protests as I hold it up to my ear. “Robin,”

“Are you bullying Harrington without me?” Shes trying to suppress the amusement in her tone.

“Care to join me? Bring beer and Vickie. We’ve got pizza and a plan,” I wiggle my eyebrows and Steve groans, rubbing his face to ease his anxieties.

Robin laughs on the other end. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she’s whispering to someone that I presume to be Vickie. “We’ll be there in thirty.” The line goes dead and I grin, handing Steve his phone back. He gives me a glare, shoving the device deep into his pocket.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he says it like he’s trying to be serious, but I’m not sure he’s actually capable of that.

“Oh Honey,” I shake my head. “If this stresses you out, I’m about to be your worst nightmare,”

He folds his arms, leaning back against the kitchen sink. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s blushing. Must be the shitty lighting in this apartment. “Does that mean you’ll be sticking around a while?”

I shrug. I’ve contemplated the transient life, but it was never realistic for someone like me. I’m like mud stuck to the bottom of a shoe in the sense that once I’m somewhere, I don’t leave—not cut out for the ‘living life on the edge while traveling the world’ life, though I wish I was. “Lucky you, looks like I will.” I smirk, siping on my drink.

There’s so much more to say, along the lines of, ‘I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,’ but it sounds so cheesy no matter what way I reword it.

The record scratches as it plays a different song. Eddie jumps to turn it up. If we don’t get a noise complaint from this, it’ll be a miracle. Ben grabs Daizy by her waist, hoisting her off the furniture and onto flat ground. She pouts, and I think I make out the words ‘you’re no fun’ on her lips as she takes a swig from her bottle. Ben shakes his head and says something I can’t make out, reaching to take the bottle from her but she yanks it behind her. Eddie sneaks in, stealing the Tequila and taking a generous guzzle. I wince.

I know that doesn’t taste good.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I blink back tears at the bitter thought of it all. Just as she’s gotten used to the boys—and them accustomed to her—she’s just going to…leave? No. She needs to be here. I need her to be here.

“You okay?” Steve asks. I look at him and God, do I regret it. He’s got that stupid look on his face that’ll be my undoing: harrowing eyes and slack jaw, like he’s looking at me for the first time. Keep those fucking puppy dog eyes away from me.

It’s like I’m magnetized to him since we signed that stupid agreement. Maybe it’s the thrill of breaking the rules, or general spite. What’s the saying? When you tell someone not to do something they wanna do it more? Something like that…

Ben grabs Daizy’s hands and guides her into a poorly executed square dance, something I know he pulled straight from our middle school gym class. It's so goofy that I can't help but giggle, but I'm also just happy he's finally taking some initiative.

The front door swings open, causing me to jump.

"I brought booze and my girlfriend," Robin announces, swaying a pack of Seagrams in her hands vaguely in Vickie's direction. She makes a show of bumping my hip with hers as she sets the case of malt beverages on the counter. She moves to Steve, reaching over him without so much as an excuse me, snatching some pizza from the box.

Steve rubs his temples, mumbling something about her being a savage before sipping on his beer.

Vickie shyly sits on the beanbag chair in the corner while Robin cracks open a bottle, chugging half of it. I want to tell her to slow down, but I doubt she'd listen to me anyway. I glance at Steve and he's already watching her, shaking his head.

Robin snags my hand and begins to pull me into the living room. "C'mon, let's dance!" she giggles. I silently plead with Steve for help but he just shrugs, waving me away.

I'll forever remember this betrayal, I try to communicate telepathically. He laughs about something and for a split second, I wonder if I've got some sort of superpower I didn't know about until now.

"Rob, I don't know how to dance!" I protest, but she ignores me.

"Come here Big Boy," Eddie chants, hopping off the table and crossing the tiny apartment in one fluid motion.

"Get away from me," Steve says it like he's serious, but the front he puts up is shattered by how his sentence ends in a stutter. He allows his friend to guide him, and now the lot of us cram into our itty-bitty living room and dance--badly--to poorly played records.

An hour of screwing around and getting progressively drunker leads me to rope Robin, Vickie, and, regrettably, Eddie, into my Evil Genius plan. I only regret it because Eddie couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it, and he couldn't make our plot more obvious. He suggests we play spin the bottle, demanding that Daizy and Ben sit across from one another to "maximize fairness" as he snags an empty bottle from the counter. I count myself lucky that Daizy's been force-feeding my brother shots all night, or he'd have caught wind of what we were trying to do and I'd be subjected to his wrath.

I sit next to Daizy, Robin sits next to me, and Vickie beside her. Steve and Ben sit shoulder to shoulder, whispering and boyishly giggling over something I can't hear. Eddie takes a seat next to Steve.

Eddie goes first--because of course, he does--and his bottle lands on Vickie. She looks terrified and he puts his hands up in surrender.

"Ah it's okay sweetheart," he sighs as he crawls towards her, stumbling and nearly knocking over Steve's beer. "I don't bite." Eddie finishes, planting an obnoxiously loud smooch to the side of Vickie's head. There's some laughter and some teasing as her face beams bright red, and Eddie seems proud of himself.

It's Steve's turn, but as I observe the color drain from his face, he stands abruptly. “I’ll be right back,” he ushers as he disappears down the hall.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, boo! You coward!”

“My turn,” Ben is far too quick to grab all the attention in the room. I eye him suspiciously and he catches my gaze, shaking his head. It’s a warning, a caution telling me to drop it, though I’ve never been one to listen. I take another swig of my beer.

“Y’know, when we met, he’d have never passed up a casual game of getting drunk and making out,” Eddie titters, crushing an empty beer can in his hands.

Ben’s shoulders tense, and if looks could kill, Eddie’d be dead on the spot. But Eddie, none the wiser, rocks from side-to-side on his crisscrossed legs.

“Yeah, but that was a million years ago. King Steve’s an old fart now,” Robin hiccups.

“King Steve?” I scrunch my face up at the cringey nickname, and I wonder what someone’s got to do to earn such a title.

“Oh yeah. Dude was a total slut. Conquered the entire cheerleading team in one summer—“

“Alright, alright! You’re gonna make me throw up,” Ben complains, spinning the bottle. Some forgiving God must be on my side tonight, because it lands on Daizy. He shrugs nonchalantly, leaning on his knees as he scoots closer to her. “A deal’s a deal,” he tells her and she giggles, looping her fingers behind his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

It starts to get uncomfortable when they begin to drunkenly make out, right in front of all of us.

“Let me get in on that,” Eddie whistles, jokingly, and Ben pulls away to scowl. Daizy is quick to abandon him, sitting back down.

“Dude!” Ben complains. No one takes him seriously, bursting into drunken laughter, but I’m not laughing. I’m watching my brother, the pitiful look on his face making me instantly regret meddling in his love life. While everyone delves into a deep dive into other topics, Ben stares at something on his phone, brightness down but I can still see the blue light illuminating his contorted features. He’s focused, upset. I pretend to be listening to Eddie talk about his band that he formed in his teenage years, keeping my peripherals on my brother. When he eventually stands, slipping into the hallway like Steve did, I make an excuse about needing to use the restroom and follow him.

Clutching a beer bottle so tight in my hand that it might shatter, I tiptoe down the hall until I reach Steve’s bedroom, across the hall from mine. The light is on and I can faintly hear them talking about something.

I’m about to press my ear to the door but I catch myself, rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. I’ve never been accused of minding my own business, that’s for sure. Whatever’s going on, it’s clearly none of my concern. If it was, they’d have told me. I force myself to return to the living room, snatching another beer from the kitchen on my way. The circle is not really a circle anymore, more of an indistinguishable, round-adjacent shape.

“Well, shit. We’re down two people,” Daizy slurs. “Should we continue without them?”

I shrug, sipping on my drink. She gives me a shit eating grin, leaning forward and giving the bottle a spin. It lands on Robin and they both laugh uncontrollably, as Daizy makes a show of standing up on wobbly legs. She sashays. “M’lady,” she announces, holding her arm out. Robin snorts, clasping her hand on top of Daizy’s and using her to balance as she stands. They share a brief platonic peck on the lips.

Eddie stares at them, awestruck. I furrow my brows and crumple up a discarded beer can, tossing it at him to break his stare. He flinches, looking around as if he’s forgotten where he is. He takes note of my laughter, narrowing his eyes at me. “Freak,” I whisper-laugh.

“Edward, where’s your boyfriend?” Daizy turns to him. “It’s his turn,”

He seems confused, staring off into the abyss as the gears turn in his head. Suddenly, it’s like a light’s been turned on. “Oh! Steve? Shit…I got no idea, actually.”

“I’m right here, and I’m not his boyfriend. Actually been trying to get rid of him since he was abandoned at my doorstep, but no one will take him,” Steve interjects, taking a seat next to Eddie and roughing up his hair. Eddie’s expression twists with offense, shoving Steve by the shoulder playfully.

Daizy settles back into her place, while Ben is still nowhere to be found.

“Your turn, Harrington,” Eddie teases, patting his friend’s back hard.

Steve rolls his eyes, reaching for the bottle. “This is juvenile,” he murmurs. The bottle spins and spins, choosing his fate very carefully. The suspense is killing us, as the six of us staring down as this bottle makes a show of spinning halphazard circles. Slowly, but finally, the bottle stops, pointing indiscreetly at…

Me.

Oh fuck.

I think my insides just turned inside out.

There’s whistles and hollers amongst the group, while I secretly shrivel up and die inside. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss Steve. Quite the contrary. In any other situation I would in a heartbeat. If he was some random, beautiful stranger I’d met by chance, I’d allow that fire in my stomach to guide me without a fear of consequences.

But this isn’t chance but a cruel twist of Fate, and what a hateful bitch she can be.

Our precise circumstances complicate everything; we live together. With my brother, his best friend, who would kill him if—

“Are you two gonna stare at each other forever or are you gonna kiss?” Eddie broaches.

I realize then that I’ve been staring at Steve, and him at me. I wonder if we’re thinking the same thing. I question which one of us is panicking more. Steve’s got that goddamn look on his face again—the one that makes him look so innocent but you can tell he’s hiding something. All knitted brows and hard features, but I can tell my the way his lips tug upward that he’s a smug bastard about all of this.

“I can’t—“ Steve begins, but he’s interrupted. He looks almost thankful.

“They better fucking NOT,” Ben seemingly materializes out of thin air, and I magically find myself grateful for his helicopter-style brothering. I let out a breath I had no idea I was holding, lungs collapsing at the lack of oxygen. I just can’t seem to get another breath in, my chest burning and my hands sweaty. “Seriously, Munson? You know the rules,”

“Party Pooper,..” Daizy complains, closing her eyes as her head lulls backward to rest on the couch. Her skin is shiny with sweat and her lips lose their color.

“Hey… Daizy?” Eddie asks worriedly, shaking her shoulder.

Recognizing the signs that she’s overdone it—again—I lunge for her and catch her head just as it begins to fall.

“Oh shit,” I exasperate. I look to Eddie, him being the closest person to me. “She’s gonna get sick. Help me get her to my bathroom,”

“How do you know that?” He wonders.

“Just shut up and help me.” I groan, lifting her up. He obliges, picking her up out of my grasp in one fluid sweep. We breach the door of my bedroom just as she begins to gag. Eddie pushes the bathroom door open with his back, setting her down in front of the toilet so she can expel the contents in her stomach. I pull her hair back and tie it with a ponytail on my wrist while soothing her quietly.

Eddie gags, moving to lean against the bathroom vanity.

“Don’t you dare throw up in here,” I threaten, still rubbing Daizy’s back. He holds his finger up in a ‘hold on’ motion, dashing out of the room. I roll my eyes.

Once my best friend’s emptied her insides, she throws herself backwards, forehead glistening with sweat as she leans against the tub. “I think I’m dying,” she slurs, eyes closed. Her mascara streaks her tan cheeks, mixing with glittery eyeshadow that makes it look like she’s crying sparkles. It’s funny, because if anyone were to cry glitter, it’d be Daizy Aguado.

“You’re not dying, you’re drunk,” I sigh, flushing the toilet.

“No, you,” she counters. Yeah, me too. I don’t respond to her, sliding my arm under hers and heaving her upward. We’ve been in this situation more times than I can count, both with her and myself being the bastardly drunk one. It’s like a silent contest for us; who’s to get liver failure first? It’s looking like Daizy’s in the lead for now.

I maneuver her to my bed and she flops down heavily onto it, wrapping herself in every blanket she can get her hands on. I do my best not to laugh at her, but it’s impossible when she’s got herself rolled into my comforter like a burrito.

“Bug,” she says suddenly, like it’s important.

“Yeah?” I inquire, sliding under the covers next to her.

“I love you.” She lulls, turning away from me.

I snort, faintly, and I pray she doesn’t hear it. “I love you too,” I carefully cover her face with a blanket. I sleep with a lamp on because I’m secretly petrified of the dark, but she can’t sleep with light on her face, and there’s no way in hell I’m wrestling her sleep mask onto her eyes right now. “Go to bed, you drunk idiot.” I whisper. She sinks further into the mattress and I watch her, waiting for her to shoot awake and throw up all over me. She begins to lightly snore and I breathe a sigh of relief, settling into the bed myself.

My head spins, a concoction of exhaustion and alcoholism. I count myself lucky, because even though I’ll wake up hungover, at least I won’t be nearly as much so as Daizy.

I try not to think about how awkward it’ll be to face Steve in the morning after nearly being forced to kiss him—and I really try not to think about the fact I actually wanted to do it.

I grapple with sleep, listening to the faint voices and laughter of the boys, Robin and Vickie in the living room. Their presence soothes my anxiety, as I slip into a peaceful sleep.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**Free cheers, it’s finally done!

I’ve been working 50 hrs a week and have had no time to write.

I’m so sorry!

Wanna be tagged? Just ask! **

Taglist—

@g3n3zshack @rawrxbexjealous @melalsworld @adaydreamaway30 @tiptoebabe @micheledawn1975 @crispystarfishhottub @spookysace24 @thehairington86 @cuddlyklaus @mmmunson @pleasantsoulcolor

[desecrated-guacamole]

I know I’m *checks watch* twelve years late coming to this realization, and two years late to talking about it when it would’ve been at all relevant, but godDAMN

Young Justice wastes NO time being good after season 1. The producers really just said “hey, y’know all the characters and relationships you’ve loved seeing develop for the past 26 episodes? Well actually, fuck that, fuck them, and fuck you! Everything’s different now, everyone’s developed in new ways that you won’t get to see, but not even in a way that makes sense for a FIVE YEAR TIME-JUMP!”

Take Robin for example; in the five years that take place offscreen, Dick becomes Nightwing, Batman recruits Jason Todd as the new Robin, Jason Todd gets killed, and Batman recruits Tim Drake as the new-new Robin (oh and also Barbara Gordon becomes Batgirl). I love the Batfamily, but I can barely call it the Batfamily when we don’t ever actually see them becoming a fucking family! We don’t get to see Dick struggle with his mentor’s legacy, we don’t see Jason struggle to live up to the Robin that came before, or Barbara picking up crime fighting despite what Bruce tells her to do because fuck that guy. We don’t get to see any of them grieve Jason, we don’t get to see Bruce go off the deep-end, only to be brought back by a young Tim Drake, who shows him what makes Batman, well, Batman; helping those in need, saving people.

INSTEAD, we’re introduced to two characters we knew that are now wildly different with ZERO explanation as to why, and one that we’ve never seen before and is (so far in my watch) severely underwritten, but because they’re the characters we love from the comics we’re supposed to love them here. It’s using the iconography of the characters to get us invested without putting in any of the actual work DEVELOPING them as people. It’d be one thing if this was the first time we met any of them, but we’ve already been introduced to Barbara, and we’ve spent an entire season with Dick, but now both of them have undergone massive development we aren’t made privy to.

I read an interview with Greg Weisman talking about the time jump, and he says this;

“We wanted a big time jump between the first two seasons to truly illustrate what our series was about, i.e. GROWING UP. After that, honestly, it’s more about what feels right. There are always things we want to skip, so that they become reveals.”

Man, I wonder if maybe allowing the audience to actually watch the characters grow and change might illustrate that growing up thing better than just skipping ahead so you can make it a reveal??? Imagine a show where we get to see these characters grow up together, maybe even grow apart, some leave, some stay, some are replaced, some come back. Like, imagine getting to see Dick reckon with the fact that Batman REPLACED HIM, only to watch that replacement die! Imagine getting to see Tim Drake come to Dick for advice, instead of just skipping ahead to the point that they’re already an established team. Imagine getting to see M’gann help Gar learn to use his powers for the first time. Imagine the team throwing a goodbye party for Wally and Artemis! Imagine seeing Wally and Artemis continue to develop their relationship instead of just jumping to them being fully moved in and together! WE WERE ROBBED!!

Like I’m still gonna watch it (not in the least because my roommate’s already seen it) but I need everyone to know I’m doing it under duress. I love these characters, and they did not deserve this lazy bullshit. I do not understand how Greg Weisman made Spectacular Spider-Man because HOLY SHIT the writing decisions made on this show are pissing me off, and don’t even get me STARTED ON CONNOR AND M’GANN BECAUSE WHAT THE FU

[strawbuddy-luv]

Reading the Batman comics, and I'm ngl I thought Tim's parents being like criminally neglectful was a Fandom thing, and that maybe it was off handedly mentioned once or twice in canon, but like, holy shit Tim's parents are actually criminally neglectful. Like I always thought they were bad parents because if your child is able to go out at night and fight crime, in the crime capital of America, and you have no idea, then yeah you've got some issues with your parenting style, but Tim would actually be dead if it weren't for the neighbors butler. I know Miss Mac or whatever shows up occasionally, but seeing as Alfred tends to be the main one taking care of Tim when he's hurt, I'm not sure she's doing her job super well.

Now I'm not that far in to Tim's time as Robin yet, but this is just what I've picked up so far combined with other scenes I've seen with Tima and his parents.

[zahri-melitor]

Okay April Solicits let's go:

G. Willow Wilson on Action Comics? Okay that one I will drop in for

I had not noticed they got DUSTIN NGUYEN to do a Li'l Diana for Absolute Wonder Woman? Keep winning, best Absolute title.

I am fascinated to see what an Absolute Green Lantern involves, but it's also probably a title I'll sample for one or two issues only

Speaking of Absolutes...we are apparently continuing the omnipresent Parents theme for Absolute Flash. Robert Rudolph West is in this book being terrible? What a surprise for everyone.

....wait we are doing a World's Finest crossover with Justice League Unlimited? What? Surely this will not cause any confusion or problems, especially while we still have the unofficial Atom-Question-Challengers JL crossover storyline running.

Spurrier, did you just give Wally scouts? They're Bart's thing.

I don't even know what to say about the Secret Six solicit, so I shall merely sigh deeply

The Catwoman covers are really cool (though I'm unsure why we have the hanbok one)

I see Bryan Hill got a title and so Duke's getting appearances on a new team. Good for Duke.

All the Black Canary covers are good this month, and none of them make her look like a Japanese 12 year old! (Dustin Nguyen my heart)

OMG ARE WE GETTING THE RAVENS IN BIRDS OF PREY? Holy shit Kelly Thompson.

Oh, a new Fire and Ice title. I like the reference cover to the last run, nice. Can the Gals Who Are Pals accidentally kiss this time?

As Haven said, hopefully the Shazam hiatus is just maternity leave for Josie Campbell. One month sounded way too short as it was

Also just generally - WOW are we on a heavy push for the Superman office right now. Which I have no problems with, let me be clear - we're due for one to rebalance the titles - but it's extraordinarily obvious.

Looking at the trades, I have generally thought they've been making sensible decisions about the DC Finest line, but... I get the intention of the Batman ones, in that this is a direct sequel to the Year One and Two trade that is picking up the next year of Batman and 'Tec plus the two big graphic novels published over that exact period...but packaging The Killing Joke and Son of the Demon together with everything else here is wild, especially as, once again, they're not bothering to put either Batgirl Special or Oracle Year One with TKJ, and Son of the Demon should be packaged with at least Bride, even if you don't add Birth.

They are continuing to collect Balent Catwoman though, which is something we've needed, so kudos to that.

[zeroducks-2]

Read your last answered ask and HOLY SYMPHONY, YES, thank you for saying out loud, I never understood why fans needed the wholesome/american smalltown core batfamily trope; literally what drew me into batman and the robins was the fact that they were all so many different kinds of broken, they started to feel so real, so human that I could relate.

I don't know why people are so keen on losing this over some romcom moments.

Being totally honest, I'm not opposed to the phenomenon in and of itself. I would even encourage it in other circumstances. Like let's be honest, every fandom which is bigger than a handful of people has its own "house of happiness" fanfictions, its coffee shop AUs, a/b/o, soulmate fics, high school AUs and so on.

"What if these characters were all happy and loved each other and there were no problems or controversies" is part of the fandom ecosystem. What if they were in high school worrying about finals instead of getting brutally murdered by giant man-eating monsters. What if they met in a cafe instead of being doomed by the narrative into killing each other. What if one coughed up flowers for refusing to acknowledge their own feelings. You know, the usual fandom stuff.

The thing with the DC fandom specifically is how inescapable the "wholesome/american smalltown core batfamily trope" is. There is no tag you can filter or avoid, it doesn't matter how many people you block, how well you curate your fandom experience, you WILL be bombarded by Tired Sitcom Dad Bruce & His Troublemaker But Loving Kids & Their Wholesome Grandpa who bakes them cookies and tucks them to bed. We're talking lore-breaking, characters assassinating, Would Never Fucking Happen stuff here, and it's as inescapable as taxes when it comes to the DC fandom. I don't mind this kind of thing when I can avoid it, but when it comes to Bat-stuff it's omnipresent.

Was it only that I would still tolerate it though. Because the real reason why I am so pissed at that load of bull is the fact that people act like it's canon, or are genuinely actively convinced it is indeed canon, and more often than not bash actual canon Batman comics for being "too dark" and for not having stories that follow their fucking wholesome/american smalltown core batfamily trope.

"But Zero what about Wayne Family Adventures" WFA was created by people who had those headcanons, started out as an independent creation, and then DC picked it up. It is its own little universe and it has no bearings with the main canon continuity. Using WFA as an excuse to act like the wholesome batfamily bullshit should be the only canon that counts is the same as acting like the whole DC world should be made of blocks because LEGO DC is a thing.

Like I personally loathe WFA and will unfollow people who post it untagged, but it does have its place. Hell, even Fear & Hunger has its own canonical(ish) high school AU! There is nothing wrong with this stuff and I will advocate for its rightful place in fandoms, however I need to be able to block it, and I need people to stop acting like the dark, complex, controversial, CANONICAL version of the characters shouldn't exist, and the sanded down, cute & easily palatable (mutilated, deprived of everything that makes these characters interesting) version is the only one that should be around.

[randomthefox]

...What the hell am I reading.

Okay, even putting aside that Shadow says "I don't have time for this" and bounces for literally no reason, how does Batman psychically know Shadow's deal? How does he know Shadow lost someone close to him after just meeting the guy? How is he able to tell all that at the drop of a hat, and not just assume Shadow is a dick?

"The one you watched die in front of you" is a huge leap in logic to make when for all you know, the guy just has a stick up his ass! "You're a valuable asset in stopping Darkseid" - HOW DO YOU KNOW. YOU JUST MET THE GUY.

Holy shit, man. I know IDW's typical quality of writing is a dumpster fire on a good day, so it should go without saying, but I think this is the first time I've been gobsmacked by how amateurish it really is. Two characters meet, one of them psychically intuits the specifics of the other's tragic backstory FROM ONE LINE OF DIALOGUE and we're supposed to clap at that because Parallels(tm).

There was no other way to do that organically. We couldn't have had Batman, like, subtly pick up clues that Shadow's suffered a loss by examining his behavior over a series of issues and quietly pull him aside after defeating the big bad or something. Nah. Exposition dump smack dab in the middle of issue one. Because subtext and pacing are for chumps.

...AND AS IF SHADOW WOULD DISCLOSE HIS BACKSTORY TO A TOTAL STRANGER ANYWAY. FLYNN.

Truly, I am in awe.

This is legitimately worse than fanfiction produced by a 13 year old. Because the 13 year old would at least include some kind of allusion to the idea that Batman already knows who Shadow is, because the 13 year old author knows who Shadow is and he would thus write Batman as knowing everything he the author knows. But Flynn completely skips that step and just has Batman intuit everything about Shadow based on fucking nothing. This is honestly so embarrassing on every conceivable level. What an absolutely atrocious piece of shit.

also can't help but notice Shadow isn't acting ANYTHING like how he does in Shadow Generations btw. Almost like this comic and that game were written by two completely different people, one might think.

[darling-i-read-it]

Muffled Laughter - Laugh Part 2

Laugh Part 1 

Any!Bruce Wayne x fem!reader, Any!Joker x reader 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: the reader is having a lot of moral dilemmas, blood/injuries/cleaning up injuries, fighting (between bruce and the reader), let me know if I missed anything! 

Author’s Note: I am keenly aware I’ve been asked to do this multiple times but I loved the first part so much that I wanted to be able to give it my full attention. I think I liked how this part turned out lots <3 Again, I personally didn’t have a batman or joker in mind! I think my joker is very comic centric and therefore vague! 

Tagging those who asked for a part two in the comments here (I hope you guys don’t mind &lt;3): @lover-of-nights, @einxoxo, @joeykissymissy, @twinkledinkle, @burningfanflowercash, @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf, @theitchbbbb, @b4b3ttee, @kitwalker02, @violetparis, @russian-soft-bitch  (holy cannoli i didn’t realize how many people wanted a part 2 lol) 

Summary: When you wake up, the Joker is gone. You’re eager to move on with your life, away from the night of neverending accidents. He however, is not. 

Song: I listened to The World We Knew by Frank Sinatra an unholy amount of times while writing this 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

The sun seeping through the windows seemed like a traitor. Gotham never got the sun it so direly needed. Then it would illuminate the gloomy corners, the drug deals, the robberies that littered quiet edges. Your eyes opened slowly and you almost didn’t remember what had happened to you the night before. For a moment it was just you and the sun, relishing in the feeling of it on your face, trying to remember the last time you had seen it so clearly through the window. 

Then your legs started to ache again and it all came back. 

The night before was long. Your hair was still wet from the shower, damp as though it was too stressed to air out. You sat up, looking around. Your small apartment room was untouched. You threw the blankets off, the cold hitting you. Goosebumps littered your legs as you walked into the hallway, entering the living room. The clock above the kitchen counter said it was only seven am. People were going to work now on this nice Thursday morning. They were getting their coffee and trudging through the streets, passing the aftermath of the night before. They had no idea why some of the roads were closed. Most didn’t care to ask. This is Gotham. They didn’t want to know. 

The couch was empty. The blanket was folded. A note was on top of it. You rushed over to it, nimbly picking it up. You sat down, eyes scanning over it quickly. 

Thanks for the water :)

Too another night of chaos

J

The note was the only proof you had housed a criminal for the night. No one would know if you shredded it and tossed it aside. You held it in your hands, like it would run away if you let it. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, rereading the short phrases, looking at the way he signed the J. This could be police evidence. He had pointed a gun at you! 

You looked down at the blanket. He had slept here! You had let him sleep in your house!

It seemed even more ridiculous of a thought in the sunlight. 

A knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts. You could feel your own breath again. You folded the note and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. You looked through the peephole to find Bruce, standing with a worried look on his face and his hands on his pockets. You closed your eyes tightly. To your left was your broken phone, still shattered down the middle. You opened the door a crack. 

“Hey,” you murmured. You rubbed your eyes. 

“Can I come in?” he asked. You pursed your lips. He didn’t feel inviting. In fact, it felt like he wanted to argue. You were too tired to argue. 

“What happened to hello? Nice to see you? How are you?” 

Bruce wasn’t sure how to approach the events of the night before. He had scoured the streets for you, returning home and finding you gone. He interrogated Alfred more than he had intended. A desk had been broken. 

But here you were, alive, unharmed. 

“It’s nice to see you,” he said deeply. You wearily opened up the door. “What happened to you last night?” “My phone broke when I was walking home.” Would you hold the rest of it to your chest? Did Bruce even deserve to know? He had left you out there by yourself and he hadn’t even come to your house to see if you were alright? “I dropped it.” 

He wanted to push. Is that all? He scanned the room, the blanket on your couch. He needed to know what had happened. 

“Why did you leave the manor?” 

“I got tired of waiting for you.”

“You should have let Alfred call you a cab.” His voice was gentle but it made you feel like a child. 

“I can take care of myself.”

“Obviously not. You broke your phone.” I saw the Joker almost kill you. 

“I made it home didn’t I?” The Joker let me be. 

You should’ve hidden the note better. It stuck out like a sore thumb, sitting on the kitchen counter. Bruce looked around your small apartment, wondering how often he had been in here. You always met at the manor, having no need to visit your place. He sent cars to get you. He tried not to be judgemental. 

“I was worried.” You crossed your arms. 

“I’m fine Bruce.” Why weren’t you telling him what really happened? He expected you to dump it all immediately, to explain that you saw Batman, ever the menacing creature, protecting you from Gotham’s worst. Why didn’t you trust him with that information? 

How did you get home? You had been lost. 

What happened from the time he called you and the time you went to bed? 

“You said you were lost. How did you get home?” 

“I found the street signs. I was just turned around.”

“Why are you lying to me?” 

You bit your tongue. This was a confrontation you didn’t want to have. You shook your head. 

“Leave me be Bruce. Clearly you don’t care to be home when I’m there. We’ve known it needed to come to this.” 

“Come to what?” His eyes went wide. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

You hadn’t wanted to. In fact, you didn’t even mean that when you spoke. You just wanted him gone and this was the quickest way to get him to do it. 

“I’m fed up waiting around for you to decide I’m important to you,” you admitted. “I can’t do that anymore. I can’t see Alfred more than I see you.” 

“I have responsibilities-”

“Everyone has responsibilities Bruce. You’re avoiding me.” 

“Why are you lying?” he begged. You shook your head, backing away. 

“Rich, coming from you. What girl has your attention on the late nights in the office Bruce? You expect me to believe that you’re always home so late because of paperwork?” It was a low blow and you knew it. You had no proof he was cheating. 

You wanted him to leave but you were telling him everything else except to get out. 

There was a genuine hurt over his face. He quickly washed it away. 

“What happened last night?” His voice was more demanding than questioning. He needed to know how you got home. He had to know why you weren’t telling him the truth. He had never felt more like Batman with you than he did now. 

“Nothing,” you said. 

There was a long silence. 

He backed away and out the door. He shut it quietly behind him. 

You were left alone in the apartment once again, feeling like you had hidden a massive part of your life and not a ten hour period. 

-

It was surprisingly easy not to go to the Wayne Manor that night. It felt wrong to back out of the routine but once you had, it was simple. You remained on your own couch, the TV on, the sun down once again. 

You had gone out to get a new phone but called out of work. 

You kept the same number, in case Bruce called. You weren’t sure what you wanted him to say. You had been rude and secretive to him and you didn’t even know if he deserved it. Your morals had been all out of whack lately and you weren’t ready to let him know that. He would scrutinize you like a psychiatrist. He would forget his own issues and pretend you were far worse, like he needed to understand the workings of your brain. 

If you told Bruce Wayne you had housed a fugitive then he would turn you in. At the least, he would break up with you for good. You couldn’t blame him for it. But you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. 

You pictured him staring at his phone, unsure why you were lying, wondering if you were deflecting the cheating allegations onto him because something happened. You focused on the television as your eyes drooped with exhaustion. You hadn't even cheated. Why did it feel like you had?

You were starting to drift into a light sleep when there was a violent knock on the door. 

You sat up and stared at the door, willing another knock. When you were in between sleep and awake, even the most aggressive noise could seem fake. Just as it had the first time though, the knock came, longer now. 

You kicked the blanket off you and dragged yourself over. Through the peephole you expected Bruce, coming to make amends.

The peephole made the Joker look distorted, more so than usual. He had his face down so you couldn’t see him but you recognized the shaky demeanor. You unlocked the door and opened it fully. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. He pushed past you into the kitchen. You shut the door slowly as he rummaged in your cabinets and pulled out a glass. He put it under the tap, filling it up with water. 

His hand gripped the counter, knuckles turning whiter than usual. There was a tenseness in his back that hadn’t been there the night before. His hair was damp or greasy, hanging over his shoulders. 

“Jay?” 

He craned his neck to the side. You saw the side of his face. The makeup was smeared, a dark look over his features. You weren’t sure where the red paint started and the blood began. He drank the water quickly, Adam's apple bobbing. 

He slammed it down onto the counter. You narrowed your eyes, still deeply unsure why he had come back here. You figured he would either want to have you killed or never see you again. A chill went down your back, wondering if he was here to kill you. That look in his eyes was not comforting. 

“Needed some water,” he said darkly. You furrowed your brows. 

He turned to face you completely. 

You tried to suppress your gasp.

He had a large gash over the left side of his face. His shirt was torn, shreds down the front. There was blood all over him. You weren’t sure how much of it was his. He didn’t look like he was in pain but his right eye was swollen shut. He smiled, toothily, dirtily. 

“I was parched.” 

You were still taking it all in. You had seen some bruises and a cut once or twice but this was a whole different ball game. You approached him slowly, eyeing what seemed to be an endless amount of dark red. 

“What happened?”

“Don’t stay dehydrated for too long! I’m the new poster child.” He put his hands on his hips, doing a superhero stance. He relaxed quickly, not able to keep up his ridiculous grin. You met his gaze. It softened a bit. Whatever was running the crazy wheels back there slowed. 

“Can I help?”

“Well don’t just stand there.” You walked away to find a first aid kit. You felt his eyes on you as you walked, searching the cabinets. The last time you had needed it was when you had a cooking mishap. You had no idea how to fix him how he was now. “Bad guys got handsy with blowtorches today,” he explained whimsically. “You should see the other guy.” 

“I’m shaking in my boots.” 

“You’re not wearing shoes.” You laughed gently, shakily.

“It’s an expression.” You grabbed the box, turning back to him. He sat on the table.

“Your laugh is truly unparalleled.” You flushed and looked away. 

 You walked up to him and placed the first aid down, opening it up. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“People tend to start with the lips and then work their way lower darling.” You shook your head. You rummaged around as he watched you. His gaze felt intense and unwavering. You turned the tap on warm. You ran a cloth underneath it. 

Finally you raised it up to his face. 

“Want me to take off my shirt sweets?” He was wearing a suit, though it was hardly distinguishable anymore. He had lost the coat, all that was remaining was the button up and suspenders. Even those were hard to read with how torn up they were. 

“You might have to. You hurt there?”

“You trust me to tell you? Well then I’m hurt everywhere.” You gave him a look. He smiled, that familiar exaggerated smile. To your silence he rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.” He slid off the suspenders and warily removed his shirt. He had cuts down his chest but nothing nearly as bad as his face. 

“Did the Bat do this to you?” You tried to keep your gaze on the task at hand. No need to admire him. “Some of it. He never gets as close as he’d like.” He shrugged. “His whole ‘no kill’ motto allows for plenty of play time.” 

“This might hurt.”

“I can’t feel a thing.” 

You started to gently dab at the cuts on his chest. He didn’t react in the slightest, allowing you to get rid of the blood.

“Why did you come back?” 

You finally asked the question that had been nagging at you since you saw him through the peephole. You caught his eye only once but refused to make eye contact otherwise. He stared at you shamelessly, admiration or lust in his eyes. 

“I was thirsty.” You opened your mouth to speak again. 

Your phone rang. 

You both looked towards the living room where it was laying on the couch beside your blanket. The TV was on a low hum. You had forgotten to turn it off. You put down the rag and walked over to it. 

“That’s an annoying ringtone.” 

Bruce’s face covered your screen.

“Who is it?” You hit decline and tossed it back onto the couch. 

“No one.” You turned back around to the Joker and instead of facing your moral dilemmas, you picked the rag back up to clean his face. “I think I can clean this with alcohol.” 

“You got any gin? Or grape juice?” 

“You drink those together?” 

“I’m a character.” 

“You can say that again. Also, I meant rubbing alcohol.” 

“I know.” 

You grabbed his chin. He smiled through his pinched cheeks. 

“Don’t move.” 

His eyes remained on you as you started to gently rub his chin. You winced for him because he apparently had superhuman pain tolerance. The gash didn’t look as bad when you got down to it. You starred with a focused gaze, careful over his eye. His makeup smeared. 

You moved back a bit to see how it looked. 

You finally met his gaze. 

“I intend to stay the night,” he explained. “You have a lovely home here Y/N.” You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure what he was getting at. “If only you had a more comfortable place to sleep than the couch,” he teased. “Got any ideas for me?” 

You examined his face, the sly smile on his lips. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked away, breathing gently out of your nose. 

“I don’t let just anybody sleep in my bed.” 

“Selective. I like that in a woman.” You put some rubbing alcohol on a fresh rag. 

“That phone call was from my boyfriend Bruce.” 

“I don’t think cheating is beneath you,” he observed. “You’re going to house a fugitive either way sweets.” You wanted to argue but knew he was right. There was no use in arguing with someone who would win. 

Bruce could come back tonight, you thought. You dismissed it. Why would he? He had never cared before. 

You raised your new rag to the Jokers face. Before you could make contact he swooped in, lips crashing into yours. Your fingers extended out of surprise, dropping the rag onto the counter. He hummed against your lips. 

It was almost like he was laughing. 

Your phone rang again on the couch. You ignored it this time. 

Final Part

[bi-bats]

Imagine that due to Things and Circumstances DC has handed you the power to make 3 things canon for the rest of time and comics writers afterwards will have to actually abide by them!

What would you pick?

Okay after thinking long and hard about this, I have come to my conclusion. Also this is SUCH a good ask holy shit thankyousomuch this was SO fun to think about:

1. Jason cannot compromise his morals or stance on killing or guns.

Reasoning: the writers are using this to get Jason back in the batfam and I hate it. The WHOLE POINT IS THAT BRUCE CARES MORE ABOUT HIS MORALS THAN HIS SON AND I HATE THAT THEY'RE MAKING JASON COMPROMISE SO THAT HE CAN RECEIVE BRUCE'S LOVE. IT'S A BAD MESSAGE. THE POINT IS THAT BRUCE IS CHOOSING HIS MISSION OVER HIS SON AND THAT SUCKS, AND I FUCKING HATE WATCHING WRITERS BE LIKE "WELL HE'S RIGHT SO JASON SHOULD REALIZE THAT SO HE CAN BE A PART OF THE FAMILY AGAIN" LIKE NO THE OTHER POINT IS THAT THEY'RE BOTH RIGHT! THAT'S WHY ITS SO HARD. BRUCE IS RIGHT THAT ONE PERSON SHOULD NOT GET TO BE JUDGE JURY AND EXECUTIONER AND JASON IS RIGHT THAT THE PEOPLE WHOSE LIVES THEY'RE SAVING ARE USING THAT LIFE TO CAUSE MORE HARM ITS. ITS THE POINT. Its the point. And the fact that they're throwing out these two important conversations (bruce allowing his morals to define his love for Jason, which would be an incredible thing for him to work through, and the really legitimate conversation about how there is no right way to do what they're trying to do) because they want Bruce and Jason to hug is SUCH a disservice to BOTH of their characters. Woof sorry I went off about that one

2. They need to age all the young justice characters to college age and they aren't allowed to go back.

Reasoning: What the fuck is even going on with DC rn? The last comics I was reading, Tim was like 18ish, Kon was reading as like. 16 in one issue and early twenties in the other, and Bart was reading like a 17 year old. They're writing Jon as older than both Kon and Bart right now and I just. What the fuck is even going on? I know he was aged up but like. Theyre writing Damian as like 15/16 and Tim is BARELY reading as older than him rn. Meanwhile, they basically have Dick running the Titans like the Justice League. Wally has kids who are heroes.

Young justice should be in their early twenties. College aged kids. It's really frustrating watching them not age up at all while they age up every other generation. Age those kids up and let your teenage characters be Damian’s generation.

3. Batman should not be allowed to show up in more than 18 comics per year if he is not part of that team. (This isn't technically a canon decision, but it is a rule I would impose)

Reasoning: JL, Nightwing, Detective Comics, Batman (obviously), World's Finest - all of those or fine. But shit like the Flash?? WHY ARE YOU HERE? GO HOME!!!

That said, I'm okay with it if like there's a 6 issue arc of the Superman where he's operating in Gotham. That's fine. That makes sense. And those would come out monthly, so they'd be able to do a comic with him once a month for 6 months of the year and twice a month for 6 months. But they need limits on how often they're allowed to have him show up where he doesn't belong because without it they're just dropping him in everything!! I was SHOCKED he wasn't somehow a part of one minute war!! And like, I love the guy but get the hell out of my flash comics okay you DON'T need to be here. Bye boy

Anyways thank you SO MUCH FOR THE ASK THIS WAS SO FUN ILY 💚💚

[rubydubydoo122]

In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)

TRIGGER WARNING -> the joker

They appeared on a bench in a mall that looked like it came straight out of Stranger Things. It wasn’t abandoned or anything, it just looked very 80’s. There were way too many mullets, Shoulder-pads, and he was blinded by the bright colors. 

Dick and Jason immediately looked at each other, and said, “You’ll fit in perfectly– what? Me? Stop!” 

“Dick, you literally did the deep V and the Neon button ups–”

“You went from 80’s prep- with high waisted jeans and the sweaters over collared shirts– to Grease–”

“That’s from the late 70’s you dolt, and you did the black leather Jacket look first, and–”

“You’ve never had an original outfit in both of your lives.”

Jason went quiet as he waited for Dick to realize he just proved his point, but Dick’s face contorted like he said something wrong.

Both of your lives . Jason snickered, of course Dick would feel like he struck a nerve saying that. “Yeah, I haven’t. I usually copied you and Bruce.”

Dick blinked as he connected the dots, “Go fuck yourself.”

Jason turned to Bruce, “Bruce, Dick said a bad word.”

Bruce moved to sit in between Jason and Dick, and searched the crowd, “We are in the 80s. Not some sort of recreational area.”

Dick rolled his eyes, “Holy brand new vintage mall, Batman”

Bruce gave Dick a look, “I was just implying that there is no way Jason could’ve been born yet.”

Jason sat on his hands pitched his voice up, trying to emulate his younger self the best he could, “Golly gee, Old Man, you mean I’m not ancient like you? Tell me more.”

Dick snorted, but then cleared his throat, “I mean, we all could’ve just been born earlier in this Universe.”

Jason hummed, “I don’t think this world is similar to ours. The energy feels off.”

Dick groaned, “What is it this time? Are there vampires? Or everyone can turn into some type of monster or–”

“The energy feels off because there isn’t any magic. Like at all…” Jason squinted across the mall. “That might be something.” He pointed to the store with a cardboard cutout of Superman, Batman, and some Red Masked dude with black netting.

The three of them made their way to the… comic book store. Which was almost completely covered in comics– Batman plastered across the cover, along with a kid in Robin colors looking like someone had said something out of pocket. 

“Isn’t Tim’s cape supposed to be black on the outside?” 

Bruce picked the comic up, frowning as he handed the comic to Jason, “I think it’s supposed to be you.”

Jason looked at the back of his hand and then back to the kid on the cover, “Ain’t no way. That child is reflective . It has to be Tim.”

Dick looked over Bruce’s shoulder, “I dunno, he does have your hair loopies. Also, it says, Robin finds his mother, and waiting is the Joker, planning a revenge that is swift, violent, terrible. Can Robin survive? You–” Dick grabbed the comic and flipped to the last page where there was a black and white image of Batman holding Robin, “...What the actual– They voted.”

But Jason wasn’t really paying attention to that page, his eyes were focused on the page before– Batman in a truck, with the word JASON big, red, and bold.

Jason took the comic from Dick and started flipping through, realizing that it was panel for panel what happened. “This is disgusting.”

Dick nodded, “Who votes for a child to–”

“They made me white!”

Dick gave Jason an incredulous look, “ Die . Who votes for a child to die. ”

Jason shrugged, and showed Dick a panel that featured poser Jason with a pair of binoculars in his hands, “Eh… That does not look like a 15 year old. Those premature wrinkles… not a good look.” 

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh, “Jason, don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Myself? That child is not me. That child is not a child, and is clearly white. In fact–” Jason pointed at the white man on the page, and snickered, “That looks like the face of a future mass murderer. Besides,” Jason picked up another comic with White Jason bleeding from his nose, seemingly going out in an explosion, “He obviously got voted off the island.”

The twin unimpressed looks on Bruce and Dick’s face was absolutely worth it.

 Jason looked around for the first book in the four parter, and started walking to the cashier, when Bruce stopped him. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing mementoes.”

“Oh yeah?” Bruce raised an eyebrow, “With what money?”

“I do have cash on me. It’s just fun mooching off of ya.” Jason frowned, to help him feign ignorance, “Did you forget your wallet?”

Bruce grunted his, you caught me but I’m not going to admit I am wrong grunt.

“It’s ok, if we really need to, we can disassemble Dick’s phone and pawn it for parts.” Dick started patting his pockets, and Jason had to hold back his smirk, “You forgot your phone too?”

Dick groaned, “Why must the Multiverse hate us? I even took some really cute videos of baby Damian and… Jay.”

It’s not fair that Dick went all melancholy. Now Jason has to give his phone back. “You really should stop taking pictures of the younger versions of us.” He pulled out Dick’s phone and handed it to him, “Don’t you already have pictures of us?”

“Not of Damian and Tim at the age we saw them. And not with you.”

“Hm…”Jason pulled out Bruce’s wallet, and handed it to him, “Maybe when we get back, I should ask Talia if she has any.” Jason then pulled out a five dollar bill from his pocket and went to pay. 

Now, usually, Jason isn’t much of a comic book reader, but he had to buy this comic of the white man who was supposedly 15 and had the same name as him. It was just too funny. He turned back to Dick and Bruce, “I’m gonna frame this– Actually, no, I’m gonna photocopy each page and cover up the glass case with it. Maybe I’ll ask Damian to give ‘Jason’ some melanin.”

Someone walked up to them, “Are you guys talking about Jason Todd? Man, I hate him. I’m glad he died.”

If Jason had been drinking water, he would’ve done a spit take. That was blunt. 

Dick and Bruce on the other hand were glowering. He could practically see Dick repeating,��Don’t punch him, Don’t punch him, Don’t punch him over and over again.

The dude was lanky, with angular features and greasy brown hair that was unkempt. 

“Excuse me?” The incredulity on Bruce’s face wouldn’t be visible to the dude, but it was loud and clear to Jason.

“For starters, he isn’t Dick Grayson. There’s only one Robin and it’s him. Jason Todd is just a knockoff.” 

Usually he would think this was hilarious– this dude didn’t even know he was talking to the ‘characters’ he was ranting about, but something about the dude made his gut twist in a way that screams danger.

“Jason Todd is not a knockoff . He took Robin, and made it into his own thing. He made it a legacy.” Dicks’ smile was tight as he said it. The way it was during Galas and someone had said something particularly racist. “Plus, Dick Grayson couldn’t be Robin forever. He had to grow into his own person and out of Batman’s shadow.”

“Sure, yeah, I like how they made Nightwing the leader of the Titans. Still doesn’t mean that Jason Todd’s a good Robin. How can you make a criminal a hero? I don’t know what Batman was thinking by giving that kid a chance. He found the kid boosting tires. He should’ve gone to juvie.” 

Now this was just getting kinda awkward. Actually, Kinda offensive. Very offensive.

“Batman believes in reform.” Bruce grunted, “Though, you are forgetting he was homeless at the time and that was his only source of income. ”

“Being Robin didn’t reform the kid.” The confusion on Jason and Dick’s face must’ve been obvious because the man continued, “Issue 424. They turned Robin into a murderer. I mean, I know it was supposed to be up for interpretation, but he obviously pushed Garzonas. Dick Grayson would never .”

This… really wasn’t funny.

Dick narrowed his eyes, “That’s because he watched his parents fall to their death. Also, did Robin really push him?” Dick directed that last part at Jason.

Crazy how things from the past that seemed miniscule are suddenly being brought up on this life altering trip around the multiverse. “I personally think that he didn’t. Garzonas was close to the edge and he was drunk. Robin was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m sure if Batman had landed first, Garzonas still would’ve toppled over.”

The dude huffed a laugh that felt eerily familiar, but in a bad way. “Still, Batman, or Nightwing would’ve tried to save him. Robin did not. And I still think he pushed her.”

“Your argument doesn’t make sense.” Bruce tilted his head, “You want Jason Todd dead for stealing tires and potentially killing someone, yet, you think Garzonas should’ve been saved? He kidnapped and sexually assaulted a woman, then continued to harass her, to the point where she felt the need to commit suicide.”

“I didn’t say that . I just don’t like the kid. I kinda wish Starlin went through with giving him AIDS, but oh well, this works too.” The dude shrugged and put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Jason Todd’s just a piece of shit from a street corner. He was gonna die either way.”

There was the slightest shift in Dick’s body weight. In one swift move, Jason shrugged off the dude and grabbed Dick’s wrist before he could punch the dude.

They didn’t need to get arrested on account of assault.

What Jason didn’t expect was for the sound of skin meeting skin. Or Bruce looming over the dude, whose nose was now bleeding.

The dude barked out a laugh, as he wiped his nose, “The name’s Jack.” He grinned. He grinned in a way that was too…deranged to just be friendly. “ Jack White. ”

Then everything brightened to white.

[arcadiabaytornado]

what if the LIS characters played Telltale’s Batman?? (Totally not asking cause I love both games gjfkgkgk)

Telltale's Batman (Specifically "The Enemy Within") lives in my mind as rent free as Life Is Strang does, so I'm very excited to answer this!

Max - I feel like if Max played she'd end up as not a big fan of the game tbh. I think she'd be stressed out the entire time and wondering if the Batman franchise has a nice, chill, cozy game she could play instead.

Chloe - Chloe would be super into the fight scenes. She would be button mashing the prompts SO hard, and every move Batman made would be followed up by her commentary of "Holy shit Max! Did you see that! I just kicked those fuckers through a door!"

Rachel - Rachel would look toward an invisible camera with a knowing gay stare every time Bruce and Jon interact.

Kate - Kate would play Batman as a mostly peaceful beacon of light in Gotham instead of a terror of the night. She would have the most wholesome Batman playthrough the world has ever seen.

Warren - I feel like he reads, or has read, Batman comics before, and he'd be really annoying about the games not being comic lore accurate. Like...he'd meet Harley Quinn and immediately go "Uh! Actually! In the comics, Harley was manipulated by The Joker and is an anti hero! Did the developers not read them or something?"

Sean - Sean would play and the entire time he would be taking notes on how Bruce is a superhero without having any powers. TBH He has a lot of daydreams about rigging together a suit after his playthrough.

Lyla - She decides to casually play the games when she can't sleep one night, and she quickly falls in love with them. She tries to pick up the comics thinking they'll also be good...but she quickly learns that they aren't really her thing.

Alex - Alex gets SO attached to Alfred during her playthrough, Episode 5 of both seasons is practically torture. She's also a hardcore "Give up Batman" truther, and has a lot of thoughts about why Batman isn't necessarily what's best for Bruce.

Steph - She would see Selina and not pay anymore attention to the actual plot.

Ryan - I feel like his commentary to this game would unintentionally be really funny. Like, there would be a fight scene and he'd go: "We don't need to fight - Okay we're fighting. - That looked like it hurt. - That's not a good move either - Why do these guys think they can fight THE Batman - Oops I missed the prompt.- Annnnndddddd I lost."

[dg-outlaw]

X-Men '97 and the Gambit Ford F-150 Trailer Hitch Clutching

So I haven't watched all the episodes yet, but I wanted to address the stuff I've seen/heard about certain dudes in the "fandom" getting all upset about Gambit's crop top and how it made him seem gay or bi coded, even though in the entire episode he's classic Remy LeBeau from the original 90s series--not too interesting in helping out or doing anything other than what he wants to do, shamelessly flirting with Rogue, and busting everyone else's balls/possibly flirting with them too, but will still jump into the fight when it's time.

Oh, and Gambit was my favorite X-Men character growing up and I'm a cishet male, if that matters. Spoiler alert: It shouldn't.

"Holy Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, Batman! It's his belly button."

If that's you, you clearly were too young in the 90s to remember the fashion of the day. The top photo and the ending basketball scene (a references to the comics as well), was soooo 80s/90s. Bishop's got a lime green tank top on and Cyclops' tank top is tucked into his shorts. The animators understood the assignment.

If anything, Remy (above) is rock-n-roll coded more than anything else. Just Google most 80s era rock bands that had songs about partying, sex, hot babes, etc. and you'll see big hair, eyeliner, bright colors, leather pants, jewelry, fishnets, fingerless gloves, and yes... crop tops. Maybe the 80s and 90s were "gay", IDK, but I remember most of my childhood clothes in the 80s and early 90s were some variation of a neon color as was every other kid's regardless of gender.

As mentioned above, he soooo badly wants in Rogue's pants, which possibly eliminates any gay coding, which only leave bi coding if a 90s crop top = being bisexual.

Who. Freakin'. Cares. Say this out loud with me. You can like, love, and enjoy a character without identifying with that character in any way, shape, or form (and that's probably a good thing for some characters). This can mean their sexuality, gender, ethnicity, religion, morality, or anything else about them. Yes, we can bring in the Punisher debate and how military and law enforcement appropriated the Punisher logo as their badge of honor and intimidation, and how they cherry-picked traits from that character to signal their toxic masculinity when Frank Castle is not meant to be a patron saint of law enforcement or the military. But it is also possible to just enjoy a character without making that character your identity. You can enjoy their characterization, storylines, or even something as simple as their costume, superpowers, or where they're from because you were born or grew up there too.

As mentioned above, Gambit was my favorite character growing up when I first got into X-Men, mostly thanks to this series, and he and I are very different. To me, Gambit was the cool, confident guy that I wasn't. He also wasn't Cyclops or Wolverine.

As a kid, most kids wanted to be Wolverine when playing X-Men on the playground because he had the claws and the healing factor. To us, he was OP which fit in with the whole childish argument of big, bigger, biggest, and finally infinity whatever... until someone busted out with the infinity times infinity argument. Also, there was no real internet and comics weren't readily accessible, so most of the knowledge at that time was from the show and limited comics one might've had. Plus, I think the whole Magneto pulls the adamantium from Wolverine's body storyline hadn't happened yet so yeah, that would've been a good game changer on the playground.

Anyway, outside of Batman, I was never a fan of the "popular" thing growing up and often preferred more underdog characters, teams, and things. Also, due to self-esteem issues I always felt less than, so while I liked Wolverine it was hard for him to be my favorite since he was everyone else's and I felt like I wasn't cool enough to like him. Cyclops on the other hand was the clean cut boy scout, which also didn't appeal to me because that was also something I didn't relate to. Outside of Beast and Morph, who got sidelined earlier in the series, that then left Gambit. (Note: Bishop wasn't a part of the main group and came later on.) But Gambit also seemed cool to me. He had a cool looking outfit, was agile and knew how to fight (I was into martial arts at the time as well), and could throw explosive cards. He definitely fit the "Rule of cool" in my child brain.

Lastly, and this goes back to point #4 above, it shouldn't matter what a character is like or how they identify. They're fictional and enjoying them as a medium should be fun. They are not you and you are not them, even if you have things in common. That said, I do think it's great when there's representation as well. I don't recall if this was in the OG series, though I seriously doubt it was, and I don't know about main Marvel canon, but I also think it's cool that Morph now has they/them pronouns as seen in the profile credits and Marvel wiki. I'm sure some people have missed this and I'm sure that'll be the next hot-button issue, but whether Gambit is gay, bi, straight, or whatever, he's still one of my favorites and it's why I grabbed this guy when it first came out.

I have more things to say about this first episode and my experience with the X-Men growing up, but I'll save that for other posts as this has gotten long enough already.

[august-anon]

Hiii I’m glad you like them! Your writing is what’s gotten me into the bat family and holy batcow is it my new obsession lmao. I only know the characters via fanfiction/fan art but I feel like that’s kinda amazing? Like yall are out here world building so well that I can read some fan fictions and pick up on every little dynamic between these fools (and there are like 8 million lol)

Can I be Moody Anon? 🤔

Also have you read “The Power of Family and this Stalker I Found?” By JackHawksMoor on ao3? It’s not a finished fic which I know some people don’t love to read (totally understandable), but it’s SO good. It’s little Tim Drake centric and I’m just AH cause I have no one to recommend this fic too

Ps the Dick/Bruce Drabble is almost complete hehe

Of course, Moody! I've gone back and retroactively tagged all asks I know to be yours with "moody anon" -- just make sure to sign off on asks from here on so i know its you to tag properly!

also, i feel you, i literally got into batfamily because i started reading "batfamily meets the justice league" fics and i thought they were so fun and now several DC heroes in general have become special interests, but esp the batfamily sdkjfhkfh. most of my own knowledge so far is primarily cartoons and video games because reading things like comics/graphic novels/manga/etc digitally just like. does not mesh well with my brain's ability to focus, so i still have only really read Year One and no other comics sdkjfhdf (and i dont even really like Frank Miller all that much as a Batman writer, personally, so i wasnt even all that invested in Year One in the first place sdkjfhsdf)

I don't think I've read that fic! I don't tend to read a ton of seemingly abandoned/unfinished fics, i generally wont open an unfinished fic if it's been more than a year since it was last updated, but!!! since it comes on such high recommendation from you i will 100% be reading it, I already pulled it up on my phone at the end of my workday to read soon lol, i love a fic where Tim joins the batfam differently! always a fun dynamic when it's with a Jason who never died, too

P.S. i cannot tell you how excited i am for your batdad bruce & dick headcanon/drabble i look forward to it you are so wonderful to share it with us all dsjfhsdg