#it's just that i can't use irony with them

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Jason Todd Week Special! Day 4: Grave + Lifeline

A/N: this unofficial mini-chapter is part of the event being run by @jasontoddweek2025 and can be enjoyed without reading the rest of the story

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, let me know if I missed anything worth tagging!

warnings/labels: deals with character death, trauma, and healing

wc: 980

CIGYN? Chapter Selection

The rain stung against my cheeks as I trudged down the path. I pulled my cardigan tighter around myself, shivering in the cold. The first rays of morning were just starting to peek over the city in the distance, and a light fog filled the air. I could feel Wayne Manor looming behind me like a disapproving aunt as I slipped through the wrought iron gate of the Wayne family cemetery.

I could almost hear generations of Waynes demanding an explanation for my presence among them. This part of the grounds felt almost sacred, a place for the family, and only the family. And I was an outsider, intruding on their rest. But Jason was out there, alone in the cold and the wet, and something told me he shouldn't be allowed to stew in his thoughts for too long. With a murmured apology to the Wayne ancestors, I slowly made my way down the path toward Jason, who stood over a grave like some kind of gargoyle standing guard.

My feet padded softly in the puddles. I could have easily avoided them, but the sound would make sure Jay knew I was coming, and it was always best not to sneak up on him. I finally stood beside him, frowning softly; his expression was almost blank, a far away sort of look in his eyes. Never a good sign.

“... Jace?” my whispered voice cut through the stillness like a hot knife through butter. 

He blinked a bit, tilting his head toward me. “... Hey, mama.”

I gently rubbed his shoulder; “you're soaked to the bone… how long have you been out here?”

“... A while. … It's … the anniversary.”

I looked down at the grave, blinking repeatedly, as if it might change the words I was reading;

JASON PETER TODD

Sleep undisturbed within the peaceful shrine till angels wake thee with a note like thine.

“... I see ... Well … got to appreciate the irony I guess?”

He chuckled ruefully; “... For a while I suspected Bruce arranged it … he knew Ra's, he knew Talia … it seemed too far-fetched that they'd just … stolen me, without a word. And then I get back, and that's the epitaph they chose?”

I nodded. “But now?”

“It was just the paranoia talking. I know that …” he sighed softly, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Still feels weird sometimes though …”

“That's fair. It'd feel weird to anyone.” I held him closer. “... What did they even bury?”

“Ra’s gave Bruce some kind of … clone mannequin. ... Sometimes I dream that I'm down there … in a box. … I claw my way through the lid, through the dirt … it fills my mouth and I can't breathe … and when I finally get out there's a clone living my life. … It's perfect, and happy, and … everyone's better off with it. … They hate me for digging my way out.”

I cupped his cheek, gently pulling him down to kiss his temple. He stroked my hip, leaning against me more. “... What are you doing out here, baby girl? It's freezing…”

“I could say the same to you.”

He sighed softly; “... I just … sometimes I need to see it. … Reminds me I'm alive. … I'm up here, and that thing's down there. … It's not gonna steal my life from me.”

I nodded slowly, wrapping my arms around him. “I gotcha … it's staying down there, and you're staying up here with me.”

He stared down at the grave, stroking my back gently. Eventually he laughed softly; “... Of all the quotes …”

I chuckled; “well what would you have picked?”

“I dunno … not that. … Next one's gotta be better though. … Promise me?”

I nodded slowly. “Promise. ... ‘Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.’” 

He smiled softly; “... That's nice. Who said that?”

“Emily Dickinson.”

He nodded. “It’s perfect… It's a nice thought … love being a lifeline.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, smiling softly. Jay leaned down and kissed my shoulder. “... Ok, let's get inside, baby girl.”

I nodded, letting him lead the way back toward the house. Just crossing the gate I felt warmer, like the Wayne ancestors were silently ushering us back to the safe embrace of their living descendants. Alfred appeared as we crossed the threshold, a tray of hot chocolates in his hands. As we took a pair of mugs Bruce arrived, wrapping warm towels around our shoulders. Jason shifted, subtly leaning into his father's hands, and Damian took my hand, tugging me along to the family room where Duke was setting out handfuls of blankets. We all got comfortable on the couches, basking in the warm glow of the fireplace.

The rest of the family slowly joined us. Dick hovered over the back of the couch, hugging Jason tight for as long as he’d allow. Tim eventually stumbled through the door with a box of donuts. Cass’s hand ghosted over Jason’s shoulder as she passed him, taking a seat in silence. Steph sat next to me, offering us a small smile. No one spoke much for a long time, the weight of the day sitting heavy on everyone’s hearts. Eventually Babs joined us, rolling over to an open space between Jason and Dick.

Dick smiled softly. “... You know, if we’re going to mark an anniversary, shouldn’t it be a happier one?”

Tim snorted softly; “Ok, you wanna get together on the anniversary of the day he tried to kill me, or the day he killed all those dealers?”

“Or we could just … not?” Jason grimaced.

Bruce smiled gently. “If we’re marking a happy anniversary, it should be the first time he joined us for family dinner, after everything. … That was the day I got my son back.”

Jason blinked repeatedly, head ducking down against my shoulder. “... Whatever you want.”

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Fanart in the header by: @crowkip

Jason Todd Week Taglist: @cottage-worm

[alessabriel]

Only one doll.

Summary: They found something to hold on to, to love and they won't let go, even if you want to run away from them...you never can (or so they thought).

Cw. Dark content, typical canon violence, gore, mental disorders, suicidal thoughts, dark CaitVi, dark romance (or worse), dead dove, divergence from canon at best.

"You just have to obey, okay? We don't like to hurt you," Caitlyn said in a soft, measured, controlled voice, looking at her with her one uncovered eye and cradling her chin, lifting her up so that their gazes would meet.

The doll can only see that face she loved one day, features that showed pure and sincere love at one time now staining so slowly with profuse, deep and terrifying darkness. Intentions that are not hidden in those eyes I once loved and intentions that intend to leave her disabled, at her mercy, at the mercy of both.

She lives in a hell coated in gold.

Fear begins to rise so fast, as the grip on her chin increases in strength and terror settles under her ribs enlarging until it occupies all available space, pressing her organs outward, pressing against her ribs so hard that they may well break under the weight of the doll's fear of them and it is impossible for her not to shed tears, to tremble when she hears that purposefully heavy gait.

"I-I'll be good, I promise" stammers the doll with pain breathing through her pores, tears pooling in her eyes but refusing to shed them until she feels a finger press against the bullet wound in her leg and the doll stifles a scream, pulling away from the sheriff's hands trying not to go crazy; she had tried to run away and had almost succeeded but a bullet in her thigh had knocked her down "I-I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll be good I swear, I swear, I swear, I swear" the doll recites desperately trying not to throw up, not to look them in the face because that will destroy the only good memories she has of them; Caitlyn and Vi.

But they won't allow her that indulgence.

"Lift your head girl" Vi commands, her voice being soft but there is a steel underneath, a steel that could very well hurt that forces the doll to obey; she sits up lifting her head still on her knees in her room and looking at Vi with her eyes watering with tears "Will you do it again? Use your head silly girl you can't run away, we had already told you"

The doll only feels the bile in her throat, the voice she once adored and the soft eyes she once loved for how sincere they were, right now she wished to tear them out with her own fingers or her own to never see her again. He once loved her voice that whispered love in his ears, that assured him to love her as intensely as he loved the Sheriff, maybe it wasn't true and it was all a lie from both of them.

"We don't want to increase your punishments" she tried, again to sound kind Caitlyn but irony, mockery and sarcasm seeped into her tone.

She understood, and could only grit her teeth, holding back that will go like boiling lava inside her.

"But you're making us be mean to you Is that what you want?" Vi questioned, taking a few steps closer to the sweet doll kneeling on what was once a nice light red carpet and leaned down, staring at her; still everything she loved was still there, a little stained by fear but it didn't matter and she reached out her hand, touching that angelic little face sliding her thumb down her cheek brushing away the tears "Cait and I don't want to be mean to you princess, but you're making it hard for us Running away? You understand we were scared our little love would run away"

«as if they would care, you psycho bitches» thinks the doll but she would rip her skin to shreds before she would speak in front of them, she would rip her vocal cords out if she could so she would never speak to them and never have that pair of deranged women hear her voice again. But he forces himself, he forces himself and at will, with something tucked deep in the back of his mind where they could never touch anything he would always cling to; father and sister. She disconnected, she needed to do it because she could never run away from the damn Kiramman mansion, nor Piltover and she didn't want to endanger who is like an older sister to her, truth be told she was afraid of them and of herself, dad had not raised a weak woman but right now in front of an Enforcer capable of breaking a man's skull with her bare hands and a sheriff that could shoot you even from miles away, her survival instinct came into play.

She would live, and she would mold that damned jail with her bare hands.

"I-I'll be good, sorry for escaping" the doll whispers, her voice trembling before closing her pink iris eyes and shedding tears, beginning to sob for real letting go of the emotional anguish and that tiny part that still contained hope that they would realize what they were doing was so fucking wrong but that hope shattered it and went infinite in tears of faint pink transparency "I-I was afraid and I-I was dumb, sorry, sorry, s-sorry, s-sorry"

It would return that prison of theirs, one way or another.

[astrxlfinale]

That question is enriched in a kind sense of irony. Truth be told? Being okay in terms of health and soul was one matter, but these days felt like a greater advent sweeping across them. With her head comfortably nestled upon his shoulder, a firm gaze is focused upon the view ahead, an intentional ease of the pedal ensuring the car remained at the point of a cruise compared to a quicker drive. Time finally feels like it just gets to slow down above all else.

Yeah. Lighter did need exactly this.

"I'm just concerned Belle, about the future." He hardly bothers to hide this now. Outside the airs of the Outer Ring, the mantle of Champion could be comfortably tucked away, giving room for the many facets that make him resilient yet vulnerable. "I've looked into a thing or two about that Creator. Wouldn't get out of my head, not after seeing an entirely new divide of man and Ethereal."

Confessing this felt almost a touch awkward. There's moments where he'd share with the Sons, and even then, this matter has only been discussed with Caesar herself seeing as they're now the De Facto heads of Motorcross league activity.

"And none of it has been good."

"Stuff like this, it can't just be left to the Void Hunters. Talk about some lost Order, it started to connect a few dots to me. Why some soldiers in those shadow wars always had a fancy of calling certain bands Heretics." It was these investigations, some growing sense of preparedness that put his mind at ease. Lighter pauses as he takes a breath, the faint spritz of salty sea air and the sweeter tinge of Belle's shampoo serving as a balm for the soul.

"Can't just sit by while some wild situation incubates underneath us. So gotta I take my good part."

( 🖭 )   SHE'LL TEACH HIM to laugh at her ! .. .. okay maybe trying to make a lesson with a kiss by pulling him over was not really one. both of them just got positives out of it --- oh well , it made more sense in her head. she's proxy smart not .. kiss ( ? ) smart. that was horrible.

WITH SO MUCH on her mind she had half of a thought to deepen that kiss but with the food oh so kindly supplied and them just starting their little outing .. she wasn't really messing around in the car in the parking lot. a little awkward for her tastes --- even if the both of them had got up to much worse.

THUS THE KISS is only dramatically ended once they pull apart and the fries are mercilessly tossed into her mouth. the seatbelt is also forgotten for a moment as she goes for more of the fast food that she'd sorely been missing in what felt like some sort of crazy house arrest. her response is a mhm ! due to her mouth being full , followed by her licking her fingers free of the grease and cheesiness before going ahead with the reminder.

RIGHT ! SAFETY IS important .. she didn't want to ( just ) survive some craziness with a hollow and then end up in a crash due to not being safe in a car. that'd be super embarrassing.

ALRIGHT. ALL SAFE ---- focus returning to the cheesy fries which are quickly removed from the bag it originated in ( sorry lighter , you won't be getting any of those ; your girl is ravenous ) and placing the take out box on her lap. as she begins to dig in her eyes shutter a lighter blue 'fore returning to their normal color : a fluster of excitement -- a stim to show it.

EVEN IF THE proxy was more at home in the bustle of the city .. this was nice. take away the food , the noise of everything going on ? this would be all she needed from time to time. just her and lighter ( and his car ) driving by the sea with the windows down.

❝ IT'S NICE. HELPS that the sea always smells so good. it adds to the atmosphere and the breeze .. but .. have you needed to get your head together lately ? are you .. okay ? ❞ her head moves to lean 'gainst the Champion's shoulder 'fore glancing upward ----- what a question for her to ask , after everything that's happened lately.

( SHE'S SEEN HIM worry when he thinks she isn't watching , can see the worry on his face even when she couldn't see his eyes. belle had learned to read him like a book .. even if she wasn't completely finished from cover to back yet. it was enough )

[idkimnotreal]

i feel like the meaning of irony is more lost between different generations than between autistics and allistics. like i sometimes will not get a general ironic comment someone made which i should understand, but it’s so far and between (not that i interact much) that i can count it on my fingers every month (and it’s rare enough to make me notice, but i know it’s because i’m autistic and my head is somewhere else at the moment someone makes an ironic remark).

but it’s more common for baby boomers to not catch gen z irony than for us autistic zoomers to not catch irony inside our own generational culture (whatever it is). i think it’s a bit like masking or learning allistic communication, it’s something we know how to do because we spend a lot of time perfecting it, and sometimes it just starts occurring naturally to us, like learning a new language (though we “speak” it in a different way, which is why the result of learning to mask might be catching on even more social cues than allistics normally do).

i don’t know. just something i realized. gen z is naturally more ironic so does not understanding irony even apply to autistic diagnosis anymore? being a different neurotype, i think autism and its traits manifest in different ways across cultures and times, and it’s just that white male boomer/gen x autism was observed first, so it’s what we thought it was at first.

(examples of what i struggle with include “scripted” communication and what it means, but i wouldn’t list irony among the things i specifically struggle with because i am autistic. i know i might occasionally not get irony because i’m autistic, but it’s just not a trait, it’s due to something else. though you know maybe and just maybe gen z doesn’t use irony as part of scripted communication but rather in its true, sincere form, to actually express ourselves, and it’s just that autistic boomers/gen x/gen y? can’t understand communication to convey something else, as it’s a trait of autism, not intrinsically irony, and irony is one of the tools boomers and older generations use for social cues and nothing else, so they don’t actually get irony outside of social cues. worth to note that gen z is post-ironic so yeah i don’t know how any of this is relevant to my main point follow for more ritalin takes)

[thelaurenshippen]

this is a genuine question not at all meant as a rude gotcha, but I feel like I've seen lots of people cite the relatively low barrier of entry as a huge advantage of podcasts as a medium, "if you have access to decent audio tech you can make a podcast" etc etc. So where does the need to sell a script come in? Is it a financial thing, and IP thing, something else?

this doesn't read like a rude gotcha at all, it's a really good question! there is a much lower barrier to entry when it comes to podcasts compared to tv, film, theater, etc. (though not as low as writing a book if we're talking about hard resources - you can technically write a book with just a laptop and a dream and then self publish! though as a writer who has written a lot of scripts and four books (3 published) writing a book is a much bigger psychological burden imo lol).

the need to sell a script, for me, is entirely a financial thing. if I had the money to produce podcasts at the level I want to entirely independently, I would! I know how to do it! but, unfortunately, I really only have the funds to produce something like @breakerwhiskey - a single narrator daily podcast that I make entirely on my own.

and that show is actually a great example of just how low the barrier is: I actually record the whole thing on a CB radio I got off of ebay for 30 bucks, my editing software is $50/month (I do a lot of editing, so this is an expense that isn't just for that show) and there are no hosting costs for it. the only thing it truly costs me is time and effort.

not every show I want to make is single narrator. a lot of the shows I've made involve large casts, full sound design, other writers, studio recording, scoring, and sometimes full cast albums (my first show, The Bright Sessions had all of those). I've worked on shows that have had budgets of 100 dollars and worked on shows that cost nearly half a million dollars. if anyone is curious about the nitty gritty of budgets, I made a huge amount of public, free resources about making audio drama earlier this year that has example budgets in these ranges!

back in the beginning of my career, I asked actors to work for free or sound designers to work for a tiny fee, because I was doing it all for free and we were all starting out. I don't like doing that anymore. so even if I'm making a show with only a few actors and a single sound designer...well, if you want an experienced sound designer and to pay everyone fairly (which I do!), it's going to cost you at least a few thousand dollars. when you're already writing something for free, it can be hard to justify spending that kind of money. I've sound designed in the past - and will be doing so again in the near future for another indie show of mine - but I'm not very good at it. that's usually the biggest expense that I want to have covered by an outside budget.

but if I'm being really honest, I want to be paid to write! while I do a lot of things - direct, produce, act, consult, etc. - writing is my main love and I want it to be the majority of my income. I'm really fortunate to be a full-time creative and I still do a lot of work independently for no money, but when I have a show that would be too expensive to produce on my own, ideally I want someone else footing the bill and paying me to write the scripts.

I love that audio fiction has the low barrier to entry it does, because I think hobbyists are incredible - it is a beautiful and generous thing to provide your labor freely to something creative and then share it with the world - but the barrier to being a professional audio drama writer is certainly higher. I'm very lucky to already be there, but, as every creative will tell you, even after you've had several successes and established yourself in the field, it can still be hard to make a living!

anyway, I hope this answers your question! I love talking about this stuff, so if anyone else is curious about this kind of thing, please ask away.

[maraudersidk]

doing eyeliner makes me wanna bang my head against the wall and bawl my eyes out.

Anyway my makeup is eating the suffering was worth it.

[hauntedorpheum]

first time people tell a content creator GIVE US MORE ADS

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[turtlemagnum]

when i was younger and hung out around my uncle a lot more than i do now, i remember whenever he referred to things regarding his native heritage, he always just called it "indian". called himself an indian, called the words he taught us indian, so on. since i was a little kid who didn't know any better, i didn't know that "indian" in the context of indigenous americans was a very broad, frankly bastardized term to paint a vast variety of cultures spanning two whole damn continents with one brush. it only occurred to me as i got much older than i was at the time that there'd be more than one "indian" language, and up until now since i had no idea what tribe(s) he even is i couldn't even begin to know where to look unless i found a download of every goddamn interlingual dictionary available and painstakingly checked every godddamn one for what their word for "thunder" is

the word he taught us meant thunder was hiloha. i didn't even know how to spell it until now, because he only ever said it aloud. literally just a few minutes ago, i decided to ask my grandma (his sister) if we knew what tribe(s) he belonged to. and apparently he's a mix of choctaw and makah. which gave me a lead, which led to me finding a dictionary on libgen, which led to me word searching "thunder" in the choctaw to english dictionary. it's the only word i remember him teaching us, and i'm unsure if he ever tried teaching us others. but it was his dogs name, and he was a damn good boy, so i remembered it clear as day. though, they normally shortened it to "hilo".

so, i guess what came out of this is that i now know a bit more about my uncle's heritage, and where to look for more research. so, if you're gonna have a takeaway from this, i'd appreciate it if you remembered the word "hiloha". it means thunder. and aside from being the name of a very good boy who deserves to be remembered, i think it's even more important to remember the histories, cultures, and of course the languages of all the indigenous folks who came before us and did their damndest to preserve their cultures in spite of it all.

[hyperfixation-or-death]

A series of headcanons:

Victor Deslandes was a Gifted Child™ in elementary school, and hit burnout in middle school.

Sam Deslandes was a Gifted Child™ in middle school, and hit burnout in high school.

Bilal Belkebirs was canonically highly academically and professionally successful before time traveling back to save his friends. However, in the post-canon timeline, he experiences burnout in university due to feeling somewhat directionless.

Romane Berthauds, in the timeline she and Victor traveled back from, had no friends and decided to focus most of her time and effort into academic success. The Romane from Bilal's timeline also put a lot of effort into schoolwork, but after her mom died, her studying habits became really unhealthy and excessive as she tried to cope with the loss. Post-canon Romane does not experience academic burnout (she has sooo many other problems, though). However, the Romane from Bilal's timeline (who the show unfortunately doesn't acknowledge again) will have a midlife crisis at some point.

[silverandebony]

i'm sorry. TAGGING SASKATCHEWAN CANADA AS KANSAS SOUTHERN GOTHIC AND APPALACHIA????

TAGGING SASKATCHEWAN CANADA AS KANSAS SOUTHERN GOTHIC AND APPALACHIA*

*i misremembered and the one tagged with appalachia&appalachian gothic isn't Explicitly saskatchewan (all of the pictures with location captions are apparently from saskatchewan so i'd be inclined to guess it probably is too, but there's no way to know for sure). so who knows!! i don't know what appalachia looks like! maybe it IS appalachia! in which case why is it also tagged saskatchewan

[Image ids: three cropped screenshots of 'regional gothic' style tumblr picture posts and their tags. The first picture is a truck at an empty intersection with a hazy yellow sky; the second is part of a building mural depicting a nature scene with canada geese captioned 'rural saskatchewan'; the third is of the edge of a town on a foggy day, with old, short buildings fading into the mist, captioned 'uranium city, sk'. Tags common across all three posts are: ethel cain, southern gothic, regional gothic, rural gothic, midwestern gothic, kansas, and midwest. Two of them are tagged with 'gibson girl'. Additionally, the truck picture is tagged with appalachia, appalachian gothic, twin peaks, and hayden anhedonia; the mural picture is tagged with small town usa, small town, small town america, small town canada, great plains, prairies, prairie, and prairiecore; and the foggy town is tagged with 'ghost town, liminal, liminal spaces, and foggy day.

End id.]

I also went back to the blog to see if those posts were still there so I could take better screenshots (they weren't; hooray reporting things for spam) but upon further scrolling I realized that every tagged post. Every. Single. Post. With Tags. all of them. Are tagged with southern gothic and kansas and saskatchewan. THESE ARE NOT THE SAME. WHY ARE YOU USING ALL OF THEM THESE ARE NOT THE SAME

*coughs* anyway. Among all of these, in all their spammy mistagged glory, there is one I would like to give a special shout out to, for in my opinion being the most wildly tagged:

[Image id: another screenshot of a tumblr picture post. This one is a picture of a small motel with a rundown fence in the foreground. A colour filter has been used to make the picture look washed out and fit the regional gothic vibes. This picture has been tagged with: gibson girl, americana, appalachian gothic, midwest gothic, preacher's daughter, regional gothic, rural gothic, southern gothic, hayden anhedonia, ethel cain, nebraska, kansas, motelcore, appalachia, southern aesthetic, saskatchewan, alberta.

end id.]

Take a moment to appreciate it. Bask in its questionable glory. Allow yourself the time to question why?

I think it's the 'alberta' tag that really makes it for me here. The 'nebraska' as well. The latter I assume is from the title of one of Ethel Cain's songs, which would explain... to some degree... how it got there. Why 'alberta' though? Why this picture, out of all of them? Is it actually from Alberta? (It could be; I've seen similar looking things) If it's from Alberta, why is it also tagged 'saskatchewan'? 'kansas'? 'appalachia'? 'southern gothic'? Do not each of these preclude all others? If it's Saskatchewan or Albertan, why is it tagged 'americana'?? Is it for views??? If you want it seen, it's already got the tags! Regional and rural gothic are fine! They'll probably get you a lot more views than tagging something with a Canadian province ever will! I just. I don't understand. why. why have you done this. please stop. i'm begging skfjjsjfjj

in conclusion: tumblr has tagging etiquette and i am begging the young aesthetic bloggers to take a moment to learn it. it will save you so much being reported for spam and having your posts and or possibly your entire blog taken down because of it. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a blog to go report specifically because of this

[kayl3ighsunflower]

💭

[meowmeowmessi]

wallahi all this messi to barça only ever comes out when barça have a scandal or when messi's got smth big coming up (bayern rn), they're actually trying to fuck him over lol. and everytime it's "he's at psg, i can't speak more", he hasn't renewed at psg so you can actually and you already have just by saying that shit??? just sounds like "nothing happened so i have nothing to say" lol. mf apparently meet with his father and agent in a meeting that "went well" but can't do more than "glance" at him at the best awards be serious. and now coolers are coming for gaston again like he doesn't have direct access to messi and his team who said no meeting happened. there's so little information and absolutely none from a trustworthy source, it's a choice at this point to believe a lying politicial and a drunk twitch streamer 😭😭

in a way i think it's funny, but also sick, that laporta is bringing up messi like this, in this specific context, on the same day he got elected as the president of barça for the second time by using messi's name

"i still feel sad about it." you are a liar. you are a politician. you are a lawyer. you are a snake. messi had offers from clubs leagues above pee es gee lined up but he was told the barça renewal was a done deal so he rejected them all, and look where he got pushed to: same place luis and him were warning neymar against not too many years ago

i hate hate hate the coolers in the comments who are either so desperate to have messi back that they're ignoring all the facts, or are slandering messi bc hurr durr he's going to hurt our rebuild. barça twt is actually cancer, i simply have no words

[redstarfish-art]

Question answered! Thanks OP you fucking idiot!

I am actually a bit sad that the answer turned out to be "mainstream media good" and "fanwork bad" though. :(

Was hoping for a more interesting definition of problematic beyond "things I like are fine, and things I don't like are not fine!" I guess I was being too optimistic about OP having sense.

i recommend being a fan of 1 problematic piece of media at least once in your life

[woahjo]

APHRODISIAC! (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist 

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Katsuki gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. You decide to check in on him. What could go wrong?

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, dubcon, smut, porn with little to no plot, aphrodisiac quirks, quirkless reader, prohero!katsuki, rough sex, borderline free use, biting, creampie, multiple orgasms (fem!receiving), masturbation, edging (kinda), manhandling, katsuki is dominant but also not idk he's desperate, possessiveness, overstimulation, size kink, scent kink, some light aftercare! woo hoo!, friends to lovers sort of

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: yeah ik this isn't what i typically write but idk where this came from. i had a thought and it spiraled bad and now i have this. there is no deeper message. there is no meaning. i wrote this to make him FUCK and be kinda weird and desperate and pathetic about it. i needed to see him physically overpower us while also so desperate that it makes him look stupid. i feel violent. this bad boy is not going on ao3 lol. anyway, enjoy, heed the warnings.

Katsuki paces around the one bedroom apartment he rents in downtown Musutafu. His skin is tingling. Every nerve he has burns like it's been set on fire, needing some sort of touch to soothe it. His cock aches between his legs, hard and leaking against the side of his thigh. Katsuki grits his teeth, running his hands over his hair and then letting his palms slide down the sides of his exposed biceps. 

Sweat collects on his skin, the kind that comes from desperation or maybe a fever, and he feels it on his palms when he lets them drop to his sides and clenches his fists. Fuck, he can't believe he got hit with a non-fatal quirk and had to be sent home. It's humiliating. What's worse is that it hasn't worn off yet, rendering him completely useless. 

He sits on his couch, his legs spread wide, and leans back against the couch cushions, wincing as he reaches to unbutton his pants. He's never been this sensitive in his life and it almost hurts to grab his cock and pull it from his pants. Katsuki watches it twitch for a moment, rigid between his legs and leaking pre-cum from its angry tip. He doesn't even have to think about anything in particular, he's just turned on. Unbearably so. 

Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of his cock and jerks upward once, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at his own sensitivity. Then, the desperation sets in fully and he squeezes the head of his cock with a wince and a low groan before beginning to slide his hand up and down. He pauses to spit into his palm, desperate for some sort of relief from the tension weaving its way through his body, his hand moving faster and fast over this dick. Katsuki only pauses when he touches his overly sensitive head, swallowing down an audible moan as he moves his hips to desperately fuck his fist. 

He tries not to think of the humiliation in this, instead focusing on chasing a high that seems to get farther and farther. He stays like this for a while, desperately fucking his fist with low groans and whines. His face is completely flushed, sweat beading on his brow and forehead, covering every inch of his skin with a pathetic, glowing sheen. God, he's almost fucking angry. The frustration, the sheer desperation for release, is making it difficult to control his temper and he knots his free hand into the soft pillow beside him, raising it to his face and using it to cover his head so he can be a little louder. 

He's desperately humping his fist when his doorbell rings. At first, it's only once and Katsuki thinks he can ignore it, but then it comes again, five more times and consistently more aggressive. 

"Katsuki?" your voice calls through the wood paneling of his door. "I heard you got hit with a quirk and sent home. Let me in." 

He furrows his eyebrows at the irony of the last person in the world he wants to encounter at a time like this. Pretty, quirkless, you. His long time friend and recent dispatcher at his agency. Someone he secretly wants to fuck even without the aphrodisiac quirk floating through his bloodstream. You really get under his skin. You’re exactly his type, right down to that annoying little attitude of yours that drives Katsuki insane. Of course, he's always respected your friendship a little too much to do anything about it, but tonight, he doesn't think he'll be able to and he sits in silence with his lip caught between his teeth while he fucks his fists and hopes you'll go away. 

"I know you're in there," you call again. "I can see the light on." 

You bang three times on the door and then ring the doorbell again, pushy and insistent the way you always are. A match for his stubborn attitude. 

Katsuki swears and stands up, his hands shaking as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his sweatpants and flips the head up into his waistband with a hiss. 

The crazy thing is, he can literally smell you through the door. The scent of you, that sweet and rounded perfume you wear, wafts under the crack of his apartment door. He pauses outside of it, resisting the temptation to open it, to welcome that smell into his apartment and use you to relieve the aching in his cock and lower belly. 

"Katsuki?" You ask, a little quieter now. 

Jesus fucking christ, don't call his name like that. 

He swings the door open, letting his hand rest on the side of it so that it is positioned above his head. You look taken aback at his appearance, covered in sweat and flushed from the neck up, his chest exposed and heaving. 

"What?" he says, looking you up and down. 

Katsuki bites back the urge to yank you in. Why is it he can literally smell the sweat on your body and every prick of your emotions? It's like he can tell exactly what you're thinking, or maybe it's what he wants you to be thinking. 

"Don't get on my ass about me still technically needing to be at work," you start, stepping forward. "I heard something happened and I just came to check and you look like shi-" 

Katsuki blocks you from coming in with his body. You stumble backwards lightly and raise your eyebrow at him. There's a pause as you register that you've just run into a solid wall of muscle, sweat covered and glistening, while Katsuki eyes you like you're meat on a platter. He knows he's doing it, but he can literally smell every turn of your scent, soft and sweet. And he may be fooling himself... but are you... turned on? 

"Let me in?" you say with a small laugh, side stepping to go around him. He blocks you again, his fingers gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles are white. 

"Go home," he says quietly, his voice tense. 

"What? No," you furrow your eyebrows at him. "What's the matter with you?" 

You duck under his arm and place your hand momentarily on his chest. Your touch makes him tingle all over and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

"I'm not fucking around," he says. 

"Okay, me neither," you respond with a bit of an attitude. "I expected you to be worse for wear but you look like crap. Like you're... I don't know." 

You trail off a little. 

"Let me help," you say, shaking off whatever thought had come over you. "I'll make you some food." 

"Look, no offense, but I don't think you want to help me with this," he says, a frustrated bite in his voice. Food isn't exactly what he's hungry for. 

"That's too bad," you say slowly, seemingly put off by the desperate air about him and settling into his kitchen. You move to open the fridge.

Katsuki walks up to you quickly, taking your wrist from the door and holding it between the two of you. Cool air hits his exposed chest and arm as the door falls shut again. 

"I'm dead serious. Get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna do something I regret," he hisses through a clenched jaw. Your skin is warm on the pads of his fingers, wrist held flush against his palm. He bites back a genuine shudder. 

Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, glancing between where he's caught your wrist by your head and his eyes. Katsuki's gaze roams over your face, pausing as he hits the top of your blouse where a few buttons remain open. When he returns his eyes to yours, your mouth moves to open before a heady understanding settles over your features. You're so pretty. Everything about you is pretty, so delightful and delicate. Your eyes look glassy and wide. Katsuki has always found them tempting, but today he can't stop himself. 

He leans forward and kisses you, holding your wrist to his chest as his mouth comes messily into contact with yours. You squeak and freeze and it takes all he has to pull away from you. 

"Go home," he says again, his lips tingling. Katsuki feels the color creep onto his cheeks, his hand still holding your wrist. 

You don't say anything, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He swallows thick and feels the saliva drag against his throat. Then, his mouth dries completely, his expression twisting into discomfort as his cock throbs between his legs as the scent of you takes on a sharper turn. He's never felt anything like this before, something animal. 

Katsuki tightens his jaw, staring at you for a moment. Then, he takes a step towards you. You take one back, though he doesn't feel like you're afraid. Rather, you tilt your head down to look at him through your lashes. He lets out a breath through his teeth and walks you back until your ass hits the counter, his free hand coming to gingerly touch your waist. You inhale when he leans in to kiss you again, screwing your eyes shut and reaching to grab at his shoulder to pull him closer. 

Every touch tingles. It burns and he drops your wrist to manhandle your hips. You suck on his bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He ruts his hips against yours, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache, and you gasp a little and let your mouth fall open. Katsuki takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your lip with a low groan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as the pads of his fingers press harshly into you. You whine, eyebrows pulling up. 

Katsuki’s eyes are slightly open, just so that he can look at you. Every aspect of his senses feel heightened and the relief of your mouth far surpasses that of his hand over his throbbing cock only minutes earlier. 

He pants, taking your hips and lifting you onto the counter so that you’re seated, pulling away for just a moment to lift the hem of your shirt and expose your breasts. Katsuki puts his face on the pillowy tops of them, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as his hand teases its way up the skin of your back to unclasp it. He thinks you’re probably looking at him, but if you are, he doesn’t have the mind to care about what sort of behavior he’s exhibiting. He can practically smell how wet you are from just a little touching and if he weren’t so fucking desperate for a little relief, he’d tease you for a few hours just to watch your pussy drool over him. 

The cool air of his apartment hits your exposed nipples. Katsuki takes it upon himself, without even a second thought, to roll the hard bud under his tongue. He feels the way goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands coming to rest over the tops of your thighs. Katsuki bites lightly on your breast and you fucking whine at it, tipping your head back and rooting your hand into the tufts of his blonde hair. 

His cock jumps in his pants and he’s no doubt leaked enough to leave an evident wet spot against the gray of his sweatpants. He stands to his full height, pushing your skirt up and pressing the outline of his cock to your crotch. Heat bleeds through your panties, the kind that makes him feel like he’s going absolutely fucking insane. You gasp, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him close again. 

Katsuki’s mouth hits yours messily, breathing hard as he ruts his hips up against your crotch, pulling you forward on the counter so he can feel as much of the pillowy folds of your pussy through the thick fabric as possible. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth, sharp canines digging into the wet flesh of your mouth. He whines— high-pitched, desperate sound—as you position your hips to press your crotch against the head of his cock. His head falls onto your chest, forehead resting against the hollow of your throat. Katsuki humps at you, pulling you against him to match the rhythm of his hips, grinding your clothed cunt over the bulge of his cock. It’s a desperate motion, completely subconscious as he lets the quirk he’s been hit with take the lead.

His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, fumbling as they reach for the waistband of the panties you’re wearing. Katsuki’s desperation is so palpable that he finds himself panting as he slips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down. You gasp at the force of it and he swears he hears a small tear as he pulls them from your cunt, the crotch sticking to the lips of your pussy. 

He leans his hips forward again, sliding his cock between your folds with a deep grunt. His mouth finds your neck and he bites along the side of it, lathing his tongue over your pulse point. It’s like he can taste you. Salt and that stupid perfume, collecting on his tongue as you dig your fingers into his back, his dick rutting restlessly against your clit. At one point, he almost slips in, his eagerness and your wetness making him careless. Katsuki sucks in a breath through his teeth, his whole body on fire. 

The kitchen light shines down on his back and he can see the outline of part of his shadow on your thighs as he stares down at them, guiding the tip of himself to your entrance. He hears you wine when he presses against it and moves his hand down subconsciously to rub at your clit. An attempt to ease the stretch. 

You tip your head back in a moan and Katsuki takes the opportunity to kiss your neck before settling his teeth against your shoulder and biting down harshly on the muscle connecting your neck and arm. You yelp at the sensation and Katsuki shutters at the sound, willing out a choked I’m sorry as he slides into your wetness. His hands push into the delightfully soft flesh of your upper thighs, the fat spilling up around each individual digit as he uses your legs for leverage, sliding you forward even further to better seat you on him. 

Your legs are shaking and he can feel the way your nails dig into his exposed shoulder blades. Your bunch up skirt causes the fat of your tummy to fold over in a way that practically makes Katsuki drool. He urges himself to pause, attempting to come back to his senses as the quirk kicks into high gear. There’s relief in being inside of you, in feeling the flutter of your walls around his thick cock, but it also makes him desperate. Katsuki feels like he’s chasing something that he was desperately and it’s just out of his reach. 

You’re breathing heavily above him, he can see the rise and fall of your chest from where his head hangs down, his hands trembling on the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes, his vision foggy around the edges as if he were peering through a tube. You’re at the end of it, your eyes glassy and mouth open, returning the look. Your eyebrows are knitted up in pleasure, but you almost seem confused. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathe out, the first thing you’ve said since he started touching you. 

The tone of your voice is needy, with a delightful whiny lilt that makes him groan out loud. He can barely manage the words that come out next, his brain half mush, and he feels the way his cock jumps inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his breath coming heavy. 

There’s a pause and he feels the distinct sensation of you squeezing down around his cock, like the idea turns you on. 

“Use me,” you respond cautiously, your voice still containing that needy lilt. 

Katsuki’s hips fuck up into you voluntarily and he feels the way his breath catches in his throat at the near desperate sound of your voice.

“Say that again.” 

“Use me, Katsuki,” you respond, choking on your words as he fucks his hips up into you. 

You reach for his face, taking it in your hands and drawing it close until it’s just in front of yours. Then, your palms slide down his shoulders and he screws his eyes shut and fucks into you again, harder this time, causing your body to jolt upwards on the counter. 

He curses under his breath, pushing one leg further to the side and fucking his hips up into you roughly. You’re looking right at him, your expression drawn and pleasure-soaked, sweat collecting on your forehead as your mouth drops open into an o-shape. You punctuate his thrusts with high pitched yelps, squeaking out your pleasure and the deepness of where he’s hitting through choked moans. 

Katsuki’s hands move up your stomach to roughly cup your breasts, his mouth so close to yours that he’s practically breathing in the sounds you make in exchange for his own hurried groans. He kneads at the fat of your chest, rolling your breast under his fingers before taking your nipples and pulling lightly on them. 

He’s aware of just how rough he’s being, just how hard his hips are slapping yours, but he feels like he can’t stop. Katsuki chases a high so fucking desperate that his body is on autopilot, reaching and touching and moaning unabashedly as the room fills with the wet sound of his balls on the backs of your thick thighs. 

You push your chest forward towards him, legs spread wide to make room for the width of his hips between yours as he bullies that perfect sensitive spot inside of you. Katsuki feels the way he makes you flutter. Every shift of your body, every involuntary squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, registers as if he were a part of you. His skin tingles everywhere you touch and the drag of your nails over his shoulder blades makes him want to crawl into the deepest part of you. Even the sound of your voice, drawn and desperate and mildly overwhelmed, feels like a drug to him. Every sense he has seems to be acutely attuned to just how badly he needs to fuck your lights out. 

His hands slink down to your hips, resituating you and pulling you flush against him. Then, he drags his cock all the way out of you and quickly ruts back in, moaning as he does. His pace picks up, manhandling you forward on the counter until he is supporting most of your weight. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as you let him use you like a toy. 

Katsuki chases his high, his stomach seeming to wind tighter and tighter but never finding that perfect snap and release. His movements grow faster, using all of his strength to fuck his hips up into you, barreling his cock against your gummy walls and bullying your sweet spot. He feels the way you tighten down around him, your body tensing and fingers digging crescent moons into the tops of his shoulders. 

“Ka-” you choke out desperately, your voice breaking. “Wait, Katsuki, wait! I’m gonna-” 

You shudder, your thighs squeezing around him as he continues to fuck you. 

“Do it,” he seethes, “just fuckin’ do it.” 

The end of his sentence comes out as more of a whimper as you cry out and squeeze down around him, squirming in his grasp as you begin to twitch with every additional thrust. Your body shakes, legs locking around him and struggling to hold him inside as he fucks you clear through your orgasm and then to the other side. 

Katsuki’s voice breaks, almost whimpering like an animal as he buries himself in your pussy over and over again. He wants to smother you, he wants to completely cover your body and get as close as he possibly can. He’s already so much bigger than you, so much broader, how hard could it be to swallow you completely? 

Katsuki’s hands come up under your ass as he wordlessly lifts you from the counter and moves to the couch on desperate, shaky steps. He lays you down, slipping out of you for a moment, before pressing a hand to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs, and sinking his cock back into you as he crowds his body over yours. 

“You know what?” He says, not really sure what’s going to come next. His head is so clouded with the quirk that he can’t think straight. “I’ve wanted to do this forever. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so- long-” 

He screws his eyes shut, almost angry with the way he can’t seem to hit that high, teetering on a desperate and near painful edge. 

“Those fuckin’ pencil skirts,” he says, unable to control his words or sharp tone. “The way you wear your hair, that damn look in your eye that constantly makes you seem like you’re beggin’ for it.” 

Katsuki whines, a sharp sound from the back of his throat, as you tighten up around him. He meets your gaze, clouded and watery eyes accented by the delightful furrow in the center of your brow. 

“And then you show up here,” he groans, not even sure of what he’s really saying. “Blouse unbuttoned, looking for trouble. I’m gonna fuck your lights out. ‘Till you can’t even think about fuckin’ anyone else.” 

He leans in close, his mouth right up against yours. 

“This is g’nna make you mine, right?” 

You nod, your movements clumsy, and pull him close to you. 

Katsuki loses all of his sense, burying himself in the feel of your pussy and the way he sinks into you, giving into the desperation of the quirk. He can feel just how deep he’s hitting, the way you suck in sharp, whiny breaths with every inward thrust. Katsuki’s hands grip your waist, pulling your ass up off the couch so that his angle is better. 

His cock seems to drag endlessly against your overstimulated, pillowy, insides and you practically drool around. He feels like a dog slobbering over meat, any semblance of politeness completely gone from both his expression and his movements. This is going to fucking ruin your friendship, but he doesn’t even have half of a mind to think about it, so drawn into the delightful feel of your body and the aching in his cock that only seems to subside slightly with every thrust. 

You try to choke out the word “again” and he feels like he knows what’s coming. Your whole body tenses, legs locking around him as you cream over his cock for the second time. 

This seems to get Katsuki somewhere, the sensation of your pussy clamping down finally giving him some leeway to relief. He hits the edge of an orgasm, leading himself to the finish line. 

The tension in his belly grows, cock twitching inside of your fucked out cunt. His fingers dig into your hips and he collapses forward, rolling his body so that the head of his cock catches perfectly inside of you, massaging and churning you up. You’re moaning, though maybe it’s more adjacent to whining, and Katsuki can hear himself mimicking the sounds, his body leading the way. 

Then finally, on a pathetic and broken whimper, Katsuki cums. His whole body tenses, weight pressing down on you as he buries his face into your neck and lets his voice out beside the hollow of your throat. The relief and pleasure is so intense that Katsuki feels the way every muscle in his body tenses and lets go, filling you up with as much of him as he has to give. 

His hips continue to pathetically rut into you, little choked moans escaping his lips as he uses his own cum as lube for his weak little thrusts. Then, he completely relaxes. 

Katsuki feels the way his skin stops burning, the way the desperation at the back of his throat subsides, how his body rids itself of the quirk as quickly as the arousal came on. He shudders, coming back to himself and raising his head to peer at your expression. 

You look exhausted, hair a mess and face covered in a thick sheen of sweat. You still flutter around his cock, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try and ride through the overstimulation of just having him inside of you. Katsuki furrows his brows, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He raises his hand and uses it to push stray strands of hair from your face with his palm on your forehead. Then, with a clear mind, he leans forward and kisses you. 

You blink at him for a second, before giving a weak smile, raising your eyebrows and letting your head fall to the side. Katsuki winces when he pulls out of you, sucking in a sharp breath and standing to his full height. He places a hand on his forehead like he’s assessing the situation, staring at your body, still fully clothed with your skirt pushed all the way up your stomach and your blouse missing a button at the top. 

He wordlessly walks to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water, walking back over to you and wiping down the exposed parts of your body. You don’t really say anything to him, but you smile quietly while he gingerly wipes you down, your smeared makeup accenting just how much of a mess he’s made. 

“Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how-” 

“How you wanted this to go?” You say softly, the corners of your lips turning up. 

Katsuki feels the way he flushes, all the way to the tops of his chest. 

“No, it’s not,” he admits, running a hand over his face as he crouches beside you. 

You laugh a little and he furrows his brows at you, frustrated and embarrassed. 

“You’ve got a bit of a possessive streak, huh?” You tease lightly.

“I got hit with some asshole’s fuckin’ quirk and-” he begins explaining himself, something he probably should have done when you showed up at the door. 

“It was good though,” you say, tilting your head at him from where you lay.

Katsuki blinks at you, his expression completely flat. You should really know just how fucking crazy you drive him. Then, he scowls a little, not because he’s upset, but because he’s currently feeling the opposite and that makes him awkward. 

“You’re into that shit?” He says, a bit incredulously. 

You shrug and give him a coy smile. 

[nightingale-prompts]

Nightwing gets a sidekick introducing: "Batboy"

Continuation of this post: "Danny has Bat wings"

|Next|

Dick tries to tell himself that he's better then Bruce. He's not going around taking young orphaned boys with unique abilities willy-nilly. No, he very careful. Besides this is first- well second sidekick.

He's doing a public service anyways. You can't have a kid with giant bat wings just falling from buildings. If Nightwing hadn't stepped in to stop those goons trying to catch the kid and sell him then who knows what would have happened. What if they tried to cut off his wings and turn the boy into a bloody trophy for the Bats?

There are many villains in Bludhaven who'd take the boy out or take him in. Dick already had a sinking feeling that Heartless would try his hand at killing the kid after all he targets the weak and helpless like a coward.

It was easy enough to convince the boy to be his friend. Dick did have natural charm and charisma after all. All it took was a meal from batburger and a fruit cup to get the kid to open up.

Danny (apparently his family gave him a normal name) didn't live with his family anymore due to ideological differences. That difference was that they thought he shouldn't exist anymore and wanted to turn him into an experiment. Poor kid didn't even get to finish his freshman year of school before he had to leave. He was a small town vigilante for a few months before the incident.

Dick saw an opportunity but was subtle about it. He invited the kid to live with him until he got his education. Its also totally ethical because the kid was a vigilante already.

Everything kind of went by quickly. Dick had done everything possible to hide Danny until he could come up with a plan of how to tell everyone.

True Dick didn't "need" a sidekick but come on, look at him! He's a boy with bat wings! Dick could put a little cowl on him and dress him up like Batman. I mean he's not a dog but it would be funny. The irony there, the bird-themed hero now had a bat-themed sidekick. That is the universe's way of sending a message.

After training Danny Dick learned that the kid had an endless supply of energy and ADHD that rivaled his own at that age. The kid also couldn't fly, it was actually closer to gliding which was still useful but he kind of looked like a flying squirrel when he jumped off ledges.

The term issue with taking Danny in was that Dick was still a Wayne and while he could hide the kid while he was swinging through Bludhaven, Dick Grayson could not.

Danny could hide his wings like they weren't even there whenever he wanted to look human. Which was a start, next he needed a new identity. One that wouldn't tip anyone off.

Dick needed to pull some strings without alerting Barbara or Tim. A new name was forged: "Daniel Nightingale" (Dick patted himself on the back for that one).

With that Dick was ready to let Danny out in the field. For the most part, Danny was as reliable as any Robin if not a bit crazy. Danny was way too charming for his own good but also completely feral. The public adored the domino-masked kid in his green and black costume. Danny didn't wear a cape because of his wings so he used them as a cloak.

When citizens saw them in public they'd offer the kid fruit cups and candies just to get close enough to see his wings. The people of Bludhaven were also excited to have their own version of Robin since Gotham had so many. Also, the kid was so marketable. Look at the way his wings flapped when he was excited.

Danny's or more specifically "Batboy's" presence would not go unnoticed.

Well, this can't end well.

Welp. Dick should have expected this. He couldn't even be upset. He doesn't regret anything that he's done.

Danny was still in bed, actually it was a hammock which was more comfortable for a bat. Dick wondered if he could sleep upside down. The kid was comfortable here and probably better off here than in Gotham. Once the adoption goes public however things will get complicated. Danny may end up Bludhaven's sweetheart or outcast. He'll probably end up fine...probably.