#pl duke

[justkillingthyme]

uhhhh could you draw duke. ^_^

I haven’t played DB in FOREVER

[normalcannibalism]

this was meant to be a quick doodle. it wasn't :') ddoes anyone else care about duke

[scarlett-witch-simp]

SNL in the DC Universe 100% made a skit about Bruce Wayne the himbo billionaire with a chronic adoption addiction.

The Batkids 100% guessed starred in it without Bruce's knowledge or permission

[acid-ixx]

no pain, no gain, right?

"is this all a game, or are they all secretly masochists?!"

nah, imaging being kidnapped by the batfam, neglected or not, romantic or platonic, and being expected to treat your abduction as merely normal, to love them like you've known them for your entire life rather than strangers who randomly decided that you're the object of affection they'd focus on their attention on one day—

do they honestly think you'd fall for their honeyed words? of course not! you're fucking trapped with both men and women alike with physical capabilities enough to trap you in a headlock or in a bear hug. they could kill you with a damn finger jabbed into your neck. is that not a valid enough reason for you to try and constantly fight them?

if you're a person bound on the feistier side, the first course of action you'd commit on, say, dick who's known to be the most physically affectionate, the neediest of them all - who's constantly kissing you, playing with your hair and laying his head on your chest - would be your nails digging deep into his skin and dragging it along his back, or trying to throw a punch into tim's face when you feel he's been staring into you rather than at you far too deeply for your liking, watching the blood drip down his nose like a faucet right after, as long as it means his eyes would leave your body for just a damn second.

whatever they're doing, even if they're always assuring you that they're doing this out of love, out of protection, out of their deep-seated paranoia that out there, you're not safe, you won't survive; their actions are all done for you — yet they'll always be met with you threatening to bite or chew their faces off. they're not your damn family, or lovers, or whatever fantasies they think they could reenact with you, and they know damn well that you won't be giving up soon, not at all—!

yet you don't know that behind your fiery side are those willing to let the fire burn much longer, those who throw more logs and gasoline into the ever-burning pit of rage and spite that crackles at your heart.

jason trying to trap you into his muscly arms only warrants your fight-or-flight instincts, akin to a gothamite walking past the crime alley, kicking and scratching at the man just wishing for a day of comfort as he sighs and nuzzles his head into the crown of your hair, breathing deeply to take in your scent, as if you're not currently pulling his hair out. he'll let you bite on his hard neck, or kick at the fat of thighs or even his crotch with no reaction other than tightening his already caged grip on your body.

a body much frailer compared to everybody else's. a mere gazelle to a lion ready to be chased anytime soon.

bruce placing a hand behind your back will only result in you digging deeply into his forearms, wide eyes and heaving breaths that reflects not only utter fear but a thinly-veiled threat of another session of attempting to uppercut him, like you're some wild prey ready to make a run if he dares push the boundaries you settled for. yet all he does is try his best to warmly smile at you without any weariness, not even any vigilance of your future actions, and most especially not fear.

how long are you going to fight them? why are even you doing this? to soften the blow? to make them wish they regret even taking you away from the first place? or do you wish for them to feel a semblance of fear you felt whenever their toned arms surprised you from when they appeared before a shadow? do they not know just how deeply terrified you are of them, that you're doing all this because you're afraid of their strength?

except, what you expected never came. you would've been fine with them punishing you, slowly losing their inhibitions, snarling at you every damn time you snap, becoming tired of your antics and threatening to throw you out, even mocking you for your weakness; anything...!

but not whatever this is.

not the stupidly gentle smiles, or the droopy eyes that look as if they've fallen in love even more at just how much droplets of blood you were able to procure with another set of scratches against jason's forearms. not the astounded whistles at another bruise you managed to punch into steph's shoulders after a momentary lapse of shock from another one of her back hugs— as of this were some all sick form of therapy. you know they're taking your daily fights seriously, you know it because they always take note of it by staring at each other every time you manage to injure them! but fuck, why are they just letting you do as you will?

since when have your nails been longer, sharper even?

why is jason just... staring at you, his gaze proud and mighty, not out of his attempts at mocking you but looking genuinely so gratified. there's rivulets of crimson dripping down his neck all the way to the clavicle until it reaches his upper pecs, multiple indents of scars already faded, now overlayed with fresher, even deeper ones; displayed like a museum artifact by his loose tee. his fingers, shaky and equally scarred, moved to run over the inflicted injuries, touching and pressing deep, as it just as quickly finds its way to his mouth, lapping at the blood, his eyes never leaving your equally shivering form; dread and disgust curling into your very being.

he takes deep breaths after lapping his fingers clean, his fists are curled together like yours; except your nails are stained with blood, jason's, a stench that curdles deep into your nostrils. and for a second you feel something scarier than fear, an immeasurable pit of doom that looms over your back. for a second, you thought this would be the last time you'll ever see the light again. just as quickly as you scratched him, you try to retort with an excuse.

"jason, i'm- i'm so sorry i didn't mean to—!"

"we get it now, angel...

this is your way of coping, right? it's all good, do as much damage as you could 's long as you get it all out of your system, 'kay?

and thanks, by the way. this one's even better than the one you gave me just earlier."

what does he mean? what's even better...? you just- you just gave it your all trying to engrave your sharp nails into already scarred skin; why is he talking to you as if he's congratulating you rather than scolding you?

no, no, no... he shouldn't be all like this... why is everybody staying silent all throughout? why do your ears wring, every sound mapped around the house turned into one singular sound? this shouldn't be happening, no! he should be mad, should be punching you, bruce should've broken you both up the moment he noticed your hands make a way for jason's neck— yet since when did anybody try to interrupt?! the only damn time, god... the only time they ever do is when you try to inflict injuries on yourself, but never on others... just why?

there's sudden clapping that distracts you from your thoughts, from dick's or duke, you don't know? one of them is saying something and you can't comprehend it other than one-liners and muffled, incomprehensible words.

"—'m jealous of you," that's duke's voice! what else is he saying? why is he envious? of what exactly? the fear doesn't settle down unlike all the other times, there's tears that began brimming on your eyes and you still stand in the middle of the living room, the chandelier's light basking you in its ethereal glow, yet you feel the opposite. you're no angel as what's jason called you, and the people surrounding you are more like demons than anything else; witnessing your fall from grace, taking you away from your home whilst having the audacity applauding your presence as if you've fucking graced them.

and then steph coos, your head snaps to the direction of her grating "awe's!". you're convinced she's looking at jason like he's been vindicated for some crime, eyes you never knew could hold so much anger and spite. you don't know why she does, you don't understand the hidden implications of her next words, you can only watch from a distance.

"that should've been me, y'know! that's so unfair of you!" her seething voice and hardened glare at the man subsided into your thoughts; who wishes to be hurt? who even wants to be the victim of your feisty glares and venomous insults? you know they don't like it when you stare at them with burning hatred— but why do they enjoy it when you physically scar them instead? when you punch at their noses and watch as the blood stains their clothes evidently?

and yet it only registered within your mind just now: how they never seem to patch up any of the marks you imprint on their body. it's only now that you realize that they always bare it right in front of everybody, some even wearing looser clothes that give others a peek of their skin in the more intimate places you've marked. there's bandages from when they go home after every patrol, there's casts that they wear after suffering through broken bones and dislocated limbs from the criminals they fight every night— but never with you, not even a gauze from when you've cut all too keenly into damian's cheeks, a deep gash that he's sported proudly throughout the following months with everyone else seething, even bruce seems envious of his own son.

"well, it's not my fault you didn't try hard enough, blondie. right, angel? guess they love me even more than you," his sultry words pierced through your mind, and for just a second, he was already at your side, hands weighing on your shoulder whilst his head makes its way to the crown of your head, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on your forehead. he releases an airy laugh at the complaints that come after. and for a second, your claws were ready to retaliate from mere instinct, at how he dares treat the entire situation like a bragging right; but unlike last time, you try to hold back, shoulders sagging as you try to blink out the tears running down your eyes; all right after discovering their... sick fetishes.

fetishes you didn't know run deeper than just that. you don't even know of the competition they hold every night right after they put you to sleep, counting each and every scar, every pull of the hair, every bloodied nose, bruised eyes, scratched skin, cuts inflicted from knives and other sharp objects laying around, your very own murder attempts at your abductors; all tallied and inputted into barbara's coded system that tracks and points each and every injury. you don't know just how much they cherish these marks you left in their body, like medals dangling off their parts that showcase their dedication, their patience never dwindling at achieving your trust— bruce once said it was an unhealthy habit of yours, but dick retaliates, saying it's the only way they could get closer to you.

it's the only time that you willingly touch them, even if it's with animosity, with passion and hope that someday you'd maim them just hard enough to escape.

"don't even think tonight's over yet, todd. you all simply haven't seen what they've done to me just yet," now it's damian who butts in, with emerald eyes gleaming with emotions you're still unable to detangle. yet now there's hints of rage, a face that says he's ready to compete with what jason has to offer now, hands caressing the cloth he wears that hides an injury enough to compete with the pain you've inflicted upon jason, an injury you're far too familiar with.

he's the youngest, and sometimes, you feel the most fear trying to discern why he's too possessive of your time, of your space and your presence, all whilst sporting a glare that never seems to lighten. but nothing ever changed the fact that he's the one who pushes all your buttons the most, he's the one with the cruelest words and sickening intentions, enough for you to treat him the foulest you ever could; with murder the only product in your mind every time he tries to even come closer to you.

and his words right now made you realize just how deeply you fucked up, and just how equally as fucked up your abductors truly are...

after all, you did just bite him earlier, in the space between his neck and shoulders from when he attempted to lick at your neck, making sure your teeth grates at his skin and nearly rips at flesh; to the point where the taste of blood that filled your mouth still lingers even until now.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: art by yuto sano. written in 30 minutes sheesh. you know what's scarier than your kidnappers retaliating against you whenever you try to attack them? them taking it all in stride instead. the delusional belief that it's your own expressive way of getting used to their presence— even going as far as turning it into some sort of competition on who gets to have the most scars by the end of the day. i think that's absolutely more insane than just punishing you, and please tell me i was at least able to portray the feeling of doom well with this. i also hope this isn't too ooc. guys, pls pls pls tell me what you think of this, did this cook or what? interaction's been low lately and i've been feeling demotivated to write so uhm... also, if anyone wants me to write the difference between the romantic or platonic implications of masochist/sub batfam, just tell me and i will!

this is inspired by @on-leatheredwings post about masochist tim drake. she's literally the reason why i read the entire red robin comic run and was obsessed with him for like a long period of time because of her banger portrayal of him. and it's also inspired by @sleepingdiaryzzz's recent post, her writing is really immaculate and well thought out unlike mine LMAO and she's a tad bit underrated so you guys definitely should check her out! this post is also dedicated to @neerathebrightstar, thank u for being my coolest supporter ever.

[succo-al-limone]

DC doodles for funzies

[haroldhighballjordan]

I know for a fact that Bruce Wayne has never once looked at a credit card statement in his entire life and all his bills are on autopay. But for the funnies, I can only imagine what his individual children's statements look like. I'm sure he's got them all as authorized users on like a single black card account, and he's able to separate the statements by the individual cards, and I just imagine him highlighting confusing purchases, taking pictures of them and texting it to his kids like "?????"

[casscainmainly]

I love how Cass is like 'I couldn't find a present for Dick :(' and Duke's first response is to comfort Cass, and then say 'just give him something already in the house'. Like he really doesn't give a damn about Dick. What an icon.

From Batman: Urban Legends #10

[adhahyperfocusingonsomething]

Duke: “Why are French Fries called French Fries? They aren’t French.”

Jason: “Maybe your supposed to speak French when eating them”

Dick: “OR Maybe they are so hot, that when people eat them they go WEH WEH HOHN HON trying to cool their mouths.”

Duke:

Jason:

Jason: “That’s so ridiculous it’s almost funny.”

[oocdc-tweets]

Jason’s Favorite

Masterpost

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[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason drinks alcohol for the first time ever post resurrection and makes some questionable choices in the form of plastered phone calls and worrisome messages/voicemails.

He wakes up the next morning to at least ten missed calls and dozens of panicked text messages.

[need-a-name-101]

You know in that episode of how I met your mother where they find out that Barney always looks good in pictures no matter what. Yeah that’s Dick Grayson. No doubt.

A paparazzi is trying to catch him off guard while he suddenly sneezes, later they check the camera it’s Dick with the most dazzling smile.

Jason tries to take a picture of him when he is barely conscious, Dick is smiling with a peace sign and he looks good.

Tim on purpose collides with Dick in manor with hot coffee in his hands to have it spill down on Dick’s white shirt, Babs clicks a picture as Dick is telling Tim it’s okay. In the picture yes the shirt has spilt coffee but Dick looks poised and handsome.

Jason makes a deal with Damian to have Dami paint Dick’s face as he sleeps. They proceed to click a picture, Dick is on the sofa in a pose, laying on his side with a hand on his hip and the other supporting his head.

Wally tries to take a picture mid vomit, and boom there stands Dick Grayson with disheveled look, which looks as if done on purpose. (It wasn’t Wally knows, at the start of the night it was slicked back) and the top buttons of the shirt open, Dick is giving a blinding smile to the camera. No vomit in sight.

Jason draws penises on Dicks face, when he looks back on the picture. He face is clean, Dick is giving the camera a lopsided smile and when Jason looks up Dick is no longer there.

Steph tries to click a picture when Nightwing losses his balance and slams face first into a wall. Some blood drips down from his nose and yet he looks poised. He is giving the camera a thumbs up.

Duke tries to get one as a thug tries to slam Dick on the hood of the car. In the picture Nightwing is perched on the thugs back, whose face was smashed on the hood of the car by Dick.

Cass tried to take one when Dick nearly chocked on some food at a gala. When she looks at the picture it’s Dick holding a glass of Champagne (he was not holding that before) and leaning on the wall beside him.

Tim looks back on all his stalker photos he had taken and realises it’s the same case in all of them. He has one photo in which Robin Dick had fallen in Gotham Harbour and was soaking wet, still in the photo he looked sort of posed, straight back, a slightly tilted head.

Cass breaks in Dick’s apartment to catch him off guard. Dick had just woken up. She clicked a picture and it’s Dick in a shirt and shorts, in the perfect I just got out bed look. But he had just literally gotten out of bed.

Babs tried to take one as Dick just got out of a shower when they were dating. He walked out with a towel around his waist, and he was drying his hair with another towel. In that he didn’t even pose, the photo just looked fucking amazing.

She even went back and saw all the pics they had when they were in school and In all Dick looked great. Even the one she had managed to click when she and Dick had messed up a chemistry experiment because they were talking and parts of Dicks lab coat were signed.

Bruce banned taking photos on patrol because all of them tried to take a picture of Nightwing as he fought some low level thugs. Which lead to robin getting distracted as he tried to take a picture while grappling and hit a wall. Red Hood forgot to switch off his flash which lead to his position being revealed , and he got shot. Red Robin lost balance and fell of a gargoyle. Spoiler got distracted while sneaking around and blew their positions. On the rare occasions when Signal was with them he tried to take a picture and walked right into the drug deal they were about to bust surprising the criminals. Orphan got distracted and nearly got hit on the head. Even Oracle got distracted while trying to get embarrassing pictures of Nightwing while she was supposed to be finding a bank robber. She found the robber but not the a single embarrassing moment of Nightwing. No one had gotten the picture they were trying to click.

Even Bruce has no idea how Dick pulls it off. He refuses to partake in this silly competition set up by his kids. The betting pool is so huge that it involves all of Dick’s friends, the JLA and most of the people in the caped community. The money in the pool by now must be more than what Bruce makes in a year.

[gbirrd]

DUN-DUH-DUH-DUUUUHN!

suprise! i've been working as part of ANOTHER Bang! I paired up once again with the delightful @englandamericaitaly to create this piece for their fic as part of the @dpxdcbigbang !

you can read their fic here- a really fun read, and of course I drew the scene with my boy Duke. we gotta step up folks! not enough art of this weird little daylight-loving freak out here!

Image ID:

A drawing of a very dark train tunnel, with a rail track stretching down from the top towards the bottom of the image. At the top of the piece near the back of the tunnel is Duke Thomas in his Signal armour, giving off a strong yellow glow as he is crouched over Clayface, arm raised in a fist to punch him as his head is raised to look up with glowing eyes. Clayface's hand is wrapped around Duke trying to pull him off. At the bottom of the page near the front of the tracks, Jazz Fenton stands facing Duke with a faint green glow. Three shadowy figures stand behind her. In the top right corner there is a close-up panel of Jazz's eyes, in all green, and mirroring it in the bottom left are Duke's eyes in all yellow.

[windows-dial-up-sound]

Where are the Duke Thomas stans on this app. Why is it that when I want some quality Duke Thomas content I have to wade through a never-ending river of incorrect quotes and "how the batkids would react" posts. He's not even in half of them. What's happening. Where is he.

[jelyflesh]

Can someone pls give me like a comprehensive characterization of all the characters in the batfam??? I’m trying to write fics on them and I SO DO NOT want to mischaracterize them. Like how Jason was not the angry robin, but in fact the sweetest and only 4 apples tall Robin, while Dick “Crashout” Grayson was out here raging on every criminal. Things like that would help give depth to the characters Any additional lore as well would be good, as I’ve only been consuming batfam content through tumbler, fics, and other mishmash from social media. I’ve yet to start the comics and no ideas on where to start so any help there would be GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

[acid-ixx]

(masterlist &. synopsis) gn! chronically ill reader with a platonic! yandere batfam who accepts their pampering

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: sorry for the on and off hiatus ^^ i am very much invested in dc and altho i have only read a few comics, i try to be very close to canon with this one. this was written with POTS in mind but the illness is vague for the purpose of inclusivity !! requests will be open soon enough once i fix my account up and add request rules. keep in mind, the reason why i would be posting separate headcanons is because i plan for each of them to be longer than usual.

just imagine life with platonic! yandere batfam after their initial kidnapping. they've abducted you after a few months of stalking, gathering every bit of information about you from either the long or short times you've talked to them, or from watching you from afar at your most vulnerable state inside your very much hidden-camera-free apartment (lies. they have cameras implanted in every crevice of your room and even tampered with security cameras in the entire building just to ensure ultimate surveillance for you!)— it may be illegal, sure, no kidding it is, but they promise it's for your safety (and well-being) and nothing else! (other than the fact that they needed to know everything about you to guarantee your permanent stay with them would be stress-free and enjoyable not only in their eyes but yours too, especially since you require more needs than the average person but, ah! you just perfectly captured the attention of the most capable people who would bend the rules of the universe just for you.

everything was very much an elaborate scheme to get you to easily submit to their whims without a single fibre of fight in your bones. they have your entire room set up; ones with the comfiest sheets, a room where fresh, unpolluted air is accessible through baby-proofed windows— and you can even keep your (hacked) phone to call them whenever you need something. really, you have everything you need! all you have to do is accept their proposal... though, they wouldn't mind being patient either way.

what they didn't know was that they didn't even need to go through so much effort to keep you from escaping. hell, it's like the moment your eyes blink the tiredness away, and your brain registers the entirely new (and bigger) space you were in, it's like you merely accepted your fate.

you're creepily greeted with almost the exact same copy of your room, except the blanket you know and love with the same color, same design, same smell doesn't feel, or much less have the same texture as your previous blanket. in fact the fabric is way more high quality, the texture doesn't overstimulate you as much as the sheets you were used to back at home. the lights aren't as bright, in fact it was a welcoming shade that blends in well with the natural light that floods through the windows— windows that welcome in the faintest scent of floral growth, fresh and unlike the polluted air of gotham that you were never accustomed to.

before you could even force your body to sit up, joints a tad bit heavier and your mind cloudier than before, a soft knock disrupts your train of thought. the door opens and you are greeted with a butler and... even stranger, bruce wayne with his other children in tow.

[imthenextrobin]

i need the bats to go to america. please. pretty please

Bruce originally planned to take only Damian to America, just to scope the town that had been rumored to be holding the main factory for a new toxic chemical. However, his kids decided that they wanted to venture with them, and soon they all landed in a [random] southern state.

and. it’s a huge culture shock. because let’s be honest, the bats are not ready for the south. the bats are not ready for the north. they are not ready for the east. they are not ready for the west.

Immediately, the people were nicer, way nicer. This wasn’t surprising, as they came from GOTHAM. which yes, is known to be the most dangerous city, and that reputation led to lots of mean people.

(In reality, Gothamites were actually really chill with each other, the only reason being that nobody wanted to create another villain of the week)

But these people? They casually greeted others, even strangers like Bruce. A random teen would come up to Dick and compliment his outfit, a grandma would come up to Jason and ask for his help (which did not make him tear up, shut the fuck up Tim.)

A kid would accidentally bump into Bruce, only to instantly apologize profusely and be called back from his mom. Group of teen girls came up to Steph and Cass to ask them where they got their clothes from, only to talk for more than two hours at the mall the batfam were visiting.

Multiple more interactions happen, but i’m too tired to write them.

The biggest difference they experienced?

The high schools.

(but that’s another post, where I drop the batfam in high school.)