#so yeah he feels more like a sidekick so far

[beevean]

*Hears everything about Nocturne being Sonic SatAM in all but name*

... So, does the opening theme shill Richter despite him being nothing more than Maria's lapdog?

Well, it doesn't have an opening in the first place lol, because it's too serious and edgy for that.

But if it did, it would sound like this...

(thank you @woodchipp for being the funniest person alive)

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[witherby]

With Dick being so angry about Conner breaking in i could only imagine how chatic him actually meeting Conner would be, like having to keeo him in one of those kiddie keashes or he‘ll try to kill the guy 😭

A 17 year restrianing a whole adult man with one of those kid harnesses

Honestly? Yeah. Gimme some genuinely angry Nightwing every once in a while. Let that parentified man get some of that pent-up rage out!!!

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Family

Masterlist is Here!

Conner opens his eyes and sits up when he hears you step into his room. He stares at you incredulously, then at the darkness and the way it seamlessly folds and bends to your will.

"You're invulnerable?" You ask him.

"Yes?" He responds, confused. It's just past eleven at night, and you've shown up out of nowhere to chat when the only other time you've spoken was when he came to your room three days ago. "A bullet bounces off me at point-blank range. Feels like somebody flicked me with their finger, at most."

"Okay," you say, looking nervous, "because my family found out you broke into the house to talk to me, and they're, like, super livid. I just came to give you fair warning because they might, uh, try to kill you."

Conner chuckles. Your face doesn't change. He stops chuckling.

"What, you're serious?"

"They're looking for their stashes of Kryptonite right now. I hid most of it, but they probably have more I don't know about. Just...be prepared. And don't kill any of them, or you'll have to hide from me, next."

The shadows in his room curl around you again. You step into them and allow darkness to envelop you completely.

"Bye, Conner."

"Um," he blurts, cheeks reddening, "same. I mean, bye. Goodbye to you, too."

He hears you snort in amusement before you're gone again. Conner is then left alone to process, 1, that you were concerned for his well-being enough to come warn him about your family, and 2, that he made you laugh.

He can't sleep the rest of the night, giddy with the swell of adoration he has for you.

--

The next time Luthor has him leave the facility to do his job as Superman, it's when the first Superman has to go off-world again over a month later. Conner stops a bank heist, saves some hostages, puts out a fire, and helps a child find her parents when she wanders too far off in the mall.

Then he meets your youngest sibling.

His moniker is Robin. The implanted information helps Conner identify him immediately, which helps him realize that Robin should not be in Metropolis, and especially not in full costume. Alarm bells are ringing in his head.

"I was warned you might show," Conner says, hovering in the air as he looks down at Robin.

"Then you know what you've done wrong," Robin calls back, unsheathing a sword from his back and pulling a batarang out of his pocket. "Come here and face the consequences."

"I'm fine where I'm at, thanks."

"It wasn't a request, Superboy."

"Superman," Conner frowns.

Robin sneers. "Not from what I see."

Conner feels a flare of anger surge within him. What was the big deal? He just needed to see you. He didn't hurt you — he would never dare — just stopped by your home to talk. And you did the same thing! Why some human with an eye mask and a sword feels like they can berate him for that, he doesn't know, but he's not going to take it lying down.

Faster than Robin can blink, Conner snatches the weapons from his hands and tosses them aside, then flips his cape over his head with a sneer.

"Go home, sidekick," Conner says. "I don't have time for this."

"I do."

Something hits Conner's back. It actually hurts, which is the surprising thing, and he yelps as a man in black and blue spandex descends upon him and starts beating him with a pair of escrima sticks. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by a brand new sensory input he hasn't experienced before, then brings his arms up to shield his head and curls up further.

Nightwing, his brain registers between the blows. But according to his knowledge base, the man is usually not this violent. He always pulls back from an opponent when they duck down or hit the ground, and Conner is practically in fetal position. His sticks are glowing green, which is not a good sign. Conner feels sick.

"Oh, shit — hey, he's on the ground, pull it back!"

"This wasn't the plan, Nightwing, cool it —"

"I think he's doing great. Let him get a few more swings in."

"Robin you're not helping!"

"Seriously, get off him!"

Conner groans and gasps in pain. His whole body feels like it's on fire. There's sounds of a scuffle happening above him, but he picks up on someone else's shaky breathing a few yards away.

He cracks an eye open and spots a civilian half-hidden around the corner, filming everything happening.

The birds want to come to Metropolis and mess with him? Well, two can play at that game. They're about to be hated by the masses for touching the city's new golden boy.

Conner makes a panicked expression, lifts his arm and waves it in a sweeping motion, and starts shaking his head.

"R-run," he wheezes, "go, get away from here, get to safety!"

"What's he — shit! HEY, C'MERE!" Nightwing gasps, pointing at the civilian. The woman turns and darts into the building she was hiding by, fingers flying across her screen like lightning. "God dammit! Red Robin, can you —"

"I can't," the third figure standing by him says, sounding just as stressed. Conner recognizes both him and the Red Hood's silent figure, who had been physically holding Nightwing back from continuing to swing on him. Robin tsks and presses a few buttons on his gauntlet.

"We'll need to retreat and prepare to do damage control. The batmobile is coming, ETA 30 seconds. What do we do with him?" Robin kicks Conner's arm.

"We can't leave the kid. He's got Kryptonite poisoning and we dunno where his boss is to dump him for medical help," Red Robin says, crossing his arms and sighing. "We gotta take him with us and get the shards out."

"I say leave him anyway. It's just a couple pieces, and if he's as stupidly strong as the real Supes, he'll walk this off," Red Hood suggests.

"We wouldn't have to debate this if Nightwing had kept his cool," Robin grouches. Nightwing has the good graces to look chagrined and tucks his sticks away.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about...I'm sorry. C'mon, B will skin is alive if he finds out we left him for dead. Get him in the car."

They're about to abduct him, now, too? Conner almost laughs at the absurdity. All of this, just for paying you a visit? It's madness. But then he imagines some other stranger breaking into your room to talk to you, to touch you, to hurt you, and has to focus his energy to not start burning everything with his laser vision. It's not really absurd anymore. If he could draw a full breath without feeling like white-hot knives are slicing his vary atoms apart, Conner would attempt to explain himself. But he can't, so he doesn't.

He doesn't resist when two of them lift him and start loading his body into the back of a sleek, black vehicle. Metropolis' threats have been neutralized for today, so he technically doesn't need to stay in town. Instead, he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift.

They're taking him to Gotham, which is where you live. He has no qualms with that.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The Best Friend Showdown

Season four had many, many flaws. One of the big ones was the Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict where Ladybug starts relying on Alya more and more, basically using her to replace Master Fu. We get a sense that Chat Noir feels inferior to Rena Rouge because of this change, but it’s never directly addressed. The most we get is this conversation from Hack-San:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right. 

Which is actually a really weird bit of dialogue because - as far as I can tell - nothing in the episode revealed that Scarabella knew Ladybug's identity. She hands out miraculous all the time and no one knows who she really is. Why would this time be different? Ladybug could just show up in costume, explain what's up, and then hand off the earrings while using yet another miraculous.

Anyway, the Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict is “resolved” by Rena Rouge being outed again (and I guess that matters this time), leading her to give up her miraculous so that Gabriel can’t steal it away, which of course leads Gabriel to steal it away and fully disempower Ladybug’s larger team, leaving Chat Noir her only teammate.

How satisfying! This is such good, character-driven story telling!

It’s not. This is plot contrivances to the max with no meaningful character beats, but we’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to do one of my favorite things: gush about a relevant Kim Possible episode! Today’s topic is episode 12 of season one: Pain King vs. Cleopatra, the episode that introduces Kim’s female BFF, Monique!

This was a bit of a shocker for me because I didn’t realize that Kim and Monique weren’t pre-series friends. Turns out that, much like Alya, Monique is a new girl, which isn’t a bad call. This was a nice way to delay Monique’s introduction for a few episodes so that the writers could focus on establishing Kim’s relationship with other key members of the cast like her partner, Ron. Spacing out your intros is the way to go whenever you can pull it off as it’s a kindness to your audience that keeps them from feeling overwhelmed, making it more likely that they’ll remember your cast.

The other, more important similarity between Alya and Monique is that, when Kim’s hero partner and life-long friend finds out about Monique, he is less than thrilled:

Kim: I barely got to see them. Right after I hooked up with Monique, the museum was robbed by some glowing-headed animal guy. Ron: Oh, that's nice. Ron: Wait a minute, who's Monique? Kim New friend, really great. Anyway, the thief stole an enchanted ancient talisman. Ron: Whoa, whoa, back up! How can I not know about a new friend? Kim: I met her at Club Banana, then again at the museum before I chased the glowing robber. Ron: So what's she like? Kim: The robber? Ron: The friend, Kim, the "new friend".

Throughout the episode, Kim and Monique continue to bond without Ron, leaving Ron feeling left out:

Ron: Seein' a pattern here, Rufus: Kim does her thing, I do my thing, and pretty soon - we're doing different things.

Which leads him to get a little territorial:

Kim Ron! What are you doing here? Ron: Can I dine with my best friend and her new friend? Kim: Uuh, Ron, Monique, and vice versa. Ron: Bearclaw? Monique: No, thanks, I'm vegetarian. Ron: Uhm, I'm pretty sure it's imitation bear? Kim: She's joking, Ron. Ron: Good one, hahaha, ha, good one. So, did Kim tell you that I'm her sidekick? Cause that role is definitely taken by me. Monique: Riiiight. Well, in... you know I better get to class. Later, Kim. Um, n-nice meeting you, Ron. Ron: Likewise, I'm sure! Kim: What is your problem? You're acting really weird. Ron: Well, let's see. You went to the museum with Monique, not me. Monique was with you this morning, not me. Hmm, pattern? Kim: Yeah. You. Weird. Ron: No, we're drifting apart because you're excluding me. Kim: I am not excluding you. It's just that you and Monique are... different.

Noticing some similarities to Miraculous here?

So how does Kim Possible resolve this conflict?

Well, the plot of this episode resolves around Kim Possible’s version of professional wrestling, the GWA. There’s a competition going on that Kim has no interest in watching (mood), but when Kim mentions the GWA to Monique:

Monique: Why didn't you bring [Ron] along? Kim: Unless someone put a waiter in a headlock, this is definitely not Ron's scene. Besides, he had a date with "Steel Toe". Monique: He scored tickets to Mayhem in Middleton? The GWA rocks! Kim: What?

It turns out that Monique and Ron have a shared interest! Multiple shared interests, in fact! Interests that Kim does not share:

Monique: You know, I still can't believe you met Pain King and Steel Toe. Ron: I can't believe you're into wrestling. Kim: I can't believe I know either one of you.

By the end of the episode, the conflict is resolved not with Kim having to pick a BFF or with Monique somehow being demoted, but by showing that this didn’t need to be a conflict at all. Kim can have multiple close friends that she shares different interests with without any of those friends being lesser. Those friends can, in turn, have their own friendships that don’t always involve her.

It’s a genuinely lovely resolution that makes me love this little friend group because it now has added complexity. Monique and Ron are friends in their own right! Kim is not the center of the universe in spite of her main character status!

I also love that Kim isn’t vilified for having other friends or portrayed as constantly leaving Ron out of things that he'd want to do in favor of Monique. Ron genuinely would not enjoy most of the things that the girls love to do together. At the same time, Ron’s feeling aren’t treated as totally irrational either and Kim even admits to ditching him. It’s a genuine, complex conflict that is super common when someone enters a new relationship be it platonic or romantic.

Obviously Kim Possible’s version of this conflict feels far less complex than Miraculous’ because Kim Possible understood that Ron should be Kim’s one-and-only partner, so his position was really never threatened. Monique does not want to be an action hero and is never given the sort narrative weight that elevates her to Ron’s level or higher, but that doesn't matter. The basic lesson here is still relevant and super important for the intended audience of both of these shows.

There did not need to be a Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict that never got properly resolved. Miraculous could have made these two friends and no, Scarabella doesn't count because Chat Noir has no idea that Scarabella is Rena Rouge/Furtive. Their relationship ended at the end of Hack-San. He didn't even know that Rena Furtive was a thing until she was in the process of being benched and that's the problem.

Kim Possible is not a team show, Miraculous is, and yet Kim Possible has better team dynamics than Miraculous. Monique could have joined Kim's team at the end of Pain King vs. Cleopatra and it would have felt natural because both Kim and Ron had welcomed Monique and formed a genuine bond with her. This is a true friend group that Miraculous can only dream of even though they've been adding new superheroes since season two.

We're going into a season with a full, massive team and yet that team has no established dynamics on the hero side. It's not a functional team! None of these characters have meaningful relationships with each other as heroes save for Alya and Nino since they know each other’s secret identities. The only relationships Miraculous cares about are the various romances and everyone's relationship to Marinette and everyone suffers for it.

The show would not have been harmed by Rena Rouge, Chat Noir, and Ladybug being a team. It was the thing I kept think after watching the Kim Possible episode. Since the team is the end game, why aren't we seeing them? It would have been so nice to have Hack-San end with Ladybug introducing Chat Noir to Rena Furtive instead of a nonsense discussion about an issue the episode didn't even address.

[writeriguess]

For a request could you do Hawks with a new young sidekick probably like 18 years old who people are being very inappropriate towards? Like they’re at a meet and greet panel and they’re asking her inappropriate questions that make her visibly uncomfortable? And he defends her and protects her from these creepy older men not in a romantic way but in like a protective older brother sort of way?

Wings of Protection

The panel room is buzzing with excitement, fans packed into rows of chairs that stretch far back into the convention hall. Flashing lights from phones and cameras are a constant, and the air hums with anticipation. You’re seated beside Hawks, your mentor—the Number Two Pro Hero himself—who leans back in his chair, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

You, on the other hand, feel your heart racing. It’s your first big event as Hawks’ sidekick, and the pressure of representing him—and yourself—is nerve-wracking. The panel starts off easy enough, questions about your quirk and how you got into hero work. Hawks even jumps in with a few jokes to ease the tension, flashing you a grin that you gratefully return.

But as the questions keep coming, a darker edge starts creeping in.

A man from the middle row—greasy hair slicked back and a grin too wide—leans forward to speak into the mic. "So, sidekick, are you just there to be eye candy for Hawks or do you actually do any real hero work?"

You blink, caught off guard, but force a smile. "I help out where I can. I’m still learning."

"Is that all you’re learning?" he asks, leering. "Bet Hawks has been teaching you all kinds of things, huh?"

You freeze, eyes widening as a few snickers break out. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you feel Hawks tense beside you.

"Hey now," Hawks says, voice light but edged with warning. "She’s my sidekick, not my personal assistant. Let’s keep it professional, alright?"

The man raises his hands as if in surrender, but the smirk remains. Hawks brushes it off, but you see the way his wings twitch, feathers fluffing with irritation.

More questions follow, most harmless, but the crude ones start stacking up.

A man from the back pipes up. "What cup size are you, sweetheart? Got some fans curious!"

Laughter erupts, and your face flames. You barely hear Hawks’ scoff over the noise. The pro hero leans forward, a sharp grin pulling at his lips, though his eyes are cold.

"You looking for a lawsuit, pal?" Hawks drawls, but there’s a bite to his words. "Pretty sure that’s harassment."

The man mutters something under his breath, but the panel continues. More questions fly—mostly for Hawks—but another guy leans in with a grin. "Are you, uh, open to dating older men? Bet it gets lonely in the sidekick business."

"I—I’m not—" you stammer, hands curling into fists.

"Yeah, man, it gets real lonely," Hawks cuts in, lazy smirk on his lips. "But she’s busy saving lives, not your ego. Next question!"

A few of the fans laugh, but the guy looks miffed. You swallow hard, forcing a shaky smile. Hawks flashes you a reassuring wink, but the discomfort coils tighter in your gut.

The panel wears on, the air heavy with tension. One man in the front row leans closer, and you instinctively lean back.

"So, Hawks—" He doesn’t even look at you. "What’s it like working with a pretty little thing like her? Bet you have fun behind closed doors, huh?"

The tension snaps.

Hawks’ smile drops entirely. He leans forward, eyes glinting dangerously. The playful, charming hero is gone—what remains is the predator who took down countless villains with a flick of his feathers.

“You got a death wish?” Hawks asks, voice a low growl. The room falls silent, the tension crackling like lightning. "You come here to ask questions about heroes or to harass my sidekick?"

The man pales but tries to stammer out a reply. Hawks doesn’t let him.

"She’s here because she earned it, not because you get to drool over her. Show some respect, or I’ll escort you out myself."

Silence reigns. The man sinks into his seat, muttering apologies. Hawks sighs and leans back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Next question—one that doesn’t make me wanna kick someone’s teeth in, if you don’t mind.”

The rest of the panel wraps up with far less enthusiasm from the crowd, and Hawks makes sure you both leave quickly once it’s over. His feathers fan protectively around you, and his expression is all sharp edges as he leads you into the hallway.

“You alright, kid?” he asks, scanning your face.

You nod quickly, but the tightness in your throat betrays you. Hawks frowns, wings flexing.

“Hey,” he says, gentler now. “They’re just a bunch of losers with nothing better to do. You’re here because you’re good. Don’t let ‘em get to you.”

You swallow hard and manage a weak smile. “Thanks, Hawks.”

He smirks, ruffling your hair. “Don’t mention it. Next time, I’ll just kick ‘em out sooner.”

Despite the lingering discomfort, you laugh. With Hawks beside you, the fear slowly fades away.

[enviedear]

YOU DIDN'T SEE MY VALENTINE (I SENT IT VIA PANTOMIME)

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | Could I request Jason Todd being jealous of Dick and reader who is slightly older and he’s harboured a crush on since his Robin days? AND jason todd/reader + jealousy

CW | jealous!jason—nothing crazy, not canon compliant but this is my tl now, some 'will they, won't they', and lots of jason being weird with feelings. 1.2k words. 🎧ྀི

in all honesty, you knew richard grayson before you ever truly knew JASON TODD. he was just a pubescent sidekick the last time you'd seen him—masked in thinly veiled anonymity. both boistful and timid, he always brought a smile out of you—teen angst and all.

but then he died. your life continued, morphing into the blissfully misunderstood present of your early twenties. heroism sits on your backburner, choosing to slow down for a career. normalcy, in a sense. and even though you've more than officially retired from your masked identity, dick grayson still remains everpresent. he offers up unrelenting friendship with ease.

normalcy has faded in recent months. reanimation of a corpse has the tendency to do that. and despite being one of the last to learn of jason's return, you were one of the first for him to turn to, to seek out. his attitude, his spirit, his mere presence—have thrown your life into a complete tailspin.

he usually stops by unannounced, often bloodied and bruised. he's gruff and pointed. no longer timid, but apathetic. far different from the young boy you remember—that scrappy, defiant, and utterly resolved mini hero. back then, you’d barely had time to catch your breath between your own assignments to make any sense of the boy glaring up at you in challenge. always like he had something to prove. his vigor had amused you then, but you couldn’t have known the weight behind it—not then.

now, it feels unavoidable. he doesn't talk about it, but he doesn't have to. it's in the way he carries his shoulders, tense and unsure. the way his once deep blue eyes have recast to a murky blend of frosted jade. he's changed, and yet you're still the one he seeks out. the thought has replayed and plagued your mind for days on end.

the kid you'd known had become something else entirely. taller, broader, with a rigid fixation toward you that feels…alarmingly familiar and unknown all at once. most times, you can't place why—that is, until he reminds you.

“dick’s taking you out again?” his voice cuts through the casual quiet of your apartment, where you’d been getting ready. the sound is rough, almost indifferent.

glancing over your shoulder, you spot jason leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and jaw tight. you never heard him come in, but he hasn't startled you. no, you expected him. you refocus on what he has asked—his question, though simple, has an unmistakable bite to it. you don't let it affect you, not now, or anymore.

at first it was hard to come to terms with the aggravation and disdain riddled within him. it spewed out so easily. now though, you understand it. no part of you enjoys it, but you love him. much more than he can seem to realize—too fractured to see through your companionship. a role reversal of utter hell.

you hesitate, brushing off the strange weight of his stare. “yeah. just dinner. catching up. he's been at work so much recently...”

you see a flicker of something unclear cross jason’s face. it’s quick—but the tension sticks, thick and heavy in the room. it's an old grudge, somehow outliving death. you suppose it makes sense—he spent years begging to patrol with the two of you, just to be firmly told no. he always got so agitated, completely annoyed. it seems he's the same, old habits die hard.

he clears his throat, still glaring severely, “right. catching up.”

there’s that bite again, sharper this time. he’s trying to be casual, but it doesn’t land.

“is something wrong?” you ask, turning to face him fully now, eyebrows raised and tone nearly exasperated.

he shrugs, but his eyes don’t meet yours. they’re focused somewhere over your shoulder. “just seems like dick’s always around, that’s all.”

you blink, surprised. “we’ve been friends for years, jason. you know that.”

“yeah, i know.” his voice is lower now, quieter. “i just…i don’t get why you still hang out with him so much.”

that gets your attention. the tension, the clipped responses—it all clicks into place. you rise, studying him. “are you… jealous?”

the moment the word leaves your mouth, you watch his posture stiffen. his eyes finally meet yours, a mix of frustration and something softer, almost vulnerable, in them.

“no.” he mutters, but it’s not convincing.

“jason.” you sigh, shaking your head. “dick is just a friend.”

“yeah, i know. so why's he’s always taking you out?” he huffs, and there it is—the frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface finally breaking through. “ever since i was a kid, he’s had your attention. i'm just...the other one.”

his words hang in the air, weighted with years of implicit beliefs. suddenly, you understand. this isn’t just about his brother. it’s about everything jason’s never said—the way he’d always felt second to someone else.

you take a step forward, close enough now that you can see the cracks in his bitter expression. and you notice the way he wants to pull back but doesn't—can’t.

“you have never been that to me, jason.” you say softly, your voice steady.

he scoffs, but there’s a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “yeah? didn’t seem like it.”

“maybe not then, but things are different now.” you say, holding his gaze. “you’re different. we’re different. everything, is different.”

for a moment, jason doesn’t say anything. he just looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out if he should believe you.

“doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” he mutters, quieter now. the tension shifts, softening slightly, though, his guard remains.

you take one last step, close enough that you can reach out and touch him if you wanted to. “jason.” you say, and his name comes out softer than you mean it to. “you have my attention now. not as a kid. not as robin. as you.”

there’s a pause, a beat of silence before he finally drops his eyes. when he looks back at you, there’s a flicker of longing in them, a look almost too vulnerable for the man he's returned as.

“you sure about that?” he asks, his voice quiet, like he’s afraid of the answer.

you nod, and this time, you close the distance. your hands gently tether to his crossed arms, “yeah, i’m sure.”

his muscles tense under your touch—but he doesn’t pull away. instead, his eyes fall to where your hands rest against him, something flickering there. you squeeze his arms lightly, attempting to ground him.

“jason,” you say softly, “i don’t see you the way you think i do. i never have.”

he lets out a rough breath, like he’s been holding it for ages. his gaze is still cast downward, jaw clenched. you wait, patient, giving him the space to find his words.

“i don’t know how to be around you anymore.” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “i want to be around you, like how dick is. i just...came back wrong.”

the confession rings in your head. you almost feel the weight of it, pressing against the edges of your chest, and your heart aches for him. for the boy he was, the man he’s become, and the space in between where he feels like he’s lost himself.

“you didn’t come back wrong.” you whisper, stepping even closer.

his head tilts slightly, as if he’s processing your words, trying to let them sink in past years of self-doubt.

his hands uncross slowly, falling to his sides, but he doesn’t pull away from you. instead, his right hand reaches up, hesitant at first, before he gently cups the side of your face. fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

“you sure about that?” he asks again, but this time there’s no malice. less unease.

you nod, your hand coming up to cover his, your voice steady. “yeah. i’m sure, jason.”

almost timidly, he speaks again, "can you just... just tonight, stay here."

you study him as you answer, "why?"

he sighs, eyes flicking to a wall, "grayson's had years to spend with you, i haven't. c'mon, let me take you out instead." he shrugs, looking at you now, "call it making up for lost time."

you can't fight the tug in your chest, and you nod—relenting, "fine." you offer him a small smile, "where are we going?"

you don't catch what he suggests, nodding along. you're too hyperaware of the dimpled smile on his face now. two perfect reminiscent pictures of the sweet kids you used to be. only, this time you're choosing him—and you plan to continue to.

[colossrat]

So, Billy is actually Bruce's biological son.

Marylyn married CC when she was already pregnant, CC knew and was okay with it, they really love each other and Bruce was just an accident? I don't know.

A few years later, Ebezener tries to sell this information, someone from the Waynes or Kanes, I don't know about that side of the lore… Are the Kanes still alive? Sorry, I'm ignorant in that area. SOMEONE is going to pay him to shut up. So they sell Billy again to a bunch of bad guys who are going to sell him AGAIN to somewhere, I don't know, far away from Gotham.

Well, but Billy is kind of like "oh my Gods, why this is my life", so he uses his powers, leaves the place as Cap and, as a bonus, he even gets Ebezener's money, the one the Kanes give him to shut up.

Kate, Batwoman, finds out, tells Bruce about this whole crap situation and now Batman is opening an operation to find this secret biological son, who was apparently sold to someone, but a mysterious magical person came there and saved him and the other children who were also being trafficked, but who??? This is a very secret operation, of course, only Wonder Woman, Superman and the Batfam are there to really know the details.

Well, but one day, like, YEARS after all this suffering, because Bruce never managed to locate this secret child that he now thinks is DEAD, boom, a child shows up on a mission, 15, 16 years old maybe, the age his secret son would be… blue eyes, dark hair, pale as paper, skinny, but yeah, it's pretty obvious. It's something immediate, but before he can say anything, someone else shows up, hugging the kid and saying that he was really worried.

Yeah, guys, Cap and Billy got separate cliche, but well, the JL, needed help, so they went to help them like this.

Billy is Billy, 16 year old Billy, and Marvel doesn't look like CC Batson, but rather like an adult version of Billy. Bodytpe less like Superman and more like Nightwing.

And then they introduce themselves as CAPTAIN MARVEL'S ADOPTED CHILDREN. Yes, we have Recruit (Billy) and Lightning (Thavma).

And so yes, they are helping the League, guiding them out of that evil, magical cave, and the League keeps asking questions.

Recruit, sitting on Lightning's shoulder: Uh… yeah, so, actually I… was going to… get taken by a metahuman taffricking ring, Lightning saved me and after that we really didn't want to be apart, he convinces Cap to adopt me too, and now he helps me with my magic training and everything. But I'm Lightning's… sidekick. Not Marvel's, that's why you guys and I have never really met.

Flash: Yeah, but like, even if we never met you since your hero job its not Marvel related, how come we never met Lightning? It feels like he's been a hero for a few years or more.

Lightning: I don't really like being seen. Im more of an underground hero? I want to help, but I honestly don't know how to deal with the public like Cap does. So I help in the shadows. I help, and then I'm gone. Maybe I'm more of a vigilante..? Not a hero.

And Batman's like, "I want to adopt you two now," but he's also like, "My baby found a good, powerful family, what right do I have to tell him about our kinship? What if this ruins everything for him? He's fine. He doesn't need me," but it destroys him.

He sees the way Recruit fights, remembers him of little Dick, jumping around and doing silly stunts. And his smile, so bright, so hopeful, so happy.

He hears his laugh and it calms something inside him.

"He's fine. He's happy, that's enough for me."

Billy and Cap actually take a long time to undo the magic spell that separated them, so they end up covering Marvel for other missions, and one day, Billy kind of spills the beans.

Kon: So, about your birth parents… Are they dead? Didn't they come after you were rescued from trafficking? Recruit: Uh, so… My parents are dead, but my dad was not my biological father, or something… My shitty uncle sold that information to my bio "family", I guess, and they're super rich, so they probably didn't want me to ruin their image in high society as some bastard orphan, so they were the ones who cut me out of that circle from the start. From what I heard when I was in the ring, my... Progenitor, has a lot of bastards already, and the family was happy to be able to stop another one from coming to steal their fortune or something. assholes, I never wanted to meet them in the first place, even if my uncle had dropped me with them, I wouldn't stay, I'd rather live on the streets again.

And some of the batfam, who know all about this "he's the one" thing, are there, listening, and they already know that these words are breaking Bruce from the inside out.

Lightning: You're being mean. We don't even know if they sold you out. The… Big guy seems to like adopting and doesn't care about their background. I believe it was a decision by the old conservative family heads.

Recruit: Don't sugarcoat it for the rich, they already pay people to do it. yeah, i know, maybe this is that "no he wouldn't do that" thing, but i wanted to write a sadder au with angst and misunderstandings and a sentimental bruce who longs to be a present father with a bonus of thavma and billy being brothers :D

[yandere-wishes]

which batboy does mittens have a crush on?

₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆

Oh, good question!! @fancyfeathers mentioned that Mittens should probably be the eldest of Selina's sidekicks. And is closest in age to Dick Grayson. Which opens up one of my fav tropes of "Childhood friends to lovers" (but make it yancore!!!)

He'd been so sweet once, little boy wonder swinging along the skyline. Pretty like a sunset, decked out in reds and yellows. You'd watch him from your perch atop the scrappers. Arms nervously ringing around a bagged-up bundle of jewels. Your mentor would scuff making comments about fruitless morals and pretty boys.

Kittens chase robins. It's the way the world goes around, just like how black cats chase bats.

You sneak behind him, punching on his back and rolling him around. Robin kicks your ribs out of instinct, aims for your stomach next with his knee. He only stops when his masked eyes meet yours, when he sees the sweet playful smile adorning your lips. This is a game...

It's always been a game.

At least to you...

You'd only learn, years later, that it had always been far too real to Dick.

Your siblings are better than you at the whole "cat burglar" thing. They creep through the shadows and glide through half-open windows. They steal rubies and diamonds and pearls. They leave little scratch marks and lipstick stains on the safes they rob. They spend the nights being chased by bats and birds. And then when the sun threatens to shine once more they steal kisses and love bites.

You'd always preferred the day. The monotone ease found only under the sun's gentle rays. You prefer to give instead of take, your youngest sister always said it was Nightwings fault for that. That the first robin had rubbed off too much on you.

You still keep an old photo of Dick in your apartment, a silly little photo of two kids, smiling with blood between their teeth and haphazard empty gums. Dick's nose is bleeding, you have a black eye.

You can't quite remember who took the photo.

Bruce or Selina.

It doesn't really matter.

Some things are far too deep-rooted. Crystallized in blood. You've long hung up your mask, and handed in your whip. You've renounced the ways of the cat, renounced the ways of a rogues. You spend your days inside a school, teaching the young of Gotham, watching how the trauma seeps in prematurely, coiling and embedding itself into the lady Gotham's children. Hurt them young so they learn to survive.

You feel so guilty...

It's hard to leave lineage rotting in its grave, hard to abandon and reject that which pumps through your veins. You still pick the locks, still, slip through shadows as if they were a second home, you're still more feline than human. More freak than normal.

Only this time you don't have your mentor or your sisters.

You don't have your claws or whip.

There's a security guard with a gun.

Pointed straight at you...

Dick Grayson, Robin, Nightwing. He'd been so sweet once. You're glad to see the saccharine hasn't washed off. The boy wonder stands in front of you, although you guess he isn't much of a boy anymore. His uniform is hard on your eyes, reality glitches, you see him dressed in his sunset colors. Reds and yellows, young and free. Dick offers you a sweet smile,

"Hey, it's been a while..."

"Yeah, it has."

Dick assures the security guard he'll handle you. Still, you don't miss the way his blue eyes burn holes into the other man's back. He opens the car door for you before getting behind the wheel. On the way, you try to reason with him. For old time's sake, you beg. "I really was just trying to get those kids some toys, but there's so many of them and the prices these days are-"

"I know," Dick says, his bright smile sends your heart a flutter. "It's alright, I'll take care of everything." You laugh leaning back, looking at his reflection through the mirror, that broken nose did end up healing nicely.

He doesn't take you to the station, instead he drives to his apartment. Deep down you knew he'd never hand you in, he couldn't, he'd spent his whole life watching that bat excuse the cat. He can't go against his training, he too can't abandon his heritage. He pulls you out of the car and into a tight embrace promising he'll keep you safe. And you hate how he feels all so utterly safe, how he smells like home and happiness. You hardly notice how hard he squeezes and how hungrily his lips hover above your pulse point.

Thus he spoke but you don't remember listening.

He spoke of finally having you again.

Of loving you again.

You only ever catch the odd word.

Utterly distracted by the delicate twinkle in his ocean eye.

It's hard to focus on the words when for the first time in a long long time you finally feel like your old self again.

High off nostalgia.

₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆

Okay, so all this being said there is an alternative.

@darkpeppermint had another idea, since Mittens is so different from the rest of her family, then she may not even fall for a batboy at all and just marry a sweet golden retriever farm boy...

And yet, despite the sweet fairytale twist they tried to propose. My sick and twisted brain heard the words "golden" and "farm boy" and immediately thought of PROFESSOR CRANE...

Maybe poor little Mittens ends up getting manipulated by the charming professor, Crane. Maybe they meet one day when she's taking her class on a field trip to Gotham U and ends up bumping into Jonathan.

There's just something so familiar about him. So nostalgic, he reminds her of home, of her family, of her childhood friends...he almost feels safe.

Welp Fancy, it finally happened we've become co-parents again.

Our children's list is Kachina and Mittens so far 🤣🤣 Let's see who gets adopted next lol.

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 4

Masterpost - Ao3

“Cassiopeia,” Danny murmurs, his eyes never leaving the glimmering void above him. “Though epsilon looks dimmer than it usually is. I wonder if it still has a ring...” Around him, the world is shadowed, the distant lights of cities visible on the horizon but not bright enough to truly disrupt his view of the night sky. It had been a bit nerve-wracking leaving the town, but he’d been making an effort to lay low for the last week, and had seen nothing to indicate anyone was coming to search for him. The idea of visiting the firefighters still makes his skin itch, but a little trip to stargaze had started seeming like a reasonable risk to take, and with the calm expanse of void above him, Danny can feel something deep inside of him settle. The buzz of fear that’s been around since before he even got here evaporates, as he counts the stars and constellations. They’re not all the same, Cygnus seems to be mostly missing, and a few of the individual stars Danny remembers seem to be gone, but for the most part, it’s the same. Certainly more familiar than anything else has been so far. The technology here is all far more advanced than anything Danny’s seen before, which is ironic considering the portal.

It’s funny, really that he can be this far away from home (a literally incalculable distance), and the stars are still generally the same. Even the ones that are new are still stars; still the same burning masses fueled by fusion and gravity, and feeding the universe at large with new material. They're still millions of light-years away, and yet they’ve been there for so long, streaming their light into a void, where it can eventually reach this very spot where Danny’s currently standing. All his problems seem so small in the face of the great expanse of space.

“Amazing!” Danny exclaims, letting himself just laugh with delight. Maybe he’s alone here, but has he ever felt this free before? Nobody to drag him away, or force him into fights, or yell at him about the chores he hasn’t done yet. Hell, if he really wanted to, he just take off, go hang out in space, maybe fly until he finds one of those alien planets that he’d seen mentioned on Wikipedia. Sure, it would probably take a stupid amount of time to get there, but he could , if he wanted.

Behind him, there’s a rush of air, and the sound of a person taking a breath, and Danny tears his gaze away from the stars, flipping himself into a fighting stance as he runs through the list of heroes he’d read about, trying to remember which of them could fly. As he turns, his eyes lock on to another boy, though, that looks to be close to Danny’s own age.

“Woah, dude.” The boy says, holding his hands up and floating a few feet backwards. “I’m not here to fight?”

“Then why are you here?” Danny asks. He is just a kid, so like, maybe , it’s safe, but also the symbol on the kids chest is the same one Superman was wearing, so he could just be a recruit or something.

“I dunno, man, I just heard you talking and got curious? Not exactly many people around that can just hang out in the sky, you know. I can leave if you want.” The other  boy’s expression seems sincere. Mostly he looks startled and a bit uncertain, and deeply unlike the weird, heroic, confident posture that Superman seemed to have in every picture. This guy looks like he’s trying to look confident, sure, but not like he actually is .

“You’re not Superman, but you’re wearing his logo.” Danny says. Dropping his stance, but not letting himself fully relax. Just because it’s not a fight, doesn’t mean he’s safe, after all.

“Yeah, uh, I’m Superboy.”

“Superboy,” Danny echoes. “I read something about sidekicks? Is that-” Danny cuts himself off when the other boy winces.

“No, I’m not his sidekick. More like he’s helping to train me. We’ve got the same powers, so... Yeah.”

“Huh. Training sounds... Nice? What’s that like?” Honestly, training sounds downright miraculous. Danny hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the destruction caused by the train crash, and how everyone in Amity had always complained about the damage caused by ghost fights. He hasn’t forgotten how much he’d gotten himself hurt in those early days either, not that anyone else had ever noticed that bit.

“Yeah, I guess it’s nice. I take it you don’t have a mentor, then?”

“I’m not a hero.”

“No? I thought- I mean, you look a lot like the description of the guy who helped with the train crash over in Concord.” Superboy frowns, glancing off in the direction of Danny’s hometown.

“I mean, yeah that was me but I’m not. I don’t wanna fight anyone.”

“Oh, yeah that’s totally fair.” Superboy immediately responds with a laugh. “Honestly most of what we do isn’t actually fighting people, so y’know. You don’t have to be a fighter to be a hero.”

“Oh.” That kinda makes sense. After all, Danny had done a lot of fighting back home, and nobody had called him a hero there.

“Yeah, it’s like. There’s a lot of stuff about emergency response and civilian rescue and stuff. Hell, from what I understand half of what the Bats do is just, like detective work. That’s a lot of what my training’s for, actually. I’m pretty good at destroying stuff, I guess, but Supes says I need better control, before I can be trusted to handle relief stuff, because I might accidentally hurt people with my strength or something.”

“That’s. Cool, I guess?” Danny risks a glance up at the stars. No attack comes with Danny’s split attention, though after a moment, Superboy slowly floats over to his side.

“What are you looking at?”

“The stars.”

“Just, like, in general?” Superboy asks. He sounds dubious, and Danny can feel him glancing between him and the sky every couple seconds.

“What, have you never gone stargazing before?” 

Superboy doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Danny glances over. The false confidence has completely evaporated from the other boy’s expression, and instead he just looks unsure.

“I’ve never really had the opportunity before.” Superboy finally murmurs, quieter than any of their conversation so far.

“Well, I guess you’re in luck!” Danny says, offering his new companion a smile. “Because I’m something of an expert in it!” And Danny begins to point to the different constellations, and tell Superboy as much as he can about all the stars and planets above them.

“You really are an expert, huh?” Superboy eventually says, in the middle of Danny’s tangent about why Pluto isn’t considered a planet anymore. That had been one of his most interesting discoveries in his Wikipedia explorations. He’d been kind of surprised at first when it hadn’t shown up on the list of planets, but he’d specifically searched for it, he’d learned about it’s reclassification, along with all the reasoning behind it. He’d been a little sad at first, but the realization that it came alongside the implication about a whole number of other bodies orbiting their sun had been exciting in it’s own way.

“Yeah,” Danny responds with a laugh. “I, uh, really like space. I actually wanted to be an astronaut as a kid.”

“But you don’t want to be one now?”

“I mean,” Danny hums. “It’d be nice, but I don’t think it’s really a plausible goal anymore. It- the way I got my powers came with some... complications. And anyway I kind of don’t legally exist anymore, so it’s. I can’t even go to space camp, let alone go to actual space.”

“Is that, uh, why you don’t have a normal heart beat? I didn’t wanna ask and be rude, but like, you sound kinda like a really large bee.”

“Yeah, that’s, um. I mean I’ve never been called a bee before, but yeah.”

“Wild. But like, if it’s meta stuff, then aren’t they legally not allowed to discriminate against you for it? They’re not just gonna be like ���oh you don’t have a heartbeat guess you can’t go to space.’”

“I mean, there was, like, a meta scholarship on the website, but...”

“You’re worried about revealing your identity.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, that’s fixable. I mean, I didn’t have an identity to even reveal until this year, so the Justice League can definitely-”

“I don’t want them to know about me,” Danny interrupts.

“Oh.” Superboy says. “Well, what about just, like one person? Because Robin could definitely make you a whole new identity all by himself, and I know he has no qualms about keeping shit secret from everyone else.”

“Robin.” Danny thinks he remembers that name being referenced in relation to Batman. Something about a boy wonder. “Is he our age?”

“Yeah.” Superboy looks excited. “I could introduce you sometime if you want?”

“I dunno.” Even one Justice League associate knowing about him is concerning, and if Superboy knows about the thing with the train, then probably the adult members do too.

“Well, you don’t have to decide now! I have super hearing so if you call my name I’m almost guaranteed to hear it!”

“You can just hear me anytime?” Danny asks.

“Oh, uh. I mean technically yes? But generally it’s like effort to just tune into one person from a distance. But I listen for anybody calling for me, in case they need help or whatever, so I’m always kind of listening for that.”

“I’’ll keep that in mind, I guess.”

“Right. Uh, do you wanna tell me more about the planets?”

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' BLINDSIDED ,,

|| pairings: dabi x gn!reader / touya todoroki x gn!reader

|| warnings: dabi is in rehab, i explain it later. reader is blind.

|| oh my god, achilles writing about someone who's not a hero birdman? crazy. dabi's gonna be ooc since idk how to write him

|| word count: 1.7k

|| Touya Todoroki, more commonly known as Dabi. In this small dabble/fic, the League of Villains were caught and detained. However, through the power of fanfiction, Dabi and the others were allowed to go through rehab (in the prison first), be let out in small time increments while being watched over by some hero or guard, and lastly they were put under a heroes care to make sure they don't.. Y'know, get worse. Dabi was put under, you guessed it, Endeavors care. And, lastly, if they so choosed, the former villains could become heroes, or at least sidekicks.

|| He absolutely hated it, what's worse was that he wasn't able to use his quirk for a year since he had a quirk anklet thing, he didn't know what it was called. Was he happy he wasn't in prison anymore? Yeah, of course. Did he act like it? Hell no. He hated Endeavor with a burning passion, and he stole his credit card more times than he can count with the help of Shoto and Natsuo. Fuyumi was against it, though.

|| He got to visit Rei as well, which was.. Nice enough. He didn't really care much for his mom. He did care, but.. It was weird, whatever, he doesn't care about anything. All he wants is to be able to use his quirk and be free of Endeavor. At least he could laze around the house most days, it was, obviously, nicer than the old League of Villains place.. At least he didn't have to scrap for food. He could have cold soba with Shoto everyday if he wanted.

|| Gah! Whatever. Plus it's not like he could go anywhere without people flinching away from him everytime they saw his face. I mean, it made sense. Notorious villain, ugly set of scars. Makes sense why people flinched away. He understood, honestly if someone didn't flinch from him, he'd think they were a psychopath. Who wouldn't be scared of a known villain who's murdered people??

|| But then there was.. You. Dabi had met you in front of a small cafe that is the only place Dabi didn't feel like he was hated, or cast aside. Again, people hating him was totally valid and he understood why they did, he just needed a break. But, I digress. When he first met you, you were sipping on your beverage of choice and, at least appeared, to be looking out the window. You seemed so... Soft as the light hit your face. But, Dabi being Dabi, he just ignored you every time he saw you. Well, acted like he ignored you, in reality he glanced over to you a few times.

|| This day was different, you left before he was going to leave and you knocked over your.. Cane? How did he never notice that before? You tried to find it, using the table as a crutch but it was too far. So what did Dabi do? Look confused for a moment as you struggled before scoffing and helping you out. Why he did? He didn't know, god maybe the rehab wasn't getting to his head.

|| "Think you dropped this," He lifted the cane and handed it over to your, very very VERY grateful self as you thanked him profusely. With that he left you alone as you used your cane/walking stick to help you leave the cafe. And that's your official meeting!

|| The next few days were pretty typical, however you did say hi to him at times after you found out his usual table. With much failed attempts. You never knew his name so you were just like "Hiya stranger!" or just a simple "Goodmorning" or something along those lines. He enjoyed it but never showed it, always grumbling a small "Hello" back. He hadn't told anyone about you, not his siblings, definitely not his dad or mom, definitely not the League they'd make fun of him, the only one who he'd be somewhat willing to say to is... Oh god, the damned bird.

|| Ever since rehab, him and Hawks had gotten on good terms, the only guy Dabi would begrudgingly call a friend outside of the League. They'd text.. Quite frequently, tbh, they'd trauma bond about their pasts so it was semi easy to talk to him. I digress, Dabi's mentioned you to Hawks once or twice. And he doesn't know how to talk more to you.. He doesn't know why he wants to talk to you.

|| "Sounds like you're just touch starved and want a friend?" Hawks stated, but sounded like more of a question as he snacked on some chips lazing about on his couch while Dabi was out on his balcony having a smoke. "Just say hi to them? Or sit at their table or something"

|| "Sitting at their table huh?" Dabi muttered that, actually taking that into consideration as he blew some smoke out of his mouth. The two of them stayed in silence for a few moments, the only noise was the tv, Keigo's crunching and Dabi blowing out more smoke. That was their friendship, and Dabi actually enjoyed it. Especially since he uh... Didn't have to betray him or whatever, ahem.

|| He left Keigo's place, giving his lighter back and saying bye to him. By now it was dark, like.. 11 pm? He'd like to say, he didn't know, his phone died a while ago. He kinda regretted not asking Keigo for his charger but whatever, it was a nice enough night to walk around, taking a small detour through the park. He could actually enjoy the city without having to worry about getting arrested or.. Hey.

|| He saw you on the park bench, just chilling there. You didn't have a phone out, not like you could stare at it. You just had your head tilted up to the sky. Damn, you looked so.. Peaceful. Dabi didn't wanna interrupt whatever the hell you were doing, but he could just... Talk to you. And he did. He sat on the bench beside you as you kept your head up to the sky.

|| "Hey, stranger," He muttered. You knew that voice! Your ears perked up the second you heard his voice and turned his direction, a small smile on your face as your gaze bore into his.

|| "Hey.. Uh.. Never caught your name, friend." You said, as you let out a small chuckle. The cold air around the two of you showed your small breath. Is this what peace felt like?? Is this what being a normal person felt like? Dabi didn't know, but he sure as hell isn't going to let it go. But.. What was he going to say for his name? Dabi? And let you know he was a villain and he'd never talk to you ever again? Or Touya? The name he so hated and renounced long ago.

|| ".. My name's Touya." He said quietly. He decided if he was going to befriend you, might as well not screw it up before he could even hear what your name was. He watched as you nodded, quirking your eyebrow up as you tapped your chin. What the hell were you thinking about that made you seem so.. Amused?

|| "You sure it isn't Dabi?" You asked with a small smile, a bit of mischief in your tone as Dabi froze. You knew?? Since when? For once in his life, he was speechless. No witty comeback, no insult to throw, nothing. He just sat there as you laughed in amusement.

|| Once you've finished your fit of giggles and chuckles you introduced yourself. Huh, now he knows your name. He repeated it quietly with a nod. He still didn't understand.. Why weren't you running in terror? Or insulting him for being a terrible person? Why did you just smile at him.. Like he did nothing wrong?

|| You admitted you asked the cafe owner who he was a few weeks back. Ever since the day he helped you with your cane, you were always.. At least interested in becoming friends! Sure, it freaked you out when you found out Dabi was a villain, but after learning he'd gone through rehab, you were more.. Relaxed? Afterall, he seemed nice.

|| You and Dabi- no, Touya, stayed on the bench for a long while, talking. For once! Learning about each other, and the more Touya learned abour you.. The more he wanted to let you into his life. Let you learn about his family, learn about his past.. Not be Touya, not be Dabi, but just.. Well, he didn't know. But, whatever.

|| Now! He offered to walk you home which you happily agreed, it was only a five minute walk though, you'd already memorized the way. He wondered why you only had a cane instead of a guide dog, you were saving up for one... Hmm..

|| He bid his goodbyes, promising to see you (haha) the next day and getting scolded by Fuyumi for being out late. After she learnwd WHY he was so late, oh she was ECSTATIC to find out Touya made a new friend!! Especially the one from the cafe! (He's told her about you before.)

|| Time skip to around a few weeks later, you and Touya had breakfast together at the cafe. You've met Fuyumu, Natsuo, and Shoto!! They were so nice! Shoto was really funny, really blunt! Fuyumi was so kind and soft spoken and Natsuo was entertaining! Much to Touya's dismay, you ended up close with all of his siblings. He wanted you for himself- wait what?

|| Ah, well, your friendship with Touya grew as the two of you kept hanging out. He'd talk about his home life, how he's going through rehab and that by the end of it he'd work as a hero. More of an underground one, but still a hero. And everytime he'd speak, you'd be there to listen.

|| When you would talk, oh you know that all of Touya's attention would be on you. Wether you knew it or not, he'd stare at you, all wide eyed as he listened to every word you said as if it were the law. He never did that with anyone else..

|| The two of you grew close as time went on, when he debuted as a "Rehabilitated Hero" (that wasn't his hero name), you were his first and number one fan! And don't think his family didn't notice! They had grown close to you, especially Fuyumi. She absolutely ADORED that you were Touya's friend (he.. didn't have much friends.).

|| Though, she could tell.. Your relationship was shifting. Touya was falling for you, and unbeknownst to anyone else, you were falling for him.

|| i had an idea and ran with it! idk how good this is, might make a second part but idk! js needed to cope from doing finals with this <//3

[yawujin]

Heyyy I havent seen you write any danganronpa stuff recently so if you fell out of interest its alr I was just wondering if you could please write danganronpa v3 boys x reader at the beach HEAVY on korekiyo haven't seen much fan stuff for him and it saddens me.

anyway pls&thx have a good day :)

hey anonnn, you're right i haven't written for dangan in a bit...thing is; i have a hard time writing for things i'm not currently hyperfixating on (bad trait to have i know) there are a ton of requests for dangan hcs/x reader in my inbox rn so i'll try to get more of those done ദ്ദി(˶‾᷄ᗜ‾᷅˵ ᵕ) hope you enjoy this in the meantime!!

request | v3 boys x reader 🏖 beach edition

type | headcanon format , reader insert , light hearted , you pronouns used

shuichi saihara ♡

easily gets sunburned so he prefers to stay under a beach umbrella most of the time

asks you for help with applying sunscreen all over his exposed skin

brought water bottles for everyone (my thoughtful kinggg <3)

lowkey would want to play volleyball w everyone else but think he'd be too awkward whilst playing

would most likely invite you to sit under an umbrella with him near the shore and listen to the sound of the waves with you

rantaro amami ♡

walks along the pier with you

buys you whatever you want at the concession stands there

"this beach is beautiful, you should see the ones i've traveled really far to see, too. they're amazing!" he exclaims

rantaro shows you a plethora of pictures he's taken of beaches all around the globe

would most likely collect a little bit of the sand from the beach just to keep a piece of it with him for memory's sake.

k1b0/kiibo ♡

he is awaaaaay from the water

he stands up on the rocks , looking out to the ocean (he would like to admire it without getting wet)

he's 100% a nerd so he gives you some fun facts about sharks , fish , etc

when you come back from swimming, he tells you how cool you looked

he totally wishes he could go and swim w you :(

korekiyo shinguji ♡

he enjoys the atmosphere , and your company ofc

you two walk on the pier talking about what to get for lunch

ngl it feels like a date when you are sitting across from kiyo, eating your food

"it's beautiful, isn't it?" he says, after a moment of quiet

"yeah! the beach is pretty nice." you reply

"i meant you, dear." he tells you

wink

kaito momota ♡

he's the one that set up the volleyball net

trying to encourage his sidekick to play volleyball with him

after getting rejected 5 times within a minute, he asks you

"i won't go easy on ya!"

kaito got a little too cocky for someone who kept on getting foul balls

gonta gokuhara ♡

quietly observing the hermit crabs on the beach

he marvels at the slugs crawling up the rocks

he's lowkey in bug heaven rn

you tell kokichi to stfu when he tells gonta that his hair looks similar to seaweed

"does gonta's hair really resemble seaweed?" he frowns

you comb your fingers through his hair and reassure him that his hair looks just fine :)

ryoma hoshi ♡

spends most of his time away from the crowd or in a shop on the pier

"beaches really aren't my type of scene"

you walk about a mile or two with him on the endless sands of the beach

you hadn't expected him to break the long silence until he said:

"glad you're here to keep me company."

he's pulling his beanie down to shade his eyes from the sun (and to hide his cute embarrassment)

kokichi ouma ♡

"let's both run into the water in three...two...one!"

except he stayed behind and let you do it all alone, much to your embarrassment (and annoyance)

he makes it up to you by buying you an ice cream

"awww don't be so mad! after we're done we can go swim together! promise!"

surprisingly, he keeps his promise and you two have a good time

you splash each other with ocean water playfully and engage in a small game of water tag

⋆ ˚｡⋆ my ao3

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for sakoku_decree behind the cut; “project sidekick”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“She’s his niece,” Superboy says while still trying not to grimace at the word “replace”, considering . . . literally everything about the past three months, yeah. “Uh–they’re both nieces. Miss Martian is Martian Manhunter’s and Artemis is–uh. Yeah.” 

“So we’re just letting in just anybody’s frickin’ nieces now?!” Kid Flash demands, waving his arms in the air and actually looking more upset about this than he did when Superboy walked into the room after fucking up pretty much his entire life in one night. “That’s all you gotta do to score a sidekick gig these days, you just gotta be a nepo baby?!” 

“That’s how you got one, isn’t–?” Superboy starts to ask skeptically, the question more reflex than anything else, but then Kid Flash stiffens and Robin and Aqualad both flick their eyes towards him at the exact same time and–right. That’s . . . not something he’s supposed to know anymore. 

Wasn’t ever something he was supposed to know, technically. 

“. . . dude,” Kid Flash says after a long moment, his face briefly flickering through multiple complicated-looking expressions like a super-speed slide show before settling on “insulted”. “A) no it is not, I did actual work for this, there was science and shit involved and I literally almost died, and b) what the hell, do you know who we actually are?” 

“Uh . . . mostly, yeah. Yours is the only one who didn’t tell us your name,” Superboy says, glancing at Robin. “But the other two, yeah. I mean–they didn’t know any better.” 

“Frick!” Kid Flash groans, covering his face with his hands and then groaning even louder into them. “That’s so–annoying! That’s super annoying! You swapped out Speedy for somebody’s niece and she knows my name!” 

“I mean–they asked him to join, he just didn’t want to. Artemis wasn’t even around ‘til later,” Superboy says, trying not to grimace again. Artemis is probably going to be annoyed that he didn’t try to figure out a way to maybe not give Kid Flash an immediate bad impression of her, considering he really should’ve remembered why–well, their Kid Flash got an immediate bad impression of her. “But–yeah, we all do.” 

“Frick!” Kid Flash says, throwing his hands up again and then glowering up at the ceiling. “Sure! Why not! This might as well happen!” 

“I mean not gonna lie, sorta proud of clone-me, he’s clearly got his priorities straight,” Robin muses, tapping his cheekbone thoughtfully–tapping it just against the edge of the mask, Superboy can’t help noticing. Like he might be checking it’s still there, again. “You guys, though, maybe you two need some better clones? Loose lips sink ships and all, bros.” 

“My name is a matter of public record, given I became Aqualad in direct service of my king,” Aqualad replies, looking a little wry. “I certainly do not make any secret of it. Nor would a sunken ship be a particular concern for my people, except perhaps as inconvenient litter.” 

“I really feel like you should all be a lot angrier about this,” Superboy says, which is probably a stupid thing to say, but he’s at least gotten pretty familiar with how anger feels. It’s a much safer thing to feel than most of the other things he’s felt, so–yeah, obviously he is. But so far only Kid Flash has even gotten upset, and even he mostly just looks irritated, not actually . . . 

Well. Angry. 

“In general, or at you?” Aqualad asks, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. 

Superboy really does not understand how that’s even a question, even after three months of knowing–“Kaldur”. 

[murphy-kitt]

Shock of a Lifetime

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Swearing

AO3

He’s always been a one for mystery and phenomena, that’s no lie. Chasing down the slightest hint of something off kilter, keen to dig down into the truth.

This? This is ridiculous. Absurd, stupid, every synonym he can think of.

Wes sits on the side of his bed, clinging to the bedsheets, praying that he won’t fall through onto the floorboards again. Luckily he hasn’t gone through the floor yet.

Maybe this is payback for discovering Fenton’s secret, he doesn’t know. Surely there’s a ghost out there currently relishing in the consequences of his actions.

Because he’s dead. Or, somewhat. The same thing as Fenton—but he’s never been sure what that is. Only that he’s Phantom and a pain to deal with.

Wes currently doesn’t have the tolerance to try and deal with the whole emotional baggage that death comes with. He just wants to go to school, get outside with his camera again, rewind.

A familiar tingling, and suddenly his left hand is gone.

“Great.” He yanks his hoodie sleeve down.

It’s not going away anytime soon.

Admittedly, it hadn’t been Wes’ smartest idea to enter a haunted house late at night. Even worse, to try and jumpstart the very clearly ecto-contaminated electrics.

Not his finest hour.

But he can’t exactly tell anyone either.

Hesitantly, Wes stands up and enters into the hallway, vigilant of any sudden change to his body. Thankfully, his arm returns to the visible plane.

“Wes, breakfast!” His dad’s voice echoes from down the stairs.

He manages to make it down the stairs, albeit slowly.

“You look pale.” His dad says when Wes enters the kitchen, midway through splattering jam on some anaemic-looking broad, “Anything wrong?”

Yeah, I’m fucking dead.

“I dunno.” Wes mumbles, shrugging as he slinks into a chair. And it’s not even far from the truth. “Just don’t feel good.”

“Too many nightly expeditions?” His dad chuckles, pushing the plate of toast towards him. “I know you break curfew a lot.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, because what else can he say? At least his Dad isn’t grounding him. More opportunity for him to supervise his every move.

“As long as you don’t get yourself into trouble or injured, I suppose a bit of exploring can’t hurt you.”

Wes takes a bite of the toast, wincing at the sour taste of ectoplasm on his tongue. Ever since his incident his taste hasn’t been the same. Wes hope it’s just a temporary side effect.

“Yeah. I might go out tonight.” He lies. Truthfully, he can’t stomach the thought of going sleuthing right now. Too soon. But it’ll give him some time out of the house.

-

When Wes walks down the corridor to his locker, it feels like all eyes are on him. Or maybe it’s the fact that every bone in his body is rigid stiff, his chest pounding unevenly, a constant humming in his ears and sour bile on his tongue.

Is this what Fenton feels like? Constantly worrying about every single slip up, that one wrong move will cause everything to falter?

Approaching his locker, Wes notes the A Listers rounding the corner, Fenton and his two sidekicks waiting outside a classroom door.

“You’re toast.” He mouths to Fenton, who narrows his eyes. Better to keep up the charade than nothing at all.

Wes goes to unravel the combination on the lock, but his hand slides right through.

Crap. He bites his tongue, pulling his hand back like it’s been burned. A quick glance around. The A Listers are gone, But Fenton’s still stood by the door, blue-green eyes narrowed. No sign of Manson or Foley.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” Fenton leverages back, pushing open the class door. “But you’re gonna be late if you keep messing about.”

“Since when have you cared about truancy?” Wes snaps, straightening up. There’s no point in trying to get his books now, not when Fenton’s on him like a hawk. He’s about to add ‘since you’re always ghost fighting’ but holds his tongue.

“Since when are you so clumsy?”

Wes stiffens, silent. How can he even respond to that?

“I’m not.” He retorts sharply, shoving past Fenton towards his chair.

Science, as usual, is a bore, with Mr Falluca copying equations on the board that Wes isn’t even sure is part of the curriculum. But he’s still stuck tense, rigid. Waiting for something to go wrong.

He remembers them months ago when Fenton had been berated for constantly dropping beakers and eventually banned from lab equipment. That’s the last thing Wes needs now, and would certainly arouse more suspicion from Fenton.

Then, the lights flicker. The thing in his chest hums louder, more intense. He clenches his fists, hairs on the back of his neck prick up. Wes isn’t exactly sure what it is yet, some equivalent of a ghostly heart?

The lights flicker again, dimming and brightening in intensity. Students start to chatter, pointing and looking up at the ceiling.

“Class—“ Fallucca tries, drowned out by noise.

But Wes isn’t thinking of that. He stares at his notes, all a blur of pointless knowledge. The thing is cold, thrumming in his chest, unwavering and uncertain. He can feel the pressure building like lightning bolts in his veins.

The lights are so bright, they’re blinding.

Then a pop. Glass shards rain down, sparkling diamonds scattered across the linoleum. Confused screeches and shouts of his class, Fallucca trying to herd them out to the hallway.

“It’s a ghost!”

“Dude! The lights just exploded!”

“Someone get Phantom!”

Wes doesn’t listen to any of it. Heart pounding in his ears, the constant thrumming in his chest, he sprints away without thinking. The nearest door is the boys bathroom, and he shoves the door open without a second thought.

It’s dark, the lights in here are also dead. But there’s no glass on the floor, at least.

Panting, Wes approaches the mirror, trying to calm himself. That was him. The ghost heart—thing. All that power.

What if he’d hurt someone?

He can’t—none of this makes sense. He should be dead, after the haunted house, after the electricity had fried his veins and boiled his blood and agonised him. But he’s not.

His heart still beats, he’s got a human appearance. No ghost form, or perhaps not yet, but invisibility and intangibility. And now electricity too.

The electricity is the only thing that makes sense—electric based death—electric based powers?

But yet, Wes still has no clue of what he is. In the mirror, his appearance is the same. A bit paler, but the ginger messy hair and freckles nonetheless.

Back when he’d hunted Fenton (and Wes isn’t sure if he’ll still do that), Wes hadn’t cared to define him in any specific terms. What only mattered was Fenton was Phantom and people refused to believe him.

Would be helpful to know what the hell Fenton is. Wes thinks, prodding at his chest. The thrumming isn’t as strong anymore, thankfully. But there’s still bustling and chatter outside, disturbed by the events.

I did that. Wes’ stomach unsettles, queasy. It could’ve been worse, yet, there’s all this power, waiting. Uncontrolled.

“So, what was that for?” An echoey voice behind him. Wes shoots up instantly.

There in the reflection, glowers Fenton, hovering slightly off the ground, arms crossed with a satisfied smirk upon his face. Green eyes narrowed.

“Piss off, Fenton.”

“Oh come on. Something’s clearly wrong. I mean, what happened to shouting about me being Phantom?” The ghost edges closer, and Wes turns around.

“Why are you so bothered?” He retorts, “As you say. I’m always going after you.”

“Oh come on. Something’s clearly wrong. I mean, what happened to shouting about me being Phantom?” The ghost edges closer, and Wes turns around.

“Why are you so bothered?” He retorts, “As you say. I’m always going after you.”

“Because you’re not usually like this, that’s why. You’ve been off for a week and now when you come back you don’t even start ranting about my supposed identity!”

“So supposed, Fenton.” Wes rolls his eyes, deflecting. Was he really that excessive about proclaiming Phantom’s true identity?

“Come on, Wes.” The ghost drops to the floor like a lead weight, tone softer. “I know you hate me for being a liar, or whatever, but I wanna help.

Wes considers. Fenton does look sincere, somehow his ectoplasm-green eyes managing to show a hint of concern.

But what if he does? Will Fenton flip it around and claim the same about Wes, exposing his new abilities when he’s barely got a grip on them? And, yeah, he supposes it would be hypocritical and such. To shout Fenton’s identity from the rooftops yet keep his own schtum.

Consequences of being reckless and thoughtless. Brilliant.

“Fine.” Wes looks to the floor, the white tile cracked and dirty, “I was in this haunted house. Y'know the one out of Elmerton?”

“Yeah. The one where a family haunts it? Blue and it’s got lots of trees outside?” Fenton asks.

“Mhm.” He kicks a tile with his shoe, the visions playing like a tape in his head. “I’d seen it on these forums about abandoned places. Thought it looked interesting, so I got my camera and decided to go last Friday after school. There was a window on the side open, so I went through there.”

“When you were in there you found the ghosts?” Fenton scans him up and down, as if scanning for injuries.

“No. There was no one.” He can still remember the eerie silence, only his heart thumping. “I was about to pack it in but I saw a green glow from this cupboard, thought I might as well do something productive.”

“And?”

“I—it was a fuse box. Or had been.”

“Oh.” He didn’t think it possible, but Fenton goes a few shades paler.

“Um—I. Yeah.” There needs no explanation, really, and Wes is silently grateful that Fenton doesn’t ask more. Maybe his experience was similar, he doesn’t know.

“Me too.” Fenton says, “It was electricity too. My parents' portal.”

“Damn.” Wes swallows down a gulp. Two weeks ago he was hunting Fenton down, now they’re discussing death similarities. What’s next? Comparing powers and singing kumbaya?

The bathroom lights flitter again.

“Stop that!” Fenton hisses, hands on his hips.

“I’m not doing anything!” Wes protests, crossing his arms. His chest feels tight, pressurised again.

“It is! Clearly the lights are reacting to your core’s temperament?”

“My what?” The heck is a core?

“It’s the new thing in your chest. The key part of a ghost’s being—like a heart, essentially.” Fenton clarifies.

“At least there’s a word for it.” Wes sighs, turning to the sink and splashes water on his face.

A core. He’s got a core, despite being human.

“And what are we, then?”

“It’s called being a halfa. Half-human, half-ghost.” Fenton says casually, as if it’s not a piece of earth shattering news.

What the fuck. Half-dead. Like the cat in a box

“Well that’s just brilliant.” Wes drawls, wiping his hands on his shorts before walking out the bathroom, ignoring Fenton all the while.

Now back to pretending everything hasn’t changed.

-

When Wes goes into school the next day, people are staring. Lots. He’s sure it’s not a figment of paranoia as people gawp and even stumble when they catch sight of him.

That’s him!

This whole time?

I suppose it makes sense, doesn’t it?

Wes doesn’t have a clue what exactly makes sense, but there’s a sneaking suspicion it’s probably to do with the core in his chest.

First period is English, something he really can’t be bothered to deal with. As expected, everyone is staring. Even Fenton, who looks a little sheepish.

“Wesley.” Lancer begins as Wes slumps to his desk. Another late mark, great.

“Given your…circumstances that I’ve recently been informed of, you are free to leave when needed.” The teacher says, taking him by surprise.

What circumstances? Certainly his powers are new, but only Fenton knows about those…or.

Did he get payback?

Wes swivels to face Fenton who looks caught out, shaking his head rapidly. Danny’s got every right to spill, yet there’s a genuity to his expression that unnerves him, that Danny is just as baffled.

It’s then he realises Lancer is looking at him.

“Oh.” Wes coughs. “Thanks for the…lenience.”

They’re allocated group work. Because of course.

And then the entire classroom erupts, practically diving towards him except Fenton and Gray. Talking so fast that Wes can barely understand anything.

“Hey Phantom! Why’d you claim that Fenton was you the entire time?” Dash practically shouts in his face.

“I can’t believe Weston is the ghost boy.” Paulina looks far from happy, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“What.”

He doesn’t even know how they’ve managed to jump to this chasm of a conclusion. Either Fenton told them about his powers..or...what? He’s not got a clue.

“How? Uh..how’d you find me out?” Wes coughs into his sleeve.

“Yesterday, of course!” Dash insists, “Fallucca’s class and the lights went all creepy. You disappeared and then Phantom showed up.”

“You have to be Phantom because you disappeared when he was here.” Paulina adds on.

As if that’s not the exact same thing he’s been saying about Fenton for months. How fucking dense can the people in Caspar High be?

“And, dude, you look a lot like him.” Kwan chimes in.

“Right yeah. That’s…certainly something.” He folds his arms, not sure what else to respond. They all stare intently, as if by some chance they’ll see any indication of Phantom, the green eyes, the confidence.

“What about Fenton then?” Wes asks breezily, not missing the way a person a few chairs down drops their pen (definitely Fenton).

“You used him as a cover, of course. Dunno why you picked him though, of course no one would ever believe that wimp was a ghost!”

“Sure did.” He nods, because none of this makes any fucking sense. So his class have decided that he’s Phantom based on the sole fact that Wes wasn’t present when Phantom was, that he’s using Fenton as a cover. Despite a full detailed analysis of Fenton and Phantom, no one dared believe him.

“Go on then, show us something!” Dash insists, eager. Forgetting that Wes isn’t the former basketball star he shoved around just last week.

“Why should I?” Wes retorts, eyes narrowed.

He thinks of all the times he’s followed Fenton, the photos and the notes. Corkboard with red tape, everything. He’s nearly lucky it’s come to this. How close could it have been for someone to actually take Wes’ words and believe them?

Because now that Wes is like this, a halfa. He certainly doesn’t want anyone gawping at him, invading every single type of space surrounding him. He doesn’t want a mishap of powers, being vulnerable in front of people.

Let alone the stream of ghost hunters and government agencies.

God, he hadn’t even thought of that. The Fenton’s hunting their own son. Wanting to destroy him molecule by molecule.

“Why should I show you something? Phantom has a damned good reason to hate me, and yet he still helped me”

"Why is he talking about himself in the third person?” A small voice mutters.

“You think everything would change just because I’m the ghost boy? That I’m instantly going to warm up to you and should comply with everything you say?” Wes can feel his core beginning to thrum again. “You threw me to the floor two weeks ago, Baxter.”

“Meh. Forgive and forget.” Dash waves a hand.

“I don’t think so.” Wes twists to see Fenton, head tilted and eyes narrowed. “I’m not him, although I doubt you’ll listen. But he could be anyone in this class or school.”

Wes remembers the corkboard again. His recordings. Swears when he gets home he’ll burn them, everything gone. Start again.

“ I dunno about you, but maybe think before you act, yeah? I know I should’ve.”

Multiple times. Fenton. His own death.

In a way, his half-death? A chance to start again.

A/N: My first phic of the phight in 2025! It’s good to be back since I missed out on 2024. And ofc the first fic is a Wes one.

Prompt: Wes has become half ghost, and everyone assumes he was Phantom the entire time.

Word Count: 2688

[silverwhittlingknife]

the reason why nu52 Dick is so simultaneously messy and yet boring is because they don't let him be bitchy enough whilst simultaneously making him a little bitch

sdfsdfdsfs I don't totally understand what this means and yet I feel like I agree with the spirit, anon <3

Outsiders 21 - preboot Dick yelling at Bruce my beloved

Yeah, caveat that there's plenty of nu52 Dick stuff that I haven't read and I don't think it's all bad, but also... man, he is not for me. As far I'm concerned, the main good thing that came out of n52/Rebirth is some setups for sad!Dick fanfic. And yeah, "Dick is not bitchy enough" is actually a pretty good summary of my complaints sdfdsfs

The thing is, nu52 Dick has some similarities to preboot Tim, in that he'll sometimes be insincerely fake-cheerful even when actually upset, plus he periodically seems uncomfortable with direct confrontation so instead he lies to avoid confrontation. And mmm I mean, I like these qualities in preboot Tim, so it's not like I think these are terrible traits to have!!

BUT :

1) Preboot Tim has no authority. But preboot Dick does, and it's frustrating to take it away from him in nu52.

There's some post-2011 panel where Dick lies to Batman and is cheery about it, a la Tim bragging to his friends about lying to Batman in Teen Titans, and I had to stare at it for ages trying to figure out why it felt like such a record scratch moment to me.

But it's because there is a huge difference between a presumably independent superhero lying to another superhero vs. a sidekick and his sidekick friends secretly joyriding in Batman's car.

Like, Tim lies to authority figures more-or-less constantly, because he doesn't want to be told what to do, but also because - importantly!! - those authority figures reasonably assume they have authority over him that he has to evade. Of course he tries to avoid direct confrontation with the JLA / Batman / Red Tornado / Starfire - they're not his equals and a direct confrontation would end badly!

Whereas Nightwing lying to Batman feels like putting him in a subordinate position in a way that preboot Dick never is. Preboot Dick always tells Batman off to his face, because preboot Dick cares about being equals and refuses to accept being subordinate. He doesn't sneak around behind Bruce's back - he fights back! If he doesn't agree with Bruce's position, he tries to argue Bruce into his own. He'll do stuff without asking Bruce's permission, but he won't conceal it; he'll make a point of making sure Bruce knows what he did and also that he isn't sorry.

2) Preboot Tim's lying / tendency to be fake with people is a consistent personality trait that's also consistently problematized. nu52 Dick's characterization is wildly all over the map.

In preboot, Tim is a liar and obsessive compartmentalizer, which is both a strength (disguises, sneaking around authority) and a problem (loved ones who are hurt by it). He's self-aware about his lies, periodically resolves to lie less, and generally fails at it.

Tim's consistent enough that you can track this character trait in all his relationships: he lies to his dad. He lies to Batman. He lies to his girlfriends. He refuses to tell Babs his real name for ages for basically no reason. He stalks Dick and then tries to run away from him in his origin story and then tries to avoid telling Dick his name. And this evasiveness consistently causes him problems!! Dick's suspicious of him. Ariana's suspicious of him. His dad is suspicious of him. Young Justice and Steph get annoyed with his secret-keeping. Young Justice want him to take off the mask. Steph wants to know his real name. When she finds out and calls him by his real name, he has a panic attack and literally runs away. When upset, he insists he's fine and fake-smiles at people. In Teen Titans, when Tim's busy being fake-cheerful and Conner is startled to see him there right after his dad died, Tim gets upset and angry at Conner and demands that he not tell anyone about Jack. Fine, Conner says, I guess it's another secret. In AC 3, he's lying to Conner again and Conner accuses him of having an insincere "Starfire voice," which is a hilarious callback to Tim being fake-agreeable-yet-secretly-bitchy at Kory when he first meets her. I feel like I get that the lying is a Tim Character Trait which is sometimes endearing and sometimes less so and which all the people who love him are gonna have different feelings about.

By contrast, nu52 Dick spends a ton of time lying but it's hard for me to model his characterization in the same way? He's sometimes fake and ... sometimes that's totally cool and sometimes people punch him! also, does it say something about him? ehhhhh maybe? no? who can say!! At the end of nu52 Nightwing, he doesn't want to go undercover and Bruce beats him up, but then in Grayson he seems totally on board with his mission and willing to actively lie to everyone, and then in Batman and Robin Eternal he carries out a whole secret mission behind nuTim's back because he thinks nuTim is maybe a spy and is scared (?) of confronting him directly, but also he's so sloppy about it that he gets followed and the bad guys find nuTim's parents. Oopsie! He represents The Heart and is super-caring but also somewhat ditzy with a tendency to leap before he looks, and also he's very very very goodlooking and Grayson would really like you to know that.

You can try to make sense of this character's internal motivations and I have read various enjoyable fanfics that do, but in the comics I don't feel like he's clearly characterized.

3) Dick should be a convincing team leader

I know I kind of talked about this earlier but it bothers me SO MUCH that I have to talk about it again dsfdsfds

Preboot Dick is a natural leader: he seizes control of the feuding personalities in the Fab Five; he does the same thing in the NTT; he stands up to Bruce. He can overrule strong personalities like Pantha and Roy; he can hold his ground against the Outsiders. He doesn't back down and he doesn't quit. He's got instinctive authority, and he's a forceful and aggressive enough leader that he can lead teams even when his teammates are feuding or difficult or arguing with each other. Sometimes he's a little too forceful and it backfires on him, but for the most part, it works!

By contrast, nu52 Dick often comes off as kinda... hapless? He's definitely not a force to be reckoned with.

Like, just to take one small example, in post-Crisis's Red Robin 14, Tim and Damian are fighting and Dick wants them to cut it out, so he throws a batarang at Tim's staff and snaps at him, and the fight stops immediately. By contrast, in nu52's Batman and Robin 10, Tim and Damian are arguing and Dick wants them to cut it out, but nuDick is incapable of confronting anyone over anything so he just sighs about it, passive-aggressive and ineffectual.

And "ineffectual" is too often the vibe I get from n52 Dick in general. You put that man with Pantha, and he'll probably be bemused, but he won't be able to make Pantha do anything, and he wouldn't be able to make Danny Chase do anything, and he can't or won't stand up to Bruce so he has to lie the way Tim does, and he would never have a fistfight with Roy over the proper way to lead a team.

And in a lot of ways this makes sense, because n52 Dick isn't a team leader, because they've deleted the Titans. He's just a guy. He's nice, I guess.

But even though he gets all kinds of excellent woobie plotlines that I'd normally enjoy (an evil organization is stalking him personally! his dad is beating him up and forcing him into becoming a spy! he's losing his memory!) his personality is usually so far off from the character I like that I struggle to get invested.

Because the thing is, Dick's leadership instincts aren't incidental to what I like about him. They're all wrapped up in his outsized sense of personal responsibility and instinctive belief that if anything is going wrong anywhere near him then it is his obligation to handle it and if anything goes wrong then it's his fault if he was involved and also his fault if he wasn't involved and actually if you have ever gotten within five feet of him and unrelatedly something bad happened to you then it's probably his fault and he FAILED. This belief gives Dick a lot of control issues and makes him bitchy sometimes and is not great for his mental health, but it's also very endearing and an outgrowth of how much Dick cares!

Anyway, re:bitchiness, I have similar feelings about various choices in Batgirls and in Tim Drake: Robin and in current Nightwing; like, I don't think any of these stories are bad ipso facto, I don't begrudge anyone who likes them, and I certainly enjoy fluffy fanfic sometimes - I don't always want the same things in transformative fandom that I want in canon.

But in comics, I often want the characters to have a bit of edge, to be cranky and difficult and just... y'know, clearly the kind of people who would choose to be vigilantes. I want them to care enough to be bitchy about it. And I often feel like I'm missing that, post-2011.

[vecnuthy]

🪱🧠 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

Tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation sending luscious dirt vibes your way to feed the babies 🖤🖤 I've had this brain worm wriggling around in my head for a while, but it requires spice and I really feel that I just cannot do spice, but, regardless, here's my nsfw maybe au brainworm that I have definitely already kind of written the beginning of:

Steve finds a handwritten note in the adult only section of Family Video that prompts him to choose a number between one and twelve, saying that it would be fun (wink wink). Steve eventually caves because he's bored and curious and writes a number down, then gets a tape a week later saying something along the lines of "Your choice awaits." Later that night, he finds out that it's basically the 80s version of a camboy video, and the guy in it loooves the sound of his own voice, and, looky there, Steve does too. A lot. He likes the way the guy (Eddie, obvious to us) touches himself even more, and by the end of the video, Steve is shaking and sweaty and in the sweetest pain bc the guy on the video said he couldn't touch himself, only watch.

And Steve does what he's told.

Or at least he does this time, because he's just so engrossed in what this tattooed guy with the slightly gravelly voice is doing, and he hates that he can't see his face, and he's just kind of frozen until the guy on the screen sets him free, but then he succumbs far too quickly.

It's the first of a few tapes that appear.

There are more notes asking for Steve's thoughts and for more numbers, and Steve's frustrated as all hell because he's jerking off too damn much, and he's trying to do one night stands that just aren't cutting it because those girls are just not this guy, and the guys are just not this guy, and his hand isn't satisfying, because he just wants that guy's hands on him, his voice in his ear, muttering the nastiest things that he can't even fathom, that make him blush shades of red that he can feel all over his body through to his bones, that drip like hot honey down his spine and make his fingers tingle and his chest squeeze and stomach swoop so wildly that he want to scream.

But yeah, it's bound to be a multichapter thing or a longggg oneshot kind of thing, which is intimidating, so who knows if it'll happen, but. Brainworms.

Tagging @steddieas-shegoes @sidekick-hero @cuips-not-cute @corrodedbisexual @thefreakandthehair @griefabyss69 bc I feel like y'all have brainworms 😌🫶

[thefreakandthehair]

A Steddie fanfiction written for the @steddiebang with art by @sungods-healingg and @oriarts. 55k. Rated E.

Chapter One coming soon to ao3 on November 25, 2023! Sneak peek included below!

“Give it, hey! Give me the check,” Eddie argues, trying to pry it from Steve’s hands. “I’m not letting you pay, c’mon.” 

“I—” Steve starts grappling and tries to maintain some degree of subtly in the still bustling diner. “I’m paying, give it.” 

“Not a chance, I don’t want stories going around that I’m some kept boyfriend who uses Steve Harrington for his money.” Eddie’s lips purse and his eyes narrow. “Hand it over.”

With a final tug, Eddie celebrates internally as he yanks the envelope from Steve. He realizes belatedly that he only won that battle because Steve freezes. It takes a few seconds, maybe a moment as he slips his credit card into the little pocket and flags down their waitress again, to figure out why. 

Boyfriend. 

Presumptuous at best and enough to scare Steve off at worst. The silence is hard to read so Eddie simply hands over the check and stares with wide eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Or-- you know, just, someone who uses Steve Harrington for his money. Big baseball contract and all that?” He tries to brush it off and deflect with humor, something that usually works well enough but apparently, not on Steve. 

“You said boyfriend.” He says simply, ignoring Eddie’s attempts entirely. 

Suddenly, Eddie regrets that sweet dessert for dinner because his stomach is tumbling in a dangerous way. He rubs the back of his neck and pulls at a strand of loose hair.

“I uh, yeah, I guess I did. Do you… have thoughts? On that?” 

Steve blinks at him, three times in quick succession, before the right corner of his mouth quirks up. “I do, actually. But I think I’d rather show you and I’d probably lose that big baseball contract if I did that here.” 

“Oh?” Eddie teases, pausing to grab the check back from the waitress to sign and slide his credit card back into it wallet. When she’s far enough away that Eddie’s sure she won’t hear, he reminds Steve of their location. “My apartment’s just like, two blocks over. If uh, if you’d like to show me in a more private spot?” 

The first time Eddie massaged Steve, he felt called back to the dangerous adrenaline rushes of his youth, all impulsivity and carelessness, and he feels it again as he invites Steve back to his apartment. Or maybe, it never even left. Maybe it’s just been slowly eroding his resolve for the past two months.

Whatever the case, his body trembles when Steve says Yes. 

tagging people who've asked, expressed interest to me or in tags, etc. and some pals: @hbyrde36 @steddieasitgoes @sidekick-hero @dryptid @sharpbutsoft @cuoredimuschio @kkpwnall @starryeyedjanai @scarcrossdlvrs @marvel-ous-m @pearynice @judasofsuburbia @corrodedbisexual @shares-a-vest @hellion-child @pumpkinspicestevie @delta-piscium @perseus-notjackson @thisapplepielife @withacapitalp @nostalgicbones @hereforanepilogue @stevethehairington @nostalgicbones @t-boyeddie @theheadlessphilosopher @stobinesque @imfinereallyy @hexiewrites @maxineholtzmann @starrystevie @steddieas-shegoes @daysarestranger @goodolefashionedloverboi