#working on the chapter rn!!

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

hi!!! I was just thinking of your amazing trash drake fic, and I was wondering if you had any headcanons for Tim’s “trash” identity?

Just little or big things that separate him from Tim, like mannerisms or how he acts?

AHHH YES- SO MANY HOLY FUCK- Okay okay SO-

Body language wise-

Tim closes his eyes when he laughs, Timothy doesn't

Tim grabs at his hair when stressed, Timothy grabs at his clothes

Tim maybe accepts affection but rarely asks for it, Timothy is a hugger or pat on the shoulder kinda guy (handshakes/hand kiss at the very least are a MUST)

Tim smacks his lips, Timothy sneers

Tim is always at least a little slouched, Timothy has perfect posture

Tim smirks, Timothy shows all his teeth

Tim goes for a fist bump, Timothy prefers high five

Preferences-

Timothy wears gold, Tim prefers silver

Timothy is always wearing jewelry, Tim hates anything more than some earrings.

Timothy adores opera, Tim is a basic fan- but prefers photography

Timothy likes layers and buttons, Tim prefers loose and slip on

Timothy loves Sushi, Tim cant stand anything that isn't a california roll

Timothy prefers his coffee sweet, Tim prefers it just creamy

Skills-

Timothy knows Spanish, Arabic, and French, Tim knows WAYYY more- (including League dilect Arabic and Romani)

Timothy is a child prodigy in tech who graduated early then burned out, Tim is a literal genius and tech mastermind hasn't hit burnout yet tho

Timothy is amazing at chess, Tim fucking hates it but learned out of spite/nessesity

Timothy is charming and a good flirt, Tim has zero rizz for anyone that isn't "morosexual" (he's smart and a dumbass)

Timothy is pretty athletic, Tim has the kind of endurance that is so outrageously good its concerning (he is a persistance predator)

Timothys thumb is double jointed, Tim can fold himself in half

Timothy is useless in the kitchen, Tim can make basics by himself

Timothy doesn't know the first thing about mending?? Tim hand made his entire costume and has re-sewn half his wardrobe at least once

I made up half of these on the spot- but this is the general headcanon distinctions I have between them <33

[bamsara]

Bit of a extreme situation happening to family friend right now, dude doesnt have a tumblr so I'll be making a GoFundMe post on his behalf In a few hours

[wasyago]

the brainrot won

[beausprouts]

Drew my stupid wife on a sticky note while at work bc green

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Diana helps mediate. Stinky Dad and the Alien Guy observe.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“His control over his emotions slipped during the interview,” J’onn sighs, hovering alongside Bruce as they carry down the hall.

Bruce grunts. He isn’t quite capable of complicated speech yet. The teenage alien crying, too scared to let even the internationally-favorite, universally beloved Wonder Woman hold him without screaming…a person he already knew would take care of him…

J’onn continues, nevertheless. The thin privacy of his mind aside, Bruce has always appreciated the Martian’s understanding of Bruce’s oft-shifting moods. “His memories of his home and his family were tied up with extensive pain. I would continue under the assumption that his human family turned on him after discovering his nature—there may have even been collateral damage to others around them at the time.”

Bruce breathes in. Bruce breathes out.

“He thought himself akin enough to humans to be betrayed when he was seen as an 'other'. He knows that he is far from home, he knows that he has been targeted for his non-human traits and abilities, and he has reasons to think that he may not return again—what they are, I could not tell, but the sentiment was clear. This escape was purposeful, as was commandeering the vehicle he used to do so. He is alone. He is scared.”

“Known or unknown threat?” Bruce growls, not quite up to elongating his bite into a full sentence. J’onn is more than skilled enough to skim lightly over the words, and match them to Batman’s pointed fury.

“Our patient is familiar with the threat. I could not recognize the insignia or acronym from his memories, but they had enough resources to keep him captive and alive—without food or water. Likely, for a lengthy amount of time.”

Bruce’s near-running stride slows to a stop. J’onn, ever-patient, floats to a standstill beside him.

“No food,” Bruce confirms, just to make sure he heard correctly.

J’onn nods.

“No water.”

“There was an alternative method used to keep him alive, although the details weren’t significant to him in his flashback. The method may have been possible due to his minor healing ability, or something unique to his species.”

No food, Bruce thinks. No water. Kept alive as a function. Worried that he’s meant to be used as a weapon, kept in isolation, afraid of what humans in uniform might require of him for help.

This isn’t just torture. It is, specifically targeting a half-human entity, entirely purposeful dehumanization.

Of a child.

Of a child.

Bruce inhales. Bruce exhales.

This is not something that will be solved short-term. He has to keep an eye on the long-term goals for this teen—safety, recovery, reassurance, and reintegration.

Doable. All he has to do is break larger goals down into reasonable steps.

“Update the pediatric psychiatrist that Dr. Martin referred him to on the details.” Bruce’s demand comes out as flat as it gets. It is hard, when he’s stressed, to make his words hit with any intonation. Everything he forces out is precise. To the point.

J’onn nods. “I will.”

“This is personal medical information, to be accessed only on a need to know basis.”  

J’onn floats slightly higher, something relaxed in his face. This is a significant gesture, meant to remind everyone involved that this is a child, not a resource, and not a mission to be solved. This is a patient. “Understood.”

“If you pass this on to Diana, do it in person. Minimizing documentation…” Bruce falters. There isn’t a strong, authoritarian way to phrase how he feels about being someone to store clinically cold information about a boy who had likely been imprisoned, if not actively experimented on, if not actively tortured. How he needed to minimize behaviors that would exactly model what was done to the boy by his captors.

A smile flickers over J’onn’s expression. It’s suitably fleeting, but it comes and it goes—and it’s extremely polite of him to emote so visibly for Bruce’s sake. He makes sure to project his appreciation as best he knows how—blindly, without a telepathic sense to know what J’onn will and will not see.

“Understood, Batman.”

Bruce grunts.

They split at the end of the hallway, each dedicated to their own tasks.

J’onn will inform the medical team of what triggers may affect their patient’s long-term recovery and the quality of their stay. He is a thorough and patient coworker, and Bruce is grateful to have him on his side.

Bruce, in the meantime, has a favor to ask of Alfred and Dick on their way back into Gotham; more importantly, this is a favor he has to ask of Alfred’s employment-provided Costco card.

*

There’s something new in Danny’s room.

He transfers himself into the wheelchair to look at it, scrambling down the bed the way the physical therapist taught him to—the new thing isn't at bed height, but it is pretty low, and it has a door that he could probably reach from seated height or standing.

The square thing’s door swings open.

Inside are…little water bottles. Canned juices. Those mushy fruit-filled bars, and something so obviously wrapped in a yellow Fig Einstein wrapper that even the gibberish non-English is super clear.

There’s a bunch of things. Just. So many; and all in a few different types, too. The whole thing is filled with so many choices.

…Huh.

There are disposable straws in the door. Danny has to borrow a nurse’s ID card to open the can tab in the end, and his unwrapping of a straw is more than a little shaky, but Danny takes his medication with a mango-pineapple juice blend instead of his usual cup of water, and he’s perfectly fine with that.

[morphestic]

Only in the bsd fandom will you see people shipping Jesus Christ with Fyodor Dostoevsky.

[charlotte-family-apologist]

My sketchbook only has the most serious art pieces

[broken-risk-assessment-module]

rip secunit 3 😔😔😔 you're not dead but you would have loved saving the lives of a whole colony of innocent humans by making a factually honest and emotionally compelling documentary 😔😔😔

[erinwantstowrite]

having so much art to share but having to wait for at least chapter 16 for some of it.... the world truly is evil (i'm impatient)

[gnatryan]

taking a break from art fight to draw these losers

[wasabi-gumdrop]

working on some character designs for neon glory 🤭

[saintobio]

hello am still alive but the corporate hustle is sucking the life out of me. i’m sorry sy11 is taking awhile but i’ll try to find time whenever i can 🥹

[b1gwings]

god, i love this little fucking weirdo

[g-l-owstick]

he would love Cece and her fugly hats

[fishareglorious]

hey what if the wound from that one time isolde bit kakania scars over. every time she removes her gloves and looks at that hand she's reminded of isolde and all the feelings that entail that

[bamsara]

Hey, do you will ever continue Solar Lunacy?

I have answered this already, yep. I've added the tag 'slow updates' to the fic tags if it helps.