#you dicks

[bats-and-the-birds]

Situation where Clark has formed a tentative working relationship with Batman, but somewhere in that time, Batman acquired Robin and, naturally, didn't tell him.

Clark finds out about Robin's existence when a ten year old Dick Grayson in full Robin gear breaks into his apartment at two in the morning and shakes him awake because Batman's missing and Alfred's away and Bruce taught him that, in the case of emergency, Superman was one of the only people he could trust. Bruce just didn't think to tell Clark that he was, by all means, his son's emergency contact.

Clark: -wakes up to a small boy that he's never seen or heard of before in a cape and a mask with lenses that reflect light like a cat's perched on the edge of his bed in a pitch black room-

Dick, calmly: Hey, Batman's -- stop screaming -- Batman's missing. I need help.

[dragonpyre]

Au where Jason is under the impression Talia told Bruce Jason was alive and just moves back to Gotham to get back to the life he missed. GED, college, part time job, etc. Runs into one of the bats at a coffee shop one day and is confused why they just fainted

[gothamitee]

What will you be tonight? That’s the question

[allineedisonedream]

Could I request mermaid dick and princess Kory

YES, yes you can!

And they all lived happily ever after...♡

until Bruce tried to ruin everything

...he just misses his son 🥲

[prlssprfctn]

Batsiblings convince Jason to get himself a cooking Tiktok account, and he gives in. To his surprise, he quickly gains millions of followers and a loyal auditory. The only problem? Jason has no idea that these people came here not necessary for recipes.

Jason: Geez, my followers had been pissing me off lately.

Dick, confused: Huh? Why?

Jason: They keep commenting ATE. Like, dude? Fucking where? I am not eating in my cooking videos. What is the fucking point?

Tim, choking: Oh my fucking God-

Jason, making an angry text post for his followers: YOU ALL. STOP COMMENTING "RAW". MY MEAT IS NOT RAW. I AM A PROPER COOK. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???

Cassandra: Maybe it is time to tell him...

Tim, Steph, Duke, in unison: NO

Bruce, awkwardly trying to have a conversation with Jason: Hey, lad, how is your cooking blog is going?

Jason: Uh, people keep commenting cryptid messages. Like, the last time I was showing the right way to tenderise meat for chops because apparently it wasn't clear and someone requested the whole video? Anyway, I did it, and the whole comment section was writing me "in bed, on the floor, on the couch, on a chair, against the wall, against the window, against the door"... Like, why would I do that, not in the kitchen?

Bruce, no less clueless: Maybe it some kind of challenge. Kids love trying new stuff in extreme places nowadays.

Jason: Huh. Maybe. Thanks.

Bruce, just proud to have a proper conversation and somehow a help: Anytime, Jaylad!

Damian, who was unblissfully educated on the slang matter by Tim (because it was his responsibility as a big brother to traumatise him), with his eye twitching: ...None of these words were in Quran

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[demonicsuffrage]

[batbabydamian]

i’m still here

Nightwing (2016) #121

[dilucs-kitty]

Batfamily reunion, kinda ?

Not my idea: https://x.com/tocartss/status/1897135638438404416?s=46&t=zkCvxQnVoZvDMu4v7483qg

[fanaticalthings]

Bruce Wayne except he texts like an ominous boomer

wdym you can't tell if he's threatening them?

Based on this post by @mysterycitrus :)

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Bonus:

Happy birthday, Tim 🥰

[ashenquill]

[Tim and Jason watching Dick as he fakes his death for a mission]

Tim: Man, he really is peak pretty boy

Jason: Right? Like, stop serving while you’re dying. It’s disrespectful.

Tim: For real, like, at least YOU had your priorities straight.

Jason: Exactly, I—

Jason:

Jason: Now hold up just a second—

Tim: I mean, you looked like shit when you died

Jason: THE FUCK, TIM????

[arunneronthird]

he will use every chance he gets to be a drama queen and if he doesnt have one he will create one

[nyukaart]

I hate them

[dickgraysonmybeloved]

Bruce, High on pain killers: I hate to tell you this, but one of you is adopted

The Batfam: …

Dick: .. only one?

[prlssprfctn]

Imagine in the beginning, before Red Hood's goons figure out that he is a baby, they think he is a single dad of a bunch of kids, instead. And it is not like they are wrong, since he does parent all kids of Crime Alley, but they mean not them. They mean Bats, instead.

No one is sure how old Red Hood is. But they saw a single white streak of the hair once, so he is... old, right? And these Batkids, they always hang around him, whining and asking for something - surely, it is his kids? Right? That gotta be it.

Red Hood: Now, back to- Sorry, I need to take a call. Goons: Sure, sir. Red Hood: What... Oh my god, Red. What do you mean, you don't know how to wash the carpet without- Spoiled brat. Okay, listen to me, you first need to get a really hot water... Goons: That's definitely his son being in troubles.

(It was Tim, who accidentally ruined Alfred's favourite carpet. He was in big troubles that day.)

Robin, appearing on the doorstep of Red Hood's den: Scram. I am here to see Hood. Goons, staring at little Damian: Hm-m. Red Hood, pushing them away: Bad day? (Damian wordlessly raising his arms to be picked up by Jason) Okay. It is fine. Goons: Hm-m-M.

Nightwing, whining: You are so boring. Why don't you want to play Twister with us this Sunday? Red Hood, rolling his eyes: Shut up. Goons, overhearing the conversation: Kids, am I right? Red Hood: Huh?

Goons, watching Batman and Red Hood shouting on each other on the rooftop: Hey, do we think Batman is also his kid?.. Goons: (thoughtful pause) Red Hood, completely pissed off by his dad in the meanwhile: I am TIRED of you. Go back to your stupid ass CAVE and think about your behaviour. I don't want to see you AGAIN. Batman: But- Red Hood: OUT OF MY TURF. NOW!!! Goons, staring at Batman, who walks away sulkily: ...HM-M.

Red Hood, staring at the "Best Dad" merch, given him by his goons on his birthday: I am confused. Do they mean kids from Alley, or they view themselves as my kids... What does it mean? Uh. Whatever. It is kinda sweet. Red Hood, on the next day: Thanks, guys. Very thoughtful of you! Goons, high-fiving each other: Sure, boss!

[frownyalfred]

actually the idea that Dick, the eldest, the only one who ever wore the cowl long term, the only one who raised a Robin on his own, is also the only one who can successfully, perfectly replicate that barked ROBIN! in Bruce's voice? the only one who can pull that exact tone from the depths of his soul, to the point where his voice is identical, so identical that old Robins like Jason are obeying before their minds even realize their bodies are moving? that Dick is the only one, has always been the only one, who can channel Bruce's voice? can channel Batman himself? I am going feral