#Tim is teasing

[rookieoneil]

Tim: I hate couples who post cheesy couple photos to Instagram with the whole “5 month anniversary”

Lucy: *deleting her latest post*

Lucy: me too how annoying

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny: If I have to stare at another Excel data sheet, I'm going to scream.

Tucker: Bad day at work?

Danny: Yes. I made a mistake in the company share drive and had to spend all afternoon correcting the data.

Sam: Wasn't that data collected for like the past 6 months?

Danny: You can see why it took me hours. Not to mention how my manager reacted.

Tucker: Was he mad?

Danny: Worse. He was happy to have me go up to the CEO and explain why the bi-annual report was going to be late.

Sam: That's horrible. What did the CEO say?

Danny: I don't know. I was too busy staring at the floor, shamed-face. He laughed after I said the bi-annual report was going to take me two more weeks, and when I looked up, I lost all mental ability.

Sam: Let me guess, you were sent to CEO Tim Drake?

Danny: Yes

Sam: It's understandable that you couldn't function in the face of that.

Tucker: Care to share with the class?

Danny: I gay panicked so hard. I have no idea what happened in those thirty minutes. One second, I was in the doorway explaining to my shoes my mistake, and the next, I was back at my office cubbie, eating a cupcake. I dont know where the cupcake came from but it had a little plastic sign that said "Everyone makes mistake. Everyone has those days".

Tucker: Did that plastic sign also include Hannah Montana?

Danny: Yes.

Sam: Shit, hes hot, gives you food and is funny? Lock that down Danny.

Danny: Look what down!?

Tucker: Baby trap him.

Danny: I can not physically baby trap anyone Tucker.

Sam: Isn't Drake adopted? Go to park and pick out a kid. I'm sure Drake won't care its not his baby, when you trap him with it. Same beginnings and all that.

Tucker: Look for one with his hair or his nose.

Danny: You two are the worst roommates every. I shouldn't have moved in with you after completing our associates. I should have stayed in the student dorms for ny bachelor's.

Sam: Big talk from the boy with student loans and only six months of work on his resume.

Danny: I'm going to bed!

Tucker: Good idea, early to bed means we can wake up early and see what kids are available at the park tomorrow!

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake does one of those ‘Tim Drake Responds to Thirst Tweets' videos. At first, he's all awkward smiles and blushing as he reads the tweets. Some of them are flirty, some are downright bold, some he questions if they should even be told on camera, and he’s trying to stay composed, but you can tell he’s dying on the inside.

Then, as he gets to the last tweet, it's something like, ‘Can confirm: Tim Drake is even hotter in person, 12/10 would date again 😘,’ and he pauses, eyes narrowing, because that sounds way too familiar. The crew behind the camera is trying not to laugh, and it finally clicks for Tim.

Turns out, all of the thirst tweets were sent by his boyfriend, Danny, using fake accounts just to mess with him. Tim’s face just drops, and he mutters, 'I’m going to kill him,' but you can see the fond smile creeping in because he’s not actually mad—he’s just done with Danny's antics. Cue the video ending with Tim texting Danny something like, 'You’re so dead when I get home.' with the most murderous, yet flustered face ever.

And now, fans are losing their minds in the comments about how Danny would totally do that just to make Tim blush on camera (because its like hottest thing they've ever seen???)

[rockspider556]

Batfam Headcanon #1

So Bruce Wayne gets injured—badly enough that he can’t just limp back to the Batcave with Alfred threatening to sedate him whilst yelling about self-care. No, this time the doctors insist he stay at the hospital. Superman and Wonder Woman, thinking they’re his only friends, decide to visit.

When they ask for Bruce’s room number at front desk, the nurse just looks at them and says, “there’s more of you?!”

They exchange deeply confused but mildly concerned glances before heading to the room. Clark, because he’s Clark, peeks inside with his X-ray vision and immediately stops in his tracks.

Diana frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Clark whispers, “There’s, uh… eight people in there.”

Diana’s eyebrows knit together. “Eight? More than Alfred?”

Clark just gestures for her to look, so they walk in—only to be greeted by absolute anarchy.

Bruce is in bed, looking murderously annoyed but utterly incapable of escaping, because there’s a riot happening around him.

Dick is perched on the bed’s edge, grinning as he tries to convince Bruce to eat his horrifically over-baked “Get Well Soon” cookies. (“C’mon, B, they’ve got sentimental value! You can’t taste failure; you can only feel love.”)

Tim and Damian are engaged full-blown war over Uno rules, with Bruce’s lap being used as their playing surface. Damian is glaring daggers while Tim smugly draws a card. (“‘Draw Four’ is illegal there, you demon.” “You’re just bitter because you’re losing, Drake!”)

Jason is standing at the foot of his bed, loudly reading Bruce’s medical chart like it’s a stand-up routine. (“Oh, wow, Bruce. Says here you’re allergic to rest. Oh, and look—‘Patient struggles with a superiority complex and a martyr complex, both incurable.’ Fascinating”)

Steph is perched on the edge of Bruce’s bed, enthusiastically eating his hospital pudding while loudly complaining about how terrible it is. (“Honestly, B, are you sure you can’t get discharged? This food is a human rights violation.”)

Barbara is sitting at the head of Bruce’s bed, her tablet perched on her lap. She’s rewired the hospital TV so it’s running security footage from the Watchtower.

Cass is perched on the arm of Barbara’s chair, alternating between watching the Uno chaos and holding up handmade cards she’s brought for Bruce. Each one has a single-word message, like REST or STOP DYING, in bold marker and glitter. Every time Bruce sighs too loudly, she silently holds up another one that says, DRINK WATER.

Duke is sitting next to Bruce, smiling mildly, scrolling through his phone. He’s the only one looking like he’s got some semblance of peace in his life.

Alfred is standing against the wall, arms folded behind his back, the epitome of British disapproval. He’s wearing his usual long-suffering yet fond expression.

Clark and Diana stand in the doorway, completely frozen.

Diana finally breaks the silence. “He… has children?”

“No,” Clark says slowly, taking in the chaotic scene. “He has a cult.”

In the middle of all this, Bruce catches their stunned expressions and deadpans, “Don’t. Ask.”

Dick waves at them cheerfully. “Oh, hey! You must be Bruce’s work friends!”

Clark and Diana end up staying, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else. By the time they leave, Diana is still trying to understand how Bruce hides an entire army of chaos gremlins under the radar, while Clark is absolutely delighted at the opertunity to mock Mr “I work alone”

Because of course the Dark Knight is actually just an overworked single dad with a very noisy household.

[bluerosefox]

Feral Gremlins VS Fruitloops

Hhmmmm

Hmmm

Guys another DPxDC idea.

Can you imagine the unholy terror and general chaos a deaged Danny and Tim would unleash if they met?

Like say they got deaged by their creepy old man fruitloops in an attempt to make them their heirs but somehow they escape from them and both meet each other on the run.

They maybe small and with little to no memory of how they got there or where they are but they know fruitloops when they see one and thus team up to make their ways home, or at least to Gotham so Batman can help! (-Tim's idea)

Look I just want Tim being a tiny and a little feral smarty whose using that brain of his to outsmart Ra's (and Vlad) and he knows he's not meant to be tiny but his memories are foggy. And I want Danny feral vibing back, finds out he gets powers, and wants to kick the fruitloop that keeps talking mean about his dad and making kissy faces at pictures of his mom butt and also kick the other creepy old man too whose after his new best friend.

Also, I wanna see them hold hands as they run away together. (As a League base is on fire in the background)

[theofficialuriel]

hate to ruin the fun but…

WHY R THERE DOVES OMGFG ARE THEY GONNA KILL MY BOY HE LOOKS LIKE THE MAIN EVENT AT A FUNERl

[monstera-modd]

Ultraluminary

DPxDC #7 DeadTired AU, also a Songfic 

For a visual of what Im’a…trying to describe, here’s the link

_______________

Tim was going to explode! His favorite singer Phantom, was coming to Gotham. He even made sure he got an extra ten hours of sleep, to prepare for the concert. Con was just as excited, and both of them (along with the whole of Young Justice) had scored pit passes to see Phantom live.

They arrived at the venue two hours early, just like they’d planned. Technically, it was to get good spots at the front of the stage for all the performers… but let’s be real– Tim wanted to be as close to Phantom as physically possible.

The air buzzed with anticipation. The sky overhead was dimming toward dusk, and the venue lights flickered to life, casting golden beams across the crowd. People were jittery, loud, and booming with excitement. But Tim’s nerves felt different, he wasn’t just excited. He was wired, on edge, like something electric was coiled tight inside him.

His heartbeat had been climbing all day, not just from the adrenaline of the concert, but from the thought of seeing Phantom in person.

Hearing that voice live. 

Seeing his smile. 

Feeling whatever strange, magnetic pull that voice always had on him—but this time, face to face.

The first performer to hit the stage was Spectra. Her haunting voice swept over the crowd, quieting them instantly.

She opened with a slow, melancholic melody, her voice threading through the air like mist. Every note was bittersweet, aching with beauty. The kind of sound that curled around your ribs and squeezed.

Tim found himself holding his breath through parts of it, his heart beating in time with the hollow echo of her voice. He noticed Con quietly wiping at his eyes halfway through the second song, and honestly? Tim couldn’t blame him. Her music didn’t just tug at your heartstrings– it played them like a violin.

When Spectra’s set ended, the crowd clapped softly, reverently, as if afraid to break the spell she'd cast.

Tim exhaled, realizing he’d been gripping the barrier at the front without noticing. His palms were sweaty. He wasn’t even to the main event yet, and he already felt undone.

Then, all at once– Ember stormed the stage like lightning.

A thunderous chord split the air as her guitar roared to life, wild and electric. The speakers shook under the weight of her sound, each riff scorching through the air like fire made music. She didn’t just play– she owned the stage, strutting across it with the kind of effortless swagger that turned chaos into art.

The crowd exploded into motion, a tidal wave of movement crashing against the rhythm. Ember was a storm in leather and flame, her voice a howl of rebellion that wrapped around the crowd and refused to let go.

Cassie lost it completely.

She was shrieking the lyrics like they were gospel, arms in the air, hair flying as she headbanged and danced without a shred of self-consciousness. She grabbed Wally by the shoulders, shaking him with wild enthusiasm until he finally gave in and started jumping beside her, laughing.

“You don’t get it!” she shouted over the music, practically vibrating with joy. “She’s a legend! Ember was my entire villain era– LOOK AT HER!”

Wally grinned, eyes wide as he tried to keep up with her energy. “I am looking! I think I’m witnessing a religious experience!”

Cassie didn’t hear him. She was too busy air-guitaring along, eyes shining with awe every time Ember hit another screaming note. Her voice was fire, her presence pure magnetism– fierce, beautiful, untouchable.

Tim laughed, the sound half-swallowed by the crowd, but still warm. There was a buzz under his skin now– a steady, pulsing anticipation. Ember’s energy was contagious, but the real reason his pulse wouldn’t settle was because next… was Phantom.

As Ember’s final song hit its climax, she spun her guitar around her back in one smooth, defiant motion and strutted to center stage. Sweat glistened on her skin under the stage lights, her eyes blazing with the high of performance.

She raised her arms high and shouted into the mic, voice still crackling with adrenaline. “Y’ALL KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!”

The crowd erupted, deafening.

“GOTHAM CITY! MAKE SOME NOISE FOR THE ONE! THE ONLY! PHANTOM!”

The lights cut out in an instant. A thin curtain dropped from the ceiling, casting the stage in silhouette.

The cheering reached a fever pitch– screams, stomps, whistles, cries of “WE LOVE YOU!” echoing into the darkness. It was pure chaos, pure electricity.

And Tim… Tim’s breath caught.

In the suspended hush between the cheers and whatever came next, his heart thundered in his chest. That tiny pause felt like it stretched forever, holding him still in its grip.

Then– A breath through a microphone.

The sound alone sent a shiver down Tim’s spine, sharp and sudden, like the world itself had inhaled with him.

The crowd fell quiet.

“I'm the light, every night in your world…”

That voice.

That voice.

It hit him like gravity. Smooth and silken, wrapped in a depth of emotion that settled in his bones and pulled tight around his chest like a velvet ribbon. There was something rich and haunting in it– rising and falling like the tide, aching and beautiful in every syllable.

Tim’s heart clenched. He’d never heard anything like it.

A soft glow began to bloom on the stage, a wash of blue light illuminating a figure behind the curtain– silhouetted, ethereal.

“Are you ready to watch me be leg-en-dary?”

The figure moved, arm raised high in a bold, elegant pose– singing into what looked like a microphone.

“'Cause I'm… ultra-luminary.”

With a sweep across his body, the veils dropped– timed perfectly with the thrum of the first beat. Light cascaded like a waterfall, revealing Phantom in full.

And Tim forgot how to breathe.

Phantom smirked beneath lashes dusted in glitter that shimmered like stardust, casting celestial sparks around his vivid green eyes. His outfit shimmered in deep hues of blues, indigos, and rich violets that rippled like a galaxy draped across his skin. Every movement sent his fabric trailing behind him in waves, and the very air seemed to warp around his presence.

Tim was spellbound…completely, hopelessly frozen. So close. He was so close. If he just reached out–

A sudden push from the crowd knocked him forward, shoving him straight to the front of the T-shaped stage. The pulse of bass echoed in his ribs, but all he could see was Phantom.

Phantom tossed the fake microphone into the audience with a grin, striding confidently down the extended runway. His steps matched the beat, his hands swinging with graceful intention.

“You wish on me in my glitter light, First star you see tonight…”

He pointed toward the distant horizon, foot dragging gently along the stage with the melody’s pull, like painting light with movement.

“So wish away– wish with all your might Upon this radiant sight.”

Phantom threw his head back in a sweeping motion, then spun in a dazzling flare of color. His hands sparked with glowing light, and as he dropped smoothly to the stage floor, brilliant beams burst outward from his fingertips, piercing the blue atmosphere with radiant streaks of pink and orange.

The audience screamed in delight, but Tim could barely hear it. The world had narrowed down to this: light, sound, color… and him.

“The stars Ignite, They flame from dust Born out of gravity and force– they combust…”

The beat dropped into a low, pulsing thrum that vibrated through the floor and straight into Tim’s chest. His breath caught, his heart pounding in time with the rhythm, pupils blown wide as Phantom moved closer.

Swaying. Flowing. Every step like a ripple through liquid light.

Phantom swept down the strip with effortless grace, closing the distance, and Tim’s whole body leaned forward, drawn like a moth to flame.

He stopped right at the edge of the stage.

Right in front of him.

Tim looked up, caught in the gravitational pull of him, and the world narrowed down to Phantom’s silhouette bathed in starlight.

Backup dancers rose seamlessly from hidden platforms, flanking him with perfectly synchronized movements, their voices layering in sweet, high harmonies.

“And though they try…in ri-val-ry They’ll never shine bright as me.”

The lights suddenly went black.

Tim's breath hitched.

Phantom held the final note, arms rising in slow reverence… and then, with a single, dramatic throw downward, the stage exploded into blinding bursts of white, pink, and yellow, washing the entire stadium in light.

His outfit shimmered again, colors shifting, reflecting the explosion like a living aurora. He had become a supernova incarnate.

“I’m the light every night in your world– Eh”

Phantom pointed directly into the crowd, his body bending down low before rising back up in a fluid arc, hips rolling effortlessly as he danced across the stage’s edge. The backup dancers followed him like orbiting satellites, flawless and entranced.

And for a heartbeat, Tim could swear Phantom’s eyes locked onto his.

His breath hitched –cheeks flushing hot– and somewhere behind him, he faintly heard Conner’s laugh, low and teasing.

But he couldn’t look away.

“You revel in the glory of my beau–ty”

Phantom shimmered, dragging one hand slowly across his face, fingers trailing like liquid light. His eyes flared brighter, almost glowing. Then he raised his leg in a dramatic kick forward, stepping into a powerful pose, dragging his hand up the length of his own body.

Tim’s gaze followed every motion, helplessly caught in the slow, sensuous gravity of it.

This… this being wasn’t just a performer.

He was a celestial event.

A deity wrapped in stardust and soundwaves. And Tim…Tim would kneel, would offer up his soul if it meant getting closer.

To feel.

To hold.

To touch.

“Ya ready to watch me be le-gen-dary?

'Cause I'm ultra-lumi-nary.”

Phantom spun around, and the screen behind him lit up, catching the motion in perfect clarity. Even with his back to the crowd –back to Tim– the camera zoomed in on his face, capturing the sly smirk and the teasing shrug he tossed at the lens.

The audience screamed.

And then…he launched.

Phantom shot upward, soaring off the stage like a burst of cosmic light. His laughter rang out above the beat, bright and joyful, as he twirled mid-air arms spread wide, trailing glittering streaks behind him.

He danced across the open sky like a star set free, and Tim… Tim was falling.

“Whoa… Wel-come to Lu-na-ria Whoa… So Spec-ta-cularia”

Many more screens lit up all around the stadium, like constellations blinking into existence. Each one shimmered with Phantom’s dazzling smile as he flew along the outer walls, trailing sparklers in his wake like a rocket launching into space.

“Whoa… Super Sin-gu-lary”

Phantom soared in a graceful arc, then descended slowly toward center stage, lowered on a hidden platform. He didn’t miss a beat– didn’t stumble, didn’t even breathe wrong. He glided, slipping effortlessly into the next movement. Arms raised in a dramatic flex toward the crowd, then swept high above his head before cascading low in a fluid ripple through his torso.

With one hand on his hip, he pointed out to the chaotic, euphoric sea of fans in every direction. Then he spun his hand in a loop, pressing it against his chest and crossing both arms into an X, winking playfully at the nearest camera.

“‘Cause I’m so Very Very

Extra-ordi-naria”

The crowd screamed, a tidal wave of sound crashing into the stage. Tim felt dizzy from the sheer intensity of it all.The lights, the music, the energy thrumming in his bones like a second heartbeat. His fingers curled against the barricade in front of him, clutching it like an anchor.

There was a brief pause in the music as a spotlight swept to the side stage.

A DJ stood behind a set of turntables, bathed in golden light. He wore a red beanie and a dark blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Short dreadlocks framed his face, warm-toned skin catching hints of the light display still strobing in blues, pinks, and yellows.

One hand pressed a headphone to his ear, the other flicking and spinning expertly across the console, each movement subtle but confident, shaping the entire pulse of the show with flicks of his wrist and taps of his fingers.

Tim barely noticed him.

But Wally? Wally definitely did.

Even now, with the DJ’s booth dimming again as the spotlight faded, Wally’s eyes lingered on that corner of the stage, a quiet grin on his lips.

Tim would’ve teased him– if he could look away from Phantom long enough to form a coherent sentence.

“The cosmic shine of my fine display

Can turn the Night to Day”

The lights slowly shifted, bleeding from galactic neons into soft gradients of peach and rose gold, mimicking the glow of a rising sun. Phantom ascended with it, higher than before, bathed in the morning light. His silhouette floated in a swirl of lavender, white, and the faintest dusting of orange; like sunrise painted into motion.

“I hear they say that the Milky Way Can't help but envy me”

He twirled in slow, lazy circles, each movement dripping with confidence, every step and flick of his fingers divine. He held his hand out in a dramatic flourish, head bobbing with a lidded gaze and a smug, dazzling grin that made Tim’s stomach twist with heat.

That grin could end empires.

And then Phantom spun –faster, brighter– arms thrown wide as he rose even higher, a glowing white light rising with him like the first star of a brand new dawn.

Tim felt breathless.

Completely and utterly wrecked.

“I am the Brigh-test Star

Superb Spec-tacular…”

Phantom tilted backward… then suddenly dropped.

It was like a wire snapped. A high note rang out –sharp, jarring– and then nothing.

The music vanished. The lights blinked out.

For a moment, the stadium was swallowed in silence.

Gasps echoed from every direction. Uneasy murmurs swept through the crowd like a rising tide.

And then, a dim green glow flickered to life on the stage.

Phantom was kneeling, bowed low, hands braced on the floor like he was in mourning or prayer. His freckles shimmered faintly in the dark, barely illuminating the sorrow carved into his face.

A low beat began to thrum again– soft, slow, like a heartbeat pulled from the wreckage of grief.

“It was a desert on the Moon... When… We... Ar-rived

Gathering all of my tears, heart-break and sighs”

Tim’s breath hitched.

His chest clenched tight as Phantom lifted his head, glowing green tears streaking down his cheeks. They slipped into his cupped palms, forming a soft, shimmering puddle –grief made visible, grief made beautiful– until the tears began to rise, floating gently into the air.

They curled upward in spirals, slow and reverent, trailing like stardust through the air.

And Phantom rose with them.

He didn’t move like a performer anymore… he moved like a spirit in mourning, following the path of his sorrow through the stars.

“Tuck made a potion Ignite and Tur-ned the Night

To a Ra-diant City of Light”

The tears –no, the galaxy– shifted into swirling hues of color: pinks, purples, blues, golds. They danced in graceful spins and turns above the audience, encircling Phantom in a spiral of light. He hung at the center of it, delicate and radiant, like the eye of a sorrow-born nebula.

Tim could hardly breathe.

Around him, he heard sniffles…quiet gasps, soft sobs, people trying to hold it in and failing. And he wasn’t any better.

His eyes stung, vision blurring through tears he hadn’t even realized were falling. His cheeks were damp, catching the colored lights and reflecting them like glass. He hiccuped –sharp, involuntary– and clenched his jaw to keep another from slipping out. His whole body trembled, shoulders shaking as he held himself together by threads.

And still, Phantom rose.

“From tears I Rise!

I Rise!”

From the center of that luminous constellation, Phantom surged into motion, trailing light behind him like a comet’s tail. He streaked across the stage, over the crowd, a radiant streak of motion and color and sorrow reborn.

The crowd’s voices rose with him– soft at first, then louder, catching the echo of his words like a lifeline.

Tim looked up, eyes swollen and burning, heart wide open and cracked down the middle. Phantom was a force of nature, a miracle.

He was the ache in Tim’s chest made manifest, wrapped in starlight.

“I’m the light every night in your world– Eh

You revel in the glory of my beau–ty”

Phantom landed back on stage with effortless grace, dancers surrounding him in synchronized motion. Behind him, the jumbo screen projected every perfect step, every flick of his hands, every breathtaking close-up of his face.

Tim had been jostled back a few rows during the crowd’s earlier rush, but he barely noticed. His body moved on autopilot, weaving between people with numb determination until he found his spot again– right where he started.

Then he looked up.

And his heart stopped.

“Ya ready to watch me be le-gen-dary?

'Cause I'm ultra-lumi-nary.”

As Phantom drew out the last word, he raised his arm and pointed directly into the crowd.

Directly at Tim.

Their eyes locked, and the world around them faded.

A slow, knowing grin curved Phantom’s lips as he began descending down the stage again, hips swaying, steps fluid, rhythmic. The chorus echoed behind him, voices and lights swelling in tandem– but Phantom only had eyes for him.

“So Spec-tacularia”

The grin widened when he caught sight of Tim’s face– completely stunned, flushed, eyes wide like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Whoa… Super Singulary”

Phantom stopped at the edge of the stage, just a few feet above him.

Tim stared up, breath held tight in his lungs. His heart was a thunderclap, pounding so loud it nearly drowned the music.

And then Phantom leaned down –slow, smooth, like a secret unfurling– and reached out.

Fingertips brushed under Tim’s chin, tilting it gently upward.

The touch was featherlight, reverent, like he’d been waiting for this.

“‘Cause I’m so Very Very

Extra-ordi-naria”

The last note rang out, echoing into stillness.

But Phantom didn’t let go.

For a second, it was just them. Stage lights casting halos. Phantom’s fingers still resting beneath Tim’s chin, eyes soft and warm now– softer than they’d ever been in the performance. Almost fond.

A small, tilted smile curled on his lips. “Star-struck, baby?”

Tim choked on a breath and nodded, couldn’t even pretend to be smooth about it. He was red-faced and trembling and absolutely wrecked. He followed the movement of Phantom’s hand as he let go and stepped back, body still humming from the brief contact.

The crowd roared, but Tim barely heard it over the racing beat of his own pulse.

Phantom turned with a dazzling flourish, arms stretched wide to the audience. “Thank you for having me, Gotham City!”

The stadium erupted into thunderous applause. 

“And let’s give a big thanks to my lovely openers– Spectra and Ember!”

The two women stepped forward with elegant bows, basking in the crowd’s adoration. Phantom slung an arm around them easily, still glittering in the spotlight.

Tim just stood there.

Still.

Dazed.

That touch –that smile, that look– it hadn’t been part of the show. It couldn’t have been.

He could still feel it. Right there on his chin. Like fire and electricity wrapped in a ghost’s kiss.

Phantom glanced back once more before leaving the stage– eyes finding his with precision.

Another smirk.

Brighter than starlight.

“Bye, baby~.”

And then he was gone.

________________________________

I feel like I was typing the same sentence over and over again 🫠

But this was fun! I’ve never done a song fic before and let me tell you it was… an experience, that honestly took me like a week to finish ✊🏼

It's also now posted on my AO3!

[cellularfish]

What if Dick kissed Jason through his helmet as a joke?

At first, Jason joked about how the only time he'd accept familial kiss is when his helmet is on. Dick takes it seriously and kissed Jason as Red Hood.

Jason didn't mind because Dick kissed his helmet, duh. Not his cheek.

Then Dick managed to kiss his cheek for real, it was out of gratefulness or affection or both. Jason was surprised at first but he allowed it, not like Dick is going to kiss him often. Right?

Right?

Oh boy, he was wrong. The kiss on the cheek became more and more frequent until one fateful day, Jason turned his head around as Dick when he's about to kiss him, causing their lips to meet.

They're both equally surprised and embarrassed but eventually agreed it doesn't mean anything, it's just an innocent kiss.

And then they keep kissing, kissing turned into make out session, make out turned into touching, touching turned into sleeping together for real.

Do you see my vision? Do you see how equally funny, angsty, awkward yet hot it sounds?

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

5x16 | 6x10

[the--firevenus]

The missed opportunity of this fandom to not make an au of baby Terry being Bruce child and last of the Batfam addition

HEAR ME OUT. I KNOW THIS IS VERY FANON AND OOC... BUT CONSIDER THIS. IT'S FUNNY. AND FUN.

In the au Terry exist via clone made by Cadmus or something ala Conner Kent, but instead of mix DNA with someone, it's purely Bruce's DNA, and maybe some enhancement (maybe actually mix with someone but idk, put that in the clipboard) .. But here the catch, somehow the existing of this tube baby caught in the wind and he was rescue by the Batfam (don't asked me the logistic, stick with me, this is brainstorming session)

But, unlike the usual test tube kid or whatever. Terry is just a human baby, a child. Sure Bruce had taken care of Damian when he's young but not this young. And technically? Terry is his son?? Right?? Logistically???? If he raise him? Even tho he also technically a clone??? Whatever. Put that on the clipboard.

Que in the shenanigans, Bruce that was like thinking he's a veteran of taking care of kids by now, suddenly fubbling and start at square one of parenting again cuz THIS IS A BABY... Sure he had took care of other people baby for a bit, learning how to change their diaper and make baby formula... But that someone's else's kid and he only took care of them for a while... THIS IS NEW.. NEW BABY... WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO DO!?!?!? (some part of him was kinda happy to take care of Terry that young cuz he never got the chance to do the same to Damian)

Que Dick kinda amused seeing Bruce looked like the same guy that first adopted him, clueless of parenting (even tho that's not true) and unsure, I think he'd help Bruce around when he had the time, buying baby formula and diapers, or maybe offer to cover Bruce's patrol shift once in a while (you think you've seen Bruce being sleep deprived juggling his vigilante life, his playboy sona life and being a dad of 6+? THINK AGAIN. the new baby had him PASSED THE FUCK OUT whenever he can. Plus man is old. You can't blame him for no longer as agile as new parents are)

I think Jason (if we assume this au is Jason and Bruce relationship being better) would be like "I'm only here to see the baby", and he did, but he also told Bruce to go nap "you look like me after lazarus pit old man", in my head Jason I'd a great babysitter cuz he had helped Roy with Lian, he knows his way, kinda, while talking to the baby as if it's a big man, "listen when you're older, I'm your favourite okay, and I will taught you All the things B didn't want you to do >:)"

Felt like Tim would be the most experienced in the "clone but also not really" department cuz... Yk... Probably advocate any health check if Bruce asked, he may experience with it on someone older in age but Terry is a baby, they need plan if things goes sour and Tim had plans if Bruce need backup. With that said, I like to think when he hold Terry up in his arm, he's suddenly the most over protective brother ever, "I only have this child for a day but if anything happen to him, I will kill everyone in this room and then myself" (and he meant it 100%)

In my head Damian would be the one that felt the most conflicted of Terry existent, on one hand.. Yes they technically share the same blood as the Waynes, but he also so used of being the youngest one, suddenly he felt his position threaten even tho he's aware this baby can't even defeat him even with 100 years of training, he scowl at the baby in Bruce's arm, unpleased of this newcomer that threatening his heir position,,, then baby Terry hold Damian hand and how the tiny baby hand can only hold one of his finger.. " He is so weak father.." "that's because he's still little.." "he's useless.... I shall be there to train him stronger when he's of age." ( "in the meanwhile I will protect his soft bones")

Alfred when he saw baby Terry was a bit stunned, he looked just like baby Bruce it's actually insane but also endearing. Suddenly he smile so fondly remembering the day when Thomas and Martha show him then newly born Bruce to him, so soft, so fragile, so innocent untouched of the cruelty of the world. He found himself promising to do his duty to this new Wayne the same way he said to Thomas and Martha the day Bruce's born.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Holiday request: the audit

"What time is your bedtime?" Uncle demands just as Damian is about to go to Batcave to suit up. For a moment, he fights the urge to proclaim he doesn't have a bedtime because he is not a child. Then he remembers that Uncle had been the one to install the anti-child soldier rule in the League of Assassins.

He allowed them to be trained to defend themselves and the organization but not to be sent on missions or be trained to the point he claimed as "abusive." Uncle believed that the young of Infinity Island should be treated like children and that doing so was not a means of offense.

Instead, Uncle thought providing a peaceful and gentle childhood was a gift. Mother claimed it created weaklings, which is why Damian had pushed himself to this point of skill, but even she had known that her brother's wrath would fall upon her if her more intense training techniques were introduced to him too early.

Damian would like to believe he was one of the best in the League of Assassins, but he knew he wasn't. Uncle Daniel's rule made it hard for him to advance against larger opponents.

He could best everyone in his age group in controlled duels and sparring, and he stood a great chance against the idiots in Gotham streets, but only because none of them had any official training.

In the beginning of his life in Gotham, Damian consistently lingers in the background in battles against enemies such as Bane, Killer Croc, or Scarecrow. He was skilled enough to know he would be a liability if he attempted to take a point, but Father had quickly adjusted his training, and Damian was slowly but surely advancing in his skill set.

Mother would be pleased to learn he was better than the assassin's two age groups above him and that his pain tolerance hide rose. Uncle Daniel had likely noticed as well.

He knew it was due to all those hours out in the field of Gotham's darkest streets.

It had been one of the first things he had been displeased with Father over, and if he wanted his plan to work, he needed to make the sacrifice.

"Nine o'clock," he grumbles, crossing his arms. "Nine thirty if it's not a school day."

Uncle Daniel smiles proudly, leaning back into the doorframe of Father's office. The rest of Father's brood stands around looking confused as Uncle shoots Father a smug look, only to frown at Father's glee. Even someone as great as his uncle had thought Father wanted them on the field.

Not that they had all forced his hand. Damian should show him all the security his father had installed to keep him in the manor and the surveillance hours during which he broke through said security to fight crime.

In fact, Damian should asked Drake if he still had the video where Father had shouted at the top of his lungs, "For the last time, just STAY HOME and let me handle the EXTREMELY dangerous hostage situation, kids!"

Only to slap a hand over his face when Brown had taunted him through the coms. "You can't tell us what to do!"

"Yeah, B, you must learn to control your children." Todd's mockery was nearly drowned out by the sound of gunfire. "We're out of control."

"Damian can not stay home alone," Father says, snapping him from his thoughts. He's glancing at the other idiots in the room, who are all making faces, but this is just the opportunity Damian has been waiting for.

He's not about to let them ruin it with their stupid demand to join Father in the field.

He raises his chin, blurting out his demand. "If we all stay behind, Uncle Daniel shall go with you, Father. To keep you safe."

Both men look butler disgusted, which is what prompts Drake to speak up. "You know Bruce? I actually feel a little under the weather today. Maybe I can stay with Damian, and Mr. Fetnon can go for me."

"That won't be necessary when Steph-"

"Oh shoot B! I have this really big essay due tomorrow, and I was going to stay on coms tonight while I worked on it. I can't go with you. Sorry"

Father appears desperate when he flings his eyes to Richard, who only shrugs. "Sorry, Cass and I are going undercover tonight at the new club. I can't watch your back while trying to get party college kids to tell me where the new drugs are."

"Jason-"

"No."

"I guess I have no choice." Uncle Daniel sighed as if this was all a big chore that Damian had thrown at him. "I'll make sure your incompetence doesn't get you killed. Let's go."

Father's teeth are gritting, but when the visitor steps closer to whisper in his ear, all the protest drains from his body, and he, too, sighs wearily. Damian wished he knew what was said between them, but his uncle had covered his mouth, so he could not lip read.

"Fine. But no killing." Father bites, and Uncle scowls

"I don't kill. I know how precious any life can be." He seers, getting into Father's face. He stabs his pointer finger in the middle of Bruce's chest, pressing down roughly on every syllable.

Damian is about to step in, recognizing the rising anger in his mother's brother, only to watch, in real-time, as Father seems surprised by the comment. Much to his hopeful glee a slight blush rises on the man's cheekbones, even as he turns around to moved the clock.

Uncle rolls his eyes before sinking into the ground as Father vanishes from sight. The office has a long silence before Brown breaks it with a nasty snort.

Utterly mannerless, that one.

"Oh, the sexual tension! They will definitely be fuc-" She cackles, only to pause when her eyes land on Damian as if she had forgotten he was there. Brown reached up to pet down her hair, clearing her throat. "They seem like good friends."

"What? I don't believe you understand. Father and Uncle can barely stand each other."

Drake snickers. "Barely stand"

"Enough," Richard speaks up, popping open the top two buttons on his shirt. It's part of his disguise to look as alluring as possible, though Damian doubts someone would give an idiot who can't correctly dress himself the time of day. "Let's leave Bruce and our house guest alone. We all have jobs, so Steph, get on coms, Tim, get some chicken soap, and Damian, get to bed."

"Wait, I'm not actually sick-" Drake protests, but Richard walks right through his protest. He pushes the idiot out of the office and marches him down the hall toward the kitchen.

Damian watches them go before glancing over his shoulder to where Brown vanishes from sight down the pole to the Batcave in a flash of yellow hair. He nearly joins her, but Uncle would have his head when- and it would be when, not if- he found out he wasn't sleeping.

He still has a year to get them together. He must make sacrifices that wound his pride, such as these. Damian pouts to his room but changes into his sleepwear and brushes his teeth anyway.

His bedtime is only ten minutes away.

[jesuis-assez]

Tim's teasing of Lucy

[08232024]

early manga chilaios….. they’re so special to me…..

[aingeal98]

OK final post on this and then I'll shut up I'm sorry I just have to say my piece. I think the reason stephcass feels so shocking when plenty of wlw ships have gotten the "like a sister to me" treatment in the past is that stephcass managed to avoid literally any mention of that for over 20 years. Even Batgirls for all it's light and flattened characterization understood that Steph and Cass are not sisterly, they're "whatever the fuck those two have going on." Literally every dc writer even if they understood nothing else understood that. They were written as ex lovers in future state so to go from that to this, and from wfa which while fanony takes pains to include oracle babs, steph and cass and duke (as flat and ooc as he is) as equally as important family members as the four fanon batboys, and references canon events that indicates that the writers have read the canon they're pulling from... Like it's not just a case of a bad writer it's a case of "How did we dodge this homophobic bullet for so long only to get hit by Wayne Family Adventures of all things."

[avengerdaisy]

Tim Bradford & Lucy Chen with Celina Juarez and Miles Penn The Rookie 7x16 The Return

[deelightful54]

Los Angeles is more than 500 square miles and the second most populated city in the US, but it's amazing that everything happens within like, 5 square blocks of Mid-Wilshire, and always when the same 7 cops are working, and always to people related to those 7 cops.