#especially in book of circus!!!!

[puolimieli]

i keep losing my mind every time they hint at the existence of r!ciel

[attabxy]

I hate flying through books so quickly and not enjoying them to their fullest extent

[ladyaryawolf]

I am really sad in how they portrayed Nyra and Daemon on the TV Show. But the directors are team green, so yeah. I'm sad. But not surprised.

[kierancaz]

In light of the new Halloween event for twst I wanna talk about how much I love circus themes in media but literally all I have to say is I love them I love them I love them I love them I love them I love them I love them I love them

[yennefer]

i just want celia and marco (and their extended circus family) to be HAPPY, i hate it here (lie) 😭😭

[wiltking]

the stone prince has everything i like in royalty-based fantasy: super rich and insanely detailed worldbuilding, vast and impressive and thoughtful descriptions of castles, gruesomely detailed battles full of blood and nausea and inner conflict, detailed and elaborate family feuds, fantasy religions with huge presence and involvement in societal structures, a devoted gay lover for whom our tortured and deeply angry heir will do anything to keep by his side, women in equal positions of power and battle and royal guard, politics politics politics, and sometimes, if we're lucky, dragons.

i only wish, for the sake of my sanity, that there was a character roster at the end with each character's title(s) and familial relations listed. just a thought

[werebutch]

i was also obsessed with black butler when i was younger they put some crazy shit in there

Yeah….😭

[lilhawkeye3]

A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman

Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.

Let's start with the first visual we get:

UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic. (Edit: and please look up his history of civil rights activism, he was on the FBI watchlist and even a pallbearer at MLKJr’s funeral.)

Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:

THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.

This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.

Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.

The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more. *Edit to add, the first part of this lyric is in reference to the Black Liberation Song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" by Gil Scott-Heron. Thanks to everyone who mentioned that.

THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do. *Edit to add: they also all piled out of a clown car. The US flag in a clown car? Brilliant.

The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."

TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.

STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...

DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.

NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.

SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.

ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...

"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.

So what does Kendrick say?

IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.

40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.

THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.

NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes (read: Drake harassed the hell out of her). *Edit: she was also fined at the 2012 Olympics for crip walking in celebration at Wimbledon.

TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!

GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…

In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

first film watched in 2024: the silence of the lambs

easily one of the best movies i've ever seen imo, anthony hopkins and jodie foster just have incredible chemistry in every scene they're together and it was less transphobic than i was expecting, like sure there's still issues with it because it was the 90s (and the books it was based on were written through the 80s and into the early 90s) but it could've been A Lot Worse

[fromdove]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⁞ 𝓓ICK 𝓖RAYSON ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝓦HEN 𝓗E'S 𝓘N 𝓛OVE 𝓗EADCANONS !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨୧

— dick grayson when he's in love hcs ᵎᵎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

— dick grayson x fem!reader ᵎᵎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

— count how many times I said "like"..... ⊹ ࣪ ˖

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

⤷ he teases you a lot. like. annoying. if you mispronounce a word one (1) time you will never hear the end of it. he’ll bring it up three weeks later like “remember when you said ‘sherbert’ instead of ‘sherbet’ lol dumbass” and you’re like i know where you sleep

⤷ he likes watching you do mundane things. like tying your shoes. or flipping pages. or brushing your teeth. “you always do that little pause before you spit. it’s cute.” <- what are you even supposed to do with that.

⤷ will Not. let you walk on the curb side of the street. ever. like you’ll try and he’ll do that quiet sidestep-switch like no. no. i’m the buffer between you and the world. get behind me baby i’m trained in 47 types of combat

⤷ you sneeze once. ONCE. uno. one. 1 !!!! time. and suddenly he’s Googling “early signs of pneumonia” and wrapping you in three blankets like you’re in an igloo.

⤷ he’s not subtle. not even a little. he’s grinning all the time. like you’re his little secret. except you’re not. because everyone knows. because he talks about you constantly and doesn’t realise it. like someone asks “what do you think of this sandwich place?” and he’s like “oh my partner hates pickles” and you’re like. ok???? who asked???????

⤷ texts like. really badly. "on my way" / "u good?" / "?" / “home safe?” / “did you eat?” / “also here’s a stray cat i found near the precinct it made me think of you bc it was mean but cute”. no punctuation. and then sends you a 3-paragraph message about a book from the 70s that reminded him of you.

⤷ one time you got a papercut and he ACTUALLY KISSED YOUR FINGER. like what is this. a 2003 romcom. who does that. you let him anyway.

⤷ dates are like. chaotic. they range. they VARY. he’ll plan them so carefully and then forget the address. it goes from him taking you rooftop dancing at 2am (he knows the security guard don’t ask). to the fanciest more expensive restaurants. or sometimes its the most random places...like why are we eating cold dumplings on a fire escape at midnight. why am i in your lap. why is this perfect. why r u dancing on the rooftop. pls. i just wanted to eat. it could also be you two literally brushing teeth side by side in pajamas while he talks about some city ordinance that made him mad.

⤷ also he’s like. a hand holder. all the time. especially in crowds. “just so i don’t lose you” ok liar you just like touching me.

⤷ he’s sooooooooooo good with kids it’s disgusting. like you’ll be walking past a playground and suddenly he’s in a full game of tag with a bunch of eight-year-olds like??? ok??? and you’re sitting there like is this what being in love feels like???????? have my babies then??????????

⤷ he gets nervous when you meet bruce. he acts like he doesn’t care but he’s standing straighter. fixing your collar. whispering “you got this”. like. dude. broski. seems like you need that advice a little more than me..

⤷ he brings you little things all the time. dumb things. a keychain. a sticker. he's gotten u a mug that says “i like my boyfriends like i like my coffee: hot and ready to fight crime”. he's like "that describes me perfectly babe!" ok..... just say ur inlove w/urself..

⤷ he loves when you wear his shirts. he pretends to be chill but he deflates when he sees it. “is that mine?” yes dick. it says “haley’s circus” on it. and it smells like crime fighting and your conditioner now. congrats. he’s 70% more handsy. 30% more cuddly. 100% ferocious internally. his caveman brain is like “MINE.”

⤷ he has like. six nicknames for you. three of them are variations of “birdie” and one of them is “hey trouble” and he says it with that little lopsided grin and you melt and throw a pillow at him and he catches it with one hand

⤷ he’s like. stupidly in love. and he’ll kiss your hand when he’s driving. and you’re like. eyes on the road. and he’s like. “i have great reflexes” and you’re like. great. that’s not the point.

⤷ he talks in his sleep. sometimes it’s mission stuff. sometimes it’s your name. once he said “alfred please no more soup” and you almost peed yourself laughing. he was so embarrassed. you bring it up constantly.

⤷ when he’s gone for patrol or a mission longer than expected he always texts. even if it’s just “still alive. miss u. criminals suck.”

⤷ he’s not flashy. but he’s intense. he listens. remembers everything. “didn’t you say you liked this song in april?” yes he has a playlist. yes it’s called “her smile > gotham skyline”

⤷ he acts like you’re a little miracle. like he can’t believe you’re real. he’ll just stare at you sometimes and blink slow like a cat and say “i love you” like it’s a confession every time.

⤷ he’ll tease you but only about dumb things. like how you sometimes stutter when you ramble or how you always leave the cap off the toothpaste. and then he’ll fix it. quietly. every time.

⤷ when he introduces you to his friends. he’s like. so soft. “this is my person. be nice. or i’ll beat you up. lovingly.”

⤷ you catch him looking at you all dreamy sometimes and he just goes “what?” and shrugs and kisses your forehead like it’s no big deal that he’s in constant awe of you

⤷ he’s in love like it’s easy. like it’s gravity. like he’s spent his whole life falling and you’re the first place that ever felt like landing.

⤷ you ask him to hang out and he’s like yeah yeah ofc and then five minutes later you’re on his bike and he's like “is gotham cold or am i crazy” and you're just clinging to him like a lil barnacle while the skyline blurs. he's only thinking about how soft your hands are on his stomach

⤷ he sends you memes. like. actually. they’re dumb. sometimes Nightwing fan edits. he pretends he doesn’t know you know. “someone sent me this” like ok babe sure. "someone" aka your own saved folder. keep lying

⤷ in love dick is like. chaotic neutral trying to be lawful good. he’ll pick you up from school or work and you’re like “you didn’t have to” and he goes “i know” but he’s there every time

⤷ he does this thing where he’ll lean on the counter while you talk. like hand-under-chin. dumb lil smile. he’s not even listening fully sometimes. he’s just watching you like you’re a painting in a gallery he’s been to before but still finds new details in. annoying. beautiful. criminal

⤷ if you’re sleeping over he’s sleeping on the edge of the bed because he moves like a windmill and he’s afraid he’ll knock you out mid-dream. but by morning you’re tangled. always. no exceptions

⤷ ok so. gifts. random. weird. he once gave you a grappling hook keychain and was so smug about it. “just in case you need a quick escape.” sir. from where. my bedroom??

⤷ he talks about you to everyone. not in a gross bragging way. in a like. “yeah (y/n) helped me pick this” or “(y/n) said i’d like this song” or “you’d like them. they’re really funny. and smart. and good. and like. they’re just. yeah.” and then changes the subject aggressively

⤷ he will NEVER say no to you playing with his hair. he’ll act like it’s not a big deal but if you stop he’ll be like “wait. you were doing the— you were playing with my hair—”

⤷ he's the type to check the exits wherever you go but also brings you gum and hand sanitizer like the world's most traumatised dad

⤷ sometimes he zones out while you're talking and you're like hello?? and he's just like “you looked really happy. i wanted to remember it.” AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO SHRUG. ok poetic boy

⤷ he gets weirdly possessive but like. silently. if someone flirts with you at a party he’ll just kind of materialise next to you like “hey babe” and put his arm around you like hello yes i am six feet of jealousy wrapped in kevlar

⤷ he will not admit he cried over you once (more than once, lets be real). even though it’s obvious. even though jason literally heard him sniffling in the batcave. it’s fine. let him pretend

⤷ when you’re upset he gets quiet. not cold. just. steady. he listens. he doesn’t try to fix it unless you ask. he sits next to you and holds your hand and says “i’m here.” and he is. fully. always.

⤷ he’s got scars on scars but he lets you trace them. tells you the stories if you want. lies about the ones he’s not ready to talk about. it’s ok. you know. you wait

⤷ love makes him dumb. he does pushups with you sitting on his back. buys your favorite snacks in bulk. lets you paint his nails and then goes on patrol with them like it’s normal (it is)

⤷ he teaches you how to do flips. or tries. and then laughs when you fall. but then also kisses your scraped elbow like “my bad babe” with zero actual remorse. “you’ll get it next time” he says while still laughing. he’s sososososo annoying. you love him.

⤷ wears your hair tie on his wrist like it’s part of his uniform. you say nothing. he says nothing. but it’s always there.

⤷ teaches you escrima if you ask. but only if you promise not to make fun of the sticks. you make fun of the sticks anyway. he fake pouts. you kiss him mid-fight. he drops one stick. it’s fine.

⤷ carries a picture of you in his wallet and pretends he doesn’t. you find it once and he tries to act like it’s no big deal. “whatever. you look cute. move on.”

⤷ he thinks he's subtle. he's not. the whole batfamily knows. jason makes fun of him. damian gags. tim just leaves the room. bruce is like “don’t get distracted” and dick is like “yes sir 🫡” while actively distracted.

⤷ picks at your food. then acts shocked when you do the same. “you said you weren’t hungry??” yeah ok YOU said you weren’t emotionally available dick now look at us. hypocrites in love.

⤷ gives you nicknames like “hotshot” or “trouble” and then blushes when you call him anything. “dork” makes him literally malfunction. he pretends to be offended but smiles when you’re not looking.

⤷ gets quiet when you’re sad. like real quiet. sits next to you and just waits. doesn’t force you to talk. but if you do talk—he listens. like really listens. remembers every word. brings it up months later. “you said this place makes you feel calm” oh so you remember that ok

⤷ he’s so annoying. in the best way. like. the type of annoying that makes you blush and kick your feet and want to punch a wall. his wall specifically.

⤷ he’s all casual flirty with everyone right?? but when he’s in love with you??? he turns tender. like terrifyingly tender. it’s like he’s trying not to break you by looking too hard. like eye contact might detonate you. but i mean. either way. he still stares at you hard. even when trying not to.

⤷ he does the “can you sit with me while i do paperwork” thing. like you’re a cat. like he just wants you in proximity while he suffers.

⤷ he picks up food for you without asking. every time. "thought you might be hungry." no baby you knew. we have a soul connection. you felt my hunger. don’t play with me

⤷ he touches your back when you cross streets. lets you walk on the inside of the sidewalk. opens the door even when you argue. says "just let me take care of you a little." & now you’re sobbing in the CVS skincare aisle. congrats.

⤷ he lets you braid his hair when it gets too long. he pretends to hate it. you both know he’s lying.

⤷ if you're tired? he's pulling you into his lap before you can blink. he’s like “you rest. i got it.” you don’t even know what “it” is. but he’s got it. apparently.

⤷ "you don't have to do everything alone anymore." <- said in a whisper. at 1:47am. when you tried to sneak out so he wouldn't see you cry. yeah. he saw. and now you're in his arms and he's not letting go until morning.

⤷ when he's in love he’s... warm. like that kind of warm that feels like sunshine on a cold day. or like a bath that runs the perfect temperature.

⤷ he remembers everything. like that one time you said you liked strawberry twizzlers?? there's a pack in your glovebox now. he swears he didn’t put it there. liar.

⤷ you call him in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream and he’s like “i’m coming over” and then he’s actually there. barefoot. in sweatpants. holding two mugs and looking worried

⤷ he loves all of you. not just the good stuff. he loves the mess. the overthinking. the crying. the way you squeak when you laugh. he calls it “his favorite sound.”

⤷ every time you fight. he comes back. every time. he won’t let you sleep mad. he’ll wait on your fire escape all night if he has to. says “i’m not leaving until we’re okay. even if you throw something at me.”

⤷ once tried to not fall in love with you. failed.

[oceantornadoo]

rose scented scrubs

ex-husband Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x f!reader

the post-divorce love confession fic of my dreams, word count 5.5k

ps I know Dana said it was her last shift in one of the episodes but idc deal with it I had to write her.

-

It was a few hours into your book when you realized you’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

It had been the first cafe to catch your eye, advertising a yummy pastry you’d been aching to try on a beautiful late Saturday morning. Only after you’d noticed the fourth person in scrubs at the counter did you realize your mistake. The cafe had two entrances - one on the busy street you came in on, the other right outside of Pittsburg Medical Center.

Current workplace of your ex-husband.

You hadn't been near the hospital in months. When you'd been married (the past tense of it a hard pill to swallow, let alone think), you would drive by the hospital on your way to work, leaving early so you could stop by and get a kiss from the man who'd already been up since 5am. After the papers were signed, ink dried and heart broken, you told yourself to revel in those extra twenty minutes of sleep. Now you could drive straight to work, no pit stop needed, and all you had to give up was your marriage.

An almost-kid in black scrubs burst through the door, scanning his phone like his life depended on it. With his flustered expression, he looked like the stereotype of a country boy losing his way in the big city. You checked the clock - 3pm. A little over halfway into the usual twelve-hour shift from 7 to 7. The knowledge sprang up unbidden, carved into your brain by how long you’d lived and breathed it. “Hello! Can I get one black coffee, no cream or sugar, two lattes, regular milk…” he ended with a total of ten drinks, an amount the barista behind the counter barely seemed flustered by. At least for one of them, it wasn’t their first day on the job. He ended up near your chair and the urge to ask was too great, desperation clawing its way out of your throat.

“Are they making the interns get drinks now?” You quip, immediately cursing yourself. There was absolutely no reason to interact, who knows if he’s even in Robby’s department, why- “Yeah, actually. We had a pretty rough time last month, so the admin staff is giving us a new food and drink stipend instead of more staff.” He laughs to himself before remembering that you're a stranger, his cheeks apple red. “Are you a doctor?” He asks. Now it just sounded creepy if you said no, but there was absolutely no chance you could say yes. “No, but I’ve got friends at the hospital.” Friends being Dana, who forces you into monthly mental health check ins where she stares at you until you cry.

“Who’s your friend? If you want, you could stop by with me. I haven’t memorized her name yet, well it’s only my first month, but the front desk worker is super nice, especially since the ER is slow right now.” You gulp at the pit (figurative, not literal) that you’ve dug yourself into. Of course you had to talk to the ER intern. It couldn’t have been Peds, where they’d invite you to say hi to cute babies from the NICU glass? You’ve done it once or twice, bored of waiting on Robby and making friends with all the nurses.

You open to give your refusal and apologies but get interrupted by the barista shouting “Dennis!” Three containers of drinks appear out of nowhere, and you can’t help but cringe at how Dennis has no way to carry them all. He’s currently attempting to balance one on top of the other, and your duty as a Good Samaritan suddenly becomes clear. The thought of seeing Dana, and perhaps Collins or McKay if you’re lucky, makes your heart swell. Robby will be easy to avoid if you stay vigilant. Tucking your book into your tote, you stand and prepare yourself for battle. It’s easy to make your way to Dennis, who looks like a circus performer, and grab two of the drink trays. “C’mon, kid. Let’s caffeinate these people.”

It feels like a dream you’ve dreamt a thousand times. Walking into the ER, looking fabulous with your makeup just right and your best perfume on. Dropping off a sick friend and running into Robby, stunning him with your six-month post-divorce glow up. Or maybe it’s a year later and you bring in an injured and scandalously younger boyfriend to show him what he’s missing. After those dreams, you always wake up empty, soul heavy. In other ones, it’s you on the gurney, letting him prove to himself he can save the people he loves, that you’re not just another Adamson. A romantic revelation that would fix those last hollow months of your marriage, grief and regret heavy on his tongue but never making its way out. Those end in tears, your face wet when you wake.

You’d never imagined this - your best weekend leggings and your favorite tote swinging from your shoulder as you follow in what has to be Robby's baby intern. You nod at the woman behind the counter, a new person you don’t know. She seems about to stop you from going in but then you hear a clear voice yell your name. So much for an in and out mission.

McKay greeted you with a warm smile, taking one of the drink trays from you as she nudges your shoulder. “Long time no see!” Her friendly tone makes you ache with regret. You’ve kept up with Dana only because she forced her way into your new, solitary life. It felt uncouth to reach out to McKay or Collins, like it would seem a ploy to get back to Robby. Shame ruins through your veins at your actions, or lack thereof. “Hey, I’m sorry for the ghosting. Been going through some stuff. I like your new bangs!” She doesn’t let you distract her, brows staying knitted at your second sentence. For once, you hate how determined she can be, her maternal instincts knowing no bounds. “What stuff?” McKay pulls you off the side, ignoring the drinks in both of your hands that are definitely in demand.

“Well, I’m sure you already know.” You roll your shoulder forward to emphasize your point. It’s pretty clear what you’re talking about, but the word ‘divorce’ feels too ugly to mention between you two. She doesn’t seem to get the memo, looking you up and down like she’s expecting the answer to pop out of the sweater you’re wearing. “I don’t get paid enough for you to waste my time being all facetious.” You snort, but the anticipation of your next words sobers you quickly. “Moving out, finding a new place, all the paperwork. It’s been a lot, but I should’ve kept up and I’m sorry.” Her lips purse in confusion. There’s a strain around her shoulders and you hate that this talk might be causing it, probably reminding her of her own divorce. “Did something happen at your old apartment? We don’t talk personal lives too much, but Robby would’ve mentioned a flood or something. Or did you guys finally get a bigger place?” The thought of that lightens her eyes, a rare smile you don’t see too much in the ER. Your heart sinks.

Robby didn’t tell her.

Of course, he left the hard stuff to you, once again. “Cass…” you trail off, unsure how to continue. Once again, you’re saved by an interruption. “What are you doing, robbing my best staff and not saying hi?” Dana appears, her short white-blond hair framing her face like a stern angel. You’ve haven’t seen her in a month and a half since she took some time off to deal with personal stuff after a particularly rough shift. She’s never been a big texter, so you anticipated more information at your future catch up, planned for next week. “I ran into one of the interns looking lost in the cafe over and simply had to help.” You tease. Your eyes meet hers but immediately look over her head, searching for him. Wherever she goes, he’s not far behind, always paying his dues in following her wisdom.

“He’s in Trauma 1, helping a drowning victim.” Fuck, you’re caught. Dana smirks at you like she’s inside your head. McKay’s eyes twinkle like there’s something romantic about to happen and you mourn the fact you’re about to give her yet another reason to not believe in a man, again. “I wasn’t looking for him, I was looking for Collins.” You bite, ignoring how McKay’s confusion has reached an all time high to your right. To distract them both, you push the drink tray forward. “I think there’s a hazelnut latte somewhere in here for you, Ms. Busybody.” Dana narrows her eyes as she finds the drink you’re talking about, plucking it out with precision. One drink down, three to go and then you can leave. That intern, Dennis, is nowhere to be found. You’d leave the drinks on the desk, but you know that would be a hazard in so many ways. Plus, some person would probably grab a drink that’s not theirs and you can’t be responsible for pandemonium - you know what lack of caffeine can do to a healthcare worker. Thankfully, the white lids read their contents: black coffee, hot tea, and…hot chocolate? Maybe there’s a kid who needed some comfort.

“Do you know who the rest are for?” You question. Dana shrugs and you can sense some ulterior motive behind her eyes. “Sounds like a question for Whittaker.” That must be Dennis. In the crowd of gurneys and scrubs, you can’t seem to find him. “The hot tea is for Collins and the hot chocolate is for Javadi, one of the interns. Of course, you know who the black coffee is for.” Double fuck.

You had hoped it was someone else who had a taste for black sludge, but unfortunately only one doctor does. Cowardly, you turn to McKay and give her your best try of puppy dog eyes. “Do you mind passing these out?” She snorts, clearly amused. “As if I’m getting between you and Robby mid shift. I remember last October all too well.” You stiffen at the memory. Surprising the staff with pumpkin cookies you’d baked, shrieking when Robby had grabbed you by the hips and ordered you into an unused storage room. How McKay had opened the door (“looking for supplies, I swear I did not want to see any of that”) with your hand in your husband’s scrubs and your leg, chilly in a skirt for easy access, wrapped around his waist.

“I see Collins. It was nice seeing you, McKay.” It’s a rude goodbye, but you can’t stomach anything more. Collins’ signature red jacket is easy to spot as she comes out of one of the nearby rooms, conferring sternly with what seems to be another intern. They just keep multiplying.

“Like I told you, you wait for my instructions, you don’t just intubate because-“ Your eyes catch and the emotional weight around your shoulders sags a bit more. She sends the intern off with one more warning before greeting you with a slight smile. “I heard you needed a hot tea.” You brandish the drink tray like a shield. She takes the cup delicately, taking a small sip and sighing in delight. “I haven’t seen you in six months. Work trip or something? Robby’s been worse than usual.” He didn’t tell her either. It’s starting to look like the only people who know about your divorce are you, Robby, and Dana. It begs the question why, but you’re not strong enough to answer. You know Collins would be a good person to confide in, but you don’t want to drop a bomb on what looks like an exhausting day. Her outward mask might be tough, but once you got over the awkwardness of her being Robby’s long-ago fling, you’ve always been able to see right through it.

“Something like that. You okay?” You move her off to the side before she can get swept into another case. She gives you another one of those barely-there smiles, and you ache to think that she’s been struggling with something, maybe worse than you. Maybe she sees something reflected back, because in a rare move, she opens up. “I had a miscarriage a month ago.” On instinct, you find an empty chair to set the drink tray on before sweeping her in your arms. She doesn’t like to be touched by many, especially at work, but she makes an exception for you.

“Oh, Heather.” It’s all you can say. She doesn’t cry, too battle worn and aware of the eyes on her, but the breath she takes is a near thing. After a few seconds, she pulls back, tight lipped and eyes shining. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there, but this isn’t about me. Oh, honey.” You murmur. You squeeze her hand, trying to impress on her all the things you cannot say. Heather Collins doesn’t like empty platitudes, so you don’t try to give her any. For a second, she squeezes your hand back before her mask slides back into place. “Thank you. Robby’s been kind, let me go home early the day it happened and pick the best shifts. It seems he kept it secret, so I’m thankful.” You don’t mention that the last time you talked to him was six months ago in a lawyers office. You know Robby and even if you were still together, he would’ve taken this secret to the grave. One of the things you love about him.

She switches the topic to you, asking about your supposed trip, but a miracle, or rather a group of interns, rumbles past you. You might not be a doctor but they’re easy to spot, unsure or overconfident, spilling unhelpful advice like gospel. “Hey! Any of you Javadi?” You call out. The girl nearest you whips her head around like you just cursed her name. She looks barely past college, hair pulled back into a ponytail of midnight black. “Me. I- that’s me.” You bend down, plucking the hot chocolate out of its tray and handing it to her. Her eyes are bright and thankful, like it's a winning lottery ticket instead of a drink. “Thank you! I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, Doctor…”

“Robby!” The middle intern says, her posture stiff with self-confidence. “Um…” you trail off, looking to Collins for help before remembering she doesn’t know. “I heard Princess and Perlah talking. You’re Robby’s wife, right?” All you can do is gape at the gall of her, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Collins restrains a laugh, unhelpful, and the other interns are looking at you like you’ve hung the stars. What in the world do you-

“Indeed. Last time I checked, this was a hospital to learn, not gossip. Keep it moving, you three.” His voice is like melted honey, warm and gooey and too comforting to name. Collins mentions something about a patient, taking her leave with raised eyebrows. It’s hard, but you try not to acknowledge the voice behind you as you watch her walk away. Only when her red jacket disappears from view do you turn.

He doesn’t look good. It’s what you said you wanted, of course, but the truth is, you’re just concerned. There’s dark circles under his eyes, almost covered by those black rounded glasses of his. A few new grays grace the side of his head, stark against the rest of him. The wrinkles on his face make him look aged, not the wise wizard you forced him to be for Halloween a few years ago. His scruffy beard dots his jawline and the ache to feel it is so deep, you fear it’ll never leave.

“Hi.” You whisper shyly, a knock-kneed girl instead of the woman you are. He smiles that gentle smile of his, crow's feet unapologetic, and it seems to turn back time. Just yesterday, you might’ve been making dinner together or cuddling on the couch. “Hi. I heard you’ve got a drink for me?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you point to the chair in between you. Deft fingers find his cup and pull. It’s hard not to watch them work, not to trace the calluses and the nimble movements. “Since when do interns order you around?” He asks, taking a second to gulp down his coffee. You stare at the movement of his throat, so many dirty memories making themselves known in the back of your head. “I’ve been demoted, I guess.” It didn’t mean to come out like that but it’s clear that’s what he thinks, a sudden frown appearing on his face.

“Is something wrong? Some paperwork I need to sign?” He asks in a burst. Your stomach churns at the rejection and instinctively, you take a step back. He seems to try to follow you, but the leg of the chair stops him. “No, I just - It’s funny, I guess. I was at that new cafe across the street and ran into an intern who looked like he needed help and well, I figured it would be nice to see Cassie and Heather, so here I am.” You end your rant with a shrug, instantly regretting every decision that led you here. Of course you were going to run into him. There wasn’t any other path, not for you. And of course, he just thinks you’re here for paperwork. He’s clearly moved on, even if he looks like he’s hurting. It’s time you do to.

“Well, that’s all my drinks, so…” Trailing off, you look around desperately for help. The Pitt seems to be against you, everyone following their standard practice of leaving you two alone when all you want is to be away from him. “How are you?” He whispers like a secret, voice raspy but sure. Emotion swells in your sternum instantly at his question. Soft eyes take your awkwardness in stride as he steps around the chair until he’s on your left, back to the Pitt. The familiarity of it is like a bullet to chest. “I’m fine. You?”

Robby shrugs, letting you trace the lines of his shoulders under that familiar sweatshirt. "Rough couple of months, to be honest." You blink at his honesty. That same honesty that led to that fateful conversation - you'd served him the divorce papers, but he was the one to suggest lawyers and due process. The papers were meant to wake him up, make him realize how much he needed to fix this, but all they did was end things.

"I wanted to see you. Dana wouldn't give me your new address, something about not being ready. Plus, I think you blocked me," he laughs at himself like it's funny, what he's admitting. A thousand questions form, 'why' and 'when' and 'what'. You'd blocked him and deleted his number the moment the papers finalized, knowing you weren't strong enough to truly recover if you could talk to him. It looks like he didn't do the same, and a rare burst of hope shines through the fog that's made itself at home in your brain. You gape, no words coming to you.

One of those hands, strong and capable and not yours, raises to push his glasses up his nose. You freeze.

It's still there.

Three years ago, ring shopping to find a perfect band. He got a black plastic version as well, something he could wear to work without worrying about blood or a rogue patient. That same black band still graces his ring finger, a blaring alarm that things aren't what they seemed.

"Michael." There's nothing else to add, your eyes still trained on his hand. Of course, all-seeing as he is, he picks up on what you're looking at right away. He's quiet, face worn with contemplation. "Why?" You ask, voice wavering. Tears form in an instant, choking any air in your lungs. "I couldn't take it off," he admits, somber. You think of your own ring, tucked away in your new bedstand that you had to build yourself. "I don't understand," you rasp.

"Baby, I've been-"

"Robby, we need you!" A voice breaks through the bubble you're in. Without realizing, you've become almost nose-to-nose, curling your hands to your chest in an attempt to not touch him. He sighs, pulling back a little, and it's like losing the warmth of the sun. "You know where the staff lounge is?" He asks, smiling when you nod immediately. "Wait for me. I'll be there soon." He hands you his coffee and rips himself away, already reaching for a hand sanitizer station.

-

In the staff lounge, your book sits unopened on the table. It's hard to do when your mind won't stop whirling, wondering if you've gotten this all wrong. The door bursts open and you snap up, hopeful, only to shrink a little when you realize it's not him. You recover quickly, not wanting to seem rude in a place you're not supposed to be in. "Hi, Kiara." You've only met her once or twice, but she's the kind of comforting soul you'd remember. She gives you a smile and then beelines for the electric kettle in the back. "Mrs. Robby, how are you?" You gulp at her question, realizing your ex-husband truly told no one about his divorce. "I've been better, but nothing I can't handle. You?" It's hard not to be honest when she's so easy to talk to, pulling out a chair for her to wait for her kettle. "One of those days. A mother just lost her child, so I'm making her a hot tea." Despite the dark news, the tight-lipped smile she sends you seems genuine. You ask about the ER overall and she tells you about the mass-casualty event that happened last month. You know a bit from Jake's mom, checking in on him through her instead of wanting to bother a grieving teenager who'd already been frustrated about the divorce.

As the kettle finishes, the door bangs open again. This time it is Robby, who looks flustered but sends you a smile anyways. It's like licking a spoon of brownie batter - secretive and a little wrong, but delicious anyways. You shouldn't have waited, should've left when you could, but deep down you need your questions answered. Kiara passes him with a cup in her hands, whispering something into his ear as she leaves. "I will." Robby replies, making you frown at the secrecy. Usually, if they're discussing a patient, they'll do it in front of you without names. Whatever that was had to be personal, and you're too emotionally raw not to ask.

"What was that?" You mutter, a little unkindly. Robby takes a seat, and you push his coffee cup towards him. His knee taps yours in thanks and stays there, its presence bewildering but not unwelcome. "She told me to use the communication skills we've been talking about." A laugh bursts out of you and you regret it instantly, your knee pressing into his. "Since when do you have communication skills?" You chortle. That's one of the things he might have at work, but never in a relationship. It used to be a joke between you, how you had to pry his true feelings out of him at the beginning of your relationship, but it turned to bitter satire in the end.

A heavy hand lands on your thigh, burning its way through the thin fabric of your leggings. "I know my communication has been...lacking," you hold back a snort, "but after last month, I've been talking to Kiara. Seems like I should've been following my own advice all this time." He admits, squeezing your thigh at the end of his sentence. Wide-eyed shock works its way through your veins. He actually addressed the major reason you said you wanted a divorce. The contentment you feel is like a nugget of gold, there for you to hoard and keep safe from judgement.

"Robby, that's wonderful. I'm proud of you, really." You exclaim, finding his hand on your leg and covering it with your own. The silicone of his ring digs into your fingers, and you let it. "I like it better when you call me Michael." He confesses. His chair squeaks as he turns towards you, shifting positions until his knees bracket yours on either side. His free hand raises to cup your face, familiar fingers petting your hair and your skin.

"Why are you wearing your ring, Michael?" You blurt, the need for his answer too great to hold back. Your ex-husband sighs, leaning forward until his face is all you see. On instinct, you reach out to take off his glasses and set them on the table. He always complained they hurt his nose, so he only wears them when reading. You brush the imprint left behind, smoothing down red marks and tracing the places you used to kiss every morning.

"You're still the love of my life, sweetheart." He confesses as you stiffen. He takes the lead, guiding you out of the chair and onto the worn couch on the far side of the room. It's easier to sink into his hold here, your face and your heart in the palms of his hands. Yells echo through the door, giving you an out to slide back and interrogate.

"That's how you treat the love of your life? You barely talked to me for months, Robby. You refused to go to therapy or marriage counseling and..." What you leave unsaid is too hurtful to bare. An old insecurity that was watered by months of loneliness, Robby picking up shifts to skip out on weekends together. "And what, baby? Don't hold back now." He practically demands, tugging your legs into his lap so you're under the full force of his stare. "And you started skipping weekends with me. Taking shifts when we were supposed to go on dates. Smelling different, like perfume instead of disinfectant." You whisper the last part, staring at your hands in your lap.

He laughs. An actual laugh.

You try to push off of him, but he tugs you until all the fight drains out. "I really fucked this up, haven't I?" He states. Robby almost never swears, so the use of one makes you pay attention. "Will you stop being an asshole and tell me what you mean?" You pout, upset that your emotions are getting brushed off. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip that juts out, tucking it back until he touches your teeth. "Detergent, baby, I swear. They found some awful cheap laundry detergent for our scrubs. I had some bad luck for weeks, fluids on me every day." He reasons, but you refuse to believe it. He knows you too well, of course. Robby tilts your chin until your eyes catch on a box of Rose Detergent for Hospitals, Clinics, and More near the trash can.

"This is what I mean, Michael! This kind of shit was in my head for months but I couldn't talk to you." He sobers instantly, that constant forlorn expression of his making itself known on his face. Robby interlaces your hands, laying his in your lap. Against your will, it grounds you. "The administration had wanted me to do a post-COVID remembrance for all the workers we lost and I just couldn't. Couldn't look at you without being reminded that I lived when so many better people died. I felt like I didn't deserve our happiness, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry." Only when he brushes your face do you realize it's wet. This is what you wanted for months, to hear the thoughts in his head instead of his sarcastic quips or his no-nonsense tone. This was your husband.

He held you to his chest, letting you calm down to the sound of his heartbeat. There's a compulsion under your skin, wanting to bind you two together until you don't know where you end and he begins. Ambulance sirens and pattering footsteps and shouts of pain all fade away when you work your hands through his scruffy beard, admiring the glints of silver that show here and there. "You might be a doctor, but you're an idiot." He nods, letting you curl further into him. "I don't regret divorcing you, because I am not doing your emotional labor for you." Another nod, this one shorter and more serious. "But I'm willing to try again, if you want to. The right way, where we go to counseling and actually talk." Finally, a grin. It changes his entire face, muscle and sinew rearranging into the man you once knew.

He doesn't have to answer. His kiss does it for him.

It's soft and tentative, barely there. A surge of anger sinks through you at how utterly bull-headed he's been. You push into him until his back hits the sofa, climbing him until your pelvises meet in a kiss. You pour months of resentment into your kiss and he meets you halfway, muscles under you tensing as you clash. "You asked to get lawyers." You bite his jaw as you say it, a fact you've been stewing over. "Wanted to make sure you got my money." He squeezes your ass, pulling you into him until you roll your hips over his cock, barely contained by his scrubs. This isn't the place for your first recoupling, but with how the couch is out of the way of the window over the door, and that no one seems to be looking for him, it'll do for now.

"Such a stubborn old man." You gripe, then gasp as he nips your neck. Robby lays kisses to your jaw, trailing down to your neck and sucking hard like a teenager. Broad hands urge your hips to grind, fucking yourself in his lap as you chase satisfaction. It's been so long since you've had an orgasm, every attempt reminding you of Robby. "Pretty sure you used to call me something else, baby." He mutters, one hand leaving your waist to sneak under your sweater. He finds your nipples hardened and achy, pulling one out of your bra cup and rolling it between his fingers. "I only call my husband that." You whine as your clit hits just the right angle of his clothed cock, bucking faster in his lap.

"Everyone around here knows you as my wife." He shoots back, pinching your nipple to emphasize his point. You find the crook of his neck and lay your forehead there, panting as your thighs burn with their ministrations. His hand on your waist flattens, fingers inching closer to your front but not where you need them. It's clear he's waiting for something, his thumb tracing the outline of your panties as he stays there. The longing to give in is too great.

"Please, Daddy. I need to come." You moan, not letting shame make its way into your head. You can feel him grin against you as his thumb finds your clothed clit, rubbing small circles as you keep bucking. It's what you needed, release creeping over you until you collapse in his arms. He moves his hips a few times into you until you complain of overstimulation.

"Think I just came in my pants." He mutters as you pull back. Giggles erupt from you, turning into snorts as you take in the pained expression on his face. Dr. Michael Robinavitch, coming in his pants like a teenager as his wife straddles him.

"Good thing they have scrubs. And a new rose detergent, I heard." You sass, squealing as he pinches your nipple, still cupped in his hand. He rights your clothing as you calm down, tucking your bra back in place and untwisting your leggings. "You're lucky I love you." He pecks your forehead before resting his own against it. You close your eyes in satisfaction, relieved to have filled this year-old hole in your heart. "I love you too, Michael." Your breaths mingle for a few moments, peace in the middle of the most unpeaceful place in Pittsburg.

Someone bangs on the door. Dana smirks at both of you like she predicted this was coming. "Two GSW's on the way, five minutes." You both sigh at getting caught, yet again. At least it was Dana. "Just enough time to get new scrubs." You cheer. He laughs, moving you both to a standing position before pecking your forehead again. "Put your address in my phone." He orders, fishing out his phone from where it fell into the couch cushions. "So forward, Doctor." You laugh as you type into his familiar phone. "I'll be over with takeout around 7:30, Mrs. Robinavitch." You grin.

"With your luck, it'll be 8 o'clock."

"Will you still wait?"

"Always."

-

this got away from me but wow it was necessary

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: book quotes that describe your future relationship

Hello and welcome to this reading! Here I will book quotes that describe your future relationship. I hope you enjoy this reading!

masterpost > paid readings > patreon masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

Pile 1:

“There is no such thing as a perfect relationship, just two people trying their best.” – The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” – A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare

“We are not perfect, but we are perfect for each other.” – The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks

“The best thing about love is that it’s never too late to find it.” – One Day by David Nicholls

“Love isn’t perfect. It’s just love.” – The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

“There’s no such thing as perfect. That’s what makes us beautiful.” – The Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi Kaur

“No one is perfect, that’s why pencils have erasers.” – The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

“I wanted to tell her that there was no such thing as ‘the one,’ that love is an accident, and that sometimes you get lucky and it sticks.” – Looking for Alaska by John Green

“Maybe love is like luck. You have to go all the way to the end of the line before you realize it’s there.” – The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

“If you love someone, you don’t give up on them. You don’t run away from them.” – The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory

extended reading > paid readings

Pile 2:

“We are all a little broken. But last time I checked, broken crayons still color the same.” – The Best of Me by Nicholas Sparks

“It’s about time you stop waiting for the perfect moment, and make the moments perfect.” – The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren

“Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation.” – The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

“Love is about finding someone you can’t live without, and being willing to compromise to make it work.” – Me Before You by Jojo Moyes

“Sometimes the hardest part isn’t letting go but learning to start over.” – The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen

“We loved with a love that was more than love.” – Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

“Love is an endless act of forgiveness. Forgiveness is the key to action and freedom.” – The Long Hard Road to Freedom by Maya Angelou

“The truth is, you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed.” – The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks

“The beauty of love is that it’s not perfect, it’s a compromise. It’s the way two people fit together even when they don’t.” – The Light We Lost by Jill Santopolo

“We are each other’s shelter from the storm.” – Atonement by Ian McEwan

extended reading > paid readings

Pile 3:

“True love is not about perfection, it’s about loving someone through the imperfections.” – The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

“True love is a risk. But it’s a risk worth taking, and no matter how difficult it gets, it’s always worth fighting for.” – The Lucky One by Nicholas Sparks

“The only thing that stands between you and true happiness is yourself.” – The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

“Real love is about finding someone who brings out the best in you, especially when the worst tries to surface.” – Anatomy of a Breakup by Lisa Jacobson

“Love is a battlefield, and every day is a new fight.” – The Hating Game by Sally Thorne

“True love is not always about grand gestures; sometimes it’s just about showing up when the world is falling apart.” – The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman

“True love doesn’t just happen, it’s created through perseverance and patience.” – The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

“We loved each other fiercely, but sometimes love isn’t enough.” – It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover

“I believe that there is a person out there for everyone, but love’s true test is surviving the hardest of times together.” – The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

“I think you fall in love with the person who gives you a sense of safety, even when the world feels uncertain.” – The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

extended reading > paid readings

[pluckyredhead]

Do you think Dick has a favourite brother?

I LOVE THIS QUESTION. I'M GOING TO ANSWER IT AT UNNECESSARY LENGTH.

But for the tl;dr crowd: yes, 1000000%. It's Damian. Dick would not admit this under pain of death, even to himself, but it's Damian.

THE LONG VERSION:

So Dick and Jason are not close and never have been. I always sort of blink in bewilderment when people say they are, or were when Jason was Robin, because they are demonstrably not, and that's what's interesting and tragic about them.

The fact of the matter is that Dick simply wasn't around very much when Jason was Robin. The Doyleist reason for this is that he wasn't really being treated like a Bat character: he was a Titans character, appearing in Titans books, with only the occasional cameo in Batbooks. He and Jason get along very well in Jason's first origin story (when Jason was a circus acrobat and his parents were eaten by crocodiles); in fact, Dick tells Bruce he wants to adopt Jason and Bruce is like "Not if I adopt him first!" But after that, Dick simply...wasn't there very often.

If you need a Watsonian reason for this, it's pretty easy to extrapolate one. Dick and Bruce were not getting along well during this period, so of course Dick would avoid Bruce and Gotham. And yeah, I think it's fair to assume Dick felt some kind of complicated feelings about Bruce having a new Robin, especially post-Crisis when Bruce made Jason Robin without Dick having any say or even a warning that it was going to happen. I tend to headcanon that he resented Jason a little, but was mature enough to know that it wasn't actually Jason's fault, and partially decided to stay away so that he didn't take that out on Jason. But Jason, a smart and sensitive kid, interpreted this as Dick avoiding him because he didn't like him.

And then Jason died.

Dick took that hard, and I think it was less "my brother who I had a close relationship with died" and more "this child followed in my footsteps and it killed him and I wasn't even there for him when I had the chance." To me, that absolutely forms the subtext of the relationship he develops with Tim.

Not at the start. At the start, once "A Lonely Place of Dying" is over, he's as checked out with Tim as he was with Jason. The Doyleist reason is the same - Dick literally just wasn't supposed to be in Batbooks too much - but the way it plays out is sometimes really funny in an awful way. Like in and just after Knightfall, when Bruce gets his back broken by Bane and is like "I've known Jean-Paul Valley for two weeks and he barely has any training, most of it done by my extremely new 13-year-old Robin...I think I'll make him Batman." And then Tim's dad and Tim's dad's doctor, Shondra Kinsolving, get kidnapped, and since Bruce has been aggressively romantically pursuing Shondra to the point of it being uncomfortable and inappropriate, he's like "Okay going to rescue Shondra! I mean, your dad! I'm taking Alfred with me! Tim, you're in charge of Gotham and Jean-Paul byeeeeee!" And then JPV immediately gets unhinged and violent and tries to kill Tim and Tim keeps calling Alfred like "Um can you please come back and help" and Alfred's like "No" and Tim's like "Okay well did you at least rescue my dad?" and Alfred's like "Also no." Anyway Dick finally comes to Gotham and Tim is like "THANK GOD, HELP, BRUCE MADE AZRAEL BATMAN AND HE'S TRYING TO KILL EVERYONE, I NEED AN ADULT" and Dick is like "He made someone who isn't me Batman??? 😡😡😡" and then just...fucks off back to New York and leaves Tim to deal with it. Very out of character, VERY funny.

BUT ANYWAY. Then we get to around 1996 and 1. Dick is no longer on the Titans which has a whole new lineup and 2. there's an editorial shift emphasizing the Batfamily. This is where the line really expands: Robin (started in 1993, but still pretty new), Nightwing, Birds of Prey, Azrael, eventually Gotham Knights in 1999 and Batgirl in 2000. Dick moves to Bludhaven and spends way more time in Gotham.

This is when Dick looks at Tim, says "Is anyone gonna big brother that?" and doesn't wait for an answer. All of a sudden he's behaving in a way that suddenly feels in character for him (although the idea of Dick as a big brother/mentor...really wasn't a thing for him prior to this era, so it's more of a new development that feels correct in retrospect). He's training Tim, he's giving him advice, he's teasing him about girls, he's coming up with inside jokes, he's giving him noogies. It's like he watched a bunch of 80s sitcoms to learn how to be a big brother and applied his research accordingly.

And Tim? Tim absolutely blossoms under the attention. Tim, who has been adultified by every other adult in his life since he was, like, eight, is getting treated like a kid. Tim, whose parents are never around, and don't pay attention when they are around, has an adult he looks up to who wants to spend time with him, for fun. Tim, who has hero worshipped Dick Grayson since he was...well, according to the math, he was one (1) year old so let's ignore the math, but he was small, is now basking in the full force of Dick Grayson's off-the-charts charisma. This is the best thing that has ever happened to Tim. This is the dream.

I want to be clear here: I think Dick's extreme reversal here is a delayed reaction to Jason's death, but I don't want to imply that he doesn't care about Tim as an individual. He loves Tim as much as Tim loves him. Tim's good opinion is incredibly important to him. This relationship goes both ways.

Annnnd then both of their lives fall apart extremely rapidly, and Damian shows up, and Bruce dies. And Dick tries to get out of it, but ultimately it ends how it has to: with him accepting the mantle of Batman, and responsibility for Damian.

The relationship Dick has with Damian is nothing like the relationship Dick has with Tim. Tim is his little bro. Damian is his baby. He's fourteen years older than Damian and as much of a parent figure as a sibling figure. And Damian is difficult and exhausting but Dick slowly, slowly coaxes a degree of trust and affection out of him that even Bruce will never achieve. And he can only do that by making Damian Robin, which means Tim has to stop being Robin.

This is where Dick and Tim fall apart, because what they need in this very vulnerable moment is so diametrically opposed, and neither of them are wrong. To Dick, asking Tim to step down - or up, from Dick's perspective - from being Robin is a compliment. Dick fought to free himself from Bruce, to become his own man with his own name, and so asking Tim to do the same thing is a show of faith in Tim, in his skills and experience.

Whereas Tim's hero-worship has always been for Robin, not Batman, and every glimpse he has had of a future beyond Robin has always been a dystopia. But more importantly, Tim has just lost his father, his stepmother, his mentor, his girlfriend, and his two best friends. He desperately needs to be able to lean on Dick, the grown-up he admires the most, and instead, Dick is kicking him out of the nest.

In other words: Dick is saying, with all the love and trust in his heart, "I need you to help me by being a fellow adult." And Tim is saying, with all the love and trust in his heart, "But I need you to be my adult." And they both get a no.

This is water under the bridge now, and they've healed even though they've never really talked it through because Bats don't do that (although what I wouldn't give for a Nightwing/Red Robin miniseries where they do everything but talk about it). But I do think Tim looks at the closeness and affection between Dick and Damian and feels some kind of way about it to this day, because it's so clear to everyone that Damian is Dick's favorite...but Tim remembers when he was Dick's favorite. And what Tim doesn't see is that Dick values him as a genuine partner in a way he will never quite achieve with Damian, because to him, Damian will always be his baby, even more so than he is Bruce's. (Dick is Bruce's baby, actually, not Damian. In this essay I will...)

(I could see a really interesting dynamic developing between Jason and Tim here, as the ones on the outside of that mutual appreciation society, but sadly the comics have never gone there. Alas.)

Finally, I think the relationship between Dick and Duke is very much "I just work here." Like, Dick is grown, he's out of the house, he's largely matured past the Bat-drama. He likes Duke but he doesn't feel the compulsion to brother him the way he did with Tim, and Duke doesn't need the mother henning Damian did.

IN CONCLUSION, and hooboy, sorry anon, most of this wasn't at all the question you asked:

Duke and Dick get along fine but aren't particularly close.

Damian is Dick's precious baby and always will be, even when Damian is an adult and annoyed by this treatment (but privately kind of loves it because he is a princess at heart).

Tim is Dick's buddy, his pal, his equal. If Dick were ever going to talk something through with a sibling, it would be Tim. (But that would require Dick admitting that everything isn't perfect or asking for help, so it'll never happen.)

Jason and Dick can't be in a room together for five minutes without fighting and Dick finds him wildly frustrating, but they will throw down for each other. When they aren't punching each other.

(And to answer the corollary: Damian's favorite brother is Dick. Tim's favorite brother is also Dick. Duke's favorite brother is Tim by default, since he doesn't know Dick very well and Jason and Damian are both too annoying, but really he's closest with Cass. Jason's favorite brother is Ace and he has communicated that often and loudly (but really it's probably also Dick).)

[rainrot4me]

*pushes my nerd glasses up* you wrote LJ saying the word fanfiction, does he. does he read fanfiction.

Also what kind of books do the rest of the creeps read :3 HOPING TO SEE SLENDER <3333

✦ . jeff the killer

Genre: Dark thrillers, true crime, and weirdly intense romance novels (but he’ll die before admitting it).

He reads Fight Club and American Psycho like they’re autobiographies.

You catch him with a dog-eared copy of a raunchy dark romance once, and he just shrugs and goes,

“It’s got knives in it. I can relate.”

He likes manga. Especially violent seinen series like Berserk or Tokyo Ghoul.

✦ . ticci toby

Genre: Graphic novels, horror comics, psychological thrillers.

His brain doesn’t love big blocks of text, so he gravitates toward visual storytelling.

Junji Ito is his god.

Reads horror manga and creepy short story anthologies under the covers like a middle schooler with a flashlight.

Secret soft spot for children’s books from when he was little. Sometimes rereads Coraline or The Graveyard Book when no one’s around.

✦ . eyeless jack

Genre: Medical textbooks, classic literature, Gothic horror.

Reads Frankenstein and Dracula like they’re comforting bedtime stories.

Has a shelf full of pathology and anatomy books with pages marked and notes in the margins.

Also quietly enjoys poetry—especially the bleak kind.

“The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.” He pauses, “…Did Pascal say that or did I just make that up?”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Genre: Crime fiction, survival manuals, and conspiracy theory paperbacks.

Think The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Stephen King, and weird militia zines.

Writes notes in every margin like he’s preparing for a field test.

Not above reading dense political thrillers that feel like work. But secretly… he really likes John Green novels.

“They’re depressing and feel like dying. It’s perfect.”

✦ . hoody (brian thomas)

Genre: Philosophy, history, and… frat memoirs (from the “old days”).

Reads like he’s trying to become a tragic antihero. Thinks The Stranger by Camus is “comforting.”

Smokes while reading The Art of War.

Also has an insane shelf of old Greek tragedies and Nietzsche.

“Suffering is art. So are keg stands.”

✦ . kate the chaser

Genre: Military thrillers, dystopian fiction, survival handbooks.

The Hunger Games, but she roots for the Career tributes.

Has read The Road five times and didn’t cry once.

Keeps The Art of War (borrowed from Hoody) and Women Who Run With the Wolves next to each other on her nightstand.

Occasionally reads romance… but only if someone dies at the climax.

✦ . ben drowned

Genre: Cyberpunk, game-based novels, and spicy fanfic.

Ready Player One is his Bible, but he hates the ending.

Has read Homestuck. Won’t elaborate.

Spends hours on AO3 reading Link/Reader fics and then roasts them.

“God, this is awful—keep going. I want to see if they make me the top again.”

✦ . clockwork

Genre: Mystery thrillers, feminist horror, and true crime.

Loves Gillian Flynn (Gone Girl is her personality).

Eats up revenge stories with ruthless female leads.

Also digs supernatural horror like The Silent Patient or The Haunting of Hill House.

Has a soft spot for Sylvia Plath and writes angsty poetry in the margins.

✦ . laughing jack

Genre: Fanfiction, horror satire, and circus-themed horror.

Favorite book is Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Obsessively reads fanfiction and smut. He’ll quote it at you.

“And then the clown used the merri-go-round as a torture machine… I mean, come on! Brilliant stuff.”

Enjoys weird bizarro fiction like House of Leaves or anything by Chuck Palahniuk.

✦ . slenderman

Genre: Ancient philosophy, high fantasy, and eldritch horror (like reading a mirror).

Reads The Divine Comedy in Latin for fun.

LOVES The Silmarillion and will absolutely compare himself to Melkor.

His bookshelf is filled with tomes that hurt your eyes to look at too long. Sometimes reads old spellbooks just to remember “the good old days.”

“Cicero was a bore. Plato had potential.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[thesecretdcblog]

Do you have any batfamily headcanons?

BOY DO I EVER-

I'll go in age order for simplicity's sake.

I tend to base headcanons off people I know in real life, and also what I think makes sense for the character

Bruce

- Hella autistic

- Constantly mixing up his kids' names (based off my grandad, who had seven kids with my nan)

- Exposure to the bats in the Batcave has lessened his fear of them but not completely gotten rid of it

- One of those celebrities that always have the wildest stories to tell on those late night talk shows

- Huge ABBA fan

- Bisexual with no gender preference

- Duke once showed him an 'eat the rich' meme and he took it seriously enough to apologise for being a billionaire on twitter. He became a meme.

- Great at dancing, prefers slower ballroom dances

- Sometimes on quiet nights, he and Selina will dance on rooftops together

- Doesn't know how much things cost, gets memed on by his kids for this

Duke: How much is a loaf of bread?

Bruce: (internally) this is a trap (outwardly) ...$12?

Duke: *starts wheezing*

Babs

- Half Irish, Half Puerto-Rican

- Metalhead

- Loves big dogs, the bigger the better

- Wants a borzoi one day

- Doesn't want to be the mum friend and yet

- Cass and Steph are her favourites

- Allergic to birds

- Swears like a sailor

- Dad joke connoisseur

- Will roll her wheelchair over people's feet if they annoy her

Dick

- Will square up at the drop of a hat, especially if his siblings are involved. Don't test him.

- Undiagnosed ADHD, everyone knows he has it but he doesn't care enough to get tested

- He learns languages for fun. Pick a language, he probably speaks it, and if he isn't fluent he will be in a week.

- Can cook but gets distracted most of the time so he ends up missing an ingredient or skipping an important step or accidentally burning it

- Contortionist level flexibility (might be canon I don't remember)

- Had a MySpace account

- Pulls out circus skills at the most random times

Someone: we need a distraction

Dick: Say no more

Someone: Where did you get a unicycle?

- The actual coffee addict in the family

- Cries during any Disney movie

- Bisexual with a preference to women

Cass

- Can technically cook, but doesn't care about flavour so if left to her own devices she's making plain rice and unseasoned chicken (I do this irl)

- Twins with Tim (similar build + hairstyle)

- Is a couple months older than Jason

- Probably has a weird pet like a tarantula with the most cutesy name like Buttons or Princess

- Favourite ballet role is the Rat King in The Nutcracker

- Selective mutism but also uses it to get out of speaking to people she doesn't like

- Favourite sibling is Tim

- Loves capybaras - they're her favourite animal

- Biromantic demisexual

- Can't drive a car but can drive a motorcycle lol

Jason

- Quarter Native American and White on his mother's side, half Peruvian on his father's side

- The best cook in the family after Alfred and also stress bakes

- Never actually apologised for the Titans Tower incident, doesn't want to bring it up because it's been so long and it'll be awkward. He's pretty sure Tim doesn't even care that much (Tim doesn't but would still like an apology out of principle) (based off my two brothers, the older broke the younger's arm and never apologised. Younger is still bitter)

- Is that one insufferable person that complains about book to movie adaptations and how "it was better in the book"

- Aromantic-asexual but isn't aware of it just yet

- Plays Neopets

- Unironically listens to bubblegum pop

- Got a teaching license solely to fuck with Tim, and later Duke and Damian

- Recites Shakespeare to annoy goons with the audacity to kidnap him

- Very physically affectionate but holds back due to fear of rejection

Tim

- Half Russian, half Vietnamese (I think it was starrykitty013 who wrote a couple Russian Tim fics and I love the idea so much). And I don't remember who the artist is but I saw some Vietnamese Tim art and love that as well. So combine the two. (Edit: Artist is @/Axiliern)

- Sneaks out every now and then to go perform as a drag queen at a gay bar. All the tips he makes get donated to queer and youth charities.

- Has a bunch of random skills from either High Society Expectations(tm) or random shit he picked up while in boarding school or just living in Drake Manor by himself.

- Such skills including but not limited to: horse riding, playing the accordion, dancing, skateboarding, surfing, snowboarding (anything with a board), tennis etc

- Can cook but doesn't like to cook for himself, he will only do it if he's feeding multiple people. If he's eating alone he'd rather just order takeaway

- The Worst Road Rage

- When Jack started getting better they bought an old muscle car to fix up together and it's one of Tim's best memories with his dad. He still has the car.

- Not a coffee addict, but he is a soft drink/energy drink addict

- One time on a family vacation to Bondi Beach, he got stung by a blue bottle and it was one of the worst things he's ever experienced and he's been stabbed on multiple occasions

- Had a scene kid phase. With the side fringe and everything.

- Also had a MySpace account and found Dick's account. He also has a Tumblr account where he posts his photography

Steph

- Also had a scene kid phase

- Has a Tumblr. Mutuals with Tim

- Has German ancestry from Crystal's side but struggles to learn the language

- Undiagnosed ADHD because her parents couldn't afford the test

- Huge fan of Kesha. Went to see her live once with Tim and almost passed out from excitement (based off my best friend)

- Really obsessed with fish and has like 3 aquariums in her apartment

- Used to go swing dancing with Tim when they dated and she really enjoyed it so she just kept going even after they broke up

- Puts stickers on everything

- Favourite ice cream flavour is dulce de leche

- Allergic to honey

Duke

- Heteroflexible (Makes "I'm not gay but $20 is $20" jokes

- Redditor but solely to read the AITA subreddit

- Somehow gets away with everything, despite personally giving Bruce at least 5 new grey hairs

- Will start arguments because he's bored

- Bullies Dick for being a cop

- Was a dinosaur kid (still is a dinosaur kid)

- Learned to sing in the church choir (I did and I'm projecting)

- Will throw hands if someone leaves a room without turning the light off or leaves his room and doesn't close the door

- No PR training and refuses any and all attempts to make him do it

- Loves 90s and 2000s music

Damian

- Actually did eventually apologise to Tim for trying to kill him (Tim called him a wuss for it though)

- Constantly complaining about not being able to drive the Batmobile

- Vegetarian, and will tell you the differences between vegetarianism and veganism

- Will pull the "Baby of The Family" card to get his way

- Autistic as fuck. Special interests include animals and horror games.

- Knows all the FNAF lore

- Wants to be a veterinarian

- Calls his siblings by nicknames in Arabic, but hasn't yet caught on that they all speak Arabic at least a little

- Warrior cats kid

- Currently trying to convince Bruce to get him a horse, and some more cows so BatCow has some friends

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

It will always stay with me that Joker and Ciel never resented each other, they understood one another too well to even blame each other for how things fell apart. (Confirmed by Yana herself btw.)

Joker and o!Ciel are in a way, to sides of the same coin, both of them sacrifice and strample on others in order to gain the goal they long for.

While Joker resorts to extreme measures, kidnapping children to fulfill Kelvin's demands and, in turn, protect the kids back in the workhouse, o!Ciel similarly crushes lives beneath him in pursuit of his vengeance.

The imagery speaks for itself: the young earl is often portrayed atop a throne of corpses, a chilling symbol of the destruction left in his wake.

And it's quite intresting, that during the main confrontation in book of circus, our earl was cruel to Baron Kelvin (as he mf should!!) yet he refrained from mocking Joker.

As Yana Toboso notes: "However, he didn’t say anything about Joker. He neither called him stupid nor foolish. He just calmly confirmed the facts with him. This is because Joker and his crew were aware of their own foolishness - and so was Ciel. Thus he didn’t say anything that would rub salt into the wound."

I really like that o!Ciel "calmly confirmed the facts with him." especially considering that his first response after Joker admitted he knew what he was doing was wrong was to directly challenge that reasoning. And no, I’m not saying our earl condones the kidnapping of children—but he does understand where Joker’s morality and intentions come from.

Joker doesn’t want to kidnap children; he feels trapped by a toxic sense of duty to repay the Baron’s debt. On top of that, without Kelvin’s financial support, neither the circus nor the workhouse would be able to survive.

In a way, o!Ciel sees a reflection of himself in Joker: someone bound by duty, guilt, and a sense of debt. He too is trapped, only his chains take the form of a contract with Sebastian, forged in the aftermath of unimaginable trauma and fueled by the need for revenge against those who destroyed his family.

And I think it’s clear that, just like Joker, o!Ciel doesn’t necessarily find any thrill in trampling over others. However, unlike Joker, who still clings to a sense of family, emotional bonds, and the illusion of doing the wrong thing for the right reason, o!Ciel has learned to detach himself emotionally.

He justifies cruelty as a necessity, a tool for survival and justice. Where Joker hesitates, burdened by conscience and affection, o!Ciel acts decisively, even ruthlessly, because he’s already accepted that innocence and morality were luxuries stolen from him the moment his world fell apart.

It’s bittersweet how, in his own way, o!Ciel tries to console Joker by telling him not to cry. There’s a quiet kind of empathy in the way he states that the world isn’t kind to anyone. And in that moment, when Joker looks at him with a faint yet sorrowful smile, it’s clear he understands, perhaps better than anyone, that the earl isn’t just talking about him. o!Ciel is speaking from his own tragedy, his own loss.

There’s something so human in the way they mirror each other: both bound by duty, both driven by grief, and both trying to find meaning in a world that’s taken too much from them.

In that small exchange; Joker’s smile, Ciel’s words, they meet not as enemies, but as mearly two people who saw through each other.

They also share a quiet kind of sympathy for one another, as if both recognize the foolishness in the paths they’ve taken. Deep down, they both know that the cost of their choices is far heavier than they’d like to admit.

And that was their last exchange, a softly deafening mutal understanding.

Joker knew about o!Ciel’s past—Baron Kelvin had told him. He was aware of the horrific abuse the boy had endured, of how deeply he’d been dehumanized. Our earl was treated as an object of exploitation by older men, just as Joker and the rest of the circus troupe had been used and abused by Kelvin.

In that shared history of being used, manipulated, and discarded by those in power, there’s a grim reflection. They were both victims of the same cruelty, forced to survive in whatever way they could.

And after eliminating the circus, o!Ciel chooses to visit the orphanage: the very place Joker and the troupe had fought so desperately to protect. Despite everything, he intends to ensure its survival, even planning to secure a sponsor to fund it.

Joker protected his brothers and sisters back in the orphanage while kidnapping children for the baron, feeling extremely guilty in doing so, o!Ciel parallels this by perserving the workhouse in order to ease his guilt for killing Joker and the circus trope.

And when he arrives to the workhouse, well, we know what happens. There orphange was empty, provong Joker's sacrifices futile in the end. In the same way, o!Ciel’s quest for revenge will prove meaningless.

Both their struggles, though driven by pain and hope, lead to hollow victories in a world that keeps taking more than it gives.

It's important to highlight that before o!Ciel spirals into a maniac laughing tangent about how corrupt humanity is, his thought's immedietly flash to both Doll and Joker, two people in the circus trope whom he connected with in different ways.

As he recalls them, he envisions their screams and cries, desperately trying to protect the orphanage that, as we already know, no longer exists. This haunting image fuels his fury and despair, a raw reminder of all that was lost despite their sacrifices.

In that moment, his rage is not just aimed at the world’s cruelty, but also at himself, for failing to save what mattered, for being trapped in a cycle of destruction and vengeance.

The memories of Doll and Joker become ghosts that both torment and motivate him, pushing him deeper into his chaotic spiral while silently mourning the innocence that slipped away.

That loss of innocence is what i still, to this day, believe that o!Ciel's ribbon that got blown away from the wind symbolizes, this also explains why Sebastian, the ever-so-perfect butler, lets his instincts take over and doesn’t even try to catch that single strand of innocence.

As a demon who takes a twisted pleasure in o!Ciel’s suffering, he’d rather see the boy lose that innocence completely than hold onto it.

Besides Yana's commentary on Joker and o!Ciel's quiet connection, I really do like how Yana specifically highlight's that o!Ciel feels incredibly guilty about what went down in the circus. Specifically how the memories of Joker and Doll continue to haunt him and even influence some of his choices.

If he couldn’t sustain Joker’s vision for the workhouse, then taking in one of Joker and Doll’s beloved family members into his household was his way of holding onto something meaningful, an attempt to preserve a connection to the people he feels responsible for.

Also I want to point out how despite o!Ciel's refusal of being called Smile by Joker, stating how "a servant shall not speak to him with such familiarities"

yet...

here is Snake (a servant) reffering to o!Ciel as Smile. And our earl allows him to, and i think this acceptance of the name represents sort of a fresh start for o!Ciel, a way to make some sort of amends with the past.

But even after employing Snake, his past actions continue to mess with him, no matter how tightly he holds his composure, the past keeps finding ways to slip through the cracks.

During the Green witch arc, Joker tourments o!Ciel with the words, "do you want everything to be yours?" forcing him to confront the selfishness and moral ambiguity of his goals.

Joker, even in death, lingers as a voice of guilt and conscience, reminding o!Ciel that the path he walks is paved with sacrifice.

o!Ciel will never seem to let go of the weight of Joker and Doll's deaths, he just continuously represses them as a coping mechanism.

To finish this all up, I just want to say how much I adore the way Joker and Doll (characters who only appear in a single arc) continue to bleed through the cracks of the story, seeping into o!Ciel’s psyche in such a compelling way.

Their presence lingers like a ghost, not just in memory, but in the way they quietly shape his guilt, his choices, and the parts of himself he tries so hard to suppress.