#final kid

[chloesimaginationthings]

Poppy playtime got a guy worse than William Afton

[konakoro]

POV: your theater just saw a 10-year-old boy get squashed by a falling piano

[siriusly-dc]

The boys are fighting

Tim: AT LEAST I DONT STAB PEOPLE FOR HAVING A DIFFERENT FAVOURITE CEREAL

Damian: YEAH WELL FATHER SHOULD HAVE ABORTED YOU AND YOUR WRONG OPINIONS

*silence*

Dick:… Dami… did you forget that Tim’s adopted

Jason: this is the best day of my life

Duke: right of passage I fear

Bruce: *is on concussion number five of the week and it’s only Wednesday trying to remember if he gave birth to Tim or not* what?

Just the Batkids forgetting that most of them are adopted when fighting

Bruce birthed those kids r u kidding me they all look like freaky ass clones of him

[enidtendo64]

TW: Heavily implied Child Abuse

Stowaway AU where Pacifica becomes a stowaway on the Stan-O-War 2 after trying to run away from home to California. Things don’t exactly work out as planned, but at least she’s got a “Summer Internship” away from her parents now!

[lazylittledragon]

i'm many days late but happy father's day <33

[just-a-joey]

I feel like if Coolkid wasn’t scared if John (thanks 7n7) they’d enjoy play fighting and rough housing.

[azolitmin]

♜ ♞ ♝ ♛ ♚ ♞ ♝ ♜

[zephyrchama]

A thin line of table salt adorned the floor in front of your bedroom. You stood behind it and stared at the demons outside of your doorway. They were staring at the salt.

Leviathan laughed. It reminded him of a low-level defense from a tower defense game. "Is that supposed to keep us out? lol."

"Yeah. I think it's working," you said.

Satan put a hand on his hip. As far as he could tell, it was plain old table salt. No magical properties whatsoever. "How so?"

"Well, none of you are crossing it. Clearly, it's having some kind of effect."

Mammon balked. "Obviously, it's because we're respectin' your privacy!" He stood closest to the line, wanting to cross it most of all.

"You're respecting my privacy by... standing right outside my door?"

Mammon opened his mouth to counter, only to come up with nothing. He stood there with his fists clenched. The feather on his belt swayed as he tapped a foot impatiently, causing the nearest salt to shift a little.

The noise annoyed Asmodeus. "Mammon, go walk through the salt."

"Why me!?"

"This is ridiculous." Lucifer crossed his arms. "Clean this up. I don't even want to know how this will damage the floors if you leave it."

"It's not even doing anything," Satan pointed out.

"If it's not doing anything, then one of you should cross it," you suggested.

"Why don't you come out to us?" Belphegor proposed. "There's only one of you, seems more fair."

"Yeah!" Asmodeus took a step away from the salt, careful not to get any on his shoes, and raised his hands. "You can run into my arms if you'd like. I'll be sure to catch you."

Their stubbornness astounded you. "Or... You guys can just admit you don't want to cross this salt."

"It's regular salt." Beelzebub knew exactly what the substance was as soon as he laid eyes on it. Plus, the smell was unmistakable. His claim was irrefutable.

"Yes, exactly. Thank you, Beel. I've seen you eat it many times." You had even taken the bag from the shared kitchen.

"Did you try walking over it?" Leviathan asked. "How are we supposed to cross it if you won't?"

"I don't need to. I'm in my room."

"You should come to our room," Belphegor offered. He was getting tired of standing around.

"Come out this instant," Lucifer ordered.

You thought about it for a whopping two seconds. "I think I'm good. I'll be in my room. If any of you need me, feel free to come in."

You retreated back inside with the rest of the half-empty salt bag. The brothers stared at you with a mix of impatience and disbelief until the wall blocked you from view.

[who-the-fuck-are-you-bruh]

[fact-dogsarehappiness]

Another reason why I’m a firm believer in letting Bruce get old is because the idea of him looking and his dark haired children without his glasses on and genuinely not being able to tell them apart is unparalleled

[prlssprfctn]

Somewhere in the year after Jason becomes a part of Bruce's family, a strange book appears on the desk of Bruce's personal study room. A book about parenting traumatised kids. He opens it, leafs though a little, noticing certain phrases underlined, and closes it back. Alfred probably left it. Just a few days ago, they had a short argument regarding his parenting methods, and he seemingly tried to prove his point by additional literature. Bruce is going to read it later.

...He doesn't have time, actually, and eventually, the book stays forgotten, tucked between many others.

Years pass. Jason dies. And then comes back, complicated and different, frustrating and hard to crack. Thinking about Jason — a habit, always a habit — becomes some kind of roulette: he either remembers something nice, comes up with some courage to talk with his son, at least through comms, at least not directly, or the exact opposite thing happens, sending them both out of balance.

It is the middle of cleaning day, when Alfred suddenly picks up the exact same book about children victims and how to take care of them, and to Bruce's surprise asks where does this book come from.

'What do you mean?' Bruce frowns. 'You gave it to me when I just adopted Jason. Well, not gave, I would say tactically sneaked in, but...'

'I would remember that,' Alfred frowns. He goes through a few pages, and his face softens. 'It wasn't me, master Bruce.'

And suddenly, it clicks.

*Jason* left it. He underlined lines that probably felt relatable to him, that maybe could help them both in their new, hard journey. A shy kid he was, though, very smart, he would never actually speak with Bruce directly — he would try to leave him hints. To open up more in a subtle way.

To—

Oh.

Bruce suddenly can imagine his little son overhearing his late argument with Alfred that day, all these years ago. Mulling over, "this kid is deeply traumatised, master Bruce" and "well, I can't get inside his head, Al" lines. Figuring out how to easen his burden. How to be understood and yet accepted.

And Bruce... unknowingly discarded that.

As usual.

Unknowingly, cluelessly, and yet so simply — he discarded everything that was dear to Jason, everything that meant something for him.

As he grips the book in his hands, caressing the soft cover, he can't help but wonder if any of the information inside, little highlights Jason did, are still working for him. If he still can fix it.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Springtrap found his new kid in dead by daylight

[xpurplepiex]

neoliberal temptress

[canisalbus]

Oh a little fluffy gold puppy looking up at the scary man in the portrait their father keeps in his office... 🥺

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[keferon]

Don’t mind me I just like to see him go bananas about cartoonish Autobot rules

Maaan…..if Prowl was in tfp he would spontaneously combust at least once a day