babiestbubbles

[babiestbubbles]

Just a little reminder to anyone perceiving my new Batman content that I do run a Batman Agere server!! So any, readers, writers, artists, kiddos, and the like are all welcome to join! (Just a warning though it is 16+)

[babiestbubbles]

Dick yearning for the father/son Dynamic with Damian, doing everything in his power to try and give this boy the childhood he was robbed of And not understanding where he's failing/why the Kid clings to Jason instead

Dick not understanding why Damian doesn't reciprocate all of his attempts to bond/be familial in any way. Not understanding why Damian's guard is still up and he's still resentful towards anyone but Jason.

Damian, who's been here 6 months and has heard nothing but ill words and insults all aimed at the woman who raised him and the only family he's ever known.

Dick's entire rhetoric and goal being to "give him the childhood he never had" versus Damian, who in truth didn't get the childhood he deserved but wasn't tortured and abused the way they think. Damian who was essentially just raised in a strict household, except instead of academic pressure it was pressure to become a great assassin.

Damian who has fond memories and still loves his mother, who misses his home more often than not even months after he moved to Gotham.

Damian who's surrounded by people who keep dismissing his words. Telling him he was abused and brainwashed. That his mother didn't love him, that family isn't supposed to do that. That it was all abuse and manipulation.

And all he has is Todd, who knows the truth, to cling to. Todd who's considered to be brainwashed too. Todd who's word has less weight than the corrupted Gotham police. Todd the outcast and the traitor and the enemy.

Todd who's never once tried to convince Damian that his mother did not love him. Who may have denounced their methods, their rhetoric, their agenda, hell their morals. But has NEVER questioned for even a moment, the love Ra's and Talia have for Damian.

Because every scar on the boy's body has a story of Talia, screaming at Ra's for letting the boy get hurt. Of tears dripping down her chin as shaky hands sew together torn flesh.

They did not mean to hurt him. It was an act of misguided love. And the Waynes will never understand that.

[babiestbubbles]

Me explaining that the true tragedy of batman is that we've become so caught up in this idea of depicting reality and emulating realism, that we've lost what batman truly is

He's a symbol.

He's not supposed to be realistic, you're not supposed to go out there and think "Wow he reacted to that just like anyone else would." He's supposed to be better.

He's a hero.

You got so lost in playing with themes and having him torn between justice and morality that he's lost who he is entirely.

You don't want batman, you're not writing batman. You've taken his name, and his skeleton and you've written your own wretched characters with blurred lines and lethal force.

And in the process you've tarnished the reputation of something that was only ever meant exist as a symbol of hope.

I'm not saying write batman happy, I'm not saying write batman as nice. I'm saying DON'T write batman as what he's not.

Look at the old shows. Batman was MEAN, Batman was SCARY. And yet. He didn't hurt Harley. He didn't (purposefully/needlessly) traumatize his children or put his work and some twisted sense of right and wrong before them.

You can write Batman as weird, and emotionally stunted, and complex, and MESSY Without mischaracterizing him and erasing who he is and what he stands for. And I'm not claiming to be an expert on that. It's HARD. It's a hard thing to do. But that's the point. That's the point of writing, of creating stories. Is putting work into understanding the characters you're working with, the world you're writing in, and having that effort reflected in the quality of your writing.

[babiestbubbles]

Reblogging this post from my main bc it didn't get traction but it's important to me!! Please please please take culture and harmful stereotypes into account when writing characters. Representation is ALWAYS important and just because you aren't affected by something doesn't mean the rest of the world isn't!

Thinking abt the unnecessary antagonization of Talia al Ghul 😔 Like wow jeez make the female Arabic character evil and corrupt and part of an extremist organization… Make her evil and manipulative and conniving, villainize her and label her as consciously malicious Now take Dick, a white passing character, and idolize him Even as talon or when villainized, he's calculated and romanticized and excused Dick Grayson gets to be excusably blood thirsty and revenge seeking because if we squint hard enough he's basically a pretty white boy But Talia al Ghul comes from a Line of psychopaths and assassins The wretchedness is in her blood, in her ethnicity She was made to be mean and messy and unlovable /how I feel reading ppls characterizations of her

Like, you can write a poc villan w/o playing into stereotypes and just, unnecessarily adding harmful characterization

This goes for comic writers AND fanfic writers Same deal with people painting Damian (An Arabic Character) as "feral" Specifically him on his lonesome

If you're talking about him being "feral" or unpredictable, childish, and chaotic You can do so without playing into stereotypes, *but* a key aspect of doing so is recognizing these traits in the Characters around him as well Sure make him a feral little monster, but you can't do that and then make Tim and Dick, prodigy children golden boys horrified by this creature of a child

No, if you’re writing feral Damian, it’s not even that it's harmful to write him being gawked at in horror for his behavior It’s that it doesn’t make sense If you’re taking this looser, or sillier interpretation of the character, you can’t cherry pick the characters You need to take the time to acknowledge Tim, Lives alone and spends his spare time memorizing floor plans Drake, and Dick, has Broken more than 7 Vases doing Unnecessary acrobatics in the house, Grayson wouldn’t be gawking in horror they’d be gawking in awe It makes so much more sense to write Tim as curious, fascinated, hell- JEALOUS, that Damian frequently uses the ventilation system as a playground It makes so much more sense to write Dick as excited by Damian’s flexibility and agility He finally has someone to train with, who can match his specialized style of acrobatic combat It’s the blatant antagonization of these characters that has me on the floor gang, it's the

Antagonization for actions and circumstances out of their control

Antagonization for characteristics that are dismissed when it comes to other (especially white passing or popular Hero-coded) characters

I might write more about positive Arab thematics and fun Non-Harmful/Stereotypical ways you can write Arab characters.

[babiestbubbles]

Daredevil Agere Headcanons

Because I can.

Matt - All ranges. He literally does not have a headspace range, his regression is unpredictable which is a wild ride, but it's fun. He's usually somewhere below 10, if it's been a rough few days below 5, but even within those ranges he's slipping and sliding a whole lot sometimes.

FIGHTS HIS REGRESSION. ALL THE TIME. LIKE AN IDIOT. Foggy and Karen get after him for it, but he remains unbothered. "I don't want it, so I'm not gonna feed into it" "THAT'S NOT HOW THIS WORKS MATT" On the bright side, at least he lets them take care of him, even if it's only when he deems it convenient.

Has a slight favoritism for Karen because of her motherly nature. She's super coddly and talks to him in this baby voice that just makes him so happy and embarrassed and little all at the same time (Foggy isn't bothered by this in the slightest.) But there's really almost no favoritism at all. He loves them both to pieces and makes sure they know it at all times. He's SUPER clingy and constantly dragging them into things with him. The makes them play with him and his toys, feeds them pieces of his snacks, and is always attached to at least one of their sides (if not in between both of them) during every movie night or show he's watching. Frank - Was lowkey judgey abt it at first glance and freaked tf outta Matt. But then couldn't stop thinking abt the look in his eyes and how starkly different he looked from the reserved, serious, seemingly always stressed Matt. He's still reluctant about the whole thing, a mix of trying to understand and a fear of messing it all up. He's only allowed to talk to little Matt this Foggy or Karen as a buffer because they entirely don't trust him.

Matt secretly really likely Frank visits bc Frank is the only one who can easily pick him up and it makes him feel really little.

Foggy - Found out first and has been a lifelong supporter of Matt's regression. Is lowkey a bigger supporter of Matt's regression than Matt is at this point haha. Genuinely thinks of little Matt as his baby, will find toys in the store and be like "Baby Matt would love this :("

Spoils tf out of Matt, regressed Matt can get away with pretty much anything because Foggy is so lenient, Karen always lectures him on this. Buys him literally anything he wants ever, his first Christmas where Matt was openly regressing he was so excited to spoil his baby. (Karen was jealous)

Actually has to fight not to explode when Mark picks him over Karen. There's no genuine competition or anything but when Matt feed HIM a piece of fruit? or wants HIS cuddles during movie night? BOOM his heart might give out.

Guys he has that motherly instinct in him, that's his baby

Karen - Was nervous when she found out Matt regressed, not because she didn't support him but because she thought she'd be really bad at caregiving. She'd never even babysat before, so she was entirely convinced that any caregiving attempts would be a disaster, but she found out very quickly that loving little Matt was as easy as breathing.

It's practically instinct for her to drop into that baby-talk voice, to tickle Matt and play games with him and cut up fruit for him. And it definitely helps that Matt is super receptive to her, even when she's visibly nervous, he'll lean into her like a cat cooing or drag her into a game. That always snaps her out of her nerves in an instant.

[babiestbubbles]

I saw that requests were open sooo~

Tim's nervous (Read: really scared) around Jason. Jason does not like this and wants to fix it. Tim's prone to panic attacks. Tim hides in the vents. Somehow Jason finds out.

The first days of Tim's being Robin. Bruce and Dick are concerned, while, oblivious, Tim is doing things that only neglected kids do. He is surprised others care. Dick sets out to change this.

AU where Jack ends up being a crap dad. Bruce has had enough and steals legal custody. - Bruce: Well you had one chance at being a dad and you blew it. - Bruce: Tim's my kid now. - Jack can't do anything about this. To Tim, Jack is 'Father'. Bruce is 'Dad'. I have mor ideas on my blog @dc-gotham-instincts-wild.

Answering the one that caught my eye "The first days of Tim's being Robin. Bruce and Dick are concerned, while, oblivious, Tim is doing things that only neglected kids do. He is surprised others care. Dick sets out to change this.", here's a quick drabble for you! It's not that they were looking for signs of abuse, begging for a reason to adopt Tim. Hell, Bruce had more than his hands full with Dick and- …with Dick. It's just that, well, Tim is… strange. Now, Bruce is no stranger to weird kids, and Dick is in no place to judge, but this kid gives strange a whole new meaning.

He's driven to almost a concerning degree, it's like his entire life is his work. He never complains about the weird hours or grueling amount of work that comes with cases. He's never busy when they call him or has to run away from work because his parents need him. In fact, they hardly hear about his parents at all. Which, is fine, could be totally normal. The Drakes have always been a rather private family, but there's something more to it than that. Tim… Tim doesn't talk about his parents the way a kid should. Dick can't say he's all that much of an expert on parents himself, but even from his hazy memories, and his complicated relationship with Bruce, he's certain he can recognize that classic sparkle in a kid's eyes when they talk about their parents. The fondness in their smile, the warmth in their voice. There's depth and inflection and Love sewn into the words. That's what a kid should sound like when talking about their parents, not an empty hallow recount of events, no different from a case report.

Dick's pretty sure he's heard more emotion in Tim's voice during injury reports than he ever has when Tim talks about his parents.

But, that's circumstantial evidence at best. A hunch. Far from enough evidence for even the world's greatest detectives to draw a conclusion from.

Except, that the further they look into it, the more they truly pay attention, the worse it seems to look. Suddenly Tim's wiry frame isn't just the lanky side effect of a teenage boy's metabolism, it's the silhouette of a malnourished child. Suddenly Tim's awkward cadence in speech and inability to pick up on tone isn't a personality quirk, it's a sign of undersocialization. Tim's discomfort with crowds? A side effect of isolation. His reluctance towards hugs? A reflection of his lack of consistent physical contact. The way he cringes at praise? A painful marker of just how little positive attention he's gotten.

[babiestbubbles]

Um hi! I noticed you have an agere discord but the post with the link doesn’t work. If you’re still letting people join could I? Thank you I hope you have a good time zone 💓

Here you go! Also for future reference, I'm adding the link to my pinned posts, if the link on an older post doesn't work, try that one!

[babiestbubbles]

Talia and Dick Drabble

Only thought, Talia al Ghul and Dick Grayson having their casual hatred for each other. Like, she moves in and she's a silly w/ Jason and Damian but she and Dick just have this :squints:  :squintsfurther: dynamic 

and they don't like, actively hate each other or are cruel, but there's this kind of underlying disdain 

And then one day, Dick has like, a horrid day

I'm talking, fucked up on patrol last night, got benched from patrol tonight, bombed a test in school, and got hit with like 4 quips about his dead parents for no reason other than Middle school cruelty 

So he's like, guttered in the trenches of hell and Bruce, well meaning and loving as he may be, has no idea how to handle it. Dick is like, lashing out every time anyone approaches. He's isolating, cooped up. And this spans for like 3 days.

By the third day they've learned to leave him alone, to not engage, because if they so much as stare at him for too long, he'll bolt, even if it means sacrificing a meal in the process.

He doesn't eat any of the food left outside his door either. 

Everyone's concerned. No one knows what to do. Bruce is at wit's end.

And then Talia, in all her motherly understanding glory, tells him to take the boys out. To get out of the house, give Alfred errands to run. Empty the manor sans her and Dick for the day.

And Bruce looks at her like she's asked him to hold a knife to her throat. He's painfully confused how sticking a moody dick with his least favorite person in the world, will at all work in her favor.

But she begs him to trust her, and he does.

And to his credit, he more than obliges to her request. Quickly fabricating a 3-day "necessary" outing across the country. Clad with two eager tag-alongs and a knowing Alfred. He worries his lip, concerned that Dick will take this as further rejection, carefully studying his blank expression as he and Talia stand beside the Jet. Poised to wish them a farewell.

But it's Talia who picks up the almost imperceptible exhale of relief when the doors shut. Effectively sealing off Dick from the one source of insufferable monitoring he'd been suffocating in for 3 days now.

The result is instant. By the time an hour has passed since Bruce's departure, Dick seems practically back to himself. Wandering around the manor, though uncharacteristically wordless, with a spring in his step and a passion that had been long missed.

But Talia knew better than to get excited in the face of progress. She had to remain calm, unbothered. Let Dick come to her. Or at least settle into his new space with her alone. 

This was the first time the two had been entirely alone, so she had to upkeep her façade of normalcy. She made it a point to remain in open spaces all of the time. Doing paperwork at the grand dining table, rather than cooped up in Bruce's office. Preparing food loudly in the kitchen. Allowing for the clattering of pots and pans, the whoosh of a running tap Alfred never let carry on for more than a minute drag on for ten, fifteen.

The manor may have been empty, but Talia made it a point to fill the house with life.

And Dick, ever the victim of curiosity, hardly let her efforts go to waste. She'd spot him, like a shadow, peeking behind walls and pillars, watching her. Observing. 

He'd seen her do all of these things before of course.  But that had been for Jason and Damian. For her children. The ones she wanted. The ones she loved.

He supposed it was only natural that she'd keep up her actions, even in temporary absence of her kin. But there was a strange pang in his chest as he observed her. 

A mother in her element. Carefully preparing dinner, even in her lonesome. Her every move dripping with love and passion, intent. She moved with intent.

It was the same way B moved in the field. He never wandered. Never hesitated. He walked like he was going somewhere. 

And she worked as if she had someone to attend to. A hungry child eagerly awaiting their dinner. 

A heavy twisted emotion reverberated in Dick's chest and he had no idea why. 

He retreated back to his room that night. Only daring to inch his way back to the kitchen when he was certain she was asleep.

He found the kitchen spotless when he returned, and it twist something awful in his chest. Of course she hadn't left anything for him. He wasn't her son and he hadn't even had the courtesy to come down and eat with her. He didn't deserve whatever it is she had made, no matter how good it smelled. 

He tried to bite back the sliver of hope in his chest as he opened the fridge. A tiny piece of him holding out hope that she'd at least had the fleeting pity to leave him some leftovers. But any spark of hope he'd had was quickly crushed as he stared back at nothing but produce and other staples. Not a hint of cooked food in sight.

He sighed, biting back the wretched unwanted tears welling up and resigned himself to whatever he could muster in the next 15 minutes, before his appetite was thoroughly purged by disappointment and self pity.

He picked up some 2 day old leftovers Bruce has messily shoved into the back of the fridge, just out of Alfred's sight, and retreated to the microwave. Not caring enough to even take whatever it was out of the container. 

When he opened the microwave, Dick nearly dropped the stupid container. 

Sitting there, innocently wrapped in a lining of plastic wrap, was a plate of food. 

Dick of course, wasn't stupid enough to assume it was for him, and picked it up, trying to squish down the spark of hope that had returned to his chest. It was only as he turned to place it in the fridge, that he noticed the bright green sticky note placed on top of it.

In pretty scrawled cursive it read.

"I thought you might get hungry so I left this for you."

It didn't mean anything, Dick told himself. It was the bare minimum. Common curtesy, the very same that he'd lacked the effort to extend to her earlier. 

That was all it was. It was hardly a heavy task to set aside a plate of food for the only other person in the house. He begged his chest not to swell with desire. With hope, that he may be extended the same luxuries as Jason and Damian. 

The one thing Bruce was never able to buy him. Never able to *give* him.

The gift of being a child. The luxury of being loved and cared for, in that intimate suffocating, insufferable way that only a mother could provide. 

Dick didn't want that anyways. Bruce was a helicopter parent enough. He didn't need Talia and her ever present questions on top of that.

He'd seen the way she interrogated Jason.  Every time he came home. Incessantly badgering him with questions. Everything from "How was school" to "Do you have any homework" and "Did you like the lunch i packed you?"

Dick didn't want that. He liked his freedom, enjoyed his independence. All Talia's care would do it chain him down.

So he warmed up the food. Shoving down the way it tasted painfully familar. The paprika, allspice, and cinnamon dredging up was Dick was certain were unwanted memories. Sarma, and Christmas. Horko jabuka and chilly Gotham nights. 

…

Masali thud and his mother, after the boys he'd been practicing with laughed in his face.

Dick hadn't realized he was crying until he was hiccuping between bites. 

*Dick missed his mother.*

He hadn't realized it a first. Genuinely. He'd been convinced his temperament was bitterness over being banned from patrol and annoyance at middle schooler’s petty attempts at insults. But it wasn't the things that hurt him that had left Dick moody and incapacitated.

It was the lack of comfort. The absence of soft warm arms to lick his wounds in. The hollow emptiness of Bruce's shallow attempts of comfort and the freezing chill of he empty room. *That* is what had torn Dick apart.

That is what had left him miserable and hostile. Desperate to reject a world that had clearly rejected him.

Dick harshly scrubbed at the tears dripping down his face and glance down at his plate. Surprised to find it empty and unsure of how long ago he'd finished his food.

He shakily deposited it in the sink. Grabbing a glass of water and preparing himself for the miserable journey back to his dark empty room.

Yet, as Dick stood in the hallway, not two steps from his destination, he noticed something.  The door, to Bruce and Talia's room, was ajar. It wasn't wide open, no neither Dick nor Talia was stupid enough to think that would be effective, but it was definitely ajar. At least 3 or 4 inches lay between the door and it's frame. 

To anyone else, anyone not raised by the world’s greatest detective and worst paranoiac, it would've been nothing. 

But Dick saw it for what it was. An Invitation.

He was no stranger to climbing into Bruce's bed after nightmares. Blindly wandering through the very same hallway with ghosts of tears in his eyes, just like now. But he hadn't done that in years. Since long before Talia moved in. 

On any other night, Dick would've stared the invitation in the face and declined. He would have strode into his room in disgust, appalled at Talia's audacity to try and reach out the child she clearly despised.

But something about tonight, something about Dick's brokenness, and the cinnamon and clove still wrapped around his teeth, drew him to the door.

Dick took slow shaky steps toward it. Ready to bolt at the sight of life. But it never came

Either Talia was truly asleep, or she was a hell of an actor, because as Dick approached the door not only did he fail to hear so much as a shift in the covers, but his carefully attuned ears also heard her soft even breaths.

As he neared the door, hand still too afraid to reach for the handle, his heart stopped.

He hadn't seen it from so far down the hallway, but now that he was close enough to peer inside the room, it was clear as day. Talia has left the nightstand lamp on.

It was meaningless. Tears pooled in Dicks eyes and sniffled, frustrated at his body's lack of cooperation.

It didn't mean anything. She left the door open on accident and forgot to turn off the light. She must've been really tired, she did a lot of paperwork today.

But Dick couldn’t bring himself to believe his pitiful lie for even a moment.

He was just too scared to entertain the truth.

Bruce slept with the light off every night. He couldn't sleep with lights on in his room, it's part of the reason Dick started sleeping in his own room actually. Dick was the exact opposite. Dick was terrified of the dark.

It was a bit ironic. Night stalking, crime fighting, fearless vigilante Robin, was afraid of the dark. But he couldn't help it. There was something about that pitch black emptiness. The unknowing aspect of darkness, that terrified him. 

Dick had never told a soul. He told Bruce he just preferred his own room, told Alfred the night light was a saftey measure, to ward off emergency intruders. Told Talia nothing at all, he didn't owe her an explanation and he'd rather die that willingly admit weakness to her.

But she'd noticed. Despite his bitterness, and his distance, and his childish effort to conceal his phobia, she had noticed. The blinding lights left on in the kitchen and the hallway, hell the entire rest of the manor, could be disregarded. She'd left them on knowing someone else was in the house to turn them off, and knowing if he didn't, they's shut off on their own eventually.

But to leave on *her* bedside Lamp?

In *her* room?

It was a sign. Another invitation. The final tug Dick needed to yank open the door and stumble his way into the room. Hiccuping with harsh, painful sobs.

(Different from my usual content but I love them, lmk if i should make this into a fic)

[babiestbubbles]

is your dc agere server still open? your invite link in your posts is expired :<

It is!! Here's the new link

Sorry about that (If this link doesn't work, try the pinned post on my page, I'll consistently update that one!)

[babiestbubbles]

A fic inspired by one of my silly little daredevil AU <333 it's so cute, definitely go check it out!!

A/N: This fic is based on an idea that I saw here on Tumblr and absolutely fell in love with! It was made by @babiestbubbles and you can read it here,I would recommend it as kind of background for this fic so please go show them some love!!!

(also user @meltingsystem03 asked to be tagged if op's post ever got extended into a fic so, hope you enjoyed!)

Happy Accident

Pairings:Cg!Foggy Nelson x Little!Matt Murdock

Word Count: 1.1k

4:30. Half an hour until Matt came home and foggy had finally gotten the house perfect. Matt had been stressed out all week and foggy was intent on helping him relax. House clean, comfort food made and Foggy had even washed Matts sheets, using the the expensive stuff that Matt loves but can never justify using himself.

When Foggy had initially found out about Matt's regression thingy he had been a little confused but exceptionally willing to take everything on board . Ok, found out is a loose term, that implies that Matt had told him.

While clearing out the bathroom during one of his bi monthly spring cleanings, foggy had stumbled on some.... interesting items. Johnson's baby bubble bath, baby moisturizer and baby body wash. All carefully hidden at the back of the cabinet under the sink.

Ok......makes sense why after particularly tough days Matt has a comforting lavender smell about him. But why?

Once everything was cleaned up, Foggy went straight to Google.

"Why is my friend using baby stuff?"

Hey, Foggys never claimed to be the most susinct man on earth.

He does however pride himself on being an open minded person, so, when the concept of age regression pops up, he didn't bat an eye.

Everything kinda clicked. Makes sense why Matt absolutely ceases to function after a long day and is obviously why he has these baby products! Matt had a.....less than stellar childhood from what he'd told foggy so it's not surprising that he'd want to reclaim it. He just does it by being ...a little? Is that what it's called? Anyways, it made sense to Foggy. His roommate and best friend just needed someone to treat him softly sometimes and that's ok.

He knew that he couldn't go in too deep too early. Coming straight out the gate with a bottle and a pacifier was sure to scare Matt off. So over the past few months, Foggy had been easing himself into the role of caregiver. Small acts, supportive words, head scratches and the occasional nickname. Not overt, not outright babying and definitely not insulting.

It became a sort of ritual.Matt would come home, stressed and tired to a sympathetic Foggy, ready to soothe his sorrows with a nice cup of tea, gentle words and a movie.

Matt didn't really understand what had changed in his roommate but he certainly wasn't complaining. The way foggy treated him made him feel so..... fuzzy. Buy not in a "I just drank 6 consecutive beers and four shots on a frat night out" kind of fuzzy. Chill fuzzy, let the rest of the world melt away fuzzy. So, he let it happen, perfectly happy to accept Foggys coddling in exchange for the fuzzy feeling in his chest.

Which brings us to tonight.

Matt walks in the door, wearing a small forced smile that quickly falls, face scrunching up and he's on the verge of tears.

Foggy instantly puts down the tray of cookies that he was holding (oatmeal, Matt's favourite of course) and rushes to his roommates side. He takes Matts cane and coat and puts them aside before pulling him into a hug, Matt's head instantly burrowing into Foggys shoulder

"Oh Matty baby."

That slipped out and Foggy doesn't know where it came from. Matt doesn't even protest though, simply letting out a loud whine.

"I know buddy. You wanna talk about it?"

Matt simply shakes his head, allowing Foggy to kick the door closed before leading him to the couch.

"Ok. Firsts things first." Foggy sighs, sitting Matt down. "Are you ok? Is there anything I need to be immediately worried about?"

Matt shakes his head "Bad day" He squeaks out and Foggy feels a wave of sympathy wash over him. Matt is usually so quick to wave away emotion so today must have been really hard.

"I'm sorry sweetheart" Yet another petname slipping out. Funny. "You wanna go get cleaned up and then we can put on a movie? Your sheets are changed too by the way, and I used the good stuff"

Matt feels the tension start to dissipate and that comforting fuzzy feeling set in fully as he nods. "Please"

---------------------------★-----------------------------

Matt returns 10 minutes later, wearing his softest pyjamas, the faint and now familiar scent of lavender on his skin. Foggy smells it when he brings him in for another hug. "Feelin' any better?"

Matt nods minutely.

"That's good buddy. You wanna sit down?"

Matt sits on the couch with Foggy, head lying on the other man's shoulder.

Foggy puts on some movie on the TV, beginning to describe the actions on screen in a low voice. About ten minutes in Foggy notices Matt picking at the skin of his fingers anxiously. He's now glad that he prepared the apartment with such enthusiasm. He pulls out a stuffed frog from the basket of cushions and blankets the two keep beside the couch (he had not so subtly hidden it there earlier.)

Foggy inhales deep. He knows Matt's too little to take offence to being given a stuffie but he's still a little nervous. Ok. Now or never.

"Hey, no picking at our hands ok sweetheart? You're gonna hurt yourself buddy. Here." He pushes the plush frog into Matt's hands and too his surprise he takes it with minimal fuss.

Mission accomplished.

Over the next hour Matts head slides from Foggys shoulder in increments, eventually ending up in the other man's lap, lapping up the soothing, gentle head scratches and massage he's being given with little appreciative whines leaving him every so often.

Foggy smiles to himself, glad to be providing his roommate with some sort of reprieve from his busy life. He's zoning out, focused on repeating the actions on screen and continuing his hands slow journey around Matt's scalp. He's so focused that he almost doesn't here Matt. Almost.

"Foggyyyyy" comes the high pitched drawn out whine from Matt's mouth.

"Yeah baby?"

"I lu you" Matt says, voice strangely muffled and Foggy looks down to see the hand of the stuffed frog lying near Matt's mouth, looking suspiciously slobbery.

He lets out an amused exhale. Cute.

"I love you too buddy. You going to go to sleep now?"

Matt nods again, the frogs hand having found it's way back into his mouth.

"Want me to bring you to your bed?"

Matt mumbles something that Foggy doesn't quite catch.

"Can't hear you Matty, you gotta take your frog out while you're talking to me bud."

"Wan' bed but want cuddles" He says, and it's the smallest Foggys ever heard him.

"I can bring you to bed and give you cuddles there?. I-if you want obviously, it's- it's up to you." Foggy stutters awkwardly, scared he's gone to far.

"P'ease."

Thank god.

"Course Matty, let's get you to bed."

Foggy does as he promised, getting Matt to bed and holding him as he falls asleep, frog cuddled up beside them.

They won't talk about this in the morning. Matt will get embarrassed and try not to think about it, but they both know that it will happen again and neither of them will complain.

This part of their relationship was an accident, but that doesn't mean the both of them don't need and cherish it.

[babiestbubbles]

Consequences

(A character study/analysis that kind of stumbled its way into being a drabble?)

I absolutely love when people play around with the consequences that Jack and Janet's neglect would have on Tim, and the ways it would foster a desperation for affection/attention with little to no regard for the cost or consequences. But I hate when people write it off as, "Bruce saves sad sad Tim from his neglectful parents. Tim finally gets the love he wants and deserves. They live happily ever after." (I'm using affection and attention interchangeably here to denote the same concept of positive recognition)

Because, while i do absolutely think that Tim's neglect, coupled with the intrinsic human desire for companionship and positive attention, would result in a desperation for affection. I don't think it would be that two dimensional. I think that instead Tim with end up with a really complicated relationship with affection.

I think it would play out more like, Pre-Bruce Tim really wanting affection, fantasizing about being saved/cared for, and constantly oscillating between self blame + fear that he brought his neglect upon himself and anger or resentment towards his parents for neglecting him.

But then post-adoption? (induction? whatever?) Tim, watching his fantasies be fulfilled and being absolutely revolted by it. Tim who craves affection so badly, deflecting or avoiding attention and affection when he does get it. Being uncomfortable when faced with the same acts of care he'd spent years yearning for. Running from family dinners and movie nights and any form of platonic intimacy, locking himself away in his room and isolating to avoid the discomfort that bubbles under his skin.

But also immediately regretting it. Locking himself away only to sit in his bedroom and yearn for something that's right outside of his door. Pushing away anyone's attempts to be close to him or care for him, but then being devastated when people pull back and give him space.

Him sneaking out and going to parties, acting out, breaking things all over the manor all for the same attention he pushed away when spoon fed. Him having no regard for consequences because everything he breaks could be replaced, and the worst that could happen to him when he sneaks out is ending up sick, and thus not expecting to be punished or reprimanded.

Because of this, I really see Tim being entirely caught off guard when presented with punishment and consequence. Begging Bruce not to bench him, apologizing, desperately trying to bargain, barter, or hell blackmail his way out of trouble, all to no avail.

And Tim subsequently throwing a literal tantrum as he realizes there's no getting out of this. Because this is the first time Tim has ever been faced with a punishment that contains no loophole or means of negotiating his way out. A punishment he KNOWS will be personally fufilled/carried out by Bruce. Unlike Janet and Jack's approach that Tim is used to, where they rarely cared enough to even remember the punishment, not to mention follow through. Meaning Tim's being faced with, for all intents and purposes, his very first real consequence/punishment as a result of his actions. And that, the unequivocal nature of his punishment makes Tim feel trapped. It’s suffocating, terrifying, and entirely uncharted territory for Tim, which results in his 14 yr old grown ass literally throwing himself on the floor sobbing begging Bruce to let up. Because he feels so absolutely helpless in his situation, he's begged and he's pleaded and he's tried everything he could think of and none of it's working and he has no idea what to do with himself, how to react. He cannot comprehend his newfound lack of autonomy at all and it results in him literally melting down on floor of the manor hoping that it will somehow change the circumstances, or at the very least relieve the caged desperation thrashing in his chest.

And Bruce is absolutely shellshocked to see this 14 yr old straight up collapse into tears so, for a couple seconds, he's just kind of frozen, not sure what to do. And this only upsets Tim more, because on top of the insufferable affection and now overbearing rules and damning punishments, Now? When Tim needs him the most? Is when Bruce decides he's done with the whole caring parent act? Now is when he's being deprived of affection and soothing? When it's the only thing that could possibly make the world around him stop spinning?

And the further frustration manifests in like, the meltdown evolving from just crying and a bit of kicking, to incoherent and self destructive distress. Head hitting, hair pulling, biting, scratching, clawing at himself anything to make the feeling go away, anything to distract him from the fact that everything is wrong and awful and miserable and there's no escaping any of it.

And it's this transition into physically harmful behavior that snaps bruce out of his little trance and has him bending down to meet Tim on the floor. Shushing him and trying his best to comfort Tim knowing full well that every other instance in which he's tried this has ended with Tim making a break for it before Bruce could get more than a sentence out.

Except this time is different. This time Tim is tiny and helpless and heartbreakingly overwhelmed thrashing on the floor. This time Tim is that tiny broken 5 year old, begging the parked cars in the garage to bring his parents back. This time Tim doesn't *want* the comfort, he *needs it*.

And he clings to it like a lifeline. His arms are trembling in Bruce’s hold, and he continues to thrash and fight for a minute, as he fights for shuddering wet breaths. But after a few seconds of soothing, the fighting subsides, and Bruce drops his wrists in favor of wrapping the boy in a hug. Tim refuses to let him go. For the rest of the night.

Yet another,Obligatory self-promo for my DC agere discord server

Join it! Come harass me for fics, hcs, and drabbles personally ‼️ /silly

[babiestbubbles]

Jason Todd Agere HCS

The first of many, icl. I am possessed by DC demons, I have SO MANY thoughts abt them, pls pls pls hmu w/ Prompts, I am dying to write about these little bat boys

Primarily, if not exclusively, regresses when under the influence. The man is so repressed and afraid of his regression that the one of the only ways he can properly slip into his headspace is when he's drunk/high/etc.

Experiences a LOT of impure regression. Sometimes it's little imperceptible things like accidents after nightmares, so at first he brushes it off as a trauma response (which, technically it is but he doesn’t know that yet) or just a lack of bodily control that comes with revival. It slowly evolves into deep, complete regressive episodes when faced with heavy injury, fear toxin, or when he's home and safe after mission.

To expand on the previous point, he has enough control to keep from slipping during fights/high adrenaline situations, but the second his mind and body register genuine safety (ie. arrival at one of his personal/hidden safe houses or Roy's/a close friend's) he plummets into littlespace.

His close friends aren't overly jarred by it, Jason's always been a little softer, a little more sensitive after rough mission. He always meticulously checks them all over first, only allowing them to give him the same treatment once he's certain all immediate needs have been attended to. It's not their place to judge if over the months that softness has evolved from wordless whimpers and silent tears to soft babbles and tiny acts of self soothing.

If digging through his duffle and shoving a familiar stuffed bear into his arms keeps him from wiggling and whining as they attend to his wounds, just as he did theirs not 5 minutes earlier, who are they to look a gift in it's mouth? It's not like rougher, in-field Jason would take to being patched up all that better.

The process would be laced with fussing all the same, whimpers swapped for strings of curses and flinches traded for Jason brashly pulling away, insisting he could do it better himself. At least this way they can be sure his reactions are signs of genuine pain and discomfort rather than scorn and judgment for their first aid abilities.

He would genuinely rather die again then let any of his family know about his regression and makes it an active point to hide it from them, even at the expense of his health and wellbeing.

Idk much abt Steph but I think she, if anyone, would be the only one to pick up on it. I also think she's the best person of the bats to figure it out, because unlike the others who would confront him about it head on and probably scare him off, I think Steph would soft-launch her awareness of Jason’s regression.

It wouldn't be baby-talk and piles of presents. It would be keeping a few spare kids items in her pouches, a tiny teddybear, a pacifier, lollipops. Things she could easily brush off as occupational necessities.

He has almost NO gear on his own. He has the bear Talia gave him when he was first looking after him. (Before she'd thrown him into the pit back when his mind was too frazzled to recognize or comprehend most of his surroundings. When all he could rely on was his senses for comfort. She picked up on this quickly, flooding the boy with soft scents of cinnamon and nutmeg, cardamom tea, fluffy teddy bears and blankets.)

Aside from the bear all he has is a teether, a busted up old thing. It had water in it at some point, he'd found it in the clearance aisle of a Duane Reade, cheap enough to justify to himself. He'd muttered something about it being good to have for keeping toddlers quiet.

It' hadn't lasted a night in the package before he was gnawing at it, suckling on it, finally satiating the desire to nurse his thumb that he refused to indulge.

The teether had made it all of two weeks before he'd worn it out, busting it amidst a particularly bad crying fit. It only made him cry harder, and while he knew logically he should’ve tossed it the second it broke but he couldn't bear to part with his only other comfort item, and he knew he didn't have the stomach to try replacing it.

That it's for nowwww, pls gimme other characters to do!! I love writing abt them, I could honestly do another dump of just Jason hcs, I have so many thoughts about these little bat boys

Obligatory self-promo for my DC agere discord server

https://discord.gg/QwtaNKMq

Join it! Come harass me for fics, hcs, and drabbles personally ‼️ /silly

[babiestbubbles]

Baby Batcave

Shameless self-promo of the DC-themed Agere server I'm starting

16+ only pls 🙏 Regressors, Caregivers, Reader, Writers, Artists and everyone else interested is welcome ‼️

[babiestbubbles]

Back on my shit again Requests open and a new Featured Fandom: Batfam 🙏

I'm barely getting into it so beware of potential mischaracterizations but I am insane about them so I'll be dropping some HCs or a Drabble soon

[babiestbubbles]

"My friends think I like to fight, but it's just not true"/"I’m not a violent dog, I don't know why I bite"

but it's Husk talking about drinking and the fact that he hates being drunk and incapacitated it's just the only way he knows how to lose himself/escape his own head

"My friends think I like getting drunk, but it's just not true. Sometimes I lose my head and drink a bit more than I can handle, but I've never enjoyed it. …I'm not an alcoholic, I don't know why I drink."

[babiestbubbles]

Huskerdust Drabble

AU where they start dating after ep 4!!

Angel is terrified of ruining his first good relationship so he tries SO hard to be easy to love Meanwhile husk absolutely adores him, flaws and all, and just wants to understand his partner better and be there for him So he constantly tries to get Angel to talk After a couple drinks, or during late nights, or after nightmares. He's always there, he's always listening, and he always wants to help. But he never gets very far, because Angel is just so terrified of being too broken for him And so one night, Husk is walking to their shared room to turn in for the night. He hasn't spoken to Angel all night, Angel came home from work and walked straight past the bar and to their room without a word. And so Husk is like, trudging back to their room all sad mopey wet cat-like. (Yk, his natural state.) And he hears Angel crying and, rushes inside and is like, "Are you okay, what's going on?"

And Angel's like "Husk! Oh shit. No, I'm fine. It's fine" and he's wiping away tears and like, sniffling, insisting he's fine. And Husk is like, "But you don't have to be. I'm here for you. I WANT to be here for you. I want to help. Talk to me. Tell me what's going on?"

And Angel's like, "You've got enough on your plate already. I don't want you to have to take care of me on top of that. Worry about yourself first. Really, I'm okay. Everything's fine, just a hard day at work"

And Husk goes "This IS me worrying about myself. i don't have anything else in my life nearly as important to me as you. I hate seeing you like this, so upset. It upsets me too…" and he's like, reaching out his hand as he's talking going to hold Angel

But when Angel hears him say that, he pulls back and interrupts and goes "WHAT? NO! Please, it's fine. I'M fine. Don't be upset. There's nothing to worry about. Everything's fine…" And Husk just loses it and goes, "I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE! I may have a hell of a lot of patience, but even I have my limits. I'm trying to HELP Angel. I CARE ABOUT YOU. And all you ever seem to do is push me away…" And Angel interrupts and is like, "I just- Don't wanna be too much for ya. I've never done this before. i've never had this before. I don’t know what to do with it? I don't wanna be too hard to love- " And Husk is absolutely infuriated by the idea that Angel can't see that he could Never be too much. That Husk would destroy himself entirely for Angel. He loses himself in his anger. "You can't keep pushing people away, they're only willing to push back so many times. I can take the nightmares. I can take the crying. I can take the lashing out and the flashbacks and Fuck I can understand the addiction. What I can't take is you lying. Hiding it. Acting like you're fine all the time. And pushing away the only person in this goddamned hotel who cares about you." There's a beat of silence, filled only with Angel's sniffling, and ended by a heavy sigh from Husk. "You know what Angel? Maybe you were right. Maybe you are too hard to love." And he turns around. And leaves.

[babiestbubbles]

"All Angels, fall back," Lute calls. Willing her arm not to shake as she reaches for the fallen halo. As she picks it up, she feels her palm and fingers tingle under it's warmth, the heavy hoop still faintly glowing. That can't be right, Halos only glow while their owners were still alive. Adam's couldn’t possibly still be this warm, unless- That's when she hears it, or rather sees it. The faintest shift of Adam's body, his chest still rising and falling, fighting helplessly for a salvageable breath.

She's by his side in an instant, desperately trying to pick him up, crying out for help with a voice too broken to conceal its warble. She receives help all the same and in two minutes that feel like an eternity, they're back in Heaven.

She's running up to Sera before half of the other exorcists have even landed. Begging for help. "…HOSPITAL. We need to take him to a hospital. Please, there's not much time. I don't think he's even breathing anymore. He needs medical attention. Now." She can barely get the words out through her tears, her image of Sera nothing but a blur of white light.

"Lute. There's nothing we can do."

"NO please," she pleads. Voice cracking under the weight of her emotion.

"There are no hospitals in Heaven, you know that." Sera states, arms gesturing around her. "No one here gets hurt. Why would we need them?"

"But, the exorcists." Lute hiccups, "What about training? And after exterminations?"

"There has never been the need." The neutrality in her face and voice fade, only for a second, as she frowns. "Demons have never fought back before. Medical attention was never a necessity. You should know this," she scolds, the familiar mask of neutrality returning.

"I've never- we've never gotten hurt before. I've never cared about what would happen to those who did… but PLEASE. There has to be something. We can make a hospital. We can get him help. There has to be something-"

"There's nothing we can do for him Lute. No one can save him."