blogname176

[blogname176]

generate a random power here

Don't forget to put the power you get in the tags!

(If you're reblogging from me, I got Mixed Martial Arts Mastery)

[blogname176]

if this gets 100,000 notes then i, the worlds greatest space agency will personally shoot donald trump into the sun

[blogname176]

[blogname176]

If you're feeling anxious or depressed about the climate and want to do something to help right now, from your bed, for free...

Start helping with citizen science projects

What's a citizen science project? Basically, it's crowdsourced science. In this case, crowdsourced climate science, that you can help with!

You don't need qualifications or any training besides the slideshow at the start of a project. There are a lot of things that humans can do way better than machines can, even with only minimal training, that are vital to science - especially digitizing records and building searchable databases

Like labeling trees in aerial photos so that scientists have better datasets to use for restoration.

Or counting cells in fossilized plants to track the impacts of climate change.

Or digitizing old atmospheric data to help scientists track the warming effects of El Niño.

Or counting penguins to help scientists better protect them.

Those are all on one of the most prominent citizen science platforms, called Zooniverse, but there are a ton of others, too.

Oh, and btw, you don't have to worry about messing up, because several people see each image. Studies show that if you pool the opinions of however many regular people (different by field), it matches the accuracy rate of a trained scientist in the field.

--

I spent a lot of time doing this when I was really badly injured and housebound, and it was so good for me to be able to HELP and DO SOMETHING, even when I was in too much pain to leave my bed. So if you are chronically ill/disabled/for whatever reason can't participate or volunteer for things in person, I highly highly recommend.

Next time you wish you could do something - anything - to help

Remember that actually, you can. And help with some science.

[blogname176]

Saving some for the future. Pretty sure I'll have to use a couple of these

[blogname176]

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

[blogname176]

This FB post by Rebecca Solnit is the thing keeping me sane this morning,so I’m sharing it here in case it helps you all, too:

“They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything and you are not going to let them. You are not giving up, and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving. You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in. Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is. The pain you feel is because of what you love.

The Wobblies used to say don't mourn, organize, but you can do both at once and you don't have to organize right away in this moment of furious mourning. You can be heartbroken or furious or both at once; you can scream in your car or on a cliff; you can also get up tomorrow and water the flowerpots and call someone who's upset and check your equipment for going onward.

A lot of us are going to come under direct attack, and a lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary. Gather up your resources, the metaphysical ones that are heart and soul and care, as well as the practical ones.

People kept the faith in the dictatorships of South America in the 1970s and 1980s, in the East Bloc countries and the USSR, women are protesting right now in Iran and people there are writing poetry. There is no alternative to persevering, and that does not require you to feel good. You can keep walking whether it's sunny or raining. Take care of yourself and remember that taking care of something else is an important part of taking care of yourself, because you are interwoven with the ten trillion things in this single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn, but is still being woven and mended and washed.”

[blogname176]

This is so cute! Even though Jason is my main man, I still love Dick

Your new partner is Grayson.

He’s a weird guy.

Not necessarily a bad guy, but a weird one.

He’s not cold, in fact he’s rather friendly. However, when you really consider it, he volunteered very little information on his personal life. Reasonable, you suppose. So long as he has your back in the field and gets his reports done, you don’t need to be best friends.

Your new partner Grayson is a recent Gotham transplant. You’d never personally been, but you weren’t oblivious to how utterly mad the city was. You could hardly blame him for getting out.

Your new partner Grayson, tenses up whenever someone mentions the Batman, or any of the nutcases he fights. You don’t pry.

You do your own research.

Your new partner Grayson watched his parents die. He’d been taken in by Gotham’s favourite son, a man he seemed reluctant to speak of. He’d had, and lost a brother, to the most deranged man Gotham, if not the world, had ever known.

You stop mentioning Gotham around him after that.

Your new partner Grayson is a weird guy, who seems constantly surprised whenever you demonstrate competency.

At first you’d suspected sexism. It wouldn’t have been your first partner to have that failing.

After a few days though, you catch him being equally surprised when officer Jackson makes a connection on a string of breaking and entries, and realise that perhaps he’s just not used to the cops not being utterly reliant on a very scary angsty furry and a small child without pants.

Your new partner, Grayson, is a weird guy, who disappears sometimes. Middle of a chase he’ll be gone, and you won’t see him again for sometimes as long as hours, before he’s back. More often than not, somehow through some insane luck, the perp will have been taken down by Bludhaven’s new vigilante, and tied to a lamppost for you to find. You both hated and envied his luck.

Your new partner Grayson was a weird guy… and he was a damn good cop.

He made connections like no one else. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense. You’d asked him once, about how he seemed to know all he did. How he seemed to have access to a whole other database of clues you just couldn’t see.

And he’d smiled that cheeky smile of his, and told you he’d been consulting an oracle.

Your new partner, Grayson, moves like nothing you’ve ever seen.

You’d initially attributed it to his past as an acrobat. The way he could simply parkour over and around anything in his way, run faster then he had any right to, chase down a perp like a bloodhound.

It was more than that though. You’d say without hesitation that if you were in a firefight, he’s who you’d want at your side. You must’ve owed him your life three times over by now. Even in those situations though, when no one would have blamed him for the use of lethal force, he never had.

You’d been pinned down by a smuggling ring. You, Grayson, and ten of them - all armed to the teeth.

He’d been incredible. Superhuman, almost.

Someone had shot out the lights. He’d told you one of the smugglers must have missed. You’d never once believed him.

Ten smugglers. You’d managed to knock out and cuff one, unwilling to risk taking a shot blind.

The other nine? Those had been your partner. He had them unconscious in a heap by the time your eyes had adjusted.

No bullet wounds. He’d done it hand to hand.

You didn’t know exactly what he was hiding, but you knew he was hiding something. You decided not to call him out on it. Not as long as you trusted that whatever he was using his … inexplicable skills for was good.

And trust you did.

Grayson was a good man. Even knowing little about him

Which was why this betrayal hurt so badly.

“Say again?”

You’d sat in relative silence in an unmarked police car for about half an hour on a stakeout, and Richard Grayson had just said the worst sentence you’d ever heard. You’d never been so utterly horrified.

“Peeps popcorn.” He says, holding up the tupperware containing an atrocious biohazard, grinning from ear to ear.

“One more time please?” you fight to keep up your faked anger, but fail in the face of that fucking smile.

Honestly, it should be some sort of crime to smile like that. Like everything would work out in the end, so long as you could keep him smiling at you.

“Peeps. Popcorn.” He says it a third time. He’s trying and failing not to laugh at her, at the way her mouth twists and flails to maintain a frown.

He was tempted to tell her it was in vain. He’d broken Batman, and he’d make her smile too.

Honestly, she had such a pretty smile. Not that he’d say that, she was his partner, and they needed to keep things professional.

“It’s my turn to provide stakeout snacks, and so,” he lifts the lid of the peeps popcorn balls.

“Peeps popcorn.”

She rolls her eyes, and looks out the window of the passenger side. But she’s smiling. “It is one of life’s great injustices,” she huffs “that you can eat like that and maintain your… impressive physique.”

Dick feels his chest puff out a little. While he had been able to tell all along that she had a crush on him, but he’d never risk acting on it. Still, it felt nice to be complemented by her.

“Seriously, do you clock off and just do the ninja warrior course all night or something?” She muses, her head against the window, looking at him out of the side of her eye.

“Not exactly,” he replies, sitting back in his seat, bringing his foot up onto the cushion. “Try one.” he presses, poking her side with the container.

She takes one, rolling her eyes and nibbles at the neon cluster of popcorn.

“No. no.” she gags, “oh that's nasty. Oh, it's so sweet. Why? Why Grayson. Why would you do this to me?” she asks, setting the sticky concoction on the divider between their seats.

Dick just laughs “I am determined to make you a peeps convert.”

“Never, regular marshmallows are fine.”

“Peeps are rainbow.”

“How old are you?”

“There is no age too old to enjoy whimsy, Detective.” he responds, biting into his own.

“Besides, are you implying that rainbow marshmallows are irregular? In this day and age? Tut tut.”

“We are not making me out to be a homophobe over peeps!” she protests, still laughing, slightly taken aback at the audacity.

“If you say so.” he says, stretching his arms over his head and into the backseat. Stakeouts were terrible. He was not built to sit still in a confined space for hours at a time. However, this one provided a useful opportunity he cannot afford to waste.

Not to torment her with his war of attrition for peeps supremacy - though that was fun.

He needed to be sure of something else.

“Well. You being wrong about peeps aside. I … wanted to check back on a file from a few months ago. You uh… you didn’t move the Holt murder file, did you?”

“Holt.” she clicks her tongue in thought “the guy with…” she gestures to her chest.

“That's the guy.”

“Not knowingly. I haven’t had cause to reopen it. No new leads. I tried to track down the kid… He didn’t want a bar for me. Guess I can’t blame him. I offered the help I could… but well… the last time someone helped him his dad got brutally murdered. He’s staying in the tent city by the docks, best I can figure.” She seems to feel guilty as soon as she says it, but Dick doesn’t blame her.

He had paid for that room. If he hadn’t… who knows what might have happened?

“But if someone moved it?” he prompts, not wanting to dwell on that gnawing guilt.

“Wasn’t me.”

Your new partner, Grayson, was a weird guy who ate strange and terrible foods.

He blames himself for what happened to poor Mr Holt. Because he was good to the core, and somehow that had led to something utterly twisted.

He’s also standing on your balcony. On the 20th floor.

And it all makes sense now.

Your apartment isn’t particularly nice. It was small, and frequently disorganised. Especially when you got overly invested in a case.

You’d been texted many gifs of the conspiracy board meme by friends over the years.

Work life balance? Not something you’d ever seen much value in.

And now, your unfairly attractive new partner Grayson was in your apartment, in full vigilante getup.

You need to find a way to be normal about that in ten seconds or less, because he’s staring at you, and you're staring at him, and it's starting to get awkward.

“Hello.” you eek out.

He greets you as Detective, followed by your first and last name.

Unusually formal, for him. Unless… unless he somehow thinks a few inches of fabric in the shape of a wingding is going to fool you.

Unless he thinks he’s got you hoodwinked.

“Nightwing… to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He leans in the doorframe, his hands braced against its top, so he is leaning into your space without touching you, and giving you plenty of ability to step back if you so chose. You don’t.

“I have reason to suspect there’s a serial killer moving though Bludhaven. And that whoever they are, they have someone in your precinct on the payroll.”

You fold your arms, bristling.

“Not sure I appreciate the accusation.” Sure, the bludhaven police department was ridiculously corrupted. But you’d hope that your partner would have at least the trust in you not to think you’d help a serial killer.

“No accusation.” he reassures “a request for help. I need someone I can trust inside the department. And my source says that’s you, sherlock.”

His source? Was he kidding?

No. No he wasn’t.

Oh this was madness.

This was hysterical.

He really, truly thinks that you can’t know him outside of his streetwear. And he’s trying to pass it off like he doesn’t know himself either.

Perhaps you should tell him you know.

But… Grayson and his peeps tomfoolery isn’t the only one who can have fun.

“So… you’re asking me to… what, exactly?” You prompt, unfolding your arms, willing to give him a chance.

Nightwing offers you a smile. It’s slightly different from Richard Graysons.

It’s just as sunny, and it makes you feel just as warm and fuzzy and giggly inside. You have to fight even harder to stop yourself blushing, given how much less this getup leaves to the imagination then his usual dress pants, shirt and tie.

But it’s a little more … brazzen. Flirtatious. More… cocky. Sure, He was always at least a bit of a show off, but as nightwing? He was one of the most capable, incredible people alive, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Oh, you were doomed. But that was a problem for later.

“I’m asking you to keep an eye on the ‘heartless’ case. Holt… he’s not the only one and I think there’s going to be more. And, to be blunt?”

He stands up straight, and puts an arm on your shoulder.

“It’s a big request. But you might be the only person in that station who I have real confidence in.”

You wonder what that says about his relationship with himself, but like so many things with Richard, you don’t ask.

“I can do that.”

“And I understand that it’s dange— I’m sorry, did you just agree?” he cuts himself off, staring at you.

You laugh then, just the once.

You owed him your life many times over as his partner. But as nightwing?

Since he’d come on the scene, you’d actually felt like something mattered. Like change could happen.

Like someone was willing to help the people of Bludhaven not to reap a profit, but because the system you’d once hoped to help restore was broken at its very core, and restoration wasn’t the solution - reformation and fundamental change was. And you didn’t know how to do that.

But then Nightwing had come onto the scene, and started kicking the asses of the worst of the worst, and you had felt like you had when you’d joined the force, bright eyed, bushy tailed, and determined to make a difference.

Before the incident. And every other day, when you’d felt that optimism slowly being crushed to death, into a fine powder and blown away in the wind.

“Yeah.” you say, and agreeing to help is one of the best feelings in the world. You get to help. To make a real difference.

“Bludhaven owes you a hell of a lot, Nightwing… seems like the least I can do is tell you if anything weird comes up.”

“Right. Thank you.” he clearly wasn’t expecting this. Maybe he’d thought it would be a harder sell.

“If I do… have anything for you, how should I alert you?”

He passes you a wingding. “Put this in your window. I’ll check in every few days.”

You raise an eyebrow “all your fancy tech and you don’t have a phone”

He shrugs “phones are traceable. Plausibly just something you picked up on a case as a trinket that you ‘forgot’ to log in evidence left on a windowsill? Lot harder to trace.”

“Fair.” you acknowledge.

“Besides.” he steps backwards onto your balcony once more “your place is on one of my main patrol routes. Can’t let anything happen to the best looking detective Blud’s got.”

You scoff, without any real offence. You know he’s only playing, and that he does, as Richard, respect your intellect more then your appearance - but you suppose as ‘nightwing’ he doesn’t know you that well.

“I think you mean best detective full stop.” you respond, and he gives a small bow of playful deference.

“But of course, sherlock.”

And then he’s gone.

That night, you don’t sleep.

You felt so stupid. He’s nightwing. He’s been nightwing the whole time.

The skills. The disappearing. The way he seemed to just… know things.

The way he tensed whenever someone mentioned Gotham.

… the timing of Robin reportedly becoming a child again.

Had your new partner, Grayson, been Robin?

Had he been using the Batman's archives to solve cases? Was that his so called oracle?

… wait.

Was Bruce Wayne the FUCKING BATMAN?

You screamed into your pillow. You were laying awake, face down in your bed, because now you had realised far too many things in one night.

The first: Your new partner is Nightwing.

The second: Bruce Wayne might be Batman.

The third: you, enchanted by that fucking perfect smile, had agreed to help track down a serial killer stealing hearts.

The fourth: Your new partner, Richard Grayson, between his stupid snacks, the Alfred Pennyworth foundation he’s been working to get off the ground, and his work as Nightwing, will save Bludhaven, you know it to your core.

And the fifth. The worst, and scariest part of your night: You may very well have fallen in love with him.

If you read this far, reblog?

Divider credit: @strangergraphics

Tag list:

@jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

First time writing Dick! Feedback is welcome.

[blogname176]

[blogname176]

[blogname176]

On Monday, April 8, 2024, there’ll be a total solar eclipse – and it’ll be the last one to cross North America for 20 years. Make sure you’re tuned in to our live broadcast for this exciting event: there’ll be views from along the path of totality, special guests, and plenty of science.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[blogname176]

PSA: Tumblr/Wordpress is preparing to start selling our user data to Midjourney and OpenAI.

you have to MANUALLY opt out of it as well.

to opt out on desktop, click your blog ➡️ blog settings ➡️ scroll til you see visibility options and it’ll be the last option to toggle.

to opt out on mobile, click your blog ➡️ scroll then click visibility ➡️ toggle opt out option.

if you’ve already opted out of showing up in google searches, it’s preselected for you. but you also have to opt out for each blog you own separately, so if you’d like to prevent AI scraping your blog i’d really recommend taking the time to opt out. (source)

[blogname176]

Source 

[blogname176]

Most of these made me laugh. The rest made me truly understand the phrase, "sometimes people talk just to hear their own voice."

What does the arab in your carrd mean? Is it like afab and amab?

.. i’m palestinian

[blogname176]

Not DC like I usually reblog but this soft Rafe is written so well and it has my entire heart.

the secrets one keeps || j.m, r.c

Summary: You spend the day with some unexpected company. Meanwhile the tables turn for JJ as he stumbles onto something he’d never thought he’d see.  

Warnings: Emotional pining, bit o’ angst, swearing, references to stalking ig :’), mentions of drug usage. 

Pairings: Reader x JJ Maybank, Reader x Rafe Cameron

A/N: Thank you guys sm for being patient with me and this fic, I’ve said this before but your beautifully kind words of encourgement really make the frustrating process of wanting to get everything perfect, sosoososososoooo worthwhile!! 

<< Part 3 || Part 5 >>  

Part 4

JJ’s eyes held the weight of the world as he engaged in an intense stare down with the chipped ceiling above him. He hadn’t slept at all, not even able to lull himself into that midpoint where one teeters the line between lucid and unconsious.

After coming home to an especially furious Kie, it had taken the pair what JJ had figured to be a minimum of 1 hour and a half to hash out the argument.

“JJ you see the way you’re behaving right?” Kie had always been calm when she argued. It drove JJ insane. Because whilst he was all flailing limbs and incoherent yells, Kie was cold and repulsed. Although he knew it was probably better for him that she didn’t add fuel to the situation, he would have preferred it if she showed the same form of passion behind the hysteric. It would have made him feel less batshit crazy in comparison.

But the main reason why he hated arguing with her was because he didn’t know how. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to reach a conclusion with his lover without feeling either looked down on and ashamed or left with the sly feeling of underplaying tension still in the air. Usually he’d attempt to ignore it until it went away, however this time every part of him told him that it would not be the case. Not when the subject of the argument was you.

Keep reading

[blogname176]

So cute!!! The Animator is so talented!

[blogname176]

Another absolute comfort fic that I love to reread

jason todd x reader

-fluff <3

-damian wayne mention

-enjoy ;) also art credit to @ MOG i cant find their @ so if anyone could it would be amazing ty<3

the apartment was quiet, which was rare for a gotham evening and even rarer in the event that both yourself and jay were both home.

that could mean one of many things, either a movie is going or the two of you are chatting up a storm as jason cooks his heart away in the kitchen. it could mean that one or all of his siblings were over, included but not excluded to roy as well as the other titans who all took just as fast of a liking to you as jason did.

but regardless of what it meant it proved that your home was never quiet. dog was barking (jay was never good with names), windows opening and shutting, groans and grunts (from stitches and sparring), quite the long list but the point was made, it was a quiet evening and that was weird.

so much so that when jason snuck back in through the fire escape at a whopping 10 pm because bruce sent him home from patrol early, feeling sympathetic that night to the fact that his son now had someone waiting at home for him, and the house was quiet jason was almost alarmed.

he kept his gear on, helmet off and placed on your night side table like always, though the domino mask still covered the upper half of his face. light footsteps traced the wood floors, which was odd considering he was a slab a meat walking, but none the less he held one hand to either holster on the sides of his thighs waiting to turn the corner and see either someone holding you or an empty house.

jason was silently praying for an empty living room with a sticky note on the TV saying you went out for ice cream or maybe work called you in, but it was a toss up, a hope, and jason only started hoping when he met you.

he swore his heart stopped when he heard your breathing get heavy. his feet stalled, he knew you were the only one who could ever hear him coming, waiting to see if your breathing would pick up or calm down but nothing happened again, the room was back to pure and utter silence.

he gripped the handle of one of his guns, holding it white knuckled, unable to even think if something happened to you, if you were getting hurt because of his nightly activities, he would rather die all over again than loose you. (not that he would ever admit it, it would ruin his image.)

his body twisted around the last corner, gun already halfway raise from the holster, heart racing, unsure if it had fallen out of his chest or was still resting within. he was on guard in his own home, something he never wanted, he didn’t want to let them win.

“oh for fucks sake.”

his eyes bulged from his head, gun slammed back into the holster, sending a very confused glance as the words tumbled out from his lips before he could even process the fact that you were sitting perfectly fine on the living room floor, a game of chest sat on your cement coffee table with his little demon brat brother sitting just on the other side.

“oh jay you’re home.” your voice carried from your lips to his ears, easing his racing heartbeat but it failed to be sweet enough to wipe the gruff and annoyance off his face.

jason hummed back in agreement, nodding briefly as he kept his eyes on the demon’s head who had yet to acknowledge his older brothers presence or anything at all. jay shifted weight from side to side as he began to toe off his work boots, ones that you immediately notice were cleaner than a usually night in patrol.

his green eyes, now a softer shade, maybe even emerald, stayed on damian with a look of annoyance and maybe even anger, as his body carried over to the couch just behind his girl in his home. your body naturally leaned back into jason, his body resting back on the couch, legs open waiting for you to lean back into his embrace.

“hi darling.” jason’s voice was gruff, usually always was, but it tends to get this deeper and more animalistic when his heart beat had been racing or changed suddenly, so when he wakes at any time of the day, after a sound of ‘making love’ (jay hates calling it sex, he feels like he using you), or after or during a workout. he claims it comes as a side effect from the pit, you think he just gets flustered and doesn’t know how to cover it up.

your body leaned back between his legs, head falling down to the edge of his thigh, hair sprawled across is massive leg, waiting and watching as his head come place a kiss to your hairline, his hand coming down from the back of the couch to rub your scalp for a brief second. (he knows you love it and he loves to watch your eyelids flutter as he massages the area.)

a brief pause passed as your head lifted to turn your attention back to the game of chest, the only sound that can be heard is a deep grumble from your boyfriends chest, “demon brat.”

damian didn’t even flinch, moving his chest piece onto the black square, tilting his head upward just enough to grab a glimpse of his older brother. “todd.”

jason huffed behind you, patting your shoulder signifying he wanted to get up, most likely to change out of the armor. he stepped out for behind your figure, turning around the coffee table, not missing the chance to kick his little brother in the leg before stalking off back to the master room, one he would much rather be laying down in with you watching a movie or reading a book.

“i still don’t understand what you see in him.” damian voiced as he watched you make your next move and immediately pounced to move his en passant.

“you act like you hate having me around.” you teased, staring longing at the board unsure of which move to make next, eyes scanning between damian’s face and the board.

“i do enjoy your company y/n.” he stated, clearly wanting to expand on his point but waiting for you to turn your attention entirely to him. “you are intelligent, it’s refreshing.”

you let out a small snort; you didn’t mean to but you did, immediately regretting it as you watch damian’s face frown and eyes fall back to the board.

“oh dami, i’m sorry.” you reach around, hand resting on his own earning soft look, a hurt look, (he looks like a sad puppy and it’s killing you.) “thank you for thinking i’m smart but you live with some of the smartest minds alive,” (you just don’t see how you are any sort of special or refreshing.)

your words were honest, yes you were smart but you were not babs or tim. yes, you had a masters degree in clinical research and are having successes with your new treatment for children’s leukemia, but that was luck not intelligence.

“none of them take me seriously.” his voice was small, over the last 4 years of knowing damian he was never small. “you always do.”

you thought your heart was going to explode, genuinely had a broken look on your face to mirror his own. but if you thought this moment with damian was breaking your heart than you clearly had no idea how jason was melting watching the two of you from the corner.

“because you deserve to be listened to damian.” you reached your hand that had been previously resting on his own, to his chin, tilting it up so his green eyes were blaring into your own, so you knew he was understand his words. “i know it’s hard, growing up here and trying to fit in-“

“that’s not the issue anymore y/n.” damian was quick to cut you off, stopping the speech that he had heard too many times over the last few weeks but you didn’t know that.

“so what is the issue than dami?” you questioned, your hands pushed off the base of his chin as his head turned down tot he board and making yet another move, leaving you confused as to how he keeps multiple attention strings on you and the game.

damian huffed, he really hated confrontation, he hated having to open up but with you he felt like you were so easy to talk to and you always understood, you never belittled him or told him no. last year he told you he could drive and you let him. damn near gave bruce and jason a heart attack but it made damian finally feel listened to.

damian had liked you since jason brought you home for the first time. he enjoyed how you didn’t treat him like a child and how you asked about his interests and really seemed to enjoy him talk about it. titus took a liking to you the following week when you had to stop by the manor to get something for jason. titus didn’t even bark instead he followed you around, waiting to lay down with you or go outside, that’s when damian knew you are a good person and he made the executive decision to “tolerate” you.

he hated though how everyone pointed out the fact that he took an instant liking to you, he hadn’t done that with anyone but the animals at the manor. he also hated that everyone would fake hurt because he called you by your first name and everyone else by their last. he didn’t do it on purpose, when he met you, you almost reminded him of someone his mother used to have around her and if she was not to be disrespected. he didn’t want to disrespect you. he felt like he knew you well and to put it plainly you were the perfect mix of todd, grayson, his mother, and father, and that’s what made you feel so much like his big sister.

“you don’t have to talk about it now dami, i’ll always be here if you need me.” you took the beat after his shy look to make another move on the board, calling checkmate before he even had time to process what just unfolded.

“you cheated.”

“i did not.”

“you must have, i never loose.”

“you just did.”

from the corner of the room, still undetected by both his soulmate and his brother, jason was smiling like a damn idiot. ear to ear at the interaction that just unfolded. finding you will always be the biggest triumph of his life.

but he knew if he didn’t intervene soon that cheese prices would be flying and the two sitting so peacefully, teasing at one another over the win and the loss, would not end well.

so here comes the night in a ‘fuck batman’ shirt and some grey sweats, to the rescue, still drunk off the fact that he could ever find someone as perfect as you.

“hey demon brat.” the two heads twisted the direction of the hallways, damian’s eyes narrowed into two slits and your eyes gleaming with such affection as you smiled at the man now pushing his body off the wall. “can i have my girlfriend back?”

jason began the walk over to the couch, eyeing the original spot he had taken when he first encountered the pair in the living room, watching as his girl lightly moved away from the back of the couch to make room for his legs. but the movement of his legs were halted as he fully bodied his younger brother, who at some point during his staring encounter with his girlfriend had risen to his feet and was now blocking jason from getting any closer to the couch.

“move D” a huff supported the statement as jason didn’t even use the energy to look down at the 13 year old.

“change your shirt.” his younger brothers voice was cold, first balled up and pushing against his older brothers stomach in attempts to force him back to the room.

an eye roll and quick step to the side “no.”

“your disrespecting father.” damian started again, turning as jason started settling down into the couch behind you, hands instinctively going to your hair to play at the ends of it.

“he’s not my father.” a sing song voice answered the statement, causing damian to look at you, pleading for back up, which was responded with a head shake and a sad smile.

rule number one, never get between all four or even a pair of the brothers, it won’t end well for you.

“i’m calling father.” damian spoke aloud again, making jason’s hand freeze in your hair and body go stiff behind you.

“your bluffing.”

“i don’t bluff todd.”

and just like that the quite night home was over, the room was filled with laughter (from you) grunts, kicks, screams, and groans (from the boys) and the cheese prices falling on the floor which earned yet another lecture from damian to jason about how priceless the game of the mind is.

but let’s just say the morning was worse when jason was stilling wearing the fuck batman shirt and we ran out of damian’s favorite cereal.

“todd how are dare you not have it!”

“this is my house demon spawn! i don’t eat that shit!”