#*dc

[fromdove]

congratfuckinglations to whoever had a chance to bounce on it

[seilnakyle]

Batfam + Black Canary tees

Dick Grayson in Nightwing (2016) #80

Barbara Gordon in Black Canary (2015) #10 / Batman: Wayne Family Adventures ep.6 - Favoritism

Stephanie Brown in Catwoman (2015) #43 / Batgirls (2022) #3 / Batgirls (2022) #8 (also appears in #18)

[aenhanse]

I know you always blamed yourself. You were only a boy, Bruce. I could see the fear in your eyes, but I didn't know how to help. I could teach you how to fight, but I wasn't equipped to take care of you. You needed a father. And all you had was me. I'm sorry. Don't be sorry, Alfred.

THE BATMAN (2022) dir. Matt Reeves

[klauswalz]

I like it when people underestimate me!

[courtana]

BATMAN: ARKHAM KNIGHT | 2/? ↳ "You're good, Dark Knight. Even better than I remember. It's going to make it even more satisfying when I kill you."

[bitimdrake]

how did willis todd know lady shiva haunts me every day, but today i'm thinking about a different insane part of death in the family which is jason todd, A White Child, finding three potential candidates for who his birth mother is, a middle eastern woman, a chinese woman, and a white woman, and then being like, oh gosh i'm never going to know which one is my real mother unless i personally track each of them down to ask. like buddy. look in a mirror. i think you can figure this one out.

[reedsues]

CLARK KENT & THE SUN SUPERMAN: MAN OF TOMORROW

[yunwooz]

maison (play color) ✾ jiu

[hauntingrabbits]

comic

[stantanly]

the sillies

[fromdove]

“i told you not to wait up,” jason says, voice low, rough, ruined from yelling or running or both. he's peeling his jacket off one shoulder, the kevlar sticking where the blood’s dried tacky and brown, and you’re already crossing the room to him with a frown and a half-empty bottle of peroxide.

“yeah?” you say. “and i told you not to get stabbed again. guess we’re both bad at listening.”

his mouth twitches like he wants to laugh. doesn’t. his whole body sways like the adrenaline’s leaking out of him, and now there’s nothing holding him upright but pure spite and habit.

you grab his wrist. gently. “sit down.”

“doll, i’m fine—”

“sit. down.”

he does. mostly because you said it like that. partly because he’s tired. mostly because you’re touching him again.

the cut on his side is shallow but ugly, right under the ribs, still leaking a little. the sight of it makes your stomach twist, like maybe if you’d called him one minute earlier, if you’d kept him talking, if you’d just begged a little harder— whatever. you’re not crying. you’re not.

“what happened?” you ask, even though you probably don’t want to know.

he shrugs, flinches. “guy had a knife. i had bad reflexes.”

“your reflexes are never bad.”

he looks at you. for a second. and then away.

you clean the cut. you don’t say anything about how he hisses through his teeth. or how his jaw tightens like he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t feel you, doesn’t care that you’re here, doesn’t want to grab you by the wrist and kiss you so hard he forgets how to breathe.

“you could’ve called for backup,” you say. softly. the gauze sticks a little. you don’t apologize.

“i didn’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“and you getting hurt is fine?”

“i’m used to it.”

that does something awful to your chest. you press harder than you mean to. he doesn’t say anything. just watches you with those stupid storm-cloud eyes like he’s sorry but also not sorry at all.

“idiot,” you mutter. not looking at him.

“you love it,” he says, smirking with blood on his teeth.

you glare. “you’re literally bleeding out and you still manage to flirt.”

“i’m multitasking.”

you hate him. you love him. you hate that you love him. you love that he’s here, still, bruised and reckless and real and breathing.

you lean in before you can stop yourself. just enough to rest your forehead against his. his skin is hot. he smells like smoke and metal and something that might be yours.

“please don’t die,” you whisper.

he doesn’t say anything.

but his hand finds yours. bruised knuckles and all. squeezes once.

“i wasn’t planning on it,” he says.

[seilnakyle]

Ace The Bat-Hound and Bitewing in Super-Pets special: Bitedentity crisis

[tawked]

Superman desperately scanning the street during a fight to find the most morally acceptable car to throw at his opponent, knowing that not everybody has insurance, and loss of transportation can ruin a life -

A wave of incredible relief washes over him as he spots the hard geometric lines and silver paintless sheen of a Cybertruck.

[klauswalz]

I shall become a bat.

[shyjusticewarrior]

At some point "fanfic can be as good as professional writing" became "fanfic should be as good as professional writing" and that's caused major damage to fandom spaces.