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mangoisms · 11 months

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i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter three: like the world makes sense | read chapter one | read chapter two

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5.3k

━ warnings: mentions of explosion, injury, and death (within the usual canon-typical violence parameters)

━ masterlist

You and Tim continue to hang out.

Through the week, after school lets out, you are often too tired to go and do anything, but this suits Tim fine as the two of you continue to think of movies you like that the other has not seen.

You make him watch Mamma Mia, which he says is ‘okay’ but you think he likes more than he wants to let on. You do what he wants, too, and terribly dated as it is, The Devil Wears Prada is certainly fun enough.

Every time you see him, you learn something new about him. His favorite color is blue. He used to play tennis when he was younger but not anymore. He also used to like photography, but he doesn’t do it much these days. Not because he stopped liking it. He doesn’t say that but you can tell.

You wonder about that, about the things he used to do but no longer does. What does he do now, then? You ask him that, and he says he helps out with WE, with their R&D department, with IT, or wherever they want him. Not always but most of the time.

He doesn’t talk about his parents and he doesn’t talk about Bruce Wayne or his adopted siblings. He’ll talk about Alfred, the butler (not the cat), who was also the one to do his laundry.

You don’t mind. You’re more interested in him, in what makes Tim Tim. And on a lighter note, while you admit to having expected him to be a poor cook, he is actually decent.

“I’m only good at breakfast foods,” he admits to you one evening, having commandeered your kitchen to make breakfast for dinner. “And pasta. I can do pasta. But mostly breakfast.”

Better than most rich boys, you think.

You tell him about yourself, too. How you came here because tuition at Gotham University is dirt-cheap, largely because of the city in which it resides in, but the programs are still good. Good enough for what you wanted — public education with a small dash of child psychology. You worked at one of the elementary schools for two years before landing a job at Gotham Pointe.

“Will you ever leave?” he asks one day, the two of you eating ice cream and watching Zathura. His pick today. “Most do.”

You swirl your Oreo ice cream, the ceramic bowl cold against your palm.

It’s a good question. One your family wonders.

You got the degree. You got the experience, too. And experience in Gotham is gold everywhere else because if you can withstand the kids here, you can handle them anywhere.

With the fine print being that Gotham kids are what? Uncontrollable troublesome kids who will inevitably turn into criminals? Inherently evil? Your kids can annoy the hell out of you on a bad day but they’re your kids. They talk to you, they tell you about their lives, about what they like and don’t like, and they listen to your stories, too, and they show you that while others think living in Gotham is like living in some kind of barren wasteland… there is hope. So easily within reach.

If Gotham was as bad as people tried to make it out to be, no one would be here.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually say, looking at him with a small smile. “I like my job too much to leave. I like living here, too. And the company isn’t so bad, either.”

Tim smiles when you say that. “I would miss you.”

And what a thing to say. What a thing for you to have the privilege of. That someone, not just your kids or Ms. C, would miss you and your presence.

Well, you think. You would miss him, too. Maybe more than you would like to admit.

Friends.

Still hard to quantify or believe.

The city starts to ease into something like spring as mid-March creeps on you. Mornings and nights are still frosty but your breath no longer comes out white and you don’t have to watch out for patches of ice. The time in between is even more comfortable, allowing you to be outside mid-day without a jacket. You’re still in a long-sleeve but it’s a win in your book.

You and Tim keep spending time together. He learns, with the onset of March, that you like baseball and used to play softball when you were a teenager. Semi-seriously, too.

Gotham has its own major league baseball team, too — the Knights. It shares the name with your football team.

The baseball team isn’t any good, but that’s fine with you. Tim prefers their football team, which has the best track record out of all of them.

So, with that, Tim surprises you with tickets to their Opening Day on the last day of March. Well, the tickets are from one of WE’s partners, trying to suck up to him, he says, but it doesn’t matter that much to you since he didn’t technically pay for it.

However, there is something to be said about the buyer’s wealth.

“Look, I’m genuinely not trying to be picky or ungrateful but where, exactly, are the seats?”

“It’s not the Diamond Club, relax.”

“Okay, thank god.”

That would be too much. Mostly because of the notoriety around the seats themselves. Plus, with them being right behind home plate, your faces would most likely be caught on TV and that would be… a mess.

No, the seats are in the second row in front of the Knights’ dugout. Still excellent but not the Diamond Club, thankfully.

Tim comes dressed in jeans, a forest green long sleeve that meshes well with his pale skin and dark hair, and a nondescript ballcap.

“Just a precaution,” he tells you.

But upon arriving at the Knights Stadium up in Otisburg, you book it for the nearest merch stall and grab two black Knights caps — modeled like the iconic LA Dodgers and NY Yankees emblem except with GK — and shove one into his hands while putting yours on backwards. He acquiesces you with a smile and then leads you to concessions, happy to foot the bill, with you happy to let him do it, too.

(Drinks and food are far too expensive for a team that loses more games than it wins. Seriously.)

But like the universe is looking out for you (and the Knights and all of Gotham, really), the Gotham Knights win their Opening Day match against the New York Mets. The first time they’ve ever won an Opening Day game, actually.

Even Tim feels some pride, which is why, you think, after the game, he lets you drag him off to take a picture with the Gotham Knights’ mascot, King Arthur. One of his handlers takes the picture with Tim’s phone.

“Hey,” he says, scrutinizing Tim’s face even as he casually adjusts the bill, pulling it lower over his face. “You seem familiar. Do I know you?”

You panic, because this hasn’t ever happened to you two before, what with how you two mostly spend time inside, but you know you shouldn’t be surprised. Tim is careful to make himself as boring as possible to the tabloids. Even while grocery shopping earlier in February, he had a cap on and made sure to blend in as much as he could.

So, of course, Tim is the one to get out of it.

He looks at you, mock confused, and says something equally as befuddling in… Russian?

You match his look, raising your shoulders, and the handler decides this is not a situation he wants to be in as he shoves the phone into your hands and waves his own, enunciating, “Never mind. Never mind. It’s nothing.”

You and Tim leave them, making sure to look as confused as a pair of Russian tourists with not a lick of English would. It’s only when you are home free of King Arthur and his handler do the two of you break down into a mess of giggles.

“What did you say?” you giggle, nearly stumbling over the curb.

“I said, My publicist is going to kill me.”

You laugh all the way to his car and then on the ride home, too.

(“You know Russian?” you ask at one point, finally realizing that.

“Some,” he says, and you learn he knows a handful of languages like Russian, French, Spanish (the stuffy kind, though).

It’s cool, though he admits it’s from tutoring he had, so you have to make fun of those rich boy tendencies again.)

It’s one of the best days you have in a while.

But you find most of your days shape up to be like that.

Even long ones where the kids refuse to listen to you and lesson plans are thrown way off course. Tim will leave you to it if you need the space but other times, he’ll come over, make breakfast for dinner, and you two will watch some Ice Age and you go to bed in a much better mood.

And while you and Tim continue to hang out, your brother remains in awe of that fact, too.

He has some preconceived notions about who, exactly, Tim Drake is but you shut those down quickly. You know why he thinks like that and it would be a lie to say you didn’t think like that, either, but people are so much more different than they portray themselves. Especially ones like him.

Your brother understands, then, and is happy for you.

Not without a few well-placed jokes, of course.

You should steal his debit card info

i’m not stealing his debit card info

Dude he’s a millionaire it’s like his civic duty to society

Which is fair and you’ve certainly made that joke in regards to… some of the wealthier figures in Gotham before. (You flush thinking about your college friends’ jokes about being Bruce Wayne’s sugar baby. Tim will never find out about that as long as you live, thank you very much.)

Even Tim starts to foot the bill if you get takeout or something. And he says exactly that.

“It’s my civic duty,” he manages to say to you with a completely straight face. (Which is funny because he’s also apparently not straight, much like you.)

But it is true that Tim is decidedly well-off. Most of Bruce Wayne’s children are.

You carefully prod Ms. C and the other teachers and aides about information on them, because the internet can only tell you so much.

They rehash most of the info about Tim you already knew — the drama when he was seventeen with the CEO thing, the engagement thing, and the attempted assassination thing. (So many things.)

Tim is the only middle child, though, out of five.

The eldest of them is Dick Grayson, taken into Bruce Wayne’s care after his parents died. He doesn’t live in Gotham, though. New York, you think, is where he currently resides. Then there is Jason Todd, who is a bit of an odd case, because he ‘died’ when he was fifteen then came back when he was older, but the real story is that Bruce Wayne was, apparently, in so much grief at the thought that he misidentified the body in Ethiopia, meanwhile Jason Todd was still alive but kidnapped. He would be until he escaped and came back to Gotham at nineteen. You have faint memories of that media hellstorm from college but these days, they don’t focus on him much.

Cassandra Wayne, the most shrouded in mystery out of all of them; a cryptic figure that paparazzi only manage to capture every six months. She shows up for the occasional charity gala but most can’t actually find or talk to her. The only trace of her existence is other people saying they saw her.

After her, there is Tim, and then there is Damian Wayne, the youngest of them. A teenager now and a model student at Gotham Academy. The one that economic magazines and tabloids say will one day take over Wayne Enterprises. Damian is also the only of them not adopted. He is, much to Gotham’s collective shock, Bruce Wayne’s biological son. You idly wonder about his mother, though, since he does have black hair like his father, but the brown tone of his skin and hazel green eyes sets him apart from his father’s obviously white ancestry.

And well, there is Bruce Wayne, too.

Starting to go grey, he is less of a playboy these days and more of a fatherly figure. Apparently, he’s on the Parent-Teacher Association for Gotham Academy. It’s an amusing thought.

(It still doesn’t mean the Gotham populace isn’t drooling about him. If anything, the fatherly vibes seem to do something for, ah, certain cohorts. You did at once think he was attractive — really — but after knowing Tim… it just feels a bit odd.)

You are certain your prods for info go unnoticed. And they do. It is… something else that gets Ms. C’s attention.

“You seem more happy these days,” she says offhandedly one morning, the two of you preparing the assignments for the day, as well as the tests the kids had taken last week that are now ready to be handed back.

“I have a new friend,” you decide to say, because it shouldn’t hurt.

She nods distractedly. “That’s nice. You did seem a bit lonely before.”

Which is funny because she never let on about it. And also because it’s so direct, you don’t know what to say.

“Nothing wrong with it,” she says after a minute. “I like to be alone. But there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, isn’t there?”

“I suppose so.”

“It’s good, then, that you have someone now.”

“He’s just a friend,” you chuckle, scratching your cheek awkwardly.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” she says, finally looking at you, amusement twinkling in her hazel eyes.

“Right.”

“Well… good for you.”

“Thanks.” You smile at her and mean it.

It is good for you.

Really good for you.

Which is why, you suppose, things take a sharp downturn one Thursday evening.

Truthfully, you have no idea how you made it back to Rose Oaks.

Your fingers shake as you try to lock your bike to the rack. It takes you a couple tries to get the lock into place.

You straighten, your body aching as you do, and you limp through the entrance. The doorman does a double-take at the sight of you.

“Have a good night,” you mumble to him, going over to the elevators. You press the button. Your eyes catch the shredded skin on your arm, red and raw. You let your hand drop.

It happened too quickly for you to do anything.

All you know is you’d been biking down Cameron, the sun setting, others starting to make their way home for the day, then there was a boom that rattled the street and buildings and people panicked, because this is Gotham and any unusual activity is dangerous activity and you don’t stick around to play the hero, and if people start running, you start running, too. Doesn’t matter if you don’t know what’s happening, just do it, because it could be the difference between life and death in a world like this.

You know all of this.

But you never stood a chance against the rush.

You barely managed to scrape yourself off the ground, grab your bike, and break free, trying not to think about how you very well could’ve been stampeded to death and that’s not a very fun or dignifying death at all, is it? But it’s Gotham. Death is not fun or dignifying here. It’s miserable and painful and a cautionary tale to those that live to see the next day, just another addition to the fine print of living in this city.

Ding. The doors open. You step in. Your legs feel weak.

“Hold the door!”

Your hand shoots to the panel, holding down the open doors button. Someone rushes in in the next second.

“Hey, thanks for that —” the polite gratitude is swapped out for frantic concern in the next second, your name wrapped up in it.

You blink and find Tim in front of you, eyes wide in concern, hands hovering over you, as if afraid to touch you. It confuses you, because it’s not like you’ve ever shied away from him. If anything, you’re horribly, horribly touch-starved. If he let you, you’d be plastered to his side twenty-four-seven. Or, not twenty-four-seven, but you know. When you two are watching a movie or a TV show and he lets you throw your legs over his lap, you have to be really normal about how he rests his hands on your legs.

(He isn’t even doing anything, it’s just the pressure, the touch, that makes you want to sidle up beside him and never let go.)

Oh. Where did that come from?

He says your name again and you shake your head.

“What?”

“You can let the doors close,” he says softly and you turn and realize you are still pressing the button.

You let it go.

The doors close.

You hadn’t pressed your floor, though, so he does it for you. The elevator starts moving in the next second.

Tim looks carefully at you, concern still clear on his face.

“What happened?” he asks gently.

“I… I got knocked off my bike. It — it was an accident. People were just… panicking. There was…” Your chest tightens, until every breath feels like a struggle and why are you so cold? “An… an explosion. I… I don’t know.”

He realizes something. “Off Cameron?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I —?” He gestures to your arm.

Strange to ask. Unsettling in a way.

“You… you don’t need to ask.”

He softens at your response and his hand finds your left one, turning your hand up, where your palm is a little scraped up from your spill. Your forearm is worse off, road rash peeling the skin off, exposed and throbbing.

Tim’s fingers are warm against your cool skin, his hands calloused but still soft.

“I’m fine,” you say, though you aren’t sure why.

He looks up at you, the look in his eyes… You have to look away, shaking your head.

“I’m fine,” you say again.

“You’re hurt,” he counters gently. “Let me take care of this. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“It’s old. I don’t… Haven’t used it since I got it a few years ago.”

“Then why don’t we go to my place so we can grab mine?”

“Okay.”

He turns to the panel to press the button for the fifteenth floor.

The elevator pauses at the fourteenth floor but you two stay on.

Tim’s hand holds onto yours, gently, avoiding the scraped skin of your palm. He leads you out, to his apartment. His is bigger, better, than yours. But it just feels more empty when you come inside. Alien in a way you don’t like. You’ve spent a lot of time here but you want your apartment, with the crabitat, your fridge with drawings from the kids, your messy coffee table with tests and assignments that need to be graded, your sometimes clumsily-made pottery pieces on display.

He can tell, you think. Because he lets go of your hand at the door and moves quickly, murmuring for you to give him a second.

He disappears down the hall. Your feet ache from work and your knee and thigh aches from the road rash you sustained there, too, the material of your slacks torn. Because it’s already April and the days are growing warm, you’re in a short-sleeved blouse, which accounts for the scrapes on your arms.

More than that, you want nothing more than to lie down and sleep for the next week.

But no… You have work tomorrow. The thought burns through you, frustration and exhaustion sparking hot in your chest. Your eyes sting and you close them, swallowing down the emotion.

It’s fine. It’s fine. You can handle it.

You will.

Tim returns, then, first aid kit in hand. He pauses for a second, gazing at you, and you turn away first, opening the door. He follows you.

You take the elevator back down.

Soon, you’re stepping into your apartment. The light in the crabitat is the only thing on, glowing in the darkness like a lighthouse on the shore guiding you home. Something inside you unwinds.

Tim turns on the light. You take off your shoes and drop your backpack near the coffee table.

“Take a shower,” he suggests. “Then I’ll patch you up. I’ll be in here, okay? Want me to feed the boys, too?”

You blink, starting to return to yourself. “I… Yeah. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“What is it today? Fresh or canned?”

You blink. “How do you…”

Tim cracks a smile. “I’ve seen you do it a bunch of times, the way you alternate. But I’ve also done my own research. I was curious.”

“Right… um, canned today. They had fresh food yesterday.” You pause, starting to feel this strange creeping feeling inside your chest. You don’t like it, so you try to push it away. “Thanks, Tim.”

His face softens. “Of course.”

You head for your bedroom while he heads for the crabitat.

You pull out a fresh change of clothes, a pair of white linen shorts, heeding your scraped up knee and thigh, then an old high school softball t-shirt.

You have a door to the bathroom in your room, then another door from the living room. You lock both and turn on the shower.

Inside, you finally get a look at yourself. Your breathing stutters as you understand why the doorman was concerned, then why Tim was — is — too. Your cream-colored slacks are smudged with dirt and a few tire tracks from your bike when you fell. The fabric at the knee is torn, too, edges turned red from the blood. More fabric at the side of your thigh is torn, skin scraped and raw. Your pale blue blouse is in a similar state. Your arms are scraped up, rubbed raw from the sidewalk.

You look like a mess.

Hot humiliation bubbles inside you, along with fresh terror as you replay what happened inside your head.

Your eyes burn as you strip. Your scrapes burn even more when you step into the shower, the hot water making them throb, and you finally let your tears fall.

You work to keep your cries silent, though, wary of how noise echoes inside the shower. You don’t want Tim to know. You don’t want him to worry more than he already is.

It takes a while for you to piece yourself back together, but after washing your hair and body with your familiar smelling shampoo and soap, you manage to do it. Your injuries ache, though, especially when the towel brushes against them as you dry off.

Soon, you are reluctantly stepping out of your bedroom and into the living room.

The TV is on, playing season one of Spongebob. Tim, in the kitchen at the stove, turns, smile flitting across his lips.

“Hey, you’re just in time. I hope you didn’t mind me using the kitchen but I figured you hadn’t eaten dinner yet.”

Something spasms inside your chest.

You shake your head.

“Take a seat,” he says. “I’ll bring it over.”

You go to him.

He doesn’t say anything, ladling tomato soup into a bowl cushioned by a potholder. A grilled cheese sandwich sits on a plate on the counter. You pick up the plate, then take the bowl and a spoon as well.

“Water?”

You nod and seeing as you no longer have the hands for it, decide to just let him do it and head over to the couch. Your knee protests as you sit down. Your whole body protests, actually.

Tim brings a glass of water for you, along with a bottle of Tylenol, then sits down.

“You should eat, too,” you say.

“I can eat after.”

“Tim —”

He says your name. You stop. He grabs the first aid kit. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

But you do worry about it. You worry about this, about him making you food, about him putting off his own meal to take care of you, about him taking care of you.

In that moment, you feel terribly, terribly burdensome.

He inspects your hands first so you can eat and deems the scrapes not bad enough to cover, then moves to your leg.

You sip your tomato soup and take bites of the grilled cheese, oddly famished.

“It’s the adrenaline,” he says. You imagine you must’ve looked confused at your own hunger for him to say something.

“Huh?”

“The adrenaline,” he says again. “Coming down from it, you get hungry. And tired.”

You have fuzzy memories of your psych classes. That is true. Also probably why you are still cold.

How does he know that, though?

At your question, he shrugs. “You know how much time I have to myself. I have to do something to occupy it.”

“Maybe you can take up knitting.”

“Nah, I already know how to sew.”

“So, you know how to sew but not do your own laundry?”

He flashes a smile at you. “Exactly.”

You laugh despite yourself.

His smile softens, then he looks back to your knee, grabbing a piece of gauze.

“Aren’t you going to disinfect it?”

“Rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide aren’t great for cleaning cuts, actually. It kills the bacteria but it kills the normal cells, too. You need those to heal. Did you wash it well during the shower?”

You nod.

“So, that works, and we can do something else, too.”

He pushes up from the couch, heading over to the kitchen, riffling through your cabinets. You turn your eyes back to the TV and take a drink of your water. Your fingers itch to change it to the news, to see what happened, to see if there were casualties.

But Tim returns before you can grab the remote.

He has a bowl of soapy water in hand, setting it carefully on the coffee table, then sitting next to you again.

“This might sting,” he warns, dipping one of the pieces of gauze in the water then gently dabbing the edges of the scrape.

It does sting but not as bad as the alcohol might’ve.

“So, how do you know this stuff?” you ask quietly.

“I was clumsy as a kid.”

You wonder if that clumsiness has much to do with the scars you’ve seen on him. Some on his knuckles, on his arms. He sports fresher ones sometimes. The shadow of a bruise hidden under the hair that falls sharply over his forehead, the occasional cut. He always blames it on his clumsiness and you have no choice but to believe him. What other option is there? He isn’t dating anyone that could be doing that and he hangs out with his friends and siblings sometimes but they wouldn’t do things like that.

Well. You don’t actually know them. But… still.

He finishes cleaning the edges of the scrape, then he applies a little bit of Neosporin and tapes gauze over it. He does the same with the one on the side of your thigh.

Tim works attentively, not even sparing a glance at the TV once. You should know by now, the way he dedicates himself to things like this, how he will listen to you talk about something to do with school or with the crabs or with a movie or TV show. Every iota of his attention and concentration is on you. It flusters you sometimes, to be paid so much attention, but you would be lying if you said you hated it.

Now, with him turning that familiar concentration to taking care of you… you don’t know.

He has to have better things to do than doing this.

“Are you going to work tomorrow?” he asks, gently taping a piece of gauze over the scrape on your arm.

“Most likely.”

He nods wordlessly in acknowledgement and moves back, leaning forward to collect the used pieces of gauze and trash from the tape.

You chew at the inside of your cheek. “It’ll be fine. It’s… it’s fine.”

“Just don’t strain yourself,” he says gently. “Did you want a ride? I don’t —”

“No.”

An awkward silence follows your abrupt denial. You don’t miss the flash of hurt on his face. It stabs you right in the heart. You look away.

“I mean, thank you, Tim, but, um, it’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to do that. I get up pretty early in the mornings and… Yeah.”

You stand, your knee — your body, really — protesting but you ignore it, stacking your plate and bowl, then grabbing your empty cup.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you continue, dropping them into the sink. “And I appreciate it, really. Thank you. But you don’t have to do any more. So, if you have… other things to do. You know. Go ahead.”

“I have nothing else to do,” he says, surprising you as he appears by your elbow, throwing away the trash from the gauze and the tape. The look on his face is hard to describe. Caught between some cross of disappointment and determination. A part of you shrinks at it. At the thought of disappointing him.

“Let me wash it,” he says, stopping you before you can turn on the faucet. “Give your hands a break. Give yourself a break, okay?”

Some part of you wants to fight it. Wants to say he should try that, too. As if you don’t see how tired he looks sometimes, staying up late to do reports for WE. For whatever reason, he’s working more with them. A few weeks ago, he had to fly to New York. Something about R&D. He returned exhausted from the trip.

But you clamp the impulse. That’s not necessary. It’s not about him. It’s about you. This is… It’s unnecessarily difficult to let yourself be taken care of right now. You have an inkling as to why but the energy needed for that kind of introspection is lost on you. So, you let him take care of the dishes and slink back to the couch, slouching into the cushions, feeling exhaustion tug persistently at you.

Yawning, you pull the blanket hanging over the back of the couch onto your body. The Tylenol you took before has already kicked in and with your hunger satiated and your pains taken care of for the most part, you are ready to go to sleep for the rest of the night.

You fight the impulse, though, sparing a glance at the kitchen.

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“You better eat.”

He laughs and your chest warms at the sound.

“Alright,” he says, tossing a smile over his shoulder at you. “I’ll eat.”

You nod and turn back to the TV, picking up the remote and switching to the local news channel.

The poised voice of the GNN news anchor replaces the Spongebob theme song.

Tim pauses in turning on the stove.

“An incident in the Upper West Side tonight, a laundromat off Cameron Avenue went up in flames after a dryer exploded. Miraculously, there were no casualties inside the laundromat, however, the explosion caused much panic on the streets, resulting in at least one person dead from the rush and many others injured. No doubt, people believed it to be some kind of attack, especially with the recent news that the Joker has broken out of Arkham again and police have been unable to track him down —”

You change it back to Spongebob.

A laundromat.

Just a laundromat.

No real danger. No threat of death.

All this… because of the collective anxiety Gothamites hold. You aren’t holding it against them, you’re just…

Tired. Exhausted. That’s what this city does sometimes.

A lot of the time.

You swallow past the uncomfortable tightness in your throat, close your eyes, and let yourself be whisked to sleep, where things are easier, simpler, and you can just… forget. If only for a little while.

━ end notes

1. it was brief but i largely prefer the thought that gotham is not as evil or horrible as people like to make it, or better yet, that the city does stink but people still stay there and they still try to be kind in spite of a horribly corrupt government that is in fact the root of almost all the problems. it's really just the sociologist in me (seriously, that's my minor!)

2. reader briefly mentioned the diamond club, which are typically the seats directly behind home plate and they are crazy expensive. here is the seattle mariners' diamond club prices for reference

3. technically, in canon, i don't believe the knights' have ever mentioned a mascot and what kind. i also admittedly did indulge in letting both the baseball and football team be called the knights but let's ignore that. anyway, i made up the king arthur mascot thing on the fly. couldn't think of anything else knight-related that would work, other than an actual knight. for mlb teams, it isn't always on the nose. like the seattle mariners' mascot is the mariner moose. so, that's why i went with king arthur.

4. dick is not living in gotham or bludhaven anymore and instead in new york because i think he deserves a little (a lot) of space from bruce for his own peace of mind and um general mental health

5. also yeah jason is alive to the public here. i know that is the same in rebirth (i think) but i don't know the details, so if the story behind that is different, that's why, because i also made it up. but it is slightly inspired by this fantastic au on if talia brought jason home after restoring his mind with the lazarus pit, seriously read this, the characterizations are so fantastic; also it's important to me that you all know i am the number one talia truther ever and that shit about him sleeping with her in lost days is blocked from my mind.

ANYWAY. continuing point number five. i have too many thoughts on jason. in my mind and in this, i've changed a lot but that won't Actually be discussed here. there isn't much batfam interaction at all other than these mentions. steph, cass, and duke do appear towards the end (as well as some very very brief appearances by cassie, kon, and bart) but that's really it. it's not very batfam-centric at all, it's more centered around tim and reader.

6. and this is my last one i SWEAR i know the order in which the kids were mentioned in reader's narration was dick, jason, cass, tim, and damian, but if we were going by ages, it's dick, cass, jason, tim, and damian. it is again important to me that cass is a few months older than jason for no reason in particular other than i think it would annoy him and please her.

reblogs are appreciated!

#red robin #dc comics #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #red robin x reader #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #batfam x you #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n

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flashflashhundredyarddash · 3 years

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batkids and their relationships with their siblings headcanons. under read more because this got fucking LONGGG

dick

dick is the eldest so he doesnt want to bog down his younger siblings with his problems, but if he DOES, he tends to talk to jason about it

dick and cass start to really begin to bond when Cass shows up to dicks gymnastics class for 3rd-6th graders and then cass shows up all the sixth graders and they get frozen yogurt after lmao

dick and tim are Very much thick as thieves. tim is very much like bruce on the Emotional Suppression scale, so dick just really wants to make sure his little brother is safe and happy ALL the time

Duke and Damian are the only two really permanently at the manor anymore, so when dick drops by he tries to do something with both of them. duke frantically zoom calls dick every other week to help him with his his trig homework. dick shows up to dukes high school graduation with literally the BIGGEST SIGN

everyone insists damian is dicks favorite but he does actually genuinely love all his siblings equally, his relationship with damian is just Very different from the others because of the age gap and being dami's primary caretaker for a year. dick babies dami every chance he gets

jason

would sell Dick to satan for One corn chip

him and cass don't have the greatest start to their relationship because cass is very much Against Killing so it takes a while for jason to warm up to her and earn her trust. now, though, jason is competing with steph by showing cass all the classic American Teenager things she missed out on. steph is currently winning but jason is like 98% positive a crunch wrap from taco bell is going to push him over the edge

tim and jason are currently competing over who can solve the most cases in a month. tim is winning. that won't last long.

jason Loves to Big Brother duke its so embarrassing. duke will get out of school and go to his car and jason is SITTING IN THE FRONT SEAT FRANTICALLY WAVING TO GET DUKES ATTENTION. JASON THAT IS MY CAR. signal has one (1) mission with arsenal and arsenal goes hey did you ask that girl to homecoming yet and duke is like I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU.

Damian is proof that Actually, Little Brothers are Pests. Jason fully believes that he was brought back from the dead PURELY to torment damian and he will fulfill this mission at any cost

cassandra

it actually really upset her when Dick didn't accept her at first. she knows her other siblings really adore dick so his lack of trust was really disheartening. it takes dick a while but once he Actually Accepts that cass is going to be a permanent part of their life and oh, wow, dick you really hurt her feelings he really hyperfocuses on bonding with cass for a couple of months which definitely improves their relationship

she really likes jason!! their relationship doesn't start well but because he's close with steph and tim who are cass's top two favorite people to exist ever, cass is like well i GUESS ill hang out with him more. jason is fun to talk to because he always tries his best to explain jokes and give context to what people are talking about (also tim took her to taco bell already but she didn't tell jason she just wanted to hang out)

cass LOVES tim. they just click okay. tim always seems to know when to give her space and when to push and come closer. Tim's "guest room" is just her room lets be real. tim and cass occasionally get mistaken for twins and Cass Loves it.

duke makes cass listen to metal once and cass loses. her. damn. mind. they bond over music a lot because they both Love Music to a degree the others in their family don't.

damian!! damian is her little brother!!! dami isn't As Hostile to cass at first because he is 100% aware cass has the edge in fighting and respects her. cass likes all of his instagram posts and they have a snapchat streak going

tim

tim Loves dick, dick was his first sibling!! he had Very strong hero worship when he first met dick but it mellowed out when tim got older because wow 17 is really not that cool and mature lol. tim has an open invitation to dick's apartment which he does occasionally take advantage of. tim has more than once scared the shit out of wally when wally comes over and wally is convinced they're being robbed (HA) for half a second. i mean. he's not wrong.

listen. tim understands that forgiving the guy who tried to kill you would be a Struggle for some people and it was! definitely! but also at least he can trust jason to, uh, be open about if he doesn't like tim. which is not an assurance he has with other people. so if the guy who tried to kill him tells him tim is cool now then like. maybe tim isn't that bad or annoying a person? also jason arrested a whole gang and won the cases competition but then it created a power vacuum that the whole batfam had to clean up the rest of the month. thanks, jason.

tim LOVES cass. you know how most of the time theres this empty feeling inside you and you just kind of ignore it because you don't know what will fix it or if you do, you know you can't fix it? cass makes that empty feeling feel a little less empty. they just click. tim always tries to travel with cass whenever she leaves gotham.

tim and duke. Tim is actually the sibling who duke goes to whenever he has questions he doesn't want to ask bruce or alfred about, like, life or vigilante-ing or school or college or whatever and Tim is always like yes!! i love Giving Advice and Solving Problems!! tim and duke and jason fill out their college applications together.

tim and damian. LMAO. ROUGH START THAT'S ALL ILL SAY. at some point alfred goes like fuck it. family therapy. and tim and dami are PISSED. tim and damian get along best when they have a common enemy to work against. their relationship gets much better when damian is older and they actually talk about their feelings like emotionally stunted bats. despite how bad their relationship was, tim will ALWAYS protect damian

duke

very much intimidated by dick at first. dick is so much older and has his own job and friends and life and is very much AN ADULT. dick likes to take duke out to do lots of cool stuff (paintball, lasertag, tech exhibitions, concerts, etc). also, dick PERSONALLY introduced duke to superman and is dating THE FLASH. 10/10 awesome big brother.

was intimidated by jason for 0.5 seconds before jason actually opened his mouth and started speaking. jason is literally. So Embarrassing. which is weird because nobody else really seems to feel that way about jason but duke knows he's 100% in the right here. like yeah jason is also An Adult and does Adult Stuff but he's also at the manor like every other weekend???? and he always complains about bruce but always seems to be in the same room bruce is in????? like okay jason. they bond over literature!! jason and duke and alfred will spend literal hours talking about books and duke loves it. duke is the only one who doesn't think jason is funny and jason gets so upset about it lmao.

cass has this one week where she gets really into photography and by virtue of being nearby (and also not nocturnal), duke becomes her victim subject. duke prints out all the pictures and hangs them up in his room (his favorite is one he took when he stole the camera and took a really bad selfie of them together).

tim is closest in age to duke so duke tends to hang around with him a lot. tim introduced duke to his young justice friends and duke is like yes!!! meta-friends!!!! tim really helps duke out with his powers because tim is always like wow i wonder if your powers would work if we did This? can you see farther than other people? is your visible spectrum of light different than other humans? Bruce does the same thing but bruce is boring about it lol.

damian and duke live in the same house and will be in the same room and just send each other social media posts back and forth. they follow each other on instagram and will, OCCASIONALLY, make tik toks together because they're tik tok fiends. each of his siblings have visited his parents once or twice but damian routinely comes with him.

damian

damian gets a special bullet point to say that it took him. forever to come around to the idea of having siblings. he very much believed that he was Bruce's Blood Son and everyone else were just tagalongs or allies. it took him ages to acknowledge that dick, jason, tim, and cass were his siblings, so when duke came and like a week later damian was like Ah, Yes, this is my brother Thomas everyone else was like dude wtf

listen. LISTEN. Obviously. Richard is very highly skilled. and also Father values him highly. and also Richard will listen to Damian complain about his schoolmates. and also Richard is much more patient with Damian than other members of his family. listen....,,, (all this to say damian kind of fucking adores dick lmaooooo this kid).

Todd is kind of unbearable but damian has been informed this is both a normal feeling when it comes to Todd and also big brothers. damian was an only child for ten years so yes, Father, if Todd attempts to tickle me I WILL break his fucking nose. yes i WILL put money in the swear jar but I want you to know i don't regret it. they always try to sneak up on each other but mostly fail.

DRAKE!!! but no lol once damian grows up and is like I Apologize for attempting to murder you it was wrong and you are just as much a son to Father as I am tim is like UGH i guess its cool since ur being so emotionally mature and all. also im 2 for 5 on siblings trying to murder me so im definitely going to win trauma bingo and damian is like i take it back you are insufferable. When Will My Older Siblings Stop Joking About Their Trauma.

CASS!!! listen. cass is cool. Cass Gets It. They have a special Bond. also damian really likes it whenever cass is home because 1) he gets to hang out and do something cool with cass and 2) he feels significantly safer with cass in the house because Nobody will be able to hurt any of their family if Cass is there. ALSO he tries to call her cain but everyone is like DONT DO THAT and he doesn't want to call her wayne bcus theyre ALL wayne (dick adds it on as a middle name but also Richard John Wayne West-Grayson is just. the lamest name ever so dick needs to reconsider it before his upcoming nuptials)((dick will not reconsider it except maybe whether grayson-west would work better)) and so he tries cassandra but cass is like :) call me cass and damian is like cassandra is more formal and respectful and cass is like :) and finally damian just has to give in.

Duke! him and duke actually live together so they get the Most Bonding Time and have a bunch of inside jokes as a result. (is it bad i wanted to laugh because inside jokes... joker... i'll see myself out). they're eating breakfast together (and also alfred sits with them IM NOT A MONSTER ALFIE'S LIKE 70 NOW OKAY) and duke laughs and bruce is like what are you laughing at, son? and duke is like oh damian just showed me this funny meme and then he shows the phone to bruce and bruce grabs it (both the boys groan) and after WAY TOO LONG is like "i don't get it" and so now duke and damian have to try and explain the comedic intricacy of bob's burgers

#this took. two fucking hours #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #not sure which one to commit to yet #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #dc #the burd squawks #birdflash #birdflash was like. one of my first ships lmao

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tcm · 3 years

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The Visual Mastery of RUN LOLA RUN (’98) By Raquel Stecher

Half the fun of watching German director Tom Tykwer’s thriller RUN LOLA RUN (’98) is reveling in all of the visual details. There is so much to take in from Frank Griebe’s excellent cinematography to the brilliant use of color and objects that enhance the film’s themes. RUN LOLA RUN stars Franka Potente as Lola, a young woman who must secure 100,000 Deutschmarks and deliver the money to her boyfriend Manni (Moritz Bleibtreu), who desperately needs the cash to pay off a violent gangster. Lola has 20 minutes to complete her mission. The film explores three different outcomes as Lola encounters a variety of obstacles along the way.

Let’s first look at the film’s brilliant use of color. Red and yellow are strategically associated with the two lead characters. Lola is presented with the color red. Her hair is dyed bright red, and each of the three-time loops begins with her hanging up a red phone. Red continually appears at various points in her story, whether it’s a bicycle thief wearing a red shirt or her carrying a red bag full of cash. The image of Potente wearing a red wig and running through the streets of Berlin has become the visual symbol of RUN LOLA RUN and usually the first thing that people will remember about the film. Yellow is Manni’s color. He calls Lola from a yellow telephone booth as he contemplates robbing the grocery store across the street, which just happens to be adorned with yellow fixtures and trim.

Red can be seen to symbolize passion but is also represents speed, especially since Lola is moving at such a frantic pace. Yellow is the complete opposite. It symbolizes the tension-filled act of waiting. This can be observed in one particular scene in which workers dressed in yellow hazmat suits carry a large piece of glass from one side of the street to another. They are confronted with a red ambulance driving at a high speed to bring a cardiac patient to the hospital. This scene is played out in each of the three scenarios with a different result. In other scenes, Lola passes a yellow subway tram, a visual reminder that time is passing and Manni is waiting for her.

One of my favorite, and a bit more subtle, use of color in the film is when green is associated with some form of authority. When Lola visits her dad’s bank to ask for money, his office is adorned with green furniture and a large green painting that Lola rips off the wall in anger. In one scenario, policemen driving green and white vehicles and dressed in green uniforms confront Lola and Manni.

Because the film is so focused on time—not only how Lola is pressed for time but also how one small act can change one’s destiny—clocks and watches are important symbols that pop up throughout the film. There is a big ornate clock in Lola’s bedroom, the face of which is taped over with green stickers, which could be seen as a symbol of how time exerts its authority over her. Manni is constantly checking the clock that hangs above the grocery store entrance, Lola shatters the glass clock in her father’s office with her ear-piercing scream and an old lady checks her watch to give Lola the time. In the casino scene, Lola chooses to play the number 20 on the roulette wheel, which plays to the fact that she only has 20 minutes on the clock to finish the job.

Tom Tykwer drew a lot of inspiration from Alfred Hitchcock’s classic thriller VERTIGO (’58). For the casino scene, Tykwer had production designer fill in empty space on the wall by creating a replica of the iconic Carlotta painting from Hitchcock’s film. VERTIGO also inspired the spiral motif that can be seen throughout the film. As Manni calls from the yellow phone booth, the viewer can spot a shop called Spirale in the background complete with a spiraling fixture. When Lola sets out on her mission, she runs down a spiral staircase, presented in the film through animation rather than live-action. As each of the time loops resets, we see Lola and Manni, contemplating life while resting on pillows with a spiral print.

Cinematographer Frank Griebe also employs the sensation of vertigo through many excellent camera shots. Arc shots, in which the camera circles a subject, are used throughout the film. There are lots of tight close-ups, tracking shots, low angle-shots and top-down perspectives, which beautifully demonstrate the heightened emotion and tension felt by the characters. The camera is constantly moving and so is the imagery. In addition to animation, there are black-and-white flashback scenes, stop motion sequences and when time stops for a moment, those scenes are presented with a hazy filter. The bounty of visual symbolism and the film’s frenetic pace make RUN LOLA RUN a highly enjoyable experimental thriller.

#Run Lola Run #TCM imports #foreign film #german film #experimental film #1990s #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #Raquel Stecher

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iphoenixrising · 3 years

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DickTim Week Day 4: Dark!Dick and Vampire!Tim

So. So. *Steeples fingers* this may or may not be the fic for you. Yet another combination prompt because the people on the Capes and Coffee Discord are fucking enablers. You know who you are.

Warnings for: captivity, blood-letting, missing-in-time Bruce

The hidden bunker is outside the city limits of Gotham, a perfect place to stay off the grid.

Officer Grayson makes the drive with the radio on WKKG, All Gotham, All the Time. He moves his head to the beat of the pop song blaring over the line.

The outside of the abandoned gas station looks positively deserted and if they were any more rural, tumble weeds would be rolling around the decrepit gas pumps.

Officer Grayson parks around the back of the building out of sight and grabs the paper bags from the passenger side, holds his cup of coffee in the same hand, whistles to himself as he gets out of the police cruiser.

A complex locking system on a seemingly outdated walk-in freezer opens up to an elevator that is decidedly the newest fixture in the place.

He hums the chorus of the pop song from the radio on the way down, small smile on his face reflecting back at him from the mirrored doors.

The underground is a completely different world.

Apparently constructed to be a bunker, the basement is lead-lined and spacious with all processes set-up to stay off the grid, perfect for his needs. He has a separate power supply, a separate HVAC system, a security system with nearly imperceptible cameras to make sure no one, no one gets close enough to the property without alerting him immediately.

And he certainly doesn’t want anyone finding his personal mission here.

Officer Grayson puts one of the grocery bags down on a table littered with notebooks and read-outs he’d left the last time after he’d gotten samples. He sips on his coffee as he walks around the first room, lit only by the emergency lights at the top of the low-slung ceiling, and turns on the power, turns on the lights in the rest of the bunker.

The beeps behind him are the locks resetting on the elevator, the only way out.

Dick is still humming when he passes into the next room, blocked on either end with thick, metal doors complete with a complex locking mechanism and impressive alarm system. The many tables in this room are filled with laboratory equipment, a biotechnician’s playground.

Half-completed analyses are still running on the impressive screens mounted overhead, status bar at 68%.

Five-gallon buckets under the tables with black Sharpie denote chemical names with dates scribbled hastily below.

Dick sips his coffee as he looks up at the running totals, makes mental notes, compares previous tests and results.

It’s discouraging, but Dick just sighs to himself. Of all vigilantes in Gotham, he’s the optimist, and he knows that each failure will just bring him closer and closer to success. He just can’t give up.

Bruce is counting on them.

With his coffee and bag in one hand, he lets the analysis churn, and enters his code in the next door, then places a palm print on the pad outside. Leans down so his eye scan can be completed.

Unlike the other rooms, the lights come on the second the door fully unlocks and opens to allow Dick entrance.

The reason for that is to turn on the intense sun lamps to further weaken the figure strapped down to the gurney in the center of the room, strategically lessening the possibility of an attack.

Dick puts the bag and his coffee down on the only table in the room.

“Sorry I didn’t come yesterday. Rupert Thorne had a big shipment planned and we were up late tracking it,” his voice is light and cheery, his smile wide and white. He comes to the side of the gurney, takes note of the slight burning smell that always seems to permeate the room no matter how much he tries to avoid it by making sure there’s always something between skin and pure silver. Struggling dislodges whatever he uses, so the result is the smell of burning flesh.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment, looking down at Timmy’s closed eyes and painfully pale face.

His frown deepens when Tim Drake rolls his head over to face the wall instead.

Silver chains wrap his arms, legs, neck, and torso, rendering him utterly immobile. Holy relics hang over the gurney as an added safety measure. He’s completely naked under a flimsy sheet.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” He asks softly. “I’m letting Alfred pick up Dami so I can spend some extra time with you today.”

IVs are grotesquely hooked into each major artery, set on slow drain. The multiple blood bags hooked under the gurney show the slow trickle as the bags fill to a crawl.

Tim’s violet-blue eyes crack open a sliver, but he doesn’t look away from the wall, away from freedom.

“That isn’t very nice,” Dick’s tone stays soft, yet firm. “You know what I’m trying to do here.”

The sound of Tim trying to swallow is heard over the soft mechanical beeping, the hum of working equipment. “You know how important you are to this, Timmy. I don’t like how you keep refusing to be a team player.” Dick pauses just a moment, eyes narrow, “is this still about Damian being Robin now? Because you know how many times we’ve been over this.”

Tim closes his eyes again, a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“Well, I think you’ve been sulking about it long enough,” Dick brusquely throws the sheet out of the way to show IVs, burns, and the network of complicated blood vessels below deathly pale skin. “You knew even before you went to Iraq my choices were the best for everyone, not just you.”

Dick checks all the leads, makes sure the drip is slow. He doesn’t so much as lift up the solid silver chains and nudge them with the cloth he keeps underneath, the point of it is to try and keep Tim’s skin from burning, temporarily cauterizing his veins and killing the supply. The last time the chains were displaced this much, Dick had made the mistake of lifting one, giving Tim enough power to bare his fangs and lunge. Since then, the chains have stayed put, only shuffled around a little.

“And if you would have just listened to me and stayed in Gotham, you wouldn’t have been caught by vampires in the first place. You know that, don’t you? If you would have worked with us at home, Ra’s would have never taken that much of an interest and led them right to you. Heck, you might still be alive and have your spleen.”

Shaking his head in frustration at all the events from last year when Bruce’s body was brought back, when the Battle for the Cowl had forced him to raise his hand against Jason again and break his heart over Little Wing again, when he knew Tim didn’t need any more mentorship, didn’t need the support and encouragement Damian did after losing their father, and the ultimate decision to let Tim decide his own future after Robin, when seeing Tim six months after his disappearance as a vampire in a cape, all of it had made the choice on how to handle this situation.

How to fix everything that had gone so horribly wrong.

Do what he had to do, try disseminating the secrets of immortality so they could bring Bruce back.

And like this, Tim is going to help him do it.

“But it’s okay,” he’s back to smiling again, “we’ve worked past all that, haven’t we, Timmy?” Dick is satisfied all the leads are fine and the slow flow unimpeded. He steps back to the bag on the table.

In one hand is a pint of O Positive. In the other, a Krispy Kreme with sprinkles.

Both their favorites.

“C’mon,” he cajoles after taking a bite of his donut, “it’s one of Steph’s extra pints. I know you’re going to like it.”

He holds the oozing bag to Tim’s averted mouth and patiently waits, nibbles on his donut in the other hand.

“Why don’t,” and the tone is hoarse, faint because Timmy mostly doesn’t really talk to him anymore, “you just kill me?”

Dick pauses mid-chew, blinking down at the eyes filling with bloody tears, the hitch in the chest that doesn’t really move anymore.

Dick swallows the bite, suddenly more like ash than icing in his mouth. “You know I can’t do that,” is more harsh than he means. “We don’t kill. Not even vampires.”

“Then let me go.”

“Can’t let you go out and kill people either, Tim, and I need the supply for testing.”

“This is torture. This is fucking torture and you don’t even give a shit about me anymore–”

With a flick of his fingers, a crucifix falls right on Tim’s chest, and the screams are awful, horrible, but that is probably never going to outweigh the smell.

By the time Dick finishes his donut, Tim is weakly writhing in agony and the screams have died down to soft whimpers, mouth open to show those killer fangs.

He dusts his hands off and pulls on a glove from the Nightwing suit under his uniform, gingerly lifts the holy item off, grimaces when tissue and flesh stick to it.

“Kill me,” Timmy whimpers. “Just fucking kill me.”

Dick scoffs and takes the chance to lean down, presses his mouth to Tim’s forehead. “You know I can’t lose anyone else,” is the softest of reprimands. “Don’t worry. Once I just figure this out, we’ll get Bruce back and he’ll help us reverse the turning. Before you know it, this will seem like just a bad dream.”

Dick presses another kiss to each eyelid, talking softly against the deceptively soft yet immortal skin. “And when you’re back to yourself, we can be together again. I’ll take care of you just like I used to, promise.”

Dick leans back up with a small smile on his face and familiar fondness in his eyes. He holds the bag up to Tim’s mouth again, ignores the red tears streaming down the pale face. “We’ll get there, okay? I’m close to the answers we need. I just need a little more time. But, I have to have samples to work with, which means you to drink, Timmy.”

Like usual, the pink tracks down his face stand out starkly in the false sunlight when Tim finally gives in and punctures the bag with his fangs.

#how is this my life #dicktim #dicktimweek2021 #dick grayson #tim drake #vampire!tim #dark!dick grayson #tw: captivity #this might not be for you #and that's okay #winter goes a little off the rails #because writing #my fic #my writing

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dibs4ever · 3 years

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Family photo

17-year-old Barbara Gordon was practically skipping up the steps of Wayne manor. Too excited to contain herself over what she held in her hands

Giving the door two knocks and only waiting 5 seconds when Alfred opened it

“Ms. Gordon, you and Master Dick have been walking to school together for 6 months now. I told you to just come in.”

She smiled, stepping into the manor “Sorry Alfie, my dad taught me to always knock, guess it’s a habit” she shrugged

Alfred nodded

“Where is the Boy Wonder?” She asked glancing around the foyer for her friend

Alfred sighed “It seems the young lad is tired and sluggish this morning after last night's patrol. He is still sleeping in his bed. I have been trying to wake him for 30 minutes. Perhaps you may have better luck?”

Barbara nodded “I have something to show him anyways.” She began up the stairs

“And Ms.Gordon,” Alfred spoke

Barbara nodded, continuing up the stairs “I know, I know-keep the door open.” Not like Alfred had anything to worry about. Furthest they’d ever gone was kissing. Once on a dare at his birthday party than a few weeks back for an undercover mission

She reached Dick’s bedroom door and smiled at the lump in the bed. There Dick lay, face down in his pillow, the blanket covering only the left side of his body. Dressed in only his white boxers with red polka dots.

She strutting into the room, clutching the paper in her hand. “Grayson get up” she sat on the side of the bed and patted his butt “Come on up and at em” she repeated resting a hand on his muscular calf

He let out a grunt

Barbara smiled but rolled her eyes, sitting on her knees she leaned forward so her face was next to his. His eyes still closed. If she didn’t know any better she’d think he was still fast asleep

“Dick wakes up I have-“

She was cut off when Dick used his arm to pull her down, so she was laying next to him. Pulling her flush against him, hugging her tightly “You are such a cuddle bug when you’re tired” she mumbled into his chest, his body heat radiating off of him to her

He nodded, nuzzling his head into her neck

She could feel light butterfly kisses from his eyelashes grazing her skin. Creating butterflies of her own in the pit of her belly. Lately, the Boy Wonder had been having that effect on her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She definitely wasn’t going to let him know that.

“Dick comes on- we’ll be late for school and like I said I want to show you something I found.” She patted his back encouraging him to move

He did, but not to get up. Shifting himself so she was lying on the mattress and he was hovering over her. Leaning on his elbows to keep a respectable distance, his dark locks hanging messily around his face, almost like a small curtain, she noted. He was awake now. She knew because his bright blue eyes bore into her green ones and he was giving her that goofy smirk that could make her say yes to anything.

“Hey” he whispered huskily, his throat dry from sleep

She smiled up at him “Hey” she spoke softly. Those Damn butterfly’s coming to her throat. She had decided to just attribute these new feelings to teenage hormones and NOT to Dick. There was no way he felt the same, besides. They were friends and she was finally starting to gain Batman’s trust as a vigilante. How bad would it look if she made a move on him?

“Whatcha got to show me Babsy that’s got you so excited on a Tuesday?” Dick reached down tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

She lifted her arm and passed the photo she’d printed to him.

Dick looked at it and sat up once he realized who it was off, Barbara followed in suit, both sitting side by side on the edge of his bed.

“Babs, where did you find this?” He practically gasped

She smiled “I’ve been doing archival research of newspapers in my free time”

Dick looked toward her “For me?”

Barbara shrugged “Ever since we did that genetics assignment in Chem class a few months ago and you told me the only photo you had of your parents was that faded wedding picture and that there are no pictures of you before you were 8 I got to thinking there had to be at least one more published by a newspaper. I mean you guys traveled to so many different cities ya know.”

Dick nodded still in astonishment of the photo

He placed a finger over them then read the newspapers caption out loud

“Haley’s circus was in town this weekend. Among the many acts, one crowd favorite was the Acrobats. The famous flying Grayson’s. Here they are pictured above with their 8-month-old son Richard. Who travels with them. “

She smiled “You were such a cute baby.”

He grinned “I guess I was Huh?” He looked up from the photo

“Babs this is amazing not only do I have a better picture of my parents I have a photo of me as a baby to show my- I mean I well “

“Future kids? If we don’t get killed or become infertile from injuries before that ?”

Dick nodded “and given I find a partner willing to have babies with a vigilante.”

She laughed lightly “That’s true”

Dick was looking back at the photo again “Babs I’m taken back I could kiss you right now.” He paused “I didn’t mean to say that, I’m so focused on this beautiful family picture you found it just -Thank you so much for doing this for me”

Barbara leaned over placing a peck on his cheek “Your welcome Grayson”

#dickbabs #dick grayson #barbara gordon #nightwing #batgirl #batfam headcanons

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thebad---catholic · 3 years

Text

Snyder Cut review (No Spoilers)

I’ve seen this movie twice in 24 hours. You’ve seen the theatrical release, forget about it. That no longer happened, as far as I’m concerned. You’re in for a completely new (and far better) experience.

Storytelling and writing.

Just *chefs kiss*. There’s proper buildup for every major component of the plot. There’s some exposition, but it’s done so beautifully it doesn’t take you out today the story at all. It’s not really backstory so much, but instead tiny stories tucked neatly within a greater narrative. The shitty jokes that everyone made fun of are not here and it’s not missed. It takes itself seriously, without looping back into ridiculousness. It’s not condescending either; it shows what it can and tells only what it has too.

The four hours aren’t superfluous like I’d feared. The story takes its time, establishing our characters and their personalities, our villains motives, and still manages a satisfying payoff. Each of the 6 parts work to accomplish different things and all feel distinct.

The final part of the epilogue kind of confused me? I can’t explain why without spoiling it, so I’ll just say this: if this experience has taught me anything, it’s to trust Zack Snyder.

Visuals

Now, I will say this- there are some points where the cgi feels a little weak. However, there are so many stunning visuals that more than make up for it. Several times I would just look at a shot and wish I could print it out and hang it on my wall. It’s not as bright as the theatrical release (and that’s a good thing) but everything remains easy to distinguish

Cyborg

Holy shit. Quite possibly my favorite character in this movie. The theatrical release massacred his character, and nerfed him to high hell. In the theatrical release, he feels...extra? Like “oh cool, look at this robot guy”. In the Snyder cut he’s integral, far more powerful, and adds real heart to the movie. Just perfect. I’m like, actually angry about how he was treated by Joss Wheadon

Flash

The other emotional lynchpin in this movie. He can be a little annoying sometimes, but honestly? I’m pretty sure that was intentional. You get the sense that Barry is processing the world so much faster than it’s coming at him, making him a little overbearing and awkward. He’s responsible for the majority of the breathtaking scenes, and his chemistry with Cyborg and Batman is adorable.

Lois

So much better than the theatrical release. This movie made you care about her grief. The world lost Superman, but she lost Clark. Like the others, she feels like she belongs in this movie instead of just being thrown in. The same sentiment extends to Martha, but to a lesser degree.

Wonder Woman

Queen. Absolutely carries the first three parts of the movie. She’s a fucking tank and we love that for her. Personality wise, she’s among my favorite renditions of WW: kind and loving to the people she protects, and a fucking savage to the people she’s protecting them from. Not a fan of wonderbat, but nothing is concrete which helps me ignore it.

Not the same note, I love love love the Amazons. They’re so cool.

Superman

The amount of ass Superman kicks in this movie is, quite frankly, disrespectful. He’s terrifying, and the DCU is very lucky he’s a good guy. Anyway I love him.

Batman and Aquaman

Honestly, I’d say they’re a little out shown by everyone else, but the movie obviously wouldn’t be complete without them. Alfred and Bruce’s dynamic is much more natural, and Aquaman isn’t just the meathead he was in the Wheadon version. They’re both badass in their own right.

Conclusion

Go watch it. The first hour is the hardest to get through, but after that, you feel like no time passes at all.

Just a solid movie. I say 8.5/10

#dc cinematic universe #dceu #dc comics #dcu #dc #justice league #zack snyder #justice league snyder cut #batman #Superman #Wonder Woman #the flash #aquaman #cyborg #jla #justice league movie

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fearfulkittenwrites · 3 years

Text

“Just a normal night”

Inspired by @s-mscott - link for the art, please check it out!

Word count: 2832

Notes: HEY. THIS IS JUST BEEN SITTING ON MY FILES FOR THE LONGEST TIME AND I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT DKJFHAKJHAKJDFH. Anyway, it's a long time coming. The writing probs isn't as neat or as good as the latest uploads bc of that, but... idk. Hopefully it's good! I couldn't bring myself to edit it again, sorry about that. I hope you can enjoy it anyways and please go check out the artist, @s-mscott!

“Guys?” Dick asked, on his tiptoes as he rummaged through every cabinet in the huge kitchen “Hey are we out of cereal? I can’t find my Lucky Charms anywhere.”

“I think so.” Jason answered “I ate the last of the Lucky Charms last night.”

“Yep.” Tim said, popping the ‘p’ as he slid through the countertop, landing a bit behind Dick “I had the last of the frosted flakes two days ago.”

“Froot Loops?” Dick asked.

“I had those.” Duke answered “Sorry.”

“Fruity Pebbles?”

Cass raised her hand, looking at the ground.

“Reese’s Puffs?”

“I finished the box yesterday.” Damian announced, crossing his arms as he leaned against the marble sink.

“Damn.” Dick murmured and pouted as he closed the cabinet’s door “I’ve been craving cereal today.”

“We can always go get some.” Jason shrugged.

“At three in the morning?” Duke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Actually, four.” Jason corrected, putting up a finger “And yeah, why not? I mean, we had a hard patrol tonight, and if Dick wants some cereal, I say let’s go get some cereal.”

“It’s four in the morning, Todd.” Damian said.

“I mean, the closest Walmart is open 24/7.” Tim interfered.

“You can’t be seriously considering this, Grayson.” Damian frowned at his older brother.

“Why not? I’m not sleepy anyways.” Dick crossed his arms and shrugged.

“Yes!” Jason hissed “Late night adventures with the baby bats. Let’s roll!” He clapped his hands once, and started to walk out of the kitchen, his siblings following him to the garage.

“Oh wait!” Dick said “Let’s ring up Bruce and see if there’s anything else we need.”

“Bold of you to assume he’d know what we need.” Tim interfered.

“Yeah, well, it’s worth a shot. Plus, do any of us really want to wake up Alfred to ask him?” Dick said, taking his communicator out of his pocket and placing it in his ear “B? Have a sec?” He asked

“Nightwing. What’s wrong?” Came the answer, Batman’s raspy voice flowing through the device.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. We’re going to take a quick trip to the supermarket, I wanted to ask if you need anything.”

“... At four in the morning?”

“Yeah. Do you need anything?”

Bruce sighed.

“We’re running out of the coffee blend that Tim likes. Alfred the cat’s favorite treats have been gone since last week, and Cass’ favorite ice cream is done. Oh, buy Duke that soda he likes, I drank the last can. Also, Jason’s cookies and that brand of chips you like, we ran out of those. Oh, and buy something with Iron in it, I’m worried that Damian might not be getting enough.”

“Like spinach?” Dick said, writing it down on his phone’s notes.

“Yeah, that’ll do. Ah, and we’re a little low on milk.”

“Okay. Will keep that in mind. Thanks B, have a nice patrol.”

“Please don’t give the papers any headlines.”

“You got it, B. Bye.”

He placed the device back on his pocket.

“Okay, there’s a lot of stuff to buy, so let’s get going. I’ll drive.”

“Shotgun!” Jason yelled.

“We’re taking the S.U.V., one of you will need to ride in the trunk.” Dick said.

“I’ll go.” Cass’ eyes twinkled. No one could understand why she was always so fascinated with the idea of riding in the trunk, but she seemed to find it fun and all of them thought that her excitement was cute.

“Alright then.” Dick smiled, ruffling her hair. Her grin grew wider, and Duke set her hair straight again before they got into the car.

“Hey, can I play my music?” Tim asked from the backseat.

“Don’t force us to listen to the atrocity Drake calls music, Grayson.” Damian complained, arms crossed “Let me play something.”

“Uh, I’d rather not listen to Mozart and Bach while we’re in the car.” Duke protested.

“It’s called classic for a reason, Thomas.”

“Doesn’t matter, bat-brat.” Jason said “I’m with him on this one. Besides, universal car rules, shotgun DJ’s.”

“Since when?” Tim asked.

“Since now.” Jason said, plugging his phone in.

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Dick took the cord from him “According to ‘Supernatural’ rules, ‘Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole’. So that’s mine.”

“No one else watches this show Dickhead!” Jason pulled the cord back.

“Doesn’t matter, because I’m older!” Dick pulled it back again.

“Age is just a number!” Tim pushed himself to the front seat and took the cord back.

“Great point Drake!” Damian pulled him back by his waist, stealing the cord from him too.

“Hey, stop with the fuss, I’m gonna crash the car!” Dick said.

“Maybe we should just play Beyoncé...” Duke suggested. The car went silent for a while.

“Okay.” Dick said “Put on ‘Single Ladies’.”

“No. ‘Halo’ is her best.” Damian complained.

“Uhm, no way? I’m playing ‘Drunk in Love’, and that’s it.” Tim shot back.

“Are you crazy? Play ‘Formation’.” Duke interfered.

“I like ‘Run the World’...” Cass said quietly from the trunk.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim murmured “We’ll play that.”

The girl smiled as the first notes from the song filled the car.

There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, which was expected. They picked up two carts, and Dick hopped inside the one Jason was pushing.

“Dude!” Duke started “You’re in your mid-twenties!”

“Leave me alone, I nearly sprained my ankle today.” Dick stuck his tongue out. No one else questioned anything beyond that. The employees simply sighed, used to the two older brothers and their antics.

“Hey Parker.” Jason greeted the nighttime security guard.

“Hey. I see you two brought the whole gang tonight.” He answered.

“Yup.” Dick smiled.

“So this is a regular thing for the two of you?” Duke asked.

“Are you really surprised, Duke?” Tim shot back.

“No. Not really.”

“Okay. First stop, Bruce said we need to get Tim’s coffee.” Dick exclaimed, looking at the list.

Jason led the way, Dick grinning like a child on the cart, Cass quietly following as she pushed their second cart, Duke making friendly conversation with her while Tim and Damian kept bickering right behind them.

“Oh, wait!” Dick held on to the metal bars “We’re right next to the cookies and Bruce said we’re out of your favorites, Jay.” He looked up.

“Alright, a little detour then.” Jason turned them around, quickly grabbing his treats “Anyone wants anything else from this aisle?”

“But... We don’t need anything else from the aisle.” Duke pointed out.

“Um, we have a billionaire’s credit card?” Tim said “Bruce won’t freak out if we buy a few extra things.”

“Uuuh, they have those koala shaped cookies!” Dick hopped out of the cart “How many do I get?”

“I want one.” Cass said.

“Chocolate or strawberries?”

“Uh… I want both.” She answered.

“Okay, one each for the lady, two strawberries for me...”

“I want a chocolate one.” Tim said.

“Me too.” Damian asked.

“Oh, just take twenty boxes, ten of each flavor.” Jason interfered, dumping them on Cass’ cart “We’ll share later.”

“Oh my God, those are expensive!” Duke said, exasperated.

“Yeah. So?” Jason shot back.

“Bruce is a billionaire, bro. He won’t mind.” Dick said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, it’s easy for you guys to say it. You grew up like that. It’s kinda hard to accept this when you aren’t used to having so much.” Duke answered, scratching his neck.

“Hey, I get that feeling lil’ bro.” Jason tapped his back “I spent my childhood in Gotham’s streets.”

“Yeah. I mean, I grew up in the circus. I wasn’t used to the idea of getting brand new stuff instead of asking for hand-me-downs from our friends whenever I grew out of my clothes.” Dick interfered.

“But... Just think about it like this.” Jason got closer to him “We now can get everything we couldn’t in the past.”

Duke frowned. Jason nodded encouragingly.

“That... Doesn’t help.”

“I tried.” Jason shrugged. Dick hopped back in the cart “To the coffee aisle!” He exclaimed, pushing his brother around.

“Hang on.” Tim said “This is where they leave the energy drinks. Let me take some.”

“Why do you insist on drinking this crap, Drake?” Damian scowled, reading the label in one of the cans “If you have such a death wish, jumping in front of a train is a much cheaper, quicker alternative.”

“Shut up, little devil.” Tim picked up cans from his favorite brand.

“Jason, push me a little farther down the aisle, please.” Dick asked “They keep their iced teas over there.”

“Ugh, Grayson, you disgust me.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so judgemental Lil’ D.” He smiled, being pushed away by Jason.

As they examined the cans, Dick noticed he had attracted the looks of a middle aged man, a couple of steps from them. He was staring at his hoodie, that contained the frase ‘I love dick’ printed on it.

“Oh,” He exclaimed, smiling at the guy “My name is Richard. That’s why it’s funny.” The man nodded “I’m also queer as fuck, so that makes it better.” He added nonchalantly, and the man’s eyes widened “Okay Jay, I picked up all I wanted, let’s go back.”

“Alright you little shits, back to the coffee quest.” Jason said, leading the way once again. This time, they finally made it to the coffee aisle. Tim crouched down, looking for his favorite blend.

Cass got a little curious once she laid eyes on a colorful package on the top shelf. She picked it up and handed it to Dick.

“Read. Please.”

“This is an espresso roast. Here it says that it has notes of strawberry? Vanilla and... Sugar cane. Colombian coffee. Seems nice. Wanna take it?”

“Yes.” She nodded. Dick dropped it on his cart.

Cass wandered away, still looking at all of the coffee blends.

“Hey girlie,” A guy whistled at her, next to his group of friends “Nice ass.”

She squinted at them.

“Yo, asshole!” Tim screamed, getting their attention “That’s our sister!” He threw a bag of coffee beans at the guy’s face, causing his nose to bleed.

“Hey, who do you think you are?” One of them started to walk up to her brothers. Cass could tell that he wanted trouble, so she grabbed his arm and slammed his face against the shelf, so quickly and brutally that it barely budged, leaving the products unbothered, but the guy fell to the floor, disoriented. She stared at him.

“We are Waynes.” Damian answered, pacing towards them quietly, hands on his pockets “I suggest you apologize immediately for the troubles, if you wouldn’t want to get a hefty lawsuit for your harrasment.”

“Uh, sorry bro.” One of them started, a little scared “We didn’t-”

“Not to me.” He interrupted “To her.”

“We’re sorry, miss Wayne.” All of them mumbled.

“Now promise you won’t do it again.” Damian added.

“We won’t do it again.” They started at the floor, next to where their fallen friend laid down.

“Good.” He squinted “Help your friend up, and get out of my sight.”

They did as they were told, helping his friend walk straight again. As Cass headed back, Dick gently touched her arm, looking up at her.

“Hey, are you alright?” She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He smiled back.

“Does this happen often?” Jason asked.

“Sometimes.” She shrugged “But they always say sorry after I break their nose.”

“Ayy, that’s our girl.” Jason praised “Alright, we got the coffee. Where to next?”

“Let’s see... Next item is Alfred the cat’s treats.” Dick said.

“Ha!” Damian laughed loudly “As if Alfred would eat the... peasant treats that this store offers. No. I’ve already bought the adequate brand from an online shop.”

“Okay...” Dick raised an eyebrow “Then... Cass’ ice cream is next, but I think we should leave that as the last item, so it won’t melt, which leads us to Duke’s soda because Bruce had the last can.”

“Let’s go then. I think that the cereal aisle is on the way, so we’ll get that first.” Jason said, pushing the cart around again.

“Which ones do we get?” Tim asked, looking through the shelf.

“Everything that has sugar.” Dick answered. His brother began handing him boxes, when they heard a small whisper.

“Oh my God, are those...?” A girl said to her friend, attracting the eyes of the siblings. The duo averted their gaze quickly. Cass frowned at them.

“Relax.” Jason smiled, placing an arm on her back “They’re probably just... Fans.”

“Fans?” She asked, still staring suspiciously at them.

“Yeah.” Dick shrugged “I mean, we’re not super stars, but we do hit the papers pretty often. A bunch of people know us here in Gotham.” The girls were looking again, and Dick gave them a small wave, making them giggle “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“Hum.”

“Hey there, ladies.” Jason greeted, a cheeky smile on his face “What brings you to this fine establishment tonight?”

“We ran out of energy drinks.” One of them answered “What about you?”

“Cereal.” Dick answered, lifting two boxes. They giggled again.

“Hey, um... can we maybe get a picture?” The girl asked “It’s just that... no one will believe us when we tell them about this.”

“Absolutely not!” Damian answered.

“Nah, don’t listen to the little brat.” Jason said “Go ahead.”

Dick held up the boxes again, smiling as Jason made a ‘crazy’ motion with his hands. Tim turned around as the photo was being taken, turning him into a blurr with tired eyes.

“Can we get some selfies too?” The other one asked, grinning.

“No!” Damian protested again.

“Of course you can!” Dick said “Duke, Cass, come here.” He called.

All of them gathered around the cart Dick was staying at, even Damian. He didn’t look so pleased as the photo was taken, but neither did Cass.

“Thanks. You guys really are nice.” The first girl said.

“Oh, you have no clue on how nice I can be.” Jason winked, making her blush “Tell you what, why don’t I give you my phone number and you can text me those pictures later, hm?”

“Sure.” The girl bit her lips as Jason scribbled his number on her wrist.

“You are such a flirt.” Dick rolled his eyes as the girls walked away.

“What, like you aren’t?” Jason snorted, pushing him away, looking for where they kept the soda.

“I think Cass didn’t like that interaction very much.” Tim whispered to his older brothers, who turned around to find a frowning baby bat. Jason chuckled.

“What’s wrong, sis?” She scowled at him “Oh, c’mon, don’t get jealous.” He threw an arm around her shoulder “You know you’ll always be our number one girl, but a guy has his needs. And sometimes, a guy needs a date.”

Cass pushed him away, rolling her eyes as Duke placed five soda cans on her cart.

“Why would you even drink this sugar filled monstrosity, Thomas?” Damian asked, reading the labels “Grandfather wouldn’t even feed his prisoners something as revolting as this.”

“Because, Bat-brat,” He said “We’re all entitled to enjoy at least one or two things that may ultimately be responsible for our deaths.”

“I suppose.” He murmured, lifting an eyebrow “You make much finer points than the rest of them. Father has been looking for heirs in the least suitable places, I assume.” He clicked his tongue “It’s a good thing I’m here to help.”

“Okay...” Duke answered, raising his eyebrows and averting his gaze. There was only so much strangeness that he could handle.

“Great, now we need to get my chips and spinach.” Dick stated.

“Spinach?” Tim asked “Why spinach?”

“B thinks Damian may have been needing more iron in his diet.” Dick shrugged.

“Aaw.” Tim said “That’s actually kinda cute. Do you think he ever worries about our diets?”

“Don’t be stupid Tim, of course he doesn’t.” Jason answered.

“He does.” Dick shot back “He worries about us, he just... Really, really, really, reaaaally sucks at showing it sometimes.”

“Potatoe, potatoe.” Jason murmured.

“Yeah, whatever. Keep me moving Little Wing, we have stuff to pick up and my tiredness is catching up to me.” Dick pointed forward.

“Sure. But the chips are in the opposite direction.”

“Well turn me around then, do you want me to look like an idiot?” Dick said, a little exasperated.

“I wish you had an off button sometimes.” Jason sighed as he made his way to the chips section.

An employee, mopping the floor with a bored expression, looked up from what he was doing when he saw the Wayne gang talking loudly. Dick tried to control his brothers from inside the cart, and had just told Jason to separate a fight between Tim and Damian. Duke and Cass snicker as they saw a bored, six feet tall Jason pushing his much smaller brothers apart.

“Yep.” The employee murmured to himself “Billionaires shopping at Walmart at four in the morning. Just a normal night.”

Hey! If you made it this far, please consider reblogging this? It helps with spreading my fics and it makes me very happy, hahahaha!

Regardless, thanks for reading <3

#batfamily #BatFam #Batbrothers #batsiblings #fanfiction

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joat-jackofalltrades · 3 years

Text

Batfam OC Headcanons

These headcanons are all about my superfamily, who I've dubbed the Shadefam. I have post dedicated to their basic info, here. I'm posting this for fun and to invite others to make their own super family or OC family with far too many headcanon and random chapters for a book that'll never be written.

BTW when I say S1, S2, or S3 I'm referring to the certain seasons in Young Justice

Buck- trans ftm taken in by Faith at age 12 because his father isn’t able to properly take care of him. (His dad loves and accepts him, but is very broke and wants what’s best for his son)

Hope is taken in by her sister at age 8 in 2013 when their mother died

Buck dates Bart for a period of time before they mutually agree to break up, both lowkey being attached to other teammates at the time (Jaime and Tim)

Faith is bi and doing fine

Grace is lesbian and freaking disaster

Hope is ace and valid

Buck is trans/gay and perfect

Cody is ace/aro and chillin with his homies

Faith and Grace had a fling for a few months but broke up mutually

Grace has a butch lesbian girlfriend named Joana

They always go to pride and their hero atls hang different pride flags the night before July 1st around the city

Hope lowkey grew up without really registering gender and doesn’t say hello to new people, but asks for their preferred pronouns

Bart’s the closest person to Buck in the Outsiders, being the only person that knows about his true powers as well as the few that knows his birth name

Goes to Bart or Garfield when he has a nightmare at the headquarters

Bruce payed for Buck’s top surgery after S2

Keith is the only straight person in the Shadows

Lily is pan and loves her frogs

Lily really likes frogs and has a small tank for them in her apartment

Hope has one frog gifted to her from her favorite aunt

Cody is the only person allowed to cook in the Manor

Cuddle piles when the enter family is together at their secret hideout

Cody is the only one that owns an actual house and they use the basement as their “hideout”

Lots of “Are the Straights Okay?” moments when the group is people watching during stakeouts

Grace being a flirt to everyone

Hope knowing every curse word at age 9 because her sister can’t shut up

Lots of scolding because of profanity

Faith smacking people upside the head

Cody is Buck’s go to when he’s feeling dysphoria when he’s with the fam

Family nights every friday cause none of them got the most normal lives (Faith lost her parents young as did Cody, Grace wasn’t accepted by her family and lost her parents before even turning 20, Hope only had her parents for 8 years, Lily never had a father and her mother is a thief, Buck lost his mother young and left his father before age 13, and Keith lived mostly alone with a constantly working father. Plus they’re all heroes so I mean none of them are remotely normal)

Cody entered the Shadefam after S3 and doesn’t know that he was previously working with Jason for a period of time

Very confused brother reunion when Cody and Jason meet again

The pair of them both worked for Ra’s a Ghul at the same time in the S3

Lily gives Buck a frog plush that he holds after nightmares at the headquarters

Faith does daily calls to her children

Faith was raised by Bruce, how could she not take in a small child that looks like a mini her

Faith being a mom to everyone, even her brother at times

Faith: “Cody… why are you not wearing any socks?”

Cody: “Why would I be wearing socks?”

Faith: “Because the floor is freezing! Now go put on some damn socks so you don’t get a cold!”

Cody: “But-”

Faith: “Do not try me Cody North Miers.”

Cody: “Damn… the middle name.”

Cody trying to keep Lily and Grace from getting killed on the field

Faith trying to keep Lily and Grace from getting killed off the field

Faith moves in with Keith after her amputation because he has a first floor apartment and she can’t do stairs yet

Keith finds out about MJ and Faith finds out about Hunter after he sneaks back in from a patrol before the accident

Grace and Lily are chaotic a hell, pushing themselves as far as they can during training and mission

They are the two that get hurt the most often

Though Faith always has the worst injuries cause she’s a mama bear that will leap in front of her children

Cody will get pretty severe ones as well when he jumps in front of Faith

Cody: “Why the fuck do you keep jumping in front of them?!”

Faith: “I am mama bear bitch!”

Cody: “Well stop being mama bear cause you’re going to get yourself killed one day.”

Faith: “I can’t die bitch!”

Cody and Faith being responsible adults and the most mature of the group, to being bickering siblings at each other's throats

It always ends up shocking the rest of the fam as well as the Team and the Batfam

Cody: “Can you grab me a pop?”

Faith: “The hell is a pop?”

Cody: “You know a Coke or Sprite.”

Faith: “You mean a soda?”

Cody: “Yeah a pop.”

Faith: “It’s soda!”

Cody: “Pop!”

Faith: “SODA!”

Cody: “POP!”

Halo: “Are they fighting over what to call a drink?”

Buck: “Yeah…”

The Shadefam is sort of a faction of the Batfam

Buck ships Bartuardo and got Hope to agree with him after she jumped ship from Bluepulse

Bruce is lowkey protective of Buck (he loves his grandson)

Buck is Alfred’s favorite of the Shadefam children

Cody and Faith are his favorites of the adults

Faith insists they eat dinner at the table together before leaving early to go invent

Grace and Faith have coffee addictions

Hope is not allowed near caffeine, neither is Buck

Lily shows up at Grace’s and Faith’s separate apartments randomly

Faith was the shoulder Lily cried in after Jason death

Bruce accidentally introduced Buck as his grandson to a board of people when he stopped by Wayne Enterprise

Bruce: “This is Buck, my grandson. He’ll be sitting in today because his mother is busy.”

The news outlets had a field day trying to figure out which Wayne kid was his parents and the person that they knocked up or got knocked up by. Many settled on Faith getting knocked up by some random guy before realizing the math didn’t work.

One outlet found out that Buck was born female and called him a “she” in their coverage of it.

Bruce lost it.

Bruce: “I read your coverage of my grandson. I would like to kindly ask you to pull that story.”

Reporter: “But Wayne sir.”

Bruce: “You misgendered my grandson. So either print an apology or I will be suing.”

Bruce does not stand for misgendering

Keith and Faith child’s godmothers are Grace and Joana

Hope and Buck are practically their child’s older siblings

Lily is the child’s favorite auntie

Keith leaves after their child’s birth

Keith: “Someone needs to be here in case something happens to you.”

Faith: “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Love.”

Keith: “Can you guarantee that?”

Faith: “...”

Keith: “That’s what I thought.”

Faith: “I’m not leaving.”

Keith: “I know. And I don’t blame you. You were built for the hero’s life. I wasn’t.”

Faith: “I swear I’ll be careful. For you and for them.”

Both Hope and Buck move to the Outsiders and later Buck leads the Team, leaving the Shadows.

Faith: “The Team? Buck that’s great!”

Buck: “I thought you’d be a bit more… I don’t know feeling the mode about this.”

Faith: “Why? Cause my little hodgepodge of a team is losing a member?”

Buck: “Well yeah.”

Faith: “Buck. The Shadows were just a covert team for the East. Plus it’s not like I’m really losing you. You are my son after all.”

Buck: “I know. And I’ll never forget that… Mom.”

Lily moved in with Jason and the two of them focused more on Gotham, Lily becoming a true Bat.

Lily: “So I guess I’m a Bat now.”

Faith: “Yup.”

Lily: “No longer a Shade.”

Faith: “The Shades were created by a Bat and consisted of like four current Bat members. The Shades are like a stepping stone.”

Lily: “I guess. I’m still gonna miss family nights.”

Faith: “The Shadows might be decreasing in numbers, but that doesn’t mean we’re ending Shade family nights. Bring along Jason, I’m sure he’ll have a ton of fun.”

Lily: “Yeah surrounded by youngins! He’ll be ecstatic!”

Faith: “Well he does need to prepare.”

Lily: “How the fuck did you know!”

Faith: “Wait, what!”

And that’s how Faith learned Lily was pregnant

Grace leaves the hero world once she and Joana get married and she becomes a criminal prosecutor, sealing the fate of the Shadows

Faith: “So you’re giving it up then?”

Grace: “The hero's life is great and every Faith, but.”

Faith: “I know. It’s a lot.”

Grace: “I mean I never wanted to be a hero, I just wanted to put the bad guys away. That’s what I’m doing now. Plus Joana always frets over me after a mission, even if nothing bad happened.”

Faith: “That’s pretty reasonable. Keith tends to exaggerate the smallest cuts.”

Grace: “So you’re not upset that you’re losing another member?”

Faith: “The Shadows were just a covert team for smaller crimes. I always have my back up with the League.”

Grace: “So the Shadows are done now?”

Faith: “For the time being.”

Cody never left the team, but with only two members it became more of a partnership. They continued to work together, with them assisting the League, Team, and Bats whenever they were needed

Even after the team breaks up, they all gather up once a month and hang out for board games, movies, or a patrol around the city for old times sake.

The older members (Faith, Grace, and Keith) do a lot of reminiscing while the “kids” (Buck, Lily, and Hope) just goan and roll their eyes as Cody listens to the tales of his sister and her friends

Lily and Jason never planned on having any biological children, but they did plan on taking in a street kid. They ended up with one biological child and one street kid

Cody becomes the next Bruce Wayne, training and taking in kids that need a good home

Grace and Joana have three kids, two of which have Grace’s abilities

The entire Shade family is always invited to Bat family reunions. Damian was very confused by the massive amount of people that showed up after Bruce told him he only had a “few” siblings.

Damian: “Eight is not a few Father.”

Bruce: “You have seven siblings Damian. Buck is your nephew.”

Damian: “He’s nearly 16 years older than me.”

Bruce: “Yes but he’s Faith’s son.”

Damian: “Reigns is only seven years younger than Miers.”

Bruce: “He still calls her mom correct?”

Damian: “Yes.”

Bruce: “And he calls me Grandpa?”

Damian: “Yes.”

Bruce: “Then he is your nephew.”

Damian: “But Kyle also calls her mom.”

Bruce: “Your sister does it as a joke to annoy your oldest sister.”

Damian: “Kyle is the only blood sibling I have here. Why must I consider the rest of these people siblings?”

Bruce: “Because they are.”

Damian: “Well… seven is still not a small amount of people.”

Bruce: “With the amount of people here, seven is a few.”

Cody is a light sleeper, waking at the slightest sounds

Grace sleeps like the dead, freezing water and banging pots are the only thing that wake her

Keith can sleep through stuff if he’s in a deep sleep, but also wakes to small shifts in the bed when Faith has a nightmare

Faith is another light sleeper, though not as light as her brother

Lily can and will sleep through anything that doesn’t sound threatening, aka wakes only to gunshots and the scrapping of a blade in its sheath

Buck is a deep sleeper, though often wakes to nightmares

Hope sleeps a lot like her sister, though she’s easier to wake up

When Cody wakes up, he’s up. If he’s woken up, a perimeter check is needed before he goes to sleep. If he wakes up on his own, he still does a perimeter check before going about his day

Grace doesn’t fully wake up until she’s had her eggs and instant caramel coffee

Keith rises with the sun full of energy after seeing Faith sleeping beside him

Faith wakes up tired and a little sluggish, needing black coffee to really wake up in the morning

Lily lives in a permanent state of sluggishness during daylight hours, she draws her power through the moon

Buck is always a bit tired, with usual bursts of random energy

Hope wakes with the sun cause she herself is a ray of sun

Faith & Keith child

Valarie (biological)

Cody’s children

Westly (adopted)

Conner (adopted)

Grace & Joana’ children

Derek (Grace’s biological)

Sophie (Grace’s biological)

Adrian (adopted)

Jason & Lily’s children

Charlie (street kid)

Jaden (biological)

Faith, Hope, and Grace are called the holy trinity as a joke

How Lily and Jason act

PDA constantly, it’s not huge things but it’s very clear that they are together

Nightmare comfort

Got together after Jason came back from the dead, working together as Red Hood and Scarlet Falcon

Were rivals of sorts before his death when Lily was still Misfortune. They fought a lot as Robin and Misfortune, though Faith refuses to let Jason take her in

Lily runs cold so she often wears Jason’s jacket

Faith gave both Lily and Jason the “if you hurt my sibling” lecture. Jason was terrified by it, while Lily shrugged it off

Faith: “You hurt my baby brother, I will hurt you tenfold. I will get a crowbar.”

Lily: “Reasonable.”

Faith: “If you hurt my baby sister, I will hurt you tenfold. I will get a crowbar.”

Jason: “Okay ma’am.”

Buck isn’t a meta but cursed

Hope gets killed in 2023 during the first mission that the team gets together after 2020

Shadefam split by 2020, with Keith, Hope, & Buck leaving in 2018, Grace leaving in 2019, and Lily leaving in 2020 with Faith moving from High Hills in 2019

Keith and Faith move after S3 in 2019 to Star City to man the Wayne Enterprise in the West and raise Valerie in a less crime-ridden area

Cody takes over protecting High Hills, taking on two wards

Grace and Joana move to a smaller town outside of New York so Grace couldn’t be dragged back into the Life

Lily lives with Jason in Gotham

Cody was almost taken by the Court of Owls to become a Talon (their mother’s death was a result of the Court) saved by the League of Shadows instead

Valerie

Metahuman with the True Sight ability

Born 2018

Year younger than Damian

Joins the Team as Seer

Connor

Eldest of the Shade children

Born 2014

Joins the family when he's seven

Loves musical theatre

Doesn’t do fieldwork and works as the man behind the screen for his brother and father

Westly

Second eldest of the Shade children

Born 2016

Joins the family when he's six

Works on the field with his father (Bullseye)

Mathlete

Derek & Sophie

Twins

Born 2019

Sophie is a shadow bender (Yin)

Derek is a light bender (Yang)

Both join the Life (much to Joana dismay)

Adrian

Same age as the “twins”

Born 2019

Doesn’t join the Life

Works with their mom (Joana) in the family jeweler shop

Charlie

Equal eldest Shade child (though entered the family far later than Conner)

Born 2014

Joins the family when he's nine

Doesn’t join the Life and studies pre-med to fix up his family

Jaden

(2020)

Joins the Life

When People Call Faith “Mom”

Cody, Grace, Dick, and Jason call her Mom as a joke or when she’s being to much of a mama bear

Grace: “Alright. Alright Mom. We’ll stop.”

Faith: “Don’t call me Mom Grace.”

Dick: “Alright… Mama Bear.”

Faith: “I will kill you Dick.”

Jason: “Oh don’t kill him Mum, he’s a good big brother.”

Faith: “-Jay.”

Cody: “Relax Mother. They’re just playing with you.”

Faith: “CODY!”

Lily does it as a joke most of the time, though often accidentally does it

Lily: “Jeez let up Faith I’m fine.”

Faith: “Fine? Lily, you nearly bled out an hour ago.”

Lily: “Yeah an hour a ago.”

Faith: “Sit the fuck back down you asshole.”

Lily: “Okay.”

Faith: “What were you thinking Lily? You could have been killed. You could have gotten Buck killed.”

Lily: “You quoting Lion King now?”

Faith: “Lily.”

Lily: “Sorry.”

Faith: “What were you planning, Lily? What if we couldn’t have gotten to you in time? What if Buck was in your place? What if we lost you?”

Lily: “I’m- I’m sorry Mom.”

Faith: “I know you- Did you just call me Mom?”

Lily: “Aaaa- no?”

Hope never means to call Faith Mom, but it does just kind of happen

Faith: “Time to get up, Hope. You got school in thirty minutes.”

Hope: “Mmmm.”

Faith: “Come on Hope.”

Hope: “I don’t wanna go Mom.”

Faith: “It’s only for seven hours, Hope.”

Hope: “Mmm. Fine.”

Faith: “Good. Be ready in ten please.”

Hope: “Alright M- Faith. I meant Faith… not Mom.”

Buck calls her Mom the most (besides her own daughter)

Faith: “Have fun sweety.”

Buck: “I will Mom.”

Faith: “You know I’m not old enough to be your mother.”

Buck: “I know Mom. And you know I don’t care.”

faith: “And neither do I in all honesty.”

Tim accidentally called her mom once, which her reflect response was “I’m too young to be your mother”

Faith: “Tim? What are you still doing up?”

Tim: “Working.”

Faith: “For how long?”

Tim: “... I’m on hour… 56?”

Faith: “Go to bed Tim.”

Tim: “But I just need 10 more hours to finish.”

Faith: “Nope. You’re going to bed.”

Tim: “Hey! Put me down!”

Faith: “No. Tim you are a growing boy who needs to sleep.”

Tim: “But I have to-”

Faith: “Sleep! You have to sleep.”

Tim: “Put me down Faith.”

Faith: “Alright.”

Tim: “No I’m not going to bed.”

Faith: “Yes. Yes, you are.”

Tim: “I don’t need you to tuck me in Faith. I’m a grown man.”

Faith: “You’re a seventeen-year-old boy, not a grown man. Now go to bed.”

Tim: “Mmm. Fine. Good night Mom.”

Faith: “I’m too young to be your mother.”

Tim: “...”

Faith: “Good night Timmy.”

Damian also did it by accident once (Jason never let him live it down)

Faith: “I’m fine guys. Just a bit banged up.”

Jason: “Just a bit?”

Dick: “Faith you were held captive for nearly three weeks.”

Tim: “We stayed up endless nights to get you back.”

Lily: “We got to you to find you with a punctured lung and a broken arm.”

Faith: “Yes. But I’m fine now.”

Bruce: “You’re off patrol for the next three weeks and I’ll make sure you get a week off from work.”

Faith: “I don’t need that Bruce. I’ll be fine going back to work and I doubt three weeks probation is needed.”

Damian: “You nearly died Mother!”

Everyone: “Mother?”

Faith: “...”

Tim: “Did you just call Faith Mother?”

Dick: “Well it certainly wasn’t a joke.”

Jason: “I think the demon needs a mommy figure.”

Damian: “Shut up Todd!”

Jason: “Demon misses his mommy!”

Damian: “I said SHUT UP!”

Faith: “Enough! Both of you! Damian get off your brother! Jason stop teasing your brother.”

Damian: “...”

Faith: “Thank you. Now. Damian I’m fine. I’ve been through far worse.”

Lily: “No you haven’t.”

Faith: “You do remember that I got into a car accident where I lost my leg, right?”

Lily: “... Right.”

Faith: “Now I’m going to go watch a movie cause I’ve been stuck in a wooden chair for a few weeks and I have a strange urge to watch Ratatouille.”

And that's it for now. I might make another post about these guys, maybe I won't, depends if people like this.

#Shadefam #my ocs stuff #young justice #young justice outsiders #DC #DC OCs #original characters #superfamily

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acaseforpencils · 5 years

Text

Mary Lawton.

Bio: I was born on Long Island, New York in 1958, and loved drawing and making art since I was pretty young. I remember really loving Rat Fink, the anti-hero of Mickey Mouse, and tracing pictures of him. I even had a plastic Rat Fink ring when I was eight. I am the youngest of a very loud and raucous group of six siblings who always encouraged me to make art. My parents were my biggest fans, they would parade their friends through my bedroom to show them the murals I drew on my walls. I read MAD and National Lampoon with a fervor, and I still remember some of the insanely hilarious cartoons I saw in those magazines, although Alfred E. Newman's face gave me nightmares. After backpacking in Europe for a while after high school, I moved to Boston in 1979, and became friends with a bunch of artists, some of them cartoonists and animators. We were all enamored of Lynda Barry and Matt Groening, who were bursting on to the alternative comics scene at the time. I devoured their comics, and also loved Roz Chast, B Kliban, William Steig, Mary Fleener, Gahan Wilson, and many others. I knew that I wanted to do what they were doing.

Find this print, here!

I was drawing very primitive, autobiographical strips about my childhood at that time. I sent them out to magazines and newspapers and they began to get published. It was a nice time to be an 'alt' cartoonist as there were so many markets and the pay was great. I also loved cooking, so I worked in restaurants during the day to make a living, and drew in my little bedroom/studio at night. After ten years cooking and cartooning, I left Boston in 1989, moved to Manhattan, and worked at Chelsea Animation, an ink-and-paint studio on 23rd Street. Working there with a great group of like-minded artists was like going to a party every day. Non-stop hilarity. We all sat over our light tables wearing white cotton gloves, painting cels of all sorts of commercial animated films. At that time I took a few classes at the School of Visual Arts at night.

Since then, my art has been in many magazines and newspapers, books, greeting cards, museums and galleries, and I've done a gazillion commissions. In the 1980's I sent samples of my cartoons to William Steig for his advice, because I just loved his drawings and books. He became my friend and mentor, and always encouraged me to send to The New Yorker. I did this for nearly thirty years and finally got one accepted in 2017. I have sold several to The New Yorker online, and a few more in their hard copy magazine. Around the same time, I was invited to join Six Chix, a comic strip by six women, a different one each day of the week, syndicated with King Features. It was created in 2000 by Jay Kennedy, the masterful editor at King, who died tragically in 2007. Mine is the Thursday comic, and every six weeks I draw a Sunday. I love being part of this group of women cartoonists!

I have saved all of the rejection slips I got since I started sending out my cartoons in the early 1980's. They are in an album that now weighs 4.5 lbs. It's my reminder to never give up, to just keep returning to my work table. Persistence pays.

Favorite cartoon: I think my favorite cartoon that I have had published in the New Yorker magazine is my very first [editor’s note: the cartoon at the beginning of the interview], because it was so dang thrilling to finally be in that magazine. I happened to be in New York the week it appeared in print. On my way back home to Texas, as my plane flew over Manhattan at night I looked down at those lights below and I felt like I had really made it. It was a dream come true! Also, since it was an airplane cartoon, I shared it with the flight attendants, who all got a good laugh, and they brought me a glass of champagne. Later that year I was part of the Funny Ladies exhibit at the Society of Illustrators in New York. Liza Donnelly was so kind to invite me to be in the show. To be there on opening night and to meet Emma Allen and the cartoonists that I have admired for so long, felt like being at The Academy Awards. Only better.

I really love to draw political cartoons, so I'm also proud of the ones that have made it into The New Yorker Daily Cartoon.

Tools: I drew with Rapidograph pens for many years. I switched to dip pens, which I enjoy depending on the paper. Lumpy or textured paper, ugh. Smooth paper, and it's perfect. I practiced using the dip pen by doing calligraphy for a long time, with lots of different nib sizes and shapes. At the moment I use Pigma Graphic in all sizes, but they are disposable, so I'm on the hunt for a new reusable pen so I don't add to the land fill. I sketch out cartoons in pencil most of the time, then ink in. I love Arches papers, and use them for finishes and gouache paintings. Or Bristol paper. I buy big sheets and cut them up. But every day, I use a lot of printer paper for roughs. The pencils I mostly use are the Faber Castell 9000, in a 3 or 4 B. I also love Ticonderoga pencils, not only for their beautiful name but they feel perfect on Boise all-purpose printer paper. I love paint brushes of all kinds. I use gouache every day. It took me many years to learn about gouache, to finally get how it works. It's complicated because of its soluble nature. I looked at instructional videos on Youtube, and got the hang of it. I use black gouache for my washes, and Titanium White right out of the tube for covering up mistakes, or all sorts of highlights. My old work lamp has a long arm so I can move the light all over my table, which is really handy.

Tools I wish I used better: Sketchbooks! That seems odd, but it's true. My sketchbooks are very messy, and not something I'm proud of, or want to save and look back on. I have seen beautiful sketchbooks which are themselves art pieces, but it's not my style! I mostly want to toss them into the recycle bin once they are full. Also, I wish I could use computer drawing tools.

Tool I wish existed: Can't think of one.

Tricks: I don't look at social media much, and I think that helps my creativity, and certainly gives me more time to do stuff.

Misc: I have three big-time men in my life, my husband and my two sons. Four, if you count my dog Buddy. All bring me a ton of joy. I've lived in Texas for 25 years, and I encourage visitors! We always like to show folks the Texas we know and love.

Website, etc:

Instagram

newyorker.com

sixchixcomics.com

funnytimes.com

narrativemagazine.com

thenib.com

Editor’s Note: If you enjoy this blog, and would like to contribute to labor and maintenance costs, there is a Patreon, and if you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee, there is a Ko-Fi account as well! I do this blog for free, and your support helps a lot! You can also find more posts about art supplies on Case’s Instagram and Twitter! Thank you!

#mary lawton #how to be a cartoonist #mary lawton cartoonist #artists on tumblr #art supplies #drawing process #art process #cartoons #cartooning

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mattlassen · 5 years

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My Ascent into MADness

I’ve seen a lot of eulogies to MAD from contributors and fans alike the past week since the news broke that they wouldn’t be printing new material going forward. Yes, it is a loss for me as a MAD contributor but to be honest, I have been processing this loss and the end of MAD for a little while now. As Tom Richmond said so dead on, this was not something we didn’t see coming.

I wrote some tweets as a tribute to MAD the day after the announcement went public but I feel I owe it more. (I really am a millennial - I thought a tweet or two was enough!) MAD was a big part of my life. It changed my life. It deserves more than Twitter. We all do!

I was a writer and artist (occasionally) for MAD since I interned at the age of 19 but not many people know how I encountered MAD for the first time. I was born with a pencil in my hand as my mom says which makes me question what she was eating and drinking during pregnancy. I was always drawing and dreamed of being a comic strip artist after my dream of being a basketball star went by the waist side when everyone got taller and left me well by their waist side! During high school, my family took a trip to California and being big fans of Peanuts (my mom and I), we visited the Charles Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa. It was an amazing experience. We went around the whole museum while my dad and brother tailed off to let my mom and I experience it more in-depth at our leisure. When I met up with my dad later, he said “I was sitting in on this artist talk and the guy is pretty good. Maybe you’d be interested.” We went in and Tom Richmond was doing a talk about caricatures. They were amazing. Funny, exaggerated and completely dead on. You knew who it was right away! The perfect caricature.

As the talk ended, Tom showed the opening spread artwork he just finished for MAD Magazine for the movie, Spiderman 2. Wow. Caricatures, amazing line, color and backgrounds together. Oh and stupidity! Spiderman’s pants were coming down so his underwear was showing, Doc Ock had big bandages on his tentacles and there was a paper that said “Man bites Dog, Dog sues.” The best was a spider web coming from the middle of Spiderman’s legs which I remember Tom saying, “Yeah, I’m surprised I got away with that one.” I left amazed but also thinking I can’t draw like that. Uh-oh.

The museum announced that they would be doing a caricature workshop with Tom in about five minutes upstairs for free. We all went with a little encouragement from my parents. Tom started by asking for a volunteer that he could do a caricature demonstration of. My parents were very insistent that I do it, but being a teenager at the time (who looked quite younger than his actual age, short and scrawny!), I didn’t want to. I was picked and had to go up in front of everyone for an artist to pick apart my face and draw me. Yay! I was a good sport and a very jokey guy so I can take a joke just like I dished them out. He drew me on chart paper with big muscles and a mom tattoo because hell, my mom was the whole reason he was drawing me! I left the workshop with a caricature in my hand and MAD Magazine in my head. I need to get the magazine that had this Spiderman art in it. Many years later after hanging and talking to Tom on multiple MAD occasions as contributors, I told him this story at a party after a beer or two. He was a bit surprised to say the least.

We went to a mall shortly afterwards and I was searching for the MAD art in the newsstands but it wasn’t out yet. I settled for the latest issue and was amazed by the diverse amazing artwork in the magazine. Since I met Richmond, I was fascinated with his work and it really stood out but there were other guys that were cool too like Mort Drucker, Hermann Mejia, Tom Bunk and John Caldwell (my all-time favorite since he was much goofier looking and simplified with his artwork just like I liked to draw!) Plus, he had this squiggle in his line which was intriguing. How? Why?

I became obsessed with MAD for the art. I didn’t read it as much as I should have early on but I was just obsessed with the artwork as a budding cartoonist. The words were secondary to me. It was an art magazine. I drew everything in high school with chicken fat - gags on top of gags. My MAD subscription and obsession continued when I entered college. I went on the MAD website and saw they had internships in the New York offices for art and editorial. I was in no way a graphic design person. I hated it. Type and layout was boring. I wanted to be a cartoonist! I applied for both art and editorial. I wrote and mocked up my own outtakes from different TV shows such as The Office, Muppets etc. which was a recurring feature in the magazine at the time. It was something fun to do on a rainy Saturday night. I submitted and thought nothing of it. I wasn’t going to get it. Another summer doing art and taking summer classes. Yay.

I checked my email on a slow Monday morning and to my astonishment, there was an email from Amy V. at MAD offering me an editorial internship. I was stunned. I told my family and they were ecstatic for me and soon I was starting my first day as a MAD intern. It was insane. The only magazine, I liked and I was going to work there. I got there and we had a morning staff meeting first thing. The whole staff (which wasn’t big at all!) and the four interns (two editorial and two art). I was nervous but was eased when the staff was grilling us about the magazine and I was the only one answering everything. I remember art leaving after giving their report on the status of their pieces and what they needed etc. John Ficarra, the editor (and best Benjamin Franklin impersonator I’ve ever met) took a piece of paper and wrote down what Michael and I would be doing. I got a big speech from my family about interns and how I shouldn’t expect much, I’m going to get coffee and do meaningless jobs that others didn’t want to do etc. John said “Okay, you’ll be writing fundalini pieces in house such as “The Godfrey Report”, “Celebrity Cause of Death Betting Odds” - give us a list of celebs to approve before you start and Fundalini asks “What If…?” etc.” He also said, we will have brainstorming writing sessions where you will work with us etc. I don’t think I blinked for the two minutes he was talking. Then he said, Dave will show you your office and get you guys set up. We had an office. We had our own desks. We had our own computers, phones. What?! Where was the coffee I needed to get them?

We went right to writing, Michael and I. We came up with a bunch of celebrities etc. and got to know each other. I was always an art person and a little funny in classrooms and parties but never would I think of myself as a writer. We got a bunch of issues from the storage closet and focused in on the material we had to write specifically. I was seeing the magazine in a completely different light. It was incredibly smart and funny. Why wasn’t I reading this cover to cover all the time? We started writing together and putting out stupid jokes to try to make each other laugh. Sometimes successfully and most of the time, not. The soul crushing silence became the most dreaded thing in my life. The joke didn’t land and you just embarrassed yourself. That writing session was broken up by a call to come to the editor’s office because Al Jaffee was there dropping off the new Fold In. What?! This day is getting more surreal. That was cool is an understatement. Eventually, throughout the days at MAD, Michael and I wrote by ourselves and didn’t really collaborate on any pieces mostly because we had different comedy sensibilities and it was easier to write by ourselves. I started writing all day long and printing out my pieces to read and revise on my commute home.

I got to sit in on fold in meetings, department writing sessions, general pitch meetings from writer submissions and what direction they wanted to go with content. I quickly figured out that I wasn’t as quick and funny as everyone else thought I was. These guys have been doing it for decades. Damn were they good! My first department writing meeting, they had an article about Fast Food and they needed a fake department name. I didn’t even get to process what the article was and the editor says “When Grease Meets West?” to which he is interrupted by Charlie singing “All We Are Sayyyyinnnnggg…Is Give Grease a Chance.” I was dumbfounded, out of my element and intimidated. I need to get better and quick.

As the six-week internship went on, I wrote so many pitches and submissions. I wrote three or four pages of Godfrey Reports (maybe nine got in), multiple Celebrity Cause of Death Betting Odds (three or so that got printed), so so many what ifs, that were off the mark. I loved it there! The people were funny, they were welcoming and better yet, they were kind and nurturing. They told you what worked and didn’t work. They didn’t care who had the best idea or the funniest line in the room, they liked that it was the best and funniest! It was comedy boot camp and you wanted to work there forever.

We helped write fundalini pieces, department titles, articles in house, even an article introduction and so much more. I was like a staff member. I would get there early and leave later than I needed to. I met legends and heroes of mine when they would visit the office including Al Jaffee, John Caldwell, Teresa Burns Parkhurst, ironically, Tom Richmond and Hermann Mejiia among others. We got to go through original art for auction (where I found three Don Martins which they had to pry from my hands before I drooled on them), got to admire and examine Mort Drucker original pages that he just fed ex’ed in for a new parody with the staff, see the construction of a cover putting Obama and Alfred together (like 20 or 30 different versions) and the same for the Knockout Obama, Hillary piece both by Mark Frederickson. I felt like a staff member and left being assigned an editor to submit to and now you are a contributing writer, if you want to be. Submit anything you want. Now I’m a writer. They didn’t know who I was six weeks before. I’m just a college kid. I’m a contributor now? That was the best thing about MAD, they didn’t care what else you did for other people, they wondered what could you do for us. Don’t show me work you did for other people, show me a piece you wrote specifically for us. They looked at potential and built up talent to a new level.

I wrote and wrote and there was a lot of near sales but a lot of not quites. I sold to MAD Kids before Christmas. That was a cool Christmas gift. In January, the magazine lays off three staff members and goes quarterly. There’s a famous Stephan Pastis line that I always remember and works best here “I finally get to play for the Lakers and the stadium is collapsing underneath us.” I came back the next summer and interned in the art department. Now, I’m getting to know people I knew but didn’t work with closely at all. Same old MAD but completely different. Instead of being with the editorial guys, I was with the art guys, Ryan, Sam and Doug. All smart, funny and amazing guys themselves. I came right into a deadline for the magazine and was put to Photoshopping different things. I was then tasked with restoring fold ins for a upcoming fold in collection. The previous intern did about ten or so which meant we were a long way away from completion. Over the next six weeks, I restored over 450 or so fold ins for the book, got to have lunch with and meet more artists and writers including Harry North, Jason Chatfield, Shannon Wheeler etc. and go through more original artwork to send back to the artists. Any cartoonists dream. I think Adam Cooke and Michael Slaubaugh visited that summer too! During this time, I wrote a piece on the weekend and submitted it to Dave Croatto, my editor, to which they eventually bought! Now I was actually a contributor to MAD! Not in house pieces but as a writer.

After leaving MAD as an art intern, I looked for other places to intern/write for/work for. I knew MAD wasn’t going to pay the bills! I interviewed at The Onion where they told me I would hate working there after working at MAD because they didn’t care if it was the funniest idea or line in the room, if an intern said it they would ignore it. Nothing was like MAD and would be like it. I became very loyal to MAD. I only wrote for them. I didn’t consider myself a comedian, I was just a writer for MAD and MAD only. I temped after college in the editorial department for a month (literally, the day after my last final ever and took a day off for graduation!) We started the blog, established daily posting and internet presence through the current events that was happening. I started submitting more and selling on a more consistent basis. I valued their opinions and their direction. Nothing made me happier than seeing a MAD guy on the floor of a convention or visiting the office once or twice a year. They changed my career and the way I looked at things by just giving a 19-year-old kid a chance and some criticism and encouragement. They let me submit cartoons and I started to sell those too!

I continued to write for the magazine and even got a page in their new book, Inside MAD, to write about MAD as a contributor. I did other freelance art jobs and eventually went back to graduate school to become an art teacher. Even throughout the four years I’ve been teaching, I continued to contribute and write consistently for the magazine. There are too many stories and memories to recount. (Believe me, this could be much longer!) When MAD announced they were moving to California, I went into mourning. My buddies were leaving. There were talks for years about this happening and they resisted as much as they could. I didn’t know what was going to be next for them and the magazine. I wanted to continue writing because it was my outlet and a nice hobby for me to destress from life and my full time gig of teaching cartooning. It wasn’t a job for me, it was fun!

The new year came and it meant starting over with a new staff. It was hard. I tried but my heart wasn’t in it as much as when the New York staff was there. I wrote pieces and sold pieces (many that didn’t get printed because of the shortened run) but contributed none the less. As my job got more intense, I wrote less and less and without the same relationship, I had in the past my motivation folded a little bit before MAD did. My mourning period has lasted for a year and a half so the end of MAD wasn’t such a surprise or as much of a loss as it would have been otherwise for me. It still is a loss, don’t get me wrong but less so. This isn’t any slight to the West Coast MAD staff at all. It was me, not them. MAD became a fun hobby for me. Not my sole income and my way of life. I did it because I had the ideas and I enjoyed the people and the work. Plenty of people make fun of politicians, celebrities and the stupidity of the life but I occasionally got paid for it.

I’ve been asked if I will try to get into other publications. I don’t know. Maybe. You might just see more MAD like pieces in my own webcomics and cartoons. The influence will be there forever and I hope people can clearly see that through the bad puns, the political stupidity and the irony.

MAD is the cartooning and comedy bible. I loved the art as a cartoonist and grew to love the writing and minds behind everything as a contributing writer. My art and views are completely changed by my experiences working and being a MAD idiot. Everything I do is so idea based now because of MAD and being a MAD writer. They weren’t afraid of new blood or printing work from an unknown artist or writer. They gave chances and crafted things that were truly unique. I thank them for changing my life and letting me be a part of theirs and their legacy for the past decade. All of the amazing people and contributors I have met because of it is amazing. I will miss the occasions we would meet, share a joke or even lament about things. My life would be something very different if I didn’t go to a museum in Santa Rosa, if I didn’t submit an internship application and if I didn’t pick up a MAD Magazine on vacation. I would be called an idiot in different, not so surprising and endearing contexts and I wouldn’t have an Alfred sized hole in me today. I’m proud to sound off like I have to other MAD NY staffers and contributors in our coded communications.

Forever MAD

#mad magazine #matt lassen #stay mad #forever mad #satire

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unavenged-robin · 7 years

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Family portraits

Batfamweek 2017, day #1: family.

Read on AO3

It starts with a casual comment, one that shouldn’t bother him so much. And it doesn’t. Not right away.

“You don’t have any photo on your desk”, the new girl says. She started working at WE two weeks ago and Tim thinks her name is Kathy, or July, or something like that. He’ll pick it up eventually. Now he just blinks up at her from behind the pile of reports he’s working on.

“Sorry?”

She bits her bottom lip, now looking embarrassed at her own straightforwardness, and vaguely gestures at his desk again.

“No photos”, she repeats. “People usually have photos on their desk. Family. Girlfriends or boyfriends. You know?”

Family, girlfriends, boyfriends. Yes, Tim knows.

“Well”, he smiles politely. “I’m just trying not to look like I’m fifty and live only for my work, to the point to spend all my time in my office and need photographic reminders of what my family looks like.”

Kathy or July or something like that frowns at him.

“Beside, my family is really ugly”, Tim continues, going for less subtle sarcasm, but the joke doesn’t really comes out his mouth as a joke, and KathyJulySomethingLikeThat looks more confused than before.

“Mister Wayne Senior is not ugly”, she argues.

Tim doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or scoff at that.

“No, Bruce is not ugly, I suppose.”

“And he has a lot of framed photos on his desk”, KathyJulySomethingLikeThat points out.

“That he does”, Tim agrees weakly and there must be something in his voice, an undertone of, what?, bitter irony or hidden resentment, something Tim’s too tired to keep in check and away from other to see, and the result is that they look uncomfortably at each other for a moment and then the girl blushes.

“My apologies, Mister Wayne”, she says. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Tim. And don’t- it’s okay, really”, Tim sighs. “You do have a point, Kathy.”

“My name’s Ju-”

“July, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Jude”, the girls finishes.

“Right. Jude. Uh”, Tim feels like he’s blushing too, now. “Great talk, Jude. I hope you like working here.”

“I’d say so”, Jude agrees, settling a box full of documents against her hip to open the door of Tim’s office. “I’ve been working here for two years now.”

Tim doesn’t know how to answer to that so he just buries his face behind a ledger and wishes to never meet her again.

He forgets about the awkward conversation for a couple of days, until he comes back to his office and cleans out the last pile of documents waiting for his signature.

That’s when he finds out that they now bothers him, the empty corners of his desk.

He stares at it in its entirety: files folder and memo holders, laptop and mouse pad perfectly aligned, dozens of different pens stashed in their pen pots depending on their color, the gold plate with his name engraved in it in elegant cursive and… well, nothing else without the skyscrapers of pending work.

Tim’s never had a desk so organized before in his entire life. He supposes that it marries well with his professional image, and yet it still bothers him to no end.

Also, he used to love photography. Having pictures all around like little windows on the past, familiar faces keeping him company during long nights and exhausting days. When did he lost that? When did he start to have empty corners and empty walls?

Probably when you started losing people to fill them with, he answers to himself, then shakes his head.

He asks for all the review files of their new acquisitions to be brought into his office. It’s basically half of the current year archive, enough stuff to keep an entire department busy for a month. He dismisses his secretary’s frown at the dozens of boxes now decorating his office with a tired smile.

The next week he’s already breaking even with the work, so he brings a photo of Stephanie for a test drive.

She’s not doing anything particular in it, just fixing her hair with one hand, barely smiling, looking like she’s a million light years away, but it’s still one of Tim’s favorite. And it’s nice to have it there. Really nice.

He keeps it.

He tries adding a photo of his parents on their wedding day. Has to take it off right away and hide it in the bottom drawer. It still hurts too much.

With Kon he doesn’t even bother to try. He has dozens of photos of him and he never even looks at them, only smiles at their memory. No way he could bear to have that painful reminder framed and displayed on his desk like that.

Beside, most of them are not appropriate to be shown in a professional environment anyway.

Stephanie sends him a photo of her and Cass wearing ridiculous crazy hats and laughing like mad women, and Tim smiles, prints it and adds it to his desk without thinking too much about it.

Now he has two photos of his girlfriend and one of his sister, and it feels right. Normal-right. Enough not to make him look like a sociopath to his coworkers, at least.

A few days later he tries again with a second set of parents. He says to himself that it’s out of obligation and not much else. Bruce and Alfred stare at him with a serious but not unkind look, and a younger version of himself smiles at Tim from his spot in the middle of them. It’s what it used to look like, long, long time ago, when Dick was often too busy for them and Jason and Damian were both still hidden threats.

He brushes the glass with his fingertips, ready to put that one away too, but in the end he doesn’t. This hurts too, but it’s a different kind of hurt, one he can bear to look at. One that he learned to live with.

He debates with himself about his brothers. They’re visibly missing now, but Tim has mixed feelings about it, to use an euphemism.

Also, he discovers straightaway that he doesn’t have any photo of them. The gallery of his phone is full of memes and snapchat’s photo from his friends, Stephanie and Cass, but not much else. So, even if he’s still dubious about it, he does the only sensible thing he can think about: he hacks Dick’s phone.

And Dick doesn’t fail him, for once. There are so many half-naked selfies of him that Tim could assemble three or four numbers of a new porn magazine out of them. Which sounds like a great revenge plan, if he’d ever need one. Dick better not piss him off too badly.

But looking at the photos, Tim finds himself smiling for a reason that totally has something to do with how much he used to love this man, his first and only brother for so many years. Not that Tim doesn’t love him still, but he just doesn’t remember how it feels like, to look at Dick and feel only amazement and affection, instead of the bittersweet mix of anger and nostalgia he feels now.

Lots of Dick’s selfies include Damian too. Obviously. And the brat always looks annoyed or exasperated in them, but Tim knows better. He can see the little twitches at the corners of Damian’s mouth, the soft arch of his eyebrows like he’s really trying for a scowl but can’t feel it, no matter how hard he tries. It’s... cute. It’s also weird as hell to see, because surely enough Tim’s never had one of those soft expressions ever thrown his way. That’s why, in the end, he decides to add one of those photos to his ever-growing collection: it’s not too bad to remind himself that Damian’s changed too.

Another reason, Tim acknowledges while fixing the last framed picture closer to the Bruce and Alfred’s one, is that it’s difficult for him to think of one without the other. And strangely, that doesn’t hurt as much as it used too.

Adding Jason is now a question of integrity.

Dick’s photos of him are all meant to be blackmail material, so Tim has no use for them. And the photo Tim himself has of Jason date back to a time none of them like to remember, even if for different reasons.

And it’s still stupid, but it’s also a project, now. One that Tim’s liking because he’s doing it for himself, even if it didn’t start that way. So one night after patrol, when they’re hanging out in their civvies in Jason’s apartment, drinking beers and playing video games, Tim just takes his phone out of his pocket and gestures for Jason to get closer.

“What?”, his brother asks, tilting his head to get a look at what Tim’s doing, and when he sees him open the camera app, flip it and hold the phone as far away for them he gives Tim an incredulous look.

“Are you serious now?”, he asks again.

Tim only shrugs.

“It’s what cool kids do nowadays, didn’t you know?”

“Tim, you’re not a cool kid.”

“Neither are you, Jason.”

“Excuse you, you are the one begging to do a selfie with me”, Jason taunts him, but his grin is more full of fondness than mockery.

“I’m not begging”, Tim retorts. Just shut up and try not to look too emo.”

He pays the photo with a cuff on the back of his head and twenty more minutes of teasing. Overall is not too high of a price.

“You’re running out of space here”, a known voice says, and Tim looks up in time to spot the smile on the new girl’s face. Jude, he remembers to himself. And she’s not new.

“My family takes up a lot of space”, he agrees, shifting his gaze from her to the collection of framed photos in front of him. There are at least ten now, standing on his desk. Barbara, Duke, Harper, Titus… they are all there now. Turns out that once you start, it’s difficult to stop. The walls are getting crowded too.

Most of the new photos Tim took by himself, and nobody protested his renewed interest in photography. Well, he had to pay Damian in photos of his pets in order to make him not smash his camera, but even that wasn’t so bad in the end (and Damian’s pet are better behaved than Damian himself anyway, so win-win).

“Can I?”, Jude asks and Tim nods at her with half a smile. The girl steps around the desk to get a better look, and she’s silent for a few minutes, examining the pictures one by one.

“I have to say that they’re not ugly at all”, she comments eventually. “You actually look like a family of super models.”

“That’s what we do at night”, Tim agrees solemnly, finding it very difficult to suppress a laugh. “Just don’t go tell it to anyone, okay?”

#batfamweek #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #jason todd #richard grayson #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batfam #my fic #shari writes

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 7 years

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Gossip Girl?

Batfam Week Day 6 is Paparazzi! And I’ve come to the realization that I like writing about pictures? It’s ok, please enjoy all the dirt Babs has on the Bats. Can also be found here on my ao3. Rating: PG Words: 1,558 Gen

The almighty, all-knowing Oracle knew that “information broker” and “well-informed gossip” were synonyms. Sure, information brokers had data on things like bank accounts and security blueprints but otherwise it was much the same. She knew all the dirt on any given League member or villain. You wanted to know where George Clooney was going on vacation this year? It was to Monaco with his wife, they were staying at a friend’s house there. The last time the Queen of England had eaten a burger? Two Thursdays ago for lunch, it was medium rare with ketchup, onions, and a pickle on the side.

As any good gossip did she kept tabs on her friends. Dinah often just gave Babs her stories freely, over coffee and cake, as the two friends had a long history of talking about their lives. Regardless, she had a file filled with reviews of the band Black Canary, tabloids about Dinah and Oliver’s relationship, and business articles about Sherwood Florist and the boxing gym she ran with Ted Grant.

Her files on her fellow bats? Now that’s were things got really interesting. Being Bruce’s unofficial PR department Babs was tasked with keeping the public from realizing that the Waynes and friends were secretly Gotham’s vigilantes. Not an easy job. Especially when they all kept on insisting on doing ridiculous stuff in front of cameras.

The file on Jason was smaller than the rest. Mainly consisting of articles about his adoption and paparazzi pictures from when he was younger. Though since his return and a slight mend in his relationship with the family he had been returned to the public eye under the rouse of being Cass’s personal bodyguard. Not that she needed one, just that they got along the best and Cass was more than happy to get Jason to help her make trouble with Steph, Harper, and sometimes Tim at events. It gave Babs a migraine just thinking about it.

The newer stuff on Jay mainly consisted of him flipping off the camera, a charming trait he’d passed along to Stephanie. There were quite a few from galas that showcased his left hook being used on a CEO who had tried to grab Cass. Those Babs smiled at whenever she came across them. A few were of him dancing with his sister or helping make mischief. Being caught spilling drinks or slipping food into pockets. A particularly amusing photo consisted of him and Steph sipping champagne and failing to look innocent. She sometime used this as one of her screens wallpaper because it always made her giggle.

The other smaller files all belonged to the bats who weren’t also Waynes. Steph, Luke, Harper, and Duke all broke just about even thanks to their own antics and known friendship with the Waynes. Much of Luke’s was on his company and family. A few were candid ones of him working out in the park or at a gym. Her personal favorite was when a paparazzi caught him at some gala eating a piece of cake and accidentally smearing icing on his nose.

Comparatively Duke and Harper’s consisted mainly of gala photos and other Wayne Foundation events. Duke also had articles on Bruce taking him in while Harper had conspiracies on “Which Wayne was she dating?” They also had a handful of pictures taken from when they were hanging out in Gotham with some of the other kids. Including one that was of them, Steph, Cass, Tim, and Jason all flipping off the photographer.

Stephanie’s file was certainly the most colorful thanks in part to her longer time as a vigilante. There were articles on her father and Spolier’s attempts to stop him. Many a tabloid on her relationship or lack there of with Tim. An amusing blog post speculating if she was actually Bruce’s illegitimate child since she always seemed to be with them. Steph herself was rather proud of that one. Babs’s headaches came from the plethora of pictures that accompanied all of them.

There were all the ones of her flipping the bird, a sweet smile on her face as her middle finger rested against the tip of her nose. Steph at the mall with Cass and Harper. Steph at an ice cream parlor with Tim and Cass. Steph with her arms linked between Jason and Dick, the older boys not trying to kill each other as she tugged them towards a movie theater, with the other kids in the background. Steph and Damian at the park, the animal shelter, the book store, the craft store, some coffee shop. Steph and Cass causing trouble in formal wear at a gala. Steph stealing drinks from an unsuspecting waiter at a gala. Steph with a shocked expression as she “accidentally” trips Brucie at a gala. The list was endless.

Babs swore that the youngest Batgirl sought the paparazzi out just for the sake of causing rumors. She was nearly as bad as Dick when it came to telling purposefully ridiculous stories about the family. His file was the second largest after Bruce’s, filled with roughly two decades worth of attention from the media. Everything from reviews of Haly’s Circus and talk of the Flying Graysons to his adoption by Bruce Wayne to his enrollment and eventual graduation from the Bludhaven Police Academy were contained within it.

A favorite stunt of his was to use parkour and his acrobatics to avoid the cameras, meaning that they just got shots of him doing ridiculous things in gravity defying places. Babs had given him way too many lectures for him to still be doing it and yet, the file was full of them. There was also the ones of him at the galas, some with a beautiful girl as his date and in many that was Babs herself. There were tons of him with Tim or Damian at the arcade or videogame store. Those always made her happy, Dick really was a good brother.

For being so young, Damian’s file was rather large. There was all the press that surrounded his appearance. Some genuine articles, including a few by Clark and Lois who had been asked to help, some just insane gossip and conspiracy. The pictures on the other hand were a mix bag of outings with his siblings and Alfred, walks with Titus, him and Bruce at galas, and the ones that made Barbara’s life difficult. The threatening glares at socialites, the pranks with Steph at events, a near fist fight with Jason. The one she had to delete any trace of was when he was waving a steak knife at Tim and Dick had to hold the two boys apart.

Tim’s file always made her sigh. Half the time he was trying to do his own image damage control and it just messed her up. There was all sorts of things on the Drake family and Tim and then Tim getting adopted and the mess that was him taking over WE and Tam being his “fiancée” or whatever. She still didn’t fully grasp how Tim managed that situation. His pictures were calmer but their locations not just Gotham. There were loads of him and Steph and him and Cass. Quite of few of him and Dick too. In all he looked exhausted but happy. There were literal tons of him going and coming at WE, always in a suit with coffee in hand. The more exotic ones were of his globetrotting for the company and cases. These held Tam, now known officially has his assistant, and Pru, her official position that of bodyguard. Sometimes they featured Cassie, Bart, and Kon who would visit him and the four would have mini vacations together. In all, pretty tame and Babs didn’t bother until Tim got himself in another mess regarding WE.

Cass’s file was probably the most entertaining. She was wrapped in mystery whenever the press talked about her, due to her not speaking for many years and her penchant to give reporters the slip. Whenever photographers did catch her she always saw them and would pose. There were hundreds of ridiculous Cass faces at all sorts of events. The one she and Babs both decided was the best was one of her dancing with Bruce at some gala, she had spotted the camera and given it a toothy grin and a little wave from behind Bruce’s back. Babs had sent this to Bruce and knew he had printed two copes and framed them. One sat in the study at the manor and the other on his desk at WE. Cass knew and loved that too.

Bruce’s file was the biggest one that Babs managed. If you could call it managing. At this point Bruce was so good at turning Brucie on and off all she had to do was put the latest photos in. Some though were just downright embarrassing. Him dropping ice cream on himself as the boys argued, an outfit that looked like it had been chosen in the dark, and about a thousand others. Some days she picked the best and sent it out in a mass text to everyone. Bruce didn’t like her on those days but the rest of the family certainly did.

It was nice being Oracle. She never lacked for good stories and she especially never lacked for good blackmail material.

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