#dani: all

[mir-iamwilde]

Private.

Look...I'm sorry if it seemed like I was kind of avoiding you during lockdown. It's just that...I was kind of avoiding you. @daniflorespsu

[aviofruin]

who: @diamondfeng where: mayor's office

If there's one tiny bit of parental guidance Avi has ever listened to, it's to show up somewhere empty handed. Especially when asking something of someone. It's just bad manners and terrible form.

So on the way to the mayor's office, he stops by one of his favorites, shawarma. Typically he would have a stack of paperwork to deliver (he doesn't read anything himself, but he assumes all property and development related) but this time all he's got is a grease-stained paper bag, fragrant with an ungodly amount of garlic, and a bunch of questions likely born from his tendency of jumping to conclusions.

Avi doesn't usually knock, but this time he does. He isn't here just to mindlessly flirt this time. Still, he is who he is, so he doesn't wait for a response and he doesn't temper the 'surprise, it's me again' shit-eating grin.

"I know I said I'd lasso the stars and deliver them to you — " Did he use that line on her? He can't remember. Not important. "But that was proving to be a bit difficult. So I brought the only thing I can think of that can compare." He gestures to the bag, "Think our dear mayor can spare you for 10? Possibly 20. It's been a while and I've missed that look on your face."

[daniflorespsu]

dani flores on instagram

[corimmy]

TEXT 📲 DANI + IMMY

IMMY: You better be fine. I swear, Dani. If Malea and I don't get a cuddle session immediately after this I'm ...Well no, we are getting one. End of discussion. [UNDELIVERED] @daniflorespsu

[staceyevanspsu]

📱stacey & dani

STACEY: i am so bored STACEY: like i am really considering counting the coffee beans individually and adding them to the stock count STACEY: where are you? can you save me? @daniflorespsu

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

Why didn't you inherit my rage?

[blainetm]

yes please! tina actually said the same thing, so maybe the three of us can get together and make those ube iced lattes and one of angelo's recepies? i've been wanting to try those too! i've had matcha before and it didn't really taste like grass to me. more like... bitter and slightly nutty? it's a bit of an aquired taste, i think, but let's try it out! maybe we could start with a strawberry matcha one, to balance out the bitterness?

seems to me like we're gonna have to learn how to make ube iced lattes—and ours will be way better than the lame coffee shop ones. i keep wanting to try the matcha concoctions angelo on tiktok makes, but i'm scared matcha will actually taste like grass like everyone says... coffee making date this weekend??

[dogmotels]

pet owners am I right

[tooquirkytolose]

Actually I love the two throuples in Sense8 because one is Kala in love with her husband Rajan but also kinda cheating on him emotionally (and then sexually) with her boyfriend Wolfgang that she's mentally linked with and then when Rajan finally meets his wife's boyfriend his reaction is

And then Lito,Hernando and Dani doing this

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[mir-iamwilde]

TEXT 📲 DANI

MIDGE: I'm sorry I couldn't be more brave for you. [undelivered] MIDGE: I'm trying to be brave now. I wish you were here to make it easier though. [undelivered] @daniflorespsu

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake: Parent by Circumstance, Dad by Choice

Tim had met Dani and Dan months into dating Danny, when they were already deep enough in their relationship that meeting Danny’s… kids (wards? clones? complicated existential crises?) felt like a natural progression.

They were, for all intents and purposes, Danny’s, no matter how strange their origins were.

And Tim?

Tim adored them.

Dani had taken to him immediately. She was smart, resourceful, and had the kind of cunning that made Tim terrified for when she grew up. She was all wild energy and big grins, full of trouble and ready to recruit Tim into it. Which, well—he was a Bat. He might not have the same mischief-making instincts as her, but he knew how to scheme.

Danny had sighed the first time he caught them conspiring, giving Tim a deeply exasperated look as Dani snickered behind his back.

“You’re supposed to be the responsible one,” Danny grumbled, arms crossed.

Tim had only blinked at him. “Why would you assume that?”

Dan, on the other hand, was rougher, quieter. More hesitant in a way that made something in Tim’s chest ache. He was wary at first, slow to warm up to Tim in a way Dani wasn’t—but Tim understood. Dan had sharp edges, but Tim had spent enough time around Jason to know that just meant he needed patience.

Which was fine, because Tim had plenty of it.

Besides, it helped that they liked him. Dani loved that he didn’t snitch when she roped him into pulling pranks on Danny, giggling wildly when they switched out the sugar for salt and watched Danny spit out his morning coffee with distaste.

So he didn’t push. He let Dan take his time, let him get used to having Tim around. The turning point had been, funnily enough, when Dan asked Tim to teach him how to fight.

Danny had sighed about that, too, shooting Tim a pointed look that was probably supposed to convey Do not encourage him.

Tim had ignored it.

Because what was he supposed to do? Say no?

He wanted Dan to know how to fight. To know how to protect himself properly. It wasn’t like he was teaching the kid how to snap someone’s neck—he was teaching him good habits. Controlled movements. Defense. Dan needed that, and Tim was happy to provide it.

Danny could roll his eyes all he wanted, but he wasn’t stopping Tim.

Dan, predictably, thought Tim was the best after that—well, second best. Jason had somehow stolen first place. Tim wasn’t even mad about it. Dan would sit next to Jason with wide, fascinated eyes, soaking up his stories and nodding along to every dramatic retelling of a fight. (“And then I threw the guy through the car door—” “Did he live?” “Unfortunately.”)

Tim was fine with being second place. Really.

—

Tim had almost been caught with the ring twice.

The first time, Dani had nearly found it when she tackled him over the couch, scrambling over him with zero regard for personal space. If he hadn’t been fast in twisting out of her grip, the box would’ve gone flying across the room.

The second time, Dan had almost seen it when Tim went digging through his duffel. The box had nearly slipped into view when he yanked out a hoodie, and Tim had barely managed to shove it under his gear before Dan could get a good look.

But the third time?

Dani found it.

Because of course she did.

Tim had been distracted—exhausted from patrol, too caught up in the warmth of Danny’s hands pulling him in by the waist. He’d tossed his jacket onto the couch, thinking nothing of it.

Dani had been snooping.

He didn’t even realize until later. She didn’t say anything. She just gave him a look—one that was far too knowing for someone her age—but she didn’t mention it. She just tucked the ring back where she found it and let the subject drop.

For now.

But later, when the house was quiet and everyone else had gone to bed, she sat beside him on the couch, feet tucked under her, eyes flickering to him with something unreadable.

Then, in a casual voice, she asked, “Hey… can I call you Dad?”

Tim froze.

His breath caught, and something in his chest lurched.

He turned to her, eyes wide, trying to process what she just said—what she just asked—but before he could even begin to figure out how to respond, Dan, from where he was leaning against the arm of the couch, just shrugged.

“Yeah,” he muttered, gaze a little too pointedly not on Tim. “You’ve earned it, I guess.”

And Tim—Tim had to swallow past the sudden tightness in his throat, had to blink fast against the prickling behind his eyes. He cleared his throat, voice rough as he said, “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dani grinned, throwing herself at him without hesitation. Tim huffed as he caught her, laughing as she clung to him like she was sure he wouldn’t let go.

Dan rolled his eyes. But his lips curled up, just slightly.

Tim had never been happier.

[daniflorespsu]

How many times have you been in love?

Never. Good talk.

[kriphantom]

Silly little thing :D

[poritora]

Book Daenerys my beloved

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #6

“I’m a twin”, Damian said one night. He could feel the narrowed eyes of his family drilling holes on his back in disbelief. Not that he could blame them. Damian had never so much as implied being raised with a companion, much less a sibling.

“I had a brother”. Damian paused to recollect himself. He had not said his brother’s name out loud in over 8 years.

“His name was… Danyal”. Damian hated the way his voice wavered, but he could not help it. Danyal was everything to him, his other half. Their heart beat as one and when one heart stopped beating, the other one died with it. At least until his family put his heart on metaphorical life support without ever realizing.

“Where is he now?” His father asked, voice filled with knowing grief and a hint of betrayal. It had in fact been 6 years since Damian first showed up on his doorstep.

“Up there”. All eyes shifted towards the specific star he was pointing to. “Right before he died, he promised me he’d guide me from the stars. Unfortunately, the stars are not visible in Gotham, so my brother is unable to be of much help unless I leave the city.”

“Your brother is Polaris, the North Star?” Tim questioned warily, most likely in attempts to not offend him. Damian was aware of how stupid it sounded, but Danyal had promised, and his brother never broke his promises.

“Yes. Danyal is with the stars now, just as he always wanted”