#dc universe

[spicy-apple-pie]

Remember when I talked about Damian's crusty foster fail cat? I drew her :3

Commission Info / Kofi (members get comics a week early)

[prlssprfctn]

Jason Todd should have dropped the UTRH plan and go pursue the acting career, instead. Confronting Batman? Easy and ineffective. Having your face plastered across the whole city, and intentionally picking up roles in remakes of your father's favourite movies? That is scary. That is haunting.

[luca-is-a-pengu]

[postsofcomics]

by Mike Maihack

[lovesick-joey]

the people wanted more youtube worldbuilding ^^

one | three

[iydiamartinx]

BRIEF ENCOUNTERS

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 1.3k synopsis: Gotham’s three hottest celebrities are thrown into a charity photoshoot they didn’t ask for, in nothing but their underwear—and it turns out the camera isn’t the only thing ready to snap. a/n: I had so much fun writing this, I might make a Bruce version. warnings: the boys being too hot to handle.

Gotham’s latest charity campaign was ridiculous. You weren’t sure what was worse: the bright lights heating your skin, the silk robe barely clinging to your body, or the fact that they were here.

Jason Todd and Dick Grayson.

Tied for Gotham’s hottest male celebrity, as if the universe hadn’t already cursed you enough. And you? Crowned Gotham’s hottest woman in People’s Choice. You should’ve felt flattered.

Instead, you were sandwiched into a publicity stunt from hell.

“Who even votes for these things?” you muttered, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared at the photoshoot set—minimalist bed, white sheets, a soft faux sunrise glow cast by a massive lighting rig.

Jason leaned against a metal rack, arms folded, a towel slung low on his hips like this was just another Tuesday. “Gotham’s elite, the bored, the horny. Take your pick.”

“And here I thought we were being celebrated for our philanthropic work,” Dick chimed in smoothly as he walked past, already shirtless and smug, adjusting the waistband of his black boxer briefs with all the subtlety of a peacock in mating season. “But no, please. Tell us again how this is beneath you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “It is beneath me. I’m the CEO of my own company. I’ve lectured at Oxford. I don’t pose in my underwear for strangers with cameras.”

“Yet here you are,” Jason said, flashing a grin as he pulled off his towel, revealing briefs identical to Dick’s—only in red. “Guess we all make sacrifices.”

Your eyes narrowed, though truth be told, you were trying real hard not to let your gaze wander. To either of them. They had the bodies of Greek gods, and the worst part? They knew it. Worse still? You knew it too.

And they knew that you knew.

Jason caught the flick of your gaze and raised a brow. “See something you like?”

You scoffed. “Just calculating how many spray tans died to make that happen.”

“Natural glow, sweetheart.”

“Artificial charm,” you shot back, You turned your back to them, jaw set. Professionalism. Focus. Indifference. All things you were pretending to have.

Except when Dick adjusted his waistband again and Jason’s arm flexed just a little too deliberately—you nearly bit your tongue off trying not to react.

“I give it ten minutes before someone threatens violence,” Dick added, smirking between the two of you.

“Too late,” you muttered, striding toward the set. “I’ve been threatening violence since I saw your names on the call sheet.”

As you walked toward the set, you dropped your robe with a practiced sort of defiance. Your black lingerie was sleek, minimal, and handpicked by someone who clearly wanted Gotham to combust. Both men went quiet. You smirked. 

“What? Cat got your—oh wait, no. Just your remaining brain cells.”

Jason let out a low whistle, his gaze raking over you with absolutely no shame. “Your stylist really went for the full femme fatale fantasy, huh?”

“Better than the himbo-off you two have going on.”

Dick made a soft choking sound. “Himbo—? Excuse me. I am a sophisticated, multi-faceted man.”

“Who poses in tight briefs for the Children of Gotham Foundation calendar,” you shot back. “Truly noble work.”

He grinned—shameless, unbothered—but you didn’t miss it. The way his gaze flicked lower, lingered, then snapped back up like he hadn’t just imagined something entirely uncharitable. He was only slightly subtler than Jason, and that was saying something.

The photographer, some buzzed-out creative from Metropolis with too much enthusiasm and not enough fear, clapped his hands. “Alright, lovers—get cozy! I want tension, heat, passion! Make the people wonder what happens when the lights go off.”

“Oh, they’ll wonder,” Jason murmured. “They’ll also wonder how I survived being kicked in the ribs.”

Rolling your eyes, you settled into the bed—Jason on your right, Dick on your left, both shirtless, smug, and entirely too close. The mattress dipped beneath your weight. The bed was warm, the lights were blinding, and the proximity was maddening.

“Closer,” the photographer insisted.

Jason leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Try not to melt.”

“Try not to pass out from your own cologne,” you whispered back, ignoring the slight hitch in your breath.

“Touch each other more,” the photographer urged. “Intimate, not stiff.”

“Stiff’s the wrong word,” Jason murmured under his breath.

You elbowed him sharply. “Try finishing that sentence and see what happens.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, but his hand slid behind your back, fingertips brushing skin like it was nothing.

Dick leaned in closer, lazy arm draping behind your shoulders. He smelled like clean skin and expensive cologne, and his voice was far too close when he said, “Is it bad I’m actually enjoying this?”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “If your hand moves even an inch lower, I’m breaking your wrist.”

“Duly noted,” he murmured, and you noticed he didn’t move. 

Jason, meanwhile, had his other hand settled lazily against your thigh. “Tell me again how you hate being around us. You’re practically glowing.”

“It’s the highlighter,” you said sweetly. “Not your proximity.”

Click. Flash. Shutter.

The photographer cheered. “Perfect. Let’s try the lap shot next. Y/N on Jason’s lap, Dick behind her.”

You blinked. “This is starting to feel suspiciously like a setup.”

Jason patted his thigh. “Come on, princess. I don’t bite. Unless that’s what you’re into.”

You shot him a flat look but climbed into place with a huff, settling across his lap. His hands found your hips instantly—confident, steady, like he’d done it a hundred times—and you hated how solid it felt. How easy. How natural.

You refused to acknowledge the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Dick moved in behind you, positioning himself with an infuriating kind of ease. His breath brushed your neck, and you felt it all the way down your spine.

“You smell good,” he said quietly, right by your ear.

“Get closer and I’ll change that.” You threaten.

Another shutter flash.

Jason’s voice was low by your ear. “You know, for someone who claims to hate us, you’re sitting awfully pretty between our legs.”

You turned your head just enough to smile at the camera. “Just fantasizing about strangling you with this overpriced bra.”

Dick chuckled softly behind you. “Careful. That’s starting to sound like flirting.”

“It’s not,” you lied—too quickly, too easily.

But the shoot kept going.

The poses got bolder—more contact, more heat, more places to put your hands where they shouldn’t feel that good. Jason’s palm resting just under your ribs. Dick’s fingers lightly grazing your collarbone. Their bodies bracketed against yours like they belonged there.

The lines between staged and real blurred with every click of the shutter. Flash after flash. Touch after touch. And somewhere in the middle of it all, it stopped feeling like acting.

When the final shot was taken and the camera was lowered, you stood too fast—heart hammering, skin flushed, throat dry.

You cleared it. “We done here?”

The photographer, looking a little dazed himself, gave a nod.

You didn’t wait. You turned to go, grabbing your robe—only to feel fingers close gently around your wrist. Not tight. Just enough to stop you.

Jason.

You glanced back, expression guarded. “What?”

“You going to admit it?”

Your brow arched. “Admit what?”

“That you didn’t hate all of that.”

You hesitated. Just a beat. Then your gaze flicked to Dick—still shirtless, arms folded, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

You turned back to Jason, let your lips curl slowly into a smirk. “No,” you said. “But I’m looking forward to the rematch next year.”

You slipped out of his hold and walked off, robe slung over one shoulder, leaving them in your wake.

Neither of them moved for a long moment.

Jason finally exhaled. “She’s going to be the death of us.”

Dick grinned, eyes still on the spot where you’d been. “What a way to go. At least we’ll die hot.”

[valrixian]

I’m not yours at all

-

Tim you will always be my favorite

-

Slide 4 is my favorite 😛anyway Someone pls save me from ap exams and finals😔

[spicy-apple-pie]

If you're ever in the mood to draw babian again, you should totally have like a toddler damian waddle up to Tim on his tiny fat legs and go "Timothy, I would like to request my daily dose of uppies"

I also gave you Babian cuddles :3

Commission Info / Kofi (members get comics a week early)

[prlssprfctn]

Batsiblings convince Jason to get himself a cooking Tiktok account, and he gives in. To his surprise, he quickly gains millions of followers and a loyal auditory. The only problem? Jason has no idea that these people came here not necessary for recipes.

Jason: Geez, my followers had been pissing me off lately.

Dick, confused: Huh? Why?

Jason: They keep commenting ATE. Like, dude? Fucking where? I am not eating in my cooking videos. What is the fucking point?

Tim, choking: Oh my fucking God-

Jason, making an angry text post for his followers: YOU ALL. STOP COMMENTING "RAW". MY MEAT IS NOT RAW. I AM A PROPER COOK. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???

Cassandra: Maybe it is time to tell him...

Tim, Steph, Duke, in unison: NO

Bruce, awkwardly trying to have a conversation with Jason: Hey, lad, how is your cooking blog is going?

Jason: Uh, people keep commenting cryptid messages. Like, the last time I was showing the right way to tenderise meat for chops because apparently it wasn't clear and someone requested the whole video? Anyway, I did it, and the whole comment section was writing me "in bed, on the floor, on the couch, on a chair, against the wall, against the window, against the door"... Like, why would I do that, not in the kitchen?

Bruce, no less clueless: Maybe it some kind of challenge. Kids love trying new stuff in extreme places nowadays.

Jason: Huh. Maybe. Thanks.

Bruce, just proud to have a proper conversation and somehow a help: Anytime, Jaylad!

Damian, who was unblissfully educated on the slang matter by Tim (because it was his responsibility as a big brother to traumatise him), with his eye twitching: ...None of these words were in Quran

[amorkuku]

Jason meeting Damian for the first time but I rewrote and made it a comic lol

(you're reading part 1)

[selkie-on-land]

Exactly!!! I think it is portayed a bit in the justice League unlimited in the first episodes, in the wonder Woman movie too but it's brushed off very quickly. Too quickly that it even feels off and weird.

A few examples:

“Imagine if DC had the courage to do to Wonder Woman what Marvel did with Thor, by heightening the culture clash between an Amazonian and modern Americans. Imagine how much fun you’d get if she was routinely confused by the casual sexism of our culture! Imagine how much joy it would give audiences if, because she comes from a matriarchal culture, she didn’t know how to behave in traditionally feminine ways, and how much fun it would be to see how that challenges people. Hell, just imagine if she saw every bit of rude sexist behavior as a challenge to fight her, because she doesn’t have the framework to understand that’s just how it is. Instead, we’ll probably get like one or two mildly feminist moments before she recedes into a character that is supposed to be strong but also non-threatening. In real life, a woman who has never known sexism in her life would be totally threatening to nearly everyone. There is no way they are going to have fun with that, though.”

— Amanda Marcotte, Don’t get too excited about a Wonder Woman Movie (via autisticbobsaginowski)

[leafbowl]

Nightwing: Uh the the- what's the word! *Says something in Romani.*

Batkids: *Stops everything to help Dick figure it out.*

Superman: It's sweet you guys are helping him but we are currently negotiating an alien invasion.

[angicoforest]

No anatomy just darkness

[spicy-apple-pie]

Dick's puppy dog eyes are extremely powerful

Commission Info / Kofi (members get comics a week early)

[artistica18]

Looking at the Future, Seeing the Past

Danny is Hoodlum, Jason’s adopted son and Red Hood’s sidekick. He shares some nervewracking habits with Robin. Jason is wondering if this is what karma is. He swears to do better.