weak-aesthetic

[weak-aesthetic]

“I don’t like him.” This time he was sat at Dick’s kitchen table, head resting in his crossed arms.

“I know,” Dick stared at the microwave as the seconds ticked down. It was different when he showed up in the middle of the day. At night, Dick could pretend he didn’t see the damage, pretend his little brother was still alive and just visiting. In the sunlight, he couldn’t. He could see every bruise and cut, could see the blood that dripped down his face. “But when have I ever been able to stop Bruce from doing something, Robin?”

His little brother rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Not Robin anymore apparently.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Dick snapped, finally turning to face him. “You’re Robin. I gave that to you. No one can take it away from you. I gave that name because you’re family. You’re my baby. My Robin.”

“What are you talking about, your baby?” He sat up and narrowed his eyes. “First of all, I’m fifteen. Second of all—”

“I wanted to adopt you. I wanted to adopt you, and Bruce stopped me. The closest thing to making you part of my family I could get was giving you Robin,” The older boy admitted.

“Oh.”

I do think the next paragraph is the most tragic but you don’t get that <3

[weak-aesthetic]

Everybody loves Nightwing

Part 2

In which Nightwing tries his best to change your opinion about him

“Morning,” Dick announces as he strolls into the dining room, swiping a handful of cookies off the platter in one smooth, unapologetic motion.

Both Damian and Tim shoot him matching disapproving glares.

He grinns and ruffles their hair as he passes, drawing annoyed swats from both before plopping down in the seat beside Bruce.

“Good morning, Master Dick,” Alfred greets with his usual grace, placing a familiar blue mug of coffee in front of him.

“You’re the best, Alfred,” Dick says cheerfully, already digging into his breakfast with enthusiasm.

“Father, we need to be at the shelter by 8:30,” Damian reminded, glancing down at his phone with military precision.

That piques Dick’s interest. Quickly remembering who else is involved in the shelter project.

“That’s today?” Bruce asks, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“He forgot,” Tim sings under his breath, not even bothering to look up.

“Yes, it is today,” Damian confirms, voice laced with mild irritation. “You said you would attend.”

“I know, but I have several meetings this morning I can’t reschedule,” Bruce replies, already tapping something into his tablet.

“You were supposed to drive us,” Damian adds, frowning. “We also have a meeting with the suppliers.”

“I’ll arrange for the driver to take you both. I’m sorry, Damian.”

Damian accepts with a quiet huff, an involuntary pout tugging at his lips.

“I could take you,” Dick offers suddenly, against all logic and better judgment.

Four sets of eyes turn to him at once.

Bruce raises an eyebrow. Tim looks up sharply, coffee halfway to his lips. Even Damian tilts his head, skeptical.

“You hate going to the company,” Damian points out flatly.

“And since when do you care about meetings that don’t involve free food?” Tim adds, deadpan.

“Forgive me for trying something new,” Dick says, feigning innocence. “Besides, Bruce is always on my case about being more involved.”

“You complained the entire ride to the company last time and we were there for five minutes! And then all the way back you-” Tim abruptly stops as the realization hits him. “Oh. Don’t tell me this is about her.”

“About who?” Damian asks, eyes narrowing.

“Our dear CSR leader,” Tim announces, his grin growing with every word.

“Really?” Damian scoffs. “I thought she made her distaste for you abundantly clear.”

“I’m not- This has absolutely nothing to do with that rude woman,” Dick says quickly, rolling his eyes and sipping his coffee like it was armor.

Bruce gives a noncommittal nod. “Whatever your reason, I think it’s great you’re finally taking some initiative.”

“Thank you,” Dick says, clinging to the only ounce of support in the room.

“In that case,” Bruce continues, “what department would you like to start in? I can have someone arrange something hands-on.”

Three pairs of eyes land on Dick again.

He panicks.

“I haven’t quite made up my mind… It all sounds really... interesting.”

“Mhm,” Tim hums, sipping his coffee with exaggerated elegance. “You could always join me and B today. Board meeting, quarterly reports, spreadsheets. Pure adrenaline.”

Dick shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Well…”

“Actually, I second that,” Damian says casually. “The idea of enduring your unsuccessful attempts at courting her makes me gag”

“I am not attempting to court anybody,” Dick snaps. “And screw you” he adds, feeling particularly offended at the 'unsuccessful' part.

“Master Dick,” Alfred chastises from behind the counter without missing a beat.

Tim laughs audibly. He is having the time of his life.

“Maybe a three-hour board meeting would be a bit much for your first day,” Bruce offers diplomatically, barely hiding the amusement in his tone. “Something more field-oriented would suit you. Damian, Dick will be joining you.”

Damian groans audibly. “Why am I being punished?”

“Hey!” Dick says. “It’s not like I’m useless. I care about animals too.”

“What do you think we’ll be doing? Petting puppies all day?” Damian shoots back.

“As long as we don't stay at a desk all day I'll be fine”

“You won’t even understand half of what we’re doing.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Dick says through gritted teeth.

“Doubtful.”

“Fu-”

“Master Dick,” Alfred warns again, voice sharp as a blade.

“Besides,” Bruce adds innocently, “y/n’s been with us long enough to give you a proper introduction to the work. If you have any questions, she’ll be the right person to ask.”His tone is neutral, but the sparkle of mischief in his eyes can't go unnoticed.

“Yes, Dick. I'm sure if you do need some guidance, she will be happy to assist.” Tim says, not even trying to hide the mockery of his statement.

Dick sinks lower in his seat, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

He really should’ve kept his mouth shut.

"Do not embarrass me,” Damian says sharply as he steps out of the car, straightening his collar like he’s heading into battle.

Dick scoffs under his breath but follows.

Inside the shelter, the space buzzes with energy. People chatting, charts pinned to boards, volunteers bustling. And there you are. Composed, confident, warm. Standing at the center of it all, laughter dancing off your lips, a natural command in your posture. You’re glowing.

The moment your eyes meet his, that genuine laughter vanishes. Your smile shifts and becomes polite, stiff.

That goddamn fake smile again.

Dick resists the urge to turn around and walk right back out.

Still, he walks toward the group, offering a wave and introducing himself.

Before you can reply, your phone rings. You step aside and answer quickly.

“Hello, sir. Yes, he’s here. Of course. Always happy to help. Goodbye.”

You hang up with a tired sigh, then turn to him with that same well-trained expression.

“Mr. Wayne just informed me you’ll be joining the project’s core team. We’re glad to have you. Fresh ideas are always welcome,” you say, pressing a clipboard to your chest.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Happy to help.”

The meeting begins shortly after. You dim the lights, and the projector beams a clean PowerPoint onto the wall.

Dick sits at the edge of the group, watching you command the room like a general leading her troops.

He doesn’t understand half of what you’re saying.

But damn if he isn’t impressed.

Every few minutes, you glance back at him and clarify something softly, quickly. “DTG means ‘days to go,’ Mr. Grayson,” or “I’m sending the KPI breakdown to your inbox now, Mr. Grayson.”

He nods along like he gets it. He doesn’t. And that little smile you give him every time? It’s both kind and mildly pitying. It makes him feel twelve years old again.

He’s not stupid. He was trained by Batman, trained to be one of the best detectives in the world. Designing and modifying tech and armaments? Easy. Hacking into highly secure computer systems? With his eyes closed. Forensic science and criminology? Mastered it at 13. But why on earth would he need to know what a social return on investment is? Or how to read a fifty-tab spreadsheet?

Corporate life is his personal hell.

And yet, the way you speak about the project, the way your team listens to you with admiration, the way you light up when talking about deliverables and community impact. You are so incredibly motivated and passionate about it that he could not help but be excited about it too.

He takes pride in being a good leader, or at least he tried to, and seeing you owning this project is incredibly attractive. You were incredibly attractive.

Even when you hand him homework at the end of the day, a stack of Excel sheets and financial forecasts, he just nods, pretending he’s got it handled. Tim is glad to help him with it at home, not without turning every question Dick asks into a comedic bit.

The week goes on. You start testing him, gently, but clearly.

“We need to finalize the order tomorrow. Mr. Grayson, do you remember the deadline for this phase?” or “Mr. Grayson can explain that, right?” said with a look that’s more encouraging than challenging.

You’re not mocking him. You’re including him, trying to make him feel like part of the team. You’ve noticed Damian’s relentless teasing and want to give him a chance to shine.

And to be fair he really is improving. He gets most of the answers right. Sometimes he even surprises you.

But Dick doesn’t see any of that. To him, it’s just humiliation after humiliation. Especially when Tim is in the room, watching him flail like a drowning man grasping at acronyms.

The final straw comes on Friday.

“Dick,” you say casually, “could you handle the kennel shipment coordination? I have to head to the company for a few hours.”

“Sure, we’ll manage,” he says, tossing an arm over Damian’s shoulder.

Damian promptly ducks out from under it. “Correction. You’ll be managing it alone. Father requested my presence at the office.”

Dick swallows.

You hand him the documents, carefully explaining what needs to be done. All the quantities, the schedule, the importance of securing the materials properly.

It doesn’t seem that hard. Just a delivery. Like Uber Eats, but for thousands of dollars.

And he nails it. Signs the paperwork, even cracks a few jokes with the delivery guys. Feels good, confident again.

Barely a couple minutes after, you text him extremely apologetic. Explaining that the meetings had overextended, that you could not make it.

He texts back, assuring you he would close everything and leave.

Then he hears it. The sound of gunfire and sirens just a few streets down.

He hears a notification from your response. But he’s already running away, closing the door behind him as he gears up. He changes into the Nightwing suit and disappears into the night, breaking up a robbery, saving lives. It’s his job. After that he goes directly to his daily patrol.

He gets home late. Collapses in bed.

He wakes up to over ten missed calls and messages from you.

7:02 PM – Thank you so much! Just please don’t forget to lock it with the key and the padlock, or it’ll swing open. They’re in the first drawer of the white table.

7:03 PM – Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll come early tomorrow to check things!

7:30 AM – Dick, did you use the key?

7:30 AM – Where are the materials?

7:31 AM – Something happened. I know it’s early but please come.

7:31 AM – Please answer.

7:31 AM – Please call me back.

His stomach drops.

Fuck.

He didn’t lock it. He didn't know about the padlock.

He rushes there, calling you again and again. No answer.

When he arrives, the place is in chaos. Supplies gone. Boxes overturned. Police tape stretched across what was once a spotless workspace.

He finds you speaking with an officer, your voice strained, exhaustion written across your face.

“Dick!” you call out, eyes wide as you hurry to meet him. “Someone broke in. They took everything, the whole shipment from yesterday is gone.” You blink rapidly, trying not to cry. Your voice was distraught. “You locked it up, right? Like I said?”

He can’t meet your eyes. He shakes his head. Guilt eating him alive.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice low. “Something came up. I didn’t see the message.”

He awaits your response, bracing for the anger, the yells.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Your calm and understanding voice takes him by surprise. “Just talk to the officers, please. I have some calls to make.”

“I can talk to Bruce,” he offers quickly. “He’ll understand- ”

“No,” you interrupt. “This was not your responsibility. I should have gotten that door changes before I-” you sigh, passing your hand through your hair. “This is my fault. I’ll handle it.”

You walk away before he can stop you.

And later, when he talks to Bruce anyway, he learns you never mentioned him at all. You took the fall entirely.

He feels even worse.

So he does what he does best. He investigates.

Nightwing spends the next several days hunting the thieves, following cold leads through the worst parts of Gotham. He doesn’t call you, doesn’t go home. Not until he finds them. Not until he can make it right.

And when he does, he returns all the materials at night, still fully geared up as Nightwing.

He hadn’t planned to see you. He thought you’d gone home by now. But there you are, at 10 p.m., sitting under a flickering light, typing at your laptop like it’s the only thing keeping the world from collapsing.

You look up, eyes going wide as he steps through the door.

“Oh my God!” You say getting up as soon as you see the truck full of things. “How- I didn't-” you stutter, voice breathless.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll be more careful and I already got that door changed.”

He just nods, still and silent beneath the mask, watching the relief settle over your features like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Then he takes a slow step back, into the shadows. Out of your line of sight.

He's supposed to feel better by this part. But he can't get over the fact that in your eyes he is still a coward that run away as soon as he messed up.

You will never know it was him. You'll never know that he had corrected his mistake, that he was not as stupid as you probably thought he was.

If you didn't have a reason to hate him before, you have one now.

< Part 1 Part 3 >

Tags: @gradeasimp43-blog @sept3mberchild @rockyeatrock @hopes-peak-akademy @cybergoth1

Hope you like it! And I'm sorry it took so long!

[weak-aesthetic]

Dick Grayson's face card is so powerful he makes good people want to do bad things.

[weak-aesthetic]

Headcanon that Jason goes to his grave to relax and absolutely scares the shit out of people

———

Dick: approaching Jason's headstone with flowers, and teary eyes "Hey Little Wing... I know we argued yesterday, and I—I just needed to come here like I used to. Sometimes I forget you're actually back."

The ground shifts slightly beneath him. Dick freezes.

Jason: casually pushing open his coffin lid and sitting up with bed hair and a stifled yawn "Could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest in peace here."

Dick: jumps backward, tripping over a nearby headstone and falling flat on his back. His scream echoes through the cemetery. "HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE ACTUAL—" clutches his chest "JASON?!"

Jason: stretching "Who were you expecting? The Joker?"

Dick: scrambling to his feet, voice cracking "WHY WERE YOU IN YOUR GRAVE?!"

Jason: climbing out and brushing dirt off his jacket "It's the only place in this godforsaken city where I can get some peace and quiet. Alfred's always cleaning at the manor, Tim's typing is incessant, and Damian—" he shudders dramatically, "—exists loudly." gestures to the coffin "Memory foam. Added it last month."

Dick: still hyperventilating "That's... that's the most morbid thing I've ever heard."

Jason: shrugging "Says the guy who talks to my headstone when I'm not dead."

Dick: after a long pause "...Does Alfred know about this?"

Jason: "Who do you think brings me sandwiches?"

[weak-aesthetic]

kudos to comic book artists for having the strength to produce really nice art for really ass storylines sometimes like man

[weak-aesthetic]

i hate the part of depression that’s like all the things that bring me joy are empty and i can’t do anything. like come on bitch i know you love book can you just be happy about book :/

[weak-aesthetic]

Made a post hours ago about Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon's children through the universes and forgot to add their only and canon current baby...

Haley!!!🤭🩵

See she's got her father's eyes

Loves her parents a lot

But Haley...

Is clearly a Mama's Girl🙏

[weak-aesthetic]

[weak-aesthetic]

୨୧ ── Stream with me!

› Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Streamer!Wife!Reader

› Scenario: What more could a wife who streams want other than streaming with her husband? Nothing! Maybe. It depends. But in this universe—best believe that it is all you've ever wanted! What does your husband think about it, though?

› Notes: English is not my first language + Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + almost 6k words that's why it took me days to write TT + Cringe and unhinged alert + big poo and goobert stole the show

Bruce Wayne

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he watches you set up before starting the stream. A warm smile adorns his face, but he's still reluctant to show up as a guest. Just why did someone suggest a wife and husband bonding time in your streams? You were overjoyed that you ended up calling him in the middle of your stream to ask him about it.

Bruce excused himself and let an executive continue the briefing. His gruff voice sounded soft when he called your name, asking why you suddenly called—not even the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice at the fact you called during a meeting.

"Honey, look at the picture I sent!" He questions what could possibly have his wife over the moon. With the monitor in his lens, the picture popped in front of him. It was a 5 dollar donation from UnkissedBrick that said—in all caps—

"MAKE A STREAM WITH YOUR HUSBAND AND MY LIFE IS YOURS !!!$%5@5@"

It started a spark within the community that they were BEGGING you to make it come true. 

A stream to make money, have fun, and be with your husband at the same time? Of course you'd agree. Best believe that Bruce had no way out of this, you barely asked anything from him—would he have the heart to decline a simple request such as this?

No! And that's why he's here sitting beside you, wearing your adorable, pink headphones. It was something entirely new in his life. Never, and I mean never, has Bruce imagined he'll be wearing this godforsaken headphone for millions to see. The only thing stopping him from taking it off was obviously you—his wife.

"Wow! Thank you all so much for coming to see this stream. There's a lot more of you today."

Bruce snaps his head in your direction, giving him a clear view of how you marveled at the screens in front of you. A thought slips into his mind, whispering thoughts that made him worry about you. 

A lot more today? 

How many more were there than usual?

He'll let anything happen, just not this. Stealing the light from you is a scenario he didn't want to occur in this very video. It's your stream, it's your channel—not his. His blood pressure spikes at the thoughts flooding his head. And yet, you didn't seem to mind, you're just thanking them.

Bruce looked at the rapid comments piling up on the screen, amazed by the speed of people commenting. Nothing's too quick for his eyes, though. Who do you take him for? He reads every single one. Despite his worries, it was drastically different from what he thought. Your fanbase was literally fighting the viewers who only came for him.

BigPoo: Coming here ONLY for the husband is soooo embarrassing

isayholAcomosta: Scram your asses outta here man

IAMBatman: LMAOO IMAGINE WATCHING FOR BRUCE WAYNE

InstantoPreggo: either support her (and him ig) or face the consequences of my 16-inch-thick, fat, JUICY HUMONGOUS D!LD0 UP YOUR ASS.

Bruce had to flinch himself away from the monitor after reading that last comment. 

He looks at you with disbelief. So this is what you were laughing at... To be fair, it is rather amusing, to say the least. The look on his face makes you laugh even more now that you've spared some time to actually look at your husband's worry corner beside you.

The chat stops when you scold them to support both of you, also instructing the mods to delete any negative comments about Bruce. Which is odd since you remember telling them to do so beforehand.

"Don't worry about them, honey. Let's just have fun."

The kiss you give on his cheek eases Bruce, his bigger hands take yours to caress it in a comforting way. But really, we know it was for him. A deep sigh escapes his lips, knowing he has nothing to worry about anymore aside from getting through this stream with you.

You've noticed him being quiet again. He should try focusing on the game you're playing so he could see how fun it is. You told him to have fun, and Bruce is trying, believe me. 

Bruce folds his arms and directs his attention to the monitor where you're playing some kind of simulator game about supermarkets. The store layout is nice, though it looks cramped, the prices are lower than the market price, the other products are understocked, and the bills were due in-game. 

"Honey, are you playing this right?" 

"Am I not?"

He's spent years managing businesses, come on. Bruce is shrewd. And seeing his dear wife fail at this supermarket simulator, no can do. He's just lucky this game is right up his alley. You let go of the keyboard and mouse unattended to listen to his suggestions. 

What was hotter than the fact that there's a hot man explaining business tactics to you? Correct, he's your husband! And a smart husband is a hot husband.

Bruce was so concerned with his strategies that he suddenly went on autopilot and grabbed the controls to show you instead of using words. You stifle a laugh behind your hand. When did he learn all those controls? He wasn't just moping around beside you, and he actually was paying attention? You might just want to request another wedding again.

His only intention was to show you how you were supposed to manage the shop. Bruce demonstrated that perfectly. So why is he still in control? His mind wants to let go. And letting go would mean he'll have to leave playing this game. The escaped chuckles from you reached his ears. With a tentative glance and muted rosy cheeks, it was like he was asking permission to keep playing.

"Go on, dear. I'll just watch you play." You mean it. Watching Bruce play a game was more enjoyable than playing, he understands it more anyways. You don't think your heart will ever feel cold when you look at him. Not ever while you're still breathing and alive to keep on loving him.

Your eyes narrow with every part of Bruce that your eyes land on. A subconscious gulp was made when you took notice of the few strands of hair that hung on top of his forehead, the way veins would pop in his forearms with a few movements when he used the keyboard and mouse, and the musky scent of his cologne that perked your senses up—you'd wonder to yourself why you didn't have at least one child with him already.

The overflowing amount of comments in the corner of your eye catches your attention. You scoot closer to read it.

Tin-a-pie: Miss ma'am is so DOWNBAD

Big Poo: "Eaaasy white chocolate"  AHH TYPE SHIIT

MMONEYY: Bruce Wayne's gonna melt 

Goobert: ON EVERYBODY'S SOUL WE ALL WANT TO BE IN BETWEEN THEM

You snort, hitting Bruce's shoulder repeatedly. The man loses focus on his game, amusement in his eyes as you stood up to sit on his lap. He catches you in his arms, holding your shaking body in amusement. Guess he didn't have to excessively worry, after all—spending time and making you happy is his priority today.

"Are you happy, my love?" Bruce pressed his forehead against yours. His forearms had a grip on your waist that felt so secure and warm that even if you melted, you'd still be in his arms.

"Very. Thank you, Bruce." Oh, how your laughter gets his heart kicking and running.

The chat floods once again with teaseful comments. Too many for you to read without getting blown by another. Not that it matters, your husband is too busy being pampered in your kisses.

Bruce's phone vibrates nonstop in his pocket. You fished it out for him and opened it to see Dick's face with an image attached to it.

I hope Mom doesn't mind the new sticker I added to the chat. Tell her I told the other mods about it. ;]

Bruce was in the middle of questioning what his first son said only to be caught off guard with you abruptly shifting your body weight against him, laughing uncontrollably. The chat was spamming a photo of Bruce from earlier when he was so focused on the supermarket simulator game.

"I didn't look like that, did I?" He stares at you deadpan, making you laugh harder.

Dick Grayson

Is this even your stream at all? How was he acting like close friends to your viewers after a few minutes? You stare at your husband dumbfounded. Although you know that Dick has a charming aura and personality, you didn't expect it to leak through the screen and into their hearts within minutes of knowing him!

When you asked Dick if he wanted to do a stream with you, he basically almost leaped with joy. Just almost—because he suddenly hugged you before he could jump up into space from the ecstasy of his dear, loving wife if he wanted to do a gaming video with you.

Actually, Dick has always wanted to. The thought of having millions see how loved you are in his arms—OH THE SEROTONIN—Dick can't wait to do so. He just waited and waited and waited—until you finally invited him.

You can't actually hide your jealousy well about the fact that he's paying more attention to the chat than you.

Goobert: I suddenly feel like a mistress caught in the act with how the missus is looking from behind you

Big Poo: NAH HE'S OUR HUSBAND NOW

TheAMAZINGpie: She's so jealous LMAOOO tease her more

Good thing Dick was staring intently at the chat, he couldn't see your secretive middle finger you're flashing at the viewers. He laughs and takes a quick glance at you over his shoulder, then back to the chat. A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth. Those snitches!

"Yes, chat, these are the true colors of my wife. She's more barbaric when it's just us two here." The playful tone has you pinching his sides. Dick laughs and flinches away from your hand.

"See? She keeps on hurting me."

"Quit the baby voice, Dick, oh my God! Eww." 

You gag at your husband, earning yet another heartfelt laugh. It was hard to pretend you were annoyed when everything felt so warm and natural. Dick is lucky he's your husband, or else you would've strangled him out of annoyance by now.

"Horror games are overrated, let's play simple ones." He pouts at you.

"What do you suggest then?"

And that's how you found yourself playing dress-up games at the old girl games website, where you can find all of the low-quality yet nostalgic games for girls in the world. You both competed in a game where the game picks who made the better outfit.

Imagine the look of disbelief in your face when he keeps winning 5 times in a row—5 times! Dick has got to be cheating, because in no way Dick Grayson has more fashion sense than you, right? Fight him, girl!

"You are so cheating, babe! How are you the winner every round?"

Dick raised his arms in a smug way, shrugging you off to annoy you. "Ah, the loser is barking. Face it, babe. I'm better." He blows you a kiss that you playfully shooed away, pinching your nose after. Dick gasps at your action, fighting the urge to laugh and just play along.

"Still can't beat me, honey."

"Pick another game. You'll taste defeat, Grayson."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grayson."

That's a blow to your pride. Imagine getting flustered in the middle of your bickering. Now you let a smug grin slip on your husband's face. Girl, you better stand on business cause you are losing FACE to your viewers right now.

5 girl go games later and you're still somehow losing to Dick. It feels like your sex has been reversed because what the hell? Maybe you are a man... at heart. How are you losing to a full grown man who—mind you—suggested that you play these games! Dick might be playing these at night when you're asleep.

It was a cooking game this time. You both need to beat each other with higher scores and more satisfied customers, obviously. It was just a mystery how he still wins when you both clearly see the big, colorful letters in bold saying that the dish you prepared was perfect—and he still wins!?

"That's it! I'm convinced you are cheating." You point a finger at him.

"It's just a matter of skill, hun." He smirks at you.

The last resort—your faithful, loyal, loving chat will support you on your accusations, right? Oh no, that smile on your face was wiped when you saw an ongoing poll on the stream. Scratch what you used to describe your chat, they are being the total opposite right now.

Overthrow the queen and appoint Dickie as the new ruler!

It's worst enough that it was 99% over 1%. You look at the camera with a death stare, in disbelief that your dear fans would overthrow you like this. Is it because Dick was more charming and had a larger ass than you? Okay, maybe keep that last thought to yourself because they cannot see the down half of your bodies.

And an annoying donation comes in the heat of the moment...

Daywalk donated 5$  

I'm looking at the most breathtaking, marvelous, amazing, pretty, kind, majestic, beautiful, attractive, sexy, hot, and gorjus (idk how to spell) right now and oh—I didn't realize you were here, sweetheart

Dick was giggling uncontrollably beside you with his phone in his hands. You saw the stream on his screen split seconds before he hid it beside him where you can't reach it. Did he really think you wouldn't notice it was him with this shitty ass username?

"Really, Dick? Daywalk? That's the best you could come up with?" You bury your face in your hand, imitating a facepalm to hide your laughter. You hate how he can easily make you laugh with the stupidest things.

"I am a fan of Nightwing, Babe. He has such good hair, good facial features, and that goddamn juicy ass of his. Have you seen his—"

"Dick."

"Okay, okay, sheesh, God forbid a man uplift his fellow man." He raised his hands in mock defeat. Backing away from that look of yours.

Dick Grayson is audacious. Partly one of the reasons why you married this man. 

You gave up, rolled your eyes, and just gave him a kiss to shut him up.

Jason Todd

"Oh come on, baby, you know you're happy to be here." 

You snicker at the scowl on his face. Jason looked like he wanted to drop a smoke bomb to escape the stream, but of course he wouldn't! What you said is true—he is ecstatic to be here. He refused your offer several times before caving in... and just a little secret, he just wanted to see how bad you want him to be in one.

In fact, he had the stream planned out already. In the span of the 3 days where you begged him to stream with you, Jason used it as a time to search for games to play, imagine scenarios, and other cute stuff that he wants to make happen today.

First things first, seem tough enough to place boundaries through his stare and seem friendly enough to joke around with him. Check. The chat was respectful to Jason and some joked around that this looked like Doomguy and Isabelle looking relationship.

"Oh please, it's more switched. This guy's a baby." Jason's eyes widen when you pull his chair to ruffle on his hair like a little kid. He glares up at you. Okay—maybe, this is tolerable, it has a loving effect to the viewers. Yes, this is fine. 

"Jason, don't bob your head like that onto my boob." You snort and push his head away. Ah, he thought he was nodding inside his head.

Big Poo: He's kinda weird... I like him

Goobert: We accept weird big guy and queen dynamics

Ignoring that small weird display of his, it's time for phase 2—urge you to play horror games of his choice. He didn't binge watch couples playing horror games last night just for you to play other games. A mischievous grin is fighting it's way to make itself appear on his lips. Jason expects you to get scared, cling to him, and show off the muscles he spent the few days toning. 

And as if he wasn't toned enough, Jason plans to show that this muscles of his won't be just for show if they decided to mug you in the streets while he's around. Anyone who's watching this stream would be a warning for parasocial freaks who'll try something with you.

"How about we play this one, babe?" He points at the game he searched up.

With a look of disbelief, you could only sigh at your husband's antics. He couldn't have been more obvious than this. The longer reps of his biceps workouts? Yeah, he's definitely planning something to show it off.

You sigh, and start the game up. The chat snitches on him smiling widely behind you as the game starts. It quickly disappears when you turn around, then reappears when you don't look. He gives the chat a playful motion of slicing his neck then points at the camera with a finger placed on his lips.

With a discreet glance behind you, there, you saw your husband doing a face that could kill that's accompanied by creepy giggles. In all of the years you've been together, not once could a sight like this ever cross your mind. Why is he having internet beef with your viewers?

Does he also think you can't see him through your stream view at your other monitor? You also stare at the gummy smile on your face, still having no resistance in finding everything he does as cute.

Heck, even if he snapped someone's neck in front of you with a sassy remark after, you'll still find it cute. Fucked up, yes, but hey, it's not like you haven't had body counts of your own in your other line of work.

Jason lets out an amused scoff at your unwavering focus to navigate through the dark cellar. There hasn't been a single jumpscare since you started. But because of his horror game video marathon, he's got every single one memorized. 

It'll take some time before the first one. In the meanwhile, he knows what to do to get you to warm up for the big scare.

His hands snakes itself downward, right past his own chair. You were focused on getting out of the sealed room that the chat's warnings fell to deaf ears... or eyes. Jason inches his chair closer to yours, carefully, so that his chair won't bump into yours.

An annoying habit of his that once made his teeth bleed from your punch. He waits until you're about to turn around a corner to strike—Jason bolts your body with an abrupt push on your shoulder. "Boo!"

The most he got from you was a loud curse and your middle finger in the middle of his face.

"Jason—We agreed on never doing that again. Fuck you, honestly." You glare at him through the monitor, not wasting another second to look back at the game. Your ears perk at the loud laugh that seeps through your headphones. 

"Oh please, you're not too much of a pussy to get scared from that, aren't you?" 

"Is that a challenge?" 

Jason waits for suspense, waiting until he knows you're almost near the first jumpscare of the game to throw you off. His hands once again find the liberty to make you jolt, making you lose focus and lightly smack your husband beside you.

Once you get back to the game, a horrifying figure appears on the screen, taking almost all of the pixels it offers. You flinch back and shield your eyes away the moment Jason tries to cover you from the screen.

It all happened suddenly. But it was if time moved slower for Jason.

One minute he was about to hug you.

The next, your fist connects with his face.

Jason didn't budge but hell—your punch still hurts as when you first met!

"You promised to never punch me again!" Jason whines.

Another promise was broken. As if Jason didn't break his earlier? He's sure his jaw also is. With a grimace and a guilty heart, you caressed his face softly. It was your way of apologizing. Oh well, it's both of your faults so let's just get back to gaming.

Big Poo: Leave Doomguy and Isabelle, bro. They're Mr. and Mrs. Smith at this point

Goobert: They're both tryna survive from each other

So what if Jason's plans failed? His jaw is aching—that's fine! He still has other ways... A plan B if you will. As long as his biceps will have a spotlight. He asks you, sweetly, if he could play instead. Jason smirks triumphantly as he knows you can't resist his weirdly adorable, beaten-up face.

He was actually doing so well for someone who's allegedly never saw or played this game before. Jason passed through each trial with flying colors.

When another jumpscare had shown itself, you were suprised to see your husband inch his shoulder closer to the monitor.

"Not flexin! But look at these chills man." He's definitely flexing.

The chat goes crazy! Comments pile up regarding your 'done-with-the-bullshit-face' at the back and mostly about Jason's muscles. He yaps about the non existent chills on his biceps that the chat eats up.

Big Poo: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD—PLEASE HEADLOCK ME

Goobert: I was unfamiliar with your game, Jason. Forgive me (pls flex more)

TheCrowbar: The crowbar approves of this marriage.

"We already are married, bud. If you wanted to say no, you could've done so 4 years ago." Jason rolls his eyes at the comment.

Yeah, he's definitely not warning everyone with that sass.

Tim Drake

"How is everyone mistaking me as your brother?"

Tim glares the chat through the screen. Evidently pissed at the teasing comments towards him. They knew who he was. How could they not? You always mention him and even introduced him at the start of the stream.

He gently grabs your left hand, raising it to show your matching rings.

Big Poo: AWWW! Such a cute sibling promise rings

Goobert: He loves his sister so much. ackk its so cute!!1!!

You try your best not to laugh. It might set Tim off and make him leave without creating any content. Despite wanting to see him get teased and pissed, you had to stop the chat with a few words.

"That's enough teasing my husband, guys. He doesn't like it." But you do. Your viewers seem to caught on your interest from the way you smile and stare at him earlier. Thankfully, they play along at the moment.

"What game do you guys want to see us play?"

Ah, you shouldn't have asked them. Your husband is a geek for video games! He's better than you at every game you guys play. He was more a tower defense, strategic, and board games type of guy. Doesn't make him any less of a weak player when it comes to games like Nekket, Super Smash Sis, though.

You drag Tim along with you to read some comments. He's impressed at the rapid comment speed your viewers have. Can you read a lot from this on a daily basis? There's a lot of unhinged comments slipping through his eyes too.

"Horror games? That sounds good."

What!

Tim snaps his eyes beside you, wide with surprise.

Before you could even ask for his opinion, your husband was already shaking his head sideways. He even had his arms crossed to match with his disagreement towards the suggestion. Tim does not want horror games this late at night. Absolutely not. Not inside this household when he's around.

He knows you're questioning him. But Tim can't tell you he watched the new horror movie you've been getting him to watch with you—alone. In his defense, he didn't want you to waste money on another shitty movie like last time, so, he scavenged alone to determine if it is as good as they say.

This is the result of his little secret mission from you. It's not his fault he hasn't recovered! You didn't see how terrifying it was for yourself... and not that he plans on letting you know.

Your viewers feed on his terror, already laughing to themselves behind their screens. Tim is just unlucky that you have wealthy viewers ready to make an offer you both can't resist. Like what do you mean two people named Big Poo and Goobert paid $10,000 each just for Tim to play?

And that's how the unlucky Timothy Drake found himself hiding behind your frame, occasionally peeking behind your hair to see how his wife is doing.

Everytime you turn into a corner, flashes of that horrible face appear in front of him. God, why are the lights turned off in your room? He doesn't even want to stand up to turn it on. He's aware he's a grown man, but God forbid a man like him can't get scared.

He takes a peek at the comments at the side.

HoelessRomantic: You shouldn't go there if I were you...

Tin-a-pie: GIRL DON'T

Goobert: You're purposely going there to scare baby bro

Baby bro?! This Goobert did not just say that. It felt like all his fear went away. He pushed himself away from your back. You weren't kidding that saying anymore brother jokes will tick him off.

"You may have beaten me at suggestions, but you won't defeat me in terms of winning over my wife!" He scowls at the monitor, taking you and your viewers aback. "I'm looking at you, Goobert... This is a threat." He smiles maniacally.

Tim sweetly smiles at you. One of the things you can't resist.

"Okay... okay.. calm down, Baby. What game do you want?"

"Oh trust me, you'll love it, honey." Tim presses a kiss on your forehead as he takes control.

You love Tim.

You know him well enough considering he's your husband for 4 years now.

But you guess you didn't know him well enough to expect him to suddenly exit the game and pull out a whole ass board game between you guys. Was it sitting there unnoticed the whole time? No matter, you recognized it to be one of his favorite board games.

He excitedly sets it up on the desk for the chat to see. A smug grin on his face to show off his pre-ordered game with freebies. Tim's so excited to share a game he's mastered.

"I bet you kids don't know this. Back in my days, this was the bomb." He proudly boasts.

Big Poo: Bro pulled out his last resort

Goobert: He had to gain back some aura obv

MMONEYY: Are you sure he gained some?

Ignoring their comments, Tim starts on the basics on how to play the game. Here comes the hardest part in being his wife—listening to his long, heartfelt explanation of Dungeons and Reptiles for the second time.

Nonetheless, you were blessed to hear his voice chip at every detail of the game. To see how the love of your life's eyes gleam to share facts to the viewers you tell about Tim everyday. They knew he was a nerd from your stories—but to see and hear it real time is something else.

Tim looked like a grandparent telling stories of his youth. The stories that seemed boring, but you can't help but listen in to. Although the comments complained that it was boring, and he's like an old man, the viewer count didn't decrease. 

They all listened intently with you. Do they see the vision on why you fell in love with Tim? Definitely.

Big Poo: All in vote of Tim being promoted to Husband, say aye.

Goobert: AYEEE

HoelessRomantic: Aye.

Tin-a-pie: Aye!!!

and a million others more.

"Oh so now I'm officially seen as the husband?" Tim laughs, stopping his yap about the game. He gives you a warm look and pulls you towards him. "I guess it's better than being the little brother, babe." He kisses you passionately while covering your eyes to raise his ring finger alone to the chat.

Tim must have the last laugh after all that teasing.

Damian Wayne

Damian has never been this clingy before. Is it because he's finally out in the open with you for millions to watch behind the safety of their screens? He doesn't know—only that he needs to make sure you're his only.

You can see how red his ears are on the monitor, his body boiling at the simple, cute gesture of having you in his lap while you introduced yourself and him to your viewers. This isn't PDA, he knows you're both technically alone in your shared room. 

Still, he isn't used to it. He's been in the spotlight several times, sure—he's Damian Wayne, hello! Son of Bruce Wayne? You get my point, but, he hasn't really been out with you to the media except the time you got married. Damian's more of a private, but not secret type of guy, you know? 

It wasn't difficult to make him agree. With a simple kiss, doe eyes, and a sweet smile, Damian would say yes without a thought!

Oh, but your chat was the mischievous type. One look at Damian and they all knew he was a guy who'd go boom for his lady. And what type of Boom you may ask? Well...

Big Poo: She is NOT going anywhere blud, calm dowwwnnnnn

Goobert: Acting like a damn dog who doesn't want to share the tree he peed on in 2025 is crazy

HoelessRomantic: Let OUR wife go you madman

"Our wife?" He growls, glaring at the camera. Damian would've stood up from his seat if you weren't on his lap. 

He had ignored the first two comments above that, choosing to focus on a comment about his wife. Like—that's his wife! Not hard to understand. He had everything to prove it. Pictures of your wedding day, legal certificates, your wedding rings, and a lot more!

Instead, he snaps his head to the side, acting like he was looking at a physical body to scan up and down with a warning glare. Possessive and explosive... The chat likes that. They'll have the night of their lives dedicated to set Damian off.

"They're normally like that. Don't mind them, Honey." 

He would've let it pass, and listened to your coo. And yet you let him hear you use the word, normally. Normally—as in, you listen to these goofs call you their wife? He doesn't want that. He'll create online beef for you.

And so it began, the chat and Damian's cold war.

The purpose of gaming is gone. Only Damian's sassy remarks and the viewers saying flirty stuff to get on his nerves becomes the content and entertainment. So much for the games you thought you were gonna play today.

But this? You'd pay to watch the whole day. Judging by that smug smirk on your husband's lips, he's aware that they were just teasing him. What can you say... after being with a wife who ragebaits for fun can train you into tolerating bullshit.

And what's a good way to tolerate bullshit? Fight it with your own bullshit, of course. And laughs—to show that he and you are joking. We're trying not to get banned here. So much for the millions of followers if it all ended because of his unhinged comments.

Big Poo: Pull up on roblox right now old geezer or lose husband rights to the whole chat

Goobert: OOOOOH SHITS GOING DOWN

HoelessRomantic: Millions of games and you choose roblox

Tin-a-pie: Imagine losing husband rights to a roblox game...

As soon as you read the chat's algorithm, you shake your head no at Damian. He shouldn't pick a fight over a game he doesn't know. 

It was too late though.

"Challenge accepted." Damian points at the camera. 

Hold on—his smugness falters. You raise a brow over the abrupt change of mood.

"Babe, do you have a roblox account?" He was so adamant in that petty challenge, it was hard to say no at this point. "You better win, loser."

"Do I look like one?" If he has the energy to roll his eyes at you, he might have the energy to kick butt on a game.

You're still appalled that it's roblox of all games. How old was this Big Poo viewer of yours to pick this one specifically? You sure hope it's not a 15 year old... or worse, they could be in the single digits! Oh God, where are this kid's parents?

"In what game will we settle this, Big Poo?" 

Big Poo: Tower of hell :>

Goobert: I honestly thought you'd pick murder mystery 

Big Poo: Let the old man get a taste of the... OBBY MASTERRR

Hey, hey—is this even your stream anymore or Big Poo and Goobert's private chats?

Tower of hell isn't hard. You've played it before. It was just a matter of skill to climb the tower. Damian listens intently to your instructions while waiting for the game to load where Big Poo's avatar was waiting.

"Listen, Dami, just jump over the glowing blocks and shiftlock when needed, okay? You got this, dear!" 

Damian pats on his lips repeatedly until you figure out his motions. With a sigh and a chuckle, you move closer to give him a peck—just a peck! But your beloved had other plans. He pulls you by your hand and smashes his lips against yours. Your quick reflexes immediately covered the camera.

"I can't fathom how I'm in need of a kiss over a lego game."

"Me too. I feel so stupid."

You both laugh, parting away from each other when Big Poo starts to countdown in game.

It was going so well! Damian was in the lead. He's actually pretty good with obbies even if he's a noob. Mind you, he had no practice before the match. Did his training in life transfer to your roblox avatar right now? How is he moving and advancing so fast.

The chat goes crazy with a notable presence—Goobert. The poor guy was screaming their bestfriend's name so bad. They almost looked like a desperate wife wishing their soldier husband to come back home safely.

The whole chat was amazed to see Damian—a noob—winning. And he knows he is.

Goobert: USE THE SECRET WEAPON HERMANO

Damian arrives at the last platform. You marvel at the close gap between him and Big Poo. He's actually gonna win this stupid roblox bet? But what—why did Damian suddenly stop? Don't tell me he's about to—

He types fast in-game, a smug smirk on his face as he watches Big Poo's avatar inch closer to his. In just a few thumbs away, Damian sends his message.

Husband rights defended! ;p

And it was silent—the time went slow. The crowd was astounded when Big Poo suddenly had a stick with a hand at the end. It happened in slow motion. Especially for Damian who worked his way up to the top. 

No matter how fast his reflexes are... it wasn't the same with the wifi.

As your roblox character fell, Damian looked dead in the camera.

"Big Poo..." 

Uh oh

"I BETTER NOT SEE YOU HERE IN GOTHAM OR ELSE I WILL—"

The stream has ended.

extra scene!

In another universe...

In the timeline of Young Justice...

Jaime and Bart were laughing their asses off. Each had their own unique device that hasn't been seen by humankind other than them. It's a mystery how they even got it. Well, it was just on the table... so, it won't hurt to touch, right?

They've both been at it all day long. Lucky for them to have the day off, honestly. Or else they would've missed this multidimensional device that shows different universes. Never in their life would they see 5 of the batfamily like that.

Although 1 of them is unfamilliar, and the second Robin has changed so much.

In a span of 18 hours, all they did was watch the streams.

"How'd you even come up with Big Poo, Ese?"

"You don't wanna know what happened yesterday." Bart snickers. "Well, how about you, Goobert?"

"Don't ask me, it was Scarab's idea."

They both went silent—reminiscing the streams they just watched.

"Do you think M'gann will notice the missing $20,000 from the funds?"

"Don't worry about M'gann, worry about—"

"What $20,000?" Tim's voice springs behind them.

Great.

It just had to be the Robin who the $20,000 went to in another universe.

They better explain well or else they'll be in an interrogation room with the whole Bat Family listening in.

[weak-aesthetic]

WHAT EACH BATBOYS' LOVE LANGUAGE WOULD BE !

“God help me, I think I’d let you burn every part of me, just to feel your fire.”

— bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd & duke thomas.

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

Bruce Wayne — Acts of Service

Bruce Wayne speaks in the language of absence. Not just the physical kind—but the ache that blooms in the hollow of a sentence never finished.

He remembers, with the grim precision of a ticking clock, the last words his father said before the world cleaved open. They were nothing special—a reminder about theater etiquette, half a laugh. Ordinary, so utterly human. And then: gunpowder, scream, silence. Since then, Bruce has distrusted words. They are fleeting, breakable, unable to stop death.

So when he loves, he does not say it. He builds it, piece by trembling piece, behind the scenes. A second suit, custom-fitted for your frame. A silent wire transfer to cover your mother’s hospital bills. Patrol schedules adjusted so you never cross paths with the villain who left you limping. It is not spoken, but it is known—like the steady thrum beneath Gotham’s streets. Like the warmth in the gloves he leaves you before a snowstorm.

He is a man who wears grief like a second skin and still—still—teaches others how to survive it. That, perhaps, is his most intimate offering.

But sometimes the silence he trusts falters. His hand will linger too long on your shoulder. He’ll ask a question with more softness than precision. And in that moment, you are not just a soldier under his command, but someone who frightens him—because you matter. Because you could be lost, too. And he could not bear it.

For Bruce, love is not red roses or soft mornings—it is the constant readiness to shield you from a world he long ago stopped believing could be kind.

Yes, you’ll sometimes hear “I love you” from his lips. You’ll feel it in the way he drapes a blanket over your shoulders at 3AM, after you’ve fallen asleep at the console—no sound, no comment, just the quiet choreography of someone who remembers what it means to be cold and alone.

Dick Grayson — Physical Touch

Where Bruce is structure, Dick is soul. And his soul speaks in touch.

Raised in the spotlight of the Flying Graysons, his first language was the grasp of a hand mid-air, the trust-fall embrace between trapeze and skin. He was taught to reach, to catch, to cling—not just as a performance, but as a promise: I will not let you fall. That promise never left him.

Dick is the kind of person who will brush your arm when he passes by, lean his head on your shoulder just because, give the longest hugs and never pull away first. He’s that rare kind of warm who makes you forget cold ever existed. For him, physical closeness is grounding. He’s lived through enough loss to know how fast everything can be taken away—and so, when he loves you, he stays close. Literally. Always an arm around your back. Always the warmth of his hand over yours.

When you're hurting, he doesn't always know what to say—but he knows how to be there. He’ll sit with you on the floor, cross-legged, your knee touching his, until the words come. Or don’t. That’s fine too. He’s not there for the conversation. He’s there for you.

Dick loves like a campfire—glowing, open, steady. He lets you sit beside his warmth until you can feel your fingers again.

Jason Todd — Words of Affirmation

Jason loves like he’s running out of time.

He came into the world loud—gritty, rough-edged, smart-mouthed. But underneath that exterior was always a boy who wanted to be seen, heard, valued. When he first became Robin, Bruce gave him a purpose—but he also gave him silence. And when Jason died, when he came back to a world that barely whispered his name, something inside him shattered. He decided he’d never again sit in silence and wait for love to show itself. If it mattered, it had to be said. Out loud.

So now, Jason speaks with fire. With honesty. With vulnerability that burns in the back of his throat but comes out anyway. He tells you when you impress him. He tells you when you scare him. He tells you that you mean something, because he's not sure you’ll believe it unless you hear it. Over and over.

But more than that, he needs to hear it too. He needs someone to look at him and not see a mistake, or a weapon, or a ghost. He needs someone to say, I’m glad you came back. To remind him he’s not just the aftermath of tragedy, but someone who can still be loved and chosen, now.

He doesn’t want compliments. He wants truth. He wants raw, cracked-open honesty. When he loves you, he’ll write it into the way he talks to you. He’ll defend your name in rooms you’re not in. He’ll remember every little thing you say and bring it up a month later to prove he was listening.

Jason doesn’t say I love you casually. But when he does? It sounds like a promise. And it is.

Duke Thomas — Quality Time

Duke Thomas loves like a summer shadow—wide, warm, stretching long across the pavement beside you. Never ahead, never behind. Always beside.

His world cracked early, its colors blurred by the slow unraveling of his parents’ minds. And still—he reached toward the light. Still, he chose tenderness. There is something miraculous in that. Not naive. Brave.

Time is his love language because it was the first thing taken from him. He gives it now as offering, as resistance, as prayer. When you speak, he listens with the weight of someone cataloging galaxies. When he laughs, he laughs with his whole body—shoulders, chest, throat—as if joy is something sacred that must be honored, not hoarded.

He remembers your grandmother’s name. The stupid inside joke you made three months ago. The song you skipped, and the look in your eyes when you did it. And he never brings these things up to impress you. He remembers because you said them, and to Duke, what you say is part of who you are. And who you are is already worth remembering.

Love with Duke is not loud, not possessive. It is presence. It is walking to the edge of the rooftop and sitting beside you for an hour, saying nothing, letting the silence build a shelter. It is the beat before a battle where he catches your eye and nods—not a command, not a question. Just: I’m here.

He will never love halfway. He cannot. Even when the world turns brutal, he offers his whole self like a field of sunflowers that somehow blooms after the fire.

Time with him doesn’t feel like a countdown. It feels like breath returning. Like finally being seen not through a sniper’s scope, but through the steady gaze of someone who stays.

[weak-aesthetic]

Nightwing Vol. 1: Leaping Into the Light (2021)

[weak-aesthetic]

okay okay i can close some tabs i don't need this google image search of "pear trees"....well you never know actually

[weak-aesthetic]

18+ minors dni

dick! jason! bruce! triple-whammy so y’all forgive me for going AWOL xoxo

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

dick grayson fantasises about making you cum in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror over and over again. he wants to spread your legs apart while he holds your back against his chest, fucking you with his fingers as he whispers in your ear about how fucking pretty you look like this. the thought of you, all shy and flustered, clenching around his fingers as your nails dig into his arms, makes him smirk; he knows he’d have to tell you to keep your eyes on him—what’s the matter, baby? don’t get shy on me now.

“dick?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you point to the large mirror in front of you, and he blinks. “did you hear me? I asked if this mirror would look good in our room.”

jason todd fantasises about stripping you down and fucking you while he’s in his full red hood gear. he’s been surveilling a suspected drug den for hours, and all he can think of is the contrast of your soft, delicate skin against the rough material of his pants as he drills into you from behind. his breathing quickens under his mask as he imagines running his gloved hands over the curve of your hips, squeezing harshly as you whine at his cock splitting you in half.

he pictures himself pulling you back towards him, so you’re forced to look into the thin white eye-slits of his mask as he fucks into you harder, towering over you in all his armoured glory—until a bang from the building across the way snaps him back into the real world. he swears under his breath as he checks his ammunition again. someone’s gonna pay for that.

bruce wayne fantasises about fucking you in his seldom-used executive office in wayne tower. disinterested by the stacks of financial reports in front of him, he imagines you on his lap, your skirt bunched around your waist and your panties pulled to the side as you grind down on his hard cock. his eyes flutter shut at the thought of you biting back your moans and clinging to his shoulders, gasping when his lips find your neck, and the image is so vivid he swears he can almost smell your perfume.

he’s about to send you a be ready at 7 text when the phone on his desk rings, and he swears under his breath as he answers it harshly. mr. wayne? his receptionist murmurs. miss—I mean, your…um…friend is here. he sits up in his chair at her words, smiling to himself as he loosens his tie. “send her in.”

[weak-aesthetic]

Wink wink

[weak-aesthetic]

People declaring they’ve gotten over their Taylor Swift obsession and dramatically taking down their posters of her and stuff on TikTok because they “haven’t really been listening lately” is always so hilarious to me. When I don’t listen to Taylor for a while, I’ll have shuffle on one day and a Taylor Swift song will come on, and then I’ll genuinely have to pause whatever I’m doing to sit there with the song thinking holy shit WHAT a tune! Do you think she realizes what a banger she had on her hands here? And then I go back to living my life with Taylor Swift still in my heart. It has been like this since I was ten years old. We are not the same!

[weak-aesthetic]

Mutuals who I don't know very personally yet I am holding a sugarcube out in my hand in the hopes that you will approach me like the noble horse

[weak-aesthetic]

Keanu, how many Johns have you actually played?