Petition to let the zombie apocalypse kill:
1. People with peanut allergies
2. Cishet men with j names
3. People who Stan Ian Wayne
Petition to let the zombie apocalypse kill:
1. People with peanut allergies
2. Cishet men with j names
3. People who Stan Ian Wayne
I was extremely bored and fit Batfam and DCU characters into Disney Movies.
Started with which one fits the characters best, one for each, but it got out of hand.
I would love to write these, I might later expand on my AO3 account, but for now, these are the head cannons.
Beauty and The Beast - Familial JaySteph, Pre-Romantic TimSteph
Being a DC comics fan is having to think "at least the art is pretty".
its about this. bruce teaches all of his children to drive.
Or maybe it's about-
Dick Grayson see his first dead body when he is eight. He sees hundreds more within the year.
Alfred had planned Jason's funeral. He'd broken down horribly, sitting in the funeral director's home office, and she had solemnly waited for him to compose himself and then escorted him to the car.
Or sometimes things would-
Tim Drake meets Kate Kane for the first time at a gala, and something about her demeanor had his attention. Her bright red hair was shaved underneath (it was a boy haircut) and she'd worn a suit instead of a dress (she had cufflinks).
It's like this-
Duke had a Robin insignia stitched onto his under armour, hidden away underneath the yellow breastplate.
It's about how-
Cass padded into the kitchen, rubbing at her eyes, one of the last occupants of the house to wake up that afternoon. When she walked into the kitchen, Damian sat at a barstool pulled up to the island, and Cass walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his.
News reporter: Sir, why do you consider yourself an Anti-hero?
Red hood: Well, it's clearly because I'm heroic enough to eat ass, yet villainous enough to eat pussy
Reporter, not expecting that answer for national tv: Well... I guess you heard it here first folks.
Bruce, watching this: What the fuck Jason
Damian, not looking up from his book: What did you expect, it's Todd.
Dick, sighing: Why must he be this way. This is why we have to keep him away from the paparazzi
This was submitted to me by: @tryxter-in-the-pantry via messaging. Thanks for sharing!! 💜
@damianwayneweek day 3: That Wasn't Supposed to Happen
I'm playing a little loose with the prompt since the thing that wasn't supposed to happen takes place before the fic starts but you know what? Sometimes you just want to write a few pages of Damian reacting to a bad patrol instead of experiencing it (and also experiencing more bad patrol).
After what Damian would consider a fairly disastrous start to patrol, Spoiler takes over and helps him work out some of the stress and frustration he's still feeling.
Damian kicked his feet out, letting the heels of his boots hit against the brick behind them. He shifted a bit, so he was leaning back on his palms. Below him, the city sparkled on a rare clear night. The city looked bright, glittering almost like Bludhaven did after the rain.
His thoughts were not as carefree or bright. Damian focused on his breathing, attempting to still his heart as it continued to race, even well after the anti-toxin had kicked in. He kept his eyes on the buildings, on shadows moving behind curtains, and an owl that fluttered by. It was much better than closing his eyes.
Closing his eyes meant being back in that warehouse. It meant not knowing the difference between truth or fiction. If the hands on him were friend or foe. It meant worrying--thinking-- believing he’d gotten his family killed.
Sharp pain raced up both wrists and he hissed, pulling forward to lift the weight off them. Careful, Damian tugged at his gloves and pulled them off to examine the skin underneath. His wrists were ringed with red, bruised, with slightly raised lines here and there. Left over from the ropes he’d been tied with for the better part of the night.
“Tt.” he turned his hand over, displeased that he’d come away so affected, in mind and body.
“I’ve got some cream for that.” Stepahnie’s voice preceded her by a moment as Spoiler dropped to the ledge beside him.
A purple glove held out a small bottle to Damian which he took, and eyed. It was what she’d said, bruise cream, the container about half empty, but with plenty left for Damian to use.
“You keep this on hand?”
She shrugged, “You never know when you’ll need it, for us or civilians.”
He hummed, and popped open the top, a light citrusy scent tickled his nose. Stephanie waited while he applied the cream to one wrist, then the other. It made things feel better almost immediately, if only because it felt cool and soothing.
“Thank you.” he said, capping it and handing it back over.
Stephanie ruffled his hair, “No problem.”
Damian scowled and leaned away from her hand, but she followed him, truly messing up his carefully styled hair. Well, it had been carefully styled before they’d left for patrol. He had no idea how it looked after being nabbed by Crane and dangled as bait for the rest of his family. His hair hadn’t been at the top of his priorities for the past few hours.
“Where are the others?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone casual.
“Batman’s wrapping up with Crane. Hood’s already left to finish his route. And Nightwing’s back at the cave resting, and has been for a while. The others are where they’ve been all night.” She mimed dancing and drinking tea, “At the gala we got lucky enough to miss.”
Damian’s heart twinged at Nightwing. He wanted to ask further about Richard, but Stephanie’s tone seemed to indicate he was fine. Still, tone was not enough to still the worry in his stomach. The last he’d seen of Richard was the man sitting up, bleary eyed, with blood trailing down his forehead. And then Damian had been dragged too far away to see him at all.
“Is he--” the words slipped out before Damian could stop himself.
“Wing’s fine, Robin.” Stephanie’s voice softened, “I found him after you disappeared, and he’s been home since under A’s careful eye. Argued up a storm over not being allowed to come help find you, but eventually B talked him down.”
Damian nodded, injured Richard would have only been a further liability in the field. Damian had already made himself enough of one by being captured, Father would not have wanted any more sons in danger.
“And are you here to return me home?”
“Do you want to go home?”
He shook his head.
“Then I say we continue to patrol. Bruce isn’t the boss of us.” She stood, and reached a hand down to Damian, “Come on, grab those gloves, we’ve got stuff to do.”
Damian let a smile slip across his face, the first all night, “Excellent.”
Stephanie took point on their route, and Damian was happy to let her. He wanted action, and movement, and whatever they could do to help shake the fear still lingering over him.
They started by stopping a mugging.
Together, Spoiler and Robin dropped down behind the two men, and broke them up. Damian distracted one, dancing around him to force him to move away from the woman they’d been terrorizing.
Behind the guy, Damian watched as Spoiler kicked over the other man, and he stayed down. Damian ducked a wild swing from his own opponent, and threw a punch at the man’s open side. It landed and sent the guy stumbling backwards.
Damian let his attention slide back over to where Spoiler was. She was leading the terrified woman away from danger. Good, that’d give Damian room to really move if he needed to.
He traded blows with his opponent, before leveraging himself off one of the nearby buildings to slam his feet into the man’s chest and take him down. Damian zip tied him, and stood, turning back to search for Spoiler and the woman again.
Instead he found himself face to face with the other thug. The man loomed over him, and Damian froze. Fear raced through his chest in a sharp wave. He was back where he’d been earlier that night, surrounded by green gas he couldn’t stop breathing in and facing down an enemy too big for him to deal with while Nightwing was hurt, on the floor behind him.
Damian knew what was going to happen next. He’d try to lure the man away only to be knocked out by a lucky swing from the guy’s bat. Then he’d be caught. Dragged away from his family. Trapped. He’d--
Purple flashed across his vision as Spoiler jumped in with a high kick that cracked the man’s jaw so hard Damian heard it clearly. The sound snapped him out of his haze and he lurched back into action. Together, they took the guy down in seconds.
When they were done, Brown eyed him but didn’t comment beyond, “I’ll call it in, let’s keep moving.”
While Spoiler’s voice rattled off the crime and location over the comms to the GCPD Damian mentally worked out how to get them back on their regular route.
They patrolled for another ten minutes, swinging from building to building and occasionally stopping to sweep a street. Worried meows of a cat caught Damian’s ears. He froze, then scanned the street.
It was a residential one, lined with apartments and old trees that climbed close to buildings. After a moment a high, young, voice followed one of the cat’s noises.
“Chance, please get down, boy. I can’t climb up there!”
Damian and Stephanie exchanged looks, then together they moved in the direction of the noises. It was obvious after a moment that Chance, a tabby, was stuck not in a tree, but on a jutting portion of roof overlooking a child’s bedroom window.
The voice belonged to a little girl, with braided pigtails and Wonder Woman themed pajamas. She was leaning precariously out of her window and waving frantically at the cat. At the sound of vigilantes landing on a nearby tree, her attention shifted, and blue eyes widened at them.
Stephanie winced and muttered, “Spoiler, but close.”
She elbowed Damian indicating he should be the one to rescue the cat. He rolled his eyes behind his domino.
“Don’t worry.” Damian said to the girl, “I’ll get Chance down for you.”
Somehow her eyes went even wider, as if she couldn’t imagine how he might know the cat’s name, despite having yelled it out moments before.
Careful, Damian climbed from the tree to the building’s roof. Then he made his way across shingles to the cat, terrified and clinging to its spot on the roof.
“Here boy,” Damian murmured, slipping a treat from one of his utility belt pouches (Father had once told him that animal treats were a waste of a good space, if only he could see their usefulness now), holding it out to the frightened cat.
Well, Chance seemed to be still a kitten. A growing one, but he had not reached full adulthood yet, which was probably why he was so hesitant to jump the easy distance into the girl's arms.
Damian waited patiently for the scent of food to overcome the kitten’s fear, and when it was distracted enough, he scooped the creature into his arms, and let it have the treat.
He hooked his grapple to the roof and lowered himself carefully down to the window. The girl eagerly reached for her kitten, and Damian made sure she had a secure hold on the creature before fully releasing it.
“I would suggest against opening the window late at night, even a little bit, Chance is still small enough to wiggle through and get stuck again.” he said.
She gave him a serious nod, and then, “Thank you, Robin! And thank Batgirl too, you’re both so cool.”
Damian smiled at her, “Have a good night, you and Chance.”
He pulled himself back up to the roof and then rejoined Spoiler in her tree. The two waved at the girl, and jumped back into patrol.
After that they stopped to help a woman unloading groceries from a late night shopping trip, walked an inebriated young man home, and shooed off teens eager to graffiti a food truck. They were all easy tasks, and somehow they never turned to another mugging or robbery. Damian did not realize that until he was standing beside Spoiler as she helped change a flat tire with the surety of a pro.
“Spoiler,” Damian said, after the car was on its way back down the road, “Are we going to stop any more crime tonight, or act as errand boys for Gotham’s late night citizens?”
“Errand boys and girls.” Stephanie corrected, “And we’ll stop crime if we see it. O hasn’t phoned anything in where we’re at yet, and it’s good to be helpful. We’re preventing crime, rather than stopping it.”
It was a smooth, practiced answer. Like she’d heard it before when questioning Batman or Timothy on a previous patrol. Damian let it slide for the moment, intent on keeping a careful eye out for other crimes.
His hesitance earlier would not be repeated, he would make sure of that. He would prove that he was fine. That the shaky feeling in his chest when he breathed was exertion, not lingering fear or embarrassment over his earlier predicament.
Only, they continued with the easy tasks. They waited with another Gothamite who’s car had overheated, until the tow arrived. Then they found a box of puppies and took them to a local shelter Damian recommended.
Finally Oracle called in an alarm going off at a convenience store nearby where they were patrolling. Damian moved instantly towards it, unwilling to let Spoiler pull him back again.
She didn’t say anything, only fell in beside him as they made their way over to the store. When they arrived, four men were exiting the building in a hurry. One of them carried a register they’d grabbed, two of the others had a huge burlap sack carried between them, and a third carried a smaller one heavy with whatever they’d taken from inside the store.
Damian swung down, a wrecking ball of force and frustration. His feet slammed into the chest of one of the men carrying sacks. The man went flying, the contents of the bag scattering across the concrete around him as he landed.
Before the other three could really figure out what was going on, Damian had turned away from the thief he’d taken out, and was already throwing a batarang at the guy carrying the register. It caught his hand and he yelped, dropping the register with a crash.
By that point, Spoiler jumped into the fray, her cape flowing out in a huge swoop meant to blind the men still on their feet.
Damian turned back to the guy who’d dropped the register and threw himself at him. The element of surprise had faded at this point and the men were rallying, but Damian was trained well, no matter what his failure earlier that night had pointed to.
He swept the man’s feet out from under him in an arc, then came down on his stomach with his elbow.
As Damian stood, someone grabbed him from behind, and hauled him up. Damian scrambled, and grabbed at the hand but whoever had him didn’t seem to care about the way Damian’s fingers scratched at him. Before he knew it, Damian was tumbling backwards, thrown down not into the ground like he’d expected, but into something soft that caught him just before the hard concrete.
One of the bags the men had been using to steal from the shop closed around him and Damian felt his heart speed up. He tried to shove himself up, darkness closing over him as whoever had grabbed him tightened the strings on the large sack. But his hands couldn’t get purchase on the bag. It was taught with his weight, meaning there wasn’t a good area to grab at.
He kicked and shoved, his brain whiting out as the idea that he was trapped closed over him. No. Not again . This couldn’t be happening again. He couldn’t have failed a third time tonight he--He couldn’t breathe.
And then the bag swung. Damian’s stomach lurched, with the movement. He braced himself as best as he could, curling tight to protect himself before the bag slammed into the ground. The impact broke his curl as his knees and elbows cracked into the hard ground and he gasped with the pain of it all.
The only good thing he could take about the jarring action was that it had shaken him from his stupor. Body aching, he dug a batarang out and sliced the bag open. He tumbled out as the man lifted the sack again for a second attack.
Damian rolled over to push himself back to his feet. His arms were shaking, his chest tight. Something curled in his chest that felt vaguely like unshed tears. Damian couldn’t quite name the emotions tossing themselves around his head like he’d been tossed helplessly in that bag, but none of them were good or a call to get up and fight.
Behind him, he heard Spoiler grunt, followed by the smack of weapon against skin, and a thud. Then, for the second time that night, Damian found a purple gloved hand reaching out for him.
“Need a hand?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, but took her hand and let her help him to his feet. His head swam slightly, but otherwise he was fine.
“Thanks.” he murmured.
“No problem.” She said, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go.
Damian busied himself tugging the unconscious men towards each other and tying them up, while Spoiler made their second call of the evening.
“If you’re ready, I’ve got our next location locked in.” Stephanie said, as Damian stood.
He wasn’t. He was pretty sure the only thing he was ready for was bed. To curl up, safe and sound, with his face pressed into Titus’s flank thoughts of failure long gone in the comfort of home. Instead of admitting that, Damian nodded. He was Robin, and he’d be as useful as possible as long as their patrol lasted. Even if he seemed to keep freezing up. At some point he’d get over it. He always had during training back in the League, eventually he got over his fear. This was no different than that. He just had to keep pushing.
Spoiler led them both to a playground. It was known for late night drug deals between some of Gotham High’s more affluent teens.
The playground was large. It had a swing set with six swings, a couple seesaws, those little animals on springs, and a sand pit. To top it all off it had a huge sprawling play place in the center. Tire swings hung off it, monkey bars and rope bridges connected portions of it. Three slides of various types came off it in different areas. It even had a little rock wall for enterprising kids to use instead of the other stairs to climb up.
“What are we doing here?” Damian asked, looking around.
“Acting as deterrents. Oracle said she’d heard some chatter about a meet up tonight. I figured two vigilantes camped out should be enough to make any wayward teens think twice.”
Damian nodded, relieved that they wouldn’t be moving directly back into action. Mentally he berated himself for that, if he were to get over the night’s failure he needed to be more proactive, not less.
Damian followed Stephanie to a spot on the play place where they could look out onto the park. Stephanie leaned up against one of the walls and Damian kicked his legs over the edge eyes scanning the park.
“So.” Stephanie said, “Ready to talk about it?”
“Tt.” Damian pulled his legs up and towards his chest.
She had given him long enough to calm down a little from the night’s events, and while he was still shaky, the effects of the toxin had at least seemed to fade a bit.
“It was--unpleasant.” he admitted.
He pressed his eyes closed, remembering. On a good day it was not fun to be captured and held as bait. They had an in-joke about how Robin held the honorary title of boy hostage, but in truth none of them enjoyed that role. Robin’s duty was to protect Batman, and being held against him was the exact opposite of that.
But Damian had been held hostage, and used against his family.
He’d been taken on what should have been a routine investigation of a shady warehouse. He, Nightwing, and Spoiler were just supposed to look. Instead, once the three had split up, Crane had attacked. Damian made it to Richard before anything too terrible happened to his brother, but he hadn’t been prepared for the toxin, hadn’t been prepared for the number of goons.
It was pure luck that Crane had only taken him. Though, Damian now assumed that to be Spoiler’s doing, showing up before both Nightwing and Robin could be taken. As the lightest, of course they’d grabbed Robin.
“I--” he started, and shook his head.
Stephanie knew what it was like to be taken. What it was like to be under the effects of Crane’s toxin. He did not have to explain how he’d struggled to escape or the panic that had laced his chest when his family had arrived to rescue him and he’d watched as they fought, were cut down, continued to fight, and were cut down again. His worst fear of them dying because of him playing out on a loop until Father managed to administer the anti-toxin.
Stephanie laid a hand on his shoulder, “It’s never fun to be taken by someone you’re trying to stop, and even worse when they hurt you because of it.”
He squeezed his arms around his legs, old feelings of embarrassment at being so vulnerable tried to claw their way out of him. And another feeling rising up, protectiveness over them, guilt over being why they’d been in danger.
He shook his head again, “I do not care that he hurt me. I put the family in danger. Father, you, Todd. Richard.” he admitted, “You were led into a trap because I was too weak to defend Nightwing. Too slow to catch onto the toxin in the room. I failed, and you all could have died because of it.”
He trained his eyes on the swing set, unwilling to meet his sister’s gaze. He was being far too open with his emotions, but--the talking helped. Stephanie and Richard had drilled that into his head.
Talking. Trusting. Letting himself fall so they could catch him.
But? Should he if it put them in danger? Tonight seemed to blow a wide hole in all those promises. Richard was home, injured, and all because he’d trusted Damian. Stephanie had saved Damian three times this night alone because of his own inability to be better. How many falls were too many?
“First of all, you didn’t fail. No more than any of us did when Scarecrow made his first attack. We were all caught off guard. You were just a little more unlucky than we were.”
“It was Nightwing they attacked.”
Stephanie leaned over, so her face was in Damian’s field of vision, hair hanging over a shoulder, “You protected him. Got him a mask, and kept them from taking him instead. I’d say he was pretty lucky to have a little guardian Robin looking out for him.”
She poked him in the arm, “Don’t tt at me, you know it’s true. Would you rather Nightwing not have had you there?”
“Never!” Damian spun on her, and Stephanie grinned with victory. She’d tricked him into looking her way.
“There we go, now we can have a proper conversation.”
“We were talking.” he huffed, but maintained eye contact.
Stephanie reached out and cupped his cheek, “You were the one we were worried about. Did you forget that we want to protect you just as much as you want to keep us safe?” She brushed a finger across his cheek, and he felt the spark of pain where a goon had hit him to wake him up.
“You matter.” she said, reading his mind, “Your health and safety is as important as the rest of ours. It’s okay to be rescued from time to time.”
He huffed, “I know. But knowing does not help the frustration. I am supposed to be better. Be worthy of Robin and able to protect you all. Instead I was--I was-- helpless.” Just saying the word brought heat to his eyes, tears pricking at him, begging for release.
Stephanie tugged him close, into a hug, “It’s okay.” she said, a hand in his hair, “It’s hard, I know, but you’re allowed to be vulnerable, Dames.”
He sniffed, blinking back tears, “No names, Spoiler.”
She scoffed, squeezing him a bit tighter, “There’s no one out here to hear.”
Damian huffed, but did not pull away from the embrace. It was nice, resting like this and letting Stephanie play with his hair. It made the tight feeling in his chest ease. Knowing she was fine, that he was fine, that things would be fine.
After a moment he pulled away, running a hand under his nose. Stephanie let him, and they settled back apart, both at the edge now. They were quiet for a while after that, the minutes ticking by in peace.
Then, they saw a car pull up into the lot at the far end of the park. A figure climbed out of it, and started making their way towards the park. They hadn’t seemed to realize that Robin and Spoiler were the one’s camped out in the park yet, and actually raised a hand to wave.
Stephanie winked at Damian and raised her own hand in response.
“Let’s see how long it takes him to realize who we are.” she whispered.
Damian smiled, and chuckled lightly.
The young man pulled out a phone and started messing with it, typing something into the screen as he moved forward. He made it almost all the way to Damian and Stephanie before he looked up. When he did he froze, staring at them, mouth agape.
Stephanie waved again, “Hi. What’s a good kid like you doing in a park like this so late?”
“I--” he said, and Damian thought he looked a bit like a catfish, blinking and startled, “Nothing.”
“Well, Mr. Nothing, I suggest if you don’t have any important reason for being here, you head home.” Stephanie said.
Damian gave him one of his most unsettling smiles, sharp and toothy, “Yes, this park isn’t safe after dark, and we wouldn’t want you getting hurt or into trouble.”
He looked between Spoiler and Robin and seemed to decide that whatever deal he’d had planned for the night was not worth bothering two vigilantes over. With a sharp nod and a “yes, yeah, good idea.” he scurried off, half running half tripping his way back to his car.
“Drive safe!” Stephanie called.
After he was gone, Stephanie broke into a fit of giggles and Damian followed soon after, her laughter infectious.
“Alright.” she said, after a minute, “Let’s go get something ridiculously greasy and terrible for us, as a reward for a deed well done. Then after I say we head home. ”
She stood and held out a hand to Damian, “Unless you’d rather do ice cream?”
He took it and let her pull him to his feet, “Fast food sounds perfect, lead the way Spoiler.”
does anyone have any recommendations for a batfam or similarly themed discord server?
i feel like it would be fun to talk about comics/fics/whatevers with other people because there is only so much my irl friends can handle lol
It's weird watching Bernard become the new Colin in real time. I can't wait to see the riot later when DC acts like he never existed.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ‘𝟐𝟏 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 🍯 ✨💛
𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 || 𝙠𝙤𝙛𝙞
His skin smells pleasantly of kiddies sunscreen and eucalyptus laced bug repellant. The sky above is free of clouds, bright blue in brillant paint strokes. You long to surge across the beach mat and kiss him thoroughly but the presence of a gaggle of kids nearby hinders you.
“Behave,” he says, catching your eye.
He’s wearing a grin so dazzling it would surely be mistaken for a star. You’re so captivated by him, so caught up in the pull of his charms, you can’t deny the way he sees right into the depths of your soul.
“Race you to the shore. Winner gets a kiss.”
“I told you getting a hammock was a great idea.”
“I haven’t even sat it in yet. Let me at least try it out first.”
“I’m telling you.”
“You sound like a dad.”
“Well, you do like dilfs.”
Initially, you totally expected to add a hammock to the list of useless things purchased by Jason but in actuality, it was pretty cool. He sets it up on the little balcony, shaded from the summer sun’s unforgiving rays but still far out enough to enjoy the crisp breeze.
He gets in before you, leaning a leg out to keep you both steady as you climb in. It takes only a few seconds for you to get comfortable enough to come to the realization that your boyfriend is a genius. Within twenty minutes, you’re both napping soundly, pictures of peace.
You’ll give it to him once. Getting a hammock was a great idea.
The Kent farm stiffles under the summer heat. The wheat fields and peach trees sway and simmer under the sun’s rays and the sweet breeze floods in on cicada wings. A summer storm brews slowly in the distance, the sun hidden behind low hanging grey clouds.
You can feel the power it holds in your bones. Or perhaps, that’s the electric thrill that comes with being held close by Tim. He’d commandeered you both into a rocking chair shortly after lunch and pulled you into his lap shamelessly.
“We’re going to get scolded for running away from the chores, bestie.”
Tim groans, his forehead sticky with cooling sweat rests at the nape of your neck. “Don’t call me bestie when you literally on my—”
“Don’t finish that sentence bestie.”
“I hate you.”
“Who instigates sweaty cuddles with someone they hate?”
“Me.” He bites at your bare skin. “Keep your enemies close and all.”
He makes you a playlist on the first day of summer.
It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you and you’re so touched by the gesture that you can barely express your love for him in coherent words. The playlist itself is a grand little thing, chock full of love songs from every genre you like. It feels like a pandora’s box of sorts, with a neat little selfie of the both of you as the cover art.
Your heart warms each time you look down at your phone and see your smiling faces looking up from the little widget.
He makes you a playlist at the beginning of summer and you can’t help but hope for all your summers to be full of his melody.
Summer rain kisses your skin with the familiarity of a lover. His hands are slick but steady on your shoulders and you have to double your efforts to get away from him, laughing wildly as you do. Mud kicks up under quick feet. The squelching sound and the earthy smell of the wet grassy path fuels your veins with lightning.
In this moment you are both tied together by faith’s red string. The push and pull of your bodies against the forces of nature delves into the vein of divinity. Demi-gods and soulmates, young and infinite.
Damian giggles, laughter ringing out like bird song as he shoulders past you. “Catch me if you can.”
This is a v. Not SFW, 18+ blog, folks! Please DO NOT interact with any of my content if you’re underage!!
AO3 Version || 12 Days Masterlist || Masterlists || Main Blog || Ko-fi
❄ Damian Wayne ❄ || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 🌟 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 ||
❄ Jason Peter Todd ❄ || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 ||
❄ Richard John Grayson ❄ || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9|| 10 || 11 || 12 ||
❄ Timothy Jackson Drake ❄ || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 ||
His father always told him to never be the one to start a fight, but always be the one to finish it.
Once again I find myself apologizing for the wait, but a bitch been tired lol. It also doesn’t help matters that I’ve got a terrible case of Dabi (as well as several other MHA characters) brainrot, and that’s where what little energy I have has been going. But today I finally got it in me to finish these up so here we are. Hopefully it was worth the wait…
Spoiler: It probably wasn’t, tbh lmao.
|| Damian Wayne
Headcanon || WC: 1.3k~
🎄 As we all well know, this man is not given to doing things by half measures, so naturally baking’s no exception.
🎄 Like Jay he is an excellent cook all the way around, although he won’t lie—he’d much rather pay someone else to cook his meals.
🌟 Cooking is fine at all—can even be fun and-or relaxing if he’s in the right mood—but there are only so many hours in the day. Eating is obviously a necessity, but the preparation of meals is one of the few things he doesn’t mind entrusting (thoroughly vetted) professionals to tend to. He’d much rather spend what little free time he has with you.
🌟 Now if you wanted to cook with him, well he certainly wouldn’t be opposed. Domestic ish like that is his silent jam.
🎁 He honestly thinks that you (and the rest of his family/close friends) don’t know just how much he loves domesticity—or maybe he does know and is content for you all to live in the illusion lol. Yeah, knowing him that second one is probably closer to the truth.
🌟 He loves to get in the kitchen with you, and though we know he’s p. much hardwired to take the lead on most things, this is a task that he’s more than willing to share a bit more equally.
🎁 Ofc if you want to leave the lion’s share of the work to him he’s cool with that too. In all honesty he doesn’t care how things are divvied up; it’s not the ‘how’ that he’s interested in, but rather the ‘who’ and the ‘what’ (i.e. you and the time that you’re spending together).
🎁 Some days this sees one of you being the other’s sous chef, other times you’re both making separate dishes that’ll eventually come together to make a meal, and others still you’re just hanging back and watching the other work. Again, it’s your company that he’s really after—everything else is just details.
🌟 He also really likes to surprise you with homemade meals from time to time.
🎁 Your schedules don’t always allow for you to share meals as often as either of you would like, unfortunately. Besides having a personal chef on call (#richboytingz, amirite lol), you have standing reservations at p. much every restaurant in the city, and ofc takeout is always a thing; but even with all those options nothing comes close to having a meal prepared by a loved one.
🎁 The thought, care, and time that goes into the crafting of a dish… it all just hits different, ya know? He knows how he feels whenever you make something for him, even if it’s just a mug of tea, and he wants to bestow those same feelings of love and immense cherishment onto you as well.
🎁 So yeah, expect to get a nice home cooked meal at least a few times a month—more than that if he can feasibly swing it.
🎄 But this is all only tangentially related to the theme of the HC so let’s move on!
🎄 Baking with Damian is actually a surprisingly chill endeavor. Aside from wanting to use scales, metric measurements (which honestly is the only system of measurements he recognizes as valid in general lol), and cookie scoops he isn’t too fussed about things.
🌟 I think part of this is due to the fact that he’s so naturally precise with everything he does; it’s all second nature to him, so he’s not so anal about things. There are only so many ways to make a cookie, after all, so as long as you’re following the recipe everything should be fine, ya know?
🌟 The abovementioned facts mixed with his artistic abilities means that you get picture perfect creations every time—at least as far as the cookies he personally makes goes lol.
🌟 If you’re like me and have less than steady hands and-or no artistic abilities of your own don’t worry! He’s not here to judge, and even if he were these cookies were made by you, his most beloved partner, which makes them beautiful by default in his not-so-humble opinion. Yes, he does make the rules, and no, he will not be taking questions (and certainly not criticism) at this time, or ever.
🌟 If you want pointers on decorating he’ll give them to you, naturally (Decorating Bootcamp 3: Oh Hell No!*), but if you want to keep things chill that’s totally fine too. So long as you’re enjoying yourself he’s down for whatever.
🎄 As far as preferences go…
🌟 He’s not a big fan of a lot of the traditional holiday flavor profiles so anything with mint or a copious amount of sugar is a no-go for him eating-wise. He’s more of a spice person like Jay so snickerdoodles are a go-to year round honestly.
🎁 He loathes the name tho—snickerdoodle. How absurd. He always feels like a fool whenever he has to order the damned things which is why he either leaves someone else to do his dirty work or just asks Alfie to make him some—and even then it’s via text lmao.
❄ Dames: Pennyworth, could you perhaps make me a batch of those cookies I like?
❄ Alfie: It would be no problem, Master Damian. But which cookies are you referring to?
❄ Dames: You know, the spiced ones. With the cinnamon and sugar coating.
❄ *Cue Alfred not responding and Dami getting more and more frustrated as he continues to describe the cookie in as much detail as possible until finally…*
❄ Dames: Snickerdoodles. I would like a batch of snickerdoodles.
❄ He legit dies inside a little bit every time he has to type/say the word lmao…
🌟 Anyways, he likes snickerdoodles and up until he tried a molasses cookie he would’ve said that they were his favorite of all time. He never would’ve thought that cloves would go well in a cookie, but here we are lol. The mix of the heavily spiced cookie and the crisp, yet chewy texture from the sugar coating is the perfect combination. He’ll also eat these year round, but the smell of them really does give him fall/winter vibes.
🎁 ((As an aside molasses cookies are THE SHIT. This is the recipe I use and they always come out great; plus you can make them as chewy or crispy as you want, just adjust the size of the ball and how much you flatten it. Pair it with a nice mug of Earl or Lady Grey or really any black or chai tea and you will ascend clean away from this plane, if only for a moment lol…))
🌟 As far as decorating he prefers to take something sturdy like a shortbread (a.k.a. one of the most boring cookies in the world—his words, not mine, I love those things) and basically turn it into a canvas.
🎁 He’ll flood the top with royal icing and let it harden so that he has a nice blank workspace, and then he’ll paint some of the most elaborate scenes you’ve ever seen in such a small space onto them with edible inks. It’s super impressive, but what’s even more impressive is when he makes his 3D creations.
🎁 The beginning process is the same, but instead of painting he’ll do a light sketch before layering on more and more icing until he’s made something that you can’t even believe is a gd cookie. It’s always too pretty to eat which is good because that much royal icing is hell on the teeth and the taste leaves a lot to be desired lol….
❄ ((Coming in again to drop a few links to some incredible cookie art. This is the type of shit I watch when I should be sleeping lol))
❄ Celebrating Black Women's Hairstyles by The Graceful Baker
❄ The Queen of Hearts/Heartslabyul Inspired Cookies by Yuyu’s Sugar Art
❄ Christmas Village Cookies by My little bakery
❄ pokemon macaron and royal icing “Alolan Vulpix” by WHIP SUGAR icingcookies
Beautiful (Finish What You Start)|| WC: 900~
You watch with rapt attention as Damian’s hand flows over the unconventional canvas. Firm, sure strokes follow along lines that exist only in his mind’s eye, his efforts a skeletal display, a setup for something yet more amazing than what is already there.
He moves on to making his icing next, adjusting measurements and colors before divvying it all up into various bags. It’s an involved and somewhat long process, but he doesn’t seem to notice or mind, and you’re much the same. Though it’d probably be a boring thing for anyone else to observe, you can’t help but to be enraptured by the tedious actions because it’s him.
It’s him and he’s happy—content in a way that you don’t get to see outside of your personal interactions nearly enough.
Though his eyes are focused, his face is soft, far softer than the usual assured, but ultimately indifferent mien that he chooses to project most of the time. Even his voice seems lighter as he explains to you why royal icing is the superior decorating medium when it comes to cookies.
“–also has a higher tensile strength. An odd attribute to discuss when talking about icing, I know, but it’s actually quite important when you’re looking at things through the lens of a decorator. The more stretch the icing has, the better control you have over its thickness. If you want thinner, more delicate line work then–”
“You’re beautiful like this, you know that?”
It’s a thought gone verbal without any cognizance on your part, but it’s just as well. He really is breathtaking when he’s wrapped up in something he loves, be it his work as a Robin or his artistic endeavors, though you have to admit that there’s something especially striking about him in this exact moment. Maybe it’s the way his smile comes so readily or the gentleness in his eyes. Or could it be the way his hands—so large and scarred and strong, so damn strong, and capable of so damn much—soften themselves into something delicate enough to cradle porcelain?
It’s all of this, you’re sure, and a million other little things that only you are allowed to witness. You hold these moments close to your heart, guarding them like the precious and rare treasures that they are.
For his part, the beautiful boy before you stalls harder than a malfunctioning engine. In this moment he is the embodiment of the age old phrase concerning deer and headlights. Just like a prey creature he’s gone stock still with the only movement coming in the form of his pretty green eyes—blown almost comically wide—blinking owlishly at you. Though his mouth is still parted around whatever it was he was about to say, no sound is coming out, and likewise his hands have frozen mid-motion on the bowl he’d been tending to. To top it all off his cheeks have darken with a blush that can just be seen through the dusk of his skin.
Beautiful. So very, very beautiful…
Even flustered as he is, he’s just as captivating as ever—maybe even more so for the rarity of it. It’s not often that you’re able to fluster him so, and you find yourself reveling in this small victory. Playful digits travel along the strong line of his jaw until they’re tucked under his chin; you make a quip about catching flies as you urge his mouth to close with a curl of your fingers.
In typical Damian fashion he recovers swiftly and so fully that the tables are turned faster than you can ever hope to perceive it, let alone react. Before you even have time to process the change, your hand is being captured and your body bracketed in between his heavily muscled frame and the counter. His free arm secures itself around your middle to pull you in close—so close that you can feel his heartbeat, so close that your breaths become a shared thing taken in tandem.
“You think me beautiful, beloved?” The question is murmured against the curve of your ear at a volume meant solely for you.
Having absolutely no trust in your voice at this point, you give a shaky nod. He chuckles at this—a deep, rolling sound that you feel all the way down to the soles of your feet—before pulling back just enough to see you in full. You’re sure that your face is doing something wholly embarrassing, but you suppose that’s the point of all this. Turnabout is fair play, after all.
“Hmm, well that’s very kind of you to say, dear heart—I appreciate it, truly,” he tells you between a cascading of sweet, little kisses. He sprinkles them over the whole of your face before finally, finally settling on your lips. This kiss is deep and lingering, one that leaves you gasping for air even as you vow to forsake breathing forever if it means he’ll never stop–
But he does stop, much to your dismay and his amusement. Damian takes in your pout through impish eyes, telling you that he has to get back to work before his icing dries out–
“But worry not, beloved, I won’t leave you unattended for long. Give me, say… half an hour– Now, now,” he tuts when you cling to him with a whine, “none of that. You’re the one that started all of this, after all, but rest assured that I’ll be the one to finish it.”
He gives you one last parting kiss before releasing you altogether, leaving you to reevaluate your decisions on shaky legs. You’ve brought this on yourself, you know, but you aren’t even mad. And how can you be with such a delicious promise looming on the horizon?
The Bat who Laughs and an groblin <3 I love the bruce the same way one loves venom I might need help
Last Updated: 6/9/21
All fics are Tim Drake x Reader unless otherwise stated
Includes: Nightmare, Tomcat, & TBA
Bite (Vampire! Reader)
Unspoken Rivalry (Kon El x reader x Tim)
Dick Grayson’s Love Language
Jason Todd’s Love Language
Jason with an Asexual s/o
Tim’s [NSFW] Headcanons
Tim’s SFW Headcanons
Tim’s Love Language
Going to Disney World with Tim
Going to School with Tim
Tim with a s/o who has anxiety
The Types of Hugs Tim Gives
Tim with an Artist s/o
Five Senses with Tim (angst ver)
Five Senses with Tim (fluff ver)
Valentine’s Day with Tim
Damian Wayne’s Love Language
Ideal Dates with Damian
Damian and Titus
Comforting Damian and Comfort From Damian
The BatBoys as Fanfic Writers on Tumblr
Batboys as Wingmen
Batboys’ Method of Persuasion
Batboys Hogwarts Headcanons
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
i wonder when will the fandom admit that damian's entire character arc as robin is orientalist af. even rsob, as much as I love it, is guilty of it too to an extent.