reblogss

I reblog dcxdp stuff, 18+

[johnnyanger]

(id in alt)

goodnight, fab five 💫

[shrubdrawsalot]

making choices for yourself

based on my damian drop out propaganda and partially on Batman #10

[grakkie]

Duke appreciation, let him interact with his siblings more often dc 🙏

[gingertea116]

Missing his ex

[papayafromtv]

scenarios Alfred Pennyworth has to be a witness to as a resident of Wayne Manor that the batkids have absolutely no shame in front of whatsoever part 18 (masterpost here)

*Alfred coming into the garden with some potted flowers to plant under the sun, all of the boys lounging by the pool nearby*

Damian, sitting on the edge of the pool and dipping his feet in the water: you do do it a lot,

Jason, sunbathing on a sun lounger, sunglasses on: because it’s kinda easy for Tim, B, Dick and I. we’re like basic barbies with interchangeable outfits.

Duke, sat on an inflatable donut in the pool: s’ cause you all have the same kinda build—that brick shithouse energy.

Tim, working on a laptop at the garden table, underneath a parasol: apart from-

Duke: -well yeah, apart from you, but i feel like when you’re smaller than the person you’re trying to imitate then it’s easy because you just pad the suit.

Tim: yeah, that’s fair. i’ve passed myself off as Jay during JL stuff on multiple occasions, it’s not hard.

Jason: *humming in agreement* and the rest of us don’t have to pad at all—unless i’m being Nightwing. then-

Dick, on a lounger next to him, already holding up a hand: -shut up-

Jason, grinning: -then i have to pad my ass a little,

Dick: *smacks him*

Tim: *snickers*

Dick: to be fair, Damian is also a part of this. Tim is easily small enough to still pass as Robin, so he could take Damian's place if we needed.

Duke: *snort of disbelief* are you joking?

Jason, also laughing: yeah- yeah Dick? Tim is the palest motherfucker we have. he ain't passing as shit. he can't even pass as you, that's why i always do it and have him pretend to be me instead.

Tim: yeah- he's right, D. you gotta admit; i'm pasty as shit.

Duke: i honestly only think he could even pass as Jason because of his mask and helmet. like- you look oriental enough that you and B genuinely thought Lady Shiva was a potential match for birth mom.

Jason: that's fair. *wistful* man, i wish it had been her and not Sheila. could you fuckin' imagine if me and Cass were bio-related?

Dick, amused: the murder-twins of the Wayne family.

Jason, gesturing with his hands as if to present: the murder-twins of the Wayne family!

Tim: *snorting* regardless, i might be able to bullshit myself as Jason, but i reflect the sun off my skin enough that anybody who's ever seen Damian before would clock me as an impersonator from a mile away.

Damian: we would have to put so much fake tan on you that i think it would become problematic.

Duke: *cackles*

Dick, grinning: what if it was for a case? what if it was really important to a case, would it be problematic then?

Duke, pointing at Dick: good question. what if it was to save Damian's life?

Damian and Jason: *snickering*

Tim, incredulous: in what fucking universe is there a scenario that me dressing up in brownface would save Damian's life?!

Duke, composure cracking: i- *pause* ... ok i can't think of one off the top of my head-

Tim, indignant: RIGHT, SO-

Dick, visibly holding back laughter: no no no, we're just saying, in a hypothetical world where a scenario has occurred that means Damian's life is in danger, and the only way to save him is to dress up as Robin and pass as Damian, is it ethical?

Damian, completely solemn: *to Tim* would you do it to save me?

Tim: w- i don't- i don't know?!

Duke and Jason: *laughing*

Tim: i mean i guess i'd ask Damian. i'd be trying to pass as him so it's his opinion that matters, right?

Jason: *high-pitched weeping, covering his face with his hands* *muffled* so it's- so Damian has a gun to his head and you're just- on the phone or something with him like 'do you think it's racist if i save your life right now?'

Damian, also grinning: i'm dying and he's texting me just 'is this chill or nah?'

Duke: *wheezes*

Tim: well I DON'T FUCKIN' KNOW?!

Dick, trying to keep composure: i think it's- at least part of it has to come down to the intent and motivation behind it, right? like... nobody got mad at Robert Downey Jr.

Tim, pointing: that's a fair point. in this hypothetical scenario can i call up RDJ and make him save Damian's life?

Jason: *breathless wheezing*

Damian: *cackles*

Duke, also laughing: no- *wheeze* no, it has to be you.

Tim: well i don't- what am i even doing as Robin? do i just have to walk through a room of people that know Damian as Robin without getting clocked?

Damian: maybe you just have to sit through a JLA meeting without getting caught as not me.

Tim: in what universe-

Damian: -just answer, would you save me or not?

Tim, genuinely distressed: i don't feel like there's a good answer here for me?! like- ok, i feel like this would only involve Damian, so if Damian's ok with me putting on a shitton of fake tan to save his life, then i feel like that's the thing i should care about the most, right?

Duke: so you'd save him?

Tim, still distressed: i- probably?!?!? i don't know?!

Jason: *wheezes, leaning towards Dick* he's so scared,

Dick: *silently weeping*

Damian: we're making it too easy by making it only about me,

Tim, incredulous: HELLO?

Damian: i- *wheeze* *cough* no, ok; same scenario, but you don't need to pass yourself off as me to save my life, you have to pass yourself off as Signal.

Duke: ooooooh,

Dick: *falls off his chair* *starts slapping the ground*

Tim, distraught: i don't have an answer to this?!?! why would i have an answer to this?!

Duke, instantly: *eager* no you have to. you have to answer. would you or would you not try and pass yourself off as me in order to save Damian's life.

Damian, stern: now keep in mind, Drake. if you say yes, Thomas will never forgive you. if you say no, then your baby brother will die forever, and it will be all your fault because you a hundred percent could have saved me.

Tim: *face of intense despair* WHY DO YOU ALWAYS MAKE ME ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?

Duke, genuinely starting to lose it: you have to- you have to- *wheeze*

Damian, grinning at Duke: *turning to Tim* he's right, you have to answer.

Tim: i'd probably fucking kill myself to be honest.

Jason, cupping his hands around his mouth: COP OUT, BOOOOOOO

Tim: oh fuck off- what the hell am i supposed to say? it's the most unethical would you rather of the twenty-first century, there is no good outcome. like- *spots Alfred, peacefully gardening nearby* like- hey, Alfred, what would you do? what do you think?

Alfred:

Alfred:

Alfred: i think these conversations are exactly why Master Bruce won't let any of you start a podcast.

The boys:

Dick: *still weeping on the patio floor*

Damian: that's fair.

[tyaki129]

[hagihino]

[mitrevisan]

Hmm depression

[kartsie]

What are you lookin at?

[ninalinovna]

arkham jay 🦇

[ckalaveram]

Happy pride!

[asterair]

countdown trio!!

[sinnashuart]

Let's get carried by papa!

[jmeestella]

Who would have thought? I actually did more art for this AU.

[lieutenant-lithuania]

Part 2

Imagine Y/N, slowly cracking under their neglect from the batfam, having to learn how to live in a family that doesn't want to see them. You're only a teen and have multiple years to go in the mansion.

You barely ever spoke up, gave up on all attempts of trying to communicate and befriend anyone. What was the point?

Till one day Bruce decided to ask you about your skipped classes, in that feigned concern. If you could call it feigned, he clearly had somewhere else to be.

And you, for the first time ever, just snapped. "Shut up and get the fuck away from me."

That's all you said, voice filled with disdain and hatred. It left Bruce speechless, watching you walk off with a new sense of spirit in you.

If they won't like you, you won't give them any reason to anymore.

-----------

Tim was hunched over, head ducked into his phone and scrolling through the latest article, possibly connected to a case he's working on, when suddenly he bumps into someone. It's hard enough for him to drop his phone and see it bounce weakly off the ground.

He looks up and sees you, your own device also clattered onto the floor.

"watch—"

"Watch where you're going! Are you blind or something? Or is that shitload of coffee finally catching up to you, dingbat." You curse, quickly snatching your phone off the floor and muttering a couple more unsavory things under your mouth. Tim tries to say something, tries to ask what's wrong, but you're already off and away without as much as a glance behind you.

Have you always been so angry and bold? Come to think of it, he hasn't talked to you in a while, better make sure you're okay.

-------

You lay on the couch, sprawled out like you personally bought and built it. TV remote in hand, a random show you found blasting through the living room.

This place has the best couch, the best view of the biggest TV in the manor (if you don't count any in the batcave) and has the best sound system up here. You didn't come up here often, since it was a popular space for the bats to relax in. But now, you didn't care.

"hey, you gonna finish that soon?" A cheery voice suddenly picked up behind you. You lazily dropped your head back to look at the noir haired Nightwing. "My show's gonna be on soon."

You looked at Dick for a moment, face blank, before replying "I won't be finishing soon, no." Without further input you direct your attention back to the show. Dick was a bit... Caught off guard. "Uh— what?"

You scoff, pausing the show as if he was wasting precious time and turned your entire body to fully deliver your next words. "I said I'm not finished, I'm gonna binge watch this whole thing today, go find somewhere else to watch those stupid rom-coms. Stop acting as if this is the only goddamn TV in this manor."

Dick is, to say the least, surprised. Your attitude has thrown him off his thought process, and just absolutely fumbled him. He doesn't know what to do so he just, walks out.

What's gotten into you? When did you become so angry? Did he do something? He needs to figure this out quick.

-------

Soon, it seems like the air has thickened. You feel the bats's eyes linger on you as you walk by, taking in your every move and facial expression. Why does it feel like all of a sudden everyone is secretly staring at you? Why is everyone starting to act like they care? It unsettled you, so whenever someone did something even slightly suspicious in your eyes, you'd snarl and bark for them to go away and go on another mission or something.

-------

Alfred tricked you.

You stood in the meeting room, the grand table having full seats. Every one of them, Bruce, Dick, Tim, Damian, heck even Jason was here, they were all here and looking right at you.

You nervously looked at each member, feeling small and vulnerable again.

There was no fresh batch of cookies in here...

Bruce spoke up, fists clenched on the hardwood table, his voice uncharacteristically soft, gentle, sincere.

"Y/N, please take a seat. We'd like to talk to you."

[sammichiart]

beef

[based on this image]

[bohemianaftersunset]

Usually, Robert did his best to ignore him - shoving his headphones in or giving a polite, sterile reply before slinking out early. Sometimes he even skipped the gym showers entirely, opting to ride home as a sweaty, uncomfortable mess on the bus or apologizing to his Uber driver. Facing the terrible plumbing of his own apartment felt like the safer bet, because staying this close to Chad felt entirely too much like playing with matches.

But tonight, Chad wasn't letting him fade into the background and after the psychological warfare in the cafeteria this morning, Robert wasn’t in the mood to run away either. Straightening up from the cable machine, Chad took two steps forward and climbed right onto the empty treadmill directly next to Robert's.

Chad started hitting the buttons on his machine, the rubber belt ramping up beneath his feet. "Five-minute sprint challenge. Right fucking now. Let’s go. Highest distance wins.” Chad started to jog, his pace already faster than Robert's. “If I win, you use your fancy executive powers to restock the breakroom with premium coffee for the next month. You know, the dark roast I like. Not that shit they usually give us."

The mention of Robert’s knowledge of his favorite coffee was a subtle nudge that had Robert rolling his eyes but the competitive spark already caught in his chest. He was tired of playing defense, tired of ignoring the constant challenges and honestly, he was tired of the smug look Chad would give him at the gym next time if he backed down now. This was their baseline - the sharp, easy banter where they actually made sense.

Robert reached out to hit his own speed increase. "And if I win?”

Chad smirked, his eyes cutting sideways as Robert set the timer on his own console. “You won’t.”

Robert let out a breathless, genuine laugh. “You're on."

For five minutes, it was pure, exhausting noise - the slap of their sneakers, the rush of air in their lungs and the heavy awareness of each other’s bodies pushing to the limit side by side. Chad didn't keep quiet either, throwing out casual insults every time Robert checked the distance.

"Is that all you got, bitch? My grandmother walks faster to the buffet, Bob-bob!"

When the timers finally beeped, Robert collapsed forward, hands gripping the console, his chest heaving as he stared at the screens.

Chad had beaten him by two-hundredths of a mile.

"Unbelievable," Robert groaned, his throat raw and burning. "You cheated. You’ve got a ridiculous stride length,"

"I have superior lung capacity and better genetics. It’s fucking science," Chad panted, though he looked thoroughly satisfied, his chest heaving as he offered a smug, sweaty high-five in the space between their machines.

Robert swung his arm to smack Chad's hand away, but in his utterly exhausted state, his coordination betrayed him. His hand lingered for a half-second too long, his palm pressing flat against Chad’s broad, calloused hand.

Their skin was slick, hot, and instantly electric. The playful, competitive illusion fractured for a split second, the latent heat of Chad's element humming right against the sensitive pulse point of Robert's inner wrist.

Robert pulled his hand back quickly, clearing his throat. "Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your favorite coffee. I'm going to go abuse the showers. The water pressure in my building is-”

“An insult to humanity. Yeah, everyone knows," Chad finished smoothly, his eyes tracing the line of sweat dripping down Robert's neck. He bit his lip, throwing Robert a sharp wink as the smaller man stepped off the treadmill. “Take your time,"

Robert's heart skipped a beat - and it wasn't from the cardio.

excerpt from Waiting on You ~ Book 2 ~ Part XV. Melting Point

Lazy hangover morning = perfect for sitting around to fuckin finish this one ✌🏼

I very briefly looked up drawing sweat drops but didn’t linger so I’ll need to try that again another time. Whatever, here’s a few partin’ shots.

(you can see how lame my ‘gym’ background truly is 😂 just lots of blobs and some Gaussian fuckin blur 🤷🏼)