#dc comcis

[sinizade]

Wonder Woman and Steven Universe because they would be BESTIES

[wilmvandrr]

sorry?

[superhero-appreciation-blog]

Tim, after a long patrol, collapses onto the couch and ends up falling mostly on Dick

Jason, in a lightly mocking tone Awww, look at the sleepy baby

Dick humms and shifts, trying to get more comfortable with the extra weight

Jason grins, sees the opportunity to annoy Dick, and leans on Tim to put more pressure on Dick, stretching widely, I’m so tiiiired

Dick too tried to realize Jason is being a brat, starts patting Jason’s hair Me too man, me too

Jason who is also exhausted from patrol feels his eyelids start to droop, begins to doze on Tim unwittingly

Tim is completely unaware

Tim later wakes up trapped not only between Dick and Jason but all their other siblings have joined the pile in some way

Tim glances sideways and sees Bruce sitting in a chair

Bruce, not looking up, Alfred has already sent the photos to Barbara

Tim huffs then goes back to sleep, knowing attempting escape is futile

[moonchild-nissa]

[kkurensia]

howdy pardner

since a lot of yall liked the idea of cowboy nightwing

throws these out for good measure

freaky wip photo

[wholexw]

Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne.

Synopsis: They are having a heated argument.

DICK GRAYSON

When his parents died, he grieved for a while, but eventually, he just... kept going. No regrets, no looking back.

He always managed to move on from bad things.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself while stuffing the candy you’d bought together onto the highest shelves — shoved all the way to the back where you wouldn’t notice them, even if you tried to reach.

That way, you’d have no choice but to talk to him.

He’d already lost count of how long you’d been ignoring him. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn’t stand sleeping alone.

Not again.

After the fight, he’d said maybe the two of you should take a breather. Cool off before things got worse.

So when he came back later, apology already rehearsed in his head, breakfast tray balanced carefully in his hands, he walked into the bedroom almost excited.

What Dick hadn’t expected was for you to take his words that seriously.

When he said take a breather, he meant maybe thirty minutes. An hour, tops. Just enough time to calm down before saying something unforgivable.

Not... whatever this was.

Not you refusing to talk to him altogether. Not sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. Not acting like the two of you were suddenly strangers trying to rethink your entire relationship.

The breakfast went untouched.

So did the small pout on his face.

You didn’t even let him sit beside you when he tried to talk.

He ended up sleeping on the couch.

The next day was fucking miserable. His mood was awful, and everyone in the manor could feel it hanging in the air.

Grayson didn’t act like this. Even with his half-assed “I’m fine,” it was obvious he was anything but.

And when he finally got back to the apartment that night, exhausted and emotionally wrung out, he went straight for the bed, practically collapsing on top of you like he needed the contact to survive.

You pushed at him weakly, nowhere near as firmly as you had the past few days.

He let out this quiet, bitter little laugh but still refused to let go.

“Baby, stop,” he mumbled softly.

Even when you tried to shove him off again, he just held you tighter, burying his face against your neck like he was starving for you.

“Please,” he whispered, completely drained.

JASON TODD

Jason could be such a fucking asshole sometimes — selfish, cold, always running his mouth before thinking twice. It was easier for him to let people hate him than let them get close enough to actually understand him.

Not that he acted that way around kids or women. Around them, he kept himself restrained. Distant. But the second he felt cornered — exposed in any way — those sharp looks and cruel words came out like second nature.

A defense mechanism. The only one he’d ever really had.

You knew that.

You knew about his mother leaving him behind like he was nothing. Knew how, for one brief moment, Bruce Wayne had made him feel wanted — safe — only for Jason to end up feeling abandoned all over again.

Trust didn’t come easy to him. Neither did vulnerability. Loving you probably scared the hell out of him.

So instead of fighting back, you swallowed the hurt along with your pride. You waved your hand dismissively, avoiding his eyes as you muttered a quiet, “Forget it,” before turning around and walking away.

And somehow, that felt worse.

Jason swallowed thickly as he watched you leave.

You didn’t yell at him. Didn’t demand an apology. Didn’t ask him to take back a single thing he’d said.

You just… left.

Like you were tired.

After everything he’d thrown at you, all you wanted was for him to forget it.

But he couldn’t.

Because after that, something changed.

You still talked to him. Still answered when he spoke. But there was distance in you now — something careful, almost detached — and Jason noticed every second of it.

It made his chest ache.

And, if he was being honest, it scared him enough to make him paranoid.

TIM DRAKE

This time, the fight started over something stupid.

You’d turned off Tim’s alarm so he could finally rest on his day off. In your head, it was a small act of care — something gentle.

Tim didn’t see it that way.

He had deadlines, reports, a million things waiting for him, and when he woke up hours later, disoriented and exhausted, the soft good morning kisses you pressed against his face quickly turned into frustration.

“No, because this isn’t about whether I should rest or not,” he snapped, shoving himself out of bed. “It’s about the fact that you don’t get to interfere with my work. You don’t get to decide when I stop.”

You frowned, trying not to react to the sharpness in his voice. “Tim, you hadn’t slept in two days.”

“Yeah? And just because you don’t have the same responsibilities I do doesn’t mean you get to make choices for me.”

The words hit harder than he intended.

Your expression changed immediately. Hurt. Shocked.

“Tim.”

But he was already too angry, too exhausted, too worked up to stop himself.

“Mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine.”

And after that, neither of you were exactly kind to each other.

The argument ended with Tim slamming the front door hard enough to shake the walls.

The second he got into the car, regret settled heavy in his chest.

Because Tim overthought everything.

Every failed relationship. Every mistake. Every moment where he’d been too distant, too busy, too emotionally unavailable. The thought looped endlessly in his head until he felt sick with it.

You’re ruining this too. You’re going to lose them too.

By the time he sat down in front of his computer, he couldn’t focus on a single thing. His leg bounced anxiously under the desk while his mind tortured him with scenario after scenario of you getting tired of him. Leaving him. Finding someone softer. Easier to love.

Someone better.

The anger faded quickly, leaving behind only exhaustion and this horrible, crushing sadness.

So when he finally came home hours later, all that was left of his pride was exhaustion.

Quietly, almost nervously, Tim slipped into bed beside you.

He turned toward you carefully, watching your face in the dim light for a second with this small, hopeful look in his eyes. Like maybe if he stayed close enough, you’d roll over and pull him into your arms. Maybe you could both pretend the fight never happened until morning.

But you didn’t move.

You just turned your back to him.

And suddenly the room felt unbearably cold.

Tim bit down hard on his lip the second he felt tears gathering in his eyes, embarrassed by how fast they came. Still, he couldn’t stop them. They slid silently down his cheeks while he stared at your back, trying not to make a sound.

When you still didn’t turn around, the quiet sniffles eventually broke into shaky, uneven crying.

Because that was the moment it really hit him.

You weren’t going to comfort him this time.

Please.

Please kiss his swollen eyes and tell him you’re still here.

DAMIAN WAYNE

To everyone’s surprise, Damian Wayne was actually a good boyfriend.

It sounded absurd to anyone who only knew him from a distance. With the way he carried himself — sharp tongue, permanent scowl, an attitude that pushed people away before they could even try getting close — nobody expected him to be soft with someone he loved.

But he was.

Painfully so.

Damian was romantic in a way that caught you off guard. Quietly sentimental. The kind who noticed insignificant details you'd mentioned months before.

There was something unbearably delicate hidden beneath all that hostility.

And little by little, you had managed to reach it.

You peeled back every layer he tried so desperately to hide behind until you finally touched the vulnerable parts of him nobody else got to see.

At first, it felt like a victory.

Like warmth blooming inside your chest.

Being trusted by Damian Wayne felt sacred. Intimate. You thought you understood him now — the things he feared, the things he buried, the things he struggled to say out loud.

You were wrong.

Because somehow, Damian always found a way to shut you back out again.

One wrong moment, one careless outburst, and suddenly every wall you thought you’d broken down was standing taller than before.

You pressed your lips together tightly, forcing yourself not to say something impulsive.

The silence in his bedroom felt horrible.

Cold.

Suffocating.

“What’s wrong, Damian?”

He didn’t answer.

“Damian,” you tried again, irritation slipping into your voice this time.

The entire day had been fine. More than fine, actually. He’d left his classes early just to spend time with you. You’d gone out to eat together, watched a movie back at the manor, stayed curled up against each other for hours.

And then suddenly he changed.

Short answers. Dismissive looks. Ignoring you whenever you spoke.

The worst part was that he’d done it in front of your friends.

Having your boyfriend act cold and irritated toward you in front of your classmates was humiliating.

“I already told you. Nothing.”

“Then why are you talking to me like this?” you asked, frustration finally bubbling over. “If something upset you, how am I supposed to fix it if you won’t talk to me? We’re together, Damian. We’re supposed to work things out.”

He laughed quietly under his breath, but there was nothing amused about it.

“God, you’re irritating.”

You stared at him silently.

And there it was again.

That look.

Distant. Closed off. Like he’d shoved you outside the walls all over again.

“Do you genuinely believe something is wrong with me?” he asked mockingly. “I have far more important matters to deal with.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“Fine.”

The second the word left your mouth, Damian hesitated.

Barely.

But you noticed it.

“What?” you asked flatly.

You grabbed your backpack from the floor and walked toward the door of his room.

Damian watched you the entire time without speaking.

Because what was he supposed to say?

That he hated how your friends interrupted the date the second things started feeling intimate? That it bothered him watching you laugh with them while he sat there feeling invisible? That he’d wanted your attention to himself for once?

It was supposed to be his time with you.

His moment.

The bedroom door shut softly behind you.

And suddenly the room felt unbearably empty.

Damian sat down at the edge of the bed slowly, his chest tightening with every passing second until it became difficult to breathe. His eyes burned.

You hadn’t even tried to stop him from pushing you away this time.

You just left.

Eventually, he collapsed face-first onto the mattress, burying himself beneath the blankets like hiding would somehow make the ache in his chest disappear.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there.

Minutes. Maybe hours.

At some point, he grabbed his phone.

Your chat was still open.

Damian stared at your contact silently while his thumb hovered over the call button. His stomach twisted painfully with nerves.

Call them. Don’t call them. Call them.

Before he could think too hard about it, he pressed the button.

The ringing nearly made him sick.

Once. Twice.

By the third ring, you answered.

“Hello?”

Damian froze.

Your voice was soft. Careful.

And suddenly, all at once, the anger drained out of him, leaving behind nothing but this awful ache in his chest.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Because right then, curled up alone in his bed with tears stinging his eyes, Damian could only think one thing:

Who was he without you?

BRUCE WAYNE

Why are you arguing with this man? Leave the old man alone; he has enough problems already.

• I admit it, I just wanted to write about Tim being a whiny crybaby. oc tim (?

Also, as you know, I don't speak English and it's translated thanks to technology :) I've had this in drafts for months ()

[attractive-trashcan]

*Dick in his apartment working on a police case*

*Tim appears in front of Dick*

Tim: Dick, where do you have more toothpaste?

Dick, confused: Wait, what? Tim? What are you doing in my apartment? When did you even get here?

Tim: Same time as the others did. But that doesn't matter. Where do you store the toothpaste?

Dick: The other? what others? And what do you need toothpaste for?

Tim: I just ne-

Damian,*Walking into the living room*: tt, Grayson I demand you to tell me where there are more pillows?

Stephanie,*Beside Damian*: Dickkk, Cass wanna know if you have any candles, and I wanna know where you store bleach.

Dick: Steph, Dami your also here?

Stephanie: Cass and Duke too

Dick: CASS AND DUKE TOO!! WHAT? ARE THERE MORE PEOPLE IN MY APARTMENT THAT I DON'T KNOW ABOUT!?

Jason,*Coming into the living room*: Yo Dick, you're out of food. When will you order takeout?

Dick: JASON TOO

Stephanie: To be fair, we didn't know Jason was here.

Damian: tt, What are you doing here Todd you said, you had something really important to do.

Jason: Yes, eat all off Dicks food, and then make him order takeout. That's very important.

[faiyaart]

Clark loves the Gotham Newspaper very much.