TVSTRANGERTHINGS

★

Janaina Medeiros
Xuebing Du
i don't do bad sauce passes
ojovivo

blake kathryn
we're not kids anymore.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Peter Solarz
KIROKAZE
🪼
taylor price

shark vs the universe
Jules of Nature

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seen from Singapore
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seen from Spain
seen from United States
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@itszarinaig

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hiiii cutie!! may i request a batfamily x batmom!reader where theyre on a plane (i know he has his own but for story’s sake he uses public airlines) and encounter a really mean old lady who finds discomfort with the family for some reason or other and makes it reader’s problem until bruce comes back from talking with the pilot or restroom or wtv and the old lady sees this and immediately goes hush. i just think thatd be so funny
Please Secure Your Attitude for Takeoff
Pairing: Batfamily x Batmom!AFAB!Reader
Words: 4k
Content Warning: None!
A/N: Hiiii!! Finally getting through my request inbox, yay!
Enjoy, Reader
This was going to be a shitshow.
You knew it the moment you arrived with Bruce Wayne at the public airport with seven children, two garment bags, far too many carry-ons, and the serene, devastating confidence of a man who had never once been personally humbled by boarding group numbers, overhead bin politics, or the particular little purgatory of removing shoes while an entire security line breathed down the back of his neck.
He had said it would be fine, because Bruce always said things would be fine in that low, steady voice that made disaster sound like an administrative inconvenience waiting for his signature.
The private jet was unavailable, which you strongly suspected meant one of the children had broken something expensive, another had attempted to hide the evidence badly, and Alfred had decided, with all the silent cruelty of a man who polished silverware like a verdict, that commercial air travel was the natural consequence.
So Bruce had bought first-class tickets, guided everyone through the airport with one warm hand at the small of your back, and said, “It will be good for them.”
You had looked up at him beneath the harsh airport lights, surrounded by travelers, rolling luggage, crying toddlers, and the smell of burnt coffee. “For them?”
“For all of us,” Bruce had said, which was much worse.
“That sounds like something said immediately before a tragedy.”
“It’s only a few hours.”
That was only an hour ago. Now the plane hums around you, that strange hush that only happens in the air, all of you sealed inside a narrow metal body above the clouds, breathing the same cold, recycled air. The engines drone low and steady, interrupted by the occasional soft chime overhead. Sunlight presses in through the oval windows, pale and bright, turning the leather seats glossy and catching on the plastic cups scattered across tray tables.
The cabin smells faintly of coffee, expensive perfume, warm electronics, and the sharp, artificial chill of pressurized air. Dick sits across the aisle, already adored by two flight attendants and a toddler with a dinosaur backpack. Dick Grayson could make polite eye contact with a vending machine and leave it feeling understood.
Jason has a paperback open in one hand, but he looks less like he’s reading and more like he’s daring the entire concept of literature to pick a fight. Your heart pulls a little when you catch him checking, just once, to see if you noticed the title; one of the stray, silent ways he still asks for approval, as if old habits might let him believe he is only visiting home.
Tim is behind you, laptop open, soul halfway gone, fighting sleep with the tragic dignity of a vigilante fighting bedtime. You remember the year you learned to make strong tea just the way he prefers, so he wouldn’t fade during finals.
Cass has already taken the laptop before it can slide off the tray table, moving so quietly that Tim just blinks at his empty hands like a magician stole his future. She gives you a fleeting, conspiratorial smile, the kind she reserves only for family.
Duke wears a travel pillow and watches the cabin with the mild amusement of someone waiting for the plot to thicken. On mornings when the world feels heavy, you still call him your little sun.
Damian sits beside you, sketchbook open in his lap, drawing Titus in what looks like a cape and a small, deeply judgmental cowl. He leans a little into your shoulder as he draws, a closeness he pretends is absent, but you know is his version of trust.
Bruce had been seated on your other side until ten minutes after takeoff, when a flight attendant leaned down and murmured something about the captain wanting a word. His eyes had shifted in that subtle way you recognized, attention sharpening behind the mask of a polite billionaire, and he had touched your wrist before standing.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said.
“You said that once and came back with a child.”
Jason coughed into his fist, and Dick suddenly became very interested in the safety card.
Bruce’s mouth barely twitched. “No more children.”
“Do you promise?”
“For the rest of the flight.”
“Romantic,” you said, and he brushed his thumb once over the inside of your wrist before disappearing toward the front galley, broad shoulders making the aisle look unfairly narrow as he moved past the curtain.
For approximately thirty seconds, there was peace.
*senior year damian wayne
damian wayne gets really shy when someone brings up his girlfriend.
it’s kind of weird because when it comes to you, he’s so uncharacteristically coy.
he sports an attitude far different from his overconfident snobby act.
its mostly because you’re his first solid relationship, so he gets a bit timid !!!
his family loves to tease him about it, specifically richard.
everyone’s aware of what happens when you get brought into the conversation, and they exploit it!!
for example, tim and damian would be arguing about something stupid.
Tim would be all like “I wonder if you’d be so cocky if she was around!” and damian eyes would just go wide and his cheeks would be in flames
bruce is another person who notices it.
he’s just happy to see that damian cares enough about teenager things like girlfriend and relationships.
he does bring you up every so often though, mostly to keep damian on his feet.
driving back to the manor in the batmobile, bruce just happens to throw your name into the conversation.
“…how is she these days?”
damian doesnt realize his jaw is hanging a little and thats his ears shot up at the mention of your name.
bruce continues to watch damian scramble from the rear view mirror
buff!l blurb inspired by @/oghostfucker’s beautiful art work bc i can’t get it out of my head >_< :: https://www.tumblr.com/oghostfucker/807267147611029504/some-buff-l-sketches-for-this
💬 11 🔁 184 ❤️ 900 · Some buff L sketches for this
“I’m hitting the gym, would you wanna come with?”
“Why?”
You pause in your steps, turning back to look at your boyfriend who had been sitting quietly in his chair, knees to his chin while his thumb pressed gently against his lip.
Perhaps not the right person to ask…at least you think? You’d never really seen L work out, and that was understandable due to his occupation—but it was a Saturday, and you knew he had nowhere to be.
“To stay fit?” You chuckled, walking back over to his hunched over figure. The blue light reflected in his eyes, highlighting the bags beneath them and his pale skin color.
“Hm.”
You hesitate for a moment before leaning down to place your chin on top of his shoulder, your lips close to his skin.
“Come on, why don’t you come? It won’t hurt. Besides you’ll make for great company.” You give his cheek a quick kiss as a little…persuasion.
“Please?”
“I wasn’t asking earlier why you would go to a gym…I was questioning why you would go to a public one? Hundreds of people enter in and out, it’s plain unsanitary.”
You almost laugh at his response, but when he tilts his head to look at you, you give him a confused look. “What do you mean public? You’re acting like you have your own private one.”
“..I do.”
You lift yourself back up, standing straight.
“What!? I didn’t know this—When did you work out so frequently you had your own gym?”
“Regularly. I didn’t think it was important..”
He slowly ascended from his chair, towering over you as he scratched his ankle with his other foot.
“You knew I went almost every week, how come it didn’t make itself relevant then?” When he stayed silent you didn’t even bother scolding him…
“Come on let’s go there then! I wanna see!”
“If you insist…”
Oh and you insisted greatly. Fortunately for you, you were stubborner than even the smartest detective in the world, and when you arrived? You could barely contain your excitement.
“How could you have been hiding this from me!” You squealed, running around the space like a little kid. Different kinds of machines littered the room, and mirrors decorated the walls. It was perfect! No more randoms checking you out or judging you, no more experiencing the feeling of being watched, and of course, L was just a bonus.
“I didn’t know it would provoke this much excitement from you.” He murmured, walking towards you—your body practically vibrating.
“It’s a dream! Absolutely no more anxiety—how is this not a safe haven for you?”
You barely even gave him a chance to answer your own question before you bounced over to the bench lift, immediately positioning yourself. “Wait, wait—spot me here first!” You giggled, smiling as you watched him add weights onto the machine. You should’ve asked him to go to the gym with you months ago, maybe you would’ve been here sooner…
“Ehm, L? Are you ready?”
“One moment.” You heard the sound of clothes shifting yet paid no mind, focusing on the weight you were easily going to lift! A little flaunting never hurt anyone… Maybe he’d be impressed!
“Ready.”
“Okay!”
Your hands slowly wrapped around the bar, struggling in the beginning just a bit before successfully lifting it! Your mistake however came when it was time to bring it back down. Literally.
You were shaking ever so slightly, and L noticed immediately—not missing a beat to quickly reach out and help.
Now, what you expected from L physique wise was a pretty lean yet still athletic build. Not huge biceps!! You almost dropped the bar completely when they came into your line of vision—was he shirtless!?
He immediately lifted the bar back into place, but you—once again—didn’t allow him to speak.
“How many secrets are you keeping from me!?” You exclaim, getting to your feet and turning around to be met with a body you seriously couldn’t believe belonged to your boyfriend.
“What!?” You squeaked once more, placing your palms against his torso. Rock solid.
You felt your face begin to heat up—and you could’ve sworn he was flexing!? How dare he!? In a predicament like this!?!
“Why are you?—How did you do that!?”
“I feel hurt you’re so surprised.” He replied, the sly little smile on his lips not going unnoticed.
You squeezed his sides as if you were inspecting him, trailing your hands over his body like he was a shiny new ken doll. His muscles were prominent—how could you not notice?
“How long are you going to continue?…”
“Shut up, I know you’re enjoying it.” You grumbled beneath your breath, going in for a hug just to feel him. “Wrap your arms around me. Tight.”
A pause.
“I-it’s for a test!”
With faux annoyance his arms slowly encircled you, squeezing your waist almost mercilessly. It hurt. In such an amazing way. You wouldn’t mind seeing the light if it was the cause of his arms…
You sighed into his neck, giving the side of it a quick peck before deflating entirely. Pure relaxation.
“You need to walk around shirtless more often…”
masterlist
jason's upset.
he knows it's petty. yet, that does nothing to abate the furrow of his brows and the pout on his lips.
your mii is refusing to date his mii. the stubby big-headed character he poured way too much effort into making it look like you using the face paint and tinkering with the facial placement— though it is but a pittance compared to the real deal. not to mention the fact that he had to make you based off memory since he had been too shy to confess that he made both of you as miis on his island and wanted a reference.
the only two residents on his island, in fact.
and he's still getting rejected.
if he was lucky you'd let him talk to you whilst sitting together on the fountain. only for his mii to vaguely ask to hang out and make things awkward.
he had even made place holder miis, before unceremoniously removing them, until he got the island expansions! the restaurant. photo booth. pawn shop. hell, even the ferris wheel! yet, no juice could be made from the fruit of his labor.
your mii had been adamant in constantly rejecting his advances, even having the gall to fall in love with one of the placeholder miis.
and after every rejection, his own mii kept falling back in love after a trip to europe to subside his despair. after the first few times the love bubble inevitably popped up, jason had told his mii-self that it was too soon to ask your mii out only for that equally big-headed bunch of pixels refuse his advice and ask you out anyway. rinse and repeat.
perhaps it was a cruel joke on him for even trying. was it because your mii wasn't accurate enough? jason swears to himself that he'll keep a small photo of you in his wallet from this day forth.
perhaps it was poetic. that, no matter what happens to him, he'll always come to love you.

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This is totally not based off a true story or anything buuuuut
SMAU where Reader is repeatedly warned not to try and crack their bones so aggressively and ends up having to text their partner and explain that they might need to go to the hospital because they dislocated something
The Hospital??
featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Wally West
warning: panicking and dramatic bfs, dislocation mentioned, hospital, tim being a little stalker (not in a bad way tho…)
A/N: Can you tell that I had a lot of fun writing Wally’s part?? LMAOO, I hope you’re doing okay now and of course I hope you enjoy reading this<33
✧˖° 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑠𝑜𝑛
✧˖° 𝐽𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑑
✧˖° 𝑇𝑖𝑚 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑘𝑒
✧˖° 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑊𝑒𝑠𝑡
Tumblr Sexyman Contest 2026 Round 1 Part 19
Poseidon (Epic the Musical)
Danny Motta (YouTube)
Poseidon art is by @neal-illustrator
a morning with damian and the latest guest in your home, or — in which, he realizes he has two spoiled girls on his hands. damian wayne x fem!reader too much fluff . now playing : ( fairuz ) يسعد صباحك – فيروز
“You’re making qahwa?”
Damian hummed, glancing briefly at where you stood in the doorway. “And toast. Come sit, you’ll get fed.” It’s an act of bravery from him, you think, and a great show of strength to be bare footed against the cold floors at this hour of the morning.
There’s a hypnotic softness within his voice though that coaxes you near, and your feet move without much thought, tiptoeing — or trying to, with little yelps along the way — across the cold tiles.
January was always one of the coldest months in Gotham, where mornings came with glowy windows slick from condensation and the silent stillness of wintertime.
January, the month of new things, like the rug Bruce gifted you both after the announcement of your engagement that you dreaded having to clean, like Damian’s Peds rotation that had him extra soft on you lately, because being around newborns will do that — not that you would ever complain when you get to have him home in the mornings, sweatpants hung loose, dark hair mussed from sleep and a Gotham U thermal sweatshirt big and soft over his impossible shoulders.
A soft meow came from atop one of the kitchen stools and Damian sighed. “Yes, ya Sultana, you’ll get yours too.”
New things, like the cat that has made her way into your lives. A fluffy white thing, ragdoll-ish and always frowning unless she gets her way. Sultana, Damian called her, because clearly he’s a servant in his own house.
“She’s not pleased, you missed her breakfast time,” you murmured, scooping the cat into your arms and settling yourself onto the stool. “Aren’t you, Sully?” The kitty meowed long and low, a grumble of frustration from her feline throat that spoke only of neglect.
“Tt.”
Damian slid a small plate across the counter — a small slice of toast, no crust and a dollop of labneh. He hunched next to you with a butter knife and his eyebrows drawn tight. “Sully?” he questioned, inquisitive.
“Short for Sultana,” you shrugged.
“Like the Federal Agent?” Damian spread the labneh diligently.
“Isn’t it so cute? We could have it printed on her little pillow.” You hummed in response and he shook his head, raising to his full height again to eye the work he’d completed.
“She does not pay rent. I don’t recall these living arrangements,” he grumbled.
The unwanted guest in question meowed once more, a paw outstretched towards the plate, and Damian, in the middle of his culinary assessment yanked it away, his brows lifting with realization. “Not yet.”
“Well, neither do I,” you said, suddenly distracted by the sight of him crossing the kitchen and reaching an arm up to the highest cabinet, the sleeve of his sweatshirt slipping down to his elbow.
A muscle twitched in his forearm, a vein peeked out too and you swallowed.
“Your name is on all the paperwork, do not insult me.” There was a small glass jar in his hand, and with expert movements, he moved it in front of him and out of your view before you could question it.
“Soon to be our name?” you grinned wolfishly. “Which do you think suits me best, Wayne or Al Ghul?”
“Both are yours,” Damian took the plate away and hunched over it at the corner of the counter like an evil scientist in his laboratory. Sultana meowed and you tried to take a secret glimpse, to no avail. “As well as the one who was born with them.”
“So romantic…” you sighed wistfully. Then your nose twitched at a smell; you knew that smell, earthy and sharp like fresh herbs.
Without a second lost, you rose from your seat. “Damian—”
“I would advise you not to—”
“Is that your mother’s za’atar?”
He winced. “There’s barely any in the jar, I’ll have to contact her soon.”
This did not deter you, as you stalked closer, one of your cold palms slipping under his shirt and meeting the warm flesh of his bare back.
“You liar,” you huffed.
On the counter there was his magnificent display of a dish worth The Sultana’s time, from which he had probably realized that a pretty sprinkle of za’atar on the top was all that was missing from his masterpiece. But the jar next to him was damn near full. “You’ve been hiding the za’atar from me?”
“You put it on your ice cream, ya rouhi.” Damian argued. The memory alone made his shoulders tighten.
“To see how it would taste!”
“You are not mentally well,” he picked up the plate and moved to serve the displeased cat who still sat perched and impatient for her breakfast. “And as your doctor…” he whipped back around to grab the jar before you could beat him to it. “I would advise you not to have any today.”
“You are not my doctor,” you pouted, and Sultana only meowed, happily accepting the dish placed in front of her. “Damiannnn,” you whined.
“I won’t be persuaded,” he turned his back to you, inhaling sharply through his nose. “Go sit down.”
“This is unfair!” You complained childishly. “How come Sultana gets za’atar but I can’t have any? What is this favoritism?”
At the same time, the poor cat sneezed. Definitely the za’atar.
“Bless you, Sully.” “May the Most High prolong your reign, Sultana.” Came simultaneously.
“And this is the cat you don’t want?” you trailed behind him like an invasive shadow, following his every turn, even when he poured the qahwa into your favorite mug, leaving it out to cool. You were by his side when he reached for another plate — or rather, melted into his side — as the loud click! of bread popping up from the toaster took his attention.
“My exact words were that I did not recall any agreed upon living arrangements,” he said. Again, he cut the crusts off — not that you ever once asked him to — and spread labneh onto the toast, the magical jar of za’atar next to him still unopened. “I’m open to options regarding her staying.”
“But you’re not open to sharing the za’atar?” you mumbled, smooshing your cheek against his arm, peering up at him with big, pleading eyes. His jaw twitched, yet his resolve remained.
“Pleeaaaseee, Dami…”
Damian closed his eyes and sighed. “No.”
“But—”
“No, you’ll have too much and it will make you ill.”
“But, I promise—”
“Do not beg,” he sighed. “It’s beneath you.”
You deflated, snaking your arms around his middle. His hand rested atop yours briefly before he broke off a piece of labneh covered toast and brought it to your lips. “Where’s yours?” you asked mid chew.
“I ate last night,” he answered.
You shook your head. “You’ll eat with me,” your fingers found the toast and you reached up to feed him a piece. He accepted it, one of his canines grazing your thumb. “Good?”
He hummed in satisfaction. Your fingers brushed a crumb from his bottom lip and he took your hand against his mouth, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Missing something,” he murmured into your skin.
“Like… your mom’s za’atar?” you smiled cheekily, lifting your head to kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.
He pressed a peck to your nose as you pulled away. “Perhaps.”
“Damian…” you pouted, placing a kiss to his jaw. Your eyelashes fluttered against the skin of his cheek and you felt his lips curve upwards in a smile. Then you suckled at the little sweet spot under the curve of his jawline where his pulse beats your name.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, one hand wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him through that facade of restraint. “Seduction tactics are also beneath you,” he whispered, in that low throaty voice.
A giggle left your throat. “I’m not doing anything…”
Damian sighed, long and heavy. “You’re a better liar than that, beloved.” He tilted his head down and kissed you for real this time, your mouths moving together softly.
Your fingers grasped at the front of his sweatshirt to pull him closer as he hummed against your lips, open mouthed and wanting more.
Brazenly, and mid kiss, you reached your other hand blindly onto the counter for the za’atar jar, but he grasped your wrist in his gentle hold, bringing it up to rest against the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Damn him and his assassin senses.
Across the way, Sultana meowed hungrily. You pulled away, lips swollen, and burst out laughing.
Damian was quick to work on more labneh toast, his brows drawn as he murmured with faux disbelief, “I am a servant. I am a servant in my own home.”
With a sprinkle of za’atar he turned to serve Her Highness, but paused to break a piece of the toast, coated in labneh and now dusted with za’atar, bringing it to your overexcited mouth.
You chewed happily with a squeal and wiggle of your knees.
“Spoiled,” he said, the smile on his face contradicting his words. Then, he leaned down to steal a kiss from your lips, flavored with za’atar and the assorted spices of loving him. He bumped his nose against yours. “You were wrong. It did not require the za’atar.”
“What was missing?” You followed close behind him.
He took your hand in his as he sat down next to the hungry cat, pulling you across his lap. Sultana padded gracefully towards her awaiting plate and began her feast.
“You,” Damian brought the back of your hand to his mouth, placing soft kisses along your knuckles. “Now it tastes like home, ya rouhi.”
🗒️ had to post a dami fic, sick and tired of ppl playing in his face also where are the dami fic writers pls hmu so i can binge read 😔 #myrobin
DC guy most likely to not move a single fucking centimeter when you fall asleep cuddling them?
Clark will be like a stone statue. Too scared to ruin the moment.
Jason will freeze for all eternity if it means he gets to savor this with you
Roy has those trained dad instincts and knows that any movement will ruin it
John Stewart will smile and let you lean on him for all the support you want
hope this answers the question……adios……..
don't leave Jason's girl near a knife
pairing: jason todd x fem! reader, platonic!damian wayne x fem!reader, platonic!tim drake x fem!reader, platonic!dick grayson x fem!reader
summary: Teaching Jason's girlfriend self-defense didn’t turn out as they expected.
word count: 890
warning(s): English is not my first language, not proofread, no use of y/n. Only dick, damian and tim on this fic, sorry! fake gun and knife
author's note: my ig's feed keeps popping this account, and i knew i had to do something with this hahah
˗ˏˋ ♡ fic inspired by this video and this one tooˊ˗
Boredom had arrived at Wayne Manor.
Everyone was gathered for a family lunch. It was customary for the whole family to get together at the Manor once a month to spend some family time—away from their vigilante lives.
It had been a couple of months since Jason had introduced his girlfriend to the family. Or rather, formally introduced her; after his siblings had invaded his apartment looking for answers about his disappearances.
The group was in the living room. Each one held a drink in their hands or had one by their side.
It had been a while since boredom had swept over the group, and now they were talking about the first thing that came to anyone’s mind.
“We could teach you some moves,” Dick said to the girl.
The conversation had drifted toward the lack of coordination among Gotham’s criminals.
Jason’s girlfriend turned to look at one of her brothers-in-law, frowning in confusion.
Jason laughed under his breath, the bottle of beer just inches from his mouth.
“Yeah... good luck with that.”

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Asking the Batboys to get you period stuff (my headcanons)
A/N: I needed to write a quick something to punch through the writer's block and I love the Bats but for some reason I don't really have much posted about them?? Crazy. Enjoy!
Also yeah I'm obviously on my period. Don't fight me. (I'll cry)
Dick Grayson:
Honestly probably one of the best guys to ask for this favour
Man knows what he's doing. Just tell him what you need and he's got EXACTLY what you asked for
He's got experience with this stuff. He's never been too shy to ask the women in his life about these things
The swag tm is pretty hot ngl (yeah I said swag. Only bc Dick would)
And he bought some snacks to make you feel better
Very much walks down the isle of sanitary products with sooo much confidence like "look at me, being a good boyfriend. I'm sooo husband material"
(he's not wrong)
Not an ounce of embarrassment from this man. Just pure confidence
10/10 will do it again
Jason Todd:
Being Damian Wayne’s chaotic!GF who’s the opposite of him HEADCANONS
Being Damian’s chaotic!GF includes… him always being the one to be calm and collected in the relationship whereas you’re loud, talkative and always out and about doing something random instead of relaxing.
There are instances where Damian does end up letting go and sports a real smile, and there’s definitely moments where you have to step up and be the calm and collected one in the relationship when Damian’s anger gets the best of him.
You guys compliment each other in that way.
Can you come pick me up?
Batboys smau
Batboys x reader (pt.2) Pt.1
Summary: you get into a fight and they have to pick you up from the police station
Tim Drake, Duke Thomas
“can you come pick me up?”
Batboys smau. Pt. 2 (w/ the other batboys)
Summary: you get into a fight and they have to pick you up from the police station
Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne
Warnings: swearing, fluff, umm that’s it
A/n: first smau be nice
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 16 (masterpost here)
*Alfred bringing tea and a plate of biscuits down to the cave during a monthly mandatory strategy meeting, with Bruce stood at the head of a table all the kids are seated around*
Duke: i shouldn't even have to be here, i'm the only one on dayshift.
Jason: uh- i reject that; i'm doin' shit during the day too, y'know.
Duke, without missing a beat: that's because you're unemployed and have no civilian friends, there's a fucking difference Jason.
Dick: *covers his mouth, snickering*
Bruce: now, boys-
Jason: i will jump over this table, brightshit. try me.
Duke: *flips Jason off*
Jason, starting to get up: oh you want it-?
Alfred, pointedly putting the tray of snacks down in between them, giving them both warning glares: i trust that the meeting is going well?
*a beat*
Jason, sitting back down: dammit,
Bruce: *sigh* thank you, Alfred. now if we could just get back to-
Duke: i still don't want to be here.
Bruce: oh for- we've been over this, Duke. everybody has to attend these meetings.
Damian: just because you say something is mandatory doesn't mean it's actually necessary. it's subjective.
Bruce: it's not subjective, it's fact. if we don't take time to co-ordinate ourselves then we're more liable to miscommunicate and get ourselves, or others, hurt. it's important that we take this time to go over protocols and codes, as well as alert everybody of upcoming missions. it's not like you have anything better to do tonight, Damian.
Damian: what the hell,
Dick: oooh~
Damian: how dare you; i have plenty of ways to spend my evening, thank you very much-
Bruce, pinching the bridge of his nose: i didn't mean it that way, chum, can we just-
Damian: for starters, Drake and I have a new Lego set to construct, which you are selfishly taking time away from!
Steph, squinting across at Tim: sorry, you two build Lego sets together?
Tim: *defensive* what, mad that he doesn't play with you?
Steph, turning to Damian incredulously: well fucking yes?? dude- i ask you to hang out all the time. how come you'll play with Tim but not me!?
Damian, easily: because your version of hanging out is just dragging me all over Gotham while we stalk your English professor. i don't give a fuck which of the PA's he's hooking up with, Brown. i just want to build Lego.
Alfred: *watches with narrowed eyes as Cass slowly leans forward and drags the entire plate of biscuits towards herself*
Bruce: Damian, language.
Damian: me?!
Dick: fuck yeah, bring down the hammer, B.
Bruce, exhausted: can we all just-
Damian, planting his hands on the table: NO, WHY AREN'T YOU GETTING MAD WHEN THEY SWEAR?
Bruce: Damian- sit back down,
Jason, casually putting his feet on the table: it's 'cause you do it wrong, Dames. the curse word has to fall off the tongue comfortably, so that nobody even realises it shouldn't be in the sentence. *tipping his head up to show his mouth* you gotta- like this, roll your tongue slightly, just let it fall off, see: cunt.
Damian, copying: cunt.
Jason: cunt,
Damian: cunt.
Bruce, staring between the two in defeat: *makes eye contact with Alfred pleadingly*
Alfred: *shrugs*
Jason: cunt,
Damian: cunt, like that?
Jason: yeah, but in a sentence.
Damian: Dick Grayson is a cunt. like that?
Jason: yeah you got it.
Dick: WOAH WOAH- why am i catching strays? the fuck did i do?
Tim, flatly: if you hadn't fucked up the protocol code names three months ago, we wouldn't have to do these meetings.
Duke, pointing at Tim in agreement: that's true.
Dick: I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE, JACKASSES, STEPH DID IT TOO!
Steph: at least i was concussed. you're just an idiot.
Dick: *visibly offended* i'll have you know-
Bruce, snapping: ok that is IT. all of you sit back down, we are going over the current standing protocols and that is FINAL. none of you are leaving until i dismiss you, and if you don't comply then you will be benched for the foreseeable future, understood?
*silence*
*the kids awkwardly exchanging glances as they settle back down into their chairs*
Bruce, sighing in relief: finally. now, can we all-
Jason: *sticks his hand up in the air*
Bruce:
Bruce: *wary* what is it about, Jason?
Jason, innocently: i have a question about the protocols.
Bruce: ...go on then.
Jason: what's the protocol for when you let a call from your overbearing father go to voicemail because you're busy getting it on with Roy Harper mid-patrol, and then said overbearing father just hacks into your private com line mid-fuck anyway, completely ignoring your boundaries and throwing off the mood, all because he wanted to ask whether or not you'd prefer fish or chicken for the family barbeque that weekend?
*complete and utter silence*
Alfred: *stares in disappointment at a rapidly reddening Bruce*
Duke, grinning wildly as he looks between Bruce and Jason: has that ever happened?
Jason, flatly: three times.
Bruce:
Bruce:
Cass: *loudly crunches on biscuits*
Bruce: ok Jason you can go,
Jason, already leaping out his chair: SEE YOU SUCKERS-
Steph: WOAH- HOLD ON, HOLD ON-
Dick: THAT'S SO UNFAIR,
Duke: JUST BECAUSE HE'S A SLUT HE GETS TO AVOID THE MEETINGS?!
Bruce: -STOP SHOUTING AT ME-
Damian: so what i'm hearing is that to get out of these ridiculous things, i just have to tell Jon he's allowed to hit?
*silence*
Bruce, to Damian: ...ok you're grounded,
Tim: Steph, i know we broke up years ago and you're technically my sister now but i feel like this is for the greater good-
Steph: you and i have the same mind, Timmy-boy.
Bruce, distraught: NO-,

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happy pride month y’all!!! sending a lot of love!!!! 🫶🫶
Does anyone remember my Jason adopts an ugly cat au??? I came back with part 2 all of a sudden hah
Part 1 here