𝗲𝗻𝗻𝘆 ✨

REQUESTING RULES:

what I WILL write:

plus size reader;

wlw;

fem/gender neutral reader;

found family;

hurt/comfort;

angst/fluff;

pregnancies

what I WON'T write:

dub/noncon/r@pe;

hurt/no comfort (except in some cases);

characterxcharacter (unless it's a background couple);

male reader (i just don't know how to write a man sorry);

yandere and all its variations;

ANYTHING ROMANTIC FOR THE JOKER.

here's some characters and fandoms I write for:

DC COMICS:

bruce wayne

dick grayson

jason todd

tim drake

damian wayne

batfamily in general

clark kent

conner kent

jon kent

diana prince

hal jordan

wally west

MARVEL (COMICS AND MOVIES):

steve rogers

bucky barnes

natasha fomanoff

thor odinson

peter parker

james "logan" howlett

remy labeau (gambit)

scott summers

anna marie (rogue)

THE AVATAR SAGA:

jake sully

neteyam sully

lo'ak sully

tonowari

ronal

aonung

tsireya

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS:

percy jackson

annabeth chase

clarisse la rue

will solace

jason grace

piper mclean

frank zhang

if the character you want to request isn't on the list, dw!! send me a message/an ask and I'll see if I can come up with something :)

It’s not often that Jack and Janet take Tim with them on vacations — in comparison to how often they go on work trips, at least. Mostly, they leave him with Mrs Mac if he’s not already at boarding school, and then convince themselves that they’ll find the time to take him on another vacation as soon as the holidays arrive. Usually they rarely find the time, but from what he knows about this trip, it’s your father who persisted on the Drakes coming with your family. 

And that’s how Tim finds himself in a red swimsuit, tracking behind you with a shovel and a bucket as you hold a pink hand net from the beach store right in front of your hotel in your palms. “Move, Timmy!” you insist — you’re very dictatorial, like always. “We’ve gotta find some crabs!”

Timmy does not want to move. He does want to help you find crabs, but the sun’s killing him even with all the sunscreen he put on earlier and the bucket hat his father insisted on him wearing. Meanwhile, you’re happily strutting around in your newest rosy one-piece swimsuit with red polka dots, your mother’s Prada sunglasses resting over your eyes like you own them. Briefly, he wonders if the spa at the hotel accepts kids, because he could really use some actual relaxing in the cold bath as of now. 

You manage to snatch a small, orange crab from a rock and it almost manages to nip at your fingers when you try to feed it some seaweed in the bucket. “He’s so cute, Timmy,” you gush, crouched in front of the poor crab’s new enclosure, “I’m going to call her Princess.”

Your friend deadpans, “You don’t even know if it’s a she or a he,” he reminds you.

You coo like you hadn’t even thought about that, “You’re right! I should give her a name that works for both ways, just in case.”

“Like Andrea?” he suggests. 

You think about it for a while, then giggle mischievously like you’ve just had the best idea ever. “No — like Robin.” 

Tim gasps incredulously, “Robin’s a male name!”

“It isn’t!” you insist, “Robin the sidekick may be a boy, but if it could only be a boy, then he would be called Robinman or something!” you hug the bucket to your chest, “Worry not, Robin, I will love you even if you turn out to be a boy — but I will dump you back in the water if you are.” 

“You’ll have to dump it back in the water anyways,” Tim grumbles, “you can’t exactly keep it alive with love and seaweed in a hotel room, y’know.” 

You pout, “A dad should love his kid without reservations– even if said kid is a crab?”

Tim stutters, “I’m its dad now?”

“Of course!” you reply, and if this wasn’t you he’d guess you’re about to call him dumb. “If I’m its mom, it only makes sense that you’re his dad.” 

“So now we have a kid, who we still aren’t sure is a girl or a boy by the way, that we called Robin for that specific reason?”

You nod, convinced. “It will do until we grow up and actually marry each other.” 

Your friend blanches, and his stutter becomes even worse. “M– marry each other?”

The frown you give him is the same one you give your father whenever he refuses to buy you the newest Barbie’s Dream House. “Duh! What are we supposed to do, stay friends forever? We’ll get married in the same church mom and dad got married in and we’ll have three kids — Barbie, Ken and Stacy. Then we’ll get old in an apartment at the Solar Tower and spend our days playing with our twenty grandbabies.” 

He feels like fainting. He calls your name out once, twice, until he has your full attention. “You know we’re not dolls in your Dream House, right?” he’s got the feeling you don’t really know that. 

“Of course, I know that, silly,” you answer, but your voice lacks your usual chipper in it. Your eyes go down, back to Robin, and you act like he didn’t say anything. “I’ll be a model and you can be– dunno, whatever you want to be. You’re smart, you probably won’t even have to make an effort to have things your way. If you don’t like Solar Tower we could find a house in Mount Royal–”