#miitopia

✧˖°. 🎮 3DS & DS GAME GRAPHICS 🕹️👾

Yaayy :D

Inspired by the fact I haven’t done anything but play Tomodachi recently… masterlist

You walked into the living room carrying two mugs of tea and immediately knew something was wrong.

Dick was slouched on the couch like someone had stolen his last cookie. The Switch was still on, paused on the bright, colorful Tomodachi Life screen. His Mii - the one with the perfectly styled black hair and the little mask accessory he’d insisted on - was standing sadly in the middle of the island plaza while your Mii (the one with the cheerleader outfit and the hair you’d spent way too long customizing) was happily chatting with a random islander.

Dick’s lower lip was actually jutting out in a pout.

You set the mugs down on the coffee table and raised an eyebrow. “Okay. What happened?”

He let out the most dramatic sigh you’d ever heard from a grown man who regularly fought crime in spandex.

“She said no.”

You blinked. “Who said no?”

“My wife,” he muttered, pointing accusingly at the screen. “I finally got the proposal event to trigger after a week of feeding her favorite foods, buying her every gift, and making sure our compatibility was maxed out. I even followed what some losers said on Reddit. And she said no.”

You had to bite your lip hard to keep from laughing.

“Dick… it’s a Mii.”

“She’s not just a Mii,” he protested, sitting up straighter, eyes wide with betrayal. “That’s you. I made her look exactly like you - same smile, same little swing when she stands. I even gave her your favourite colour sweater. And she looked me dead in the eyes and said ‘I’m not ready’ with that sad little animation.”

He flopped back dramatically, throwing an arm over his face like a Victorian maiden who’d been scorned.

“I’m in my own game and I still got rejected. This is emotional warfare.”

You finally lost the battle and laughed, climbing onto the couch and crawling into his lap. He immediately wrapped both arms around you like a koala, burying his face in your neck with a pitiful whine.

“Baby,” you cooed, trying and failing to sound sympathetic, “it’s a video game. The Miis have weird algorithms. Sometimes they just say no for no reason.”

“But I worked so hard,” he mumbled against your skin, voice muffled. “I made sure we had all the same hobbies. I gave her a beach ball accessory because you like the ocean. I even made sure our apartment had the fancy red couch you always pick in real life. And she still said no.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp the way he liked. He melted instantly, a soft little hum vibrating against your collarbone.

“You’re pouting,” you teased.

“I’m not pouting,” he pouted harder. “I’m mourning the future I thought we had in Tomodachi Life. We were supposed to get married, have a little Mii baby with your eyes and my hair, maybe even a dog. Now I have to start the whole relationship over again. Do you know how long the dating phase takes when they keep saying ‘let’s just be friends’?”

You bit your lip again, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Dick Grayson, you fight actual supervillains on a weekly basis. You’ve been shot, stabbed, thrown off buildings - and you’re this upset because a cartoon version of me wouldn’t marry your cartoon self?”

He pulled back just enough to give you the most betrayed look you’d ever seen on his face. Those big blue eyes were actually glistening.

“Yes. Exactly. Because even pixel-you doesn’t want me. What does that say about real-you?”

You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “It says that pixel-me has terrible taste and clearly needs better programming. Real-me thinks you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her.”

His expression softened, but the pout was still lingering at the edges. “Prove it.”

You leaned in and kissed him - slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that made his shoulders relax and his arms tighten around your waist. When you pulled back, his eyes were half-lidded and warm.

“Better?” you asked.

“A little,” he mumbled, chasing your lips for another quick peck. “But I’m still emotionally scarred. I might need cuddles. And maybe you feeding me ice cream while I restart the whole relationship arc.”

You laughed, pressing your forehead against his. “You’re such a dramatic baby.”

“I’m your dramatic baby,” he corrected, grinning now. “Who spent a week trying to get you to marry him in a video game because the real version is still the best thing in his life.”

Your heart did a ridiculous little flip. You kissed him again, softer this time, then rested your head on his shoulder.

“Tell you what,” you said, voice warm with affection. “Tomorrow we’ll restart the game together. I’ll help you max out the compatibility. And when you propose again, I promise pixel-me will say yes this time.”

Dick’s arms squeezed you tighter, a happy little hum escaping him. “Deal. But only if you wear the cheerleader outfit in real life while we play.”

You lightly smacked his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple, “but I’m your impossible.”

Outside, the city hummed on. Inside, Dick Grayson - acrobat, hero, leader - pouted like a kicked puppy over a video game rejection while you curled in his lap and fed him ice cream straight from the tub.

And somehow, it was the most perfect night you’d had in weeks.