While There Are A Lot Of Close Relationships Within The Batfam, One Of My Absolute Favorites Is Dick

Tim: Can you imagine the food they eat in jail? Bleh!

Dick: Don't need to imagine, it's disgusting.

Jason: When did you try prison food?!

Dick: When I was 8.

Tim, scoffing: If you commited a crime I'm pretty sure there'd be hundreds of articles about it, I didn't see any when I was researching you.

Dick: Oh! I didn't commit a crime.

Jason: Why the fuck would you be in Juvie if you didn't commit a crime?

Dick: Orphanages were full.

Everyone:

Jason: The hell?

Tim: I'm calling a lawyer, that has to be illegal.

Damian, in the vent: I can't believe this city's incompetence.

Dick: I can. Now get down here.

Damian: Fine.

Okay, so hear me out. There are species of animals that reject their offspring if they don’t “smell” right. Like something about the pheromones are off and thus the vibes are bad. You can’t be mine, you smell funny. Similarly, we know that hormones and neurochemical reactions play a large part in bonding between human babies and parents. Our brains are swimming in chemicals that have us looking at our squishy, decidedly odd-looking newborns and saying “it’s so cute, I wanna bite it.”

My dudes (gender neutral). My people. My fellow nerds. Superman initially rejecting his clone because he doesn’t smell right. The kid was in a soup of artificial, clone-making chemicals and he doesn’t smell like he should. But what the fuck is he supposed to smell like? Superman having no frame of reference for this crazy feeling, for this intense dislike of a person with his face, and struggling internally with it because he knows logically that this deep revulsion doesn’t make sense. Problem is, he physically can’t help it. Something about this kid makes his teeth itch and his fingers twitch.

Then the kid takes a shower and changes his clothes and oh. Why would I push him away? That’s my baby. Hate him? How could I hate my baby? My baby. My sweet, perfect, amazing angel baby. My baby. My baby. My baby. Mybabymybabymybabymybaby.

And it’s probably hilarious from the outside looking in, because Superman looked ready to light the kid on fire a minute ago and now he’s all gooey-eyed. No thoughts, just sappy smiles and burying his nose in the clone’s hair. He’s ready to pluck the moon from the sky and hang it on a string for his kid. It’s sweet and adorable.

It’s also completely, utterly terrifying. Seeing how quickly one of the strongest beings in the known universe fell victim to his own biology, how wildly the pendulum swung from one extreme to the other. Batman’s immediately planning a trip to the Fortress to gather intel on this reaction. How long does it last? Is it normal? Is it supposed to be like this? Does it have anything to do with the clone being a teenager and not a newborn? Would it be worse with a newborn? Does the League, does he need contingency plans for this?

And Superman—Clark recognizes the sudden shift, but can’t do a thing about it. He should be scared of how every concern in his mind gets swept away by this out-of-control hormonal response, but he doesn’t want to do a thing about it. He can’t help the smile plastered on his face when Kon—what a perfect name, a beautiful name for my baby, mybabymybabyMYbabymyBABYMYBABYMYBABYMYBABY—sighs contently in his sleep or scrunches his nose in disgust at new foods, new sensations.

Something in Clark’s eyes says “I don’t know what’s happening, help me,” but it quickly gets snuffed out by “I will flip this entire universe over if a single hair on my baby’s head is out of place.” And honestly? Yeah, it’s scary, but every parent he knows—Bruce included—totally gets it.

I glow pink in the night in my room 💖 ID is in alt text!

Dick fakes a polite charming laugh that all the Batkids have gotten wise to, and they consider it major bragging rights to be able to trip up Dick's façade and get him to break into a bone-chilling hyena cackle, particularly in front of rogues.

I only want the fab 5 (+ Kori later on) when they are absolutely insane about each other. The most ride and die you will ever find.

They will never hesitate to square up again anyone who says anything bad about their team mates (and best friends (and lovers)), consistently checking in with each other even (and especially) when they are not meant/ supposed to.

I want them so fucking codependent but also completely unaware bc what do you mean you don’t constantly update your friend group everytime anything happens. What do you mean you don’t just break into your best friends house and sleep in their bed with them when you feel sad. What do you mean you keep secrets from your friends. What do you mean you don’t join your friends when they shower so you can continue your conversation. What do you mean you don’t know where every single scare on your best friend comes from. What do you mean you don’t call their dad a stupid motherfucker to his face. What do you mean you don’t know everything about your best friends.

I want them to have so many inside jokes that they are basically speaking a different language. I want them to share clothes and makeup and accessories to the point where nobody really remembers who owned what first. ( I want everyone to wear the other people’s merch always)

I want them to speak about their siblings like they are shared between the five of them. I want Tim to ask Donna a question when he is too embarrassed to ask Dick, and Cassie to ask Dick when she doesn’t want Donna to know, etc.

I want the mentors to be the other people’s aunt and uncles. ( I want the mentors and adults in their life to have a group chat where they try and help each other keep track of what their kids are doing bc gods know they won’t just tell them, so whenever they have a sleepover or a mission in one persons city, they let’s the rest of the mentors know. I also want the mentors to constantly send ‘baby’ photos and videos of their ‘kids’ in the group chat)

I want the dating history within the group to be so fucking confusing that you need a collage level lecture to understand it from the outside.

I want all of them to be married to other titans, but nobody really remembers who is married to who, especially since most of them are married to multiple people. ( a mix of Vegas weddings, undercover missions that took a turn, space rituals and traditions they got court up in, bets that were won and lost, and very intense dnd campaigns)

I want their private group chat to have more encryptions and protections than pentagon and the batcomputer put together. I want the GC to be filled with Drunken voice notes, homemade memes, pictures that should never see the light of day, secrets and jokes that would get them into soooo much trouble.

I want them to bring one or two titans along to family and work events. I want people to bet on which of the friends will go with Roy vs who will go as Dicks date to the fancy Galas, bc you can bet your ass they will be there as arm candy on their arms. (Having your friends at the Gala is the only thing that makes going to these Galas bearable). I want them to sneak out every time and go to a random fast food restaurant.

I want their fighting styles to be so engrained in each other that it is impossible to figure out who thought who what, and which of them was the first person to introduce this move into the equation.

I want outsiders to look at them and be confused if one of the OG titans are standing alone without one of the other titans. Do you see the vision?

Once again thinking about the great joy that is Peter Parker accidentally giving off villain vibes

Current thoughts on that rn are some heroes trying to figure out some horrifying tech Oscorp has been putting out that’s going to cause so much catastrophe and through a series of events, Peter Parker gets pulled in to look at it

Peter just looks at it and immediately recognizes it and goes on this long winded speech about the beauty of the tech while everyone gets more and more uncomfortable

It eventually comes out that he personally worked on the original prototype before getting let go from Oscorp, and everyone’s tensing, thinking they’re about to have to fight a crazed scientist who wants this tech to go out, and they ask him why he was let go

Peter: Oh, because this tech is waaay too dangerous, I urged Norman to drop the project completely, even tried to get HR involved, but got fired instead, I mean, y’know, on paper they put a totally different reason to cover themselves, but it was obviously cause I went to HR 🙄

tim drake headcannons

- has dark circles under his eyes not even due to sleep deprivation, it’s just genetics. And every one always tell him to get more sleep but he’s like «  no I sleep 12 hours a day I just look like this! »

- googled « am I narcoleptic or just severely depressed » He never really figured that one out

- greatest skill is procrastinating, its not a problem if he’s good at it.

- plays piano

- will randomly ask Bruce “ are you mad at me” and then Bruce will say “ no of course not- why did you do something you shouldn’t have” and Tim’s like “ no I just wanted to check » cause he overthinks.

- eats and drinks most things out of mugs, his family or friends will tell him to stop drinking coffee and he’s like «  I’m eating goldfish, what do you think I’ve been chewing »

- has really big eyes, and kinda stares at people a lot without saying things so they are either thinking «  aww he’s so cute » or «  why is he looking at me, it’s like he’s staring into my soul, can he read my mind! Why is he still looking at me!! »

we've been living in this apartment for two months now, and while we've observed most of our new neighbours (my slavic Windowsill Watcher Grandmother gene already activated), I don't think they had the chance to see us often enough to recognise us yet.

I do know, however, from my observations, that the tiny funny dog upstairs is called Gucio. I've passed him once or twice during his walk and heard his owners use the name - and, while both the dog and his owners are oblivious to our existence, Gucio became an apt topic of discussion in our house. you know, we hear barking, ha, that's Gucio, he must be home alone again! or there's a stick left by the building door, that must have been brought by Gucio and he was forced to abandon it before entering! a household name, really.

yesterday as I was leaving to go to the store, walking down the narrow staircase, there he is! tiny funny looking dog, slightly startled by me suddenly appearing on the floor he just reached on his tiny funny looking legs.

"good morning Gucio!" I say joyfully, the most natural thing in the world.

well. remember that Gucio doesn't really know me. so he looks at me in the most flabbergasted way a dog can look at a person. he is positively aghast. agog! not sure how aware dogs are of their own names but he seemed genuinely puzzled at the apparent stretch of social convention.

and as I try to contain my laughter, I see his owner standing on the stairs below. the woman is sort of awkwardly frozen, speechless, and she looks at me.

"you... know each other?" she asks.

is that not the funniest way to phrase it. is this not the funniest question she could have asked. ma'am do you know my dog? you went to school together perhaps? you've met? do tell, are you old friends? maybe you worked together? you know each other, my dog and you? this dog? you know him? he knows you? he never mentioned you I'm afraid