Ready, Aim, Fire!

I mostly write Batboys.Prompts CLOSED.

Apr 17

back when Tim was a 13yo brand-new Robin, Dick wanted his attention for a training exercise, so he said, ‘hey Tim, d’you have a sec?’

and Tim said ‘i have lots of secs!’ and is probably still not over it tbh


Apr 16
you don’t have to tell me my dog is the cutest, because i already know

you don’t have to tell me my dog is the cutest, because i already know


Apr 15

Anonymous asked: I think that you are a truly spectacular writer. I have been going through things that are testing my limits (but then again, who isn't?) and each time I feel low, I always read something you've written. Whether it's the headcanons, or fics, or anything--they always make me feel better. Like they give me a moment to catch my breath, ya know? Anyways, I hope everything is going well for you and I appreciate you and all that you do! Praying for you :) (even if you're not religious) take care

Thank you so much for your kind words.

I am sorry that you’re struggling, and I can’t tell you how humbled I am that my blog can help you even a little. I really hope things ease up for you soon <3


Anonymous asked: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

<3 <3 <3s to you too, Anon! Thank you. 


Anonymous asked: hi! I'm kinda new to the fandom but do you have any author recs? I'm into gen fic but all I know is that you and heartslogo are awesome.

Hello Anon! Sorry for the late response.

Off the top of my head, some excellent genfic writers are; ghostwingss, hauntedlittledoll, storiesintheashes and tigrislupa.

As for authors who write pairing fics but also some fantastic gen; anexorcist, infectedscrew, protagonistically, secretinternetbox, aaand winterysomnium.


secretinternetbox asked: NEEEAAAATOOOOOOOH! YOU'RE SO NEAT, OH!

this ask is so cute and i can’t omg


you just know Bruce Wayne was all, “okay Tim, it’s quiet time” when Tim was a tiny chatty Robin hanging around the Cave


Apr 12

"… Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Pretty long name for such a short kid."

"Who even asked you, Jason, God.”


Apr 8

jfc everything is so terrible


Anonymous asked: Prompt: 5 (tackle hug) with Jason and Damian. I don't have an account, that's why I'm anon. :)

Damian is already out of breath, legs pumping, heart racing. He wishes he was wearing his boots— a barefoot pursuit is not how he wants to be spending his evening.

But he knew the risks. He brought this on himself.

Behind him, Todd’s long legs make his stride look… effortless. He’s barely a step above a jog, and he’s still keeping pace with Damian. So he ducks his head, grits his teeth, and pushes that much harder to get a good burst of speed behind him.

And Todd is falling noticeably behind when Damian skates his way around the corner— hearing Father’s study door open, and the low-pitched, “What is going on out here?”

“Don’t ask questions when you don’t wanna know the answer,” Todd yells, apparently not stopping, and Damian hesitates. Wondering if it’s better for him to duck into a room and wait it out, or to keep running until he finds Pennyworth or Grayson to protect him (seeing how Father is apparently useless).

But he hesitates too long, toe snagging on the carpet, and Todd is almost at his back. He scrambles, tries to get his lead back, but the behemoth behind him reaches out a stupidly long arm and grabs him by the collar. Hauls him into the air and turns him around.

Dangling a few feet over the ground, held almost level with Todd’s face, Damian… scrunches up his face, in an expression of terror. He’s been practicing. Then, wondering if it’s more convincing with or without tears, he stammers fearfully, “You— you’re not gonna hit me, are you?”

And in Todd’s eyes, he sees the flicker of confusion, of guilt; it’s enough to buy him a second. Damian twists in his grip, then, kicking him in the shin.

“Jesus Christ,” Todd swears immediately, dropping him, and Damian starts to run again. From behind him, Todd calls, “I can’t believe I almost bought that, you shit.” His voice is strangled with– something. Rage or pain. Possibly laughter.

Damian doesn’t intend to stick around long enough to find out.

And somehow, when he glances behind him, Todd is still on his tail. 

He didn’t kick him hard enough.

The landing is in sight. And Todd is unlikely to attack him on the stairs, because firstly, there’s a much higher risk of injury, and Todd probably doesn’t want to deal with the fallout of that. Secondly, Pennyworth is very likely downstairs, and the closer Damian gets to him, the less likely Todd is to injure him. He clearly cares about Pennyworth’s opinion of him.

Hope surges in Damian’s chest, his legs carrying him closer and closer to possible salvation–

– when Todd dives, tackling him around the middle. They go sprawling to the carpet, the both of them, and roll twice, three times until they come to a stop.

Todd’s body is bracketing Damian’s and keeping him pinned, and Damian looks up at him, splutters, “What on earth, Sasquatch?” 

He’d been smiling before, but at that, Todd actually starts to laugh. Which, in Damian’s experience, is not a good sign. 

He is waiting for the fist. Part of him wants to cringe, to brace himself– the last time Todd had hit him, by accident, in a spar, it’d jarred his whole body. He had actually blacked out before he hit the mats, not that he’d admit it. The rest of him, though, wants to stick out his jaw, glare at Todd, and call him a couple of names. 

“Do you even know what a sasquatch is, or d’you just hear our dearest brothers call me that?” and then, deciding it doesn’t matter, he laughs again. Leaning in close, he says, “I was just tryin’ to be nice before. But then you had to go and be a tiny jerk about it, so now I gotta punish you.”

And then, very carefully, very deliberately, Todd shifts his weight. Adjusts them both. 

Then, he squeezes Damian in what is most definitely a hug. Reminiscent of Grayson’s, actually, with the notable difference that the threat of violence is tangible. He smells like cigarettes, and his arms are very warm and very muscular. A little like Father’s. 

He whispers, into the shell of Damian’s ear, “Now I know you’d rather a quick punch and be done with it. But big ole Batdad’d be pretty upset if I hit his precious lil Damian.” He squeezes again, far from hard enough to hurt. But firm enough that escape is impossible. “So see, giving you a sweet hug? Like this one? Gives me a whole bunch of big brother points. Even though we both know this is a worse punishment than you were ever expecting.”

“You are diabolical,” hisses Damian, trying to wriggle away and only succeeding in thumping against the floor.

“I know,” Todd murmurs, too gleeful by half. 

“You boys had better not be breaking anything,” Pennyworth’s voice warns, from somewhere downstairs.

And Todd doesn’t even break eye-contact when he calls back cheerfully, “Just Damian’s spirit!”

“Do carry on, then, sir.” And the man has the audacity to sound amused. He is a terrible excuse for a servant.

“Just so you know,” Todd tells him, conversationally. Like they aren’t smushed into the carpet locked in a threatening hug. “I’m not lettin’ go ’til you give me a decent hug.” 

“You can’t–“

Watch me, demon,” says Todd, settling in comfortably. “It’s fine, I’ve got all day.”

END.


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