Latest Posts by dragonboygobrrrrr - Page 6

Everybody know the scene in The Dark Knight where some idiot dresses like Batman and Bruce gets real pissed at him. Well it goes a little something like this:

Copycat Batman: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Batman: I’m not wearing hockey pads.

Alternatively:

Copycat Nightwing: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Nightwing: CAN YOU DO THIS? *insane quadruple flip off the roof with his middle finger out.*

Obviously not Red Hood: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Red Hood: I died.

Copycat Red Hood, mumbling: well obviously not.

Red Hood, cocking his gun: Wanna change that?

Copycat Red Robin: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Red Robin: Spandex isn’t usually something I wear on the regular. And that latex cowl isn’t doing you any favours either. While we’re at it- [proceeds to roast the shit out of the copycat until they’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t.]

Copycat Robin: What’s the difference between you and me!?

Robin, unsheathing his Katana: Run.

Copycat Robin: What?

Robin: If you care for your life you will know to flee. I will not give you another warning.

This

Our fandom forbearers did NOT suffer through Anne Rice, strikethrough, and other bullshit for fucking ACOTAR and Harry Potter fans to fucking ruin it for all of us by selling fanfiction. I am not losing novel length yaoi epics because some of you don't know how to act in fannish spaces and yes I do blame the booktokification of fanfic but I also blame those of you that treat fandom like content to consume and not a community to engage with.

Okay. New thought. Hear me out.

Jason with motorcycle.

Jason, motorcycle AND 'white girl' music.

A little like this:

Goon 1: Hurry up guys! We don' want boss waitn' to long!

Goon 5: Uh.. hey lads? What's that music? I ain't never hear California gurls playin' down h're.

Goon 1: ...

The sound of a motorcycles engine becomes louder, as well as the very noticable and very known lyrics of California gurls as well as a distinct voice singing it.

Goon 2: SHIT SHIT DUCK DOWN

All of the goon scramble to duck down and hide.

Goon 5: What? What is it? The goon whispers

As the sound becomes louder and louder, the engine of the motorcycle pauses for a while but soon continues on. The goons all let out a heavy breath, that was a close one.

Goon 6: Oh thank the Lord. I thought he found us for a second..

Jason standing like right behind them whispers into one of the goons ears: California girls-

And that's why if you hear California gurls playing in Gotham, you should run because it's the Red hood.

Now. You must be wondering, if Jason is with the goons.. where is the motorcycle? Well let's just say Tim had a fun time scaring the shit out of people.

Bruce walks into the kitchen one day at breakfast and sticks a golden star right on Dick’s forehead.

Silence overtakes all of his kids as they stare incredulously because what the actual fuck??

“B?” Dick questioned warily, going crossed eyed as he tried to stare at the star in his forehead.

“Congratulations Dickie, you have successfully made only five death threats to individuals this entire week.” Bruce said solemnly, patting Dick on the head before turning to face his other children.

“Unfortunately, I will not be giving out any more gold stars.” Bruce’s eyes gazed at his children, particularly staying on Jason and Damian for a second longer than anyone else’s.

“Wha-? What about me??” Duke protested, throwing down his fork, a small splatter of syrup splashing onto the new wood varnish.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Duke, I’m Batman.”

“Right.” Duke muttered, slumping back down in his chair. “Stupid pickpocketers, next time I’ll make sure they can’t squeal.”

“Father! I demand a recount!” Damian’s chair squeaked loudly as he shot up from it, his small face set in a stubborn frown so similar to Bruce’s. “Grayson made two death threats to thugs on patrol yesterday.”

“Fucking tattle tale!” Duck hissed, grabbing his forehead and scampering away from Bruce, just in case he tried to take away his good star.

Bruce nodded and looked thoughtful. “Hmm, seven death threats… I’ll allow it. However, seven has become the cap in order to get a gold star.”

“One for everyday of the week!” Jason grinned, his eyes zeroing in on a barely awake Tim. “And since I’m long past the threshold…” Bruce slapped him on the back of the head, making him curse.

Cass tugs on Bruce’s sleeve and points to herself, the silent question very loud. “No Cass, your whole existence is a threat but also Stephanie likes to talk.”

Cass clicks her tongue and sits back down, phone already in hand, probably texting Stephanie about her betrayal.

“Looks like Dick is winning.” Bruce stated, suppressing a smirk as all of his kids heads whipped around and stared at him. Of course they would take the bait, there were as competitive as he was.

Even Tim now looked mostly aware of what was happening.

“It’s a new week, good luck.” Bruce nodded, walking out of the dining room, a grin breaking out across his face as the room erupted with noise.

Damian: *peaks head above dining table* Baba

Bruce: *sighs, gives Damian the rest of his incredibly juicy fruit salad* Hn

Damian: *scampers off with bowl, Titus hot on his tracks*

Bruce: *watches with a faint smile, sipping on his water*

Bruce is totally a mom the way he just lets his kids take his food, just like my mom. They give him one look and Bruce is ready to feed them himself

The Robins are all, by nature and upbringing, independent and self-reliant. They want to prove that they can handle their own bad guy, even without Batman. And most of the time, they can.

Every now and then, though, there’s a bad guy who gets a lucky hit in, or times a hostage-taking situation just right. And Robin, instead of being terrified, gets to sit back and watch the beauty of a pissed-off Batman come in and take over.

Sometimes, pure joy isn’t drop kicking a bad guy in the face. Sometimes, pure joy is standing there and watching Batman introduce the guy’s face to seventeen new surfaces all in a row. It’s watching as the hand that hit you gets broken into a dozen pieces. It’s knowing that not only will Bruce handle this, he will make it hurt.

Dick, texting Wally: hey, patrol kinda boring tonight, do you want to play 20 questions?

Wally: yeah sure man, what's your favorite family meal?

Dick: triangles.

Dick: do you like boys?

Wally: yeah.... I... Came out to you first...

Dick: just checking. You free on Friday?

Wally: yeah?

Dick: good, I'll pick you up at 12. Bye.

Wally: ... Okay but our game? Hello??

Outside of the texts

Dick: I asked him out.

Barbara: saw, you technically didn't but better than you pinning for him all day. Good luck.

Dick: don't need it, I'm Dick Grayson, I got this.

Bruce: oh no, you don't, I said the same thing, you're gonna fail bud.

Dick, looks at Bruce funny: you are bad a pep talks.

Allen-west house hold

Wally: MOMMA HOW DO I KNOW HE ASKED ME OUT OR NOT!?

Iris, from the kitchen: WHAT THE TEXT SAY SWEETHEART?

Wally: IT SAYS "good, I'll pick you up at 12"!

Iris: HE'S TAKING YOU OUT ON A DATE BUT SHY A OUT IT! DRESS CASUAL.

Wally: THANKS MOMMA!

Barry: WHY NOBODY YELLING FOR ME FOR DATING ADVICE!

Wally: BECAUSE MOMMA FLIRTERD WITH YOU THE WHOLE TIME AND YOU WERE STUCK IN YOUR OWN HEAD, I NEED HELP NOT MORE PROBLEMS AND QUESTIONS!

Barry:

Barry: FAIR, ALSO WHY ARE YOU YELLING FROM YOUR BEDROOM YOU COULD HAVE SPEED DOWN HERE!

Wally: BECAUSE I'M EMBARRASSED!

THE SHIT (GOLD) YOU FIND IN THE OCEAN (YOUTUBE COMMENT’S SECTION)

"The sky was lonely, and you were the tail that I wanted."

happy snoggletog ❄️🐉

dadwave

merry christmas

Penelope: What kind of things did you do?

Odysseus proceeds to lay out all he did without lying and asks an important: Would you love me again, I'm not the man you knew?

Penelope: Did you... Did you sleep with specific women? I'm kind of cool if you did, eh.

Odysseus: I got trapped on an island with this crazy woman and she wouldn't let me leave. My moves weren't my own, she was a goddess and basically female Zeus... I was scared everyday and almost killed myself numerous times just to be home.

Penelope (thinking): Oh my Gods he's being completely honest with me. I actually have the best man for this time period.

After bed scene...

Penelope: Twenty years ain't nothing, we still young. Want to go out on a first date?

Odysseus (tears flowing): Yes... I would like that very much.

Aphrodite: I'm not crying, you are!

Ares (eating popcorn): I kind of am.

when there's trouble you know who to call .... ❕

Inconvenience

Bruce: Dick you cannot go around and kill the joker, we have rules-

Dick: fuck you! If I can’t kill him then I’ll make his life an inconvenience instead! Storms out of the cave

Bruce: ….why do I have a feeling that will strike more fear than anything I’ve ever done?

Tim: probably because Dick has a way of making even the smallest things terrifying.

Bruce: hn

I need more Tim protects his family from any racist, homophobic, what not comments.

Like Tim, who is white, non-religious, and queer takes all the negative comments towards him and just steers it past him. So people comment about him a lot, because he just doesn't care and lets it happen.

But then someone comments something about the color of Damian's and Dick's skin, the scarred face of Jason, a stereotype of Cass, called Duke a thug, talked bad about Bruce being a Jew? Oh just consider your life over with.

He will publicly humiliate you. He will grill into you so hard your bones will be scorched black. He will break your company down. He will make you bankrupt. He will expose all of your secrets. Ruin your marriage. Ruin your family. Ruin your image.

Mess with Tim Wayne all you want, but if you mess with the rest of the Waynes, just expect Janet Drake's sole child, her carbon copy, Tim Drake, to appear and put your life to shambles.

It is no joke that Tim Drake is far more protective of his family than Tim Wayne is of himself.

Janet and Jack Drake's forthcoming comes in the way of Tim Drake destroying your life entirely, digging up your secrets and uprooting your company at one small discriminatory comment towards his family.

Based off this post. funny doodles i took too seriously.

Jason (breaking into titians tower to kill Tim): square up

Tim (who holding a mug and the coffee pot): Hold on.

Precedes to chug the whole coffee pot then chucks it at Jason’s head.

The fight that ensures is the most feral, intense fight any of the Titian’s have ever seen.

Jason: You missed an opening there. You could have hit me when my chest was exposed.

Tim: Look at your foot work, I could have knocked you over.

Jason: Nice hit, if you commit more with the follow through then you’ll have more power.

The Titian’s are watching trying to decide if they should step in or sit back and enjoy the show.

Jason (is through to the ground and has Tim’s staff pointed at his neck): I’m impressed. You are pretty good for a replacement.

Tim: Well I have big shoes to fill.

Jason: Breakfast?

Tim: Pancakes?

Jason: Have strawberry syrup?

Then they get up, move to the kitchen like nothing happened and just start making pancakes.

Rex: So General Kenobi, how come you speak mando'a?

Obi-Wan: I've always been interested in the culture and I spent a year on Mandalore for a mission in my youth :)

Rex: I see, what about you, General Skywalker?

Anakin: Huh? Oh Obi-Wan used to drop me off in mando daycare when he went to get laid in little Keldabe, fun times, they taught me how to headbutt someone.

Tim, sprinting into Jason’s room, sticking in all directions, looking around with wide eyes.

Jason, on his bed reading a book: What the fuck are you doing?

Tim, quickly looking behind him and back at Jason’s bed: If he asks I’m not here.

Jason: What?

Tim, sprinting so fast he trips back and slides under semi under Jason’s bed. He doesn’t quite make it all the way through, instead having to awkwardly shuffle under: I’m. Not. Here.

Jason: What the fuck.

Dick, dressed in a suit but with a long worm-on-a-string around his neck: WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?

Jason, immediately pointing under the bed.

Dick, grabs something and yanking it out: FUCKER. WHERE ARE MY TIES.

Tim, already struggling: YOU GAVE ME PEPSI. I ASKED FOR COKE.

Dick: I HAVE A MEETING TODAY.

Tim: SHOULDVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT SOONER BITCH.

Jason, turns another page.

My child is growing wings under his skin and they look… pretty fully formed… like they’re about to burst out any minute

Do you know which hospital has better care for….alternative biology we’ll say

Or would I be better off getting him to a metropolis hospital in this case?

For the growth period we’ve been managing the pain for him pretty successfully with some pain killers and occulting between a heating pad and a cooling one but… idk somethings about to happen I know it

Good question. Gotham is getting better about (as you put it best) alternative biology. Probably ever since the Signal showed up and people remembered that metas exist. But I'd definitely still recommend going to Metropolis for this. I've got some friends at Knight Memorial who see cases like this pretty regularly. Keep at the heating and cooling routine and (depending on your kid's age), you can cycle between ibuprofen and tylenol as needed. Best of luck and let me know if you need anything. I'm not well read on wing development, but I'm happy to look into temporary housing out in Metropolis or to call in a favor with the good people of Knight Memorial. Stay safe out there

Mark Hamill - The Star Wars Holiday Special (1978)

Love TimBernKon bc usually ships have opposing dynamics but with those guys it’s just

Dick: Happy Chrismis!

Damian: What is Happening.

Tim: Is Chrismimth.

Damian: what are you fools-

Steph: Merry Crisis!

Damian: Father, they have lost their minds.

[All four stare at Bruce expectantly]

Bruce, sighing: Merry Crysler.

Dick: So, you know how I’m part of an online circus?

Jason: What the actual hell is an online circus?

Dick, exuberant: It’s like... an on-demand Cirque du Soleil! People book us for events—birthdays, concerts, whatever—and performers log in from all over the world.

Jason: ...so you have clowns.

Dick, visibly sweating: Well, it’s more than clowns! We have aerialists, jugglers, fire-eaters—

Jason, standing up, looming over Dick: But you have clowns.

Dick, desperate backpedal mode: Technically, yes. But they’re like artistic clowns. Highbrow. Minimal honking.

Jason: Minimal honking? You’re telling me there’s still honking?

Dick, defensive: Controlled honking. Tasteful honks only.

Jason, crossing his arms: Joker-level honks?

Dick, horrified: Joker doesn’t even have a clown permit! He’s not qualified.

Jason: He went to clown school.

Dick: No, he shot up a clown school. That’s different.

Jason, sitting back down: You know why this pisses me off.

Dick, quietly: Yeah, I do.

Jason: It’s weird, right?

Dick: Super weird.

Jason: Sometimes I feel like you should be more messed up about clowns. Like, my level of messed up.

Dick: I know, bud.

Jason: It’s just... I feel alone in this whole clown thing.

Dick: You’re not alone. Gotham as a whole has a no-clown policy. Did you know circus clowns refuse to work here?

Jason: Of course. Otherwise, your little e-circus would’ve been torched.

Dick: By Joker?

Jason, thinking about that one time he shot up a department store window for displaying clown shoes: Uh... yeah. Yeah, Joker.

Dick: Well, for what it’s worth, you’d be great in the online circus.

Jason, deadpan: You saying I’m a clown?

Dick, grinning: No, but you are a high-value performer. People would pay top dollar to see Red Hood juggle guns.

Jason, pulling a gun from his holster and spinning it effortlessly: You mean like this?

Dick, mock clapping: Bravo! Now add some honking, and you’re ready for the big leagues.

Jason, standing up, gun still in hand: You have three seconds to run.

Dick, already halfway out the door: for the record, I'm a performer, so this retreat is performative and just to keep you happy-slash-entertained

Jason: get out!

Christmas at Wayne Manor is usually hectic. With various arguments about varying topics and an inevitable snowball fight that ended with the four boys being draped in blankets in front of the fire because they were all out there in nothing but sweatpants.

Between serving rounds of hot chocolate and adding new logs to the fire, Alfred would be seen cleaning up the discarded tissue paper and scraps of wrapping paper that littered the floor.

That is until the year Bruce gave each one of his children weighted blankets, and the hours which in previous years had been flooded with shouting and shivering bodies were replaced with the sound of deep breathing.

—————————————————

The lack of noise coming from the drawing room was concerning as Bruce made his way back to the room after helping Alfred finish cleaning up the wrapping paper. Alfred was currently in the kitchen beginning preparations for Christmas dinner.

As he stepped into the room, bracing himself for a snowball to the face—because there’s no other way his children would be this quiet unless they were planning a sneak attack—but was surprised to find his children weren’t scheming as he had thought. Dick was sitting in front of the couch, Tim and Stephanie leaning their heads on either of his shoulders and Damian curled up on his lap, their weighted blankets draped over each of them while Jason laid on the couch under his own blanket. All of them were asleep.

Leaning against the doorframe, Bruce crossed his arms and watched the deep breathing of his kids, the soft music coming from the record player Dick had given to Alfred floating over to him.

“I believe you made a good decision for their gifts this year, Master Bruce,” Alfred said softly, coming to a stop beside him.

Bruce smiled. “I’m afraid Jason won’t be able to keep up his promise to help you with Christmas dinner this year, Alfred.”

“That’s alright, Master Bruce,” the butler replied. “Let them sleep. I do not think any of them have gotten this much sleep in a while.”

Bruce chuckled. Between regular villains of the week and the holiday schemes from a myriad of different villains, they had all been swamped on patrol.

“I’d offer to help, but I think we both know it’s for the best that I don’t,” Bruce said.

“I appreciate the thought nonetheless,” Alfred replied.

They stood there in silence for a moment.

Then, as Alfred turned to leave, Bruce said, “Merry Christmas, Alfred.”

“Merry Christmas, Master Bruce.”

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! I bring my followers a longish comic with some Damian feels, I hope you like it :)

Commission Info / Kofi (members get comics a week early)

Whenever Bruce can't do something as Batman he sends one of his kids in the cowl. Literally any of his kids. To deal with having to wear the cowl, they turn it into a game: will the justice league notice that Batman isn't the person under the mask?

Spoiler alert, they don't.

Somehow, the league never notices when it's not Bruce under the cowl, or at least that it's not the same person they all know.

Like never.

______

Hal: Hey Bats, you look taller today.

Jason, determined not to lose: hm

Hal, sensing danger and immediately backtracking: uh, that's not to say you don't usually look tall, I mean you just look taller today, um did you change your ear thingies?

Jason: *Batglare intensifies*

Hal: uh, I'm just gonna go

_______

Aquaman: you've been quiet this whole meeting, Batman, even for you.

Cass, currently wearing shoulder pads and absolutely insane platform boots: *a fim huff of breath*

Aquaman: right sorry, I forgot you were dealing with another mass break out from Arkham this week, you don't need to stay for the whole meeting. We know you probably know everything already anyway

Cass: *nods*

_____

Flash: Morning Batman. *zooms past*

Duke, absolutely befuddled:

Duke, quietly into his comm: you'd think the speedster would have the time to notice

The several batkids on the other side of the line: *laughing hysterically.*

Dick, wheezing: just do the thing where B tucks the lower half of his face into his cape like he's Dracula. You're doing great.

Bruce, from somewhere in the cave, actively giving up on the assumption that his coworkers have at least one working braincell between them: stop comparing me to Dracula, Dick

Talia walked over to Damian, her expression a mix of playful reprimand and maternal affection. After a brief pause, a smile broke on her face as she scooped up her ten-year-old son, wrapping him in a warm embrace and showering him with kisses. Damian barely had time to react before he found himself trapped in his mother’s affectionate onslaught, overwhelmed by the scent of her strong perfume.

Damian (embarrassed): I’d rather be stuck in an elevator with Clayface than deal with this… this is my life now. Why is she so smothering?

Talia (ignoring her son's complaining): Shush, let me love you, my sweet tifl! I haven't seen you in three months and this is me being better then my awful, awful, awful father.

Ra's Al Ghul (smoking from a cigarette): I am the reason you stopped being insane after what Nyssa put you through, but sure put the blame all on me.

Damian thrashed his legs in a vain attempt to escape while reaching out to his grandfather for help.

Damian (begging): Grandpa, help!

Ra's Al Ghul: Nope. She once kicked me in the crotch with a heel when I tried to scold her parenting. Bruce, you wanna give it a shot?

Bruce simply walked away, not saying a word. Faced with the relentless affection of his mother, Damian groaned as Talia continued to shower him with kisses.

Talia: You should be happy to have such a strong, powerful, highly skilled, and sweet woman as your momma!

Damian let out a dramatic whine, but he resigned himself to her embrace, knowing this was just part of being her son. For now, he was at her mercy.

Damian pressed an ice pack to his swollen eye, the aftermath of a dodgeball incident at school earlier that day. The gym teacher had thrown the ball at him for "asking too many questions"—except they weren't even playing dodgeball! Frustrated, he stewed over his options, realizing he couldn’t handle this alone; if he involved his brothers, they might end up getting arrested.

Damian (talking to himself, realization dawning): Wait a minute, my parents don’t even know how awful this gym teacher is! I’ve never told them, but that’s… not right. They should know, or this failed track star nut case will keep getting away with it. I can’t let this swollen eye be for nothing!

With a sigh, Damian removed the ice pack and pulled out his phone.

Damian (while snapping a picture of his injury): I hope they’re not disappointed in me for not fighting back.

He quickly sent the picture to both his mother and father in separate texts, captioned: Look what the gym teacher, Coach Marley did to me.

Talia, upon seeing the picture, spluttered tea all over her living room couch in shock. Her face turned an irate shade of red as she trembled with rage.

Talia: Oh, hell no!

Without a moment’s hesitation, she bolted from her seat, hopped onto a jet, and flew toward Gotham. Meanwhile, Bruce’s reaction was more restrained, though he nearly crushed his phone with his grip.

Tim (calmly, carefully taking the phone from Bruce): Bruce… Bruce, you need to breathe. Give me the phone; let’s keep this evidence.

Bruce growled in frustration but managed to take a deep breath, clearing his throat to contain his fury. School was closed, and it was too soon to go storming in.

Bruce: I need a night to work through this rage. If I go to the school now, I am going to shout a lot of hurtful things in her face because I can't hit a them!

Tim: That’s probably for the best. Do you need any of us to step in?

Bruce: No, I’ll handle this… but I have to call Talia. Damn it.

Tim: Do what you gotta do.

The next morning in her office, Principal Lynn sipped her coffee, reviewing reports, when she heard the sharp clacking of heels approaching. Suddenly, her door was kicked in, and Talia stormed inside, dragging the gym teacher along with her and tossing her onto the floor. The teacher barely appeared conscious and was crying heavily, bruised and battered.

Talia (pointing fiercely at the gym teacher): Explain to me why this harlot has been abusing my child and getting away with it!

Principal Lynn: I—

Talia (raising her voice): I paid you a significant amount to keep my son at this school, and you allowed her to throw dodgeballs at my child for talking?! Explain yourself, knavess!

Principal Lynn: Um, I can explain—

Just then, Bruce arrived, catching his breath as he took in the chaotic scene before him: the gym teacher on the floor, Talia standing over her, and Principal Lynn looking terrified.

Bruce: That… that harlot needs to be fired and arrested!

Talia: Thank you!

Principal Lynn: Right, on it. I’ll call the cops. Just don’t hurt me like you hurt her!

Talia: Call the cops, then!

Nervously, Principal Lynn grabbed the landline phone and dialed 911 while the gym teacher attempted to scramble to her feet. Talia, quick as a flash, delivered a punch to the teacher’s head, sending her crashing down again.