Red Robin!Tim: Can’t Stop Shaking.

Peter Parker my favorite heat seeking missile

art based on Existential Crisis Mode on Ao3 by @luciaintheskyainthi. Why draw actual scenes from the media when i can draw them in love and happy instead?

(also, art progress alert? lessgo?)

Tim: Bruce, I’m gay

Bruce: oh

Tim: oh?

Bruce: I mean you being gay sort of ruins the entire edgy thing the batfamily has going on

Tim: what?

Bruce: because you’re gay.. you’re happy..??

Tim: when Dick uses the term gay he means something different than me

Dick, poking head into room: no we mean the same thing, I just didn’t want to explain it to him

Tim: no Bruce, I’m bisexual, I’m into men and woman

Bruce: oh, congrats? Me too?

Tim: WHAT?!

Dick: Superman was my co parent at one point I definitely saw them kiss

Tim: again, WHAT?!

DAY 15

GIVE IT UP FOR DAY 15

jason todd as my experience getting glasses:

Jason: *leans over to tim* what does that billboard say? tim: tim: damn, you blind as fuck jason: DID I ASK FOR THE SASS OR THE FUCKING BILLBOARD

jason: i can't find the paprika- alfred: it's right there, master jason stephanie: do you need your eyes checked? jason: i made an appointment seven months ago and it's still gonna be like five weeks from now stephL: i guess you're . . . . jason: don't you fucking say it, blondie steph: *whispers* blind as a bat jason: *running at her* im going to kill you

jason: what does that say? bruce: *frowns* you can't read that? jason: no i can im just asking---OBVIOUSLY FUCKING NOT

bruce: hey can you read that menu for damian, he's too short to see it jason: no i can't bruce: why not? tim: he's a blind old man jason: and people wonder why i tried to blow all y'all up

jason: i knew my years of obsessively reading no matter the light source or proximity to my face would simeday bite me in the ass. but i really thought it would be like, me walking off a building with my nose in a book or some shit. not having my eyeballs rebel against me. bruce: this is concerning on very many levels

jason: *goes to eye appointment* doctor: so when was your last visit to the eye doctor? jason: jason: um. never. doctor: . . . and, uh, regular doctor? do you have any paperwork from that at least? jason: *laughs* no. doctor: . . . birth certificate? jason: what do i look like, an adult? doctor: *staring up at the brick powerhouse in front of him* . . . yes? jason: *slaps knee* that's a good one. hang on, lemme call my brother. he can probably help seeing as when i was recently dead he was the one that filed all my paperwork and kept my birth certificate and all that shit. doctor: *having an aneurysm* recently dead-

jason: *reading letters off as doctor puts them on the screen* z . . . h . . . . p . . . q? . . . r . . . doctor: *winces* jason: you know i can still see your face right doctor: jason: why are we even doing this. im 100% sure i need the fucking glasses.

jason: *texting roy later* guess who's eyes worked just enough to see the supresssed winces on the doctors faces as they read off every other letter incorrectly roy: HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH jason: your lack of sympathy is appalling

jason: *sends photo of himself in new glasses* roy: you're giving off . . . librarian in small town who knows everyone and their grandmother's grandmother but when asked not a single person in the town could tell your name jason: that was better than literally any other compliment anyone could have given me and i love you forever

jason: *walsk in wearing glasses* tim: ooooooooooo nerd jason: i hate this family

Uh lesbians

as much as i love angst i do also adore familial league of assassins shit, and since i keep seeing them on my tiktok fyp i cant stop thinking about those videos of idiot teenagers in military training being. teenagers. and thinking of jason and damian. just those two having weird little gimmicks and traditions that confuse the absolute fuck out of the rest of the family from their time at the league.

damian will refer to grapes as ‘assassination implements’ because of that time jason tried to throw one at him, missed, hit ra’s in the back of the head, and to avoid getting out of trouble gaslit him into believing it must have been some kind of dart that hit him from a coup attempt. ra’s went into lockdown and had the entire base searched and jason’s been lying about it for a year, nodding along whenever ra’s brings up the ‘irritating failure that escaped capture’.

nanda parbat had a specific bar that a lot of the assassins would go to when off-duty for a break, but damian wasn’t allowed because talia said he was too young so jason and a couple other loa workers dressed him up in fake facial hair and convinced the bartender he was just a really short old guy to get him in, and since then whenever they talk about something damian’s done that he wasn’t supposed to do they say it was ‘old man brutus’ that did it. bruce has no idea who the fuck brutus is or why two of his sons find his existence so amusing.

whenever the assassins were fucking around on loa grounds they would have a specific low-down gravely tone of voice that when any of them saw talia or ra’s approach, they would use to warn the rest of the group by saying ‘al ghul’ in that tone to indicate everyone had to straighten up and act like they were training. damian can copy that tone perfectly, and will use that voice when saying non-sensical words like ‘ooby-dooby’ and ‘birch tree’ because the tone makes jason instinctively straight up and whirl around like a soldier hearing the word ‘sergeant’. it works every fucking time.

one of damian’s tutors and jason’s mission colleague hated coconut milk with a fucking passion and would rant about it every time it was brought up in conversation. a lot of the guys would take bets on how long she could go talking about it and then purposely brought it up to set her off as a game. every time anyone around the loa base was seen with coconut milk somebody would respond ‘what would eden say if she saw you with that?’. tim dick and bruce do not know who eden is or why they hate coconut milk and at this point they’re too scared to ask.

all im saying is the loa becomes much funnier if we consider it just to be a very strict assassin boarding school that jason attended and damian grew up in.

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!! »

mixing concrete with chicken stock instead of water to give it a richer flavor profile

i do love the idea of the Justice League finding out Batman’s identity and the fact that he’s actually just a tired vigilante dad and immediately discrediting his spooky-scary-intimidating reputation, and Bruce just being devastated about it. he worked so hard on that reputation, on that respect, and it’s all down the drain just like that. nobody flinches away from his glare anymore, because they’ve seen him glare at Red Hood and get a spoonful of mashed potato flung into his face for the effort. nobody cares about his threats anymore, because he tried to threaten Red Robin to go home and rest one time and Tim just giggled at him deliriously before mocking his tone and stealing his coffee. they’ve seen him pick a splinter out of a whining Nightwing’s finger mid-meeting. Damian once called him a condomless harlot to his face when he told him not to bring his swords onto the watchtower. he’s lost control.

he decides he wants the fear factor back and in all his brilliant genius, he decides the best way to go about that is to invite the league round for a fancy dinner party, specifically so he can use all his ‘brucie wayne’ acting skills to channel the essence of every creepy-rich-guy-in-haunted-manor movie he has ever seen in his life. it is the only time his kids have been fully onboard and willing to contribute to one of his plans without any complaints. they almost seemed more eager to pull it off than he was.

they spend the entire day making the manor look old and slightly abandoned, much to Alfred’s displeasure, and ensure that the only lighting is a fuck ton of candles, just enough to light the halls while leaving the corners and edges shadowy and ominous. Damian is allowed to have some of his more ‘skittery’ pets roam the manor freely for the night, causing occasional scritches and scratches to come from the ceilings. all of the kids dress in their best funeral attire, apart from Jason who gleefully pulls on an old white shirt stained with blood from when Tim crashed through his window with a stab wound, requesting a medkit.

when the league arrive they’re greeted by all the kids lined up on the staircase, staring at them blankly and ominously, while Bruce gives them all a large grin and ushers them into the creepy looking dining room. the league are somewhat nervous.

during the dinner the kids act completely different than the league have seen them in-mask. polite, cordial, and refusing to show an ounce of emotion. they pick at their food and only speak in vague sentences that refer to various horrific events of their past. Bruce has never been prouder.

the first close call they have to breaking character is when Bruce presents a bottle of red wine without any kind of label. as he pours a slightly disturbed Diana a glass, she asks where he got it from. Bruce happily gestures to Jason as says ‘my second eldest procured it especially for you, earlier today.’

Diana looks across the table at where Jason is grinning eerily at her by candlelight, still visibly stained with blood, eyes glowing slightly green. she pales, and Tim knows he can’t watch her shakily lift the glass to her lips without bursting out laughing. he refuses to be the one who fucks up first, so he dramatically stands up and declares he must ‘go feed the experiments’ before storming out the room. ‘the experiments’ are in reference to the pen of rabbits outside that glow in the dark because Damian rescued them from a testing facility, but given the environmental context it sounds much more sinister.

Jason joins him by the pen to also start wheeze-crying in private about 20 minutes later, because apparently after Oliver Queen had finished with his bbq rib, Damian had leaned over and without blinking stared into his eyes to blankly state ‘i would love to feed your bones to my animal friends, if you don’t need them anymore.’ and from the other end of the table Jason had snorted wine up his nose from how hard he was trying not to break.

amazingly, they never break character, although it came pretty close when after hearing another skitter from somewhere above, Stephanie climbed up from the table into the crystal chandelier and deftly returned to present the table with a large tarantula cradled in her hands, to which Damian stood up and declared, ‘ah, dessert! i will help pennyworth prepare it.’ before taking the animal and leaving to put his beloved spider back in it’s enclosure. the league genuinely seemed to be under the impression they were about to be served a tarantula-based desert, and upon seeing their faces at this realisation Dick had to pretend he’d dropped a fork on the ground so he could duck by Bruce’s chair and stuff a napkin in his mouth while he got his laughter under control. Bruce pats his shaking son’s back below the table cloth, determinedly staring at their guests with that same creepy-grin he’d kept up the entire night.

every member of the league makes their excuses to leave early, much to Bruce’s exaggerated disappointment. the second the last of them is out the door Alfred turns to face the family and says ‘mission accomplished. now get this manor back to it’s proper state.’ and they have the spend the rest of the night cleaning.

totally worth it, in Bruce’s mind. none of the JL will look him in the eye for weeks afterwards, and it was honestly the most successful attempt at family bonding they’d ever had. he wonders if they should make it a monthly thing. It’s also how they find out Damian’s a fucking theatre kid with a gift for the arts which is another revelation in of itself

I love the headcanon that Jason writes fanfiction and the funniest part of it to me is how his author notes would take the ao3 curse to a whole new level

A/N: here you go guys. Sorry it’s a couple days late, I spent the entirety of yesterday forcing soup and fever-reducers down my brothers throat while he actively told me he wasn’t sick

comments: omg is your brother okay?? Jason, responding: yeah he’s fine now. I took my eyes off him for a second, he downed a coffee and it fucking healed him?? Idefk. comments: wtf

Jason: yo sorry this was a little rushed, my sister’s ballet recital was crashed by the joker and I spent the night helping with the relief efforts comments: damn your siblings are living crazy lives Jason: you don’t know the half of it

Jason: this chapter was a week late, yeah. Sorry about that. I died again.