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You’re Dick Grayson. 

You’re tortured, your identity is revealed to the world, and then you’re killed. Right after that, everyone you care about cries over you because they think you’re dead. Then your dad beats you up and tells you that you have to go undercover to protect the people you love. You know that people are going to be mad at you for it, and you’re not sure they’re going to understand why you’re doing this thing you really don’t want to do. 

You tell your dad that your relationship with him will never be the same because of this. You’ll never be “his boy” again. Your dad tells you it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. It hurts you almost as much as the next punch does. 

So you go do your mission. It’s hard because you don’t have your usual support system to help you get through it. All you have is a little device that you sometimes call your dad on, and then one day you don’t even have that because your dad stops answering, and you don’t know why. You ask him, no, you beg him to let you come back home because you did what you came there to do, and you don’t know what you’re supposed to do next, but more than anything, you just want to come home. 

To make matters worse, you’re confronted by the man who murdered you, and he happily reminds you of this all while trying to take kryptonite from you. He also shows you that the technology you’re using while undercover can control your body. Now you know you can’t trust anybody, including yourself. 

You decide, fuck it, and go back home because you’re sick of this undercover shit. More importantly, you don’t know if your dad is dead or if something bad happened that forced him to abandon you. 

When you get home, you find out that your dad has amnesia and doesn’t remember you. Your brothers spit accusing words at you for lying to them even though your dad is the one who forced your hand on the issue. One of them punches you because he’s so mad at you for pretending to be dead. You don’t know how to explain to either of them that you really did die. At this point, you’re not sure they would even care. 

You go to see one of your best friends next, and when you try to explain things to her, she tells you you’re a disappointment. She doesn’t understand how hard you fought your dad to avoid doing all of this in the first place. She doesn’t understand that people, including your dad, took advantage of you when you were physically, mentally, and emotionally fragile. You know she doesn’t know all of this, but it doesn’t matter. 

It still hurts. 

And then… and then there’s your youngest kid brother. Your Robin. Your heart stops when you see him because what? He’s alive? You’re frozen in shock, but your Robin isn’t. He flips into your arms and, suddenly, you’re hugging him. He’s warm and alive, and there’s no mistaking that this is your Robin. This is your kid. And your kid isn’t like the others. He’s just as thrilled to see you as you are to see him. You hug him hard enough to hurt, and your cheek is pressed tightly against his. It’s everything you wanted, and you don’t think anything can beat this feeling. 

You’re proven wrong when your kids says, “I missed you,” in a voice that’s incredibly sincere and full of pure, unadulterated happiness. 

I love you, you think while closing your eyes and gripping him even tighter. 

What comes out of your mouth is, “I know, kiddo. Me too. Me too.”

Young Justice as Troubled Birds

Kaldur:

Dick:

Wally:

Conner:

M'gann:

Artemis:

And finally, everyone:

“You’re my best friend” were Dick’s words. He could never decide if he took comfort in them or not, unsure of the context in which his soulmate would say them. As he got older, he learned to love them. The words stretched up his right leg, and his mom had told him it meant his soulmate was a runner. In his teenage years he found Wally west who said his exact words just minutes before Dick had said his own “I would do anything for you. Anything.” Which were written right over Wally’s heart.

“You are the coolest person I’ve ever met” were Cass’s words, written on her chest. She didn’t know what they meant for the majority of her life, only learning what they meant and what they were when she was deep in her teenage years. She carried the secret silent fear that her soulmate had already said her words, and she would never know. That was, until Stephanie said them one night in the Clocktower. She had said Steph’s words a month before without knowing it, and Steph was delighted to show her the words “my Batgril” written on the back of her hand.

“I hate you so much” were Jason’s words. He never understood them. If these were supposed to be the words his soulmate said when they fell in love with him, why did they express just the opposite? His father had used the words against him. Had told him even his soulmate would hate him. All the pain the words on his bicep had caused him, he was more than shocked when they were said by Roy on a night of hanging out as a joke, and even more shocked when Roy had shown him the words Jason had said to him two years before on his inner thigh reading “You’re Roy Fucking Harper, you are so much stronger than this. I know you can beat it.”

“You know you want me” were Tim’s words. They went along the under side of his jaw, into his hairline, and he hated them for so long. His soulmate was clearly arrogant and not worth his time if those were really the first words they would say to him after falling in love. Or that’s what he thought, until Kon said them, and Tim knew he was only saying them because he wanted a Tim to want him. Kon’s words delicately written spiraling down his arm, around his wrist, and to his hand was Tim’s immediate response of “you’d be an idiot if you thought I didn’t.”

“Gotham doesn’t deserve a light like you” were Duke’s words. Duke had ignored the words on his bicep for most of his life, knowing he had no interest in finding a romantic partner. Jason had once commented that his soulmate might be an archer like his, but he had begged thought about it farther than that. Then Connor had whispered his words while they were lying awake on the floor, their teammates snoring around them, and he wondered what he was supposed to do. A few years later, after Duke had found proper closure for his parents and fully settled into his new life, he finally said the words that stretched vertically down Connor’s back. “I’m ready now. I hope you still are too.”

“I believe in you, please just believe in me” were Damian’s words. He hadn’t known what to think of them for a very long time. They were not bad by any means, but knowing the line of work he would be in, they were not good either. In reverse to Tim’s, Damian’s words written on him chest were actually the response to the words he would say to Jon when he was fifteen, after Jon had finally gotten back to the right age and come back to him. “I can’t lose you again,” was written across Jon’s collarbones.

“If you think I’m ever letting you go you’re insane” were Barbara’s words. They were written so they circled her stomach, the end and beginning meeting at a point above her spine on her back. She had been devastated when woke up in the hospital, sure the bullet had ruined her words as well as her legs. The only relife in the hospital that day was when she realized her words had been perfectly spaced so the bullet didn’t touch them. Dinah said the words to her in response to Babs’s words that wrapped around her throat saying “please save yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“I love you and I hate it more than anything” were Bruce’s words. They started on his ring finger and made their way down to spiral around his wrist. The words had brought his family pain for a long time, but he had learned to become indifferent to them by the tenth anniversary of his parents’ deaths. When Jason trustee him enough to show his words, Bruce hand pulled off his glove and done the same him hopes to bring his new son comfort. He knew who his soulmate was, had for five years by that point. While he had been toweling off after a shower on Watchtower, he had seen Hal’s bare back and knew. The words “you’re Hal Jordan. If you can’t do this, then do no one can. I believe in you” were written in a way that almost formed wings on his back. Bruce remembered very clearly when he had said those words to him on the mission earlier that day. Hal didn’t say his words until a couple years into Tim being Robin.

Merry Christmas.

This is part of the @damijonsecretsanta for @wisdom-walks-alone 

I hope you like it.

My twitter

Personalmente quería que conservara la faldita xD pero adoré mucho el diseño de Damian uvu sobre todo por sus pompones en la cabeza xD

Hi, for the prompts, could you do number six and sladick? Thank you!!!

My pleasure! Thank you for your prompt ❤️

"Please," Dick murmurs, and bites back whatever request he might have had behind a knuckle. Slade pauses, his hands on Dick's knees, thumbs stroking the soft skin there in idle circles as he admires the young man spread out beneath him. "Speak up, little bird," Slade instructs, and reaches a hand down to grab himself, guiding his crown up the cleft of Dick's ass. Dick shivers on the sheets. "Be gentle, please." Slade huffs a voiceless laugh, amusement singing alongside his arousal. "One might think this was your first time, Grayson." The flush that settles like a bruise, deep and red over Dick's cheeks, speaks louder than any confession. Slade stills. "Grayson?"

Prompt me again!

The Three Laws of Fandom

If you wish to take part in any fandom, you need to accept and respect these three laws.

If you aren’t able to do that, then you need to realise that your actions are making fandom unsafe for creators. That you are stifling creativity.

Like vaccination, fandom only works if everyone respects these rules. Creators need to be free to make their fanart, fanfics and all other content without fear of being harassed or concern-trolled for their creative choices, no matter whether you happen to like that content or not.

The First Law of Fandom

Don’t Like; Don’t Read (DL;DR)

It is up to you what you see online. It is not anyone else’s place to tell you what you should or should not consume in terms of content; it is not up to anyone else to police the internet so that you do not see things you do not like. At the same time, it is not up to YOU to police fandom to protect yourself or anyone else, real or hypothetical.

There are tools out there to help protect you if you have triggers or squicks. Learn to use them, and to take care of your own mental health. If you are consuming fan-made content and you find that you are disliking it - STOP.

The Second Law of Fandom

Your Kink Is Not My Kink (YKINMK)

Simply put, this means that everyone likes different things. It’s not up to you to determine what creators are allowed to create. It’s not up to you to police fandom. 

If you don’t like something, you can post meta about it or create contrarian content yourself, seek to convert other fans to your way of thinking.  

But you have no right to say to any creator “I do not like this, therefore you should not create it. Nobody should like this. It should not exist.”

It’s not up to you to decide what other people are allowed to like or not like, to create or not to create. That’s censorship. Don’t do it.

The Third Law of Fandom

Ship And Let Ship (SALS)

Much (though not all) fandom is about shipping. There are as many possible ships as there are fans, maybe more. You may have an OTP (One True Pairing), you may have a NOTP, that pairing that makes you want to barf at the very thought of its existence.

It’s not up to you to police ships or to determine what other people are allowed to ship. Just because you find that one particular ship problematic or disgusting, does not mean that other people are not allowed to explore its possibilities in their fanworks.

You are free to create contrarian content, to write meta about why a particular ship is repulsive, to discuss it endlessly on your private blog with like-minded persons.

It is not appropriate to harass creators about their ships, it is not appropriate to demand they do not create any more fanworks about those ships, or that they create fanwork only in a manner that you deem appropriate.

These three laws add up to the following:

You are not paying for fanworks content, and you have no rights to it other than to choose to consume it, or not consume it. If you do choose to consume it, do not then attack the creator if it wasn’t to your taste. That’s the height of bad manners.

Be courteous in fandom. It makes the whole experience better for all of us.

The question is: why do people not share the artwork of their favorite creators? Stuff they like?

There has been post after post complaining how the dynamics and the like/reblog ratio on tumblr has shifted drastically over the past few years. Where people used to reblog heavily over liking the new ratio is often times 1:4 to even 1:6 reblogs to likes per post.

Don’t you know how devastating that is?

Imagine working on something for hours, days, weeks or even months. You put in on the Internet and people nod to it and pass by. No further encouragement. Nothing. At best it gets stolen on a different platform and someone else gets the praise for it.

Reblogs are the equivalent of saying ”Hey guys! This person did something amazing that I like! Check them out!“ Likes don’t get validated by the algorithm. Only reblogs matter. No wonder people are walking out and finding other media as Twitter or IG. Their ratios aren’t great, but better than tumblr.

If you have the audacity to cry about content creators abandoning their blogs because they feel unheard, you’re most likely part of the problem.

Creators of all sorts feel discouraged from creating more as their content doesn’t get seen as tumblrs algorithm and new guidelines simply fuck them over. Reblogs expose them to new audiences and new possible fans.

The only reasons why people don’t (immediately) reblog I can think of are

A) people liking stuff to place them later in a queue/reblog them

B) people want NSFW stuff hidden from their blogs

Even then, case a) is a strong one, case b) flimsy at best. You do realize that you can create more than one blog? Make an NSFW one? Tumblr isn’t like Instagram where you have to compete to comply for a certain aesthetics and where you have to fight for followers and sponsorships.

You have this huge platform where people do their craft for free and you’re not even willing to share it.

Do not engage with this post just to add shitty arguments.

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La luz de la luna

Brilla en el cerezo,

El búho llora.