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It's Not Illegal to Lie Here in Agony by Mooncruxed_Madness
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, White Collar (TV 2009)
24 Dec 2025
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Summary
When you are a vigilante, there tend to be good days and bad days. When you have DIED, there are a lot more bad days. Which is really inconvenient when you are deep undercover.
Or: Peter panics about his CI committing crimes and then panics that his CI is hurt and then panics about this person his CI knows.
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
04 Jan 2026
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
Peter should not be so nervous about going a day without seeing his CI.
Neal called in sick. And he actually sounded like he wasn’t well. He is probably just holed up in his flat eating soup with a stuffy nose. It’s fine. Totally fine.
Peter is going to go check.
-“Neal!” Peter shouts as he forces his way past the door and strides into the flat. There is no one in the kitchen, or back by the hall, or on the balcony. Panic is just beginning to well up in Peter’s throat when he turns and spots a figure pushing off of the bed.
For a brief moment, Peter is about to get angry. He can’t see a single thing wrong with his CI, why would he have called off work today? Just because they finally wrapped up a tough case doesn’t excuse Neal to a day off. Peter is about to say all of this. Then Neal’s knees buckle and Peter is sprinting across the apartment to keep the younger man from collapsing to the floor.
“Neal,” Peter says again, far quieter this time. Far more urgently. There is a sheen of sweat on Neal’s forehead and his eyes are glazed with pain. Peter sits them both down on the bed, his alarm mounting when Neal leans limply against him. “Neal, what is going on? Where are you hurt?” Peter demands. He still can’t see anything wrong, no hidden injury that could be causing this. Is Neal truly ill?
“Phone,” the CI huffs out, voice broken and raw. He nods weakly towards the device sitting on the bedside table. It isn’t FBI issue. If Peter wasn’t so horribly worried, he would have far more of a problem with that. As it is, he just grabs the phone and hands it to Neal, silently begging the younger man for some sort of explanation. Even the barest detail would do.
Peter gets a barebones detail, one that is completely useless to him and this situation. He watches as Neal opens his contacts to reveal three names: Big Bird, Coffee Gremlin, Overprotective Father Figure. Before Peter can ask, Neal is pressing the first name and placing the phone on speaker. The person on the other end picks up after only three rings.
“Little Wing? What is it?”
Peter narrows his eyes at the phone. That isn’t Mozzie. In fact, that isn’t the voice of anyone he has met before. This is a new player. One that sounds on the edge of panic from a mere phone call.
“Bad day,” Neal practically whispers. The words mean little to Peter, but everything to the other person. The next time he speaks, it is with hardened resolve.
-“Who are you to him?” Peter demands, even as he takes a step back to let the man through the door.
“His brother,” the man answers automatically. He closes his eyes briefly like he is realizing he just said something he shouldn’t. Then he forges ahead with steel in his voice. “Not by blood. But when has that ever mattered, outside the lineage of kings?”
Peter has no response to that. Neal has a brother? Biological or not, this is a huge development.
The man (Neal’s brother!) strides into the living room and falls to his knees beside Neal. He shakes his shoulder, oh so very gently, and Neal blinks awake with an agonized grimace.
“What is wrong?” Peter whispers, knowing that his wife, who is tucked half behind the doorway to the kitchen, is also listening carefully. Probably with a hand ready to call for backup should the need arise.
The man glances back at Peter with clear consideration. Then he looks back at Neal, gives the slightest edge of a smile, and finally answers the question.
“Neal… faced a lot as a child. He healed from it all. But his body doesn’t always remember that.”
Peter blanches, mind reeling as the man takes a bottle of medicine from his bag and coaxes Neal to take it. What could have happened for lingering pain to cause such a reaction? Who did this to Peter’s friend? How often does Neal have to face this? How often in prison was he laid low with agony because he told no one?
“Agent.” Peter snaps out of his spiral to meet the gaze of Neal’s brother. “Don’t blame yourself for this. This is just how Neal is. He wouldn’t have told a single soul if he didn’t have to.”
“Is that meant to be reassuring?” Peter says brokenly.
“Of a sort,” the man smiles, a cocky grin that is so very much like Neal’s. “It means that you are close enough that he is no longer trying to hide.”
There is a long pause after that. While Peter realizes that this guy- this guy is right. If Neal has been hiding this his whole life, he could have found a way to hide it from Peter for longer. But he didn’t.
“Peter?” Neal croaks, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room. Then he grins, the light that is always present in his eyes shining as brightly as ever. “How glad are you that I’m not doing anything illegal?”
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Type Advantage by fallenpetals
Fandoms: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Red & Green & Blue & Yellow | Pokemon Red Green Blue Yellow Versions, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
09 Sep 2020
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Summary
With some encouragement from the Alolan Champion, Green finally decides to confess his feelings towards his rival.
or
green impulsively decides to confess to red because a child called him a pussy and he is NOT a pussy
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Why is functioning so hard? by blue_seer
Fandom Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
06 May 2025
Summary
Red and Blue as they go on with their lives, just being themselves, attempting to function both myself and with each other. But, functioning is so hard.
I just wanted to add that every time Red "says" something it's in sign language. In the fics from Red's POV he always refers to it as signed like him saying 'I signed.' but Blue's POV says 'said' most of the time because I feel like that's what he would refer it to. Just hoping to not cause any confusion.
- Words:
- 41,021
- Works:
- 6
- Bookmarks:
- 18
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
13 Nov 2025
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To Hear From You Again by WriterzBlock
Fandoms: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Red & Green & Blue & Yellow | Pokemon Red Green Blue Yellow Versions
12 Mar 2022
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Summary
It's been six years since Red disappeared, and Blue has finally heard that he might still be alive on Mt. Silver. Knowing that it was his words that drove him there, Blue packs up and makes the journey to right his wrongs. But he doesn't know how dangerous the mountain can truly be.
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Cuddling Another Man’s Clothing Does NOT Make Me Gay by Creature_Screecher
Fandoms: Alien Stage (Web Series)
10 Oct 2025
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Summary
Till was happy they felt comfortable enough around him to be all lovey like that. It just makes him feel more…physically underappreciated…
Or
Touch starved Till cuddles Ivan’s hoodie
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Tags
Summary
After Sua's death in round one, the staff was clearing out her things when they found five envelopes, each addressed to different Alien Stage participants she was fond of. They were never delivered.
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Tim and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by QueenoftheArchives
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types
12 Mar 2025
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Summary
Tim’s day was going pretty poorly even before Ra’s sent him flowers. First, he went to bed approximately an hour before he was torn out of it by his blaring alarm, purely because he had been a good Samaritan and helped Jason with a case. Jason hadn’t thanked him, but then again Jason hadn’t threatened murder, either, which for him was practically an invitation to brunch.
The hour of sleep, unfortunately, was almost worse than getting nothing at all, because instead of powering through, the brief rest allowed his body to figure out that was all it was getting and promptly punished him with a pounding headache. Then at Starbucks some idiot employee had forgotten the two extra expresso shots in his usual, so he was both late to the office and caffeine-deprived. By the time he saw the flowers, he was thoroughly pissed.
Then Damian showed up.
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Tags
Summary
Tim Drake has never celebrated his birthday; he won't this year, and he won't the next. He's fine with it, he swears he is.
Or: Tim Drake spirals in his loneliness and wishes he was as lovable as his siblings.
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Tags
Summary
robin comes out to Steve, then Steve comes out to Robin :)
Series
- Part 2 of Steddie childhood friends au
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
13 Oct 2025
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
"...but Tammy Thompson's a girl?"
Robin smiles at him sadly.
"Steve."
oh.
"Oh."
Oh.
"I, uh." Steve paused, swallowing. He's never told anyone about Eddie before. It's never been safe, but with Robin...
"I had a Tammy Thompson, too, ya know. When I was a kid. " He leans his head back against the stall door, avoiding eye contact.
To Steve, Eddie's always meant half melted ice cream and promises and whiskey flavoured kisses. But to Eddie...Steve didn't know what he meant. Nothing, probably.
"Like way back, before Tommy and Carol or any of the basketball guys," he sighed. "There was Eddie."
"Munson?" Steve nodded, and she laughed a bit manically.
"You're telling me," she giggled, "your Tammy Thompson was Eddie God damn Munson?"
Steve chuckles as much as he can with his numerous head injuries.
"Yeah, Eddie. We met like...in kindergarten, I think? I was waiting for my dad to pick me up, and he showed me this," he laughed, waving his hand. "toad, or frog or whatever, and then we were like, attached at the hip. We were best friend for years, man, we were kinda like Mike and Will-" he frowns, the movement tugging at the fresh scabs on his face. "Well - I guess you never knew them before, cause they're being all weird this summer and Mike's being a little asshole, and like, I kinda get the feeling they're eachother's Tammy Thompson, ya know-" he cut himself off. "Whatever. We were always hanging out, man, seriously. He basically lived at my house whenever his parents got bad, and we would share a bed and everything, and he was just so-" Steve smiled sadly. "So himself, ya know? He was always so kind, like one time he cried because he stepped on an ant, and I guess...I guess I kinda fell a bit in love with him."
It's the first time he said it, first time he's even let himself realize it. He was in love with Eddie and there was jack shit he could do about it.
He lifted his head to see Robin staring at him, a complicated expression on her face. He could see the dried tear tracks, and felt a stab of guilt that it was him that did that, that made her think he could ever hate her.
"So...what happened? Because I don't really see you two hanging out much these days,"
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Tags
Summary
Tim!Neal is staking out a warehouse for a magical artifact.
JJ wants to know were he is and how he ended up here.Series
- Part 7 of My DCU/White Collar crossovers
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Tags
Summary
He tried. He kept trying. He reached out, again and again, but no one was reaching back. No one noticed.
Until, eventually, he couldn't try anymore.
It was all as it should be.
Bruce had become a better father. A better man.
But not everything could change.
That, Tim thought, was why Bruce never called him his son.
Because at the end of the day, even if Tim considered him his father, he would never be Bruce’s son.
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Tags
Summary
Rewrite of the lawsuit episode when Buck sees Station 118 at the grocery store
I want Buck to stand up for himself more; his character needs some development in the “stop fucking with me” area
Love all the characters, no purposeful character bashing except for the plotSeries
- Part 3 of Make a deal? break your heart.
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
05 Sep 2025
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
“I’m tired of letting people walk over me, I’m tired of waiting for somebody to actually see me.” Buck glanced at Chim, who still wasn’t looking at him. He moved to walk past Cap and Eddie's carts, cutting towards the front doors of the store. As he passed, he shot one last glance at Eddie, who looked frustrated. Caps' eyes were watching Buck as he moved past him, but Buck didn’t bother to meet his gaze.
Buck exited the store, fresh air meeting his face. The parking lot was busy, people bustling around, cars honking at each other as they fought over spaces. Buck didn’t look behind him; he knew the 118 was watching him leave, but he couldn’t care less.
That conversation was final. Buck stood his ground and watched the distance between him and his friends grow larger. He knew that by walking away after he said what he said, they wouldn’t reach out again. He knew he’d never hear from Eddie again, unless by some miracle Cap calmed him down.
Buck climbed into his jeep, watching the front doors of the store in his rearview, but nobody exited. Nobody followed him.
“And that’s that on that,” Buck mutters, starting his car and leaving.
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Tags
Summary
Eddie presses the fabric drenched in peroxide to Buck’s arm causing him to double over. His hand finds the arm resting on his thigh and surrounds Eddie’s wrist with a death grip while his head falls forward onto Eddie’s shoulder.
“Fuck,” he grits through his teeth.
Eddie’s breath hitches. He tries to move but he’s frozen. Buck is groaning and wriggling against the sting, leaning into Eddie as if he’s the only thing that can keep him upright. Eddie can feel Buck’s breath ghosting his skin, the sheen of sweat on his forehead soaking through Eddie’s thinned out gray t-shirt. The grip on Eddie’s wrist is tight, right on the edge of becoming painful but not quite there yet.
He feels like he’s floating, yet he has never felt more grounded.
OR that bellyconrad wound cleaning scene but make it buddie
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
05 Sep 2025
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
Buck, though. That was the hardest thing he had to deal with.
Buck, who broke the lease on his apartment to move into Eddie’s house and make his life easier.
Buck, who insisted the Diazes needed to have their house back, packed all of his belongings into a storage unit ten minutes down the road, and immediately went searching for a new place.
Buck, who is now a month into sleeping on Eddie’s couch every night because he can’t find a house that fits him well enough to actually leave.
Those might be more of Eddie’s thoughts than Buck’s.
The last month of living with Christopher and Buck under the same roof has been eye-opening to say the least. Eddie got used to Buck’s presence in the house immediately, probably too quickly if he thinks about it for too long. He revels in the warmth that envelopes him as soon as he walks into the house knowing his son and the one person who knows him better than anyone ever has are down the hall.
Buck seems to feel different. He’s still talking about finding a new place constantly, going to showings every time they have a day off, and the most recent development—riding the bike he had only ever used as decoration for hours at a time.
Eddie hates it. The more comfortable he gets with their living arrangements, the further Buck pulls away. In all honesty, Eddie wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. Just the three of them in the house, Buck’s kitchen appliances scattering the counter, his clothes mixed in with Eddie’s, him next to Eddie.
Buck and Eddie share everything. They always have. Chores, food, a kid . They could share a house, a bedroom. They should .
But Buck doesn’t want to. And now he’s going on daily bike rides just to avoid being alone with Eddie. Maybe Eddie showed his cards too clearly and it scared Buck. Though he hasn’t explicitly said anything about wanting Buck to stay with them forever, he’s sure it’s obvious in the way he’s been acting. He was the first to suggest Buck stay with them while house hunting. He had stopped suppressing his eye rolls every time Buck mentioned another showing he attended. Buck has probably picked up on what that meant which is what pushed him to run so far in the opposite direction.
-“No it’s not,” Christopher shoots back, "Nothing about this is normal. You guys aren’t talking and you both get all… weird and sad when the other person leaves the room.”
Eddie flushes at this and silently curses his kid for being so damn observant. He thinks Buck will respond with some quick reassurance that avoids actually addressing the obvious truth pointed out by the fourteen-year-old, but Chris continues before he can.
It sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “And you keep talking about moving. Like it’s no big deal.”
“Hey,” Eddie hears shuffling and can envision Buck dropping down in front of Christopher’s designated spot at their kitchen table. “It is a big deal. I know that. I think I’ve just been trying to act like it wasn’t so it didn’t feel like one.”
“I don’t want you to move,” Chris admits. For the second time today, Eddie’s heart breaks. His son was brave enough to say the words that had been on the tip of his own tongue for weeks. Words he’s been too scared to voice, hoping they could be one of those unsaid things Buck just picks up on because he knows Eddie so well.
Apparently, he had failed. Because the next thing he hears is a sad, “I don’t either, kid.”
Buck doesn’t want to leave. Buck doesn’t want to leave .
“But,” he continues, “I can’t stay here forever. I don’t think that’s what your dad wants.”
And that cannot be further from the truth. Eddie wants him everywhere. All the time.
“Yes it is.” At least Chris knows that. “And even if he didn’t, it’s two to one. He’s outnumbered.”
“It’s his house, Chris.”
“And mine!” he counters, “And it should be yours too. It is yours.”
Buck stops for a moment. “I can’t sleep on the couch forever.”
Chris, ever the problem solver, poses a solution. “You can share with Dad. Half your stuff is already in there anyway. Or I could get a bigger bed and you could have my room. I’ll sleep on the couch, I don’t care, just don’t leave.”
He’s begging. Eddie has half a mind to run into the kitchen and join his son. He’s not above grovelling.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay . Just because I don’t live here doesn’t mean I won’t still see you. I’ll be over all the time, just like I used to,” Buck tries to cheer him up.
“Not if you and Dad are still weird,” Chris says under his breath.
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First introductions by Dakota_is_silly
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Daredevil (TV), Moon Knight (TV 2022)
22 May 2025
Tags
Summary
Peter gets hurt, it shows up on the news, and team red/the nyc vigilantes show up to the avengers compound
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
05 Sep 2025
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
Tony stark was prepared for a lot of things.
He was prepared for alien invasions, robot invasions, national disasters, nuclear war—any catastrophe you could think of.
He was, however, not prepared for a car speeding far over the limit to rapidly approach the compound whilst blaring a mix of hard rock and Chappell roan. He looked out the window with a frown as FRIDAY alerted him, still keeping a half-eye on Peter, who was still not fully conscious as Natasha and Steve explained to the kid how he got hurt and what had happened.
“FRIDAY, can you be a dear and identify the passengers in the car?” He asked in confusion, the live feed only showing the driver, a seemingly Latino man, angrily yelling to the backseat, which was invisible to the camera. Steve frowned at him, but Tony just shrugged, waiting for FRIDAY to respond as the AI did her job. “It appears that the driver is called Jake Lockley, with the aliases of Marc Spector and Steven grant. The backseat of the car seems to be inhibited by a man named Matthew Murdock, and Frank Castle.”
Peter made a noise as FRIDAY rattled of the names, Tony’s face paling slightly as Natasha tensed up. “Frank castle? As in, Frank Castle the Punisher?” Steve questioned, already reaching for his shield. “Correct, captain Rogers. I am unable to find any information regarding Jake Lockley, but mister Murdock happens to be a lawyer located in Hell’s Kitchen, known for cases such as the Wilson Fisk Trial.” The AI continued, and Tony sucked in a worried breath as the car parked in front of the compound, looking down with mild curiosity as to what on earth these people were doing here.
A man with a cane and red glasses walked up to the door, ringing the doorbell. “Let it through Friday” Tony mumbled, pulling up the live feed as FRIDAY connected them through. “Hello? Can I help you guys, or are you on a roadtrip gone wrong?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms as the man smiled. “Hello, mr stark I presume? We’re here for a friend, my name is Matt Murdock.” Tony frowned slightly, looking back at Natasha who was peering over his shoulder to watch, just shrugging with an interested look.
“A friend?” He asked, disbelief evident in his voice as he heard some faint arguing. “-no, we are not breaking the door down Frank. Just let me-“ Murdock got pushed out of the way by the driver, who looked at the camera with a crooked smile. “Hey amigos, if you could open the door, we can consider explaining, but we gotta see the little araño” Lockley spoke as Steve let out a confused noise. “Araño? Isn’t that spider?” Tony raised an eyebrow at Steve, but Natasha nodded. “Yes. Are they here for peter?” The spy asked, glancing back at the life feed.
”I’ll ask… Are you guys here for spiderman?” Tony turned his attention back to the camera feed, growing increasingly more confused by every second. “Yeah, the kid ‘s here, ain’t he? Saw him get hurt on the news, ‘sumed he’d be here.” The punisher replied gruffly, seeming pissed off at the fact they hadn’t been let in yet. Peter made another noise, trying to sit up, but Steve quickly pushed him back down with a hint of worry.
”W’s that ‘ncle Frank?” The kid murmured drowsily, eyes clenched shut at the bright light. Tony made Friday lower the light percentage a bit, as Natasha tilted her head curiously. “You mean Frank castle? You know him, паук?” The woman asked, crouching down next to Peter’s bed as the boy nodded. “Mhuh, wh’t happened? ‘S Matt here?” Tony watched in confusion for a moment, before turning back to the camera feed, which showed Lockley and Murdock arguing whilst Castle glared at the camera. “..let them in, Fri” he sighed defeatedly, shutting off the feed as FRIDAY opened the door.
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Tags
Summary
A mysterious letter brings questions.
Series
- Part 155 of 2024 -365 prompts
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Tags
Summary
Theo takes Gabe's pain.
Series
- Part 2 of Thiam Drabbles
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Ghost of a Bird by FadedLilly06
Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
17 Jul 2025
Tags
Summary
As Dick's body falters and secrets unravel, he wonders if he'll ever be human enough for Wally to stay.
Series
- Part 4 of DC Oneshots
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
11 Aug 2025
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
Dick stood in the living room, suddenly unsure what to do with himself. The stillness felt foreign.
He moved without thinking, gathering empty cups, crumpling napkins, folding the blanket someone had knocked off the couch. It was habit—one of the only things that still felt normal. Still human.
But even now, his limbs felt wrong. Distant. Like he was operating them by remote. His hands trembled when he picked up the pizza box, and he stared at it for a moment too long before realizing what he was doing.
His chest was tight. His head fuzzy.
He was here, but also… not.
Dissociating.
That was the word Tim had used once. Dick hadn’t wanted to ask what it meant.
“Hey.”
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Dick flinched—violently.
The box in his hand hit the floor with a thud, crusts and grease-stained paper skidding across the hardwood.
He turned sharply to see Wally staring at him, stunned.
“I—I didn’t mean—” Dick started, then laughed, a little too high-pitched. “Ninja reflexes, right? Sorry. You startled me.”
Wally didn’t smile.
“Dick,” he said. “What’s going on?”
Dick’s stomach dropped.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. You’ve been off all night. Hell, all week. Every few weeks, it’s the same thing. You get tired, twitchy, cold, and then you pretend everything’s fine until it gets worse. I’m not doing this again. I want the truth.”
Dick bent down to grab the pizza box. “I told you. I’ve just been tired. Stress. It’s not—”
“No.” Wally’s voice was firm now. “No more bullshit. I love you, Dick, but I’m not an idiot. I can see you falling apart, and you keep shutting me out like I don’t matter.”
“That’s not fair,” Dick said, rising to his feet, pulse pounding in his ears.
“What’s not fair is watching the person I love crash and burn and act like I’m crazy for noticing.”
“I’m not—”
“Then tell me the truth!” Wally snapped. “Just once. Let me in, Dick! I don’t want this fake version of you. I want you. The real you.”
Dick’s vision blurred, but not from tears. His heart felt like it was grinding against his ribs, hollow and loud. He wanted to explain. He wanted to scream.
But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t tell Wally that the real him was dead. That the only thing keeping him upright was liquid metal in his veins and the force of pure denial.
So he did what he always did.
He laughed.
-The silence hit like a body blow.
Wally froze. He blinked once. Twice.
“What?”
Dick didn’t repeat it. He couldn’t. His body wouldn’t cooperate. But the words had landed, heavy and real, hanging in the air like a weight they couldn’t unsee.
“I—Dick, what do you mean?” Wally’s voice was careful, quiet. “You’re not... Do you mean you’re a Meta?”
Dick stared up at him, barely blinking. The lights buzzed overhead. He could feel every inch of his cold skin pressed to Wally’s warmth. The contrast made him ache. Made him remember.
He shook his head.
Not like them. Not like M’gann or Kaldur or Conner. Not a friend with a quirk of DNA or alien blood. No. What he was— what he’d become —was something else.
Something wrong.
Wally watched him, uncertain. His grip didn’t loosen.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally, voice soft. “You think I care about that? Half our team’s not human. You know that, right?”
But Dick just shook his head again. Still no words. Still no explanation.
He hated this. Hated how cold he felt. How small. He burrowed closer to Wally’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He was trembling now, whether from cold or fear or exhaustion, he didn’t know.
“Okay,” Wally said, adjusting his hold, brushing the sweat-damp hair back from Dick’s forehead. “Okay. We’ll figure this out. Just tell me what you need.”
Dick’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “...Bruce.”
The name was a ghost.
Wally stilled.
Of course.
Dick had been spiraling for weeks, but ever since their last fight, Bruce hadn’t been in the picture. Dick hadn’t gone to the Manor, hadn’t checked in. He’d mentioned Bruce less and less, and when he did, his voice was colder.
It clicked.
This wasn’t just about secrets. This wasn’t just about pushing Wally away.
This was about Bruce.
Wally’s jaw clenched. “Okay,” he said again. “I’ll go to the Manor. I’ll get this fixed.”
Dick didn’t respond.
Didn’t argue. Didn’t protest.
Just pressed closer, shivering, burying his face in the crook of Wally’s neck like he could crawl into him and stay there. He didn’t care that Wally was about to leave. He didn’t want to let go.
Wally gently tugged at his shoulder. “Babe, I have to go. You need help. You need him. ”
But Dick didn’t move.
Didn’t acknowledge it.
Didn’t care.
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Tags
Summary
Dick and Wally accidentally fall asleep cuddling. The team won't let them live it down.
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
11 Aug 2025
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
Golden sunlight streamed into the Tower’s living room, casting the warm glow that stretched across the walls and bathed everything it touched, including the two heroes who were very much not made for couch-sharing, now tangled together in sleep. The only sound breaking the stillness was the soft, steady rhythm of their breathing.
Dick stirred faintly, shifting against the cushions before a slow realization hit him: he was still in his suit. Not ideal, but that wasn’t even the real issue at the time. The real issue was the weight resting on his chest. Soft ginger hair tickled his chin, and his own hand, somehow, had come to rest just above it.
He froze. He was screwed.
His heart started beating so fast that he was scared he’d accidentally wake him up. There was no way he could face the mortifying reality of waking his friend up like this, not without losing whatever scraps of dignity he had left. So, after a long, quiet mental scream, he did the only thing he could think of: he shut his eyes again and forced himself to stay still. Sleep would be safer.
It helped that it was, somehow, incredibly comfortable, the warmth, the quiet, the way his hand seemed to fit right where it was, like it belonged there. Like the body curled up on top of him did too.
Peaceful. Easy. Too easy.
-"Don’t mind me," was the warning Dick barely registered, just before the unmistakable click of a camera shutter snapped through the quiet. His eyes flew open, and he immediately reached out to grab the phone, but it was too late. Gar was already backing away, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
"Gar-" Dick hissed, trying to sit up, but quickly realized that wasn't an option, not with Wally still sprawled across his chest like a blanket.
Wally stirred, mumbling something incoherent as he shifted slightly, rubbing against Dick in the process and somehow managing to snuggle closer. Then came a long yawn before he finally blinked his eyes open, only to meet Dick’s very wide, very panicked stare.
That might have been fine… if they’d been alone. But they weren’t.
Wally turned his head slowly and was met with the sight of nearly the entire team standing in the living room, watching them in varying degrees of amusement and confusion
“Why is everyone staring?” he asked, groggy.
“This is too good.” Donna said brightly.
Wally jolted awake before even fully realising what was happening, scrambling to sit up and nearly knocking Dick off the couch.
“I- we fell asleep after the movie. Long day.” Wally stammered, hair a mess.
“You always cuddle during movies ?” Said Vic upon entering the room, looking entirely unimpressed and unconvinced.
“I think it is very sweet!” Kori added cheerfully, sipping from her mug.
Dick glanced from his teammates to Wally, trying to keep his expression neutral, despite the heat rising to his face. God, he could feel how red his cheeks were, but he prayed it wasn’t as obvious as it felt. He was a grown man, god damn it. This kind of flustered, heartsick nonsense? He never acted like this with any of the people he'd dated. Of course it had to be his best friend since childhood who managed to make him feel like some awkward teenager with a hopeless crush, making a fool of himself in front of his team.
“Just a nap… and unconscious proximity.” Wally said and Dick buried his face in one hand.
Vic leaned over to Gar. “Yeah, you owe me.” Then simply left.
“Please,” Dick said, standing up now, rubbing the back of his neck like it might erase the last ten minutes from reality. “Can we not do this right now?”
“Well,” Donna said, smirking, “if you wanted privacy, you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the most public part of the tower.”
-
Tags
Summary
On a snowy afternoon, Batman has a sniffling Tim over for dinner and learns more about him.
Series
- Part 3 of I Hear You Watching
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
30 Jul 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
“So they didn’t know Joker?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“But you do.”
“We’ve crossed paths.”
“It’s more than that. I’m sure you could shed some light on the fact. How do you know him?”
“Why does it matter how I…” Tim wants to say know , but he can’t say know because tense is important, has a dozen repercussions . Clearing his throat, he finishes. “What does it matter how I knew him? It’s not related to whatever he’s doing right now.” Or if it is, it’s tangential enough that Tim can say he’s not at all involved in the main objectives of the operation.
“I’d like some context is all. You know all these things, and then you know Joker, but you haven’t explained how or why.” Bruce pauses. “What are you writing?”
“Nothing.”
He looks at the pages. All of the words are mostly English, a few other common languages that Bruce also speaks. Yet none of them go together. It’s a perplexing syntax and construction. Bruce can’t decipher a thing from it, yet Tim seems to be able to read back on his notes.
“It’s just small things.” Turning the page, Tim decides to stop beating around things. He figures the more he says up front, the less they’ll try to dig into him later. “I met him when he brought down the Court.”
Bruce looks up from the notebook abruptly. “The Court of Owls?”
Tim nods.
“And what happened?”
“He thought he wanted a talon, but he didn’t,” which is true.
“Why?”
“They’re too much trouble.”
-
Tags
Summary
usually it ends up with till playing with his guitar.
usually, it ends up with ivan listening to him or singing along.
never in his life would he be confessing his love, however.
Bookmarked by brain_ded_666
26 Jul 2025
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
Instead of the blank walls of his room, it was Till’s band posters and photographs of their friends on his wall. Ivan had his eyes closed as he lay in the other’s bed. Instead of silent hallways, it was Till who strummed a melody, playing with the different cords on the floor.
Ivan’s discarded book sat face down on the soft sheets. Something he was absentmindedly reading. Once Till gave up on drafting an essay, he brought out the guitar for a break. Obviously, Ivan needed to give his full attention to him. It was comforting, even when the music was random, or loud, or sporadic. Even then, it was Till, and whatever is about him is comforting to Ivan. Home, perhaps.
He hummed along once Till found a consistency he could predict. It was something mellow—something full of yearning Ivan couldn't comprehend where it came from. Not for Mizi, not for a long time; but for whom?
Although singing wasn’t Ivan’s forte, Till had always encouraged him to sing along. It was some bullshit about how good he sounded, despite the one who was the singer out of the two of them. Well, he had always liked to humour Till.
“Do you fall quiet ‘cause I’m in the mud? Is your heart violent ‘cause it got a cut?” Ivan sang, thinking about the times they fought with each other. He thought of the times when Till would get stuck in his head when they were too harsh—when Ivan was too harsh. He softened his voice, “I’ve been carving your name on the walls of my brain. You say it’s my fault ‘cause I call you late.”
Ivan opened his eyes but didn’t look in Till’s direction, opting to stare at the ceiling. “Is it reciprocated? I can never get you out of my head,” he fully avoided eye contact, now. It would be good for Ivan’s mental health and dignity if the bed swallowed him whole after singing that. What came over him?
Till surprised him by singing the next part, following Ivan’s lead on the song. “Is it okay that you’re fucking with me once again? Is it reciprocated? I can never get you out of my head.” There are rare times when he would sing this softly, and they were for the songs made to be sung by Ivan. He wondered, but it leaned more on hope . Did this mean something?
Till strummed silently as Ivan thought of the next verse. How honest could he go before it became real? How far could he go before it revealed the already cracking walls to his heart? “Circling life like it’s a fishbowl… playing with fire—feel like we’re on a roll.” He felt his mouth form a smirk as he sang the last line, sarcasm falling out.
Till chuckled faintly, and Ivan’s eyes almost snapped towards the sound, like a dog to a bell. “I was running my hands through your hair yesterday.” The other signed forlornly, “I know it was your fault ‘cause you didn’t stay.”
Ivan coughed in embarrassment. Till was singing about Ivan’s sudden leave when he started to play with his hair, touching him in all of the soft ways he couldn’t comprehend that it would happen to him one day. Overwhelmed, he jumped off of Till’s couch and blabbered some excuse about how Sua had needed him for a school project. They both fully knew that she was out of the city.
His ears burned, and he continued to the chorus, cursing Till mentally. “Is it reciprocated? I can never get you out of my head.” Ivan took a chance and turned his head. He looked at Till, who was already staring back, the teal eyes that he yearned to have on his face for all these years.
“Is it okay that you’re fucking with me once again?” The silver-headed looked unamused, but the soft look didn’t leave. “Is it reciprocated? I can never get you out of my head,” he sang, perhaps lovingly, but why? To Ivan? He sat up, leaning his body on the headboard as Till finished the song, ending it with the instrumental.
They sat in silence, ever so loud once the music stopped. He heard his heart beating, his intake of air, the lucid feeling of fabric under his palms, and the tension. Oh, god. The tension—the feeling of being dissected and examined with a single gaze. Is this what it was like when someone saw you, too?
He was being delusional, of course. What was he on? It could be the post-song clarity. Yeah, that was it.