dungeon meshi but they end up in the back rooms, a cursed idea that was eating away at my brain
It’s a real shame that I will never watch YJ cartoon because I heard it’s quite good. HOWEVER I simply CANNOT forgive what this did to Kon and his costume.
You mean to tell me they thought the leather jacket, spikes on the shoulders, punk cool costume with sunglasses and an undercut was too out-there fashion for kids and teens?
SO THEY GAVE HIM A BORING T-SHIRT?????
Bruce: Who is that?
Dick: A kid I met in Bludhaven.
Jason: Oh god, not you too.
Damian, whispering: Are we sure Richard isn't my biological brother?
Tim, also whispering: Yes... Maybe?
Jason, joining the conversation: The adoption gene got transferred through osmosis
Bruce: Where did you get them?
Dick: I was on patrol and they wanted to show me some flips.
Bruce: So they're an acrobat?
Dick: Yeah!
Bruce: Alfred!
Dick: Huh?
Alfred: I shall reinforce all the chandeliers.
Dick: Wait that's not necessary!
Everyone else: ???
Dick: Seriously they're only staying with me a couple days.
Bruce: DAYS?! Alfred order the newest chandeliers.
Alfred: Right away, Master Bruce.
Fanfic so good you gotta stop and scroll on social media to not get overwhelmed
Dick: You use to be so cute and tiny..
Jason: And you use to be cool. We both changed.
Dick: Wha-?! I'm still cool!!
Jason: Okay, 'officer Grayson'. Cops aren't cool.
Dick: THAT WAS A LONG TIME AGO
Jason: STILL FRESH IN MY MIND, PIG!
Dick: LET IT GO!
Jason: NO. YOU WERE THE ONE WHO SAID FUCK THE POLICE! THOSE WERE WORDS I LIVED BY!
Dick: OH MY GOD. YOURE THE ONLY ONE THAT STILL REMEMBERS THAT!
Tim, walking into the living room: I remember it.
Duke, from another room: I heard about it! You've lost 1000 aura man!
Cassandra, poking her head in: I've also heard about it.
Dick: EVERYONE SHUT UP.
Jason: Just like a cop to order people around like that, shameless.
Dick, groans: Fuuuuck-!
Dick: All of you are going to make me age like milk!
Damian, popping up behind him: Is it wrong to say it's too late for that?
Dick, practically shaking: Damian..I swear to God.
Steve, raised since childhood on a strict diet of tax forms, utility bills, and neatly labeled folders, handles Love with capital L the only way he knows how—logistically.
So the moment he realizes things with Eddie are serious-serious, he doesn’t make a big speech or even breathe a word.
He just quietly opens a joint savings account.
Then a trust fund.
Lists himself as Eddie’s emergency contact.
Buys a gold ring (simple, tasteful, suspiciously the right size). He knows Eddie likes silver, but that's not what it's for. Gold is in any case an investment in the future, if something happens.
And—because, well, they’ve survived four apocalypses—he updates his will.
Steve wrote it after Apocalypse #2.
The BMW had been bought with his money and, should anything happen, was legally designated to go to Dustin.
Everything else—his personal savings, the shared funds, and whatever compensation the government might cough up for the next end-of-the-world scenario—was to go to Eddie.
Nobody knows this but Steve. It’s filed in a folder marked “just in case”.
Eddie, on the other hand, doesn’t do paperwork.
When he realizes things are serious, he gives Steve his favorite band t-short. Then changes the tires on Steve’s BMW from summer to winter without being asked. Fixes the bookshelf Steve’s been threatening to burn for a month. And starts making him sandwiches in the morning — the kind his mom used to make for him, with just the right amount of mustard and that one slice of tomato Steve always forgets he likes. Uses his entire vocabulary of cute nicknames on Steve and comes up with a couple of new ones.
Miraculously, it works.
Because Eddie gets this strange, unfamiliar feeling of being safe. And Steve? Steve finally feels understood. And cared for, in a way he didn’t know he needed.
Tim seems like the type to have a Snapchat story dedicated to his crashouts
He frequently posts videos of himself yelling about the idiots he encounters in his daily life, and people live for it.
Tim, in his car: I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF BAD DRIVERS! IF YOU WANT TO DRIVE LIKE A PRE-SCHOOLER, THEN PULL UP IN THE LITTLE TYKES COZY COUPE, MOTHERFUCKER. I AM TWO SECONDS AWAY FROM REAR-ENDING YOU! AT LEAST THEN YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO GO THE FUCKING SPEED LIMIT
Tim, barely visible and whisper-shouting in a dark closet: If I have to deal with Lex Motherfucking Luthor one more time I might just have to commit a felony about it. Because what do you mean you "aren't familiar" with our DEI policy outline???? We've been doing business for years????? We've had this EXACT CONVERSATION, like, TEN TIMES--
Tim, not even bothering to find an empty room: I should have stayed an only child.
Dick’s voice offscreen: Huh?
Tim, deadpan: The only good outcome of having siblings is that if they threaten to kill me, I might actually get a fucking break —— assuming they can grow a spine long enough to actually make good on their threats, that is.
Dick, in the background: C’mon, Tim you guys just quit fighting— Damian, stop- DAMIAN
Damian, now in frame, making a spirited attempt to free himself from the upside-down hold he has been wrangled into by attacking Dick’s ankles: I only wish to give him what he wants, Richard!
Dick: No, Dami, what did we say about- STOP BITING ME
Tim, staring deadpan at the camera while the others fight behind him: I have never envied Jason Todd more in my life