Grey--scales - Nikki

“Are you here all night?” Jason asked, “or are you planning to, you know, be a human? I think those go home sometimes.”

High above Jason’s head, a swarm of bats entered the cave, winding among the stalactites and screeching a kind of garbled response.

Dick, however, said nothing. He remained bent over one of the long tables on the cavern floor, examining a map Jason could barely see from his own seat a short distance behind, ignoring Jason and his sarcasm both. 

Jason didn’t enjoy being ignored. 

Fine. 

“I have some tasks you could take over,” he suggested, in his least helpful voice, “if you’re in the market for an excuse to keep working. I know you make those sometimes.”

Nothing.

“I have some weapons to clean, if you want to do that. You could type out all my old cases, if that works, because I only have the originals and those are hard to work with.”

Still nothing.

“Take out the trash?” Jason tried. “Wash the dishes? I put a load of laundry in a couple of hours ago, but there’s a wool jacket in the mix, so be careful what you put in the dryer.”

Dick didn’t move. Jason was enjoying himself now.

“Write a sonnet? Map the White House?” Jason held up a finger Dick couldn’t see, like he had just remembered something interesting. “I think there’s a library on 8th that exploded a few days back, so if you could just grab the rubble from the street and rebuild it by hand, that would be great.”

No reaction. 

“Whatever,” said Jason, “I’m out of here. Get some sleep maybe? I know the whole work-to-outrun-despair routine is your ‘thing,’ or whatever, but it never looks good on you. Have you considered—”

Jason cut himself off as Dick finally turned away from the table. Looking him in the eye, Jason felt suddenly and inexplicably afraid. 

“Go on,” said Dick, quietly.

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I FILMED MYSELF READING THIS TWITTER POST AND I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO STOP LAUGHING

Edit: I know I said INT wrong, the words were really small so I read “INT traditional” as “international”. Just figured I’d clear that up cause a lot of people pointed it out LMAO

Emily Dickinson

If you asked the guys, they’d say they hated the parties. They had a point, she guessed, because really— if Steph had to pose for the cameras like they did, she’d probably hate it too. It was bad enough that she had to explain over and over again that she and Tim weren’t dating anymore, (“We’re actually just friends now… good friends. Please get the microphone out of my face.”) but they had to put up with a lot more than that. 

Anyway, Steph liked Wayne parties. They had nice food. She’d be the first to admit though, they could get a little crazy, which is how this one was turning out.

It all went downhill while she was helping herself to a slice of cake—her phone rang: Dick calling from across the room. So that was suspicious.

“Um, hello?”

“Hey! Listen, I need a favor.”

Steph glanced around the foyer until she saw him by the front door, clutching onto Damian’s shoulders for dear life. It didn’t look good. “Okay, shoot.”

“One of the board members had too much champagne. He’s been saying some, uh, kind of impolite things about Damian and his mom, so…”

“Oh lord. Any casualties?”

“Yeah, not yet, but that’s kind of what I’m worried about. I was wondering if maybe you could take him home? Probably better if— yes you are— he leaves before— child, no— somebody gets hurt— stop struggling I told you NO— or worse. Oh, for the love of— Damian!”

“I can do that, I guess,” Steph told him, regarding her cake regretfully. She supposed she could steal some from the kitchen later. “Yo, Tim, I’m leaving.”

He nodded at her, so she swept through the dance floor. Damn, though, she looked good. That was another nice thing about Wayne parties— they usually came with really sweet dresses. Oh man, she was totally going to… focus. She was going to focus now, before Damian shanked a WASP with half a cake platter. 

Stephanie brushed past a few party goers on her way to the door. She was almost there when she heard him. “I’m just saying, the little bastard doesn’t belong in a boardroom at all, and I— Well hey there, honey, where are you going in such a hurry?”

Seriously? Did that really just happen? Wow, that was so not gonna fly. Steph swung around.

“I was just… you know, maybe I don’t have to leave just yet.” She smiled at him. “What’s your name?”

“Anthony,” he told her. She didn’t like the way he was looking her over. Gross. 

“Prescott, isn’t it? You’re on the board?”

“That I am.”

“Listen, Anthony, can I ask you a favor? My phone just died, and I need to send a couple of texts. Would you mind…?”

“Oh, not at all.” He dug into his pocket and fished out an iPhone, which he unlocked and handed to her. Oh hell yes this was about to get awesome. Stephanie grinned. 

“Thanks! Now let’s see… I want… contacts! There we are. Now what have we got to work with here…?” 

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just trying to decide who to call about your manners. Let’s see we’ve got… Dad… Mom… Ooh! Grandma. Now how what would your grandma think about the way you’ve been behaving?”

“Oh my god, please don’t—”

“Well now I just have to find out, don’t I? Let’s give her a call!” Stephanie pushed the button. “Ringing, ringing— oh sir, you do not want to do that.” He’d lunged for the phone.

“Give me back my phone you little—”

“Honey, that isn’t helping your case. Hey! Is this Anthony’s grandmother?”

Anthony panicked. He grabbed her arm, so she flipped him— he fell on the floor, and she planted one of her wonderfully glittery heels on his chest and kept right on talking. “Fantastic! It’s great to meet you. My name is Stephanie, and I just met your grandson at a party. Yes, he is very good looking.” She rolled her eyes so Anthony knew he wasn’t. 

“Listen, I’m calling because he’s been very rude to me. Yeah, Mrs. Prescott, you know how they are. I really don’t appreciate it. I should probably mention that I’m a teenager. Yes ma’am. Eighteen. He’s what, at least forty? It made me uncomfortable.”

Stephanie was really liking Mrs. Prescott. “There’s actually one other thing. I have this friend, and your grandson called him a little bastard. I mean, if we’re being completely fair, that’s what he is, but it’s the tone, you know? My friend is ten years old, and he’s very upset. Thank you so much, Mrs. Prescott! I was hoping you would say that.” Stephanie leaned down so Anthony could hear her. 

“Your grandmother wants to talk to you.” She handed him back his phone. “You know, I was just thinking— it’s a pity you’re so old because she probably can’t cut your allowance anymore. Then I remembered that they—” she pointed to the Waynes— “control your salary. So great job, dumbass. You absolutely just insulted the wrong ten year old. Have fun with grandma.” 

And she waltzed away like the badass she knew she was. People were staring at her, but hey, she had caused a scene. And she was gorgeous. She really couldn’t blame them. Even Dick and Tim were gawking at her with their mouths hanging open. Damian actually looked impressed. 

“Good enough?” she asked him.

“Good enough.”

“Awesome. Let’s hit the road. We both have better things we could be doing.”

Damn, she loved Wayne parties.

Blue | Art | Quotes

undercuts

[ID: A 3-page comic and an illustration of Conner Kent, Cassie Sandsmark, Bart Allen, and Tim Drake from DC Comics.

Comic Page 1

Panel 1: Cassie enters the living room, stretching. In the foreground, Kon holds an electric hair clipper.

Tim, off panel: Hey Cassie. Cassie: *yawn* Hey Tim, hey Kon. Kon: Hey Cassie.

Panel 2: Cassie touches the back of Kon’s head. Kon turns towards her, putting the clipper down.

Cassie: Hair coming in? Kon: Yeah. Cassie: Huh. I’ve always wondered how that feels. Kon: The undercut? Cassie: Yeah.

Panel 3: Cassie continues touching the back of Kon’s head, curious. In the background, Bart speeds in with armfuls of bags in street wear.

Cassie: Ooo, stubbly. Kon: You wanna try? Bart: HEY GUYS SUP Cassie: Hey Bart. Kon: Hey Bart.

Panel 4: Cassie sits by the table with Kon. Kon turns towards Bart, who’s simultaneously in the kitchen putting away his purchases and drinking water, and in the foreground doing a thumbs up holding a pillow, having changed into a sweatshirt.

Cassie: Kon’s fixing his undercut. Kon: And Cassie’s maybe getting one. Bart: Yeah you’d look great! Kon: Yeah she would. Cassie: Thanks.

Comic Page 2

Panel 1: A close up on the upper half of Bart’s face. He looks wary.

Cassie, off panel: You wanna get one too? Bart: I dunno, are you guys gonna make fun of my hair again?

Panel 2: Bart looks up at Tim, who’s hanging upside down from the ceiling and holding a phone.

Tim: In fairness, half bald would be an improvement from completely bald, kinda. Bart: Hey Tim. Tim: Hey Bart.

Panel 3: Kon turns towards Tim, who continues to hang upside down whilst smiling smugly. Cassie gestures at the back of her head, turned to Bart.

Kon: “Kinda”? Tim: Mm. Kon: Wow. Cassie: Isn’t the suit uncomfortable with the hair? Bart: In hindsight yeah but like, do I have the face for an undercut?

Panel 4: Cassie thinks thoughtfully. Bart leans his cheek against Kon’s shoulder. Kon shifts slightly to make space for Tim.

Cassie: Has there ever been a “bad” undercut? Bart: Worst case you could do wigs again. Cassie: Ugh. Tim, off panel: Batwoman says undercuts are better with suits like hers. Kon: Batwoman has an undercut?

Comic Page 3

Panel 1: Cassie and Bart look up at Tim. Kon looks at them, curious; Tim also looks at them, but disgruntled instead.

Cassie: I’ll get one if Bart gets one. Bart: I’ll get one if Time gets one. Tim: Why am I involved.

Panel 2: Cassie and Kon huddle around Bart, gesturing towards him. The trio do their best at making the most angelic expression they can muster. Tim gives them a deadpan stare.

Cassie: Think about Bart! Bart: What about Bart! Kon: For Bart, Tim!

Panel 3: Tim continues to give them a deadpan stare.

Panel 4: The deadpan stare continues. The other three cheer.

Tim: … sure? Cassie, Bart, and Kon: YEAH!

Illustration

Kon sits behind Tim, inspecting the back of Tim’s head closely, holding an electric hair clipper; Tim’s head is bowed slightly, looking down at Bart whose head is laid on his lap; Cassie lays arms crossed on Bart’s stomach. The atmosphere is easy and comfortable. They all have undercuts.

End ID.]

The Letters of Emily Dickinson (1856), Emily Dickinson

Batblob but he’s just the whole dsm5

you’re a genius and i couldn’t resist making a shitty version of this on my phone