I Cannot Emphasize How Necessary It Is To Have A Buddy To Participate In Fandom With. Completely Elevated

i cannot emphasize how necessary it is to have a buddy to participate in fandom with. completely elevated experience. don't have a buddy? find someone you like and message them and be their friend. gush over every sketch and drabble and insane headcanon they have. live life to the fullest.

DPxDC Idea

Danny working at Wayne Enterprises as some sort of engineer, uses the in-house app for all his blueprints and stuff

He starts getting notes from a coworker in-app, and assumes its this annoying older guy in his department who constantly undermines him because of his age, despite his education and past achievements (i feel like in this AU the Fentons react well to the reveal and they work together on a number of non-lethal ecto inventions that have Danny's name attached to them)

Except one day his coworker mentions never using the app, and Danny suddenly realizes there's only one other TD he could've been arguing with in the notes of the app

FFVII/DCU crossover: My Name is Robin

@traxits found a prompt for Turk!Tim Drake and I couldn’t help myself. I might expand on this verse when I’m not so tired but, um, tada?

(On mobile so no read more unfortunately)

It had been a long night.

Long nights were something that he was pretty used to at this point, as much as it irked him. It came with the territory. Though he felt like tonight had been longer than the others.

He wrinkled his nose as smoke from Reno’s cigarette drifted into his personal space, offending him more than the stream of babble that the red head had, had going for… A glance as his watch. Almost an hour. That was actually pretty impressive.

He raised a hand, knowing that trying to bat the smoke away was futile but trying anyway. He hated the smell of smoke, reminding him far too much of days he’d rather forget bit never could. He hated this city and everything it stood for. Everything it had done.

And, if he was honest with himself, he had hated the Turks too.

Now they were like the family he had never had and wasn’t so sure he actually wanted, but they weren’t going anywhere and he knew it. They were like a disease, all consuming and you’re never really free.

“Something wrong, Robin?”

“Just you trying to slowly kill me by second hand smoke inhalation.”

Robin. That was the name that had been given to him when his identity had been stripped from him. As far as he was concerned, Tim Drake was dead, rotting away in a grave next to his parents, friends, everyone who had ever meant anything to him. Tim Drake had been too weak to protect them. Tim Drake had been nothing and no one.

Robin? Robin was someone.

Robin could fight and more than handle his own. He was smart and witty and a valuable member of the team. He was everything that Tim Drake could never be.

He knew, of course, that the Robin persona he had created out of desperation to survive was a lie and that he really was still Tim Drake somewhere under the miles of lies and false bravado, but it didn’t matter. Tim Drake was gone and Robin was never letting him come back.

He had failed too much to risk it.

There was a snort from the other before he snuffed out his cigarette on the wall behind them. Robin, despite how he might come across, was actually pretty fond of Reno. As long as one got used to some of his more annoying habits. Robin often wondered if Reno’s personality was as fake as his name too or if he had actually been able to hold on to part of himself.

But you didn’t talk about things like that. Secrets were what Turks lives and breathed, even between each other. Or maybe it was especially with each other. He supposed the semantics didn’t matter when the end result was the same.

A sigh found its way from his lips without his consent, but it was late and he was tired. And Strife was late. Reno had assured him that this was typical of Cloud Strife who seemed to want to spend as much time on the road as he could. (Secretly, Robin didn’t blame him. If he had a bike like that, he’d want to be out traveling all the time too.)

But a standard habit of Cloud’s or not, it was late and he was tired.

Reno was babbling again, about what Robin wasn’t sure. Sometimes he wasn’t sure that Reno himself knew what was spewing from his mouth.

Robin stepped away from the wall, pulling a small metal rod from the small of his back, expertly flicking it so that it extend to its full size. He loved his bo staff. He hadn’t ever considered using one before and now he didn’t feel right if he didn’t have it.

Mostly for moments like this where he could put himself through the basic motions to pass time or relive stress.

Stress. Not anxiety. Robin didn’t get anxiety. Tim Drake did.

Reno continued to chatter so Robin let his mind wander, careful to never let it go too far out of fear of falling into a place he wouldn’t be able to get back from. His mind was a minefield and everyone knew it. Far too much death, regret, and guilt.

But that had been Tim Drake’s life. It was too bad he couldn’t find a way to bury the memories like he had buried everything else. He was grateful, though, that the Turks had saved him. Especially when he had hated them.

In retrospect, he knew that hating the Turks themselves had been unfair. They hadn’t been the ones calling the shots; they had just been the paid muscle. But they had always been around when something bad happened, so they were guilty by association.

Well, they were also literally guilty of whatever order they had carried out, but that was semantics again.

But they had created Robin and in the process, saved his life. He had the feeling that at least Reno felt the same way and the others probably felt it I some level. There was too deep a connection for them not to. And while he was well aware that life or death situations enhanced connections, he also knew that they would have formed anyway.

They worked too closely for them not to.

The roar of an engine drowned Reno out and Robin looked toward where the sound was coming from, knowing that it had to be Strife.

Finally.

Reno straightened slightly from his slouch against the wall, but didn’t fully lose his relaxed demeanor. Though, Robin supposed, it was pretty rare that he ever did. That was just part him. Robin put the bo staff away and started toward what was now just a rumble of an idle engine.

The sound cut off abruptly as Strife turned off the monstrous bike and slid from it. Robin didn’t glance back to know that Reno was following, hand reaching into his coat as the blond came into sight.

Strife didn’t look up from where he was unhooking his gear, though Robin was pretty certain that he knew they were there.

Maybe he took the same approach with Reno as the rest of the Turks; ignore him until he goes away.

It wasn’t until they were almost at arms length that Strife finally looked at them and Robin faltered. He hadn’t had much interaction with Strife directly. Certainly not as much as the other Turks. There was something about the other that put his teeth on edge and caused his fight or flight reflex to flare up. Maybe it was the eyes that so very clearly glowed in the dim lighting, or the way he tossed around that sword that was heavier than him like it was a straw, but, whatever it was, Robin was wary of him.

Apparently the feeling wasn’t mutual.

A single blond eyebrow was raised at him before his eyes flicked back to Reno and then settled back on Robin. Robin tried not to be offended by that. Reno was the more unpredictable of the two, after all.

Robin pulled a package from his jacket and held it out to Strife, not so much as blinking when the blond eyebrow just rose all the higher before resting his gaze fully on Reno.

“We’ve talked about this. I’m not running anything for Rufus without knowing what’s in it.”

“‘N I keep telling ya tha ’s not a bomb so ya ain’t got nuttin to worry bout.”

Robin was fairly certain that Reno could turn his accent on and off at will, depending on the situation.

And how drunk he was.

But right now he was perfectly sober. Robin was positive of it having been with the other for the past six hours on this ridiculous mission to give Strife a package. They could have delivered it themselves for as long as this had taken.

Robin has pointed that out to Reno some time ago and his only response had been that those hadn’t been their orders.

Cloud was still eyeing Reno as though trying to tell if he was lying. Robin wished him luck on that fruitless endeavor. After a moment, Strife seemed to deflate a bit and he took the package that Robin was still holding it to him.

“I’m charging him triple.”

Reno shrugged in response. Robin could hear that, that was between Rufus and Cloud in that shrug and judging by the look he was being given, so could Cloud.

With that, Strife strode into the bar he resided above and Robin looked back at Reno. Reno lit up another cigarette and took a long drag of it before he spoke.

“See kid? Ain’t nothing to it.”

Robin nodded a bit, trying to ignore the itch between his shoulder blades that was begging for some kind of action and Tim Drake screaming from the depths of his mind over what he had become.

"The Six of Swords shows that you are in state of transition, leaving behind what was familiar and moving towards the unknown.”

Tim starts spreasing a rumor that every Robin is the same person, they just work like Doctor Who.

Even better: no one was ever told otherwise so everyone just assumed they were the same person and the kids lean into it

Bruce: This is my sidekick, Robin.

8-year-old Dick: Nice to meet you, Mr. Superman!

Clark: Nice to meet you too, Robin.

———————

12-year-old Jason: 'Sup.

Oliver: Robin, you look... different.

Jason: What's that supposed to mean?

Oliver: Nothing. I mean, different is good, right?

———————

14-year-old Tim: I'm here! Sorry I'm late.

Barry: Wait, I thought Robin died.

Tim: I got better.

Barry: I see.

Barry: The pants are a nice touch.

———————

Damian: I have arrived. You may now grovel in my presence.

Arthur: Alright, this one MUST be a different child.

Damian: What are you talking about?

Arthur: You are six inches shorter than last month.

Damian: Perhaps you got taller.

Arthur: That... actually makes me feel better. Thank you.

———————

Steph: *walks in*

Hal: Someone tell me what the hell's going on.

Steph: I transitioned.