Tumgik
wordsofthefanfic · 11 months
Text
Robin huffs, "Isn't that a felony?"
"We're all practically collecting felonies at this point," says Erica.
"What's a felony?" El asks, "is it like stamps?"
"No," says Max.
“Yes, absolutely," says Erica, immediately.
"Dear god," says Nancy.
— no boys allowed, pukner
9 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 11 months
Text
The problem with Eddie Munson is that he’s been raised to love like it’ll bite, and Steve’s been taught to love like it’s a sword he can stab himself on.
— (something happens and I’m) head over heels, GibbousLunation
30 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 2 years
Text
“We need to go, someone tried to assassinate Markus.”
Connor’s head shot to face him, eyes widening slightly, “I’ve been here the whole time, it wasn’t me!”
“Jesus Christ Connor you’re not a suspect!” Hank groaned. It was way too fucking early for all of this.
— All that I’m asking is a chance to live, Lethotep
10 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 2 years
Text
Tim took a sip of coffee and spluttered. “Why the fuck is there salt in here?”
Jason wiggled his eyebrows. “Poor little Timmers. Was he too tired to see someone tampering with his sugar bowl?”
“I hate you,” Tim groaned. Then continued to drink anyway.
Jason shook his head incredulously. “You’re a freak.”
“And you’re a zombie.” Tim deadpanned.
— i crumble completely when you cry, wingedgrace
52 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 2 years
Text
Dick hung his head, looking at his hands. “I trust people to help me. You don’t trust people to do anything. That’s why we didn’t work out.”
Jason gasped dramatically. “Are you… are you breaking up with Bruce?”
Dick ruffled the kid’s hair. “We already broke up, dipshit.”
— we all fall when we lose too much, justjellyjackal
11 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 2 years
Text
Damian says, "Are you not aware that head injuries can lead to hidden blood clots that end up causing irreparable damage?"
Tim hates that Damian of all people is the one to corroborate him on the blood clot thing. He's torn between agreeing, because he literally said that last night, and disagreeing, because it's Damian.
In the end, what he says is a terse, "The blood clot issue has already been covered."
Dick doesn't have a concussion. He says, "I don't have a concussion,"
The look on Jason and Tim's faces tells him they don't believe him.
"Well," Jason says dubiously, "You're at least coherent enough to deny it,"
Tim frowns. "I've read about people who hit their heads, develop a blood clot and never realize, and then just drop dead one day."
Jason and Dick both look at Tim in horror.
— a little party never killed nobody, danishsweethearts
6 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 2 years
Text
“Let us in before I stab Drake,” a voice says.
“Why? Literally what reason? I drove you here.”
“Todd appreciates violence. I was trying to demonstrate mutual understanding as a sign of camaraderie.”
— fun and games, prismatical
115 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 2 years
Text
He finally gets off three stops later in a neighbourhood he doesn’t recognise. It’s still drizzling, and Dick’s umbrella is sitting in his other backpack that’s sitting in his apartment, and his phone is on 23% charge.
Dick breathes out.
He breathes back in.
He thinks, very clearly, I wish I could scream right now.
— baby, it’s a sign of the times, danishsweethearts
8 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
“Like you know anything about football,” Steph countered. “Name one position.”
“Quarterback,” Tim said immediately.
“Okay, my fault, that was a gimme. Name another position.”
“Goalie,” he said, just as fast.
Jason gave him an incredulous look, but Steph rolled her eyes and said, “Fine. You’re a football genius. Let’s move on.”
“So tell me, Mr. Sports God, what’s a football strategy we could use?”
Tim looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and flicking to the sides like he thought the room might provide him with an answer. “Scatter?” he suggested.
— Chirp, AmariT
20 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
Dick puts his hand to his head. Then, turning to Bruce, he says, “This is your fault. You’re the one who decides to give me siblings.”
Bruce’s face is deadpan. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nightwing. How could I, Bruce Wayne, a harmless non-bender, be able to decide who becomes your siblings?”
— Flameo, Batman!, HuiLian
23 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
"Fifty on Steve beating the crap out of Tony."
Natasha frowned. "He would never."
"So? It's my money to make bets with!"
"Your money is kept in a superman lunch box under your bed, it's all in singles, and it's only twenty-seven dollars, Clint."
— Just Another Day, The Ressurectionist
10 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
“Just sayin’, that’s gotta be something for your next therapy session.”
“I’m not in therapy,” Bruce said.
“Gosh,” Dick said, with exaggerated surprise. “Fancy that.”
— World’s Finest: Gallery Night, WingFeathers
74 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
It’s really around that time that Dick gets sick of playing good kid and remembers that he’s a kid who regularly rode elephants and jumped off high places for fun for the first nine years of his life.
Dick always goes a bit crazy. Or a lot crazy. Or reminds the world that he’s always been crazy. The Titans even before they became the Titans, being the amazing friends they are, enabled the hell out of him.
— Wild Child Day, Mayarene Rose
24 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
I lived bitch: How did you get banned from climbing on light fixtures?
Dickiebird: you know that chandelier in the main foyer
I lived bitch: There isn’t one?
Dickiebird: exactly
— Jason Todd has Joined the Chat, UniverseInk
59 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
[from bird boi, 9:55 PM]
you know, wally told me the same thing.
[from wallington, 9:56 PM]
its the red hair, we all share a brain cell
[from dad bod, 9:59 PM]
i was gnona get mad but jesusnfuck walls i just lost it at that
— cry out what you need to., lanestreets
14 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
Kit waves her off, not quite meeting her eyes. “It’s alright. In this job, you learn not to get too attached to material things.”
This from the organization that had a schism over a sugar bowl, Olivia thinks, but doesn’t say.
— we built our own house, Starcrier
43 notes · View notes
wordsofthefanfic · 3 years
Text
“Maybe you can get the Talons to revolt against the Court,” Jason jokes, throwing a hand over the arm of the chair and pitching his voice low and strident. “‘Throw off your chains, owl freaks. Unite!’”
Concealing the smile that startles out of him in his shoulder, Bruce huffs. “What have I told you about communism in the Cave.”
Jason heaves out a long sigh, rolling his eyes. “That it has no place here.”
— the maybe man, dustorange
25 notes · View notes