Hi friends! Guess what. Commissions are finally open!
I’m a currently unemployed recent college graduate who is in major need of some money. I’m not gonna go into detail about my full financial situation (though tbh it’s not great and probably won’t improve for a while), but the job market sucks and any help/support/purchases would be greatly appreciated. Please email me at email@example.com if you’re interested in commissioning me!
Prices (all in USD):
Bust/Head & Shoulders:
Sketch w/ Flat Colors: $10
Colored Sketch & Shading: $15
Full Render (lineart + color+ shading): $20
Additional characters: +$5
Waist/Thighs & Up:
Sketch w/ Flat Colors: $20
Lineart w/ Flat Colors: $25
Lineart w/ Colors & Shading: $30
Additional characters: +$10
w/ Flat Colors: $30
Colored w/ Shading: $40
w/ Flat Colors: $50
Colored w/ Shading: $60
Additional characters: +$10 each (for both sketch & lineart)
I will have 8 slots open to start, and I will only be accepting payment upfront through PayPal via an invoice that I will create after the commissioner’s approval of a thumbnail sketch.
Please check under the readmore for additional info, or email me if you have specific questions not answered in this post! Otherwise, please visit myart-only sideblog or my DeviantArtif you would like to see more examples of my work. Thanks!
Summary: In which Dick Grayson gets de-aged and everybody freaks out
Okay, so let me just start off by saying that, yes, this is going to be more than one chapter long. I’m thinking about five or six. The only thing is, updates are going to be sporadic because of Teach Me to Dream, I just really wanted to get this story out because of a prompt I received asking for this specific story. Since I already had this written I figured I would post it.
Thanks to @laquilasse for helping with (and inspiring) this story.
When Dick wakes up cradled in
Bruce’s lap, he immediately knows that something’s
wrong. One, Dick doesn’t remember ever leaving the manor after falling asleep
last night. It had been a school night and he’d already used up his weeknight
patrols for the rest of the month.
The second is that he isn’t wearing
anything. He’s wrapped up in a big leather jacket like it’s a blanket or
something, and it dwarfs him so spectacularly. He’s small for his age, sure,
but this is ridiculous. Only his knees down are bared to the cold—plus the parts
of his face that aren’t smooshed into a shoulder or covered up by the jacket
collar. And even then, it’s not too cold.
He doesn’t know what’s going on but
he’s sure that this is Bruce who’s
holding him—Batman, really. But he doesn’t think there’s much of a difference.
The way Bruce holds him is
familiar, arms wrapped around Dick tight, but not too tight, like he’s not
completely sure of his grip. The Kevlar armor plating and the cape under Dick’s
cheek, the rough fabric of gloves as Bruce’s fingers card through his hair, the
familiar rumble of the Batmobile humming from underneath them. This is Bruce, of
that Dick has no doubt.
“He’s too quiet,” a voice says, and
it’s low and soft, but Dick’s sure he’s never heard it before. “I don’t like
It’s weird, because Dick thinks
it’s coming from the driver’s seat. Since when did Batman let anybody but Robin
get into the Batmobile? It’s only supposed to be Bruce and Alfred and Dick. Not
even Uncle Clark is allowed to touch the Batmobile.
“He’s unconscious,” Bruce lectures,
his voice maybe a touch deeper and gruffer than Dick is expecting, but it could
just be Dick’s imagination. There’s a pause, and then Bruce huffs an
exasperated breath. “Or are you?”
Dick think and he peels his eyes open. He doesn’t move his head from Bruce’s
shoulder, though, just pulls the leather jacket tighter around him and pushes
his face into the crook of Bruce’s armored neck. Bruce’s arms automatically
tighten around him.
It’s only then that Dick asks,
“How’d you know I was awake?”
“You know exactly how,” Bruce says,
but it sounds nothing like when Bruce had said it as a joke the other day over
a cup of hot chocolate. It sounds all growly an intimidating. It doesn’t—It
doesn’t really sound like Bruce.
Dick frowns, choosing to file that
piece of information away for later. He has more questions, after all. “Why
aren’t I wearing any clothes?”
Bruce pauses. Dick can’t see what
he looks like, so he can’t guess what he’s thinking. Probably wouldn’t be able
to with the cowl on anyways. He can,
however, see the stranger in the front seat, the one with the domino mask that
looks like he wants to be anywhere else but here. Yeah, Dick can see him, and
he thinks that this guy has to be on the same level of trust as Alfred to be sitting there, and that’s
when Dick knows something is up.
Bruce doesn’t have anybody that he trusts more than Alfred.
Dick doesn’t even think he makes the
cut. Close, sure, but is Dick driving
the Batmobile? Bruce probably wouldn’t even let him sit behind the steering wheel.
But the stranger, even with the
mask on Dick can tell the guy’s shooting furtive glances at Bruce every so
often. More and more the longer Bruce stays silent. They both know something,
and neither of them are inclined to spill. Great.
So, even though he’s frustrated
about it, Dick moves on. There’s no getting an answer out of Batman without a
lot of hard work, and Dick’s not really feeling up to prying Bruce’ secrets out
of him at the moment.
Instead, he says, “Fine. Then who
The stranger’s face twists up
strangely, like he hadn’t been expecting Dick to say that, and honestly, Dick’s
just about as confused as he can get. The stranger shoots Bruce another look,
and then his gaze drops down to meet Dick’s from behind the mask.
Dick makes sure to meet the white
lenses evenly, having enough experiences with masks to figure out where the
guy’s eyes are. Besides, he’s already huddled in what’s probably this
stranger’s jacket, looking like a little kid. There’s no way he’s going to show
any more weakness in front of someone
he doesn’t know. Even if Bruce seems to trust him.
“You don’t know me?” the stranger
asks,, tone matching his expression.
“No,” Dick says honestly, and he
feels it when Bruce heaves a sigh.
“Of course you don’t. Lucky you, then, I guess,” the stranger snarls.
“Everybody’s just looking for an excuse to forget I exi—”
Hood,” Bruce snaps, and the stranger snaps his mouth shut. Dick tries not
to flinch at the shapr tone, and he succeeds, but his limbs lock up. He
freezes. Because the last time Dick had hear that tone hadn’t been a pleasant
experience, and it had led to the biggest argument Dick had had since coming to
Bruce catches on quick, but the
stranger catches on even quicker. A sharp, mirthless laugh leaves his lips, and
he gives Dick a sneer. “Well, that was a surprise. Didn’t think that the Golden
Boy would ever be afraid of Batman.”
“I’m not afraid of Batman!” Dick
protests, sitting up straight, even as his cheeks flush with ager. Bruce’s arms
never leave him, but they do pull him in closer so that Dick’s back is up against
Bruce’s chest. If he were afraid of Bruce, he would never even let Bruce near him. “What do you know?!”
“I know a lot,” the stranger says
as they leave the city behind them, and he doesn’t sound like he’s joking. “I
know that Batman’s actually Bruce Wayne. I know that you’re Dick Grayson. I know that being Robin get you fucking killed.”
“How would you know anything about
being Robin?!” Dick yells over Bruce’s reprimand.
“I’ve been Robin, kid.”
Dick sucks in a sharp breath, eyes
burning and a tightness in his chest that doesn’t make much sense. That can’t
be right. He’d made a mistake before, yes, but Dick’s Robin. He’s the only one that’s ever been and ever will be
Robin,” Dick insists, because it’s his
name, his colors, and Batman is his partner, and the stranger has to be
lying. Trying to get under his skin or something. He turns to Bruce, who
watches them both silently. Dick demands, “Why is he even here anyways?”
“Bruce needed my help,” the
stranger sneers. “And you’re both lucky I was there or we’d have two incompetent rich kids.”
“Yeah?” Dick asks, because that’s
another thing. “And how do you even know our identities?’
The stranger snorts. “Told you,
kid. “I’ve been Robin. Bruce adopted me.”
That something is back again, telling him that whatever’s going on it’s
so, so wrong. And Dick swallows past the lump in his throat. Because Bruce wouldn’t. He wouldn’t adopt anybody
else. He hadn’t even been able to adopt Dick. And besides, this guy has to be
in his late teens, or maybe even in his twenties. The stranger is lying.
And so, Dick tells him that, and he
makes sure his tone is ice cold. “You’re a liar, you know?” Dick seethes. “I’m
robin and I’m the only one Brue has taken in. Right?”
He turns to Bruce once again, but
the cowl is still doesn, and while Dick is getting better at it, he still has
trouble readin the visible half of Bruce’ face for any emotion. For some
reason, it seems especially hard now.
After a moment, Bruce inhales
deeply through his nose and peels off the cowl, and Dick can’t help but flinch
this time. Because—it’s Bruce, but it’s not.
He’s older and broader and the hidden twinkle of kidness Dick used to be able
to find isn’t there anymore. This is someone else with Bruce’s voice and
personality, and Dick think that if they weren’t in the Batmbile right now, he
would probably be half a block away by now.
“Dick,” Bruce says, and it’s tired.
“There’s a lot that we need to tell you, but I don’t think now is the best time.”
“No.” Dick’s stubborn on a good
day, and there’s no way he’s letting this
go without a fight “Why is the guy—” he nods to the stranger “—saying he was
Robin? I’m Robin.”
“Not now,” Bruce repeats.
Dick wants to shrink away. But
Bruce’s hands are still holding him in place as the atranger weaves the care
down the long winding road to the entrance to the Cave. Bruce is looking at
Dick, swaddled in a stranger’s jacket, like it’s been such a long time since
he’s seen him, and it doesn’t make any sense.
“I don’t understand what’s
happening,” Dick says, just because he doesn’t know what else he’d supposed to
think, and the anger’s back full force. “Why aren’t you telling me that he’s
lying? Are you trying to replace me? Are you firing me again?”
The stranger jolts in his set,
slamming on the breaks just as they make it to the Batmobile’s parking spot—and
it probably would have been fine if Dick had been wearing a seat belt, but he’s
still sitting Bruce’s lap, curled up in a leather jacket without his own hands
to stabilize him, so he jolts forward with the momentum, too. Bruce barely
pulls Dick away from the dashboard in time to keep him from getting a
“It wasn’t about Two-Face,” Bruce
says once Dick is pulled back into Bruce’s hold, and Dick tenses at the use of
past tense. Wasn’t. What is that
supposed mean? “Trust me, Dick. Firing you for a situation I hadn’t prepared
you for wasn’t your fault, and I’m sorry.”
Dick slumps back into Bruce’
comfort. “Then I don’t get it.”
“Make it uncomplicated, then,” Dick
demands. “Who is he? Why is he saying
he was Robin? And why aren’t you disagreeing?”
And why is Bruce so old? He looks like he’s agd twenty years
in between last night and now, and Dick just doesn’t know what to make of it.
At all. Maybe this is all some drug-induced hallucination, or something. It
really wouldn’t surprise him at this point.
Maybe fear toxin. His worst fears
had been his parents—and then Bruce—falling to their deaths. But ever since
Two-Face, he’s had a sort of different fear on his mind.
And yet, everything seems so clear.
Bruce’s touch feels so real. He just doesn’t get what’s going on.
“Let’s get you something to wear
first,” Bruce says softly. Then he turns to the stranger. “Go upstairs and get
some of Damian’s old clothes.”
Dick doesn’t know who Damian is or
why he would have clothes upstairs, but apparently the stranger does, because
Dick watches him leave without a word. There’s just a glance between Dick and
Bruce and he’s gone. Then, it’s just Bruce and Dick alone in the car, and Dick
has a sneaking suspicion that Bruce had wanted it this way. Wanted to talk
without the stranger interrupting them again.
“What’s going on?” Dick asks in a
small voice. “Why was that guy saying all that stuff? And why aren’t I wearing
any clothes? Why do you look so different?”
Bruce’s expression is grim, but his
eyes are honest. “Dick, before we left for patrol, you were twenty-four.” Dick
opens his mouth to say something, to deny it, to say that’s
impossible, but he can’t get anything out before Bruce is speaking again.
“We ran into some trouble. A gang had access to drugs that are able to
manipulate age and memory. You were hit with a dart containing the drug.”
“I don’t understand,” Dick says,
and he feels empty inside. Blank. Numb. The sense of wrongness takes over, and
this—this can’t be happening. Dick doesn’t remember being twenty-four at
all. He’s eleven. He’s the Robin to Bruce’s Batman. “That doesn’t make any
“It’s true, Dick,” Bruce says.
And Dick can see it now, kind of.
He’s been trained to put clues together since he became Robin, and he sees it
all adding up. This isn’t his Bruce. If what he’s saying is true, then
this Bruce is thirteen years older than what Dick remembers. And Dick knows
that if he’d changed so drastically in just the two years Dick had been living
at the manor, then there’s no way he hadn’t changed in six times that long.
But Dick shakes his head violently,
backing up into the dashboard to the best of his ability. No matter how many
signs are telling Dick that Bruce is right, he won’t accept it. Not yet.
Not until he can get this straight in his head.
Because Dick wouldn’t have just given
up being Robin. It’s who he is, and Dick would never let it go. Not in a
million years. So the stranger has to be lying. Bruce has to be lying.
But Bruce’s eyes are clear, and his
gaze is steady. His hand comes up to push Dick’s hair back from his head, and
Dick relaxes into the touch. He remembers this touch from when he’d woken up,
too. He’d been so sure that this was Bruce, just by his touch. Because Dick knows
Bruce. They’re partners. It’s Dick’s job to know.
So Dick slumps, and he decides
that, for now, he’ll believe Bruce, and hope that whatever storm comes from it,
from losing thirteen impossible years, doesn’t destroy them.
on literally any website i go onto i always feel so awkward and out of place. like anytime i make a post on here that’s just me talking i feel like a kid that walks into the wrong classroom at school and everyone’s just starin at me like “lmao this bitch is dumb”
“Is he stupid or something? I’d go knock some sense into him, but it’d be too easy. Like, a literal baby could beat him up!”
“Heh-heh! I bet you’re right. Y’know, I’d pay good money to see that.”
“No, shut up! This is serious! I’m gonna go talk to him!”
“Yes! You skip tail day! Everyone thinks you’re a weakling all the time! Because you’re so weak! In your tail!”
“Look, I’m not mad… I’m just worried about you, Raditz. Some wild baby could headbutt you in the chest when you least expect it and then what would you do?”
“N-nonsense! My scouter would…”
“Those things are garbage! I overloaded yours just standing here! Didn’t your parents teach you anything?!”
“Well… my finishing move… I call it ‘Hump Day’, and–”
“I’m worried about your brother.”
“Huh? You mean that green fox guy I met before the 22nd World Tournament? Man, I ain’t heard from him in forever! How’s he doin’ anyway?”
“Wait, I forgot you’re a damn jackass. Never mind.”
“What’s wrong with all of you?!”
“Oh. You found out about Raditz, I take it.”
“At least he has a tail!”
“Aren’t you overreacting a little? It’s a liability, really. Besides, mine’s purple. It’s a little… ostentatious, you know?”
“Dammit, this is why you’re still single, Trunks! There’s plenty of color-blind women who’d never hold your half-breed tail against you! Instead, you just lop it off before they even get a chance to know you!”
“Don’t you have something better to do?”
“It’s the same way you hide behind that milquetoast personality of yours! No one even gets a chance to find out whether you use that sword to compensate for below-average unarmed combat prowess!”
“You keep building all these barriers, Trunks! People can’t see the real you!”
highlights of the 18hr livestream’s Mario Kart sessions (feat. Supportive Brendan™ and Clueless Ashley™) pt. 3
• *lauren casually just feeds brian chips from offscreen*
• Brendan: “uh, Ashley, Kayla’s rooting for you because of strong women” Lauren: “no one rooted for me because of strong women!!” Brendan: “they all were upset because you left!” Lauren: “alright. okay yeah”
•Gabe: “these are the controls that have existed in every version of mario” Ashley: “I’ve never been good at it. also i haven’t played in like 15 years” Gabe: “it’s like riding a bike” Ashley: “i haven’t ridden a bike since i was 11”
• Brian: “hey can we please race in complete silence thank you so much”
• Lauren: “Gabe… who are you?” Gabe: “bottom right” Lauren: “well he’s a real grandstander, you might wanna keep him in check. look at him LOOK AT HIM i hate this guy”
• Brian: “guys sometimes you just go from 2nd to 5th in the blink of an eye. ain’t that just the way”
• Ashley: “am i supposed to be underwater???”
• Brendan *reading the chat*: “they’d like Lauren to continue cursing and they’re cheering for Ashley” Lauren: “i can only curse when I’m competing” Brian: “otherwise she’s like a Puritan” Lauren: “i’m a pure princess”
• Ashley: “Brendan, you and I are the same” Brendan: “at being terrible? fantastic. the score to beat, Ashley, is seven points total in four games”
• Joey: “FUCK. my. little. mouth.” Lauren: “Joey!” Joey: “sorry…” Clayton: “hey it’s not that little”
• *Clayton’s eating chicken and holding a bag of chips* Lauren: “it looks like you just pulled a chicken wing out of that bag”
• Ashley: “How many times do we have to go around in a circle?” Gabe: “three times it’s three laps” Ashley: “my hand is already hurtingggg”
• Lauren: “ooh the ghost!” Brian: “it’s a SQUID” Lauren: “no it’s NOT it’s a little ghost that goes around” Brian: “it is objectively… it is objectively a squid”
• Ashley: “i have carpal tunnel now”
•Ashley: “oww somebody hurt me and I don’t know why you would do that” Gabe: “Joey was that you you son of a bitch?” Joey *smugly*: “yes.”
• Lauren: “wait is that why i was moving so slow??” Joey: “yes well it stops you from moving very fast” Lauren: “what? i thought it was helping me… all this time it was cursing me?!?”
• Brian: “ok everybody get out their proverbial checkbooks cause it looks like Gabe is going down my friends”
• Ashley: “what do you want from me?! im trying really hard ok…”
• Lauren: “yeah jojo get him. fuck that guy he mugs too much”
• Ashley: “I’m really struggling with steering. You know what it is? I’m from California so I never really learned how to drive in the snow very well”
• Brendan: “Ashley you’re doing better sweetie!”
• Ashley: “i mean i hit that iceberg real good. i’m titanic”
• Lauren was just mumbling incoherently into Joey’s shoulder for a while
• Brendan: “someone provide Ashley with emotional support” Gabe: “you’re not last Ashley, you’re killin it”
• Lauren: “I am TIRED can we all just go to sleep now?”
• Ashley: “I’m gonna leave as soon as I finish losing this. I should already be asleep”
• Gavyn, to Ashley: “I’m behind you right now and I’m giving you all of the girl power vibes I’ve got”
• Brendan: “Kayla, I totally agree: the scoring does work like golf so I am still the winner in this room”
• Joey: “hell yeah I’m drifting hard I’m drifting fast and I’m gonna drift into this entire corner BYEEEE”
• Gabe: “someone just hit me with a goddamn boomerang” Ashley: “I hope it was me” Gabe: “it CANT have been” Ashley: “well SHUT UP you might have lapped me”
"I miss you." - "You say that again, I'll rip your tongue out of your head."
"Take your hand off the glass."
"You wanna chit-chat more or you wanna get on me?"
"You ready to go again or you need some time, firecrotch?"
"Liking what I like don't make me a bitch."
"You're nothing but a warm mouth to me."
"I missed ya."
"How do you know if a guy you've been hanging out with likes you?"
"He isn't afraid to kiss me."
"Fuck you is what you were invited to."
"Would you at least look at me?"
"You love me and you're gay."
"I know what he felt with me. He can't fake that."
"It's a fucking piece of paper!" - "Not to me."
"Not everybody just gets to blurt out how they fucking feel every minute."
"The other one. The readhead."
"I like fucking carrot tops."
"He in trouble?"
"I gotta take care of something important."
"25 bucks gets you a dance." - "25 bucks for your ass, huh? Never had to pay for that shit before."
"Jesus Christ, Ian."
"Don't make me say it, asswhipe."
"Yeah, sure. Got nothing better to do than watch a bunch of pruny queens slap their sacks against your asscheeks."
"Those fingers go anywhere near that cock, Imma break every knuckle on your hand."
"Ian, what you and I have, makes me free."
"I just want everybody here to know, I'm fucking gay."
"You're going down, Army."
"Fucking cheat on me, Ian? Won't get out of bed and you're fucking bouncing off the walls. I came out for you, you piece of shit."
"Red-head. Bat-shit crazy. Packing 9 inches."
"Are you out of you're fucking mind? [...] You are out of you're fucking... don't touch me. [...] You need to pack you're shit."
"You're sick. You need help. I got to take you to a hospital, Ian." - "Fuck you." - "Hey, hey. You are going to the psych ward or a fucking E.R. It's up to you. [...]" - "Okay... okay. I didn't know how important this was to you."