#good morning tim drake tag did you miss me? no? GOOD.

[idyllcy]

this is a drama. i am the drama.

word count: 10.4k

WARNINGS: mentions of SA, mentions of sex trafficking, mild violence (all r kinda glossed over but still warning), Nonexplicit smut

summary: your soul drowns Tim, but he finds comfort in it.

The city of Gotham is not phased by much.

From the drug trafficking in the docks to the human trafficking happening under everyone's nose, the average citizen doesn't really care. Though, arguably, they do mind when their sleep is disturbed by the sound of racing cars— something else that isn't necessarily new in Gotham. However, there had been news that the racers were steering off into the city at night, so Tim finds himself in civilian clothes, holding up a pass to access the venue that the racers were using, stepping in past the loud noises and people screaming. Ah, he made it in time.

He's surprised to find actual racing cars— cars that look like they could be in a grand prix.

From the seats, he meets eyes with a racer. He can't tell anything, but from posture and body frame, a woman. Now that he looks at it, all the racers seem to be female-presenting. He turns down the drink offered by one of the men, striking up a conversation instead, batting his lashes at the man, hoping to seduce him in some way. He wore too much clothing to be able to do so with his body, but it was still worth a shot. He hates dressing up like this anyway.

"So, what's a goody two shoes like you doing here?" The man smiles, sliding an arm around his shoulder.

"A friend gave me his pass because I said I'd never watched a Gotham street race." He bats his lashes. (Hopefully the fake lashes Stephanie glued don't fall off. God, did he hate dressing as Caroline)

"Really? Usually we place our bets on a racer." He hums, waving a guy over, dropping a twenty in a box. "I'd recommend you vote for Spitfire, she's an oldie and usually wins."

"Who are the others?" Tim slips a twenty from the back of his phone, blinking at the other names.

The man chuckles. "Lightwing is another good contender. She's been around forever. But also, her vision is spotty from an accident last time, so she's not as popular as before."

Tim nods slowly, staring at the other two names. "Who's Moonknight and Aquastar?"

"Moonknight is making her debut tonight, but her test run streaks were pretty bad because she doesn't have as big of a team as the rest of them." The man waves his hand. "You don't need to bet on her, pretty girl." He grins toothily. "Oh, and Aquastar is a visiting racer from a nearby city. We usually have more racers, but Cardinal got suspended for going off the race tracks and breaking into Gotham two weeks ago."

Now that he thinks about it, all of the names were practically knockoffs of the vigilantes and heroes who protected the cities. Although, he's surprised the street racing had ended up this big without any of the bats shutting it down. Someone must have a hand somewhere. He just wonders if it's Hood or B. It could be neither for all he knows.

"How does one race?" Tim blinks at one car in particular. It looks too much like a batmobile for comfort.

"You'd have to talk to the racers for that."

"Ey, Chris, are you hitting on newbies again?" A woman walks up the stairs, shoving him to the side playfully, tilting her head at Tim.

"Oh, come on, Spitty. You know I only do that so I can collect profits when you win."

"Arguably," She tilts her head at Tim, pausing. "You should bet on Moonknight."

"A-ah?"

"If she wins," Spitfire smiles, "then you collect all the profits. It's only a twenty, after all."

Tim frowns.

"But there's also a tradition for newbies to bet on newbies." She laughs. "You never know. That girl's got more speed in her than Cardinal. She just refuses to tell people."

"What's the cash prize?" Tim raises a brow.

"Driver gets ten percent of the bet money on top of the two million that WE pours into the track." She pauses.

"WE pours money into this?"

"We're not sure why, but they have been for a while now. The whole race track was from them." Spitfire sighs. "It's an old story, so it's not that surprising anymore."

Tim glances at the car again, pausing. Ah. This was where Bruce tested out his batmobile by using other people. No wonder he didn't push anyone to check the driving out. If Bruce was testing out all of his vehicles here, then there was no way he'd want it to be shut down. It would explain why he handed him an access card without having him get one. Tim glances around to look for seating, and Spitfire notices.

"You wanna sit in the grandstands?" She smiles. "My treat."

"Really?" Tim puts the money into Moonknight's box. The woman was right. It's only a twenty. Worst case, he loses the money. Though, he wonders what kind of a racer would have a leading champion telling him to vote for her. "Oh, is there a reason all the racers are girl?"

"We tried co-ed racing for a while." Spitfire holds her hand out for Tim, and he takes it. "But the men would get too aggressive and lead to unnecessary accidents on the track. Our goal is to test out cars for our sponsors before they're taken onto the field."

"Is that why there's a pass to get in?"

"Yeah." She hums, pulling the door open. "Come on in."

"Spitfire, favoring a newbie?!"

"Spitfire, who do you think is going to win!"

The woman turns her head, smile on her lips. "Me, obviously."

But it proves wrong when Tim meets eyes with the same woman from the first time.

You stare into his eyes, white racing suit snug on your body, a look in your eyes he recognizes. Though, the longer you look at him, the more you seem to read him— as if his entire past were exposed in front of you at a table. There is a sort of darkness to both your eyes and hair, the stare of a thousand souls. He breaks eye contact first, waving goodbye to Spitfire as she hops back to her position, final checkups of the cars in progress as Chris asks him if he wants a drink. Tim waves him down, but he mentions a can of Zesti would be fine. Chris barely makes it back in time for the announcements.

Tim catalogs the majority of the announcements in, checking for their voice on his phone, blinking when he finds a lack of match for it. He'd ask Chris, but the man is practically leaning over on the stand, eyes glittering as the cars prepare to race. He stands up, cracking open his soda, blinking when the four racers seem to fly off, and his eyes glance at the big screen, camera flying after the cars.

Moonknight goes from second to third, and Spitfire goes from third to first. He doesn't have much faith in his twenty bucks, but he wonders if the batmobile would really be helpful in a race like this. It didn't—

Moonknight goes from third to first at the final moment, boosting past Spitfire and racing to first place as she makes it into the second lap. Tim pauses while recalling the batmobile, and he remembers the change he had made just a week ago on the car, letting it accelerate faster than the other cars. Seeing his own creation in action hits something in him, blinking as she swerves.

"Oh, I might actually lose my money today." Chris laughs. "I didn't think she'd be able to do it."

"Who is Moonknight?"

"She's a completely new racer. She's called Moonknight because he sponsor gave her a car that looks eerily like a batmobile every time. Though, her car is in light grey." Chris points. "I'll hand you the pamphlet later."

"Thank you." Tim mumbles, watching as Spitfire races neck to neck with Moonknight. Tim wonders if it's going to be a tie. Though, he did add something else to the car. Maybe Bruce told you, maybe not. If she manages to find it, she could win. Though, he's more curious to know if rocket boosters were technically allowed in a race like this. Who knows.

You grimace in the car, pressing a couple of buttons as your fingers brush over something new. You wonder if it's the self-destruction button that Batman had told you not to touch. Yet, you shrug it off, clicking it anyway, slamming back into your seat as you speed past Spitfire, breaking past the finish line, steering with one hand as you try and stop the rockets on your car, clicking on the screen, grimacing. You'd rather not call Oracle. Last time you did, she tried pulling your social security number on you, only to find a lack of one.

Your heart races in your chest as you press the button again, the rockets only growing stronger, and you groan as you type in a code you had memorized from the Batcave, successfully shutting down the systems on the car, turning it back into a regular vehicle. You don't know who invented that line of code, but god were you thankful that you memorized it. The car eventually slows, and you drift next to the other racers, parking successfully. You step out of the car, leaning on the door as it closes, the blood in your body flushing your skin.

"Moon, are you alright?" Spitfire rushes next to you, hand on your bicep.

"I'm fine." You pull the helmet from your head, meeting eyes with Tim's again. You raise a brow, and you lower your voice to Spitfire. "That girl isn't a girl."

"Drag maybe?"

"No." You mumble, turning to shield your mouth from his eyes. "Undercover cop. Either that or they're a vigilante. They used Batman's card to get in."

"Ah." She frowns. "Are we safe?"

"I'll deal with it if he throws a fit." You stretch your neck, placing your helmet onto the top of your car. "Gotta submit a report later."

"I'm not looking forward to that." Lightwing groans. "Our next race is supposed to be motorbikes."

"Ewwww." Spitfire shudders. "I hate racing those."

"I hope they don't have rocket boosters like on my car today." You shudder.

"Alright, go get your cash prize, girlie." Spitfire smacks your back to send you walking to the podium.

You step over to the makeshift stage, taking the cheque from the announcer, blowing a kiss at the phones as you stare at the blank cheque. Two million was the max, but you were told you'd get to cash out five if you could win the race. You pause, though, when the girl you were staring at earlier makes her way out of the stands and walks over. Spitfire tries stopping her, but she seems to say something that has her quiet as she steps up the podium to meet you. You tilt your head at her.

Tim opens his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

"You know." You pause to wave the announcer off, hooking your arms under her knees to rest your chin on her chest. "You're real hot as a woman, but I'm sure you'd look better as a man."

Tim flushes as you press a kiss to the crown of his head, and you set him on the podium, lips pulled into a pretty smile. Your voice lowers as you rest your chin in the valley of his tits, blinking up at him. You jut out your bottom lip as Tim swallows thickly. Your fingers lace into his hair, nails digging into his scalp gently, blinking slowly, reading his emotions, his expressions, his everything. You look entranced, and Tim almost feels bad that he's here undercover and you're staring starry-eyed over someone who doesn't exist.

"What's your name, pretty girl?" You raise a brow at her, grinning.

"Caroline." He swallows again, heart racing in his chest. You're too attractive for your own good. Maybe you were using that against him. "Caroline Hill."

"Well, Carrie," You hum, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I think you're gorgeous. Care for a drink sometime?"

"A-as much as I would like to, I'm not into w-women." He stumbles. (A bold lie. He's never had a worse panic over a woman in his life.)

"Quite a shame." You mumble. "You're so pretty too..."

You step down the stage, holding the cheque up as the girls cheer with you.

Tim should really talk to Bruce about what the batmobile was doing in a street racing event.

Though, as Tim tries to run a background check on you, he finds nothing come up. Even in the private files of the batcomputer. Even on the card that gave him access, all the fingerprints were wiped clean. He finds practically nothing, not that it gets to him, he just looks harder. He practically lives in the cave now. He doesn't remember the last day he got regular sleep. He has nothing on you.

So, he shows up at the next race as himself this time. He enters with the same card, and this time, you find him first.

"So? You related to B?" You hand him a can of unopened zesti, and he raises a brow at you. You raise a brow back at him, pointing at his card. "Card. That's a B exclusive card."

"How so?"

"Sponsor card." You smile. "Since it's light grey, that means it's my sponsor. My sponsor is B."

Tim frowns. "Who are you?"

"My question first."

"He's an aquaintance. Now my question." He opens his can, pressing the drink to his lips.

"I'm a racer." You smile.

"I meant as a person." He clicks his tongue.

"Why don't you find out?" You bat your lashes at him prettily, hand pressed to his abdomen, leaning in to blink at him devilishly. "Or are you not into women too?"

Tim's heart races in his ears, swallowing as he tries his best to match your pace. "What does the media say?"

"Lots" You grin, pressing yourself closer to him, arms wrapped around his neck, your air mixed with his, lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. "But all I hear these days is how someone keeps trying to hack my personal information."

"Yeah?" He tilts his head, placing the can to the side.

"Mhm." You hum.

Tim smiles at you, dangerously, all while his mind is a jumbled mess. You had an effect on him that he dared not to pry further into, but god were you intoxicating — bad for his brain even. He finds himself leaning closer to you, all systems going off about how this was bad for him, but he doesn't care. Not when your perfume smells tantalizing and the only thing he wants to do is kiss you sick— make out with you until you're whimpering against his lips, knees giving out under you, and brain fuzzy with only him. His eyes darken with the thoughts, a smile on his face.

You remove your arms from him, tapping his shoulder twice with an innocent smile. "Thanks for giving me the last piece."

Tim raises a brow as you peel yourself from him, his mask in your fingers, smile not so pure anymore.

There was no way.

Tim grabs it back from you as you back up, both hands in the air, and as he shoves it into somewhere you can't touch, you hop over the stands, landing on the dirt with a thud. Tim frowns in frustration as you send a wink his way, starting final check-ups for the race. It's bikes today, and Tim recognizes all of the models. A copy of his own bike is in Spitfire's hand right now. Maybe this was how Bruce figured out whether or not his bike was safe to ride after his own customizations. Jason's bike is in another rider's hands, red helmet with black— presumably Cardinal, and Dick's bike is in Lightwing's hands. You have Bruce's bike still. It checks out now.

This was the testing ground for the vigilante vehicles in Gotham.

The fact that you had figured him out so quickly only meant that you had realized faster than everyone else.

But there had to be a reason that no one part of the team saw the similarities between their vehicles and the ones that the Gotham vigilantes used. There had to be a reason that only you would be crazy enough to figure it out just based on vehicle models. Maybe he could use the status card to talk to you all for a little. Too bad you were already checking the vehicle. He should have asked earlier— strange. It's not like him to be this disoriented.

You win the race.

It's obvious. B's bike was designed with the fastest engine possible, and in a race of pure speed, it would win. No matter how much Tim tinkered with his bike, he wasn't allowed to go faster than Bruce. The man had said it was too dangerous, and Tim could see why. The Batbike was a nightmare to steer at such high speeds. Though, he does wonder where everyone on the track gets their practice. There's never a peak of sound during the day on the track, and neither was there much noise at night when you weren't racing.

Tim does not dig the idea that he has to pull his money card out, but the more competitive part of him does wonder what it would look like to have you fold for him.

"A drink?" He leans over the railing, card held up, raising a brow at you.

You wave him off, handing your helmet to someone else, clicking your tongue.

"That's not the way to ask a pretty woman out on a date, boy." You raise a brow, lips pulled upwards in a grin. "Maybe ask better next time. Some of us have black cards too."

So Tim watches as you leave with the rest of the racers, his heart racing in his chest.

It takes ten more tries for Tim to trace from someone else to you.

He blinks at the woman on the screen, and he pauses to ponder. Perhaps.

However, all of his thoughts are thrown off when a command is called from behind him by Bruce with a new case. A file is handed to him, a file with a rather unoriginal name, and it makes Tim raise a brow. Surely it was a jest.

"I assure you, they are very much real." Bruce rolls his eyes, cowl peeled off, humming with a drink pressed to his lips.

"Is this related to the serial murder of rapists going around in Gotham?" He opens the file.

"Not just Gotham." Bruce hums. "Clark did a report on the serial murder of both registered and unregistered sex offenders in Metropolis as well. It has been a trend. Despite the vigilantism, it is still very much illegal to kill someone."

"I don't see too much of a problem with killing a rapist." Tim presses his coffee to his lips, scanning through the files Bruce hands him. The target seems rather clear. The killer does not regard anyone in the way, knocking everyone out and always only killing the rapist. A maneater. The name given to the murderer was maneater, as if it were some ploy. In some cases, the victims were found with their pants unzipped and an anti-rape condom stuck on them, writhing in pain as they were almost always found dead with poison in their system.

Those who suffered more gruesome deaths... either found castrated with their genitals lying not too far away, or a hole where their heart was supposed to be, the organ missing. It reminds him almost of Heartless, but... that is not the case. This is a vigilante no different from them... just less sparing and guaranteed murder. Now, does Tim solve the case or let the vigilante free...

He does not know what possesses him to ask you of all people, but your response does not help much.

"Moonknight." Tim hums, adjusting his glasses as he puts them on. "May I pick at your brain?"

"Is this about the serial murders?" You wipe the helmet in your hand, cheque tucked safely into your wallet.

Tim nods. "Thoughts?"

"I feel like the murderer's doing us ladies a favor." You shrug. "Think about it."

"I know, but murder is a little..."

"Little hypocritical of you, you know?" You raise a brow. "Must I name your war crimes?"

"No." Tim hums. "Perhaps I should do some digging anyway."

"Wouldn't hurt to have it on file in case you do need it one day." You eye one of the newer men on the track, grinning at Spitfire as she greets him. "Hm?"

Tim's eyes trail up to Spitfire.

Similar build. His glasses indicate the same.

"It's not any of my girls." You crack open the can of soder. "I promise they're clean. B runs background checks on all of us."

Tim mulls over your words.

Scary.

Yet, he visits you anyway, money piling in his back pocket as you win round after round, small talk rolling off your lips in a sort of practiced way, smile inviting as you turn down his request to grab a drink again, humming quietly as Tim's eyes trail down to the small of your back, brow raised as he notices your shorts peeking out past your pants.

"What does it take for a date with you?"

"Maybe not being part of law enforcement." You hum. "Legal or not."

"Why? Worried I'll turn you in?"

"No..." You trail off, chewing your top lip as you turn your head at Lightwing. "Well, if you save Lightwing from some trouble, I'll consider."

"What's wrong?"

"You see the man talking to her?"

Tim raises a brow and spots another group of men not too far off. "Bingo."

You wink in her direction, and Tim hums.

"Hey big fella. Having fun so far?"

You watch as Tim tears the man apart, Lightwing leaving at one point to stand next to you.

"Really, I don't know what you see in that man."

"Not much." You purse your lips, smiling. "Something tells me he's the one."

"I'm willing to bet that he is not." She mumbles.

Yet, as Tim barely lifts a finger to piss the man off, you grin.

"Oh, he's definitely the one."

Tim runs the information, stalking down the final member of your racing team, matching the majority of information to the final member, brow raised when he realizes that Cardinal was not part of B's files either, hunting the woman down as he searches for her current location, and it makes Tim's stomach churn uncomfortably when he realizes how eerily similar the racer is to the described criminal. The person who was dubbed Cardinal had been face-matched to someone who had entered Metropolis just a little bit before the serial murders. It made Tim nauseous.

"Got any leads?"

"Might be one of the previous racers." Tim grimaces. "Of the race tracks."

"Cardinal? I assure you it is not her."

"Really? There had been rumors—"

"It is not." Bruce mumbles. "You know who Cardinal is. It is not her. They may have similar builds, but it is not her."

"Who is Cardinal?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough."

Bruce's evasion of his question does not help the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

You end up with Tim on the date, hair ruffled as he picks you up in his bike, hand held out to you as you take it, humming. It's supposed to be simple. Though, you suppose simple for a Wayne is impossible to determine. You never know what to expect from him. Though, when he pulls you to the local diner, you find it impossible to not know he's the one. It's really too simple.

"Would you tell me about Cardinal?" Tim finally asks you proper questions once the two of you finish ordering.

"Do you think she's the one?" You raise a brow.

"You said your girls are innocent."

"The ones I currently race with." You hum, reaching for the bread on the table.

"And Cardinal?"

"I don't know much about her. She didn't talk much."

"But she was aggressive, no?"

"No." You hum. "She drove into Gotham because she saw something. She also raced her own bike. No one knows who she is."

Tim connects something in his mind, and it sends him back to step one.

"Would you be able to help if I gave you the file?"

"Isn't it just what's available online?"

"One final thing. The killer in Metropolis might be the same person." Tim mumbles. "Thank you."

The food is presented before the two of you, and you stab into your pasta. "I don't think so. Did you track anyone else that entered and exited Metropolis that was a Gothamite?"

Tim shakes his head. "I find it strange."

"Perhaps magic?"

"Not impossible." Tim mumbles. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Tinker." You hum.

"With your bike?"

"No. That's B's property. I tend to tinker with smaller things. It's always fun to build a PC from scratch."

"Ah, you're quite handy with tech." Tim hums, blowing on his pasta. "Anything else?"

"I like watching detective shows." You pause to think. "And racing. I think that's about it. How 'bout you, boy wonder?"

"That's my brother." He laughs dryly.

Tim finds that it's intriguing to talk to you. You know everything that he does, and it seems you know much more than what you let him in on. Dare he say it, perhaps he's met his match.

Tim sends you home and starts patrol. Gotham had become eerily quiet since the murderer had been on the loose.

Though, he has a knack for saying things too early.

A man dies the same day, and B finds his way there with Tim, the two of them sweeping down and kicking the man down, a woman shaking as Tim shields her, holding his cape out, making sure to not look at the way her clothes are ripped up and she's shaking with an intensity unknown to him. He can feel the vibrations of her skin through his cape. The fear is easily contagious had he not known.

"B?"

"Dead. The poison spread too fast."

The woman doesn't look like she was aware.

"Did you buy the product?" Tim raises a brow, eyes scanning her face for any changes in emotion, and she shakes her head.

"I... a-a friend got me o-one on because—" She gasps, shoulders trembling still. "I-it saved her life."

"Do you know where she bought it?"

The woman shakes her head. "Th-they were giving them out on the streets a while back. It's been m-months."

"May we take one back?"

B shakes his head. "Gordon is coming. We will decide then. Oracle?"

Oracle has no intel either, and Tim wonders just how far this murderer is willing to go. If he just let them kill all the rapists in Gotham, then it would result in a number of the population as gone. If he checked them, perhaps the offenders in Gotham would assume they are protected by B — which truly could not be further from the truth.

"Where are you living? I will take you back." Tim catches a figure in the corner of his eye.

"B."

The man shakes his head.

"I-I'll be fine." She mumbles. "May I borrow a... clothes?"

B nods, and Tim hands the woman to him as he takes a good look at the man on the ground.

Familiar. He looks familiar.

The scan from his mask indicates the same. The man who had been talking to Spitfire at the tracks. It was the man who had been talking to her. Some clicks in the back of Tim's mind, his fingers pressing to the silicone, pressing the dirt and grime to the back of his glove to check for DNA.

Just the shaking woman.

"B, I need one of them." He speaks firmer this time. "There has to be some unidentified DNA on one of them."

"There are in one of the files on our computer. It was sent this afternoon." B hums. "The police are arriving. Come on."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, yet he lingers, eyes trailing on the woman as he waits.

One of the policemen is an unregistered sex offender.

He clicks on his mask as he zooms in, a dark figure flying out of the alleyway at the man, and Tim watches as a claw digs into the man's genitals, ripping off with a sound that shakes the walls, followed by a guttural scream. The policemen shoot at the figure, but they don't react, only retreating back into the walls, seemingly unhurt by the bullets.

"Oracle, did you catch that?"

"No face was detected."

"How about figure?"

"Non-human." Oracle mumbles. "I can't identify anything."

"Tsk." Tim clicks his tongue.

"Though, it has to be a shadow ability. Perhaps something adjacent to it. They're gone, right?"

Tim hums into the mic. "Affirmative."

Tim ignores the way the shadow shapes weirdly underneath his feet.

"You can come out." He taps the corner of his mask for reinforcements, taking a step back into the moon as the shadow forms, a smile of white forming into a human.

"Can you—"

"Neither. All indications of sex are missing."

"Oh..."

Their voice is nothing short of horrifying to him.

"I caught a bird." It grins, and as Tim takes a step back, he finds that his other foot has a shadow warping around his ankle.

"Who are you?"

"We are the night." It sings. "We are the darkness..."

Tim knows what's next.

"We are... vengeance."

"That's rather cringe, don't ya think?" Tim raises a brow.

A batarang flies from behind him, and the shadows only create a hole for the weapon to fly through. The shadow splits into two people, and Tim smiles.

"Gotcha."

"Ah ah," The one on the left shakes its hand. "We were promised... freedom."

"Only where you belong." Batman shines a flashlight at the creature, and Tim watches as it retreats back into the shadows, his ankle free. "And you. Next time, just shine the flashlight."

"Are they weak?" Tim raises a brow. "Just to light?"

"It stuns." Batman nods.

"Go track the leftovers on your ankle back in the cave."

"Will do." Tim pauses before he goes. "Is it an alien?"

"No. Something worse."

Tim does NOT know what could be worse than an alien. (He lies. He does.)

The DNA tracks too many women to count. One shows up and then the next, and eventually, Tim has at least twenty women pulled up on his screen, all pronounced dead after being found used and discarded. It is horrifying. Tim may not understand just how terrifying it is to be a woman, but as he finds children, he seems to understand just how disgusting this is. Girl after girl, woman after woman, every last one of them were used and discarded bare for the world to see, photographed and made a case study out of — all who met their unfortunate end and their rapists never see the end of their life the same way they did.

It is disgusting, but something else is discovered.

He does not remember if it is something new, but it seems strange. It is not a shadow, but rather a composition of human souls forced to merge into an unrecognizable shape. It is science, not an alien, and Tim understands why it is worse. It is an unfortunate victim and not an alien. It is someone who had been forced to change into something unloveable. He wonders if the souls of the unfortunate make up the shadows.

Ah. If they are shadows...

Tim turns around as the shadows form a human again, shorter than he is, apple of its cheeks soft and gentle. A girl. It is a girl this time; not a woman.

"Are you a victim?"

It does not answer him.

"Tim? Tim, do you hear me? Red!"

"It has not attacked yet." Tim answers. "How many of you are there?"

The child does not respond, holding up one finger, and then two, and three, and eventually there are too many fingers sticking out of the hand that Tim had lost count.

"Many."

"What's the deal?"

"I matched the DNA." Tim swallows. "I won't hurt you, but please—"

The shadow dissolves, and Tim lets out a breath, staring at the faces plastered across the screen of the Batcave.

"Tim?"

"Oracle." His voice goes quiet. "They are all victims of... The computer just keeps going."

Eventually, B returns, staring at the wall of faces Tim left, finding the man in his room, glasses on as he stares at his PC, case file after case file being read, news article after news article. There is more than one soul occupying the shadows, and Tim reads one after the other of how they were murdered. Stabbed, strangled, shot, mangled, burned. None of the souls were able to escape death at the hands of their rapist. It was sickening.

"It is not a human." Tim speaks, staring at Bruce at the door. "We can not arrest it."

"Is it humanoid?"

"No. It is a shadow of vengeance."

"There has to be a way to stop it from collecting more souls."

Tim closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he sighs.

"And if I do not want to?"

"Tim."

"I know." He mumbles, exhaustion written all over his face. "How will we destroy the remaining souls?"

"How many women were identified?"

"There are currently twenty seven." Tim mumbles. "There may be even less if more of the men die."

"The vengeance of a ghost." Bruce mumbles. "Just find a way to stop the addition of souls. Surely, someone is collecting souls and adding them."

Tim finally closes his eyes when the sun starts peeking over the horizon.

"Sorry." Tim shows up to your meetup place, eyebags extra bad, and you raise a brow at him.

"Something up?"

"What would you do if someone was collecting the souls of the victims of rape and kill and turning them into a shadow of some sort to let them have vengeance on their rapist?"

"Wow, what a loaded question." You mumble.

"Thoughts?" Tim closes his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Feel free to ignore it if not—"

"I mean... it makes sense." You hum. "Is it scientifically immoral? Yes. Is it in some way morally correct? Perhaps. Their lives were taken and their souls haunt the earth because they are still held down by things they could not resolve while they were alive. Perhaps to the living, they are a monster, but to the dead? to the dead, they are a savior."

Tim pauses to think. "Should the person be punished?"

"Under the law? Sure."

"How about according to yourself?"

"No." You mumble. "If I was raped like that, I would love to ruin the life of the man who ruined mine. I heard a police officer got his dick ripped off. Is he still alive?"

"Alive." Tim nods. "Vitals are stable, but he can no longer procreate... obviously."

"Deserved, maybe. I heard he got off with only two months of jail time after the initial trial."

Tim does not answer, pausing to mull over the case.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." You stand up, stretching your legs. "Shall we get something to eat?"

"You have food by here?"

"No, but since you brought your bike, I can take us somewhere."

"It better not be the diner from last time."

It is NOT the diner from last time

Instead, Tim finds himself seated outside of a Batburger place, thanking you as you hand him his order, clear view of the alleyway.

"This place is a little..."

"It's where a lot of drug trades happen." You hum, staring at the alleyway behind him. "Also where a lot of sex trafficking occurs."

"Ah, right." He mumbles. "Red Hood manages that, no?"

"Not as much." You bite into the burger, humming happily. "Sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting."

"I think the burgers and shake could fix me."

You raise a brow.

"As much as it can try, of course."

"Nah, I have those days too." You hum. "Did you find much on the souls?"

"I just wonder if they are decreasing after extracting revenge on their former rapist." Tim mumbles.

"I heard somewhere they started off in the fifties." You hum, continuing with your burger.

"...fifties? Where did you even hear that?"

"Rumor gets around quickest at the racetrack." You mumble. "Cardinal kept closely with the news. Apparently the figure was as large as a human at one point."

"Is twenty souls not enough to form a full grown woman?"

"Perhaps it picks a child for other reasons." You reach for a fry. "Am I being of much help, mister detective?"

"Somewhat." Tim pauses when he hears rustling behind him. "...May I?"

"Careful, they carry stun guns."

Tim nods, leaving you alone, and you click on your phone as you watch Red Robin swing in, kicking and freeing the poor girl, handing her off to the police as you stare at the two men knocked out. Tim had overestimated just one thing.

From behind, a spike of darkness pieces through the men's hearts, killing them on the spot as Tim holds a hand over the eyes of the woman.

Dead. The two men are dead.

The shadow forms behind them, three young women who look no older than the one that Tim is covering the eyes of.

"How many of you are left?"

This time, the shadow forms a 24.

The number is going down.

So, Tim reports the findings to Bruce, changing out of his suit to get back to you, nodding as he sits down and sighs.

"Sorry, stomach died."

"Nah, don't worry about it." You sip on your shake, humming. "Duty calls."

"Are you racing sometime soon?"

"I think B's trying to have us race less lately." You hum. "I won't be racing for some time. The only reason we raced so often a while back was because there were so many upgrades being implemented."

"So you have more free time?"

"Yeah." You hum. "I was thinking of traveling."

"Where to?"

Tim knows something you don't. The gentle taps of your painted nails omit some eerie sense of death, and it seems that no matter how much Tim likes you and feels fine around you, it is impossible to ignore that eerie sense of death. It reminds him of the first time he met you, stare of a thousand souls. Yet, it seems that...

"Staring?"

"You're rather pretty." He hums, pressing his napkin to his cheeks. "Is it not normal to stare a little?"

"Oh, look at you and your smooth words." You hum.

"I mean them." Tim stares at you.

You only give him a weak look.

You don't seem to believe Tim when he says you're everything.

And maybe at some point in time, Tim had realized that your words swayed him harder than they need to. He does not know when he had ended up so deep with his fingers and hands stained with a passion for you, but as it drags him under, he finds that it's fine. Maybe you were just destined for him in some way. If he would be dragged under, then he would simply find a way to clear it out. He enjoys the sensation of drowning in you. Maybe he is just weak for you.

"Do you love me?" You tilt your head, milkshake straw on your lips as Tim sorts through his files.

Tim stares at you, pushing his glasses up. "Why?"

"Curious." You hum. "You've brought me to your place, after all. Isn't this the nice little boat you got with your boyfriend? I remember the media going insane."

"Perhaps." Tim mumbles. "I brought you here to help me with the case, though. I don't think love is the right word for what we feel towards each other right now."

"Mm." You nod slowly, picking up some papers. "The number went down?"

"Yes. The two men who were killed resulted in three less entities in the shadow." Tim mumbles. "I just wonder if the number is going to increase."

"You wouldn't want it to, huh?" You hum.

"Prefferably no." Tim pauses. "Though, I suppose if the entity is acting on its own, then I can not do much to stop it. Someone is letting the souls merge into the shadows."

"If it's just cells, shouldn't it be the act of a human? That must mean they have some sort of way of accessing the victims' bodies."

"That would be the case, but a further search indicated that they were not picking up the cells, but rather just souls. I don't know when we got an upgrade to be able to locate souls, but—"

"It was probably when you tried cloning your best friend." You don't bother letting him finish the sentence.

Your statement freaks Tim out.

"H-how the hell do you know?!"

"B." You puff out your cheeks, continuing with reading the file.

B does NOT have that information open to just anyone to access.

Yet, Tim shuts his mouth, continuing with the file, taking the chance to seal your fingerprint. He runs the match while you continue checking, and he ends up in a dead end again. You do not exist in the database. Your fingerprint is not a real person. Surely there was a chance that you were not quite human either.

"Just how cautious are you?"

"Very." You hum. "My fingerprint won't show up."

"What gives you the boldness to say that?"

"A gamble." You hum. "I race for B. Surely, he would not do something as cruel as that."

"He is consistently paranoid."

"That does not matter." You click your tongue. "He could not hold me down if he tried."

Tim senses that there is a certain level of untruth to your words, but he can not say just what it is.

Three days later, four more men are found dead by the docks. Tim checks them with the police, Oracle's voice in his ear as he observes them. All three have had their hearts pierced through, a gaping hole left behind. Tim looks to the side at the shadows brewing beneath the water, and he observes that the number shown is four less than before.

"These men have to be part of an organization."

"They are." Oracle notes. "Human trafficking. These are the men who are part of a human trafficking specifically for sex workers."

"So... rapists."

"Yes."

"Did we ever get a number on them?"

"No."

Tim nods at the police as they arrive, grappling away.

Maybe he's committing a sin by letting the shadow get away with the murders. It would be impossible to hold them down, but he wonders if he should ever shine a light on them when they kill.

Back at the cave, the young girl emerges again, smiling at Tim as he raises a brow.

"What?"

"Twenty." The voice speaks, much younger this time.

"Are you all children?"

The widening of the smile indicates a yes.

"How old were you?" He holds his hand out for the shadow.

His question goes ignored, the shadow disappearing as B returns to the cave.

"The number of shadows decreased again." Tim stares at B as he undresses.

"How do you know the shadows aren't lying?"

"Here." Tim shows B the newest scan of the souls, and the number has shrunk.

"How did you scan it?"

"I do not know. We hadn't been able to scan based on soul previously."

Bruce clicks on the computer, eyes focusing on the application, taking over as Tim sits to the side. He looks further, digging into the code as he pauses and points at a line.

"Moonknight."

"The racer?"

Bruce reads the code, and Tim follows, pausing.

"She's a computer system?"

"No, but you probably scanned some system in when you ran her through the system the first time."

"Just what is she?"

"I don't ask questions, and neither does she. Just a worker."

"Alright." Tim mumbles. But the issue was you do ask questions. You ask plenty of questions and each one brings you closer than the last. He had already lost his identity to you because of your charm. Perhaps Bruce was not far off. Though, if Tim could not find you, then Bruce probably could not either.

The next time he meets up with you, you finally let him into your apartment.

"Oh, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you love me." Tim hums. "What brings you to invite me here?"

"No, I didn't feel like going out today." You shut the door behind him. "Pizza's on the counter."

"Where are the others?"

"Racing." You hum.

"I thought you said there weren't any races?"

Tim finds that you're a liar.

Somewhere down in the place he's been pulled to, he finds that there is endless amounts of darkness, something brooding behind your soul as you talk to him, smile on your face. You called him the one, but if you were the one, he wouldn't feel so turbulent. Shaking waters. The water he's been pulled under is unmoving and serene, only in the middle of the sea, making the peace eerie rather than soothing. Rather than the liquid moving, he finds that he's spinning further and further down.

"I'm not racing for the time being." You hum. "The others are racing with their own bikes."

"Do you not own one?"

You shake your head. "I prefer other forms of transportation."

Tim raises a brow but doesn't question it.

Even when the two of you are tangled under your sheets and he listens to your heartbeat, the sense of uneasiness doesn't leave. You are too perfect. Even if you were to drag him down with you, he would only know how to hold onto you and not swim. Maybe this is his end. Unless you free him, he fears he will be stuck with you forever. Drawn to the beating of your heart, Tim is stuck being in love with you for the rest of his life. If you would drag him into the depths of your world and ruin his life, then so be it. As long as neither of you cross the line, neither of you would be hurt.

"Would you like to race?"

You raise a brow at Tim.

"Once in a lifetime." He offers.

"On the track?"

"We can race during the day." He hums.

"Not a day person."

"Then at sunrise."

You pause to think about it.

"If that's what you want."

"You make it sound like it's something I want to do." Tim whispers, chin resting on your chest as it rises and falls.

"Is it not?" You run your fingers through his hair, vibrations of your voice making him purr.

When Tim wakes in the morning, Oracle sends him a news article. Ten men found dead at the docks. Ten men were killed, and Tim can only wonder how many of the shadows found peace from their deaths. Though, as your fingers scratch at his scalp again, he could worry about it later. He'd rather not stir up deep waters.

"Ten died?"

"Mhm." Tim closes his eyes, mumbling. "Ten men."

"From the same organization?"

Tim is too tired to consider how you would know all the men are from the same organization when it has not been disclosed to the public.

"You seem to know much more than you let on."

"Of course I do." You hum. "But I won't race you until you find out."

"Then give me a month." He mumbles, eyes closing as he drifts back to sleep. You're warm, and for the first time in a while, he gets some rest.

The next race Tim goes to, he notices Spitfire and Lightwing are missing.

You tilt your head at Tim from the track, waving as he waves back, lips curled upwards in a gentle smile.

He refuses to meet the truth.

There is some sense of security that lies in playing stupid, eyes closed and fingers reaching out into a void of nothingness, knowing that as long as he did not know, he would be safe. Yet, there is always the nagging in the back of his mind, uncertain about his future, uncertain about what would happen if he continued to play dumb. He knows he'll get called out for it by Steph soon, but it really... he was only a fool in love. He can not do something so terrible to his heart.

Even as you bring back the trophy and greet Tim with a thrashing kiss against his lips, breath hot against his as he tries to ignore the truth of the world beneath his feet embedded into the shadows, he knows that he can only play stupid for so long. Soon, this racetrack will become empty, and one day, you too will leave him for the world that he refuses to uncover for his own safety. He loves you, but he can only do so much when he's young and stupid.

"Can I take you back to mine?" Tim whispers, eyes begging quietly as you lick your lips, helmet in your hand as you confirm with a kiss.

The gentle rocking of Tim's place is peaceful in the Gotham waters, port comfortable as he pushes back all of his knowledge. It is a curse to be wise, yet Tim finds that there is nothing he can do when he just refuses to. He would choose you even if it meant laying what he had known before down. It pains him to know that he should not, and you would not let him, but he is foolish and young, eyes gentle as he drinks up the way you lay beneath him, the moon coating you in a lovely white as he furrows his brows to forget about it all.

Your skin is soft against Tim's hands, plush of your waist filling the spaces between his fingers as you stretch your arms above your head, eyes half-lidded as he pleases you — himself. It makes no difference. Turbulent waters have long become the place where he finds his rest, eyes half-lidded as he listens to the way you breathe, both beneath him and in the dead of the night. Life becomes slightly more bearable with you around, exhaustion no longer as suffocating as he's used to. Perhaps he loves you or such. Perhaps he does not. Most certainly, he knows he cares.

In the afterglow of sweat and skin, Tim finds that you are no different from him.

"How many of them are left?"

Tim stares outside the window, recalling the last murder in Gotham.

"They're almost gone."

"That's good."

You close your eyes, lashes brushing Tim's neck as you rest your neck over his arm.

"When will we race?"

"I told you. When you find out."

"Find what, exactly?"

You do not answer, closing your eyes and succumbing to exhaustion instead.

Ultimately, Tim knows.

He knows what he's to look for, and he knows just what you might be. It scares him that you might have lied to him for so long, the shadows and souls lurking beneath the surface of the water finally snaking around his ankle and pulling. The big screen in the Batcave is of no help either, only a single person with an obscured soul, and Tim knows deep down that it is yours. You are a victim of the same organization, an amalgamation of vengeful souls all combined together for the sole purpose of seeking vengeance.

Tim stares at the shadow forming behind him, digits dropping by the day as he reports to Bruce about just what was happening in Gotham. The moral code to prevent murder is strong, but the understanding that a few lives of a few criminals for the cost of a safer Gotham was not a world-ending trade-off. Tim understands that much, at the very least. He knows Bruce does too. In a world where neither of them have to work against human trafficking as hard as previously, Tim finds that the waters are both comforting and vicious. He can not be touched in the warmth of your skin, but others will die from the toxin that he is immune to.

So, as Tim crosses off the final ones in the list of souls, he texts to let you know that the organization has been wiped, asking you which sunrise would work best for you.

You refuse to pick a time during the day because you are afraid of being burnt.

You do not exist in the database because you are not quite human.

You exist because you are someone's hatred and memories, manifesting in the form of the shadows and risking a life you do not have in order to see what is worth living for, vehicles meaning nothing to you as you speed through the racetrack at night, only Aquastar left next to you as she too disappears into the shadows after all the guests leave. There are barely any guests now that Tim looks. Perhaps more than half of them had been tired souls, begging for some sort of help, seeking refuge in the way you would risk your life for some sort of power above the law.

You are home to the souls, regardless of whether they are alive or dead. If someone seeks death, they reach for your arms, holding their hands around your shoulders as you stare past their skin, into the depths of the darkness beyond — something Tim is terrified of touching, Yet, with the feeling of your skin memorized between his fingers, he knows why people go to you to look for something.

You are so living yet so dead.

There is comfort only you can provide.

You meet Tim at the racetrack, sitting on your bike as Tim drives in past the gates. The darkness in your soul has grown lighter. Something has changed from when he first met you. You are still so lovely in his eyes, yet it seems that you can not be together in a case like this. It is a shame. At least he gets to race you, popping off his helmet as he notices how empty the stands are compared to when you used to race. The end of your need in Gotham has arrived, and the end of your services to WE has ended as well. There will be no more of you one day in the future, and Tim knows that one day, he too will be cursed to forget everything about you.

The people are gone.

The racers are gone.

And perhaps after this race, you will be too.

You enable the speaker, fingers clicking on the screen at the podium, giving the two of you a twenty-minute warmup.

Tim wonders just how fast he can go. He watches you from the side as you warm up your bike and drive, speeding around the track with practice that can only come from muscle memory. Yet, he drives around the track and gradually speeds up, trying to get a hand on how to race around. Tim finds that he's a little rusty, making several more rounds around the track as you sit on the side, clicking on your phone and scrolling through. Tim does not know how to bring it up.

"What does the winner get?" You look up from your phone, hopping on your bike as you wait for the countdown.

"Whatever the winner wishes."

"That's quite the bet." You hum, staring up at the light as Tim gets ready.

"Of course."

You start your bike, speeding past Tim as the light shows green, Tim tight behind you as he catches up to you. You wonder and think, leaning to the side as the bike follows, letting Tim pass you as you trail behind him. Tim finishes the first lap relatively quickly, and he realizes that you've fallen back a significant amount. He's unsure whether or not to speed up, but as he finishes his second lap, he finds that you're still far behind.

You cut him from the left, successfully stopping Tim from hitting a wall.

Tim speeds up to chase after you, wondering when you had the time to cut him off.

Yet, the end is evident, your bike parked at the end after your third lap, a grin on your face as he stares at you.

The souls are gone, and you look so, so lonely.

The lights shut as the two of you sit by the podium, tablet in your hand as you kick your legs, and you finally speak up.

"I know you found out."

Tim grimaces. "...why?"

You stare at Tim, peeling back your jacket, throwing it at him as he stares at you, watching as your eyes turn pitch black, shadows forming underneath your skin and turning the entire podium dark, some sort of ancient power creeping up your hands to your forearms, darkness evident in every blink at him, lips curled up into an apologetic smile, and Tim feels the water surrounding him drain all at once. If he would not leave you, then you would leave him. You would force him out of the comfort of your waters, knowing that it would drown him one day.

"The shadow moves with you." Tim stares at you, swallowing thickly. "There is only one victim left. We both know who it is."

You stare at Tim, lips curling upwards as he remembers why your smile started looking so familiar at one point.

"You are the last." Tim picks his words carefully. "Are you a shadow?"

"No. Just a medium. I am very much alive." You smile.

"Who are you waiting to kill?"

"No one." You hum. "I am alive because I must hold onto the shadows for the next ones seeking vengeance."

"You are the source."

You ignore him.

"Are you human?"

You blink at him again, ignoring him once more. "Luckily, it seems the victims have lessened lately."

"Why had there been so many at once?"

"There was an organization." You rock on your heels, lips curled upwards. "Everyone in the organization has been wiped. No fret. They alone resulted in over fifty deaths of women after they reached the age threshold."

"The youngest was ten."

"Yes."

"And the oldest?"

"Most of them were killed once they turned 21." You hum. "Occasionally, if someone looked young enough, they would be killed later, but the majority of them were killed at 21."

"How many souls were there initially?"

"Well over a thousand." You hum.

"And only you are left."

"Yes."

"Why play savior?"

"Why not?" You grin. "I have done nothing but host the poor souls. That does not warrant for my arrest."

Tim knows there is an argument against it, but he does not think too hard.

"Next time a soul finds you, notify me. Send me an invite to your race."

"You know, Tim." You hum. "B no longer needs me."

Ah.

"Will you be gone?"

"Very much so."

"To where?"

You do not tell him.

"Write to me." He speaks again.

You shake your head.

"I can not."

"Why not?"

"Send me some flowers when you see me on the news. That is my wish."

Tim tries to not think too much about your final words to him. You left the next morning, morphed shadows in the city leaving with you, and Tim finds that soon, almost everyone forgets you had ever existed. You had come and gone, shadow of death leaving with you, but he finds that occasionally on the news, he hears word about a new racer, gender unidentifiable, face consistently hidden, only known by their speed. You have become a criminal under the law, racing between the crevices of cities, fake trophy after fake trophy taken home, death following wherever you went, sex trafficking decreasing whenever you rested at night.

Tim tries not to follow you all that much, but when you show up on camera on accident, your home is raided and you are killed on sight by the same men who had killed so many others.

It hurts Tim in the head, eyes closed as he tries his best to not think too much about your death and how you had known all this time, but it would forever haunt him. He still remembers the way the waves would rock gently underneath the moonlight when he was engulfed by you, eyes always tired but comfort always found, knowing that you would be his rest when he needed it. So, for him to see you dead on the news, he finds that perhaps he was just cursed to not be able to hold onto you — that he was destined to be stuck in place and watch as you died because you had made a minor mistake. A mistake that would not have cost his life, but cost yours instead.

Yet, he honors your promise, white chrysanthemums placed at your grave as he holds onto the umbrella, humming quietly. The rain splatters gently against the plastic, quiet drumming calming him as he stares at the carving on the grave. The media had reported this was your place of burial, though Tim did not know if it really was you. He could have only assumed off of the information given, matching your age slightly, and he wonders if there is some sort of universe out there where he would be able to just stay with you.

"Here to see her too?" A masked woman steps next to Tim.

"Yes. I promised I would send flowers once she showed up on the news."

"How lovely of you." The woman hums, placing down a blue lotus.

"Did... you know her?"

"I knew her quite well."

Tim stares down at his flowers, finally looking up at the woman.

"It's such a shame, huh? That she would die to the very organization that she had been working to take care of."

"Well, perhaps she had just understood what it meant to live when she died." You turn to Tim, pulling down your mask as you wait for it to register in his head. "What do you think, Ca—"

You don't get to finish your words before Tim wraps his arms around you with closed eyes.

"I love you too, boy wonder."

#good morning tim drake tag did you miss me? no? GOOD. #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #timothy drake x reader #tim x reader #☾.fics #☾.suggestive #contemplated not posting this but like. 10k words r NOT about to go to waste when my queue is empty

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Natsume Yuujinchou

the smallest things by taizi

In which Takashi comes into the Fujiwaras' lives much earlier on.

Untamed

Nice work if you can get it by deliciousblizzardshark (+ podfic)

(In order to make Wei Wuxian feel welcome at the Cloud Recesses, and to make sure people give him the respect he deserves (and definitely not to get into his pants), Lan Wangji hires him to be his advisor.)

“Lan Zhan, did you hire me just so you could punish people for disrespecting me?”

“No,” Lan Wangji said. “It is a side benefit.”

“Why did you hire me?”

“Because you are knowledgeable and skilled,” Lan Wangji said, “and I trust you to assist me in my work.”

Because everything is easier with you around and because I feel like a part of me is missing without you and because you can say things I can’t and because I need you he did not say.

“And you secretly like being a bitch to people,” Wei Wuxian added, with a sly grin.

Clone Wars

The Past Remains by otherhawk

The war drags on leaving trauma and destruction in its wake. After a bereaved Master is accused of harming his padawan, Obi-Wan is sent to talk to her, dredging up memories of his own past.

Betting by Proxy by kotekenobii

Newly transferred to the 212th Attack Battalion, Proxy finds himself cornered and given a secret mission by none other than THE Marshal Commander Cody.

Hic Sunt Lodices by handdrawnisopach, SniperAnon (The_Big_Reveal)

"..... Why do you live in a cave?"

Obi-Wan smiles, careful not to show his sharp teeth. "It's peaceful up here. The long climb means most people don't bother me, and no one might try to take my things. Also, maintaining a cave gives me plenty of space for my research without the expense and fuss of maintaining an estate."

He pulls out one of the large cushions so he can sit comfortably across from Cody. "I research magic," he explains. "Can't do it myself, but I have a good line in alchemy, chemistry, and pharmacy. I enjoy studying the more theoretical aspects too. So time and peace to do my reading and writing are important to me."

Cody nods slowly, his eyes sharper, more alert as he scans over the lair and the eclectic collection of items. Then his golden brown eyes drift to Obi-Wan. "Are you a dragon?" He asks, voice rough from exhaustion.

"Ah." Obi-Wan grips the hem of his skirt. "A bit? A bit dragony. Yes. That's fair."

Learned Men by Trixree

It becomes the Question—the one every vod is talking about from the bridge of the Negotiator to her dark bowels where the laundry rooms churn and chug along: who takes care of the General?

--

In which Obi-Wan is touch starved and his men take notice.

DC

Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once

'Drake?’

Tim felt like he was choking. His throat was tight. He couldn’t swallow.

‘Damian?’ He managed.

Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And-

Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t-

How had he been so stupid?

Or: Tim comes out to Damian and prepares for the entire family to know by morning. It just so happens that Damian can keep a secret. Multiple, actually.

Wedding Album by Ididloveyou_once

'Let’s elope,’ Tim said, a little desperation leaking into his voice, ‘we could be on our way to Thailand by the end of the day.’

‘Actually,’ Conner’s amused eyes flickered toward Tim's family gathered at the dining table, ‘I think we’re going to Greece now.’

Or: Tim and Conner are getting married and everyone wants to be involved (snapshots of wedding planning very loosely connected by the creation of a wedding album).

#i've been procrastinating making this for like 2 weeks straight #it's winter in australia and i'm SO sleepy #fic recs #my posts #weekly fic round up #dc recs #sw recs #untamed recs #ny recs

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Hair Trigger

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Superfam, YJ98

Summary: A junior at Gotham University, Jason finds it difficult to conceal his worsening mental health from his family and his friend, Jon Lane Kent. Family secrets are revealed and boundaries are pushed as Jason and Laney struggle to navigate through school, their romantic feelings, and their trauma. Could the reintroduction of Laney Kent be more trouble than it's worth, or is it just what Jason needed to confront the demons of his past?

I will also do trigger warnings for chapters and if there is smut I have the chapter(s) tagged so you don't have to worry about nsfw in the fic if you're just here for the story itself.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Jonathan Lane Kent, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Natalia Knight, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Cassie Sandsmark, Chris Kent, Bart Allen, Original Character(s)

Relationships: JayLaney, Clois, TimKon

Additional Tags: University AU, No Powers AU, Sharing A Bed, Romance, Angst

Chapter Three: Heads or Tails

A few days later, as Jason got ready for school, he decided to call Bruce out of curiosity. Bruce answered the phone immediately, apologizing for their last conversation. "Good morning," Jason greeted him.

"You're up early. Is something wrong?" Bruce asked. Jason grabbed his lunch from the refrigerator.

"No, I just wanted to call you," Jason replied, "I'm getting ready to go to work, and I wanted to thank you for respecting my space this weekend."

Bruce didn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he cleared his throat. Jason put his phone on speaker as he poured coffee into a thermos. "You didn't tell Lane about what happened?" Jason asked.

"No, I didn't tell him anything. I just asked Clark to give Laney your number, nothing else... Did you want to talk to me about what happened?" Bruce asked, and Jason started feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

"Kind of... But, not now. Maybe a different time?" Jason asked. Bruce made an affirmative noise. "I just wanted you to know that I miss you."

"I miss you too, Jason," Bruce whispered, "Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm," Jason answered as he slipped his shoes on.

"Do you think maybe we can have lunch over the phone later?" Bruce asked.

Jason grabbed his keys and shoved them in his pocket. "My break's at noon," Jason replied, "How's everybody?"

"They're okay. Dick went back to San Francisco yesterday," Bruce replied, "Damian's at his mother's... Tim's out of town with a few of his friends... But they're fine. Everyone's doing alright."

"That's good," Jason whispered as he made his way out of his apartment, "I'll talk to you at lunch?"

"I'll be looking forward to it," Bruce replied.

Jason made a soft noise and hung up before entering the tutoring center and clocking in. He set up his table, and a girl sat down across from him. He worked with her on a writing assignment for nearly thirty minutes, and she was immediately replaced with an older man.

"Good afternoon, young man. I don't need much help today. I just wanted to ask if you had any instructions for the Chicago format," the man asked. Jason nodded and took out a yellow piece of paper, and he explained where the same information could be found online. "Oh, I have one more question. Is the food in the cafeteria any good? I've forgotten my lunch."

"Uh-huh, I wouldn't eat anything from the fridge, but the cooked food is fine," Jason answered. The man smiled and thanked him, going about his way. For nearly an hour, Jason sat with no one else to assist, and he saw someone standing outside the glass doors. He leaned forward to see who it was, and by the time he could make out the face, she was sitting across from him at the table.

"Cass, you don't go here," Jason whispered. She shrugged.

"I didn't follow you. I was waiting for Steph," she replied, "What are you doing?"

"I'm working," Jason answered, "Steph has a class this early?"

Cass shook her head and tapped on the table. "Can I give you a hug?" Cass asked. Jason smiled and stood up, opening his arms and giving Cass a hug.

"When are you supposed to meet her?" Jason asked.

"Ten minutes from now. I'm early," Cass whispered as she sat back down across from him. "We miss you."

"Well, I work here Monday and Wednesday from eight to two, and Friday from eight to noon... So, I'm here most of the week if you wanna stop by," Jason replied. Cass smiled.

"I think I have to go now, but it was nice to see you," she smiled. Jason waved at her as she left the tutoring center, and he took out his phone and sent a text to Bruce. A few people stopped by asking for writing resources. For the most part, things were quiet.

The day seemed to drag on forever until lunchtime. He left the building and sat on a bench outside.

His phone rang, and he plugged in his headphones, answering with a controlled, "Hello?"

"Did you still want to have lunch?" Bruce asked.

"Mhm, I do... Um, Bruce, I need you to know I've never been mad at you. I'm just struggling with a lot of bad memories right now," Jason confessed. His hands shook as he opened his bag to get his lunch, and Bruce said something over the phone that Jason couldn't hear. "Huh?"

"I'm sorry... I was just a little shocked. Was it something that happened while you were with me?" Bruce asked.

"No, it wasn't you. It's not you... It's—." Jason swallowed hard. "Sorry... It's something I remembered from when I was little." Jason took a deep breath and went on to catalog several years' worth of abuse and torture while in tears. He could hear Bruce set the phone down, and he took another deep breath.

"Jason, I didn't know—."

"It all came flooding back last semester, and I couldn't explain it to you then," Jason mumbled. He felt as if he couldn't catch his breath.

"Jason, I'm glad that you shared this with me today... I'd like to think you're ready to come home now, but I imagine that's not the case just yet. Am I right?" Bruce asked. Jason made an affirmative noise.

"I don't wanna move back, but now that you know what's going on in my head, I'd like to visit," Jason answered. He wiped his face with his sleeve. "I just wanted you to know that I meant what I said about wanting to come home."

"You can come home whenever you want to. Jason, we love you..." Bruce swallowed hard. Jason nodded and took a deep breath.

"I love you too, Bruce," Jason replied and sniffed. Jason started on his lunch, and he could hear Bruce open a soda. "I saw Cass today."

"You did?" Bruce asked. Jason took a bite of his sandwich.

"Uh-huh, it was nice seeing her," Jason added.

"Pastrami?" Bruce asked.

"Tuna, I had pastrami on Thursday," Jason corrected him. They spoke to each other for a little while until they both finished eating, and Jason raised one of his legs and rested his chin on his knee. "It was nice speaking to you today."

"It was nice speaking to you too, Jason," Bruce replied. Jason hung up the phone and finished his lunch.

He drank the rest of his coffee and went back to work. He set up his table once more, and he finished out his shift. He walked across the campus to wait for his class to start and charge his phone.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the campus, Laney sat in a corner in the cafeteria, facetiming his father. "Are you staying out of trouble?" Clark asked. Laney nodded. "How was your weekend?"

"I had a great weekend. I went to a party in the East End with Jay, and I spent most of the weekend at his apartment... I left Sunday morning—." Laney moved closer to the phone to look at Clark.

"What?" Clark asked.

"You're buttering me up because Mom has bad news... Right?" Laney asked.

"What? No," Clark answered. Lois made a noise in the background and took the phone from Clark.

"Hi, Lane," Lois greeted him.

"Mom," Laney replied.

"Don't do that—."

"You're canceling on me, aren't you?" Laney asked. Lois shook her head.

"I'm not canceling on you. I'm rescheduling," Lois replied, "If you can reschedule for any time next week—."

"Why?" Laney asked coldly. Lois took a deep breath. "Don't do that. Don't act like I have no right to be angry about this—."

"I'm not. Laney, I didn't realize that our thing was the same day as Sammy's field trip—."

"So this is about Jon? Why can't Dad chaperone?" Laney asked.

"Because he's covering a story out of town on Friday. Just bear with me. If you reschedule for next week, I'll be there," Lois replied. She softened. "Lane, how's Jason?" Lois sat down on the couch next to Clark.

"Asking the wrong questions, Mom... And the answer to your actual question is no. No, I didn't tell him about the actual reason we weren't allowed to hang out anymore," Laney replied. Clark relaxed his shoulders. "And to your leading question, he's Jason. The same Jason that I've always known."

"I'm glad you kept it to yourself, Lane," Clark replied.

"I'm not happy about it, but everyone knows that already," Laney replied, "I just don't get the point of lying to him. It's not benefitting anyone—."

"Lane, please tell me you're not going to start problems on purpose by telling Jason something he doesn't need to know," Lois sighed.

"I won't cause problems on purpose. It's not like I don't care about Jason..." Laney ate his french fries. "But don't you think that it's wrong that his memory of what happened is a complete lie?"

"It's not for us to say," Lois replied. Laney sighed and picked over his food.

"Anyway, how are the boys?" Laney asked.

"Sammy's running for class president, and Chris just joined an afterschool club," Clark answered.

"So, that's why no one's home yet?" Laney asked. He finished his milkshake and tapped the bottom of the cup against the table.

"Would you like to share your feelings about being away from home?" Clark asked.

"Do we have to do the whole feelings thing?" Laney asked. Neither parent answered. "Okay, fine. I felt like I was gonna be alone, but it's nice to know that I still have a friend here." Laney paused to wait for their answer, only to see that they were smiling. "Please don't do that... I'm only telling you guys what you already—."

"We love you, Lane," Clark whispered. Lois's eyes softened.

Laney softened as well, and he let out a breath of air.

"I love you guys too... And Mom? I'm gonna reschedule for next Friday, okay?" Laney asked. Lois nodded.

"We've gotta go, but we'll talk again soon," said Clark.

Laney finished his call and threw away his food before going back to his car. His roommate called him on the phone, and he rolled his eyes before answering. "Hi, buddy," Laney answered. The fire alarm beeped in the background.

"How do I put out a grease fire?" she asked.

"Jesus Christ. Okay, put the cookie pan over it or take some salt and throw it on the fire. I'm on my way home right now," Laney replied as he put his phone on speaker and set it down in the cupholder. "I've got you on speaker..." Laney pinched the bridge of his nose and held back a laugh. She started crying.

"I'm so sorry, Lane, I completely forgot that I left the fire on and—."

"Sylvia. Sylvia, listen, it was an honest mistake. No one's mad at you. I was already on my way home," Laney reassured, "I bet you it's not even that bad." He couldn't make out the next few things that she said, so he chose not to answer until he got to their building.

"The whole apartment is hazy—."

"I'm almost up there. Just relax, okay?" Laney raised his voice while maintaining a gentle tone. He went up the stairs, and he hung up the phone as he let himself in. He immediately started choking from the smoke in the room.

"Sylvie! Gus Gus! I'm home," Laney called, and Sylvia came off the fire escape in tears holding Laney's cat. He took off his sweater and swung it at the smoke alarm.

"Lane, I'm so sorry. I left the stove for five seconds to go to the bathroom—." Laney took his cat. "Come on, let's go back to the fire escape," Laney suggested. They climbed out the window to the fire escape. "Don't worry, everybody does this." He sat down, and she sat close by him.

Sylvia didn't say anything at first. She just sat next to him, wiping the tears from her eyes, and Laney took a deep breath. "Need a hug?" Laney asked. She nodded, and he put his arm over her.

"I thought you would be mad that I scared Gus," she whispered.

"Gus is fine. Thanks for taking him outside," Laney replied as he rubbed Gus's ears. "It sounds like you had a rough day. Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "I just miss my mom," Sylvia whispered, "I know I can call her, but it's not really the same as seeing her in person."

"I understand that... I really do," Laney whispered.

"But you're so good at living on your own," Sylvia replied.

"It took a long time to learn how to live alone," Laney explained, "I was in a boarding school for two years, I lived in a dorm my freshman year in Metropolis, so I've had a lot of experience living away from home... But I know what it feels like to be homesick."

"How long did it take you to stop missing home?" Sylvia asked. Laney shrugged.

"A long time, but it's normal," Laney whispered, "Have you made any friends here yet?" Sylvia mumbled something and made her way back inside. "Huh?" Laney asked. He let Gus back in the house and made his way inside. "Was that a touchy subject?"

"I have a girlfriend here," Sylvia answered out loud. Laney cocked his head.

"Wait, have you not ever said that out loud before?" Laney asked. She nodded. "Oh. Oh! Sylvia, listen, if you ever want to invite your girlfriend over, this is just as much your apartment as it is mine."

"So, you don't have a problem with me—."

"I have no problems with you. You're a great roommate," Laney replied as he threw the charred pot in the trash. "Even if you almost burned our apartment to the ground today." Sylvia laughed. "I'll order in."

#fic #hair trigger fic #batfam #superfam #Jason Todd #Jonathan Lane Kent #Bruce Wayne #Clark Kent #Lois Lane #Cassandra Cain #Tim Drake #Conner Kent #Natalia Knight #Jonathan Samuel Kent #Cassie Sandsmark #Chris Kent #Bart Allen #Original Character(s) #University AU #No Powers AU #Sharing A Bed #Romance #Angst

[river-bottom-nightmare]

when jason todd was thirteen years old, bruce bought him a collection of dusty old novels from a dingy little bookstore as a christmas present. their spines were wrinkled and their pages were musty and jason read each one fifteen times over in joy. his favourite was a no-name florist’s personal journal, in which each flower they carefully cultivated was laid out in the page with watercolour, information along with the meaning of the plant was scribbled out in ink. it still rests on the top shelf of the bookcase in jason’s old room, gathering dust and losing memories. 

vines grow all along the abandoned end of wayne manor gardens, vines that alfred doesn’t touch because he knows bruce finds the purple hyacinths beautiful. the frustrating part of these flowers, however, are that they refuse to bloom until late, when all the other flowers have blossomed and withered and died. only then do they slowly peek out of their buds, as bruce runs a gentle finger over them. please forgive me, are the words that line their petals, and bruce wonders who exactly he’s begging for forgiveness. damian, cass, for breaking all his promises for a new life? tim, for turning a smart little boy into a battle-hardened weapon? jason, for never loving him as much as he asked for? dick, for placing a responsibility on his shoulders simply because bruce can’t bear to bear it alone? or alfred, for breaking the man’s heart with every move he makes?

roy let dick borrow his pickup truck and kori was the one who lugged everything up the stairs to dick’s apartment, but dick was the one who transferred the dropping zinnias from their cracked plastic case into painted and patterned pots. they’re common, easy to grow, so dick knows he won’t mess up too badly, but their multicolored hue fills dick with a lightness that he cherishes. never forget the absent, they remind him constantly, and he never does. the orange pot on his kitchen counter makes him think of all the times wally had laughed while stuffing his face, the magenta cluster on his windowsill brings back memories of donna’s hugs. the pink pot on his coffee table is the same colour as lian’s favourite hairband, and he wishes the white flowers in a jar near his bed good morning and good night every day, twice, one for his mother and one for his father. sometimes a butterfly will come into his open window and land on the bright petals; that always makes dick smile.

jason wakes up screaming from nightmares more often than not, but he realizes too late that the screams are only ringing inside his head. the spines of asphodel flowers rake up and down his throat, scraping him raw until he drowns in his own blood. taking his rage out on anyone who crosses his path doesn’t stop them, breaking down sobbing and drunk with artemis and bizarro doesn’t stop them, staying up all night with coffee doesn’t stop them. so he visits his grave instead, and he wonders why the hell bruce keeps coming back. those ugly white flowers are always there, gently placed in front of a lovingly carved tombstone. my regrets follow you to the grave, they taunt him, and jason wonders what exactly bruce regrets: letting him die or finding out that he couldn’t love jason anymore when he came back?

janet drake’s favourite flowers were hollyhocks, and tim didn’t have the slightest idea why. he only knew this because during a birthday festival, hollyhock petals were flowered over the cake. still, he knew his mother loved them, so maybe if he became them, she would love him too. they’re hardy and they require very little care to bloom, so tim taught himself everything he needed to know and, bit by bit, clawed up a rock wall until he was entirely independent, and didn’t need his parents anymore. they came in every colour of the rainbow, so tim learned how to slip on masks as easy as a wish. the perfect partner batman could mold him into, the lightbulb of a disorganized team, a little brother for dick to love. most diseases cause minor cosmetic damage and can be disregarded, so tim took the beatings from criminals and let the scars decorate his skin without a single complaint. only years later did tim discover that hollyhocks mean ambition, and by then, tim’s ambition had far outgrown janet’s. 

how difficult is it to become a symbol of hope after years of training to be a symbol of darkness? not that difficult, cass discovers, because darkness doesn’t necessarily mean death. chrysanthemums need light to bloom, but they’re at their most beautiful in the dark. bruce may need his family’s light to stay afloat, but he’s at his most powerful in the dark. so cass steps into the dark with him, knowing that batman is learning to turn his darkness into a protective cape instead of a smothering cloak. cass wields out death darkness fear without hesitation to criminals, as ominous as chrysanthemums at a funeral. but then she flips to friendship loyalty joy with her family, holding her hands out and waiting for someone to clasp on. she can be both, she discovers. she’s allowed to be both. 

everything had a purpose. everything can be used. that’s what mother told him while applying her lipstick in the mirror, with damian sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping a knife in his hands in coordination exercises. the lipstick was the same dark pink shade as the oleanders she ordered planted in nanda parbat, despite them not being native to the area. a single leaf could kill a man, she told him, so wield them wisely. she taught him to wield many other things too, everything from a sword to a poison to his own name. a glorious destiny, the plants whispered to him, and damian held those words up with pride until that destiny had been ripped out from underneath him, his mother abandoned him, and he was left alone in a place where he had no purpose. it was richard grayson who had smiled, tiredly but surely, and had picked him up and placed him back on his feet. “didn’t you know,” he said, “that oleanders were the first flowers to bloom after hiroshima? oleanders mean survival.”

okay so in case you missed it (because i spent wayyyy too long looking these up) here is each person, what flower i assigned them, and the flower’s meaning

bruce: purple hyacinth - please forgive me dick: zinnia - never forget the absent jason: asphodel - my regrets follow you to the grave tim: hollyhock - ambition cass: chrysanthemums - death, darkness, fear, friendship, loyalty, joy (this flower has a lot going on) damian: oleander - a glorious destiny, survival

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @catxsnow @pricetagofficial @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

#scribbles from the swamp #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #cassandra cain #black bat #batgirl #damian wayne #robin #batfam #dc #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne fic #batman headcanon #batman fic #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson fic #nightwing headcanon #nightwing fic #jason todd headcanon #jason todd fic #red hood headcanon #red hood fic #tim drake headcanon #tim drake fic

[phis-corner]

I recently read your platonic brucinette post, it was amazing, i couldn't stop laughing. What if she invites herself over to the Manor or something and the boys have no idea who she is (cause I feel like he wouldn't mention her cause she would probably ruin his reputation even more since his kids would probably spread the stories to their own friends) but I feel like maybe Tim already know her since he was in Paris looking for Bruce (when he got "killed" by Darkseid), he would probably see her as a mom or fun aunt that he could vent to

Ask and you shall recieve! again, any grammar mistakes are because I did not bother proofreading. whoops.

Masterlist ◈ Original

Dick Grayson had seen a lot of unexpected things throughout his lifetime, but he really did not expect to come downstairs for a nice bowl of cereal for breakfast and find a woman who looked eerily like the late Martha Wayne sitting at the table and eating his Bat Puffs.

Wait.

“Those are my Bat Puffs!” Dick shrieks, because he has priorities. That’s the last of his cereal, okay? And it’s going to be two days before Alfred goes on his next grocery run and he’s really bad at shopping for food on his own. Sue him.

Not-Or-Maybe-Possibly-If-You-Believe-Conspiracy-Theories-Martha-Wayne simply laughs, and easily dances out of the way of his grab for the bowl, moving out of his reach with an elegance and grace that can only mean she spends part of her day dressed in a different costume. Whether or not she was a good guy still remained to be seen, considering she had somehow broken into the Manor without setting a single alarm off and was currently eating the last of his Bat Puffs. 

A truly despicable act, indeed.

“Grayson?” Damian chooses that exact moment to come down the stairs. “I heard you scream. What’s-” He snarls the moment he catches sight of Not-Martha-Wayne, pulling out a knife from somewhere in the folds of his pajamas and hurling it at her head with impressive speed and accuracy.

Not-Martha-Wayne simply ducks, letting the knife thud into the wall behind her, making Dick wince. Alfred was not going to be happy.

“Identify yourself, woman!” Damian screeches, pulling out another knife. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?”

Not-Martha-Wayne tilts her head, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Really? I’m not even allowed to eat cereal in my own home now?”

Dick is slowly growing more and more convinced that Not-Martha-Wayne is actually Zombie-Martha-Wayne.

Damian freezes, eyeing her suspiciously. “Your home?”

“Wh’s goin’ on?” Tim slurs, stumbling down the stairs. “Why ‘re you all screamin’?”

Maybe-Zombie-Martha-Wayne brightens when she sees Tim. “Timber! How’s it going?”

Tim rubs his eyes, once, twice, and then his face splits into a grin when he finally registers Maybe-Zombie-Martha-Wayne’s presence. “Marinette! It’s so good to see you!”

And okay, what.

Tim hurries down the stairs (meaning only marginally faster than before, he hasn’t had his morning coffee yet,) and ignores the coffee machine in favor of hugging Possibly-Undead-Martha-Wayne, who laughs and puts down the bowl of Bat Puffs in favor of hugging him back. Dick takes the opportunity to snatch the bowl away from her, mourning the fact that there’s only a bit of milk left at the bottom of the bowl.

“Good to see you too, Tim,” Not-Martha-Wayne, whose name is apparently Marinette (why does that sound familiar?) ruffles Tim’s hair. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Tim,” Dick says, at the same time Damian demands “Drake.”

“How do you know this woman?” They say at the same time (Dick stubbornly ignores that Damian replaced ‘woman’ with ‘harlot’).

“You mean you don’t?” Tim asks, frowning. “She’s-”

“Marinette,” Bruce cuts Tim off, having appeared at the foot of the stairs in his usual dramatic fashion. 

Not-Martha-Wayne-But-Still-Really-Looks-Like-Her-Whose-Name-Is-Apparently-Marinette beams and waves cheerfully at Bruce, who looks done with life. “Hey, little brother! I see you haven’t gotten tired of dressing up as a giant bat to beat people up yet!”

Well, that was a lot to unpack. Dick decided he’d start with the easiest thing.

“Little brother?” He looks from Marinette to Bruce, Bruce to Marinette, noting the resemblance in both of them to Thomas and Martha Wayne. “You mean- she’s your older sister?” Dick shrieks, turning to Bruce. “Why have we never heard about her?”

“Really, Bruce?” Marinette gasps, mockingly placing a hand over her heart. “I’m devastated. How could you, after everything we’ve been through, not even tell your hundred thousand children that I even exist?”

Bruce doesn’t reply, instead letting out one long sigh through his nose. Huh. Sixteen whole seconds. Impressive.

“Just kidding,” Marinette grins once Bruce has finally stopped sighing. “He’s never told you because I travel the world a lot, my job is super dangerous, and because I’d expose all his deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Like his greatest fears?” Damian asks. Cass, who had silently entered the kitchen at some point or another, stood behind him, ready just in case he pulled out another knife.

Marinette tilts her head. “What? No!” Like how he wiped off one of the eyebrows on Sylvia McCartney’s face when he was four-”

She doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Bruce has made a mad dash across the kitchen, evidently aiming to get her to stay quiet. Marinette dances out of his hold with a giggle and continues speaking even as Bruce chases her all around the kitchen.

“-anyway, he declared that ‘she had something on her face’, wiped off one of her drawn-on eyebrows-” She ducks underneath a plate, which Cass deftly catches before it hits the wall. “-and then went ‘There. I got it for you!’”

A shoe flies at her head. Marinette bats it away with one hand. 

Dick tries valiantly to stifle his snickers, but judging by the evil eye Bruce is giving him, it’s not quite working.

“And there was that time we were at that four-star restaurant in Star City and he ate too much and-” Marinette raises an eyebrow as she catches a toaster in her hands. “Really now, Bruce? A toaster? You know it’ll take more than that to stop me. So he ate too much and got a stomach ache, then started holding his torso and very loudly declaring that he was starting his period.”

Dick doesn’t even bother holding in the laughter this time, and neither do any of his siblings. If only Jason was here to see this, but alas, he was at his own apartment and had no clue that this was going on. Neither did Steph, for that matter, and Duke was already out on patrol since he was somehow a morning person. What a travesty.

“And then there was that time when-” Marinette is cut off by another one of Bruce’s long, very drawn-out sighs. 

“Look, Mari, I think they get the point,” He groans (well - as close to groaning as the Batman ever got), pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can stop now.”

“Oh, you’re just annoyed that you couldn’t stop me,” Marinette retorts with yet another smile, and Dick is once again struck by how similar she looks to the lady in the portrait that hangs over the fireplace in the largest of the Manor’s three living rooms. “I suppose you’re right, however. Despite the abundance of embarrassing stories, they do run out at some point, and I’d prefer not to use them all up in one go, ya know? I have to be the cool aunt. Kate can keep wine aunt, but I’m the cool one now.”

“I think Miss Katherine might disagree with that,” Alfred says mildly. “However, I do believe you can win the children over if you tell them about the time your father brought Master Bruce to his board meeting.”

The look of utter betrayal Bruce gives Alfred makes them crack up all over again.

--o0o--

“Man, I am so glad you got it all on camera,” Duke grins, placing two bowls of popcorn on the coffee table before flopping back down onto the couch. “This is going to be great.”

Tim waves a hand dismissively. “I just hacked the cameras in the Manor. Bruce’s paranoia backfired this time.”

Steph cheers and immediately makes a grab for the popcorn as Cass hits the play button on the remote, and Dick can’t help but crack a smile at his own face when he sees the last of his cereal being eaten.

“Richard, I find it concerning that your first thought was of your cereal and not the intruder,” Damian observes.

Dick ruffles his hair, drawing out a squawk of protest. “Well, what can I say? I really like Bat Puffs.”

The Wayne siblings settle down for a movie night that is definitely going to be filled with lots of laughter.

permanent tags

@wannajointhecrabcult @miraculous-simmer7 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @fantasyislive @chocolateherringtacofan @junarvion @susiej1118 @aestheticnpoetic @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladybug-182 @itsmeevie01 @g-arya @souleateralicestein @nightstarblue @i-is-mysterious @moonystars14 @vixen-uchiha @flapdoodle-noodle @labschaos @nathleigh @jalaluvsu @kaithehero @iamablinkmarvelarmy @luveverything12 @technicallyburninggarden 

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@momothefemur @indecisive-mess-named-me @laurcad123 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @sassakitty @fusser90

#maribat #my writing #asks #platonic brucinette

[maxdark158]

OOOH two chapters in one week??? damn even i’m jealous. of myself. though this also isn’t edited so i might read it tomorrow morning and regret life, soooo

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

The large plant in the street wasn’t promising.

Neither was the very loud scream of pain they heard as they arrived to the scene.

Damian might’ve popped some knuckles when he clenched his fists, he wasn’t fully paying attention. What the ever-loving fucking hell in a fuck was Ivy doing? Harley best not be here too or Damian may strangle both of them for coming near his Angel.

Deep fucking breaths I’m going to fucking lose it-

When they arrived, father signaled a quick “to first two follow” plan and he and Grayson went ahead, leaving Damian and Drake on the roof. Damian itched to jump and move forward. The worry was awful, filling his mind with the most unrealistic of thoughts. He tried to correct them, prove them wrong, but they were overwhelming.

What if I check through her window to make sure she’s in there and oka- he didn’t know which room she had and it would take too long.

What if the scream was hers- It was deeper, male sounding.

What if she was crushed under that plant- She wouldn’t be, right? There wasn’t any evidence of someone being under there-

What if she’s hurt? Afraid? Dying?

He heard yelling. Angry yelling, in a male voice. The constricting worry reminded him of every dangerous male villain in Gotham right now. He went through a list of those currently MIA, those who might’ve yelled. It didn’t make sense, no villain sighting was reported aside from Ivy…

But it was possible.

And the possibility made Damian want to puke.

He had to move he had to do something. He jumped down. It hadn’t been enough time yet but he didn’t care. He heard Drake hiss something in warning about Batman’s orders or something Damian didn’t fucking care about, because he had to see for himself. He had to walk in there and he had to make sure she was okay.

Before he could go in, he saw Ivy walk out through the door. What?! he moved to intercept her before seeing the blood going down her leg- What the fucking fuck happened?! Why was she bleeding?

Ivy raised a brow when she saw him. “I got a pass this time, bird. Might want to help them in there.”

The sick feeling returned. He didn’t want to trust a villain, a criminal… but Ivy wasn’t the most horrible.

He eyed the blood, the worried weeds supplying images of his Angel bleeding in the same way. Ivy was not the worst that could happen… His mind went through that handy list of villains again. Many much worse than Ivy.

Damian turned away from Ivy. Father and Grayson shattered the window the plant hadn’t gone through, he made a motion toward it before Drake grabbed his shoulder.

“Let go of me you-“

“If you’re going to disobey Batman, at least let me go with you,” Drake looked exasperated. “You’re focused on your friend, right? Someone needs to watch your ass then.”

Damian glared before prying Drake’s hand off his shoulder. If he wanted to follow, fine. Damian wouldn’t stop him. He went through the broken window and finally entered the hotel.

The vending machine was unplugged and face down on the ground, glass surrounding it. Ivy’s giant plant was in the middle of the room, steam thicker than the pot it previously inhabited and petals as big as the Batmobile’s tires. Other miscellaneous things were strewn across the room, including cut hair near the elevator.

But what had Damian’s heart pounding was the playing cards. Playing cards that were embedded in the walls and the front desk and the floor. Razor sharp playing cards. A certain villain’s playing cards.

Fucking fucking shit fuck bitch ass fuck-

“Father,” Damian’s voice was surprisingly level as he spoke. His eyes landed on the fucking purple suited clown mother fucker himself. “What is Joker doing here?”

Father however seemed to be answering something Grayson must have said, “It appears she was rescuing…”

Ivy was rescuing.

Ivy was helping.

Damian’s eyes scanned the room right as someone else made themselves known.

Marinette!

The air left his lungs. She looked worse for wear, dark circles under her eyes and blood- fucking hell blood on her person. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and Damian wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Help her.

He opened his mouth to speak, stepping toward her.

She began to sob.

As if Damian somehow needed to panic even more.

“I’m sorry,” the words were quietly choked out between hics and sobs. “I’m a hor- horrible person and-”

“Hey now,” Grayson took a step closer, trying to comfort her. Damian’s feet were stuck to the floor, the words stuck in his mouth, preventing him from doing the same. “I’m sure you’re not-”

She held up her hands, showing the blood on them. Damian inhaled sharply when he saw the bits of glass embedded into her palm – the green haired fuck hurt her.

“I broke his leg,” she took a big gulp of air. Damian bit back the words and he deserved it. “With a rock. And I threw things at him. A chocolate bar, a cookie, a phone, a lamp, a vending machine-”

“A vending machine?” His father glanced at the vending machine on the ground. Damian didn’t bother trying to decipher his expression, Marinette was turning red and gasping between her sobs. She needed to breathe.

“Miss, please calm down,” Grayson began to step toward her. Damian’s feet finally moved, and he began surging toward her as well.

She fell, nearly hitting her head on the way down. Damian caught her before she could though, barely. Fuck, she needed to breathe like yesterday.

“I’m terrible, horrible, I shouldn’t have done this,” the words used the last of her breath and were only a whisper.

Panic made his throat feel stuck and his voice thick. “Angel,” Damian spoke as calmly as he could. “You need to breathe.”

She didn’t breathe.

oooOOOooo

Usually, lack of sleep was associated with the coffee obsessed Drake, but it seemed Damian’s own mind was determined to show him what it was like to live like a lunatic. He wasn’t able to sleep even when he tried, though he didn’t try that much either. He’s pretty sure he spent an hour staring at his weedkiller order – an order that somehow got lost in Kentucky – wishing it to suddenly appear at the front gate. Then again after coming home, most of the night was a blur.

He rubbed his eyes and let his thoughts wander through the memories of last night. Or, early morning technically.

Marinette looked delicate and broken on the stretcher as she was loaded into the ambulance. Damian had to turn his head away. He saw Drake and Todd looking at him, but he didn’t want their fucking pity.

She’d be fine.

She had to be.

After Angel had passed out, she began to breathe again. She immediately got medical attention for her injuries, riding in a different ambulance than Joker, who also got medical attention at Arkham. Damian wanted nothing more than to skin him alive as he left, but he avoided doing it for the time being. Barely.

“There’s some of Joker’s laughing shit over here, B-man.”

“Have Red Robin neutralize it. We’ll have to check the tapes and see if anyone was affected.”

“Besides the guy who’s body we found behind the desk, I don’t think anyone else got hit. But good call. Red Robin, over here!”

Drake got the security camera feed and Damian saw the entirety of what happened in the hotel lobby. His Angel fought bravely and intelligently, though he couldn’t say he was a fan of the bitch who left her behind.

“Why did she go for the elevator? I’d hate being stuck in there with the Joker. And she let her classmate just fight?”

“Maybe she called for help once she got away. And even if she didn’t, we can’t judge a teenager for panicking in this situation, Tim. Damian’s friend is an anomaly.”

“I don’t know… too bad the cameras don’t have audio, I wonder what she’s saying before they realize that Joker is there.”

“Are you able to read her lips?”

“Golly jee I wish I fucking thought of that! Thanks for reminding me to read her lips on this old and grainy camera footage where you can barely tell her eyes from her nose!”

“Jesus Replacement, no need to bite my head off.”

Damian looked into it,and found that no calls were made to the police until the plant fell through the window. The calls then were about Ivy appearing, deduced by people nearby who saw the plant. That good for nothing bitch left my Angel with the Joker-

“No calls were made by anyone within the hotel. All the calls were made by people on the street or living nearby who saw the plant.”

“Hmm… Odd…”

“…I’m sorry but how the fuck did someone sleep through a giant ass plant breaking the main floor windows? How?!”

“Maybe it’s a French secret.”

He shook his head. After they got all the information, father decided to send the French children back early and pay for it himself. Damian, internally, knew why. He painted a target on Angel’s back, if she didn’t have one before.

“You realize he heard you, right?”

“What do you want, Todd?”

“Fucks’ sake demon spawn, listen to me. Joker heard you call her Angel.”

“…”

“I was already aware of that. I’ve made plans to have the class moved back in Paris. If it gets around, She’ll be an ocean away and more difficult to harm.”

“Alright, B. Was just trying to warn Demon Spawn.”

“Maybe next time he won’t fuck up.”

“Tim, no need to be harsh.”

“It’s vigilante 101, Bruce. Damian’s been doing this for years.”

“Perhaps instead of being berated for a mistake he didn’t intend, you should let Master Damian retire to his room to rest.”

Damian grumbled to himself, trying to push the intrusive awful worrisome thoughts out of his head. The ones that said maybe going back to Paris wouldn’t be enough to protect her. The ones that said Joker would want revenge, the ones that-

The ones that he wasn’t fucking listening to right now thank you very fucking much!

Damian sighed to himself. He needed some sleep. After handling the news, getting the class handled, and looking into everything involving Joker’s break in at the hotel he was told to get to bed as the sun began rising. It hadn’t really worked, as now a few hours later he was debating stealing some of Drake’s coffee to make it through the day.

Because he did have one very important task to do today. He needed to check on his Angel, and say goodbye to her. He had her number of course, and they could text as often as possible for the two of them, but he still needed to see her. See her and apologize for how horrible this trip must’ve turned out for her.

I’m bad luck, being near me ruined her trip.

Damian went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, ignoring that train of thought.

Riddler attacked her when I was there. Joker appeared after I dropped her off. I made her unlucky. I got her hurt.

It’d be easier to ignore that train of thought if it weren’t so fucking loud.

Time felt blurry right now. Probably because he was tired. But soon he was dressed in a hoodie and sunglasses, disguised so he didn’t get mobbed by paparazzi while visiting his Angel in the hotel. He was pulling his shoes on when there was a knock at the door.

“What do you want?” The knocking bounced in his head and made it hurt. Maybe he had a migraine, he wasn’t sure.

“Such a nice way to say good morning Demon Spawn,” Todd strolled in like he fucking owned the place and leaned against the wall next to the door. Damian wondered what it’d be like to have Jon’s laser sight so he could glare at Todd and kill him.

“You didn’t have permission to come in.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Tough shit,” Todd rolled his eyes. “…You… alright?”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you asking something like that?”

“Your friend got attacked and is leaving the city because of a target on her back. Which, while I did point out that you called her a petname in front of Joker-“

“It isn’t a petname-“

“-It isn’t your fault.”

The words starkly contrasted Damian’s internal beliefs and he had to blink a few moments to make sure what he heard was real. Because what the fuck? Why would Todd try to convince him his fuck up somehow wasn’t his fucking fault!?

“It’s… not my fault that I stupidly revealed a relationship connection to a civilian in front of one of the worst villains this city has suffered?”

“Okay, that was all you, smartass,” Todd sighed. “but the other shit isn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt her, the fucked up clown did. You didn’t put her in danger, her fucking teacher and class did by abandoning her. You’re at fault for your actions, not other people’s, so if you’re blaming yourself then fucking stop. Freckles’d probably get upset if you were using her to hate yourself.”

“What on this planet makes you think I’m doing that?!” Damian’s voice rose in a snap, hypocritically, because he realized as he spoke the words that he… kind of was doing that.

Fucking feelings and fucking worry and fucking weeds in his head were the reason, of course, but he… was… fuck, he’s tired isn’t he?

“I died, Demon Spawn.” Damian raised a brow at Todd, waiting for the halfwit to continue. “Bruce and I… aren’t on the best of terms, but I did realize he… he did that. Where what Joker did was his fault. I’m not happy the fucker is still alive, but that doesn’t mean Bruce was the one who killed me. No that was all Joker.”

“What does that have to do with anything again?” Damian really just wanted Todd out of his room and not talking about things in the past. He totally understood his point and everything, but it wasn’t anything a gallon sized bottle of weedkiller wouldn’t fix.

“Wow, you must be really tired, damn,” the fucker smirked before his expression changed into something less asshole-ish. “I’m saying that if you’re blaming yourself for what the Joker did to Freckles, stop it. The fucker lost a leg and she’s on her way to the hotel from the hospital now.”

Wait.

Wait what?

“Wait what?!” Damian wasn’t even sure which one he was reacting to – the news that Angel was okay or the news that the Joker was permanently damaged.

Angel’s self defense might’ve permanently helped Gotham?!

Okay maybe he knew what he was reacting to.

Todd turned to leave like a fucking dickhead and Damian could hear the smirk in his voice as he walked away. “Check the news for the Joker thing and ask Alfred to take you to Freckles in like an hour.”

Damian was smart enough to realize that not checking out of spite for Todd would only disadvantage himself.

He still only checked a couple minutes later though. After glaring at his phone willing himself to somehow know without checking.

He needing headache pills.

oooOOOooo

The Unnamed Teenager That Defeated The Riddler Cripples Joker!

Just days after beating The Riddler at his own game, the same teenage girl holds off The Joker until Batman arrives!

“We had to amputate him below the knee,” Arkham doctor says. “There was too much glass in the wound, it cut several muscles, tendons, and arties. The shattered bone didn’t help.”

French Teenager Unavailable for Comment.

[Read More]

oooOOOooo

Damian had snuck through the lobby up to his Angel’s room. Some of her classmates were downstairs, but he hadn’t paid much attention to them, not caring at the moment.

The last memory he had of her was the blood on her hands and tears in her eyes before she fell to the floor. He wanted to change that, wanted to maybe even see if he could get her to smile. Though that felt ambitious…

He just… needed to make sure she was okay.

Damian knocked on Marinette’s hotel room door.

#daminette #maribat #damimari #maridami #marinettexdamian #damian x marinette #Damian Wayne #Marinette #joker #joker mention #he's pretty quiet in this POV #the badassness is in AiG #rip mari's health #in a week alfred be like master wayne #why is there a delivery for weedkiller in your name #damian takes it from his hands #and chugs

[littlemissinvisible101]

From Replacement to the Original pt.1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Relationships: Tim Drake & Selina Kyle, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne

Characters: Tim Drake, Janet Drake, Selina Kyle, Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Good Parent Selina Kyle, Somewhat good parent Janet Drake, Bruce Wayne is Tim Drake's Biological Parent, Selina Kyle is Tim Drake's Biological Parent, Selina Kyle is Catwoman, Past Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Child Neglect, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Was Robin, Protective Selina Kyle, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne had just woken up on his once-a-month mandatory rest day when he saw that the Drake Family Lawyer contacted him about a contingency letter left by his mother. Apparently, word of mouth travelled fast that he had come back from his supposed soul-searching trip around his parent’s favorite dig sites.

Mr. Fletcher had asked him when he was free to come get the letter his mother had left for him. Tim had wanted to get out of Gotham as soon as he could so he set up an appointment for that afternoon.

Tim had whipped together a quick breakfast and taken his antibiotics before he spent the rest of the morning finalizing his 2 weeks’ notice since Bruce had been able get back into Wayne Enterprises for the week. It had just been a little over a month since Tim had brought Bruce home from the Time Stream and while Tim had expected things to change, he had hoped it would be for the better.

Bruce hadn’t even blinked at the sight of Damian wearing the Robin suit. Hell, he had congratulated Dick for the way he had managed to keep Gotham and everything in line. Bruce had even found the time to fix up his relationship with Jason before he talked to Tim.

He didn’t even bother to thank Tim for saving his life and for taking over his family business. Instead, they talked business and acted as if nothing was wrong in front of the WE employees. If it wasn’t in business suits, then it was in the other suits when he called in Red Robin to help with a case. Tim hasn’t stepped foot inside the Manor in months.

If this was Bruce’s way of saying he didn’t need Tim anymore, he got the message loud and clear. After all, he was just the replacement, right? The pretender who forced his way into their lives and refused to go peacefully so he had to be kicked out. Well, here he was, bowing out silently out of their lives.

Tim had planned meticulously for how he would be able to leave without them noticing. In a week, he would submit his 2 weeks’ notice to Lucius Fox before heading on business trip to Japan to finalize a deal. He would be spending the next week there before heading to Austria for another week for another business deal. After, he would simply go wherever he wanted to go.

He preprogrammed a message to be sent to each of the Bats, as a farewell of sorts because even if they didn’t think of him as family, he still loved them as if they were his family. He had even prepared a message for the Titans in case they would ever need him again. They were the only ones Tim trusted enough to keep in contact with. Everyone else, even Alfred would have to be left behind.

Tim viciously pushed these thoughts to the side as he decided to enjoy a quick lunch before he made his way to talk to Mr. Fletcher. As he mindlessly prepped ingredients for a simple salad (because his immunity was shot so he needed all the help he could get), he wondered what would be in the letter.

His mother was not the touchy-feely type. She wouldn’t put something about them loving him. Most likely, it would be business instructions to ensure that Drake Industries would still be the empire that it had been under his mom’s command. Unfortunately for his mom, his dad had been the one to wreck the empire.

Tim had thought about reviving Drake Industries but had ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. The amount of time that went into running a business wasn’t conducive to being a teenage vigilante and Tim wanted to be free to pursue the things he wanted in life. He had more than enough money to live off on and he had invested his money wisely so it had been turning a profit since he had left Gotham the first time.

Even if he continued his vigilantism, he had more than enough money to support himself. He didn’t need their help anymore, just like they don’t need him anymore. As he started cooking his breakfast, he marveled at how he had gotten to this point of independence from the Bats.

Ever since he came back with Bruce in tow, the rest of the Bats didn’t even bother to contact him unless it was for patrol or for a case. Oracle only kept in contact for business. Dick basically ignored their issues and tried to pretend they didn’t exist. Damian liked to act as if he didn’t exist. Jason was, oddly enough, the only one he could stand even if they did only work together for cases. Cass was still in Hong Kong.

If he was being honest with himself, Tim desperately missed being home at the Manor but after everything happened, it was clear that the Manor was no longer his home. Home used to be with the Bats and occasionally, with the Titans. Now, Tim would have to find a new home for himself, hopefully away from Gotham and the Bats.

Tim ate his salad mindlessly while he let his mind wander on his active cases. He would need to tie up his loose ends before he left without the bats taking notice. He popped his next dose of antibiotics into his mouth after and finally decided that he’s wasted enough time to start getting ready for the appointment.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Timothy Drake-Wayne was ready and presentable to the public again. Tim debated bringing his motorcycle but the address of the office was only a couple of blocks from his apartment and he could use the walk to clear his head and get some fresh air.

As he left his penthouse, Tim’s mind debated again about what his mother could have possibly written about. His inheritance had already been secured since he was born so it couldn’t be that. The business had already sunken and drowned under the guidance of his father. It didn’t make any sense for Janet Drake to write a contingency letter and yet, here it was.

Tim didn’t know why but every step felt like it was weighed down with lead and his stomach dropped as he got closer and closer. By the time he was at the office, Tim’s mind was buzzing about theories as to what could have been so important for him to know that his mother, famed Iron Dragon of Gotham wrote a letter just in case she died.

Mr. Fletcher must have been eagerly awaiting him by the looks of it since Tim had scarcely knocked on the office doors before it was opened. It’s been a while since Tim had seen Mr. Fletcher given that he had retired before the Drakes passed.

“Timothy, you’re early!”

“Mother taught me that it was better to be early than to waste other’s time. It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Fletcher.”

“That does sound like something Janet would preach. I wished we’d met again under more ideal circumstances but you’ve grown into a fine young man. Your parents would be proud.”

“Thank you. Your email mentioned a letter from Mother?”

“Ah yes! As you know, ever since my son took over my position at the firm, I had relinquished all of my active duties to him but this was more of a request made by your mother to me as a confidant and friend. Jacob, my son had been cleaning out my office a few days ago when he found the envelope. He contacted me immediately about it and I remembered what it was about. I made the trip out here because I had to give it to you before I forgot again. I owe your mother that much.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Fletcher?”

“I think it’s best for you to read it, Timothy. I already know what it contains but I’m here to answer any of your additional questions.”

This suddenly seemed like a much bigger deal than Tim originally thought it would be, especially since Mr. Fletcher had left his retirement in Metropolis to give this to him in person. With bated breath, Tim opened the sealed envelope and began to read.

~~~

Dearest Timothy,

If you are reading this, then there are two possible options. Either I have passed on before your 18th birthday or I was too much of a coward to talk to you about this in person and I gave you this letter instead. As I write this, your father is asleep, holding you after a nightmare from today’s ordeal at the circus. I have tried to sleep but my mind will not be quieted about the possibility of that happening to us before I could tell you the truth so I decided to make this contingency letter just in case. By the time

you’re reading this, you will have grown into an intelligent young man who I know is capable of so much more than Jack and I could have ever dreamed of, partially because you are more than Jack and I could ever produce.

Timothy, you are not our biological son. I had gotten pregnant but the child I had borne was stillborn. Jackson Timothy Drake hadn’t been able to take his first breath before it was taken away. Luckily for me, your father was out of town on business and I rushed to Gotham General against my earlier wishes and they had stuck me in a room with another woman who had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby boy, you.

You were both born on the same day, in the same room, with different fates. Your mother was a young woman from the seedier side of Gotham and your father was out of the picture, or so she said. She was planning to give you up for adoption anyway and so I made the only impulsive decision I have ever made since marrying Jack and I told her to give you to me. I told her I would give you the life of luxury you deserved and that you would never want for anything if she gave you to me. She agreed on one condition: I tell you the truth about your parentage on your 18th birthday so that she could have the opportunity to get to know you too.  

She didn’t even let me pay for her hospital bills because she didn’t want to be indebt to me even though I was forever indebted to her for giving me you. I had John rush over to Gotham General and make a contract for both of us because I could not allow Jack and the rest of Gotham High Society to find out about this. The only ones who knew about you being adopted were me, John, your mother and the medical staff who helped us. Since Gotham General was severely underfunded prior to my intervention, it was easy to get them to change the records to make Timothy Jackson Drake be born and for Jackson Timothy Drake to disappear. I had gotten the staff involved to sign NDAs and to make sure that none of this got out.

As I write this, I have seen you grow into this absolutely marvelous and intelligent child, talented in ways I could have never expected. It is bittersweet for me because as I see you grow, I cannot help but think of what my biological son could have been had he survived. Would he be as smart and as capable as you? Would he be different compared to you? Would I have taken you in had he survived? I have never regretted my decision to adopt you but I could not stand to watch you grow when I know my biological son never will. I know I will most likely grow to be distant from you and I already regret it but I cannot stop myself from seeing my dead son in you.

However, I can already tell you will be stronger than I ever could be. You take to your lessons like a duck to water and you see a magic in the world that I could never see. I want you to know that even if you are not mine biologically, I still love you even if I cannot show it. I love you even if you cannot feel it. I love you but I also love the son that I lost and I cannot help but mourn for him while I watch you grow. Your father does not know so his love is genuine and pure for you.

I want you to know this, Timothy. I took you in on an impulsive decision but I have never regretted it. Sure, I wish with all of my heart and mind that my son had survived but I was able to have you and you more than made up for it. I know that this does not excuse my future actions, my possible neglect of you but I hope you understand why I cannot bear to be close to you. I love you even if I do not show it. I love you even if you cannot see it. I love you and I hope you can forgive me for not telling you sooner.

Love,

Mother

~~~

Of all of the possibilities Tim had considered, this was not one of them. This explained so much but also left so many questions but the only thought passing through his head was the fact that, even at birth, he was a replacement.

“I assume you have questions?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, to be honest. You’ve known the entire time?”

“Yes. I was the one who made the contract for your mother and she swore me to secrecy.”

“So, let me get this straight. I was just a replacement for her son who died?”

“No! Of course not. Timothy, I know it must not have seemed like it but your mother and father truly did love you as if you were their own. Your mother has some leftover problems from her childhood that negatively impacted her ability to show her love even if she does. She would have never bothered to put in the effort otherwise.”

“I’m trying to believe that but my recollection of Mother is not that different from the Iron Dragon of Gotham.”

“That’s because she fought to give you the best education and care possible which she knew was not her own. That’s why she constantly changed your nannies and tutors because as soon as she felt they inadequate for you, she was searching for the next best thing for you. Janet didn’t really care in the normal ways, Timothy. I know it’s hard to see but she really did love you and take care of you in her own way.”

“I just. I never expected this.”

“I knew this day would come but I was honestly hoping your mother would be here to explain her side of the story before she told you who your birth mother was.”

“Do-do you know who my birth mother is?”

“It’s not written in the letter?” Mr. Fletcher seemed genuinely surprised at this.

“No. Mother didn’t include her name, just a vague description of her. Can you tell me who my mother is?”

“I guess by the time Janet wrote it, she had forgotten the name. I think I have the contract hidden here. Let me look for it.”

What followed was the tensest five minutes of Tim’s life. He didn’t even know if his biological mother was still alive but he wanted to find out. After all, his birth mother had wanted to reconnect when he was older. Maybe, she wanted to have him in her life, just like Mo-Janet had apparently wanted him in her life.

Maybe, she would be there with welcoming arms. Maybe, she was one of the many civilian casualties of their nighttime escapades. Maybe, she had gotten lost in the seedier side of Gotham and she had never been able to make it out. There were so many maybes that Tim wanted to figure out what was true and what wasn’t.

“Aha! Here it is. According to this, your birth mother is Selina Kyle.”

Holy shit. His mother was fucking Catwoman.

#tim drake #bruce wayne #selina kyle #tim drake angst #ao3 fanfic

[miss-choco-chips]

YJ College au: Zatara

Zachary Zatara is both a myth and their housemate.

In which Bart has a cryptic-buddy, Tim is stressed because cute boy insists on being annoying, and everyone else just rolls with it.

Tagging @animemangasoul and @marudny-robot cause I know you guys like this au

--.--.--.--

As usual after pulling an all-week-er (he had left the ‘nighters well behind at this point), Tim was up late that saturday. The window had been left open last night, so a soft streak of sunlight wamed his bed, waking him up slowly and peacefully. Yeah, he would have liked a few more hours, but sunbathing in his sheets for a while wasn’t all that bad either. What would make this half-awake-half-dreaming experience would be some chill music.

Muddled mind made, he rolled in his bed, hand patting the mattress for his phone, squinting his eyes open when he hit something different instead.

He found himself to be almost nose to nose with a dark haired, grey eyed boy.

Tim started that fine morning screaming himself hoarse.

-.-.-.-.-

Sitting at the kitchen’s table, getting everything ready for a late sunday breakfast, Kon raised his head when he heard the strong sound of a scream, followed by… yeah, that was a body hitting the ground. It was unmistakable, in this house. 

“Oh, hey guys”, he called to the attention of the rest of his housemates, all in equals states of zombie-ness, with not as good hearing as his. “Zachary is here.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“The fuck, Zach? My bed? Did you HAVE to crash on my bed? Why are you even here?”

Tim, four coffee cups after his pseudo heart attack half an hour ago, was ready to face the day and their intruder.

“Dude I live here as well, you know. Also your bed is literally the softest thing I ever slept on, you rich bastard. Learn to share.”

“I’ll buy you your own fucking mattress if you swear to never crawl on my bed uninvited again.”

The boy’s eyebrows rose, suggestively. “What was that about an invitation?”

Distressed and not feeling awake enough (he was still two cups away from that) to deal with bi thoughts this early in the morning, he turned his most helpless look to Conner.

Because he was the best friend ever, he threw a pillow to Zachary. And because he was a suck up to anyone who brought him food, Bart intercepted the hit and gratefully accepted the candy bag he got in thanks.

“But actually, Zat, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Berlin?” interjected Cassie, her own tea (the heathen) cup warming her hands as she cuddled with Cissie and Greta on the couch, legs in each other’s laps and generally being the cutest shit ever.

Anita, not very keen on that kind of sweet love, had been wrestling with Slobo for control over the remote for the last fifteen minutes. Miguel was keeping count on their hits for them, though it was mostly assured he would rig the whole thing up to whoever had bribed him better before the fight.

Tim just wanted to go back to sleep in his sun-warmed bed.

“C’mon guys, keep up”, moaned Bart, candy bag half empty already, “he was there two weeks ago. He had an exam yesterday so he came back last monday.”

“...come again?”

“I’ve been room-hopping ever since, though none of you seemed to mind. Until I disturbed sleeping beauty over here, at least.”

Miguel’s eyes left the fight to squint suspiciously at them. “We weren’t aware you were doing that. Where did you sleep? How didn’t we notice?”

“I'ma mystery. I also move around a lot when sleeping so I probably ended up under someone’s bed after crashing from studying. Oh, Anita, if you were wondering, your purple bra is under Cissie’s bed.”

Anita slowly let go of the grip she had on Slobo’s neck. Her eyes shone something dangerous. Cissie, the one who was apparently hosting the boy all along, also stood up and frowned.

“How do you even know that bra is mine!!”

“What the fuck were you doing under my bed, you bastard!”

Tim sipped his coffee, bitterly. “At least he was under it, and not sharing it.”

Kon patted his back.

-.-.-.-.-..- 

“I swear, Jay, he thrives on making me lose my shit. He just… comes and goes whenever, leaving no proof he was ever there, or acting like he was always around. Drives me nuts. I’m not sure he even attends classes, and I only know he actually has a right to enter our house because his rent money always appears on the kitchen table a day before its due. He doesn’t even have a room, why does he even pay? To have an excuse to scare the shit out of the rest of us. Except Bart. The little shit lives for our suffering.”

Jason arches an eyebrow, sipping his beer as he carefully examines his brother. Tim looked less tired than the last time they saw each other, and the modifications done by his psychiatrist had done wonders to the shadows in his eyes. But he seemed somehow… frazzled.

“And he was just there when you woke up?”

“His nose was touching mine.”

“I bet your little bi heart couldn't take that, huh? Is he cute? Maybe you invited him to share your bed the night before and just don’t remember. You know how you get after a week of disregarding your general wellbeing.”

“Oh, shush you. I take care of myself. When was the last time you went to your check in with Patricia?”

Jason scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I missed one session, because I have exams too you know? But I’m up to date with Silvio, and we are working on slowly easing me off the medication.” He noticed the way Tim looked at his drink, expression screaming bullshit, and he scowled in response. “Fuck off, it’s alcohol-free. Kori and Artemis would have my head if they caught me mixing my dosage with anything stronger than tea, and I can’t deal with Biz and Roy’s disappointed eyes.” 

Tim thought of the last time he refused to see his therapist, and the look in everyone’s  (specially Kon’s) eyes, and had to agree. Having friends sucked when one wanted to wallow in self destructive conducts.

“Whatever, all I’m saying is, he’s not cute enough for me to forgive his weirdness. You know the people I roll with, so this is saying a lot. And I would remember inviting him to my bed, if anything for the mortification of it. I’m also…”

The ring of the doorbell distracted them both of whatever Tim was gonna say next. Waving his brother off, Jason got up to pay for their pizza.

When he returned to his living room, Tim was no longer alone.

“Who the fuck are you?” He exclaimed, eyes going back to the hallway at his back, then again at the black haired, grey eyed kid sitting next to Tim. “And how did you get in? We are on the sixth floor and I was just at the only door I have.”

Tim raised his eyes at him, and he seemed equal parts resigned and frazzled. ‘Told ya’, he seemed to say.

“Yo, the food’s finally here. I’m starving. The name’s Zachary Zatarra, by the way. Tim’s friend and housemate.”

“Allegedly” mumbled the other under his breath, earning himself a smile and pat on the back. “Don’t question it, Jay. He’ll be gone after a while when none of us are paying attention. Just let it be.”

“But while I’m here”, the other boy continued, grinning devilishly as he looked at Tim and then Jason, “instead of questioning how did I get in, what about I tell you all about your lil bro’s crush? It 's adorable.”

Tim raised an eyebrow “I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“Like I said, adorable. He’s so oblivious, it’s precious.”

Decision made, Jason left the pizzas at the coffee table and went to fetch a soda for their guest. Gossip, especially about his siblings, was the best way to gain his immediate cooperation. And he could always force the answers about Zatara out of Bart; the brat was terrified of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey, who has to cook tonight? Because I’m craving chicken nuggets.”

Cassie raised her eyes from her magazine, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Uhm… Zach, I think?”

Miguel nodded. “Okay, thanks, where can I find him to suggest my dinner idea?”

Cissie, legs on Cassie’s lap, dropped her head over the couch’s armrest. “Ask Tim? Wasn’t he crashing with him this week?”

That same moment, said boy entered the room, shaking his head. “No, he was sharing with Anita and Cassie.”

“No, he wasn’t… Slobo?”

“Not with us either”, denied Miguel, sharing a look with his roommate to confirm just in case.

“Conner?”

“Didn’t Bart say yesterday he was driving him to the airport?”

“Wait, he left the country again?”

“More importantly, can Bart drive?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When Tim came back home from class, Damian was in his living room. Using a laptop. Sitting side by side with Zatarra.

This couldn't be good.

“Hey, Timbo, welcome back.”

“Drake.”

Not uttering a single word, Tim turned around and walked out of there. Sleeping on a park bench seemed like a preferable choice, compared to finding out exactly why the two banes of his life were sitting together. It was healthier, good for his peace of mind.

Something something self care? His therapist would be so proud.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey dude.”

“Zatara. Your presence here disrupts my room’s feng shui. Please remove yourself from the premises.”

“This disaster zone is the farthest thing from armonious. If anything, I’m improving it.”

Tim raised his eyes from the computer screen. He could always kick the other man out, but that would require leaving the nest he made out of blankets and snacks on his bed. Perhaps a more civilized option would be better. Besides, as boundary-less as the dude was, he didn’t step into the room, just remaining on the doorstep, so whatever he was here for, he most likely needed Tim’s willful compliance.

“If I listen to what you have to say, will you leave?”

Zatara smiled angelically, like butter wouldn’t melt on his mouth, but the look behind his eyes was nothing short of devious. “That’s actually what I came to speak with you about. I have a show…”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“A magic show. Dude, you do know I’m a magician, right?”

Tim didn’t, in fact, know that, besides baseless suppositions about his disappearing-and-appearing abilities. But he had an all knowing facade to maintain, so he grunted in acknowledgement.

“Right, so, I have a show scheduled for tomorrow, but I took Bart out to dinner yesterday so I’m all dried up, and I need to buy a plane ticket asap.”

“Are you asking me for a loan?” he inquired, incredulous. As a general rule, all their housemates refrained from that. Something about not wanting to take advantage of their billionaire friend…

“No, no. I’m offering you a…. service.”

“Look, Zach, no offense? But you ain’t cute enough for me to stoop that low and pay for the… pleasure of your company. I can just give you the money and you pay me back whenever, dude.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! You wish I was offering something  of the sort” he laughed, arms crossed and side leaning against the doorframe, chest and arm muscles perfectly visible. Tim kept his eyes carefully above neck-level. No need to give any weakness away.

“Then?”

“I know you love me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make you miserable, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“Are you familiar with the ‘Buy my silence, $8.000 a month’ meme? Then get ready for a ‘pay for my absence’, my good bitch. I thought maybe you’d like...”

“Sold. I buy it. Take my credit card and go, be free, roam the world. Just get out of my room and fucking text once in a while so I know you’re alive.”

#My writing #college au #Young justice #Tim drake #conner kent #zachary zatara #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #slobo #miguel #anita fite #Cissie King-Jones #Greta Hayes #jason todd #Jason is a TA at college #Tim despairs #Zachary loves fucking with him #it's more than a pastime at this point #more of a career #my writting #mental health discussed #IN THIS HOUSE WE GIVE CHARACTERS THE THERAPY THEY NEED #housemates au

[chilling-in-the-dark]

The Batboys Growing Up as Yanderes Part 4: Tim Drake

This is a yandere story; it mentions elements of obsession, possessiveness, death, murder, stalking, and kidnapping. If any of this is triggering for you, I understand, and you don’t have to read it.

As always, feedback is welcomed.

The first time Tim saw you he was nine, he was watching for Batman and Robin, but instead, he’d found you, a thief slipping in and out of trouble always performing daring but narrow escapes. It didn’t take him long to figure out who you were.

You were a child of one of Gotham’s elite, a runaway who’d been reported missing over a year ago. Officially you nobody knew why you’d left home, but unofficially it was said that you left because your father had been an abusive drunk. Tim really didn’t like to think about it or the circumstances that lead to you leading your current life.

By the time Tim had become robin, he’d had entire photo albums dictated to you, some of the photos were of you living your daily life as a street rat, but most were of you stealing things and evading the police.

Tim watched you silently for years; that is until Jason Todd died, and Batman went on a rampage. After he became robin Tim had nearly unlimited access to Bruce Wayne’s money.

You were fourteen the first time you’d come back to the den you’d made in the attic of an abandoned church to find an envelope of cash placed neatly on top of your sleeping bag. From your Admirer was written on the front in neat swirling cursive.

You shouldn’t have taken the money, even back then you knew this, money came with strings attached, but you needed it so very badly. It was a lot of money, like a lot of money, enough that you wouldn’t have to worry about starving for the next six months at least. Against your better judgment, you ended up keeping the money, but moved to a different location, hoping that your so-called Admirer wouldn’t be able to find you.

You found the next envelope six months later, it contained not only more money, but there was also a note written in the same handwriting, both the first and second envelopes had on the front.

I thought you looked lovely last night, you always do when you’re dodging trouble, but really if you needed more money you should have let me know, after-all I want nothing more than to take care of you angel.

Love,

Your Admirer

Your blood froze in your veins; you didn’t know how but they had, they’d found you again. This went on for several more years, your Admirer leaving money and you finding a new hiding place. You’d come to except this as your new routine, your Admirer never did anything that made you feel unsafe, at least until you turned seventeen, and something happened that made you run for your life.

You’d come home to find the standard biannual envelope of cash on your bed, but something was different this time. Inside the envelope, there were two photos enclosed with the money. The first was of you and your boyfriend in the middle of making out. There was a message written on the back in large angry scrawl was Did you think I wouldn’t find out. The next was of your boyfriends’ dead body, he’d been hung upside down so all of the blood could drain out of him. The killer had written you are mine in blood on the wall behind your boyfriend.

It took everything in you to keep from puking; once you’d pushed down the nausea and grief, you started to run to the nearest bus station. This time you were going to take the money and leave Gotham behind you; you’d heard Metropolis was beautiful this time of year. Little did you know you’d chosen the wrong city to run to.

Bruce and Mrs. Wayne were trying to figure out why Tim seemed even busier they unusual, that is, until they found the stash of photos Tim had taken of you. Some of them were of you evading the police, but most were of you living your daily life.

Mrs. Wayne saw a few that made her ask Bruce to give Tim the talk. She didn’t trust Jack Drake to have done it himself, and besides that, Tim’s talk would need to be a little different from other boys his age. He was a very special boy after all, he’d need a conversation that included his tendencies as well.

Bruce sat Tim down and got the whole story, how much he loved you, how long he’d watched you, the money he’d left, and you taking off on a bus to Metropolis, his plan to get you back, but he needed to get someplace to keep you ready first. Tim knew being so obsessed with someone wasn’t normal, but he’d done it anyway, watching you had made him feel less lonely.

Bruce just smiled at the boy and explained to him that what he was doing was all perfectly alright. If that was all that was wrong, it would be an easy fix. The manor already had everything they’d need to keep you safe and happy until you excepted Tim’s love.

In the meantime, Bruce could have a talk with the boy about not getting caught or dragging his vigilante identity into it. Ideally, the boy would have come out about it sooner; after all, he was nearly eighteen and ready to strike out on his own. Bruce worried whether he’d have time to teach Tim everything he needed to know.

All Clark needed was a photo of the girl, and she’d be found within the hour, it’s not Like Clark didn’t have his own wife tucked away on his family farm back in Smallville after all Bruce had helped catch her when she’d tried to run away last year. She’d run to the Justice League looking for help, not realizing most of them had someone they loved more than life, and they’d all give their right arm to keep them.

You hadn’t thought anything of it when superman flew overhead, after all, Metropolis was his city to look after, you’d seen the bat’s on patrol often enough in Gotham. Heck Robin had once saved you from a mugger.

Nor were you worried when a man who introduced himself as Clark came up and asked for directions either; why would you be, you weren’t in Gotham anymore, this city was so much safer. At least that’s what you thought, but you realized you should have been more cautious when your head started to spin because as soon as you turned around to point in the direction the man needed to head, he’d stabbed you with a needle.

In the half-second it took you to lose consciousness, you wondered if this was the mysterious Admirer who’d killed the love of your life, but you’d find out soon enough that it wasn’t him, no for better or worse the Admirer was Tim Drake.

You woke sometime later in an unfamiliar room with a killer headache, the first thing that should have tipped you off to the fact that this wasn’t your room was that the bed beneath you was soft, and so was the blanket that lay over top of you. At first, you thought you were alone, that is until you finally managed to pry open your eyes.

A boy about your age sat in a chair beside the bed, you knew who he was, anyone with half a brain would recognize Tim Drake. Having noticed your awakening, he leaned over the bed to gently run his thumb over your jaw. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said affectionately. He had the gall to look surprised when you slapped his had away and made a break for the set of doors nearest you. Which turned out to be a large walk-in closet.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Tim asked as he watched you fly over to the next set of double doors. His voice sickeningly sweet, he knew that what you were doing was a normal response to your situation. Tim wasn’t delusional enough to think that you’d love him right away, but he wasn’t like Dick. Tim wasn’t going to force your love because he knew given enough time, you’d come to care for him on your own.

You’d given up trying to open the obviously locked doors only to start pounding on them with your fist, screaming for help that would never come. Tim was torn between waiting for you to wear yourself out or stop you from hurting yourself, at least you hadn’t tried to attack him yet. Bruce had told stories about when Mrs. Wayne had spent time in this same room, he couldn’t even bring her breakfast without her trying to attack.

That gave Tim hope because they were one of the most loving couples he knew, he just needed patience, and you’d love him as much as he loved you. Tim had been patient for eight years, what was a few more in comparison to that. He kept the smile on his face as he walked up behind you and held your arms to your chest before you could do any permanent harm to yourself.

Tags:

@yanderepeterparker​

@idkmanicantenglish​

@prettyafghan

Grow up as only

@neon-phosphorecsent​

@foggyturtleknightangel

#Yandere DC #yandere dc comics #Yandere Tim Drake #Yandere Batboys #CITD writes #part 4 #yandere tim #Yandere batman #Yandere Red Robin #Dark DC #Dark tim drake #yandere x reader #x reader #reader insert

[peppersonironi]

Code Orange (Batfam/Young Justice Crossover)

{Read on Ao3)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (For language - Jason)

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)

Relationships: Garfield Logan & M'gann M'orzz, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, The Team (Young Justice) & Jason Todd

Characters: Jason Todd, M'gann M'orzz, Garfield Logan, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Members of the Team (Young Justice), Stephanie Brown

Additional Tags: Humor, Crossover, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd Being a Little Shit, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Meet the Batfamily (DCU), Post-Season/Series 02, Bruce Wayne Has Too Many Kids, Banter, Mild Language

Summary: Garfield was cut off by M'gann grabbing his wrist and flying out of the room as fast as she could. “Code Orange. Code Orange,” M'gann sent out to everyone on the Watchtower. “There is an intruder on the Watchtower! An ‘A’ level Villain. Armed. Repeat, there is an armed villain on the Watchtower.”

AKA: Red Hood decides he wants to see the Team, breaks in, and causes havoc. The bats are strangely friendly with someone who was supposed to be their villain.

A/N: Yo, I've had this sitting in my docs since … March? Well, i decided to put it out, seeing as I'm FINALLY seeing Season Three! Although this fic doesn't include it. Think of this as post-season two, and just ignoring season three. Full batfam are just never introduced to the Team.

WORK-

It was a slow weekend on the Watchtower, with no missions, catastrophes, or alien invasions. So most of the Team and League were either at home, or chilling in the space station.

The latter was exactly what Garfield and M'gann were doing. They had been on the Watchtower for the entirety of the morning, playing various types of board games. Every so often someone would pop in on them, but for the most part they were enjoying some sibling bonding time.

“You know what we need?” Garfield asked in the middle of Candy Land.

“No, I thought we were doing just fine the way we were,” M'gann replied, confused.

Garfield scoffed. “Food, obviously! I'm starving! Let's head to the cafeteria and see if Bart left any ice cream.”

*****

They didn't find any ice cream. Though, what was there was alarming.

M'gann and Garfield had strode into the cafeteria finding it almost empty. The single occupant was a man in cargo pants, a leather jacket, and a red helmet. He also wore a gray armored shirt, which had some sort of red symbol. The symbol was obscured, however, by the ginormous gun he was cleaning.

M'gann recognized him immediately as the Red Hood, a top-tier crime lord from Gotham.

“Why Hello, Miss Martian. Beast Boy.” Red Hood didn’t even look up.

“Hey sis, did someone new join the team or -”

Garfield was cut off by M'gann grabbing his wrist and flying out of the room as fast as she could. “Code Orange. Code Orange,” M'gann sent out to everyone on the Watchtower. “There is an intruder on the Watchtower! An ‘A’ level Villain. Armed. Repeat, there is an armed villain on the Watchtower.”

“That was a villain?!” Garfield asked in a surprised voice as he raced along with M’gann.

“Yes, Garfield. Red Hood. I have no idea how he got here though. We need to gather everyone. Make sure they're ready for a fight. Especially Nightwing and Robin, he's a Gotham villain, so they should know what to do.”

Garfield nodded, changed into a hawk, and flew off.

Soon almost everyone was gathered outside the cafeteria's doors. Garfield had yet to bring Nightwing, but Robin was present, and at the front of the group. The only adult leaguer present was Captain Marvel, who had been on monitor duty at the time. The major leaguers - including the big three - were on some sort of low threat level assignment.

“M'gann, report,” Aqualad spoke when he made his way to the front of the group where M'gann stood, blocking Conner from jumping the gun and attacking without a plan.

“Garfield and I were on our way to get some food, when we walked in on The Red Hood cleaning a large gun threateningly. I pulled Gar out as fast as possible and alerted everyone.”

Robin groaned loudly. “Hood? Of all the days to infiltrate the Watchtower, he chose today?”

Aqualad frowned. “You do not seem that alarmed. Is he not as dangerous as we have been told?”

Robin snorted. “Oh, he’s dangerous alright. Tried to kill me multiple times, almost succeeded too. But right now I’m just annoyed.”

Superboy grunted. “That doesn’t matter right now! There is a villain in our lunch room! We need to do something!”

Robin shrugged. “Do what you want. B is gonna kill me either way.”

No one understood what Robin meant, so they decided to follow Kon’s advice. Aqualad took charge.

“We enter on three. Blue Beetle, Rocket, Kid Flash, and Wondergirl go right. Superboy, Lagoon Boy, Miss Martian, and Captain Marvel go left. Zatanna and Robin, follow me. Try to encircle him. Get him talking, and see if we can figure out what he wants. M’gann, link us up.”

Robin grumbled, but nodded along with everyone else. M’gann activated the mind link. Once everyone had given the affirmative, Aqualad began the count.

“One. Two. Three. Go!”

Everyone burst through the doors and assumed their positions. The Red Hood was still sitting where M’gann had said. He was still cleaning his gun, though he paused when the Team entered.

“Took you long enough. I was getting bored.”

Robin glared at Red Hood. “What are you doing here, Hood?”

The intruder seemed to smile under his helmet. “Why’re you so grumpy today, babybird? I was getting bored in Gotham. Figured I’d stop by and say hello to the Team.” Hood turned to look at the rest of the Team and waved. “Hey Team. Captain Marvel. How’re you doing?”

No one replied. Red Hood sighed and shook his head. “No one cares about me.”

“Dude, there is a full attack force ready to beat the crap out of you,” Blue Beetle said. “I’m pretty sure there are people who care that you’re here.”

Red Hood chuckled. “You couldn’t beat me if you tried. Tell ‘em, Replacement.”

Robin smirked. “Not after what I saw last week. You were taken down by two low level thugs.”

Red Hood groaned. “Dude, I was drunk.”

No one had the chance to question this as it was at that exact moment that Beast Boy burst into the room followed closely by Nightwing. He had his escrima sticks out, and looked ferocious.

“Hey ‘wing! Nice of you to join us.” Red Hood sounded positively gleeful.

Nightwing, instead of attacking, groaned and put his weapons away. “This is what you called me for? It's just Hood.”

Aqualad frowned. “Is not the Red Hood a security level A enemy? Shouldn’t you be worried?”

Red Hood shook his head. “Level A? I’m flattered! Maybe you and B do care!”

Nightwing sighed, walked over to Hood, and collapsed on the sofa beside him. The Team was shocked to say the least.

“ ‘Course we care, Hood.” Nightwing said, causing many gasps.

“Nightwing,” Aqualad said, “What are you talking about? Is not this man one of your Rogues? Robin said that he tried to kill him multiple times!”

Nightwing just shrugged. “So? He’s tried to kill me too.”

Red Hood tilted his head as he looked at Robin. “You still go by Robin, here? Boy, Demon-spawn is going to kill you!”

Robin crossed his arms and glared. “It was easier. Do you know how long it takes to change your Zeta Settings?”

Red Hood nodded sagely. “So you were too lazy.”

Robin spluttered, but didn’t deny the accusations.

“Are we forgetting,” Conner said, “That there is a villain in the Watchtower? How did he get in?!”

“Hey Red,” Nightwing asked, grinning, “How’d you get up here, anyway?”

Red Hood seemed to smirk under his helmet. “Blackmail is a glorious thing.”

There was an uproar in the mind link. Accusations flew. Who had Red Hood blackmailed? What did he know about them that could possibly warrant an unauthorized visit to the Watchtower? What was almost as scary was how nonchalant Nightwing seemed. Robin also didn’t seem that worried. In fact he looked … sheepish?

Nightwing laughed. “Whatever he has on you, Robin, must be good!”

“Robin!” M’gann exclaimed. He was the last person anyone expected to be Blackmailed. The bats were so secretive, no one really knew anything about them. This situation with Red Hood being a prime example.

“Hermano,” Blue Beetle said, clearly distressed, “How could you do this?”

Robin just shrugged. “He knew something bad, guys. It couldn’t get out.”

Nightwing looked positively gleeful, the exact opposite of what everyone else was feeling. “Come on, Hood. What did he do?”

Red Hood was shaking with laughter. “He brewed his coffee with a mix of Red Bull and Monster, then topped it off with four Five Hour Energy’s, and three double shots of espresso. When he was on strict orders to sleep.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake!” Nightwing exclaimed, sitting up. He seemed more exasperated than angry. “We’ve talked about this! You are going to get yourself killed if you keep going on like this!”

Robin did not look the least bit apologetic. “Hood! You said you wouldn’t tell!”

Red Hood shrugged. “I said I wouldn’t tell Agent A or Bats. You didn’t say anything about Nightwing or the Team.”

Robin collapsed on the nearest chair. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Nightwing nodded. “You are so grounded after this. I’m telling Agent A, and we’re changing all your coffee to decaf!”

Robin groaned. The rest of the Team was confused. For one thing, that wasn’t necessarily that bad of a thing to hide? Sure it was disgusting, but it's not like Robin killed anyone. For another, who did that to their coffee?! But the most worrisome was how did Red Hood know about that? He must have been close to the bird. And how did he know Agent A? Not even the OG Team members had met the mysterious Agent A, who coordinated and cared for the Bats.

“That still doesn’t answer why there is a villain in our cafeteria!” Rocket exclaimed. There were several agreeing nods.

Red Hood sighed. “I told you, I’m here to say hi!” He turned to Robin, “I haven’t seen you in ages.” Though he spoke toward Robin, the Team couldn’t help but feel like he was talking to everyone in the room.

Just then, Kid Flash flew into the room. The lightning trailing from his wake crackled quietly as he stopped next to Aqualad.

“I heard that we had an infiltration and - woah! It's the Red Hood! Why didn’t you tell me it was him! Awesome!” There was a flash, and Kid Flash was standing over Red Hood with a notebook and pen in hand. “Can I have your autograph?”

Nightwing looked like he was trying not to laugh, Robin looked slightly peeved, and everyone else was just confused.

Red Hood’s face wasn’t visible, but his body language clearly showed how pleased he was. “Now this is how you should be treating me!” Hood spoke and he signed the page that Kid Flash helpfully pointed out. “How does ‘Red Hood, to the only decent speedster I’ve ever met’ sound?”

Kid Flash was grinning. “Perfect! Thanks so much! All the info surrounding you was pretty vague in the timelines, so I wasn’t sure if you were even back yet! Or working with the bats again. But boy am I glad you are! You’ve always been my favorite! Do you know how cool you are, dude?!”

Red Hood tilted his head. “Of course I do, kid. Glad someone else sees it though.” He seemed to glare at Nightwing as he said the last part, who only shook his head.

Kid Flash got his notebook back and positively bounced over to Blue Beetle. “Dude did you see this? He actually signed it!”

Blue Beetle frowned. “Why did you want his autograph in the first place?”

Red Hood spluttered, clearly annoyed. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Kid Flash said, “Why wouldn’t I want the autograph of clearly the best Outlaw?” He paused to think. “Are you with the Outlaws yet?”

Red Hood shrugged. “I haven’t seen either of them in a few months, but we are meeting next week for an … outing.”

Nightwing snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “mercenaries and drugs. What could go wrong.”

Red Hood glared at Nightwing. “Like nothing you ever do goes wrong.”

Nightwing snorted. “Yeah, but I never leave a trail of bodies.”

“Okay, one, the bodies were on purpose,” Hood said, “And two, I stopped! No more killing people for widdle ol’ me.”

“Mostly.” Robin said.

“Mostly,” Red Hood agreed.

“Why is their bickering so familiar?” M’gann asked.

“It’s like they’re siblings,” Captain Marvel replied.

“Oh Gosh,” Kid Flash said, “You guys really don’t -”

Suddenly Nightwing, Robin and Red Hood stiffened in unison. The air seemed to drop several degrees. Then Batman strode into the room flanked by Superman and Wonder Woman.

“Thank the gods,” Wondergirl said. “This guy just showed up, he said he blackmailed Robin into letting him up, and Nightwing isn’t doing anything about it! Please tell us you -”

“Uncle Clark! Aunt Diana!” Red Hood seemed strangely happy to see the most powerful people in the League. He even knew their civilian names! There were several gasps.

Wonder Woman strode forward, and Red Hood sprang up to meet her. “ Red Hood! So good to see you. How has your life been my little warrior?” They hugged briefly, and Beast Boy almost fainted.

“Pretty good, Aunt Diana. You know, a little dark, a little gloomy. And, as always, hey, full of dead people. What are you gonna do?”

Robin snorted. “Did you just quote Hercules at Wonder Woman? An Amazon?”

Wonder smiled - quite motherly, Kaldur thought in the mind link - at Red Hood. “It's been too long my dear. Next time you have a day off, come find me in Paris. We should spend more time together.”

“I’ll be sure to!”

Wonder Woman stepped to the side to allow Superman forward. “Really, how have you been kiddo?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, supes. Haven’t been since I was fifteen and you know it.” Superman seemed to flinch, which in and of itself was a shock. Red Hood shrugged. “But I’ve been good. Had to deal with these idiots a lot,” he gestured to Nightwing and Robin, both of whom looked indignant, “but … I’ve been good.”

Superman smiled. “Great. You should come to the farm sometime, Ma misses you.”

“He can - he’s gone to the farm?!” Superboy couldn’t hold back his shock. He had only just been allowed to go, and meet Ma Kent.

Red Hood nodded as Superman stepped aside to join Wonder Woman. “Of course, I’ve been coming for years.”

Superboy was slack jawed at this revelation, and, despite much cajoling from his teammates, was unable to close his mouth.

“Hood.” Batman said. He spoke tiredly, in a way no one in the Team had ever heard him use before. “Do you have to traumatize everyone you meet?”

“Oh, you wanna talk about trauma?” Red Hood’s voice was filled with a maliciously gleeful tone. “ ‘Cause you should hear about this one time, I was hanging out with the Joker - just chilling, y’know - and then -”

Red Hood was cut off by a grimacing Nightwing punching him in the shoulder. “Not now, okay?”

“Come on, I’m sure the gang would love to hear all the gruesome details …”

“Hood,” Batman repeated slightly more urgently. “What are you doing on the Watchtower?”

Red Hood sighed. “For the last time, I wanted to say hi to the Team. I haven’t seen these guys in ages.”

“We have never met before,” Aqualad said, confused.

Red Hood shook his head. “They don’t remember me.” He seems thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe there weren’t enough explosions.”

“Hood,” Batman continued. “You know you aren’t allowed up here without permission. Which you just had to ask for. I would have set up a time to let you see everyone.”

This time when the Team was surprised, Nightwing and Robin joined in; Their faces twin depictions of shock.

Red Hood didn’t seem to care, though. “Since when have I ever asked you for anything, old man. Besides, this way is more fun. Drama, and all that sh*t.” He sat back on the sofa. “You should have seen their faces! Best fun I’ve had since Nightwing and I got drunk in Blüdhaven a few weeks back!”

Batman whirled to Nightwing, who was looking quite sheepish. “You did what?”

Nightwing shrugged. “It had been a long night, and I was getting over a bad break up. Hood was being an outstanding citizen by aiding me in my hour of need!”

“F*** yeah, Big-Wing!”

Batman shook his head. “Hood, you aren’t of legal drinking age, there is no way you were being an outstanding citizen.”

The Team could barely keep up. Nightwing and Red Hood were close enough to get drunk together? Hood was under twenty one? Batman seemed close enough to Hood to know he was under twenty one. Well, that last one could be easily explained: he was Batman after all.

Red Hood grumbled his assent before perking up. “Hey bats, is that why you still have me down as a villain on the official League files?”

Batman seemed at a loss for words. He just employed his signature BatGlare™  on the intruder. Red Hood didn’t seem affected at all, which could easily be taken as the most surprising thing about the whole encounter. Even Superman flinched at the BatGlare™.

“Do you understand the mixed signals you’re sending me?” Hood Continued. “I mean, I’m allowed to Sunday dinner, but I’m also classified as one of the most dangerous criminals on earth?”

“Sunday dinner?” Several people asked in unison.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered that you think so high of me, but I changed to f***ing rubber bullets for you! Doesn’t that give me some credit? Or were you just too lazy to change it. Like Replacement over here, who still goes by Robin.”

“Yes, of course you deserve to be taken off the list. You’ve made so much progress. I’ll change your file as soon as I can.” He frowned. “And for the love of god, please call Tim by his name, or hero moniker.”

“Yeah, call me by my name, Hood!” Robin seemed to be rolling his eyes under his domino mask. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Red Hood looked appeased. “Good.” He collapsed back on the couch and continued to clean his gun.

Batman sighed. “Do you want something else?”

“Well, now that you’re asking …” Red Hood seemed exceptionally sly. “It is getting a bit boring in here.” he paused as if to think. “Hey! We should throw a party! "

Batman glowered. "No. The last time I let you have a party, the Bat cave was covered in glitter for three days straight!"

“You’ve held parties in the Batcave?” Aqualad asked.

Red Good sighed and shook his head. "Good times, good times. But you forget that that glitter was purple. I wasn’t completely to blame!”

Batman sighed once more, while Robin sat up straight.

“Is that why Spoiler didn’t come to the house for a week?”

Nightwing nodded. “Yup. She was too scared to see Agent A. Though she wouldn’t mind yelling at B.”

“And flip him off while doing so.” Red Hood sighed contentedly. “I taught her well.”

“You didn’t teach her anything!” Nightwing contradicted. “She’s been flipping people off since before you returned to Gotham! She gave the single-fingered salute B when they first met - with a smile on her face!”

The Team wondered who could be so brave, none of them were.

Red Hood seemed overjoyed. “Really? Why haven’t I heard about this before! How did Batsy react?”

“Like a deer in headlights,” Robin replied, smirking.

Red Hood began to clap. “She makes the Robin legacy proud, doesn’t she?”

“Does that mean this girl was a Robin?” Rocket asked.

“Batman reacted like a deer in headlights?” Captain Marvel added.

Nightwing nodded sardonically. “Yes, because pissing off Batman is exactly what I had in mind when I started Robin.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, Golden Boy,” Red Hood snorted, “You’ve swung off of and broken enough chandeliers for it to be coincidance.”

Nightwing grimaced. “So there have been some casualties.”

Batman shook his head. “Casualties?”

Robin nodded quite seriously. “Of course, B. How else would you know to get gymnastic equipment?”

“He could have asked. Instead I had to spend thousands of dollars every time Nightwing decided he wanted to try some new trapeze routine.” Batman shook his head. “Why do all of you decide it's your job to vandalize my home?”

Robin raised his hands. “Hey, I didn’t destroy anything important!”

“No, you just randomly got rid of my computers when you decided we needed an upgrade.”

“Well we did!”

“Hah! I’ve never done any permanent damage to your house!” Red Hood seemed very self satisfied.

Batman, Nightwing, and Robin paused for a moment, thinking.

“That,” Robin said, “Is truly depressing.”

“Hn,” Batman replied.

“Good job Hood,” Nightwing said, “You have managed not to disappoint B in one field.”

Red Hood seemed to roll his eyes. “Don’t worry, I make up for it in all the other ways!”

“Can someone PLEASE explain to me what’s going on?” Garfield asked, bouncing in place.

All the bats turned to look at him in unison, causing the kid to shrink back and hide behind M’gann. A moment later, though, Red Hood sighed audibly. He reached up and felt for some hidden latches in his hamlet. There was a click and he pulled it off. Underneath was a red domino mask. He reached up and pulled that off next.

There were several gasps from the OG Team. The man before them was older, his jaw-line matured, scars littering his face. He had a white streak in his hair and blue eyes rimmed with a pulsing poisonous green. But they still recognized him.

“What?” Zattanna whispered, her eyes wide.

“You’re …” Conner began,shocked, “You’re alive?”

“How?”  Rocket asked. “You were dead.”

In unison, the five people who knew the stranger turned to Nightwing.

“You said you wouldn’t fake any more deaths!” M’gann announced, anger flowing through her.

“How could you, Dick?” Kaldur asked, frowning insteansly. “No more secrets, you promised.”

Nightwing sighed. “I had no part in this, let me tell you. It was the Al Ghuls. We didn’t find out till a year ago.”

“That’s still a year you took to tell us!” Conner glared.

Nightwing shrugged. “It was extenuating circumstances, alright? Not completely my choice.”

Seeing that questioning Dick would be fruitless, Zatanna turned back to the Red Hood. “how are you alive?”

He grinned. “The Lazarus Pit does wonders for the skin, let me tell you.”

This brought a stir throughout the room. Everyone had heard of the legendary substance that granted Ra’s Al Ghul immortality.

“Someone still needs to tell me who this is,” Cassie said, her hands on her hips.

Batman sighed. “Everyone, this is Jason Peter Todd, my son, and the second Robin.”

Everyone who didn’t already know blinked several times.

“The hologram in the park?” Jaime asked. “The one who was killed by the Joker?”

“The very one!” Jason grinned. “Nice to know some people know me.”

“I thought there were only two Robins?” La'gaan stated more than asked with a frown.

In unison, Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin, and even Superman started to laugh.

“Oh kid,” Jason said, grabbing his sides, “you’re adorable!”

“Only two Robins,” Superman said, grinning, “Batman wishes.”

Nightwing was choking with laughter, but once he’d calmed down, he looked at La’gaan again, and proceeded to break down again.

“Two Robins?!” Robin looked in awe, “Wow, now that’s a thought.”

“I’m sorry?” La'gaan asked. He didn’t look sorry.

“There have been five Robins,” Red Hood explained after a moment, “Six if you count that new kid. But that whole thing was kinda weird.”

“Six?!” several people announced, and looked at Batman, who nodded.

“How come we’ve never met them?” M’gann asked, “Nightwing, how could you not have told us?”

“You haven’t met them ‘cause most of the bats stick to Gotham,” Robin answered, “there hasn’t a need to drag everyone up here. Let alone the Robins.”

“Wait,” Zattanna said, “There are more bats?”

NIghtwing laughed again. “Oh boy, you guys really know nothing? Do any of you pay attention to Gotham?” There were several sheepish smirks, and Nightwing sighed. “Artemis is the only one who actually gets this, isn’t she?”

Jason frowned. “I wish she was here today, I wanted to say high.” he then looked at the still confused faces of the hero community. He stood up dramatically, as if about to start a grand speech.“Okay, rundown. You know Batman, obviously. Dicky-bird over there was the first Robin. I was the second. Then you have Timbo who was the third-”

“Was?” several people asked.

“I still go by Robin up here ‘cause it's easier-”

“He’s too lazy to change his codes, we already established this,” Jason interrupted, glaring, “After him you have Robin four, that was for the time that Tim’s dad banned him from the roll. Then he died, and she died, so Tim was back to being Robin.” he ignored the several open mouthed faces and persevered, “then you have the little gremlin who’s currently Robin. He’s the ‘bloodson’ which he takes very seriously, so don’t tell him that just because daddybats over there and Talia Al Ghul hooked up means that he’s the F***ing savior.” Everyone turned to stare at Batman.

“Talia Al Ghul?” Jaime asked, “Isn’t she an assassin?”

“Yup!” Nightwing announced, drawing attention onto him. “And the kid’s a cutie!”

Tim scoffed. “That’s not half the bats though,” he pointed out. “You have Batwoman, Batwing … hey, Azrael counts, right?”

“I mean,” Dick said, “He was Batman at one point, and lives in Gotham so yeah. He’d probably not want to be called that though.”

Jason laughed. “He and Leslie think we’re all crazy. I mean, they’re right, but still.”

Tim laughed. “Yup! Then you have the batgirls, number one, you guys know her. She’s Oracle now, a behind the scenes tech support goddess. Then Batgirl number two, she goes by Black Bat now, takes care of Hong Kong when she’s not visiting home and being the favorite child.”

Batman frowned. “I don’t have favor-”

“You do.” All three former Robins said in unison.

“So yeah,” Dick continued, “She’s awesome. Easily kicks our butts - including B! But after her you have Spoiler, the third Batgirl, and fourth Robin. After her there’s Catwoman -” there were several gasps. “Oh yeah, she and Bats are totally a thing - have been for years. You wouldn’t be surprised if you saw their flirting! There was this one time when I was Robin, I was supposed to case a building while B went after Cat, right? Well when i got there, they were already half-”

“That’s enough.” Batman growled, and Nightwing grinned.

“Moving on!” Jason announced, “since we all have horrible memories of batcat freaky roof time, you have Huntress, and Blue Bird. Then The Signal - he was kinda a half Robin, in a gang war sort of way. But that’s not important. He’s the only meta protege of batsy’s, and if that doesn’t scream second favorite child, I don’t know what does!”

“You allow metas in Gotham now?!” Garfield asked.

“No.” all the bats announced in unison.

“Signal is the exception, and if you met him, you’d understand. Easily the sanest out of all of us.” Jason explained with a wink.

“Relatively the sanest!” Tim announced. “He literally jumped out of a police car, of a bridge, into the Gotham river, while saying ‘I am Robin. Plus, he handled the demon spawn on a rampage. He’s just as crazy as the rest of us.”

“None of this explains why we haven’t met these people!” Connor said.

Batman sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll set up a meeting, check out who’s in town and such. Not today though, there’s a drug bust going down and no one’s available. Besides, they don’t even know what’s going on up here.”

Jason let out an awkward cough, and sat gingerly down on the couch. He seemed … guilty?

“Jason.” Batman growled in warning.

“I’m sorry, B!” Jason said, despite looking more along the lines of gleeful. “Blondie asked what I was doing today, and you know how hard it is to lie to her!”

Batman groaned - honest to gosh groaned! - and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s on her way right now, isn’t she?”

Jason shrugged. “She said something about grabbing snacks.”

Tim groaned. “We’re all dead.”

“What’s going on?” M’gann asked, “Why would this be bad?”

Dick sighed. “Spoiler is just … special.”

As if on cue, the door to the room crashed open dramatically, smoke seeping in. A purple clad figure stood dramatically in its wake, her cape swirling and arms raised over her head. She held two boxes of Munchkins in each fist.

“What’s up B*tches?” She asked. “I brought donuts!”

#batfam #young justice #batfam shenanigans #the team #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #m'gann m'orzz #garfield logan #stephanie brown #young justice cartoon #post season 2 #ignoring season 3 #banter #meet the batfam #fanfiction #red hood

[writingblock101]

#RedRobinIsAFurry (Tim Drake x Reader)

Request for @markofthewolf (aye I like your Diego profile picture!): Funny 9 with Tim?

Word Count: 1,200 

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish, @mayahoelland2013

If I didn’t get a prompt for Tim, this would’ve been the one I would’ve written for him anyways. Thanks for the request! Enjoy!

You snort awake to the sound of your phone ringing. Banging your hand blindly on your nightstand, you hear a thud and the music sounds slightly farther away. Groaning, you lean over the bed only to be blinded by your lit-up phone, indicating that Tim is calling you. You squint, snatching the phone off the ground and roll over, swiping your finger to answer it. 

“Hello?” 

While you’re more than aware of Tim’s less than healthy sleep schedule, you would hope your brilliant genius of a boyfriend would think to check the timezones between New Jersey and London. 

“I’m sorry to be calling at 4 am, but how do you turn off the cat?” Tim rushes out in one breath. 

You blink slowly, your barely awake mind sluggishly forming an intellectual response. 

“What?” 

“T’Challa will not shut up and he keeps walking across the Bat computer no matter how many times I put him on the floor. He can open doors, did you know that because I did not.” 

You blink again, barely processing a word of what Tim is saying. 

“...What?” 

Tim sighs. 

“I’m working on a case, but every time I try to sit at the computer, T’Challa sits on the keyboard or walks across it and screws everything up. How do I make him stop?” 

“Um…” You frown, trying to remember how you normally handle your cat when he gets antsy. 

He wants attention, that much is clear, but he doesn’t always ask for attention at the best times. While normally you’d tell Tim to take a break and play with him, a glance at your watch which is still set for Eastern Time tells you that it’s only 11:00 PM, meaning Tim’s night is just beginning. 

Mirroring.

“What?” Tim asks. 

“Huh?” 

“You said mirroring…?” 

That was out loud? 

Tim chuckles. 

“Yeah, babe. That was out loud.” 

“Oh.” 

“What’s mirroring?” Tim prompts. 

“Um… He wants to be involved,” You rub your head, trying to think of the best solution for Tim. “Do you have an old laptop or something? I made one out of a pizza box, but you’re rich.” 

“Um, yeah,” You hear things shuffling in the background. 

“Set it up next to you and he’ll lay on it. It makes him feel… Involved,” You explain. 

“...Cats are weird.” 

“Yeah, well, you dress up like a bird and beat up criminals so you don’t have any room to talk.” 

Tim laughs. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right… Jason started calling me a furry.” 

Maybe it’s because it’s 4 AM or maybe the idea of Tim being a furry is hilarious, but either way, you start cracking up.  

“Rawr XD,” You grin. 

“Yeah, it was all fun and games until Bruce asked me what a furry was.” 

You laugh harder, the mental image of billionaire Bruce Wayne hesitantly approaching his son after hearing Jason call him a furry to ask what exactly a furry is. 

“Do you think he Googled it first?” You wheezed. 

“Probably.” 

“Yiff yiff!” You exclaim, tears running down your face. 

You hear Tim sigh on the other end of the phone. 

“Tim! You may have awakened Bruce to his true identity!” 

Another sigh. 

“He saw the pictures and thought ‘hey, that sounds like me!’!”  

“How are you worse than Jason?” 

“Do you think he’s going to modify his suit?” 

Suddenly, the image of Batman, furry, and bright green with purple eyes pops into your head. You think you might be getting abs with how hard you’re laughing.

“I can’t breathe!” You exclaim between laughs. “Oh my gosh, I need this to be real!” 

“I don’t!”

“Don’t worry, Timmy, one day, you’ll accept your true identity.” 

“Calling you was a mistake.” 

“Maybe we can modify your suit!” 

“I should’ve just suffered through T’Challa.” 

“You know, I think some fur would do wonders on the Red Robin suit.” 

“Is this Hell? I deserve this, don’t I?” 

“Instead of the white eye covers, we can glue on some googly eyes!” 

“Fight crime, they said. It’s for the greater good, they said.” 

“We could even go to the annual furry convention!” 

“People won’t start calling you a furry, they said.” 

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re the only guy I OwO for.” 

“... Is that how that’s really pronounced?” 

“Is that what we should be focusing on or should we talk about how you knew exactly what I was talking about despite not seeing it typed out? YOU’RE TOTALLY A FURRY!” 

“I AM NOT A FURRY!” 

You start laughing again, another round of tears gathering in your eyes before finally, you slump back against your pillow, your eyes feeling heavy.

“I miss you,” You say quietly. 

“Even though you’re bullying me, I miss you too,” Tim responds. 

“Bullying you?” You yawn. “I would never!” 

“Uh-huh, sure you wouldn’t.” 

“I’m just trying to help you accept your true identity!” 

“Wow, I am so blessed to have such a supportive partner.” 

“I’m pretty much the best,” You grin sleepily, pulling your blanket tighter around you. 

“How has London been?” Tim asks. 

You put the phone on speaker, your hand tired from holding it to your face. 

“It’s been amazing. It’s so beautiful here, but British people are weird.” 

Tim chuckles. 

“Yeah? How so?” 

“Hearing a British accent cat calling me is so bizarre.” 

Tim laughs, making you smile at the sound. While England as been amazing, you really miss your boyfriend. 

“Some of the food is weird too, but it’s still good.” 

“I’m glad to hear you’re having fun.” 

“I wish you were here with me, I think you would really like it.” 

“Oh yeah?” Tim asks. “Then I guess we’ll have to go together.” 

“That would be nice,” You smile, your eyes getting heavy. “You playing nice with Damian?” 

Tim scoffs. 

“I’m not the one you need to be worried about!” 

You hum. 

“I dunno, babe. The last time I wasn’t in New Jersey when I came back, you’d gotten a haircut with a flame thrower.” 

“It wasn’t a flame thrower.” 

“Yeah, whatever alien tech. Point is, Damian was the one holding it.” 

“We’ve been fine,” Tim promises. “Playing nice.” 

“Good,” You smile, letting your eyes close. 

The line goes silent. Tim glances over at his phone where it’s resting on the desk. 

“Y/N?” He says quietly, but only hears the sound of soft breathing. 

He smiles to himself, knowing you feel back to sleep and reaches out to pet T’Challa who is happily purring on an old laptop. 

“Do you feel involved?” Tim asks jokingly as T’Challa pushes his head into Tim’s hand. “Maybe you’ll help me solve a few cases.” 

Tim glances back over at the phone and picks it up. 

“Good night, Y/N. I love you,” Then he hangs up, letting you sleep. 

. . . 

Tim blinks awake the next morning, his arms sore from patrol. He stretches his arm then lets it flop onto the bed and reaches for his phone. A Twitter notification is waiting for him. Tim clicks on the notification and sees that you had tweeted: 

#RedRobinIsAFurry No, I do not take constructive criticism. 

“Oh my gosh,” Tim’s head hit his pillow. 

It had over 4,000 likes and over 5,000 retweets, the first one being from Jason, of course. Tim opens his text messages to you. 

Tim: I hate you. 

Y/N:  😘

Tim laughs and puts his phone down then he hears a familiar meow. He glances up to see T’Challa staring at him from the foot of his bed. 

“I suppose you’re hungry, aren’t you?” 

T’Challa’s tail swishes back and forth. Tim tosses back his blankets then scoops up the black cat to go feed him. He can’t wait until you’re home again. 

#no offense if you're actually a furry #you do you fam #tim drake #red robin #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #batman #dc #request #furry #funny #barely editing #we die like jason todd #but hey #its a 4 am phone call #also yes i named the cat after black panther

[afni-fics]

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins by C_R_Scott Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: Jack Drake had lied to Tim about his grandmother's death. However, Jack is also dead himself. Tim attempts to cope with the aftermath of learning the truth of what his father had done. Fortunately, he is not alone.

...

"Jack lied."

Lucius's words were stuck in Bruce's head as Alfred drove him into Gotham City from the Manor. They kept repeating themselves over and over and over again. After about ten minutes of focused brooding, Bruce finally voiced the question he knew he couldn't run away from.

"How did I miss this?"

From the driver's seat, Alfred glanced at Bruce via the rear-view mirror. "You had no way of knowing."

"I should have known."

"How?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "Tim didn't even know? His fa--" The old man choked on the word with a grimace, as if he'd bitten into a piece of bitter melon. He huffed irritably before continuing. "--Jack lied to him for years, and gave none of us any reason to suspect anything coming out of his mouth was false."

Bruce shook his head as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. After three rings, the line finally connected.

"You do know it's not even noon, right?" Barbara Gordon grumbled. "What could you possibly want at this ungodly time of the morning?"

"It's about Tim."

There was moment of pause. When Barbara spoke, drowsiness had been replaced with concern in her tone. "What's wrong? Is he alright? Is he having a delayed reaction to the new Fear Toxin?"

Bruce hesitated before answering, making a quick mental note to double check Tim's bloodwork as soon as he could. If Tim was suffering a delayed Fear Toxin reaction on top of everything else, that could further complicate his son's compromised emotional state. 

"It's not about the Fear Toxin, though that could be exacerbating the situation in the background," Bruce said finally. "I need you to do some digging into Tim's family history."

"You're asking me to investigate Tim? Why? What's going on?"

"Tim was never an orphan."

"WHAT?!" 

"We just discovered today he has a living maternal grandmother," Bruce explained. "But for whatever reason Jack Drake lied to Tim and his mother eight years ago and told them both she was dead. From what I've been told, his grandmother was supposed to have had full custody of him back then. Then she got hospitalized. When she was finally well enough to be released, Jack had managed to sever all ties between her and Tim."

"Jesus Christ," Barbara breathed out softly. "Does Tim kno-- Never mind, of course he knows otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to do the investigating. Is he with you now?"

"I'm going to his place in the city with Alfred to check on him. Tracker says he's stationary at the Nest."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Do a deep dive into the history between Tim's parents and his grandmother. Her name is Susan Klein. We need to learn what exactly triggered the original custody arrangement, as well as how Jack managed to take custody away from Susan and hide the fact that she was alive from both Tim and his mother. I also want to know why the hell the courts and CPS didn't get involved back then to return Tim to his grandmother, especially after Jack died."

"You also want to find the rest of Jack's skeletons," Barbara inferred. "Because if Jack lied about something this big to his own son--"

"--What else did he lie about?--"

"--And how much damage could this do to Tim if it's brought to light?" Bruce could hear Barbara indulge in a weary sigh. "Holy shit... Ok... Ok... Ok... Give me an hour to get a shower, coffee, and food. Then I'll start digging. This is all cold case kinda stuff, so it's not going anywhere. Keep me posted if you pick up any new leads from Tim."

"Thanks Barbara."

"Oh, by the way... Who else knows about this?"

"Alfred, Lucius, and Tam."

"Alright. I'll keep this on the down low from the rest of the fam until you can check on Tim. Take care of him, Bruce."

"I will."

With the call ended, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. What was he going to find when they finally got the Nest?  He didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Bruce and Alfred found themselves being led through Tim's home by a deeply concerned Tamara Fox.

 ...

Three months and twenty-eight days.

That's how long it took for Tim to travel around the US and the world, investigate multiple archaeological sites, survive the Council of Spiders, cripple the League of Assassins, save the girl, and return home with proof of his adopted father being alive. So much mileage, blood, and lives lost had gone into the journey to recover Bruce Wayne from the time stream Darkseid had sent him into.

Nineteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

That's all the time it took for Tim to find evidence his grandmother was alive and well and still living in the same house she always had for the past fifty years. He didn't have to leave Gotham. He didn't even have to leave his workstation. All the information was at his fingertips online. All the evidence pointed at the conclusion that his grandmother (and the truth) had always been just a few keystrokes away.

But that couldn't be right. If that was right, that meant his father lied to him and his mother. Jack Drake wouldn't have done that. So it had to be wrong. Tim just couldn't figure out how the evidence was wrong.

"Recognized: Tamara Fox. Alpha-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-One. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

The voice of Tim's AI security matrix echoed through the cavernous space of Tim's brand new "Nest", the hidden vigilante base of operations tucked behind his renovated theater home. The young man barely acknowledged the announcements, though, as he sat motionless at his workstation with his elbows propped up on the desk and his face buried in his hands. Slowly, his hands shifted, sliding down his face over closed eyes to linger over his nose and mouth. Tim drew in a breath through his nose and tried to release it slowly through his mouth. Despite his attempt at control, his breath shuddered audibly as he exhaled. Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and shifted his hands to press against them. The adjustment exposed his mouth pressed into a grim, trembling line as he struggled to keep any sound from escaping.

Despite his best efforts, a thin trickle of moisture escaped his hands and coursed down his cheek. 

Tim heard the hidden door that connected the Nest to his living room slide open, and blindly identified the footsteps of three people walking into his inner sanctum. One of them he was certain was Tam, and he had his suspicions about the other two.

However, in order to confirm them, he would have had to remove his hands and open his eyes...

...and he was not ready to do that just yet.

 ...

The moment Bruce laid eyes on Tim, he felt his heart ache at the sight before him. There was his son, sitting alone at his workstation, and everything in his body language was silently crying out with shock and dismay. 

For a brief few seconds, Bruce froze. His mind was a panicked jumble. What could he do?! What could he say?! How was he going to fix this?! 

Then Tim slowly lifted his head from his hands, and he when he looked over at Bruce, the older man's breath got stuck in his throat. His normally confident and unwavering teenager looked so dazed and hurt and utterly lost. 

"B?"

A single letter, barely whispered, partly a question, but mostly a plea, was all it took. Bruce's feet were no longer rooted to the floor, and he quickly closed the distance between himself and his son, because his boy had called out to him.

Tim rose to his feet as he saw Bruce approach, and he let himself be wrapped up in his adopted father's arms. Bruce could feel Tim lean into him, could feel the anxious tension in every muscle in his son's back as the boy buried his face into his chest. 

"I'm here, Tim," Bruce murmured as soothingly as he could as he stroked Tim's hair. "It's going to be ok."

"I... I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Tim whispered mournfully.

"Wrong?"

"Dad said she died. He wouldn't have lied about that. He couldn't have." Unconsciously, Tim's hand fisted into Bruce's shirt, as if he were hanging on for dear life. "But Lucius says she's alive... Been alive this entire time. And the evidence..." 

As more words spilled out from his boy's mouth, Bruce heart broke at the brittle desperation in Tim's voice.

"I have to be missing something. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making a mistake somewhere and I don't know what it is." Tim drew in a shuddering breath. "Or maybe it's the Fear Toxin. An after effect? Maybe it's making me hallucinate? Mis-hear... Misinterpret things?" He turned his head from Bruce's chest and gazed uneasily at the workstation monitors. "Maybe I'm just seeing things? Maybe I'm just losing my mind?"

The fact that Tim's voice took on a hopeful edge at the thought of going crazy sent a stab of deep concern through Bruce. A quick glance at the workstation monitors showed him all the evidence Tim had dug up on his own since leaving Wayne Tower. A lump rose to his throat. When he spoke, he could barely force his own voice above a hoarse whisper. 

"You're not hallucinating, Tim. I... I can see the evidence myself."

Tim's eyes widened at the screens, then he shut them tightly before shaking his head. "No... No no no no no..."

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce glanced over to Tamara, who looked close to tears herself, but was managing to just barely hold herself together. She had one arm wrapped around herself and the other held her cell phone. He could see Lucius's name on the screen as the current active call. 

"Yes?"

Tam swallowed hard before answering. "My dad's on the line. I told him we found Tim. He... He's with Nana... Tim's grandma... right now."

Bruce felt Tim freeze in his arms. He felt his own heart stutter as well. 

"She... would like to speak with Tim, if he's able. She understands though if he's too overwhelmed right now."

Tim turned his gaze to Tam's phone, his red-rimmed blue eyes wide and warring between longing and dread.

Bruce stroked Tim's back. "You... don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured. "We can wait until you feel better... Until we figure things out on this side."

For several seconds, there was nothing but tense silence in the air. Bruce could practically see the gears turning and grinding in Tim's mind. He could see the war play out on his son's face as he struggled to make a decision. Then, finally, Tim uneasily reached out and offered an open hand to Tam.

Tam nodded and raised the phone to her own ear first. "I'm handing my phone to Tim now." Then, she carefully gave Tim the cell, watching as he wrapped his fingers about the edges of the device and raised it to his own ear. 

"H-Hello?"

Though he was still holding Tim closely, Bruce wasn't close enough to hear much of other end of the call. He could tell it was a woman's voice, but couldn't make out most of the words. But he could see his son. He watched, helpless, as after a moment Tim's eyes filled immediately with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. One short anguished sob escaped him before he used his other hand to clamp his mouth shut. Though it stifled the sounds, Bruce could still see and feel the sobs wracking his boy's entire frame. 

As Bruce held him tighter, he could hear the tone of the woman's voice shift to something so soothing and maternal that his own heart ached along with his son's. It had the desired effect of calming Tim enough so that the could finally find his voice once more. 

"I love you, too, Nana," he whimpered softly. Then, he stretched out his hand and gave the phone back to Tam, who was in tears herself as she took it back. 

Once his hands were free and the phone was pressed again to Tam's ear as she spoke with her father, Tim crumpled to the floor as he burst into tears once more, this time without restraint. Bruce followed him down to control his fall and let his son cried brokenheartedly against him.

"He lied," Tim keened between sobs. "He lied... He lied... He lied..."

Tears coursed down Bruce's face as he watched his son come apart at the seams. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Alfred gazing at him with love, sorrow, and tear-filled eyes as well. Though long dead, Jack Drake had broken their beloved boy's heart, and they would be damned if they didn't do their best to put the pieces back together again and make things right for everyone involved.

...

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: This was a challenging chapter to write. I hope I did Tim's breakdown justice. Things will, hopefully, start looking up for him from this point onward for a bit.

As for the length of time I put down as Tim's search for Bruce during the origin Red Robin run, this was just a wild guess on my part. In the comics, there was a map on a page in the first issue showing a map with pins on where he had previously investigated. Based on that, I estimated he had been travelling nonstop for at least several months before being intercepted by Ra's and getting dragged into the League and Council drama along with Tam.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

#rr: in hindsight #tim drake #tam fox #tim/tam #red robin #fanfiction #wip #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam

[maribatlife]

Without Context Pt. 3

Prev

AO3

Shorter wait this time guys!

Tag List:

@bee-wrecker

“This is unbelievable. You’re probably the only person in Gotham who wouldn’t recognize that name. Wayne, as in Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham.”

“Oh, is he your dad?”

“Pixie, never change. But the rest of the family is going to want to meet you soon. I let you know when.”

“Sure, my schedule is wide open.” He gave her an expectant look. “Oh, duh, you need to be able to contact me. How could I forget that? Silly Marinette, hehehe.” She babbled as she wrote down her phone number for him.

“Thanks Mari, I’ll text you later.” He said as he put his helmet back on and swung off the balcony.

As Jason left, Marinette realized how late in the day it was getting. “Gah, the shop! How could I forget!”

“Marinette, Marinette, MARINETTE” Tikki shouted. “You’re the owner, you decide when you open.”

“But the customers….” And she rushed down the stairs.

The day was fairly slow, a few people popped in to see the new shop. Jason texted around noon to set up dinner for Friday.

Right before she was about to close, 3 women entered the store. Marinette let them browse as she set up for the next day. “Is there anything I can help you with?” She asked, having run out of busy work.

“Actually, yeah,” the girl in purple replied. “Our,” she paused, clearly trying to think of the right word. “Brother just met his soulmate.”

“And you’re meeting them soon?” Marinette finished.

“Exactly! Plus, I’m sure there’s going to be a huge fancy-ass party as soon as his dad can get everything together.”

“Your site said you do commissions?” The one in the wheelchair asked.

“I do, the ready-wear can be fitted and ready for the end of the week, and commissions are dependent on the final pattern. I have a look book here if you would like to browse for ideas. We can schedule a consult appointment for later in the week...” she trailed off.

“Oh, right, I’m Barbara, this is Stephanie,” she gestured to the blonde in purple, “And Cassandra.” She motioned at the young Asian girl with them. “Later in the week definitely works for the consults.”

“So you met your Soulmate?” Stephanie asked as she browsed the racks.

“Yes, a few days ago.” Marinette sheepishly admitted. “He startled me and I screamed in his face.”

“Well, it’s better than mine,” Stephanie laughed. “Mine scared me at night and I smashed him in the face with a brick.”

That night, while embroidering on her couch, Marinette heard a thump from her balcony. Seemingly ignoring it she placed her hoop on the coffee table and reached for the bracelet she kept in her pocket. As she turned around, she saw the giant shadow, entering through her balcony door. Batman, she thought. What the actual f-

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” his low voice boomed.

“Oh look it’s the man with a giant batsuit,” She sassed back.

“It’s Batman.”

“The man with a giant batsuit.” No way was she going to let him know that he had actually frightened her. “What do you want, furry?”

“What are your intentions towards Hood?”

“Well I figured that we would ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after.” Her saccharine voice biting through his armor. “Oh, maybe we could raise unicorns and exist off candy all day long.” She dropped the tone, “Go jump off a roof. Our plans are between us and if you want to know you should try building a better relationship with Hood. Now get out of my apartment before I call the cops.” She turned back and continued her embroidery. After he left, she locked the sliding door, no more unexpected visitors tonight. She had barely covered a petal of the flower, when she heard another thump, this one significantly lighter. One of the birds she thought.

On her balcony, Robin struggled to open the door. He had managed to get it unlocked but did not realize she kept a barrier on the track to stop it from opening.

She sighed before getting up to open the door. “What do you want Draco?”

“My name is Robin. I do not know this Draco you refer to.”

“You poor, uneducated child.”

“-tt- How can you be worthy of my brother?”

“Take it up with the universe, kid.” Robin was visibly getting angry with her, but she was done.

“I challenge you to a duel,” He snapped, hand flying towards his sword.

“Nope, nope, no you don’t.” Nightwing swung down and grabbed the sword out of his hand.

Unhand my sword Nightwing. She must prove her worth to join this family.”

“Robin, that is not how any of this works. I’m so sorry, Miss.” He directed towards Marinette. “Baby Bird and the Bat have issues respecting privacy. Have a good night.” He called out as he jumped off the balcony, dragging Robin with him.

“You know what,” Marinette told the kwamis that had gathered around her as she secured the door again. She cast a forlorn glance at her embroidery sitting abandoned on the coffee table, “I think I’m just going to go to bed. It’s too late for this.”

Early Friday morning, the 3 women from earlier came by to pick up their altered items. A few hours later, Marinette had worked herself up into a full panic. “Tikki,” she whined from the depths of her closet. “What am I going to wear? What if they hate me? Gahh, I can’t do this right now!”

“Marinette, whatever you choose will be fine.”

“But Tikki, this isn’t a normal meeting. This is meeting my soulmate’s family! It has to be perfect.”

“What about the Chat dress,” Plagg interjected. “It’s black and don’t you always say you can’t go wrong with black?”

She dragged out a 50s style off the shoulder Swing dress with a built in alternating neon green and black tulle petticoat.

“Oh and the Ladybug heels,” Tikki dragged out the aforementioned deceptively simple black shoes. Marinette had painted the sole and shank of the heels to mimic her original Ladybug costume.

“Hmm,” she mused. “What to style it with?” She quickly added a few loose waves to her hair, before hesitating. To bring Kaalki’s glasses or not? At a nod from Tikki she grabbed them and they shifted into a pair of cat-eye glasses. “Alright, I think I’m ready.” At that moment the doorbell rang. “Oh, that must be Jason.”

“Marinette,” Tikki said from her bag, “Don’t forget the Macarons!”

“Right,” she grabbed the box. “Thanks Tikki.”

Jason stood, leaned against the hood of a cherry red convertible. “You ready to meet everyone?”

“Can you go over everyone again on the ride?”

“Not a problem,” he opened the door to let her in. “First, we have Bruce and Alfred. Alfred raised Bruce after his parents were murdered. He knows everything and is amazing.”

“And Bruce is your dad, right?”

“Yes, he might go full Brucie on you.

“What is full Brucie?”

“Oh that’s what we call it when he acts like a total dumbass. Dick coined it, he was the first one that was adopted. He’s now a Cop in Bludhaven. After me, B took in Tim. He’s sixteen and already graduated High School, right now he’s working at WE in R&D. The last of us is Damian, he’s Bruce’s bio son. His mom showed up a coupla years ago and told B, “surprise, it’s a boy!” He’s an angry little shit.”

“Do they know that I know?”

“Nope, figured we could have fun with that. That’s why you’ll get the Brucie treatment.” Soon they pulled off the long mountain drive onto a private road where an ornate gate stood open, waiting for them.

“They’re watching us as we pull up right?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Jason parked the car next an imposing staircase, leading up to the soaring Gothic entry.

“Wow,” Marinette muttered under her breath. “I wish I had my sketch book.”

Jason chuckled as he led her up the stairs. “You’ll have plenty of chances to sketch to your heart’s content.” As they reached the top step, the double doors swung open to reveal an older man in a suit. “See spies everywhere,” Jason murmured in her ear.

“Master Jason, welcome home. This must be Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Hello Monsieur Pennyworth, please call me Marinette.”

“Of course, Miss Marinette, if you call me Alfred.”

As they walked into the entry, they heard a cry of, “She’s here!” As, who Marinette could only assume was Dick, flipped off the second-floor balustrade, swinging on the chandelier on the way down. “Hi, Marinette, right?” He held out his hand to her.

“You must be Dick.”

“Aw, is Jay-bird talking about me?”

Marinette got a teasing glint in her eye. “Oh yes, he mentioned how you can’t stop yourself from jumping off of high places.”

Before she could continue, she was interrupted by a wordless scream of unadulterated rage. “Drake, get back here and face your punishment like a man!”

Two boys came running down the stairs, the younger chasing the older with, wait is that a katana. They really weren’t any good at this whole secret identity thing, were they, thought Marinette.

“Really Demon Spawn, you’re going to do this today?” Jason said as he plucked him off the ground. Dick was just pinching his nose in exasperation.

#jasonette #maribat #without context au #My writing

[whereflowersbloom]

Hypermarket adventure

When Tim Drake woke up that morning he had no idea he would have to buy a new coffee maker because the one they had was unusually broken. Damian Wayne. A faint headache pounding behind his temples as Tim massaged them, exhaustion sinking deep in his bones, and wonders how long it's been since he had more than four hours of sleep. Damian was responsible for this, one of his secret schemes to make him stop consuming caffeine. Tim was sure it was his fault, so the broken coffee maker refused to give him the fluid of life and he had lost it...and maybe Tim destroyed it with vicious vengeance. In his defense, he had been up for more than twenty-four hours. Sleep later coffee first.

So naturally he announced to Alfred he would be making a quick trip to the store to get a new one, politely asked the British man if he required anything from the store. Alfred seemed to consider the offer for a solid minute before asking him if he could get some groceries and essentials on his way back home. Handing him a list. Before he walked out of the manor Dick volunteered affably to accompany him, convincing a grumpy Jason, who was comfortably sitting, reading a wrinkled newspaper, to tag along. Jason surprisingly agreed, with the condition he was the one driving. Alfred rapidly suggested to take the demon spawn with them, he could use some frest air. Now things could only go downhill from this point. This piqued Steph’s interest, who casually commented she had nothing better to do. Soon they were on their way to the closest hypermarket.

Dick was there to make sure Damian didn’t behead anyone and get enough boxes of cereal he could hide before Alfred looked at him with disappointed eyes. There’s nothing worse in this world than Alfred’s disappointed eyes. The old man claimed ‘It’s not a proper meal nor healthy if it contained high levels of sugar’, but the companies also tended to fill them with vitamins, calcium, iron and folic acid. Therefore it was a fortified food! It had everything he needed for a balanced meal in Dick’s opinion. The extra sugar was even good for him considering how many calories he burned.

“The sword stays in the car, Damian.” Dick commanded, taking away the blade from twelves earth-old before he sets a foot out of the automobile, which was responded by a ‘TT’.

“Did we really have to bring shortstack?” Jason complained, voice etched with irritation, index finger pointing at Damian.

“As if I would agree to lower my nutritional standards because you fools failed to purchase the provisions Pennyworth demanded which is why I have it in my power.” Damian logically explained, grinding his teeth and waving the list at Jason.

“Don’t stab anyone.” Dick ordered with authority.

“I make no promises, Grayson.” Damian muttered dryly crossing his arms over his chest.

Damian cannot comprehend why would Pennyworth think he was needed to carry out such a simple task, he supposed if his siblings lacked the basic function acquire the list of edibles Alfred gave them and simultaneously behave in public, then he could supervise them. He was already here with them. Nothing to do about it.

“Did anyone asked Cass if she needed anything?” Dick questioned them, clear blue eyes looking at them expectantly. Cass was probably still in her bedroom resting, after staying up with him analyzing some cases.

“Oh how thoutful of you. You weren’t that nice to me, not even after I died.” Jason commented, his voice dripping with sarcasm and bitterness.

“Jay, you gotta stop bringing it up.” Dick reasoned as he placed a hand upon Jason’s shoulder, offering a small apologetic smile.

For once, Damian was quiet, observing the older brothers bicker over such a insignificant matter. Stephanie stifled a snort at their immature antics. A muffled ‘crybaby’ escaped her mouth, but only Tim, standing next to her was able to hear it.

It took everything Tim had not to roll his eyes and simply walk away. Why was he here with these troublemakers? Right. Coffee. The thing she had to endure for a duo of black coffee.

“I texted Cass. She wants pop tarts.” Stephanie supplied, eye glued to the screen of her phone.

“If you get lost. I’m leaving you here, losers.” Jason threatened with narrowed eyes, a faint glow in his blue-green eyes. Five minutes after parking the car, the siblings marched inside the hypermarket. Tim sighed wearily, silent calculations running through his mind, how long it would take them to leave the store with the groceries. Dick promptly grabbed a shopping cart.

~~~

Jason Todd was ready to shoot Dick Grayson if only he had a gun between his hands. Why the fuck did he even agree to come with these lil shits? Clearly, he wasn’t in his right mind. He was doing this for Alfred and Jason could never say no to Alfred. It was an easy task: read the list of essentials Alfred wrote down, grab the items, deposit them inside the fucking cart and pay for them. Piece of cake. But here he was in the middle of dairy aisle, listening to Dick asking him all sort of stupid questions. His patience dangerously wearing thin.

“Why is milk five dollars a gallon?” Dick exclaimed with shock as he examined the dairy product’s label.

“Who cares? You’re rich, money shouldn’t be a problem, dickhead.” Jason replied annoyed, there goes ten minutes of his life, stuck in the dairy aisle with this enthusiastic fool. Where did Damian and Steph go? Dick had thrown several boxes of cereal inside the cart, including: Cheerios and Waffle crisps, the latter was Steph’s petition. Who in the bloody hell needed fifteen boxes of cereal? Wait a minute, is that coffee flakes? That one had to be Tim’s idea.

“How do you exactly milk an almond though?” Dick asked with furrowed Brows, concentrated on the product, as If he was trying to decipher a secret code.

The desperation and bewilderment in Dick’s voice made a Jason raise an eyebrow. He would kill for a quick smoke. Not like he was seriously considering smoking inside the store. He could wait a few more minutes.

“I’ll explain out to you when you finally become a functional adult.” Jason breathed. Around them, the store buzzed, bright lights shining above and people murmuring and talking, nobody had recognized them so far. Even Jason felt a twinge of irritation at being here, and he wanted to get this shopping trip over with so he could go home.

“Who wants bacon?” Stephanie came out of nowhere, asking with a juvenile glee in her eyes as she dumped ten packs of bacon. Damian wouldn’t be happy about this.

“Where is the gremlin? We should have put him inside the cart.” Jason tried to keep a calm voice, looking around for any sign of little D. Jason had a bad feeling about this, settling at the pit of his stomach. He let out a deep breath and decided it was the moment to have that cig. So two missing, Damian and Tim. There it was that nagging voice was a constant in the back of his mind, reminding him of his responsibility, look after adoptive relatives.

“Steph, make sure replacement didn’t fall asleep at the Kitchen appliances section.” Jason commanded. “Dick, it’s your turn to supervise the rascals.” Slowly making his way towards the alcohol section, he could use a drink right now. Now, find an unpacked corner where he can have a smoke.

“What?” Dick exclaimed, suddenly finding himself alone in the dairy section. Where did everyone go?

~~~

Dick was passing by the cereal aisle again, because you can never have enough cereal. Perhaps he should get more lucky charms? Cinnamon toast was a must. Nobody in this family understood the enjoyment of ingesting artificially colored cereal. He was about to grab another box of fruity pebbles, lost in the paradise of cocoa, cinnamon and colored cereals, when abruptly a feminine voice brought him back to earth. He turned to catch a glimpse, eyes focused on the petite woman: average height, brunette, mid-twenties, freckled-cheeks, small gray eyes widened in irritation. This looked like trouble. What did he do?

“Excuse me, sir. Is this kid your little brother? We caught him bothering other customers at the meat section.” The petite employee questioned him with raised eyebrows, hands on her hips. Dick blinked puzzled. What. He kept his eyes fixed on the woman.

“When I asked if he was here accompanied by an adult. He pointed a finger at you.” Dick spotted then Damian, standing next to the woman, lips pursed, arms folded against his chest, glancing away, fleetingly looking younger than he actually was. Like a small child who was severely reprimanded for inappropriate behavior. What the hell Damian...

“I merely reminded him the innocent chicken between his hands deserved a life free from torture and suffering. We have the moral responsibility to protect animals!” Damian spoke plainly as he corrected the woman who dared accuse him of harassment.

“Damian, sto-“ Richard chimed in when he was interrupted by Damian’s animals rights speech.

“Allowing an animal to suffer is unethical and cruel. It’s slaughter! You are causing them unnecessary distress. Their throats are slit mercilessly! All animals have the ability to suffer in the same way and to the same degree that humans do.” The young Wayne continued, grumpily making eye contact with the uninformed store employee. Blue eye flicked between the two, the brunette seemed to be about to explode, Damian’s body language tightened, there was a crackling in the air and Dick instantly knew it was not going to end well. Shit. He ruffled his hair nervously.

“Damian no.” He pleaded urgently. Beads of sweat running down his forehead and cheekbones.

“Sir, could you please take your younger brother? Customers are agitated and perturbed by his presence.” The employee politely asked him but Dick could tell she was utterly irked at this point. Dick nodded and draped an arm over his little brother’s shoulders. Yeah, he was definitely taking him far, far away from her. Praying Damian kept his mouth shut and didn’t screw up even more. Predictably, Damian didn’t leave it alone.

“Again, as I explained earlier. I was elaborating on the numerous health and environment benefits of adopting a vegetarian diet.” Damian corrected her with trembling lips, green eyes filled with anger. This woman didn’t comprehend the great importance of saving an innocent life. Tsk. Father said even if someone is being disrespectful or crude he should not sink to their level, but this lady was being rude.

“Aren’t you one of Bruce Wayne’s ward?” The woman spoke with narrowed gray eyes, taking a step closer to Richard, studying closely the features of the older man.

Oh fuck. Unfortunately, she recognized them. Dick held up both hands defensively.

“I am the blood s-“ Damian was about to clarify when Dick rapidly covered his mouth with a large hand. “We are leaving now, Damian. Thank you, lady. Have a nice day.” He muttered hurriedly before running off.

~~~

Finally, Tim was getting in line for the cashier, the precious coffee maker in his arms, he could make himself a decent cup of black coffee as soon as they got home. A satisfied smile almost curled on his lips when he recognized the familiar sound of his siblings yelling, if his ears didn’t fail him and they never did. Oh no. Tim held a stiff nervous expression as he slowly turned to face them. He quickly scanned the scene, eyes wide in alarm. Remain calm Tim. Stephanie being escorted by a security guard, clothes stained, next was Jason groaning at the guard that tried to touch his leather jacket, followed by an embarrassed Dick with flushed cheeks, lastly Damian being dragged against his will. “Let me go! I can walk out of this questionable establishment myself.” Damian protested with boiling anger, glaring daggers at the security guards. His sword was inside the car. Good. No opportunity to behead anyone and commit a crime. Jason and Stephanie were clearly pissed. Dick pressing his face against a wall, undoubtedly ashamed.

Tim momentarily contemplated leaving the store with the coffee maker, a few seconds later, he couldn’t find it in him to abandon them to their fate here. Sigh. With the heavy weigh of his burdens, Tim approached a female employee. “Excuse me, those are my siblings. Could you explain to me what exactly they did?”

“Sir, this young lady here organized a shopping cart race along with some children in the middle of the vegetable section.” The angry store employee began, detecting unfiltered rage in her tone, as she pointed a finger at the blonde teenager.

“I did nothing Jason wouldn’t have done.” Stephanie told him, briefly exchanging glances with Jason. Jason bit down on his lower lip to repress laughter, whispering an almost inaudible ‘amateur’. Stephanie shrugged it off as it was unimportant, instead of trying to come up with an excuse that contained any sense of logic.

“This man was deliberately smoking inside the store.” Tim studied Jason’s amused expression. Probably not the first time he was caught doing it. “I mean she isn’t wrong.” He pointed out calmly, Shrugging broad shoulders nonchalantly.

“I found the kid tormenting customers at the meat aisle, he fled with the man with cereal fixation.” Before Damian could utter a word in his defense. Dick shut his mouth. Richard’s eyes silently expressing a wordless ‘don’t ask’. Tim was way too exhausted to deal with this. His body shaking with small movements for a second, stay in control. No time to collapse, solutions not more problems.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you and the rest of your relative to leave the store. And please do not come back.”

Tim fluttered his dark cerulean eyes close, feeling a very sharp pain in his temples. A recurrent migraine coming, cursing lowly for not stopping at the pharmacy to get aspirins. How is that he is the only rational and almost-functional person in this family. Coffee, coffee, coffee was the only thing he could think about. Less than fifty minutes and the Wayne’s discovered a way to get themselves banned from a Hypermarket. Likely setting a new world record.

Looks like they wouldn’t have the chance to go grocery shopping as a family any time soon. Not like it was a brilliant idea to begin with. They would have groceries delivered next time.

Here @sofiii 👀👀👀👀🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

#batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #nightwing #red hood #red robin #batgirl #dc fandom #dc universe #dc comics #batsiblings #batkids #shenanigans #batman universe #spoiler

[zambie-trashart]

Land of the Free and Home of the Wayne pt 9

master list

ao3 whole story

Summary: It’s free day and three kids have an idea on how to make it a little more interesting.

....................................................

Lila got up in the morning to take a shower slipping on the slimy floor. She waved it off and started the water getting in. She reached for her shampoo but when she squeezed it, it was peanut butter. She heard the door creak but reached for her liquid soap and there was ketchup inside. Lila turned off the water and stepped out into some white goop covering the floor. Yeah she screamed and Rose came running into the room looking at the silly string covering the floor.

Three people stood outside the bathroom door laughing. “That was good Mar’i but what did you need the pepper for?” Jon asked holding the empty spice container. “Wait until they turn the light on, the fan will sprinkle pepper in the air and they’ll sneeze like crazy.”

Sure enough ten seconds later the sounds of sneezes filled the room and the two girls ran out of the room and Jon and the two ninjas hid in the shadows. “This is only the beginning right?” Mar’I asked wanting to pull more pranks.

“Not even close,” Damian said staring after Lila.

Everyone went down for breakfast and Mar’i knew the plan, she screamed making everyone look over at her while Jon, at super speed, poured pickle juice on Lila’s eggs. She took a bite before spitting them out onto her plate.

“Something wrong with your eggs?” Jon asked fake concerned tilting his head.

“No not at all,” Lila said at the look of Alfred behind Jon worried. Everyone turned back to their meals and Jon’s phone went off.

I see what you’re doing and I want in -Adrien

I’ll have to ask Damian and Mar’i

Jon added the number to his phone adding a red heart by the name and tucking it back into his pocket. Jon thought about what would happen if Adrien started helping them and he really didn’t want to lose the bet him and Damian made.

Damian sat half awake watching Kung Fu Panda with Mar’i sleeping on his shoulder and Jon lying across his lap.

“I’ll make you a bet Dami, if you kiss Marinette before I kiss Adrien, again, then you have to put a glitter bomb in Jason’s hood,” Jon said smiling.

“If I win you put holes in Drake’s uniform,” Damian said and they shook hands.

“Prepare to lose birdbrain,” Jon said smiling.

“You wish corncob.”

”Jon!” Damian yelled pulling his hand back to slap him but Jon caught it.

“What?” Jon asked nervously.

“Mar’i just set up the wax paper and rubber bear trap,” Damian said tapping into the cameras from his phone watching as Lila stepped into the trap hopping around the room sitting on her bed falling into wax paper not being able to get up. The two started walking to Mar’i’s room but ran into Adrien on the way there.

“I know you guys are pranking Lila and I want to be a part of it,” Adrien said and Damian’s eyes lit up at possibly winning the bet.

“Sure, we're going to Grayson Jr.’s room,” Damian said leading the way.

Mar’i was laughing in her room at the camera footage. “This is sooooooo good guys!” Mar’i laughed. “Oh hey, you’re that model guy right?” Mar’i asked smiling.

“Yeah, I’m Adrien.” Adrien shook her hand and Mar’i squeezed it a little too tight.

“Hurt Jon and I hurt you, got it?” Mar’i asked smiling.

“Got it,” he said and she let go of his hand.

“We got a runner,” Jon said pointing to the screen. They followed her on the cameras to a living room with Bruce talking to a few students with Miss. Bustier.

“Oh my Lila, what happened?” the teacher asked concerned.

“It must have been Marinette, she still hates me after I always try and be her friend,” Lila cried. Jon, Damian, Mar’i and Adrien ran down to the living room.

“You should stay out here, I don’t want you to get in trouble for something we did,” Jon said with a hand in Adrien’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t fake cry, no one will know if it’s real or not after you try so many times,” Bruce said going to sit back down in his chair. “Marinette has nothing to do with these pranks, this is Mar’i’s doing, I am familiar with her pranks and the bear trap wax had been done before on me, raw eggs on Tim, bottle switches with Jason. She gets help from Jon and Damian,” Bruce said still unamused.

Lila walked out of the room seeing the three culprits.

“You better watch your back,” Mar’i said and Lila scoffed.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said walking away and Jon ran up behind her at super speed breathing down her neck.

“You should be.”

...............................................

JPS:  @wannajointhecrabcult @loveswifi @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @liquid-luck-00 @mochegato@thatonecroc@mochinek0 @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonspiritwolf1 @ranger-gothamite @crystalangelluna @professionalfangirl1738

Tag list:  @abrx2002@finallyaniguana@danielslilangel@chocolateherringtacofan@animegirlweeb @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj@pawsitivelymiraculous@justcourttee@ayamestudios@greenteacz@thornalchemist23@vixen-uchiha@readeracctagmepls @tomanyfandomsinmymind @t1dwarrior-of-earth@michaelshadow7779 @i-is-mysterious

#marinette dupain cheng #maribat #chloe and marinette #damian x marinette #Jon Kent #JON PROTECTION SQUAD #jon x adrien #adrien agreste #Damian Wayne #jon and damian #mar'i x kagami #mar'i grayson #miraculous ladybug #lila salt #lila rossi

[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 6 on AO3

______________________

Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all.

________________________

Normalcy.

Tim doesn’t quite know what that concept entails. Once, it meant taking care of himself in a big house, making sure no one knew how much time he actually spent alone. Another time, it meant solving problems, training hard and answering questions, juggling a double life. Then, leading a team of people who trusted him and whom he failed time and time again. Finally, for a brief period of time, normalcy was running against time to solve an impossible puzzle and being a triple agent.

And now… now he isn’t sure anymore.

It’s a sunny Saturday morning when he wakes up and squints at the window. He wonders how beaten he must’ve been to forget to close the blinds. He scratches his belly and sniffles because less than a few hours ago Ivy freaking bombed a warehouse with allergenic pollen, which was really uncool of her. She didn’t even bother to give them a heads up. She did apologize and gave them an antidote before they parted ways, but… still. Tim wonders if it was less effective on him because… you know.

He lifts his shirt enough to check on the scar. It’s healing well, in spite of everything. He doesn’t bother changing out of his sleeping clothes before going upstairs. Judging by the sun outside, it can’t be later than 11 am, which means…

Ah, yes. Just like he expected: normalcy now means getting out of bed late in the weekend and being greeted by the strong scent of tea, because Jason is a heathen. When Tim stumbles his way to the kitchen, he finds the now familiar sight of Jason in his favorite green hoodie, a mug of tea in his hand, and his nose buried in a heavy looking novel.

“Morning,” Tim mumbles, already searching the cabinets for coffee.

“Food,” Jason orders in lieu of a greeting.

Tim mouths the word food while pulling a face, but obediently grabs a piece of toast from the table. Bickering with Jason over mundane things is part of his routine now, but there are certain things the older boy is absolutely inflexible about. Part of normalcy now means knowing Jason will leave food for Tim and fighting him on whether he wants to eat is pointless. Tim bites into the toast as he prepares his coffee.

“Ivy’s thing worked for you?” Jason asks without raising his gaze from his book.

“Hm-hum,” Tim nods. He’s still sniffling, but it’s true that he felt instantaneous relief when he swallowed the antidote last night. “You good too?”

“Yeah. Still, I can’t believe you just took it when she handed it to you,” Jason puts down his book and glares at Tim.

Tim sits on the counter and shrugs. “If she wanted to kill us, she could’ve left us coughing our lungs out like the rest of the guys in the warehouse.”

“You have trust issues in the most fucked up way, kid.”

“Hey, I happen to trust people who deserve trust,” Tim protests. “It’s not like I would take something from the Penguin. Ivy is pretty chill if you’re not littering or dumping waste in rivers.”

“You have a crush on her or something?” Jason teases.

Tim rolls his eyes but focuses on chewing his toast rather than giving him an answer. Jason takes that as he wants, and snickers, like the idiot he is.

This is normalcy now. Having breakfast in the old kitchen and talking about mundane crap - or at least mundane for them - and it feels… Odd. Tim can’t quite explain it. It isn’t like eating alone in Drake manor. It isn’t like making a mess in Titans Tower - the closest place he ever had to a home - because even there he felt like he had to set an example somehow, to keep everyone in check. It isn’t like awkwardly joining Alfred in the morning, still feeling like Bruce only thought he had to adopt him considering the circumstances.

All in all, this new normalcy doesn’t feel like any Tim had felt before. He doesn’t dislike it.

“I’m probably going to finish the adjustments to your computer system today,” Tim informs him. “I can’t believe we’re finally leaving the stone age.”

“Shut up,” Jason tosses another piece of toast at him. “Also you can stop calling it mine. I hate it and I don’t know how to use it after everything you did to it. The computer is all yours.”

Tim catches the toast and grins around his first bite. “Ooh, look at me, I’m Red Hood, I’m tough and scary, but technology is cursed, Alan Turing was a witch-”

Jason stands. Tim is sure he’s about to either mess up his hair or put Tim in a headlock until he begs for forgiveness, even though he can see the hint of a smile twisting Jason’s lips upwards. Before a wrestling match starts, however, Jason freezes.

“Do you hear that?” he whispers.

Tim listens. He can hear nothing other than distant sirens. Burnley isn’t one of the worst districts in Gotham, but they’re too close to Crime Alley. These streets don’t get a lot of traffic. Not this early in the day, anyway.

Rather than explaining himself, Jason visibly shifts into Red Hood: his shoulders square up and he sets his jaw in a challenging scowl.

“Someone just parked on our driveway.”

Tim’s eyes widen. Could it be that they’ve been found out already? He made sure that the henchmen they got were too distracted by Ivy to notice them, but perhaps he had missed something. Part of him wants to go upstairs and grab his staff - even if that would be a stupid thing to do because he can’t exactly fight Dick into forgetting he lied to him.

Tim follows Jason to the entrance as he is, in his stupid oversized Superboy sweater and with toast crumbles all over his pants. He hadn’t even had his coffee. He peeks through the boards on the window and his stomach drops.

“It isn’t Dick,” he says. “It’s worse.”

Jason reads the worry in Tim’s eyes and lets out a curse. Technically, all the doors to the house are sealed. The only entrance is a block away and it leads to the basement/Red Hood bunker. Jason, however, seems to forget that and grabs the door handle angrily. Tim cringes when he hears the sound of frail wood being ripped because it means Jason’s strength is out of control - which means he’s getting near pit rage.

“How the fuck did you find us?” he barks from the porch.

Barbara Gordon is still adjusting herself in her wheelchair. The icy glare she gives Jason shows that she isn’t impressed by his fury.

Foreseeing disaster, Tim rushes out to put himself between Jason and Barbara. “It’s fine, let me talk to her!”

Jason glares at him. Although there’s a prominent vein pulsing on his brow and there’s definitely a hint of green in his eyes, he grits his teeth and stops. Tim sighs in relief before turning to Babs:

“Damian saw us, didn’t he?” he asks.

“What the hell does the brat have to do with this?” Jason hisses.

“Logic,” Tim shrugs. “I’ve been taking care of our digital trail. If Babs knows about us, it means one of the heroes under her watch saw us. Cass is in Hong Kong. Steph and Dick would’ve confronted us right away. The only option left is Damian.”

Jason groans and his eyes have mostly returned to their usual shade of brown. Tim had somehow annoyed him into calming down, which is a skill he’s getting better at every day. Tim smiles a little.

“Well,” Barbara says, her voice sharp. “You thought no one was going to notice two extra vigilantes running around?”

“Not forever, no,” Tim admits, trying to sound apologetic. "We wanted to be left on our own for as long as we could, though. We don’t need external interference.”

At that, Barbara looks scandalized. “Absolutely wrong. Get me a freaking ramp or get down here, Timothy, I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”

Jason lets out an annoyed huff, to which Tim glares at him. He has no business getting mad at Barbara for threatening them when he promises to beat Tim up at least three times a day. Five, if it’s not a school day.

“Why don’t we postpone the violence,” Tim suggests, his eyes not leaving Jason’s, “and just… have a chat? Inside? Jason just made tea.”

An annoyed grunt is all the response Jason gives him before making his way back inside.  He doesn’t slam the door behind him, which is as good as a yes. Tim rolls his eyes before climbing down the steps to help Barbara up the porch.

“By the way, how did you find our address?” he asks.

“Tim, please,” she huffs. “After I saw the footage from Damian’s bodycam, all I had to do was track your online footprint. You think I couldn���t notice the upgrades you’ve been making?”

That’s fair, and Tim should’ve predicted that possibility. Granted, if no one had seen them, Barbara wouldn’t know there was something to track.

He pushes her wheelchair to the living room where Jason is waiting for them. The older boy is sitting on their crappy couch with his knees spread out and his fingers steepled. It would’ve been an impressive crime lord pose to welcome someone if his green hoodie wasn’t sprinkled with toast crumbs.

Not that Barbara is that easy to intimidate.

“So what the hell happened?” She demands. “You left that night and went to meet the guy that almost killed you and two of your brothers?”

That stings. Barbara wasn’t there that night. Tim wonders if things would’ve been any different if she had been. Would she have listened to his theory or just called him crazy as Dick and Cassie had?

Well. All in all, he knew Barbara would always be there for Dick first. He never blamed her for that, because her partnership with Dick was far deeper than any impact Tim could’ve made in her life. He takes a seat by Jason’s side, farther from her.

“Damian also tried to kill me,” Tim reminds her. “And Dick fired me right after Jason offered me a job. Between the attempted murder and no job, and the same but with a gig...”

She takes off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“That freaking idiot,” she mutters to herself. Then, raising her gaze to meet Tim’s: “He didn’t mean to fire you.”

Tim clenches his teeth. “It sure seemed like it when I woke up and saw Damian wearing my old costume,” he snaps.

He feels Jason whipping his head towards him, and he curses himself. He had never revealed the gritty details of his dismissal for a reason. He reminds himself that Dick gave him Robin and it was his right to take it away, he has no reason to be this angry. That only serves to make him more bitter, though.

“I’m not saying Dick wasn’t stupid,” Barbara continues, her brow furrowing. “I already had some words with him about it. It doesn’t mean it was okay for you to just vanish for months, Tim. And then you’re back and you don’t talk to anyone. Not even Steph? Me?”

“Oh, fuck right off,” Jason snaps.

Barbara goes stiff. Tim groans, because now he has to push his anger further away to be able to stop the two of them. Before he can say anything, Jason continues:

“You’re talking as if I fucking kidnapped him. You know damn well how capable he is,” he barks. “The kid made a choice. I swear to fuck, everyone‘s a critic…”

Barbara opens her mouth but closes it again without saying anything. She presses her lips into a tight line. It isn’t often you see Oracle at a loss for words. For the first time, she looks at Jason without any animosity, her thoughts bare in her eyes. Unlike the boys, Barbara doesn’t play games. She doesn’t hide her emotions on purpose. The longing in her eyes is almost palpable, as though she’s seeing a dear relative she lost a long time ago, and she can’t reach them.

“What are you two thinking?” She asks. “What are you doing?”

“What we do best,” Tim says simply. “Vigilante work.”

“You told Dick you retired,” Barbara points out. “Then you ghosted him. He keeps waiting for you to come back.”

“He likes to do that,” Jason says. Now his voice is barely a whisper. “He says he’ll be there if you need him. Who says we need him, though?”

Barbara hesitates. “I told… Never mind. Just… I’m glad you’re back, Tim. And I’m glad you’re not dead again, Jason.”

Tim smiles. Jason looks like he wants to glance around to make sure she’s not talking to someone else. When it becomes clear she isn’t, he somehow looks even more uncomfortable.

“So,” he starts. “What now?”

“We fight for Tim’s custody, obviously,” Barbara smiles.

The peaceful moment ends when Tim and Jason start protesting out loud over one another. Barbara giggles at the cacophony of half-words, something along the lines of fuck off, not a child get your own damn kid responsible for myself-

“I’m joking!” She shouts to be heard over their complaints. “Jesus, you boys get riled up so easily.”

“I’m not a boy,” Tim and Jason say at the same time.

They glare at each other. Barbara rolls her eyes.

“Now,” she continues as though they didn’t interrupt her, “let me see your work, Tim. I’m going to give you guys a free upgrade.”

“Like hell you are,” Jason says. “How do we know you’re not spying on us for Dick?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Funny. I thought you two were fighting rogues, not Batman. Why would Dick want to spy on you?”

“Because he’s a meddler and he doesn’t trust me,” Jason states as though it’s a fact.

“To be fair, you did try to kill Tim. And Damian. And Dick,” she retorts. Before Jason can say anything back, she raises a hand to ask for patience. “It doesn’t matter to me, though. Barbara Gordon is Dick Grayson’s best friend and partner. Oracle, however, is an ally to anyone trying to protect Gotham. I’ll help you two like I help Batman, the Birds of Prey, and even Batgirl.”

Jason frowns. “I thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong.”

“Well,” Tim scratches his own nape, feeling suddenly guilty. “Actually… there might be a new Batgirl in town.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it!” Tim says. “I swear it just slipped my mind with everything else I had to report!”

Jason looks like he wants to grab a cushion and smother Tim to death. Before he can do as much, Barbara clears her throat loudly and says:

“Anyway… Support. I don’t talk about the vigilantes under my watch. Not to Batgirl. Not to Batman.”

Jason crosses his arms and leans back against the couch, his brow furrowed. Tim fights the urge to pat away the crumbs from his hoodie and waits patiently. Technically, this is Jason’s operation and he’s the one calling the shots. Tim has his own opinions, but in the end, a sidekick is supposed to follow orders.

Then Jason turns to Tim. “Replacement?”

He… does he want Tim’s opinion?

“I trust Barbara,” Tim says without hesitation. “And having Oracle’s help is going to be a game-changer.”

Jason considers that for a moment. It’s clear that he isn’t happy about the conclusions he’s drawing but, in the end, he sighs in defeat.

“Fine,” Jason says. “But if you tattle about what we’re doing, you’re gonna regret it.”

“Why, gee, Jason, how kind of you to allow me to help you guys,” Barbara snaps.

The two of them start bickering, but Tim tunes them out for a moment. It isn’t like Bruce and Dick never asked him for his opinion. They did. A lot. He simply hadn’t expected Jason to do the same. And so openly too. Bruce liked to pretend Tim’s input was but a piece to a puzzle he was assembling by himself. It seems like Jason isn’t above taking Tim’s words at face value and explicitly showing that he was part of the decision making.

It’s… nice. Not quite like being a sidekick, but not like having a whole team depending on him alone. Tim decides he likes this.

“Alright, alright, enough,” he says, standing up. “Come on, Babs, let me show you our office. Do you want some tea?”

“Anything but Earl Grey,” she says, allowing Tim to push her wheelchair towards the kitchen. “Don’t tell Alfred.”

“Wha… Does that make me the cook?” Jason complains.

Tim gives him a pointed look. “Do you wanna help her with the computer instead?”

Jason starts grumbling and cursing under his breath, but he still starts looking for something in the cupboards.

Unlike the Batcave, the secret entrance to the basement isn’t very fancy: just a couple of tiles that can be removed and a ladder. Tim helps Barbara out of her chair and she climbs down on her own. He has to admire her core strength. A little juggling with the folded chair later, he joins her and helps her to the seat again.

As soon as she’s comfortable, rather than rolling straight to the computer, she wraps her arms around Tim a little tighter. Surprised, but not much, he hugs her back.

“I missed you,” she whispers. “I’m so, so glad you’re back.”

Tim squeezes her. He always loved Barbara’s hugs. He doesn’t say anything, though, because he doesn’t think he can. There’s a knot in his throat stopping any sound from coming out. He tightens the embrace a little more and hopes she knows what he means without him needing to say anything.

Barbara pulls back first, her expression somber. “Jason looks better.”

“He is,” Tim assures.

“Still… I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” Tim says and there’s not a hint of doubt in his voice. “I… I guess I understand why he did what he did. And Jason is a hero too, Babs. I didn’t forget that, even if some of you did.”

She presses her lips into a tight line and at first, Tim thinks it’s due to the implied accusation. Then something clicks, and he thinks it must’ve been because he referred to the Batfamily as ‘some of you’. For a while, he refused to think of himself as an outsider - he was Timothy Wayne after all - but, at some point, it seems like he started accepting he might not be one of them anymore. It still stings.

However, he also realizes he can live with that. Maybe it’s because of how easy it’d been to get used to Jason, to this new normalcy that feels truly normal after so little time. Tim may have left, but it isn’t Red Robin and them. It’s us and them. And, if everything goes according to his plans, they’re soon going to be at least on the same side.

For now, it’s enough.

There was a time in Tim’s life when he didn’t mind making small talk. His mother drilled into his head that he was supposed to be pleasant and polite and that there’d be consequences if he embarrassed his father in front of his associates. Timothy could lose a whole week of his allowance for chewing with his mouth open during a business dinner. It was more about the inconvenience of being scolded than the punishment, really, but Tim learned pretty fast that being sociable and polite was easier.

It’s been a long time, though. Tim’s lost his touch. Or so it feels when he’s unable to shake off one of his annoying classmates.

“...and then you could totally join us this weekend for the tennis tournament,” she says.

Tim refrains from sighing. He thought all of his classmates had been warned not to mingle with that Drake kid. Even if he was Bruce Wayne’s newest charity case, he slept through most of the classes and talked back to the teachers. Unfortunately, Laney Gonzalez didn’t get the memo.

“I don’t think I should,” Tim says tiredly. “I’m not great at any sports, really.”

“Pff, like I’d believe you!” Laney chuckles and latches onto his arm, squeezing his biceps. “You think we can’t tell how muscular you are under this hideous uniform?”

For fuck’s sake. “No, really,” he tries again, gently prying his arm away with an awkward chuckle. “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

Go to school, Tim, Jason said. You need an education, Tim. Why doesn’t Jason get an education? Then he could hang back after class, even though there are better things to do because Laney freaking Gonzalez decided it was a good idea to make friends with the weird kid. Tim’s attempts to reach the gates seem to go unnoticed by the girl.

“Come on, Tim,” she insists. “You never join us when we do class stuff. It’ll be fun. You don’t have to play or anything, just… hang out a bit?”

What is a polite way to say I’d rather get into a fistfight with Killer Croc , Tim wonders?

He’s about to make up a family emergency - is she going to notice that his phone didn’t buzz at all? - when he notices a small commotion near the exit. A group of students is eyeing the street curiously, and even the ones leaving are taking another glance at… something. Worried, he lets Laney’s speech about friendships in high school fly over his head, and he moves a bit faster. If something big happened while he was in history class, he’s going to freaking kill…

Jason.

Tim stops dead on his tracks because the thing his fellow schoolmates keep glancing at is none other than Jason Todd himself in all of his glory. He’s leaning against the biggest motorcycle Tim had ever seen and wearing his favorite black leather jacket. Tim is already considering the fastest way to kill himself even before Jason’s face splits into a wicked grin and he opens his arms.

“Timbers! Fancy seeing you here!” He says, no , shouts.

Kids in and out of the schoolyard follow Jason’s gaze and find Tim burying his face in his hands.

“Uh…” Laney is now keeping her distance for once. “You know him?”

Tim is already stomping towards Jason.

“What are you doing here?” He hisses.

Still smiling, Jason hands him a yellow helmet. “Picking you up. Not happy to see me?”

“What if Dick sees you?” Tim protests.

Behind him, someone gasps. Tim turns around and curses when he realizes Laney followed him and thought it was okay to listen to a private conversation.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I should’ve noticed it! For the record, I wasn’t hitting on you, if that’s why you kept refusing. I really just want to be friends.”

Jason looks vaguely amused.

Tim frowns. “What?”

“That’s your boyfriend, I assume?”

“No!” Tim hears himself shouting. “He’s my brother!”

Laney has dark skin, but Tim still notices the way her cheeks go a shade darker. “Oh gosh, is that right? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you had any brothers other than Dick and Damian!”

Tim wants to die so bad.

“Actually,” Jason says, voice soft, dropping an arm around Tim’s shoulders, “I’m a bit of a family secret, so don’t go tweeting Vicki Vale about it, will you? We’ll know if you babble.”

Scratch that. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to kill Jason.

Laney nods hurriedly and makes a hushed promise to keep the secret. She mumbles something about texting Tim later - Tim is sure that she doesn’t have his number - and half-jogs away from them, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Well, that takes care of that. Laney Gonzalez is probably never going to speak to him again.

He turns around and punches Jason’s arm. “What the fuck was that?”

“I have a lead on that case from last night,” Jason hops on the bike. “Get on, loser, we’re going crime fighting.”

“We had a plan. You think Dick won’t notice you’re picking me up from school?” Tim complains. He’s already climbing the bike behind Jason, though.

“Tim, what did I tell you about plans again?”

Tim sighs as he puts the helmet on. He rests his forehead against Jason’s back as though he doesn’t even have the strength to sit up straight anymore. Make a plan. The plan goes wrong. Throw it away.

“Besides, Barbara knows. The Gremlin knows. It’s just a matter of time before we have Bitchard and Brat Girl on our asses.”

He starts the bike before Tim is ready, but Tim makes a point of looping his arms around his waist and swallowing a startled yelp when they go from zero to very fast.

It isn’t until they’re several blocks away from Gotham Academy that Tim fully understands what he’d just done. He told a random classmate he had an extra brother. He told her Jason was his brother. He briefly considers letting go of Jason’s waist and letting himself fall into the asphalt.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. “I’m sorry.”

Jason eyes back briefly before turning his attention back to the street. Between the helmet and the speed, Tim didn’t catch even a glance of his expression, but he can picture it just fine. It’s been barely three weeks since they started living together, but this is normal for him now. He knows Jason’s mildly intrigued face just as well as his own.

“For what?” Jason asks.

“For saying you’re my brother. I panicked.”

Again, he remembers the early days at Wayne manor. Bruce had sworn off adoptions and Tim could only stay after he promised that wouldn’t be an issue.  Hell, Tim tried to keep his word even after his dad died, and yet…

Jason mumbles something that gets lost over the wind.

“What?”

“I said whatever, man!” Jason snaps. “I don’t think adoption expires after death. Technically we are brothers.”

Tim doesn’t say anything. He should know better than to keep making the same mistake.

But isn’t going after Jason a recurrent mistake in itself anyway?

“It’s better like this, to be honest,” Jason says. “It’d be weird to be living with a random minor, I guess.”

It’s basically an automatic response at this point: “You’re two years older than me.”

“I’m legally an adult. You’re not,” Jason reminds him.

“You’re legally dead, actually,” Tim points.

Jason barks out a burst of laughter. “Look at you, Timmy, saying such mean things. Am I a bad influence on you?”

“Now, that tone is creepy. Drop it or I’ll make us crash. You know I have no regard for my own safety.”

Tim is definitely doing that talking without thinking thing again.

“Ugh, don’t I know it,” Jason groans. “Should’ve considered that before taking a fucking kamikaze as my partner.”

Tim perks up. “Hey…!”

“You’re not allowed to name yourself Kamikaze,” Jason cuts him off. “First, that would probably be racist, and second, because you’re not naming yourself after suicidal pilots. You chose Red Robin. No takesie backsies.”

“Fine, mom,” Tim pouts.

Jason speeds up and Tim takes that as his cue to pretend the purr of the engine is too loud for them to talk.

For once in his life, Tim decides to really throw the plan away and see where this goes. This is just his new routine and Tim is nothing if not adaptable.

The case should be simple enough: someone had destroyed an underground casino and killed the bosses responsible for keeping the place running. All of the workers had been spared. They would consider it an everyday case if the same thing hadn’t happened again somewhere near the Narrows. The two places didn’t have anything in common other than the business they ran - gambling, prostitution… the works.

Tim spent hours thinking of a personal motive and so far he had discarded personal vendetta and random coincidence. The methods didn’t match one of the rogues they knew and, although he didn’t say it out loud, Tim feared they had another Red Hood like vigilante in their hands.

When Red Hood and Red Robin come out that night, they’re following one of Hood’s hunches.

“I still think I could’ve done this alone,” Red mumbles.

“I still think I could’ve done this alone,” Hood mocks in a high-pitched voice.

Red Robin glares at him and, even in the dirty dark alley, Hood doesn’t miss it. He sighs.

“Do you trust Oracle or not?” He sighs.

“Of course I do,” the boy mumbles. “Still, it would be more efficient…”

“To split up and have each of us cover a place. We’ve been over this. Oracle said she’d make sure the other place is closed for the night. If I’m right - and I usually am - our guy is gonna attack here.”

Red rolls his eyes but decides not to argue any further. He’s pretty sure this is punishment for forcing Hood to accept Oracle’s help, by keeping him close and refusing to let him do part of the job alone. Alas. Let Hood be petty for now. He’ll learn soon enough that having Oracle backing you up is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

However, now that he thinks about it, Red Robin hasn’t done anything big alone since his debut. Patrolling and stopping random muggins is one thing, but the attack on Black Mask’s warehouses? The bust of the big drug traffic operation at the harbor? This odd murder case? In all of these high profile cases, Hood demanded that he and Red Robin attacked together.

He makes a mental note to think about the possible meaning of that later. Right now he has to focus on finding suspicious activity, which is surprisingly hard. Once they’re at the strategic point Red Robin picked and getting set for the stakeout, Hood seems to have similar thoughts, because he comments:

“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, huh?”

Red sighs. “We’re not breaking into their office. We can’t risk spooking the murderer.”

The older boy shrugs and they settle down to wait.

This is a part of the job Red Robin was oddly fond of. There’s something about just sitting on a roof and waiting that is calming to him. He loved the adventure and solving mysteries and fighting bad guys and the thrill. That being said, there was something satisfying about taking your time and waiting to act. Just them too high up to be seen, the only witnesses being the cold night air and the certainty that they’re doing something good and saving innocents.

Tim wondered if it was fucked up of him to love this so much. He’s been in contact with the ugliest parts of humanity since he was a little boy, after all. After Cissie retired, he thought about it a lot. Like Cissie, he didn’t have special powers. He was just another boy that got himself into a crazy situation. Why couldn’t he be just another civilian, unaware of Gotham’s nightlife? Enjoy school, as Jason wanted him to? Live a long life, maybe die of old age?

Tim likes to think that the fact that he loves this so much means that he was made for this life.

“What do you think we’re facing tonight?” He asks.

Red Hood starts talking and Red Robin listens to him. Unlike Tim, Jason is all about instinct and passion. Whereas Tim collects clues and puts together theories, Jason understands the reasoning behind them and comes up with hunches that Tim couldn’t dream of. Red Robin loves to hear his hypothesis because it’s almost like having a book read out loud to you, and an enjoyable one at that.

He’s almost satisfied, all things considered.

Hood suddenly stops talking. As fast as lightning, he reaches into his holster and, before Red Robin even thinks of stopping him, Red Hood stands and points his gun at something - no, someone - right behind them. He pulls the trigger.

Red Robin opens his mouth in horror, but, rather than a lifeless body dropping to the ground he watches the invader dodge the bullet as though it’s nothing, almost gracefully. He reaches for his staff, but the invader is already running towards them again and Hood is getting about to take another shot. The invader’s cape flies behind them, dropping from their head and revealing... a familiar face.

Hood’s finger is already on the trigger and Red realizes this time she’ll have no time to dodge. Without thinking twice, he jumps between Red Hood and the woman.

“ TIMOTHY !” Hood barks, pointing the gun upwards.

“I know her!” Red Robin shouts at one of them. Maybe at both of them. “I know her! She’s my friend!”

The woman’s stopped as well. She’s looking at them with her head tilted to the side. Without minding Hood behind him, Red Robin faces her and takes in her appearance. She’s still bald. Still rocking all the scars - maybe she even has new ones? - and she’s still dressed like a grunge-rock singer from the late 90’s. He’d recognize her anywhere.

“Pru?” He confirms. “Prudence Wood?”

Her shoulders relax when she hears his voice. She reaches for something in her pocket - Hood gets tense again behind him - but all she grabs is a piece of paper. It’s crumpled and a bit dirty, as though she’s been walking around with it in her pocket for a while.

Without hesitation, Red takes it from her unresisting fingers and reads the words someone - presumably Pru herself - had hurriedly scribbled:

I knew this would get your attention, the paper says, I’m here to warn you. The Head of the Demon is coming after you.

And, just like that, Tim’s frail normalcy is gone.

#poteto writing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #red bros #batfam #ay yo i'm back on my bullshit