#Jason won't let Tim get in trouble over this and he's not going to let Dani feel guilty for bringing him in this shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

too-much-tma-stuff · 1 month

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Finally Getting Help (prt. 10)

Mastterpost

A/N: Thank you all for the well wishes about my dog. Unfortunately he didn't make it and pass away Tuesday morning in the vet's office. I was able to get some writing done but I don't have the energy to edit. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

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Jason: hey, thanks for the gun and the tech, it's really cool.

Danny: new phone who dis 😝

Jason: I hope you haven't given too many people guns in the last couple days.

Danny: no I haven't, thanks for texting me Jason. Have you got a chance to try the gun?

Jason: not on anything moving, I've been doing some target practice to get a feel for it though. Looking forward to when I can test it on Vlad.

Danny: aww are you going to avenge my honor 🥺

Jason: if you want me too. I'll bring you his head if you want me too.

Danny: 🥰 you're so sweet. I wouldn't say no to seeing him suffer for what he's done but don't get yourself in any trouble okay? And if you do call me right away. I'll come rescue you 😘

Jason: hey I'm the one offering to protect you!

Danny: we can protect each other. And fight each other, can you come spar again soon?

Jason: I wouldn't call that sparring, more like brawling.

Danny: eh potato potato, do you want to come fight me again?

Jason: if demon brat won't kill me for it, sure. Can I take you out for dinner afterwards? I have some questions

Danny: It's a date! Just tell me when

Jason: Day after tomorrow? I have some work to take care of first.

Danny: Sounds great! And it is a date right? You don't mind that I'm going to have kids?

Jason: the kids aren't a deal breaker I promise but let's not jump the gun okay? We're going to be family through B so we don't want this to blow up in our faces. Let's hang out, take it slow, see how it goes. You need to be careful about who you let into your life now anyway, you can't just let anyone around you and the babies.

Danny: don't tell me what to do 😠 but you're right. I'm bad about rushing into things. I'm still looking forward to it.

Danny: By the way Jazz uploaded the power point she made about Liminals and Ghosts to the bat’s server thing. You have access to that right? You should read that before we meet and I can fill in the gaps.

Jason: Sounds good, I’ll have a look at it and I’m looking forward to it too. I'll be there at 5 so we can spar before dinner. Don't forget to warn B and your guard dog.

Danny: Damian is a good kid. I'll let them know.

Danny stared at his new phone Tim had given him with apprehension. The chat with Jason had gone very well, and Danny was glad he reached out but there were other people he really needed to reach out to and he was… frankly scared. Sam and Tucker were his best friends and had always been there for him but they both had tempers. Would they be mad that he hadn’t told them he was pregnant? Would they be upset he had left Amity and wasn’t planning on coming back?

He needed to reach out though, the longer he waited the harder it would be to talk to them, and things wouldn’t stay calm as they were now. Vlad would be back to cause trouble again and even though the JLD had control of the portal but he was sure his rogues would find their way through eventually. Vlad had his own portal anyway, and Danny wouldn’t put it past him to open it just to annoy Danny. Maybe try and weaken him a little so Vlad could swoop in and pick him off.

Today was quiet, he needed to take this chance. He sighed and got up off the edge of his bed where he was sitting and ducked out of his room. He didn’t want to do this alone, so he wasn’t surprised when he found himself in the library where Jazz was studying.

He sat down across from her and reached across, laying his hand, palm up on the table. Without looking up from her book she reached over and placed her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at her and took a deep breath before putting on his earbuds and sending a message in the group chat.

Danny: When you guys are ready can we call?

Jazz phone went off too and she checked it, smiled at Danny, and then silenced the chat and went back to her book. She didn’t need to be part of this call but at least she knew what he was doing.

Sam: Yes, let me just grab Tuck. He’s playing Doomed.

Danny took a deep breath and put down his phone while he waited for them to call and tried not to panic.

When the phone buzzed he jumped and reached for it, joining the call quickly.

“Hey guys,” He said, awkwardly, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.

“Hey yourself! What the heck happened Danny?! Basically the whole town joined in in chasing Vlad when we found out what he did but why did we have to find out on tv?! Why didn’t you tell us?!” Sam said, but at least she just seemed stressed, not actually angry.

“I’m sorry guys,” Danny said, wincing a little when he heard Tucker sniffling a little. “I hadn’t told anyone yet. I hadn’t even fully accepted it yet honestly.

“I still wasn’t ready to talk about it, bur Cass is really good at reading people's body language and I guess she clocked that I was carrying them by how I kept unconsciously touching my stomach. When she asked me about it it sorta broke through my denial and I broke down which started the ball rolling on… all this,” He said with a vague gesture.”

“All this is right!The justice league really brought the hammer down on Amity. They’re dismantling the GIW and really pissed at the government and basically all the adults in the town for letting this happen. And they arrested your parents!” Sam said sounding almost excited.

“Sam! That was really insensitive! They’re still his parents, what if he didn’t know!?” Tucker broke in furiously.

“No it’s alright I knew, Jazz told me. She’s here with me,” He said squeezing her hand though she wasn’t paying attention to the call.

“Okaaay so where is Here?” Tucker asked warily.

“Ya are you safe? We haven’t seen you since all this went down! Are you really with Bruce Wayne?” Sam asked sounding wary.

“Yes I am. He’s got a foster license and since his kids were the one that found out what was going on it just made sense that I’d stay here.”

“And he’s Not another Fruitloop?” Sam asked warily. “You need to be careful with these rich people you know? They’re basically all crazy!”

“Sam you’re rich,” Danny pointed out, amused.

“Ya, and? My point stands!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughed. “But no, I did some snooping the first night I was here and it seems okay. And since he’s got close ties to the Justice League he was able to get the help we really needed, and he says he might be able to help me meet Martian Manhunter!”

“Don’t fanboy out too bad,” Tucker teased him.

“Oh ya? And what if I helped you meet Tim Drake? Would you not be just as bad,” Danny accused Tucker.

“Touche,” Tucker said. “Could you though?”

“I mean maybe? He’s my foster brother now and he seems cool. You two are my best friends, if I’m going to stay I’m sure you could come visit me and meet all of them.”

“Are you really going to stay there though? I mean once the GIW and everything is cleared out you could stay with either of us. I know my parents aren’t your biggest fans but I know they’d let you stay,” Sam said sounding worried.

“And I know my family doesn't have a ton of money but they adore you, we’d make it work,” Tucker added looking worried.

“No, guys I really appreciate the offer but… I don’t want to come back to Amity. The Justice League said they shut down the portal and I really need a fresh start I think. I think I’d rather stay here. Jazz too, she’s gonna study at Gotham U and intern at Arkham,” He said. She looked up at the mention of her name and gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, you guys are my best friends and I’ll miss you, but there are too many… memories in Amity you know?”

“Ya I get that,” Sam said, looking sad and distant.

“We can still call, and play Doomed together, and visit on breaks!” Tucker said, his chipper tone sounding a little forced. “We’re going to say friends!” He insisted and Danny smiled.

“Of course we will Tuck,” He promised. They might grow apart with the distance between them, but he hoped not, they really were his best friends.

“Ya, my parents will probably be thrilled about this development and want me to come over all the time. They love the Waynes,” Sam chuckled though her optimism also seemed a bit forced. Of course she was more of a pessimist, she probably thought they would drift apart, but knew Danny needed them right now.

“Soo what’s been going on in Amity since I left?” Danny asked, letting them ramble about the drama, the rumours, and the bullshit that was the bullies and everyone in the school sudden;y pretending they cared about Danny soooo much.

After they finished telling him about it there were a few beats of silence and Danny was just about to suggest they hang up when Sam spoke up again.

“So, what actually happened with Vlad? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay but…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not what- what you’d think. It’s superhero bullshit really. When I wouldn’t be his son he decided to try and clone me, you met Dani with an I right? She was one of the clones. But he didn’t know I was trans, and my DNA got all fucked up in the portal so none of the clones were stable. I have no idea how many he tried to make that died. But when I found out it was because he had lied to Dani and told her he needed me to stabilize her clone brothers. It was a batch of ten.

“But he lied, he didn’t actually care about stabilizing them, he was going to let them all die. I was only able to save the two that were most stable and only by taking their cores into myself. So I’m not normal pregnant, I’m ghost pregnant.

What is my life huh?” He finished, chuckling awkwardly.

“Oh fuck,” Sam said her shoulders slumping a little even as her expression went through a range of emotions. “That’s better in a way but still a whole different type of fucked up! I hope they catch him soon.”

“I hope so too but I don’t think they will,” Danny said with a shrug. “Not before he tries something else. I’m not lucky enough to be able to just move past this,” He said with a bitter little laugh.

“Well, we can still hope. And even if he does cause trouble you have more allies now! You’ve been able to handle everything else he’s thrown at you basically on your own, with the Justice League behind you I know there’s nothing you can’t handle. I mean, Vlad is kind of pathetic anyway,” Tucker encouraged making Danny smile.

“Ya, you’re right, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks guys,” he said fondly.

“Of course dude! We’re here for you!” Tucker said.

“It’s really good to hear from you too. Don’t be a stranger okay?” Sam said, a bit worried.

“Of course not, I’ll keep you posted I promise.” Danny assured before they said their goodbyes and he hung up.

He put down his phone and leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. Next to him Jazz chuckled and there was a soft snap as she closed her book.

“You did well little brother,” She told him, getting up from her seat she moved behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.

“How do you know? You weren’t listening.”

“No, but you reached out to your friends and had an honest conversation which isn’t easy. You did well,” She reiterated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Well thanks Jazz. I hope that they’re right that we won’t lose touch, and I’ll be able to handle whatever Vlad does,” He grumbled.

“I’m sure we will,” Jazz promised. “And either way there’s no point in worrying about it now. Has Jason texted you yet?” She asked, giving Danny the excuse he needed to change the subject and launch into his more petty worries about the upcoming date as she sat back down to listen.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dead on main #jason todd #danny fenton #jazz fenton #damian wayne #sam manson #tucker foley #trans!danny #Danny is pregnant #finally getting help au #bad parents jack and maddie #Vlad is a creep

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tsuvvy · 3 months

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Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 1

Your Chance

The Batfamily is getting intel and weapons back from a dangerous villain. But he had a bodyguard. A child bodyguard who didn't really seem interested in their task of guarding the villain. You seemed more interested in killing Cassandra.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, talk of killing, talk of weapons, use of weapons, use of electricity in fighting, cussing, ik Jason and Damian are skilled and can adapt to many different types of fighters, but for the sake of this, they were caught extremely off guard..

Word Count: 3.1k

You looked down at your palms, letting the volts of electricity flicker and surge around your hands. You let out a breath.

This was your one chance. Your one chance to prove to your dad that you weren't a failure. You could kill. You could kill more efficiently and quickly than Cassandra ever could. And you could do it in cold blood, unlike Cassandra who was left disgusted with her first kill.

And you would prove it by killing her.

The moon was bright in the sky, just as the bat symbol was. You stared at it through the window with a kind of hope most didn't have. The hope that you would kill someone that answers to the bat symbol in the sky.

You struggled with speech. You grew up sheltered, only being taught to kill from the moment you were put on the ground to crawl. You were a lot alike to Cassandra. But you were a quick learner. You could quickly pick up on the speech of others, and the body language to decipher a little bit of what the words might mean in different situations.

The words you knew were a small amount that you couldn't get out of your mouth without a bit of struggle.

“No, that Cain guy sent this kid,” you glanced over your shoulder to look at the desk behind you where a man in a nice suit sat. He was lazing around in his chair, his legs kicked up on the desk as he looked at you. You remember your dad calling him Kerrim. Kerrim didn't realize you were looking back, “one creepy ass kid,” he added the remark onto his statement from before. “He said they're one of the best, but I won't buy it till I see it.” He smirked in doubtful amusement.

Orphan, Red Hood, and Robin worked diligently to avoid the cameras of the building and avoid guards that walked around.

Though it wasn't easy.

“I wasn't expecting the guard to be so high up..” Red Hood grumbled, peeking around the corner at a few guards that were speaking in the hallway.

“And what did you expect?” Robin grumbled back, looking up at the man, “That this guy was dumb? No. Someone can't make it this high up into the drug business by being dumb.” He sent a scowl at Red Hood from behind his domino mask.

“Aww, did you just call me smart?” Red Hood smirked from behind his helmet, looking down at Robin.

“Focus.” Orphan reminded the two, “We have to take the guards out, we can't get past them any other way..”

“On it.” Red Hood said.

“Wait-” Red Hood was already turning the corner, immediately alerting the guards to his presence.

“Huh.. Guess someone can get up the drug business by being dumb.” Robin remarked as he watched around the corner with Orphan.

“Intruder!” One of the guards had yelled into his walkie talkie clipped to the breast pocket of his vest. “Intruder in sector G!”

Red Hood was fighting with the other guard. Knocking him off of his feet by kicking under his legs and knocking him unconscious by kicking him in the head.

“Shit!” Red Hood yelled when alarms started going off and red lights started flashing everywhere.

Orphan and Robin looked to the camera above their head they had been in the blind spot of. It was now angled directly towards them.

‘What did you idiots do!?’ Tim yelled through the coms in their ears.

Red Hood had started fighting with the other guard, having a bit of trouble before Orphan rushed forward.

“‘You idiots?’ It was Red Hood!” Robin retorted back into the coms as he too moved around the corner.

Orphan had rushed past Red Hood and landed a flurry of well calculated hits and kicks to the guard. One of the kicks that sent him colliding into the wall knocked him out as well. He slid against the wall falling to the floor.

The three looked down the hall at the sounds of footsteps. Many of them.

“You are an imbecile. An imbecile!” Robin yelled at Red Hood before he turned around the corner again, already running down the hall before Red Hood and Orphan followed.

“Well sorry I was taking initiative!” Red Hood yelled at the kid in annoyance.

“In here!” Orphan called, beckoning the two into a room that looked to be for something like storage. It was big and barren enough to hear an echo.

“They went this way!” The three stopped in the middle of the room, turning to look at the door in anticipation when the guard had yelled that. They expected anyone to walk in at any moment. But they heard a group of bounding footsteps pass the door.

Your head whipped around at the flashing red lights and the alarms sounding throughout the whole building.

“Shit!” Kerrim screamed, jumping out of his seat in an instant, his hands on the desk. “How the hell did they get in without getting noticed!?”

You were practically already at the door. “Hey!” He screamed at you, “Where the hell are you going!!?” But you didn’t respond. You didn’t even acknowledge you. “Get back here, you little rat!!” And you were out the door.

“Damnit!” Kerrim slammed his hands against the desk before whipping around and kicking his swivel chair, which went rolling. His kick barely did anything to the chair. “Cain said you were one of the best!” He yelled after you. Or.. More at the door you had just exited through. “But the best know how to follow orders!”

Kerrim started pacing around the room, grumbling and screaming frustrated curses that also held anxiety for the situation with intruders in the building.

All you could think about was the chance you had just gained. You knew it was her. Or at least someone from the accursed Batman vigilante group. But even if it wasn’t Cassandra. You could get her attention by killing another she cared for.

This is your chance

You have to take it while you have it.

You can't pass this up.

Despite not expecting to meet the intruders almost right outside Kerrim’s office, just down the wide hall. Neither looked to be Cassandra to your disappointment. But you recognized them to be Robin and Red Hood. People affiliated with her.

The three had taken a moment to regroup and catch their breaths before they had slipped out of the storage room door and listened to Tim’s directions to get to Kerrim's office.

Red Hood and Robin froze at the sight of you, but you had already unsheathed your sword with the swiftness and speed equivalent to that of a bird's. They weren't expecting a kid to come out of Kerrim’s office. Especially not a kid that looked to be the same age or younger than Robin.

“What the hell!!?” He screamed, just barely dodging the slashes of your swords. Robin had unsheathed his own sword, raising it and bringing it down to attack you. But you ricocheted the attack, blocking it and throwing the direction of his sword in another before you raised your leg, kicking him in the side and sending him colliding with a wall.

“Who in the hell is this kid!?” Red Hood shrieked, dodging slice after slice of your attacks. For a little kid, you were extremely strong, agile, and obviously professionally trained in fighting. Well enough to be able to have a chance at winning a fight with a grown man twice your size and a boy trained to be an assassin since birth.

‘Their fighting style's familiar..’ Tim muttered into the com. ‘Wait, where did Orphan go?’

You let the electricity conduct into the grip of the sword. It didn’t take too long for it to travel up into the blade, starting to wrap around it. Red Hood raised his gun up, having the intention to use it to block the slice of your sword. But he hadn't expected it to cut through. He felt a shock in his arm, and soon it went numb and tingly for a moment. The half of his gun he still held fell from his hand and collided to the ground.

He jumped back, staring at you from behind his helmet in shock.

The electricity in your sword had traveled into his gun and then his hand to produce the effect that it did.

“Red Hood, are you okay!?” He heard through the coms in his ears.

“Cassandra..” You spoke in a somewhat shaky and strained voice, like you were struggling to speak. “Where.. Is she?” Your voice, apart from the struggle it took to find the words, was somewhat muffled due to the cloth of the mask you wore over your mouth.

“What..?” Red Hood asked, confused. The struggle you had with your speech took him aback.

“Where..” You swallowed, “where is Cassandra.”

Red Hood was at a loss for words. He was confused on how a kid like you that appeared out of nowhere was so skilled with a sword and a power as adept as electricity. He knew children could be good fighters, Cassandra and Robin being prime examples. But you? Something was different about you. Your fighting style was familiar, just like Tim had noticed. But the other thing was.

“How do you know Cassandra?” Robin spoke coldly behind you. Yeah.. That was what Red Hood had been getting to.

You didn't respond, which caused Robin’s brows to furrow and his eyes to narrow on you behind his domino mask.

“Fine, I'll say it again. How do you know who Cassandra is?” His voice was more stern, growing a venom in it that could kill like a Cobra’s.

“Where is she?” Your voice still held that shake and struggle in it.

Something about you reminded Robin of someone. But he couldn't place his finger on who.

Neither of the two watching you noticed the way you were charging up a surge of electricity within your hand. Neither noticed it before you were throwing your arm out towards Robin, shooting it at him.

Robin was caught off guard. He hadn't been expecting you to be able to charge up your ability so quickly. He couldn't move quick enough to dodge it.

Just before it touched his middle, he was being tackled from the side. He looked up in surprise at Orphan.

She was already standing up, directing her attention to you.

“I’m right here,” She told you.

Your eyes widened somewhat, and you turned to look at her better. You couldn’t believe it. There she is. And not in some old picture or low quality one your father had managed to get someone to take. It was her in front of you in the flesh.

You’re taking your chance.

Red Hood lurched forward, thinking your attention was fully on Orphan. Though it wasn’t. You had made sure to keep both Robin and Red Hood in your peripheral vision. A surge of electricity started to travel through your arm before getting to your hand. The surging light seemed to wrap around your arm and now your hand as it traveled. Your palm collided with his stomach. Your touch seemed more gentle, but the powerful shock that seemed equivalent to a defibrillator shocked Red Hood’s insides. He stumbled backward.

His limbs felt numb, the room was spinning, he couldn’t focus and his whole body was in pain.

“Red Hood!” Robin and Cassandra cried, so did Tim within the coms. Red Hood stumbled a bit more.

Your attention was already back on Cassandra. You held your sword in both hands, rushing forward and slicing at the black haired vigilante. She moved quickly, you couldn’t deny it. Quicker than the first two did. Though you could tell you had only caught Robin off guard, you knew he could fight better. But that didn’t matter. Now Cassandra is here. Now she is your priority.

Again, she was quick. She dodged your countless attacks you threw at her with your sword. Robin had gone to Red Hood’s side, checking his pulse.

You swung your sword, but Cassandra slipped under it and rushed forward. Your eyes widened as you saw her hand was going for a pressure point in your wrist, crap. No.. It’s okay. You’re fine. You were trained just like her, if not better. And you have an advantage.

You threw your sword to the side, it was the only option so you could keep control of your hands. If you held onto it, she would have paralyzed your wrists for as long as she felt necessary. Electricity surged and wrapped around your calf, traveling down to your foot. You pushed backwards with that foot, putting your weight on the leg you didn’t have electricity rushing through. You raised your foot, kicking Cassandra with a strength that could knock down one of the heavier training dummies at the Manor’s gym.

Cassandra couched, stumbling backwards for a moment while holding her side you had kicked. She had winced in pain, closing an eye tightly to somehow deal with it. Her side was throbbing, and she knew the electricity had traveled into her arms and legs because she could feel her fingertips throbbing, and her legs had felt weak for a second. But, she recovered quickly. The two of you looked at each other, in some sort of a stand off like you see in those western movies. But two of you were now fighting hand to hand.

“Orphan,” Robin called from the side, Red Hood had recovered some, being able to stand now. But he still looked a bit disoriented.

“Go,” Cassandra said, “I can handle this.”

Robin and Red Hood listened, heading towards the door behind them. You didn’t care. Again, Cassandra is your priority, not them.

“Right.” Robin said, going towards the door. You didn't care about protecting Kerrim. It's not like he meant anything to you. Plus, your father will be proud when you kill Cassandra. Far prouder than if you kept some random drug lord alive.

You lurched forward, immediately catching her attention again. You threw a kick at her which she had dogged and you ducked under the punch she sent at you. You winced when she kicked your side and you caught her leg. You pulled it forward roughly, also pulling Cassandra towards you and let go of her leg; you punched her in the face. Your fist collided with her jaw.

Cassandra ignored the slight pain radiating within her cheek and threw her arms out forward and around you. She wrapped her arms around your middle tightly. You tried to push against her, but she was strong. Stronger than you were really expecting. She pushed you forward until your back hit against the wall of the wide hallway roughly. It hurt and knocked the wind out of you, but you recovered quickly. You raised up your own leg and kicked the heel of the boot you wore into Cassandra’s abdomen. She stumbled backwards, holding her abdomen with one arm, and the other arm was at her side.

She looked at you with a wince on her face, her jaw clenched. You rushed forward and started sending electrified punches and kicks at her, but she dodged them all, some just barely. But she dodged them all.

You were growing more and more frustrated. And with that, your attacks just grew more and more aggressive.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she blocked a kick of your’s with her forearm. She couldn’t see your whole face because of the mask you were wearing to at least hide the bottom half of your face. But she could see your eyes. And she saw the way your brows furrowed. She recognized it. She recognized the dim look on your face. She realized it was the one she used to have when she was about your age.

She realized you couldn't understand what she was saying. She felt a pain of empathy fall through her body, landing in her stomach.

You had no idea what she was saying. It sounded like gibberish. But you could tell she was holding back. She wasn’t fighting as well as she could have. Your father made you watch videos of how Cassandra fought when she was your age. She was incredibly skilled, you knew that. And how she was fighting now was that you’ve seen from a novice from the League of Assassins.

Your father realized not long after you grew more of a consciousness for yourself that you had a short temper. You get frustrated easily. And he also realized your meta human ability might be tied with your emotions. You and your electricity got stronger, more relentless, and faster.

And Cassandra had noticed this too. She was amazed with you. You were so young, no older than 14 or maybe 13 and you were already so in control of your abilities. And you were quick. Very quick.

You were about to high kick her in the side of her head, but you made a mistake. You slipped. The foot you put all of your weight on slipped on the ground. Your eyes widened. Cassandra grabbed your wrists and decided on falling with you.

You winced when your back hit the ground roughly. You felt your head knock against the ground roughly as well. Her forearm was against your neck, and she had both of your wrists pinned to the ground above your head. You felt one of her knees pressing firmly against your abdomen, and her other foot was on the ground next to you both, holding her up.

You felt your head pounding, and your eyes grew heavy, no doubt because of it’s collision with the ground. You looked around. Your vision was mixed with spots of different sizes as you looked at the walls and dim lights on the cieling that seemed greatly bright now. Soon, your gaze landed on the woman above you.

Cassandra. Crap.. Cassandra had you pinned to the ground. You need to get up. You need to fight. You need to kill her. You can’t lose, not like this when you’re so close to your mission.

You tried to push against her grip on your wrists, and you tried to push your abdomen up to maybe push her knee off of you, but it wasn’t any use. You were too weak, and you were too tired.

The most you could was charge up a weak volt of electricity into your arms and send them up to your wrists. All Cassandra felt was a tiny shock like static shock from a door or clothing.

Then everything went black..

Chapter Two ->

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thelibrarian1895 · 1 month

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Gotham Rich People

So there are other millionaires and billionaires in Gotham besides Bruce Wayne.

I'll wait for you to get over the shock.

You good? Ok

There are other stupidly rich people in Gotham. A thought that if you've really made it in stupidly rich society in the dc verse then you have to have some property in Gotham where you stay for like a month or so every year like it's the regency society season. It's a sign that you're so ridiculously rich that it doesn't matter if someone steals your priceless painting or holds you for ransom because you can afford it and still be ridiculously rich. You are rich enough that your bodyguards are so skilled that they can keep you safe in Gotham. Because people are stupid and people who are rich and want to be snobs about it and show off tend to be a little more so than not.

Ridiculously rich seasonal Gothamites will also absolutely think that being kidnapped and held for ransom by one crime family or another or a rogue shows a different level of quality and status. Because they are just that bored and just that rich. And it lets them deal with the ✨trauma✨ ala gallows humor.

Lex Luthor has a bunch of snobby rich people look down their noses at him because he doesn't have Gotham property (Bruce keeps outbidding him when he tries and then Tim does the same when Bruce is busy because neither want Luthor in their city though sometimes people just won't sell if they find out it's Luthor trying to buy the property because they don't want him in the city either) and while he's rich enough to make mechs to go after Superman he can't afford quality Gotham caliber bodyguards.

Oliver Queen might have had a tiny by rich people standards apartment in Gotham, he inherited it. It may have been destroyed during the quake. He doesn't bother to rebuild or buy a new one and just stays in fancy hotel if he has to be in Gotham for any length of time and grumbles that Bruce won't let him crash at his place.

Tim gets Drake Manor back, if he didn't have it already, and puts it in his and Kon's name so Kon can be smug at Luthor because Kon has property in Gotham. Tim might come up with another secret identity as Connor Luthor's Gotham bodyguard just for fun. Superman may be Luthor's villain nemesis, Tim is determined to make himself Luthor's social and business nemesis because Tim apparently doesn't have enough people who want his head on a pike. Also fewer people give Tim well meaning lectures against villainy when Tim makes trouble for Luthor than when he's made trouble for Clark after Clark has said or done something dumb to Kon. Plus having a business nemesis makes being primary shareholder in Wayne Enterprises less mind numbing for Tim.

These other stupidly rich people also end up getting fleeced for millions by the Waynes for the Wayne charities because if they're going to have all these extra idiots to keep an eye on then these extra idiots are going to pay for things like the road work that the city isn't paying for because the city budget was embezzled by some jerk who ran off with the money to some other hole in the ground.

If Jason is bored enough he will be one of those rogues who kidnaps one of the Gotham elite visiting for their maintain the status month and the ransom money goes directly to literacy and educational programs. This way his preferred causes are funded and he doesn't have to be stuck in a suit at a horribly boring gala where he has to be polite. He is also considered the top tier platinum star in rogues to be kidnapped by since he is professional, has kidnapped Waynes before (Damian convinced him to do it so Damian could get out of a series of civilian parties and go hang out with Jon instead and a few times Cass has gotten Jason to "kidnap" her so she doesn't have to deal with a gala either) and is known for returning people when the ransom is paid. He has, on occasion, returned people after the ransom demands were made and denied and it is later discovered that he took the ransom anyway and the person who denied to pay the ransom finds themselves in serious physical and legal trouble. Seasonal Gotham rich people will absolutely brag about having been kidnapped by the Red Hood who clearly has good taste in hostages.

#bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #gotham #lex luthor #kon el #jason todd #damian wayne #young just us #cassandra wayne #damian wayne al ghul

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ggomos-maribat · 8 months

Text

8 | in which Bruce is not the only aspiring Marinette-adopter

Part 8 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

"A visit to the Kent family farm?" Marinette echoed, "This sounds like a family event only. Are you sure I should be going?"

"I know it sounds like I'm pre-adopting you—"

"Yes, it absolutely sounds like that—"

"But Dick suggested for you to come instead of him since he won't be able to come," Bruce explained. "Besides, Lois specifically asked for you."

Lois, huh. Marinette felt an incoming headache already. On one hand, a part of her knew she should be declining it firmly but it would be terribly impolite to turn down the invitation as well. It was a problem indeed.

But if I go, I can just stick to the Kents and avoid the Waynes, right? She wondered. It's free food too and I won't need to work on a Friday.

One work week later, she ended up squeezed inside a van with Bruce behind the wheel, driving to Smallville. She had a basket of pastries at her feet, window to her left and Damian on her right. Everything seemed to be going fine when—

Screech!

The car suddenly halted and before Marinette knew it, Damian's arm was in front of her to keep her from face-planting on the back of the car seat.

"Sorry! There was a dog!" Bruce apologized from the front seat.

"If you were gonna drive this bad, you should've let me drive instead," Jason groaned from the passenger seat, rubbing his head.

"Yeah, Bruce, you should've told us if you were gonna send us to an early grave," Stephanie piped up from the back. "Damn it Cass, we have to redo the cracker tower."

When Marinette took a peek, she saw that the girls were trying to pile up some Ritz crackers on top of a sleeping Tim's forehead. Tim (lucky for him) was just snoring away the whole time.

Bruce threw his second son a look. "We both know you're going above the speed limit if you drive."

"I only speed when I'm on my bike!" Jason denied. "I can definitely drive better than you, old man."

Marinette figured these were the effects of not having Alfred around. The butler had to go to the farm ahead of them in the promise of helping the elder Kents prepare. But Marinette knew Alfred just secretly wanted to escape the family's chaos.

"Are you okay?" Damian whispered beside her. She nodded and smiled in reply.

In fact, Marinette was about to open her mouth to offer to drive but then she remembered her agreement with Bruce: on the trip, she wasn't supposed to act as an assistant but rather a family friend. She sighed inwardly in defeat.

"Father, if you're already too old to drive, I can take over the wheel as well," Damian said.

"I'm not too old to drive." Bruce rolled his eyes. "It's fine, I can handle this."

"Famous last words," Jason scoffed. "If Dickie were here he'd arrest you for reckless driving."

"I'm not recklessly driving!"

Marinette withheld a chuckle. Seeing someone causing trouble for Bruce other than herself was amusing. She stretched as much as the small space allowed her and whispered to Damian, "Can I rest my head on you?"

He stared at her for a moment. "Of course."

Grinning, Marinette leaned her head against his shoulder. Their arms were only slightly touching but she could feel his warmth. From her position, she could see Bruce squinting at them through the rearview mirror.

"Bruce, eyes on the road please," Duke warned.

Bruce huffed through his nose but focused on driving.

"Why can't Clark take us there instead?" Stephanie complained, "It'll be much faster."

An image was painted in Marinette's head: Superman carrying the van over the skies while Bruce sulked on the front seat.

"He's busy," Bruce replied, glancing towards Marinette (probably checking if she found the statement odd). "Don't you think I'm perfectly capable of taking us there safely?"

"Nope," Stephanie responded.

"Ditto," Cass said.

Stephanie snorted out a laugh. "I only agreed to go anyway 'cause Kara and Lois are there."

"Ditto."

"Hey if he gets any worse at driving, I'll call Alfred and tell him we got kidnapped," Jason suggested.

"No, you're not," Bruce sighed in exasperation.

"Twenty-one crackers!" Stephanie cheered suddenly. "Agghh, hold it there Cass, I'm taking a picture!"

Marinette's gaze strayed downwards. Our hands are really, really close. Their knuckles are just barely brushing. Sucking in a breath, she moved her fingers to touch the back of Damian's hand. To her surprise, his hand wrapped around hers with his thumb rubbing her knuckles.

The car swerved again.

"BRUCE!"

"That's it, I'm calling Alfred."

"Fuck! The crackers!"

". . . Wha . . . huh? What's happening?"

***

"Where is she?! Where's Marinette?"

One of the things Marinette dreaded. Seeing Lois Lane-Kent again. The woman practically squeezed past the other Kent boys to lock her in a suffocating hug the moment she stepped out of the van.

"Marinette!" Lois said, pulling away and squishing her cheeks together. "Jeez, recommend an assistant job to a girl and she never reaches out anymore!"

"I answer your calls sometimes," Marinette weakly protested.

"But no visits." Lois turned to Bruce with an accusatory glare. "Are you overworking the poor girl?!"

"No, no, I'm fine." Marinette gently pulled away from her hold while Bruce escaped to help the others prepare the picnic table. "It's a great job, honestly. The pay is very generous."

"You know Marinette, Lois?" Duke asked as he helped unload another box from the van.

"You haven't told them?" Lois looked at her, and Marinette responded with a sheepish look.

Lois smiled proudly, wrapping an affectionate arm around Marinette. "I had the absolute honor of interviewing this girl about the Paris akuma attacks. She was the civilian aide for the heroes!"

"Lois," Marinette groaned.

"We kept in touch, and I was the one who suggested she get a PA job at WE when she moved to Gotham." Lois patted the top of her head. "Hmph, on second thought I should've kept you as an assistant for myself."

"I told you, journalism isn't my expertise," said Marinette.

"You're a brilliant girl, you can learn! If you stay in Metropolis, you can even live with us!"

Marinette's eyes widened in horror. "No please, I've had enough of serial adopters."

"What? Oh, is Bruce trying to . . ." She scowled at the girl's boss again. "I knew it! I knew this would happen, agh I shouldn't have sent you to him!"

"Lois . . . no, you can't legally adopt me . . ."

The woman's eyes gleamed. "But illegally?"

"You were a civilian aide?" Damian asked, staring at Marinette.

"No big deal. I just worked behind the scenes to help defeat Hawkmoth." She kept a wary eye on Bruce. If he were to find out, he will combust for sure . . . and become more adamant on adopting her.

"Read my article, you'll see how amazing she is!" Lois boasted.

"Lois, please," Marinette sighed. "I'll go set these up at the table."

Fortunately, a savior by the name of Ma Kent called Lois back to the house so Marinette was able to shake her off. She was grateful for the journalist, really—recounting what happened to Paris was no easy feat and often other reporters liked to focus on the heroes and villain only, not the trauma or lasting damage on the city. Lois even helped her settle in, lecturing her on the dangers of Gotham despite not being its resident.

But Lois was . . . the second one who expressed the desire of adopting her before Bruce.

"Didn't know the Waynes had a new one," a new voice said.

"Kon!" Marinette put down the basket and reached up to hug the boy. "I didn't know you're here!"

"When I heard you were coming, I knew I couldn't miss this." Kon raised an eyebrow. "You're such a traitor, Mars, you're one of them now?"

"Of course not!" She huffed. "I wanted to skip out on work and, er, Lois wanted me to come."

Another familiar face approached the two. "Full offense, but you look like you're part of the Wayne family now."

Marinette lowered her tone to a whisper, leaning to give Jon a side hug. "Mr. Wayne wishes." She rolled her eyes. "But he can't, obviously."

A few feet away from them, Clark fell into a coughing fit. Oops, he heard that didn't he? Marinette's cheeks reddened.

She had been visiting Metropolis during her third meet up with Lois. At that time, she had the two boys join them for lunch, and that was when Marinette got to meet them. Both seemed just as energetic as the Wayne boys, by her observation, but in a different way.

Jon threw an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, is it just me or Damian looks extra broody?"

"Probably . . . jealous?" Kon looked at the boy.

"Jealous of what?" asked Jon. Slowly, his head turned towards Marinette, seemingly coming to a realization little by little. "What? No way."

"Maybe . . . yes way." Marinette brushed a hand over her bangs. "There was this, um, thing on our way here you see."

"What is it? What is it?"

Marinette rubbed her heated cheek. "I'll tell you later!"

Just then, Clark came to the table to set down some glasses and utensils. "It's nice seeing you again, Marinette. You haven't run into another Batman-related trouble I hope?"

"Batman-related trouble?" Jon repeated, directing a curious look towards her.

"Nope, not at all," Marinette chuckled. "In fact, he stalked me one night in an empty street just to apologize."

Clark's eyebrows raised. "He did?"

"You never told us that!" Kon chimed in.

"I know, it's a long story." Marinette grinned evilly. "But I think it's best told over lunch with everyone."

***

"Tea or coffee?" Marinette asked her guest, who was sitting at her humble dining table, hands folded together.

"Tea please, my dear. I do miss your personal brew—it's one of a kind."

Marinette rolled her eyes as she grabbed a teacup from the upper cabinets. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

The guest tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "It's not flattery. It's only a comment."

Marinette prepared the tea diligently, and even brought out leftover banana bread she made for herself and her neighbors. From her periphery, she could see the woman looking over the photographs she had framed on the pastel walls. "There's too much of you who want to adopt me, you know," she said.

"Oh?"

"My boss and . . . Lois just the other day. I don't know if she was joking or not." Marinette scrunched her nose. "Seriously, legally none of you can adopt me."

"Who said I was going to do it by legal means?"

"Kwamis, don't say that, Talia. I think Bruce is an inch away from doing it under the table too."

With the tea and snacks prepared, Marinette put everything on a wooden tray she put together herself and brought it over to the table. If she anticipated Talia's visit, she would've cooked an entire meal. Alas, the woman popped up during the most unexpected hours.

"Your honey jar is very cute." Talia chuckled.

"Hmpf. It was a gift." A house-warming (or apartment-warming?) gift from Adrien: a custom transparent jar with a cat design painted on it. The top of the dipper's handle was carved out into a paw.

"How is Damian, by the way?"

"I thought you came here as a friend." Marinette crossed her arms. "It's not my job to keep tabs on your son."

"I know that, my dear, but he doesn't like seeing me . . ."

"Just talk to him." Marinette took a bite of her bread. "You know, the key to being emotionally constipated is to actually let it all out."

Marinette had met Talia al Ghul way before she met Bruce or any of the Waynes. She found out the woman's connection to them much later, however. After becoming guardian and losing Fu to amnesia, Talia had become somewhat of a mentor to her. Someone who taught her more about eccentric skills than magical knowledge and responsibility (the woman was crazy skilled in the most random things, it used to drive Marinette crazy). Since they'd parted aways after she graduated, Marinette saw her more like a troublesome aunt than a teacher.

"He has taken an interest in you, no?" The way her emerald eyes glittered spoke of her slyness.

"Taliaaa," Marinette groaned.

"What? It is very funny how fate brought you two together." She sighed wistfully. "I never saw it coming."

"Do you seriously want me to be with your son just so you can make me your daughter?"

"What's the problem? You like him too, right?"

"Talia!"

She shrugged. "'I'm just saying I'm not opposed to the relationship."

Marinette rubbed her face, hoping to ease off the heat on her cheeks. "I thought you're here to see how I'm doing, not badger me about my love life. You're starting to sound like my mom."

Talia's grin grew wide. "Your mom?"

"Wait, no—"

Talia set her chin on top of her locked hands. "Would you like a League-themed wedding, my dear? Have a little blood pact mixed in?"

"Damian and I aren't even marrying!"

"Yet," the woman added. "I can't wait to have you in the family. I've got the perfect heirlooms to pass on to you. A sword, if you'd like or even a kunai."

"Oh, come on—"

"You have my complete blessing Marinette," she cooed. "In fact, I'd rather have Damian be with no one else but you."

Marinette stood up so quickly, red in the face, and her chair scraped the floor. "I'm going to bed."

Talia reached over to grab her hand. "Leaving your guest all alone! Where are the manners I taught you?"

"I'd actually love to chat if you have something else to talk about," Marinette huffed.

"Alright, alright, sit down. I'll behave myself, I promise." The former mentor smiled. Marinette narrowed her eyes. She should've closed her window that night.

***

After a debate with herself, Marinette decided to voice out her request to Bruce at the time she served coffee and snacks in his office. She was setting down his mug on a coaster when she popped the question: "Mr. Wayne, can I have next Thursday off? I can work on Saturday to make up for it."

Bruce looked up from his screen. "Hm? What for?"

"I've finally decided to let Lois adopt me."

"What?" Marinette had never seen Bruce so panicked. She didn't know if she should laugh or feel sorry for it.

"I'm kidding." She transferred the snacks next from the rolling cart. "Some of my friends are visiting Gotham, but their only free day is on Thursday. I haven't seen them in a while so I really want to catch up."

Bruce slowly regained his composure, clearing his throat. "Right. Of course you can go, Marinette. No need for the extra hours."

". . . Are you sure you'll be fine without me?"

"Yes, we have no meetings scheduled that day, do we?" Bruce waved the thought off. "Enjoy the day off. You deserve it."

***

It was Chloe who got them the reservations for their dinner: an open air chabudai-style restaurant that served Japanese cuisine. The tables were low, comfy enough for them to sit cross-legged on cushions while still keeping elegance.

Marinette sipped on her drink and nudged Luka with her shoulder. "You never told us what you were in Gotham for."

The now world-renowned musician ran a hand through his hair. "Dad's having a tour around the U.S. He wanted to check the venue here since this is the last stop. Our band's opening."

Marinette sucked in a breath. "Congrats, Luka! I didn't know about that, Jagged hasn't put out a commission yet!"

"Planning's still in the works." Luka smiled. "I'm sure Penny will reach out soon."

Adrien groaned and stretched his arms. "I'm so fuullll." He fell on his back, positioning his head on Marinette's lap.

"I told you to lay off on the maki roll," Chloe tsked to which Adrien stuck out a tongue in reply.

Marinette ignored the bickering pair and turned to Kagami. "What about you, Kags? Have you met up with your new student yet?"

"What new student?" asked Adrien.

"You're not reading the group chat, are you?" Chloe scolded.

"It's alright, I only mentioned it in passing." Kagami poured more cups of beer for Luka and Chloe. "A former coach told me about a rising fencing prodigy in Gotham. I wanted to take a look for myself if I can mentor them. Unfortunately there was an emergency at the airport earlier so I'm meeting them tomorrow instead."

Marinette grimaced, distinctly remembering that some Rogues had broken into the airport in the morning.

"Prodigy or not, the kid's gonna be an international level pro if you're the coach, Gami," Adrien pointed out.

"Hm. You have too much faith in me."

"What about you, Maribug? How's work?" Chloe directed her inquisitive gaze at the girl.

"Just the same old." With a little bit of something going on with my boss' son. "My boss still wants to adopt me, everyday's busy, sometimes I get caught up in robberies and hostage situations for a little spice."

"M'lady?" Adrien suddenly said in a soft voice.

Marinette reached down to stroke his hair. "What's up?"

"I think I saw something move behind the trees over there."

Marinette squinted into the dark, past the lantern lights. Familiar . . . shadows moved around, cloaked by the darkness.

"Oh hell no," she whispered. "What the fuck? Those are the Gotham vigilantes."

Adrien's lips shaped into an 'o'. "Ohhh, I think . . . I think they're here because of me."

"What?"

"Well, the small business I asked to do the landscaping for our runway event is Pam and Harley’s," Adrien explained. "I talked to them earlier and they got worried since it's my first time here in Gotham. They offered a security detail even when I said I didn't need any!"

"And that . . . security detail are the vigilantes?" Chloe stared.

"Guess so. Hey, do you think we should offer them some food?" Adrien sat up and waved at the shadows. "Do you think they'll join us?"

"Adrien," Marinette groaned. "Anyone but them."

"What, why?"

***

Meanwhile . . .

"Rob, you've been staring at Marinette and that guy for a long time."

"I am not."

"Are you jealous? She said they're her friends right? They must be really close."

"Tt."

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @animegirlweeb @fairlyfatale @agentxx92

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

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gerryrigged · 5 months

Text

dicktim - La Beau Au Bois Dormant

idea gripping my tired brain by the throat about Tim being struck by some kind of sleeping beauty poison or spell and falling comatose.

Except the solution is not True Love's Kiss but sending someone inside his soul to battle the dragon that will manifest from his inner demons to keep him imprisoned, forever.

The highest chance for success necessitates sending in the one person that the sleeper trusts most - often their love, hence the poison/spell's reputation, but not always.

And almost everyone immediately turns to Dick, like in you go, Nightwing, what are you waiting for.

Which Dick. Doesn't know how to react to, because. God he would give anything to be that person for Tim again. But he knows that he broke something between them when he stripped away Robin.

They've moved past it, they're...fine. But Dick knows. It's not the same. They aren't the same.

He can't help Tim with this. Tim probably wouldn't even want him to try. And that kills him, but he won't sabotage Tim's only shot to wake up because of his own desperate wish to still be the one Tim turns to first. His north star.

There's a ticking-clock time limit before Tim won't be able to wake up at all. They don't have any time to lose.

He looks away from everyone's expectant, demanding stares.

"Call Superboy," he says, voice scraped raw from his throat. "Or Kid Flash. They'll get here in time."

He can't stand the disappointment on Bruce's face. It makes helpless anger boil hot and toxic in his belly. Bruce wasn't here for everything that happened. He doesn't know.

(Dick's never told him. How badly he fucked up.)

"Wait, not his boyfriend?'" Steph says, raised eyebrows and gesticulating at nowhere in particular and Dick's churning thoughts sputter and die into frozen blankness. Boyfriend?

Babs shakes her head on the Batcomputer's view screen.

"They're not at that level of trust yet. They haven't even been dating that long, Tim definitely hasn't told him about - " she twirls a finger, indicating all of them. Red Robin on the medical bed, cowl pushed down and cape pooled around him. The Cave, vaulting overhead. " - all of this. And he won't thank us for doing it for him."

Tim...has a boyfriend?

Wow. His little brother used to always want his advice on love. Life. Everything. If he doesn't trust Dick enough anymore to tell him even that much... Well. It just proves definitively that Dick isn't the right person for this job.

(It hurts like Dick's vital organs are being crushed in a massive fist.)

"Time is ticking," Jason Blood says quietly, looking down at the open face of his pocket watch. At his feet, a circle of lit candles awaits someone to sit down inside and sink into an enchanted meditation.

"Father, clearly it should be you," Damian says, tapping his foot rapidly. His arms are crossed tightly under his cape in a way that he probably means to come across as scornful, rather than apprehensive. "Or Pennyworth, even."

Bruce shakes his head, troubled. "No. I don't think so. Cassie...?"

"No," Cass responds calmly. "Not me." She seems untroubled by her own denial, even though she and Tim have been thick as thieves ever since she returned to Gotham.

She's looking at Dick. She hasn't looked away from Dick this whole time, or let go of Tim's hand, folded in hers protectively, over his heart.

"It's still you, big brother," she says. Gentle and direct and devastating. "Go. Bring him back."

Not so long ago, Tim trusted Dick to catch him when he fell.

Or, he was depressed and passively suicidal and telling Dick what he wanted to hear. Maybe he even believed it, after the fact.

In the end, it doesn't matter. He's Dick's brother. Dick will always, always be there to catch him, whether Tim trusts him to or not.

Dick goes.

He faces Tim, sinks into lotus inside the ring of flickering little flames, and closes his eyes, heart in his throat.

He opens his eyes. A vast, jagged bramble forest looms dark above him. Far in the distance, he can just make out a spindly tower piercing the sky, a flickering little light shining at the top.

He hacks his way through the biting brambles of Tim's resentments, leaving blood and sorrows dripping from the thorns in his wake.

He fights the sly, sinuous dragon of Tim's despair, singing with every breath that he can spare, so that Tim might hear him and know he's not alone.

He wishes he could remember happy songs, bright and lively songs - wishes he could be the light in the darkness that Tim deserves, that he looked up to and chased after and for some reason tried to model himself upon, even when he was already so very bright himself.

But any song is better than none to pierce the lonely vault of silence, so he sings of pain, of loss, of faith and faithlessness. Of holding on past the point of breaking. He sings of two hands open and outstretched, waiting to be clasped and held.

When his voice falters, when adamant scales break his sword and claws shatter his shield, he throws himself at the winged serpent, letting it coil about him and grappling it in turn. Fangs strike at him again and again, piercing flesh and armor both, before he winds his arms around its jaws and holds them shut.

It hisses through clenched teeth about failures, his and Tim's both. He holds its jaws shut, and sings of two ships tossed in a maelstrom, anchored to each other, weathering the storm.

It hisses, venom dripping from its furious curled lips, about abandonment and betrayal. He holds its jaws shut, and sings about two robins, flying with an olive branch held aloft between them.

It hisses to him of ice unending, frozen hearts, shattered trust. He holds its jaws shut, and sings about the steady radiating warmth of a hearth, of a hug, of a new dawn. Of new beginnings.

He rests his forehead on the dragon's growling snout, and sings, "Come home with me. Come home to me. Tim, I love you. Tim, Tim, Tim."

The beast shudders and shivers. And starts to break apart.

The crumbling wings buffet and beat at Dick even as they begin to crack and collapse. Dick lowers his head and holds on tighter.

The massive coiled tail squeezes around Dick convulsively, thrashing and withering. Dick's ribs crack, but he holds on tighter.

Scales etched with Tim's regrets flake off and fall away, like a tree shedding razor edged leaves in autumn. Dick closes his eyes as they kiss and cut his already tattered skin, but just holds on tighter.

Eventually, the violent disintegration comes to an end, and all goes still and quiet.

Save for a familiar shape shaking and weeping in Dick's arms.

Dick opens his eyes, blinking away sweat and blood just to be sure. But yes. It's him. Blue eyes reddened with tears, staring in horror at the ragged torn-up mess of his older brother, come to rescue him.

"Tim," Dick sighs, bones papier-mâché from relief. And exhaustion. "Timmy. Thank god."

"Dick," Tim cries out, gripping him tightly in distress. He lets go immediately at Dick's wince, and tries to pull away. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I'm - your wounds, we have to - "

Dick doesn't let him move an inch. "Shhhhhh," he breathes. "It's a dream, don't worry about it." Tim wriggles in protest at first, determinedly attempting to staunch some of the heavier bleeding, but Dick just holds him tighter. "Please, Timmy," he begs. "Please. Just let me."

Tim's breath hitches, then he wraps his arms around Dick just as hard as Dick is squeezing him, strong and anchoring. Dick's own breath shudders on the edge of a whine, and he buries his nose in Tim's hair.

-----

"Missed you," he whispers hoarsely, several minutes later.

Tim lifts his face from where he's been leaking a silent wet spot into Dick's collarbone.

"Missed you, too," he whispers back, as if they're sharing secrets and might be overheard.

Then Tim hesitates, before setting his mouth firmly. He meets Dick's gaze, and there's a fierce light in his still reddened eyes that transfixes Dick. He almost lost this. He almost lost Tim - so many times, more than he probably even knows about. He never wants to look away.

"And I love you, too, you know. That's never changed. It never will change." His brow is furrowed intently, gaze searching Dick's, like he can find and burn away any hint of doubt or disbelief.

"I know," Dick murmurs, warm down to his battered toes. Tim's alive. Tim's going to wake up, and keep living. Tim loves him, and forgives him, and still trusts him more than anyone else. "I do know. I - "

He releases one arm from its death grip, because he can no longer resist the urge to cup Tim's face, stroke a thumb across his cheek. Tim closes his eyes briefly as he covers Dick's hand with his, leaning into it, brows still drawn together. Like he's in pain, even though all the dings and scratches are on Dick, not him.

Dick's heart seizes.

He dips down, to the impossibly inviting bow of Tim's mouth, and kisses him. At Tim's small, quiet gasp, he gentles further, catching Tim's lips, pulling the full lower curve between his own in a soft tug. To his delight, Tim follows him, chasing his mouth, and they share the sweet cling and press, back and forth.

-----

Dick's wounds are somehow all still present upon waking. Magic, ugh, such a pain. The resulting frenzy of medical attention and getting bundled into another bed - too far away from Tim - like he's one foot through death's door isn't exactly fun, either.

(But still. Well worth it, for that first moment Tim's eyes flutter open and hazily lock on his. The world can keep spinning, now that Dick knows Tim is safe.)

As it turns out, Tim's recollection of what happened inside his own soul is equally hazy.

He remembers enough to melt bonelessly into Dick's chest when Dick sneaks over to share his bed, which dissolves the hard knot of worried tension in Dick's chest that he wouldn't remember anything, that he'd be back to subtle distance and awkward texts and not even feeling comfortable enough to share that he likes men, and Dick. Isn't sure he could have handled that.

So he ignores his aching ribs and multiple lacerations and puncture wounds and curls around Tim with his whole body, warmth and gratitude suffusing every aching muscle.

Tim...doesn't seem to remember the kiss. Which. Is a shame.

But Dick remembers it. Every moment is burned into him like the most intimate pyrography. That will have to be enough, until he can make it happen again.

(Tim's boyfriend doesn't stand a chance.)

#dicktim #gerryrigged #gerry words #the spindly tower was a lie #this poison/spell is SUPER mean #anyway I started jotting this at like 11 pm #thinking lol I will scribble three sketchy paragraphs max and then I MUST to bed #it is now #almost morning hghkldjkfls #gripped by the NO MUST GET A WHOLE DRAFT DOWN demon whole-ass #why do I do this to myself gdit I was ALREADY tired #ohhhh this is going to need serious editing if I ever turn back to it hghkljdkf #anyway if you noticed that technically Tim waking up DID happen after TLK #then hee hee :3 we are clink-clinking our wine glasses in commiseration

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bruciemilf · 1 year

Note

I honestly think that for Gotham criminals—regular criminals, drug lords, pedos, abusers, etc—getting caught by a vigilante with Bat in their name is the best case scenario at this point. Like, at least with Batman, Batwoman and Black Bat, you at least know you're making it out of it alive. If they've had a bad day, maybe you'll end up with a few broken bones or be sore for a month or two, but you'll recover.

If you're caught by Red Hood when he's had a bad day? Say goodbye to your life. If Red Robin hasn't made a singular smart comment during your fight and you want to get out of this without lifelong injuries, just turn yourself in right then and there. Robin chooses violence on the regular, you never know if he's going to be normal or downright vicious, and it's best not to take the risk without a reasonable vigilante there. If you're fighting an angry Nightwing and there's nobody to hold him back, it's best you start saying your prayers so maybe someone will show up and pull him off you at some point .

For Rogues, see, there's safe Rogues. If you're one of the Sirens and catch a Bird having a bad day, the worst they'll do is break down crying when faced with the prospect of having to fight you. Selina has been faced with countless of these breakdowns over the years and is the most equipped to handle them, Harley can distract and knows calming techniques, Ivy's easy to rant to. If you're Harvey, or Oswald, or even just a generally harmless Rogue, as long as you aren't doing something horrible, they'll leave you be. If you're literally any other Rogue—Bane, Black Mask, Riddler, Scarecrow, the Joker, etc, be thankful if you make it back to Arkham with more than eight bones intact.

ESPECIALLY if they let you have the first hit. That means they can claim provocation when they're standing over your barely-breathing body. They don't get into as much trouble with Batman if they can claim self defense.

Bruce, Cass, and Kate are the only ones with defined no-kill rules. The rest abide by it for peace sake for the most part, but there are always exceptions, and you don't want to be one of them.

OH GOSH YESSSSS

Let's be honest, - the rogues? Family friends. The Sirens are family PERIOD, and Harvey's their second honorary father after Clark, courtesy to Bruce. Also, kids tend to assimilate traits from people they look up to/love.

Robins and Rogues, tale as old as time.

When he's sad, Tim will flop himself over Bruce like a bunny. " Tell me a joke, Brucie," and of course a tired but fond sigh leaves Bruce's lips. " What do you call a vegan BBQ?"

" What?"

" A funeral."

Tim rolls his eyes like Harley, too.

Cass learns the sophisticated art of tantrums and pouting from Selina; Crossed arms, bratty eye roll, so much sass she's sizzling. Bruce has a Sigh jar, now.

Damian picks up an interest in plan and promptly transforms the manor in his very own botanical garden.

Alfred doesn't mind. The air is fresher, smells cleaner, they look beautiful againts their monochromatic palette, and everyone must take care of them. No exceptions.

A breath of relief unlocks Damian's stiff frame. " Persephone smiles upon us."

" Persephone? Where did you learn that, habibi?"

" Aunt Pamela said Greek Mythology belongs to lesbians, so I can't divulge."

Caught between " Jason hits Bruce with every single legal technicality Harvey thought him to evade getting benched" and " Jason accidentally calls Bruce pet names Spanish or Italian when he's distracted."

" My alma can yo- SHIT,"

" GUYS, HE DID IT AGAIN!"

Also, there's a difference between murder and killing; Bruce won't weep after monsters, that's for damn sure. Which gets him questioning gazes from the GCPD.

" Do you know how many people your buddies kill?"

" Do YOU?"

#asks #batfam #bruce wayne #batdad #batfamily #writing #jason todd #cassandra cain #damian wayne #tim drake

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arrowmaker15 · 1 year

Text

Headcanon: I feel like Jason Todd would be the unlikely supportive sibling/friend. Like any problem anyone has in the BatFamily, he's right there to help.

Like, let's say Dick is having a bad day. Dick and Babs got into an argument, and Jason notices that Dick is in a bad mood. Head down, no jokes whatsoever. Jason being Jason, decides to cheer him up by taking Dick to a circus and talking the manager into letting Dick perform. It cheers him up instantly.

Tim being Tim, having been up for the better part of two weeks living off of pure coffee and adrenaline is wobbly, has bags deeper than the Grand Canyon under his eyes, despite being told by everyone to sleep, is working in his apartment. Jason hears about this and talks Tim into letting him take over while Tim gets some sleep. Neither of them ever mention Tim sleeping on Jason's shoulder after watching Frozen.

Damian is having trouble in school. He's the outcast, the black sheep of the classroom and is having trouble making friends so he is getting bullied, but he has been told he can't fight back. Jason hears about this and talks to Damian, telling him he can't cripple the guy, but a few bruises won't hurt. Damian doesn't get bullied anymore, and the victims of the bullies sit with him at lunch.

Cass is having trouble communicating with everyone due to her upbringing. Jason finds her sulking on a building one night and approaches her, using perfect ASL to speak to her. She's surprised but she responds in ASL also. The meeting on the rooftop becomes multiple meetings during the day and at night, Jason teaching her how to write then to speak. Everyone (except Jason) was surprised when Cass gave her input on the situation, in fluent English, during the next all hands on deck night.

Jason visits Barbara one night needing something decrypted only to see her staring up at her batsuit from her wheelchair. Instead of getting the device decrypted, he clocks her off and tells everyone to talk to Tim for tech help, then he spends the rest of the night hanging around Barbara, talking to her like he did when he was Robin. She didn't even glance at her batsuit for the next week.

Jason runs into Stephanie, literally, while on patrol. When he sees her appearance, which is not great at the time, he asks what's wrong. Apparently, not only did her father break out of prison but her mother is trying to get her to come home and talk to her dad which was staying at her house. Now she had nowhere to sleep, she only had her suit to wear, and she was slightly scared. Jason, without hesitation, offered a place to stay at his safehouse. Well, not really offered, but dragged her to his safehouse, tossed one of his hoodies towards her to sleep in, and forced her to lay down in his bed to sleep while he took the couch. If her crashing in his safehouse when she was too tired to go all the way back home and him losing a hoodie everytime it happened became a regular occurrence, nobody had to know.

Duke, being the only one that patrolled during the day, naturally felt like an outsider in the BatFamily. He constantly stayed silent during family meetings and only spoke to them if required. Until Duke woke up one morning to find Jason eating cereal in his apartment, wearing his uniform except the helmet. Jason went on patrol with Duke that day, despite Duke's protests. It became a regular occurrence after awhile. One day every week, Jason would spend the whole day hanging out with Duke during the day and they bonded, a lot. Duke spoke up during meetings and didn't feel like an outsider since one of the originals accepted him. He still laughs his ass off every single time a criminal sees the Red Hood in the DAYTIME because their faces are priceless.

Bonus: On the bad days where he wakes up from nightmares or goes deep into self-loathing, distancing himself from everyone, the BatFamily take turns in roping him into activities to distract him. On special days like his birthday or the day he died, they all at once get him back to the manor and they cancel patrol to be there. Jason appreciates this, but doesn't voice it. Ever. He's too proud for that.

#jason todd #duke thomas #stephanie brown #dick grayson #damian wayne #dc comics #tim drake #cassandra cain #headcanons #barbara gordon

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vermillioncrown · 7 months

Text

ands snippet: duck tolling and retrieving

as teased yesterday, the snippet on how vivienne meets tim, and how tim gets involved with the bats in this 'verse. tim accidentally noses his way into bat business and makes a mess. vivienne is the collateral and is not happy about it.

(tim is 11, jason is 13, dick is 18, bruce is early 30s and ros&vi are mid 30s)

if you guys spot cursed aughties teen fashion/styling choices -> @rozaceous and i made choices okay

===

In a rush of sudden, sobering clarity, Vivienne stands up from the table. "I need to make a call." She glares down at the preteen across the table and adds, "Don't run. You won't like it if I have to chase you down again."

Her captive audience nods, long bangs flopping comically with his vigorous motion. Wide baby blue eyes, looking at most 100 lbs sopping wet, still clutching his skateboard in a death grip—Timothy Jackson Drake would pass as a commonplace patron of Robinson Park. Innocuous. Benign. But the trouble he's caused her over the past month…

Right. That's why it was on sight for her as she was driving off for lunch break. But it's also a reminder that she doesn't often let her temper get the best of her, despite the naysayers at the office. She's curt and all business, and the type of work that's under her purview doesn't tolerate carelessness. Every action is carefully considered and executed to the best of her ability.

And this fucking teenybopper, this little skater boy, almost ruined everything.

Even so, her reaction was admittedly…rash.

"So, I might have done something rash," she says as such to Ros as soon as her girlfriend picks up the phone.

"You’re lucky I’m in between clients and you have ten minutes until I’m at Marius’s place.” Despite the snappy comment, Ros isn’t mad. Little chuckles come out naturally with her exhales as she walks. “Which closet do we need to clear out now? Can you fit everything into the car?”

“What? I’m not keeping a child in a closet!”

“—what?”

“—huh?”

Vivienne stops. Finds herself at a loss for words with the complete overshoot of the conversation’s trajectory.

“Go on��you have me piqued. Why do you have to put a child in a closet?” She pauses for dramatic effect, letting Vivienne stew. “Which, by the way, is not where we put children.”

“Okay, this phone call was…kinda rash, then,” Vivienne admits.

“Well, you’ve got me now, no take backs.”

“Okay, fine—I saw him.”

“Him?”

“The Termite.”

“…no. Nooooo, Vi, don’t—he—he’s still whole and healthy, yes?!”

“I’m already in a fucking metric ton of hot flaming garbage, I’m not adding homicide into the mess!” Vivienne hisses. She glances back through the crack of the door, view to the table clear where Drake—the Termite of her life, as they’ve been calling him for the last three weeks of this debacle—is still sitting like someone glued him to his seat. “…it could be aggravated assault if his parents catch wind.”

“Vi, I was joking, please tell me you’re joking.”

“He’s fine. Just rumpled from some. Um. Manhandling.”

Ros doesn’t say anything for a minute. But Vivienne knows her well enough to know that she knows Vivienne well enough to know exactly what happened.

Weeks of internal investigation, legal red tape, forced paid leave, all devices checked and wiped…it all forms the toxic legal mire that’s export control and proprietary information being so blatantly compromised. Important projects due for a midterm review halted. Possible lawsuits if collaboration was involved with certain data. The budget—

Forget the corporate throat-slitting some of the other D-Suites and ladder climbers are trying to leverage with this incident—annoying but ultimately, being the equivalent of Lucius’s favored workplace poodle means he’ll swat away all detractors. She won’t lose her position and it’s not like she cares to climb any higher.

But the indignity of the damage done from the harebrained plot of a fucking kid, to her—

That he targeted her and her device for some incomprehensible reason and fucking managed—

It’s like someone knocking on her front door, her opening to answer it in good faith, and they rush in to pee on the carpet before anyone would have the wherewithal to stop them.

What is anyone supposed to do in that situation? How is someone supposed to feel after that?!

She saw him ditching class at the skate park, like he didn’t have a single worry in his little puffball bobblehead brain, and admittedly lost her shit. He’s lucky she only scruffed him—she could have strung him up by his oversized crew neck sweater sleeves and tied him into a knapsack instead.

…a fucking emo kid skater boy, with the quintessential TWLOHA crew neck, managed to hack into her fucking laptop. The audacity.

“…That’s aggravated assault, yes.” Ros’s voice breaks through the current wave of anger.

Vivienne lets out a frustrated whine in response. They both let the situation sink in for a moment as they consider their next moves. It takes more than a minute but the mutual silence is productive.

“Well, he must be terrified out of his goddamn mind right now,” Ros brings the conversation back, tone forcibly casual.

“You’d immediately fall for his ‘I’m baby’ wet eyes if you were here,” Vivienne says. The quipping grounds her, brings her back to focused assessment.

Ros laughs and it makes her feel better immediately. “Considering Kevin fears for his immortal toad-shaped soul every time you breathe around him and you actually like him, the Termite might count himself lucky to escape with life and limb intact.”

Huh. That…might be the play here.

“Of course, just a talking-to, and then I’ll send him on his way,” Vivienne promises. “Being that he nearly got away with what he did, I don’t think he understands that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. It’s only fair that someone tells him.”

“Yeah, it could be worse next time—skipping grades straight to Yale,” Ros agrees.

“All Yale, no Yob.” Vivienne’s chest feels lighter. It’ll be fine. “Okay, thanks for picking up. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Won’t be too late. Oh, and I’m sending the cavalry with the expensive lawyers your way.”

“Oh Jesus, no—”

“—bye!” And Ros hangs up.

Vivienne looks at her phone. She has…twenty minutes to an hour to impart the fear of god and federal-level criminal repercussions without outwardly threatening a twelve-year-old. In a public, if secluded, restaurant.

At least she asked for private seating?

Whatever, she’s worked with less. Vivienne rolls her neck, hears the satisfying crack, breathes in deep, and puts her Workplace Smile on before making her way back to where she’s left the Termite.

===

“You vibrating the car isn’t going to make us go faster,” Dick calls out peevishly. “Are you auditioning for the Flash?”

“Shut up, Dickiebird. I’m worried about Aunt Vi,” Jason snaps back. He does stop shaking his leg, though.

Dick’s worried, too, which is why he’s trying to concentrate on the road—traffic picks up earlier on Fridays, and he doesn’t need to add a car accident on top of extracting Aunt Vi from a possible lawsuit, on top of the information security compromise she’s currently dealing with. Jason’s obnoxious frosted tips keep distracting him in the periphery every time he turns his head, looking out the windows like he can mentally will the car to teleport.

Why the hell did Aunt Vi egg Bruce on to let Jason do that to himself? And why the hell did Aunt Ros not stop either of them?

…if Aunt Vi goes to jail for murdering a kid, justified anger or not, none of these questions will be answered, and though Aunt Ros is a deft hand with Bruce she’s not the one that wrangles the Batman.

Jokes aside, he’s not as worried as Jason because Aunt Vi’s not the type to get violent, even if her demeanor is like a psychic aura that inflicts fear based on proximity. It’s not like she beats people up, even at her workplace where her subordinates scuttle like little bugs around her. She doesn’t even swat at Bruce when he’s pissing her off, despite having the stones to jab her finger into his chest plate as she reams him out for fucking up the Batmobile’s suspensions again.

But she’s usually in control or a position of power. She’s never been made to lose her cool; at least, not while Dick’s been around to see or hear about it. This is the first time she’s been brought this low—even when Bruce was bleeding out all over her that night, Aunt Ros performing first aid on panicked autopilot, Aunt Vi was coolly deciding their next move to get Bruce to safety unnoticed. She had no qualms plucking the control fob for the Batmobile from him and told him to, “Sit the hell down, boy—that car’s more mine than His Dark Grace’s, with the amount of man-hours I’ve put in.”

(And he did sit the hell down at that tone.)

Little Timothy Drake did a number on her; Dick can’t help but feel guilty for not nipping it properly in the bud when they first met. He’s still not sure what to make of the kid. It’d be easy to write him off as an obsessed thrill-seeker, one of those nuts on the conspiracy boards he checks every so often…but what he did goes beyond the risk and effort for those types. From Aunt Vi’s recounting and Bruce’s investigation, it’s most likely that Timothy swapped her USB dongle for a fake one—a ducky—when he was visiting Drake Industries on the day she was meeting with the Drakes themselves. From that, he brute-forced connected to her laptop and was able to hold her device hostage unless she heard him out.

Aunt Vi’s never the type to let herself get pressed. She immediately shut it all down and turned her everything over to WayneTech’s IT department, which then got their internal affairs department involved. If only that was the end of that—she explained, with forced patience to Jason’s naive questioning, that she might also be in trouble with federal regulations because of the type of projects she has her hands in and what data might be compromised from the incident. And then because she’s private sector, IP laws and proprietary rights might be involved as well. So, the legal department was now involved as well as law enforcement.

“But you didn’t give the hacker anything?!” Jason was indignant on her behalf.

“Doesn’t matter. Compromised is compromised. I’d be facing federal prison if I didn’t report it and something got traced back to me.” She looked exhausted, despite being two weeks in on her forced paid leave while Lucius Fox put out fires on her behalf. “This is serious shit, Jason. Can’t just yell or punch it away.”

It took a few days for Bruce and Dick, off the books, to establish with high confidence—based on scant security footage, careful questioning, and timetable corroborations—that a kid literally walked into the meeting room of his parents’ company, plugged something in, and walked right out. The laptop has already been scrapped by IT so they couldn’t trace the connection to confirm. But there was enough circumstantial evidence, along with hints that Timothy knew their identities when they met, that this was some desperate attempt to get into contact with Gotham’s nocturnal denizens.

He sure has what he wanted, now. Bruce looked into everything—him, his parents, their dealings, contacts, family friends, family history, his nannies, hired help. Janet and Jack Drake, with Drake Industries in a bit of hot water, started arranging discreet shipping services for certain families with points of contact in Gotham. Likely, something about that situation spooked the kid into asking for help in all the wrong ways.

Thing is—Aunt Vi’s collateral. There are a few things she’ll admit to hating with a passion: unnecessary collateral (with that, wastefulness), ungratefulness, and cockroaches dead or alive. What she’ll never admit to hating: Dick’s hair (he’s working on it, it just needs a little time), being caught off-guard, and needing to ask for help. Here, she’s their collateral, caught off-guard in the worst way, she needs their help, and this could have all been avoided if they took a direct approach earlier. Aunt Vi doesn’t do upset well, so she gets angry. And she doesn’t like getting angry, so it makes her angrier.

She doesn’t have an outlet right now. All she has had to do for two weeks was to sit with her anger and think. She’s really good at thinking hard, and even better at acting decisively when she’s done.

Oh jeez…last Bruce heard from Aunt Ros, the kid’s still alive. Dick prays it stays that way.

===

They pull into the valet parking lot of the restaurant given by the address. Both him and Jason give it a once over, make eye contact, and come to the same conclusion: it’s too nice of a place for Aunt Vi to lose her shit in. Homicide is looking less likely with each passing minute. As for Timothy’s mental state—jury’s still out on that one.

It takes a bit of name-dropping to get the maître d' to lead them to the private dining parlor where Aunt Vi and her victim are seated. The main dining room isn’t too busy at the moment and none of the patrons look perturbed. That means no yelling or hysterics thus far. When they reach the parlor and the maître d' smartly dismisses himself to get more waitstaff, Dick can finally see the situation. Jason sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Early dismissal today?” Aunt Vi dabs the corners of her mouth with the serviette before facing them. Yikes—she has that smile on. “You two must be hungry, then. Come sit; keep Little Timothy company.”

Dick doesn’t know a single kid over the age of seven that would tolerate being called ‘Little’ the way Aunt Vi does. Contrary to that, Luke’s his age and bitches non-stop about Aunt Vi condescending him, yet he’s the first to ask “how high?” if she orders everyone to jump (he also takes everything she says as gospel, but that’s neither here nor there). In the same way, Timothy looks like a bug subjected to the sun under a magnifying glass, writhing and dying under her considering gaze. Not that he’s actually dying at the table—it’s just the terrified misery on his face, and the way he squirms without showing signs of wanting to bolt. It’s like he can’t bring himself to even think of fleeing.

Aunt Vi, on the other hand, is back to her regular polish and cool affect. Lipstick without a single smudge, hair pinned, business wear tailored to the millimeter. She looks untouchable and far from the wanness of just a few days ago. That smile, in particular, means nothing good for the recipient. It’s not a happy smile; in fact, it’s not a smile at all—the expression is the socially acceptable version of a predator baring their fangs before going for the throat.

Nonetheless, he and Jason immediately take their seats. It should seem like the two of them are flanking Timothy on Aunt Vi’s behalf, but it feels more like ‘her half of the table’ and ‘their half of the table.’ Dick catches her once-over of both him and Jason, the micro-expressions of judgment before flattening, and then she reaches over to baby Jason.

“You’ll like this,” she says like it’s a foregone conclusion, neatly cutting up a portion of the fish on her plate and placing it on Jason’s. “If not, there’s another dish that’ll sit well with you until dinner.”

“I’m not being starved,” Jason protests, but he immediately picks up his fork and eats what she puts on his plate.

“And you”—Dick freezes when she turns to him—”eat a fruit and get some sunlight. Did you find your true calling as a ninja turtle up in New York?” She says ‘New York’ with the typical Gothamite sneer that’s now noticeable after being back in town.

Her comment, however, makes his face immediately heat up out of his control. But he still tries to do what he came here for; if it wasn't for Bruce's literal cracked ribs, Dick wouldn't bother being 'delegated'. “Uh, Aunt Vi, B sent us to help you out?” The way his voice cracks at the end makes him want to wince.

Jason snickers and Dick kicks him from across the table.

“No need. It’s Little Timothy that needs your help, rather,” she says, turning her gaze onto the kid in question. He looks at them with the comically bug-eyed expression that combines the remnant of fear, incredulity, and quiet awe. “If you’ll tell them what you told me?” She gives him an expectant look.

Timothy rattles off on command. Thankfully, they’ve been looking into the Drakes recently, otherwise the deluge of information that spills out of him would be a mess to keep up with. Most of what he says has been covered by their investigation, some bits add more context, and it turns out the Drakes’ lives are in more danger than their outside perspective showed.

And damn, does this kid get around.

“Very good,” Aunt Vi stops him. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands,” she tells Dick—who feels himself automatically straightening his posture—and then looks down at her watch. “Lunch ran later than I wanted. Make sure Little Timothy gets home. He could do with more supervision.” She gets up from the table and pushes in her chair, grabbing her handbag from the console table by the parlor door. “Feel free to order more if you’re hungry, it’s on my tab. And Little Timothy”—the kid snaps up at the address—”remember to tell your parents.”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am!”

The three of them wait until the clacking of her heels disappear once far enough into the main dining space, and both Dick and Jason turn towards Timothy. He shrinks back at the sudden attention.

“I’m really sorry,” he blurts out, looking miserable and contrite. “Ms. Yang said I caused a lot of trouble that could have made things worse for me, and I really didn’t mean to—”

“—kid, it’s fine—”

“—I just needed help,” he ends his verbal vomit on that browbeaten note.

Dick and Jason give each other discreet looks.

“We know, we’re gonna help,” Jason says. “It’s taken a bit of time, but we have a plan, okay?” He then peruses the spread on their table. “We should get dessert.”

“I’m down,” Dick says with a shrug. “And then let’s get you home, Timothy?”

“…Tim,” he mumbles.

“Tim—pick whatever dessert you want, and I’ll take you home, alright?” Dick coaxes the kid. “Don’t want your parents to worry.”

Jason perks up. “Right…wait, what did Aunt Vi want with your parents?” He gives Dick a quick look. “Thought she just told us to ‘handle it.’”

The distress that was slowly ebbing away with Aunt Vi’s departure suddenly wells up again on Tim’s face. He looks completely beside himself.

“She, uh, some—something about an internship? At WanyeTech.” Tim doesn’t look like he knows enough details to explain. “Which is really cool, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know what—” he clams up again. It’s apparent he has no idea what to make of anything and looks to be giving himself a huge headache with trying to detangle his thoughts. “Aren’t I in a huge boatload of trouble? I already messed up with the laptop, what if I mess up on this internship?” His hands grab at his hair. “I don’t think I’m allowed to say no if I’m being offered an internship like that?”

“Sixth graders don’t get offered internships,” Dick says slowly. “And why do you even know about them?”

“My parents talk about them a lot,” Tim explains, tone still miserable and panicked. “And I know—so maybe I’m still in trouble and Ms. Yang is going to set me up to get in trouble because she already knows—”

Jason’s expression says it all: ‘Forget I asked.’

Dick agrees. Whatever Aunt Vi did to lecture poor Tim Drake—she now lives as a rent-free boogeyman in his mind. Come what may, that’s not his business anymore. As long as Tim’ll make it life and limb intact, that’s all Dick is able to handle.

===

end summary:

tldr vivienne points out exactly the shitload of trouble tim's hacking could have gotten him into, especially because he got caught. she's also dissecting his whole plan and ripping it (and his fragile preteen ego) to shreds the entire time.

bc tim actually is a smart freak and vivienne's been around enough of these smart freaks to know you can't ignore them, the 'internship' is more like summer camp + keeping tim out of trouble + her fixating on his thought processes and going "no. wrong. do better."

the hacking investigation does go away, was hairy for a bit

he ends up following her around like a little duck, coupled with the ducky and his last name, ros nicknames him 'duckie', he doesn't end up caping in this 'verse. runs comms and ops, tho

dick to luke fox: lol aunt vi's replaced you

dick, later: i did not mean to make a 17yo start beefing with an 11yo

#verm bits #on ands #phd-verse #folie a deux #roz is the one that decided to give jason frosted tips #every one of these teenage boys will go through a phase and there will be photos to blackmail them later #dick has an unkempt mullet rn and ros and vi bitch about it at night #''that fucking hair'' ''i want to shave him'' ''he can do what he wants but the split ends--that boy...''#it's great bc everything about ands is an inversion to the main 'verses #or there are overarching bits that show up one way or another in the different AUs #korvin gets tim w a ducky #tim gets vivienne w a ducky #vivienne makes it an awkward lunch #vs korvin's awkward birthday lunch

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galkyrie · 2 years

Note

Every time we touch has me WEAK i want a full fic, i will never get sick of this tbh

Honestly how may scenarios can they UST through before it boils over? We're gonna find out together anon:

PT 5

Tim wasn't avoiding Jason. It was just-

Gotham was a big city. It wasn't like they saw each other all the time normally- not that this wasn't normal behavior for him, because again, he wasn't avoiding Jason.

He was just busy. Really.

There was a gang war brewing between some of the more established rogues that was boiling over into his territory that he was having to keep a close eye on, which combined with his regular cases and teamwork and job at W.E-

Yeah, it was pretty standard to not see him for weeks without having to resort to avoiding the man. Easy to convince himself he wasn't doing it on purpose.

Well, it was easy until he was definitely, for sure going to see him and the pit in his stomach erupted in butterflies at the thought.

It was a glancing blow- one he managed to mostly dodge, but with Fries 'close enough' meant at least a mild case of hypothermia. He's probably a bit more aggressive about making sure the man won't be able to slip his bonds before GCPD can collect him as a result.

"You look a little cold, Red Robin." Victor smirked as he watched Tim secure the device with trembling hands. He didn't bother with the banter this time- not about to give the man the satisfaction of hearing his teeth chatter.

He knew he was in trouble when he was three buildings away from the scene- the shivering wasn't stopping even as he got further away from the source of the cold and his limbs were slowly getting clumsier. He swallowed his pride and opened the comm link when he almost stumbled off that third roof.

"O, I'm gonna have to call it tonight, Fries got a hit in."

"Was it a direct hit? Does someone need to monitor you?"

"I don't think so? Once I'm outta the suit I should be fine with standard procedure-" the thermal emergency blanket he pulled from his utility belt wouldn't be much help until after he removed the part of the suit currently chilling his skin, but-

He was ten minutes out from any clothing caches he'd tucked around the city and accessing them from the rooftops was a no-go with his currently unreliable muscles.

Tim bit back a groan and got to work on unarming the safety catches on the top half of his suit- a task proving herculean as tremors began wracking his body. Eventually he's beat- curled in on himself and clinging to the emergency blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

If he freezes to death in the height of summer he's gonna come back just to haunt Fries. That man thought he was annoying now? he could be so much worse. "On second thought- may need an extraction. Suit's frozen and I c-cant get it-"

"-I've got 'im. ETA is two minutes." Hood interrupted and Tim had to mute his comm in order to let his opinion on that go unheard. It made sense that it was him, both logistically and in the 'pretty sure the universe hates me' sense. He hunkered down against a wall, still trying at the frozen-shut catch gracelessly, knowing if he could just get it off-

"Easy, Birdy. I've got you." The modulated voice rang out as the man landed to his right, immediately crouching to take a look at what he was struggling with. Tim stopped, fighting to keep his shivering under control as he let Jason eye the frozen patch of Kevlar and come up with a course of action.

"Sorry 'bout this Babybird," Jason eventually murmured as he pulled the kris from its sheath, leaning over Tim's frame and bringing the blade to the stuck catch. "You can afford a new suit, at least-"

"Wait, don't-" Tim's eyes didn't leave those hands as the blade sliced through the weave- and the embedded booby trap- altogether. He flinched, then blinked down as nothing happened. "Huh. S'posed to have knockout gas. I guess I need to adjust the safety measures to withstand a lower temperature. The compound Freeze used was obviously newer- the reaction is stronger and longer lasting-"

"-That's what you're focusing on right now?" Not even the Hood could obscure the incredulity from his tone.

"Y-yeah." He answered simply.

Of course he's focusing on fixing his suit and getting his hands on the weapon Freeze shot him with to test- the alternative would be to focus on the fact that Jason was currently undressing him. He was freezing to death in the middle of summer- he didn't need to add the risk of spontaneous combustion to the mix.

Jason let out a hiss at the angry red mark blooming across his torso once he'd sliced through enough of the suit to take a look. "Shit, Babybird-" Tim pulled the emergency blanket around his torso, closing his eyes and willing his hands to keep still, "-here." A heavy, warm weight surrounded his frame. He cracked an eye open and frowned down at the brown leather jacket.

"It's summer- why are you wearing this?"

"Really? You wanna give me shit about that right now?"

"You could get heatstroke."

"I don't think my thermoregulation is what we should be focused on right now-" Jason huffed, making it clear even through the Hood that he was giving him a look as he zipped it closed. It was warm- of course it was, it was summer and Jason had been patrolling in it-

It smelled like him. He snaked his arms up from his side and tugged the collar up around his chin.

"O, I'm taking him in. I'll keep you updated on his status-" Jason crouched again as he spoke, gathering him up in his arms and taking off.

At least it wasn't a princess carry this time. He shut his eyes and focused on staying conscious- Jason would get him somewhere safe.

Tim comes to in an unfamiliar room surrounded by a familiar smell. Gunpowder and leather and tobacco with an undercurrent of white tea scented soap- Jason. His eyes fluttered open and oh- the warmth surrounding him was Jason's arms, holding him tight to his chest. His own arms had wrapped around his middle, keeping the line of his body firmly against Jason's.

And God, there was a lot of body there, holding him close and safe and warm-

The noise he made as he interrupted a line of thought he could not afford to go down while pressed so close was mortifying.

"You were right," Jason murmured once he noticed Tim was awake, "B got Freeze's gun in the lab- it's a new compound. Gets colder and stays cold longer than the last one-" Tim could get used to waking up in Jason's arms being told he was right. That belonged right up there with his top five fantasies about the man-

"W'happened?" Tim asked Jason's shoulder, not daring to meet his eyes at the moment.

"Your temp kept goin' down- even after gettin' the frozen part of your suit off. Turns out the compound aerosolizes on impact- your suit was covered in a thin layer." Tim hummed to indicate he was listening and definitely not reciting the periodic table backwards between counting up to ten thousand by prime numbers, "Good thing your suit covers so much of your skin or we'd be having this conversation at the 'Cave."

"This is much better," Tim murmured before he could stop himself, "sorry if I was a bad patient." He knew from experience he wasn't the most cooperative when largely incoherent-

Jason laughed, a rumbling and throaty noise he felt as much as heard. He fought back a shudder definitely not related to his temperature. "You cooperated fine- more'n happy to be fed some tea and dragged to bed."

Oh god, that definitely didn’t sound great- hopefully he wasn't too cooperative. Depending on which point Jason had pulled his own shirt off, it could go either way.

"I'm probably good to go now, yeah?" He hadn't so much as made a move to extricate himself from his arms- or unwind his own from around him. He should- he should definitely get on that.

"Just- one thing first," Jason leaned over him to reach for something, partially pressing him into the mattress as he did. Wow, okay- another thing to put up there on the fantasy list. Or another thing to not think about right now. Tim held his breath, watching Jason's hand brush his hair behind his ear and praying the pounding of his heart wasn't as audible as it felt-

It was all he could do not to jolt away at the cold probe pressing into his ear.

Oh, he was taking his temperature. That made much more sense than what he’d thought. It was- it's not like he'd expected something else- hoped for, maybe, but-

Tim scrambled for wherever he had left his dignity, dropping his arms from the loose hold he still had around his waist and moving to grip the thermometer by himself.

"I can do that." Jason let go easily and Tim shut his eyes, focusing on breathing and not the warmth radiating off the man still at his side. Not touching now- much better for his sanity. He was already missing it.

"Beautiful," Jason hummed over the beep, eyes focused on the readout when Tim risked a glance, "98.9. Your temperature's been stable for an hour. I'll let O. know you're outta the woods-"

He did sit up at that.

"I've been out for an hour?!" It’d been almost dawn when he’d apprehended Freeze, he was definitely late for work-

"Three, actually." Make that very late for work. Jason grinned, moving to lean against his headboard. Surprisingly nice for a safehouse- and also not the thing to focus on right now. Probably better than letting his eyes follow the drag of the blanket as it slid down his expansive chest, which-

He tore his eyes away and scrambled out of the bed. Oh thank God, he was still in his own underwear. Small mercies.

"Well- sorry I took up most of your morning. Hopefully I didn't mess anything up too badly-" there were clothes, considerately folded on the dresser that he just decided were his at this point and yanked on. The shirt hung loose, exposing his collarbone and sliding off his shoulder on one side. The less said about the pants and however many times it took to roll them so they wouldn't drag the better.

Jason was smirking at him like he knew something he didn't and his money was on him saying something stupid in the span of time it took for him to go from disoriented to unconscious. He wasn't keen on sticking around to find out. "Thanks for the assist-"

"I can give ya a ride home, y'know." Jason said easily, relaxed in the face of Tim's frenetic energy. “You’re gonna have a hell of a time gettin’ a cab to come to this neighborhood, even if it’s daytime.”

"You saved my life," Tim focused on tying the drawstring tight enough to not slide off his hips instead of looking his way, "I can't bum a ride off of you as well."

"You can if I'm offering. So you have two choices- is The Red Hood or some random guy who looks a lot like a grown up Jason Todd taking you home, Prettybird?"

Tim folded his arms over his chest- "The Red Hood is not dropping me off at my building-"

"Great," Jason beamed a grin his way and crawled out of bed himself. Tim averted his eyes, "-now get outta the way, you took my fuckin' clothes and I need to get dressed." Tim beat a hasty retreat to the living room and debated climbing out the fire escape more than he would be willing to admit.

His boots were probably destroyed, though. And Jason and him were definitely not the same size- Tim tugged the shirt up over his shoulder again and resigned himself to his fate.

Jason, of course, only had a bike at this location. And, of course, Tim had no means to get into his apartment in his civilian identity on him since he'd been on patrol. He'd have to be let in.

Tim held on and prayed nobody besides the doorman would see him dropped off in clothes that definitely weren't his by a man who they'd fit very nicely. He was a relatively boring public figure- attempted assassinations or kidnappings notwithstanding- and liked to keep it that way. Jason would be a very good way to get into a lot of trouble- for either of his identities.

With that in mind, he slid from the seat and kept his thanks brief, slipping past the doorman with a nod and not stopping until the penthouse doors slid shut behind him.

He buried his face in his hands and groaned. Damsel seemed pretty damn fitting at this point.

#fic: Every Time We Touch #pt 5 #jaytim #tank jason appreciation squad unite #galkyrie writes #jaytim fanfic

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batstorm93672 · 1 year

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Do I Know You?

~First (Here)~ Next>>>

Damian sat and sighed as he was tied to a chair. Heaven forbid he decides to go to the Cave and only be able to take off his mask before being bombarded by his family.

"Father, what is the meaning of this?"

Batman looked at Damian and furrowed his brow "Why do you keep calling me that, how did you get in here and why are you dressed like Robin?" "I'm your son, I am Robin" "Don't lie!"

"Alright B how about we lay off the kid? Not gonna get anywhere shouting"

Nightwing walked in and handed Damian a cup of water. "Here, don't mind him. We just want to know what's going on"

"Richard you're a part of this trivial thing too? Also did you put anything in the cup?" Nightwing paused and kneeled down "Okay. We just want some answers, number one. How do you know who I am?"

"Tt. Fine I'll play. I'm Damian Wayne-" Damian jerked his head to Batman "-your son and I'm-" He looked back at Nightwing "-your brother. Alongside with Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas and not to mention the million of others father brought in as he is a magnet for taking in children"

Nightwing nodded and took off his mask "Are you a speedster from the future?" "What? Ew, no. I'm Robin" "Listen, you might be getting something confused. There are no more Robins, the last one was Tim. So where did you get the costume?" "Okay hasn't this gone on long enough? Where is Titus or Alfred the cat? Do you need them to help recognize me or something"

Dick raised a brow "I have no idea who those are"

"Tt. This is tiring"

Damian stood up, untied hands and ankles, he rubbed his wrists. "I untied myself about a minute after you tied me, I know your tricks father, you've taught everyone how to escape knots like yours. Try to get a better tactic. As for you Richard, hasn't this gone on long enough?"

Bruce took off his cowl and studied Damian carefully "He may be telling some truth. It's hard to tell, who is your parent?" "Other than you? Talia Al Ghul is my mother"

The two adults looked at each other with wide eyes. "She doesn't have a child. She told me she had a miscarriage" "Do I look like a miscarriage?"

"Dick. Call for Tim and Cass, they may be able to figure out if he's lying. In the meantime I'll look into this kid"

Damian groaned and sat back down. "Can Pennyworth at least come down? I'd enjoy his company"

"N-" "Yeah I'll get him"

Bruce narrowed his eyes making eye contact with Dick, the two had their private conversation internally and while Damian could decipher the gist of it. He didn't want to right now. This is dragging on long enough.

Bruce sighed for like the fifth time "Fine, let him come. He stays here and under surveillance. Understood?" "Hear you clear"

Bruce left and Damian eyed Dick, wouldn't they have stopped by now?

"Richard... are you still joking with me? Hasn't this gone on long enough?"

Dick looked guilty and sad "I'm sorry, but we really don't know you"

Damian looked down, recounting what he just went through moments before showing.

Someone approached him, a lady with a crystal ball typical isn't it.

"Young boy, won't you indulge this old lady?"

"I'm sorry, I can't-"

"Oh please? This is all I ask of you"

Robin nodded and came over, she was an elder and he respects them. Not to mention she would probably insist and Damian would rather not have to do that.

"Come child" Her wrinkled yet soft hands went over his gloves and she closed her eyes, she was wearing a shawl and attire of stars and eyes decorated on the cloth. "I see... you are of a great destiny. Yet though this is apparent, you are deeply troubled with choices. Leading to terrible consequences. Not to mention the loneliness you are faced with, a great destiny yet an even greater shadow. Tell me, the family you surround yourself with, do they truly see you? You have so many doubts and fears, that you will be alone and forgotten by them"

"...That sounds correct, my fears tend to obscure my view of the path ahead. I feel like one day, they will forget me. And that I'll be alone. Sometimes I wish I was forgotten so I could avoid the pain and move on with my choice without feelings" He... didn't mean to say that much, what is happening?

"Then it will be"

"Wha-"

A flash of light, recovering his vision to see no one. The lady was gone.

...Curious, it may be time I go back before they worry.

Damian kept his gaze away from Dick who was talking on the phone.

They... forgot me. They don't know me. It's like I never existed...

#damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #batman #nightwing #mentioned cassandra cain #mentioned alfred pennyworth #mentioned jason todd #mentioned duke thomas #mentioned stephanie brown #mentioned tim drake #mentioned talia al ghul

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dhampiravidi · 8 months

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Owls!OT4

continued from here (moved to a new thread to use Beta editor):

When Rye leans into the kiss that Jayn presses to her head, Jayn already knows what her friend, her college sweetheart, is going to do. She's smiling on the inside, and that makes her feel sick--guilty, because it's the little bit of Owl that she hasn't scraped off. It's the part of her that goes into a bloodthirsty rage when she's confronting someone who's hurt innocent people, especially children. It's the part of her that used to seduce tall men with dark hair and green eyes, or curvy women with red hair, telling them whatever they wanted to hear so they wouldn't mind too much when she came on their fingers screaming someone else's name. It's the part of her that she fears she was born with, evidenced by when she looks back and sees all the times she got in trouble with her mom. She feels horrible because she knows she told Rye exactly what she needed to, in order to get the girl to say yes.

Janice Wayne was an Owl. But Jayn Katherine Loren isn't.

"I think Rye should be with me a couple of hours before. Just me." She holds her hand up in Tim's direction, stopping him before he can bark some snippy retort or start planning her '"accidental" death. "If it's like this again, where it's all four of us together, Dick will know we're planning something." They'd all been trained to be paranoid enough. "He knows that Rye and I have a past, and it'll seem like we're just catching up, which we are. We'll talk...and then I'm going to train her. The way Selina trained me." Selina, bless her, actually wasn't a creep of any kind, so she hadn't touched Jayn so much as let her watch while the Pussycat (it was the name of her establishment, but you were supposed to call her Mistress) showed her some seduction techniques. "It'll keep Dick satisfied...until we come in." She also planned on giving Rye a nice bath, maybe with some candles, to help her wind down, but Tim didn't need to know that. He'd die of jealousy.

Tim feels like a goddamn raccoon trying to hiss and fend off the asshole humans who are dumb enough to ask for their trash back. Why is Jason seriously trying to fight for Jayn's affection when she's obviously got her own agenda?, he's wondering. Tim was pretty fucking sure that she hadn't bothered trying to contact her lost love since she first left. Jason should've given up on her and buried his face in the cunt of Ultraman's niece Kara, like he seemed so eager to do the few times that they happened to be in the same room together. She might've (accidentally) killed him, depending on how she liked it, but at least he wouldn't be pining and looking pathetic now. And of course, Tim's glaring daggers at Jayn every second he isn't focused on trying to murder Dick. Why did she conveniently arrive the night he privately announced his engagement to Rye? Maybe Jayn's whole presence is just a test from their father...but he can't attack her yet. As much as he hates to admit it, Jayn is part of Rye's chance to survive her time alone with Dick.

So when Jayn gives Rye a chaste kiss, Tim is initially livid. If Rye hadn't come back to him a second after Jayn kissed her head, he would have found a reason to put the brunette in a chokehold. But Rye manages to calm him with her yes. He wraps his arm (possessively) around her waist, whispering how she's gonna be perfect, and he'll never see it coming. When Jayn begins to deliver the specifics of her plan, he clenches his jaw (something his dentist had warned him against doing any more than he already had). "It's up to you," he tells Rye, and he means it. Because once Dick (and Bruce, since he won't stand for his oldest's assassination) was dead, Rye would be Tim's forever. He'd seen how she looked at him when the Court of Owls introduced them, compared to how she looked at him now. He had already won her over. She'd get her engagement ring after she slept with Dick, since it would be a distraction (or knowing the Talon, a weapon). The wedding was just a formality--one of many luxuries that Rye would be able to enjoy as his new wife.

@ashortgothamite

#jlw: thread #ashortgothamite #owls!au #the romantic/fluffy sex & bath is a new idea so I won't be mad if you/Rye says no--#but I figured it'd be both practical & a way for them to catch up #btw if you didn't know Beta editor lets you trim posts if you have xKit...otherwise stuff stays long so I made a new thread

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airasilver · 11 months

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'Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone' by LylaRivers:

Here's the link to the first story and then go from there. You won't regret it.

I love this so i wrote a lot.

Under the read more because I know it's long.

It's so long and while I know most wouldn't have minded, hopefully, the replies following each other I didn't know how much AO3 would letr do. I think they are all in order but I had them in notes until I put them here so I'm not promising.

I love the way Tim just follows them and then decided to talk to Jason.

Tim doesn't even know how much he saved Jason and the family in general just by doing so. I'm so happy he met his brother and dad, even if he's scared, because yes, it got them looking for him and hopefully it'll bring him home faster.

^ Tim just wishes there wasn’t a massive secret hanging over their heads. He wants to tell the older boy that he knows about Robin- that Jason is a hero, that Tim has admired him from afar for years.

He can’t, though. He doesn’t want Batman to try to put a stop to his nightly outings for good. Moreover, he doesn’t know what exactly Batman will do to him for figuring out the secret. ^

Jason will be flustered and then happy to know he's one of your favorite heroes. Take you into the family. That's what Bruce will do.

^ Ooops. Tim did not mean to reveal that. “They’re on a business trip. They’ll be back in a few days.”

It’s one of the first true lies he’s told Jason. The lie sits heavy in his stomach, curdling the joy of being invited over to simply hang out.^

Tim, baby, you are going to need a lot of hugs and love. I'm prescribing your oldest brother's hugs. The others will help hug you but not as much as Dick. Love, you'll get from everyone. You're also going to find that it'll be coming back to bite you.

^ “I’ll let our housekeeper Ms. Mac know, since she watches me when my parents are out of town, but she should be fine with it,” Tim says. Another lie, this one tinged with truth, but still factually incorrect. Ms. Mac watches the house. He just happens to be in the house some of the time. ^

Yeah, you're good at this but I hope it'll clear up soon.

^ “Dick?” Tim asks. He’s pretty sure Jason is referring to Richard Grayson, the first Robin, but he probably shouldn’t know that.

“Yeah, my older brother. I cannot believe that any sane human would decide to use the nickname Dick for Richard. Like, seriously? There’s about a million jokes just built in, and you can’t counteract any of them, ‘cause you chose to call yourself after a literal penis. Rich and Rick were right there ,” Jason grouses.

“Richard seems kind of formal,” Tim says. “I know that I hate being called Timothy. It’s what my parents call me when I’m in trouble.”

“Oh, the power of the full name,” Jason agrees wisely. “I have never seen someone drop out of the air so quickly as when B pulls out the ‘Richard John Grayson Wayne’ when Dick is about to break something by flipping on top of it.”

“What’s it like to have a brother?” Tim asks.

“It’s mostly like being an only child, since Dick is older and we didn’t grow up together,” Jason explains. “B actually adopted me after Dick moved out. He comes by on weekends and we go out for ice cream or to the movies or whatever. He has an absolutely endless supply of terrible nicknames, which I suppose I should have expected, since he literally goes by Dick .” ^

I can't not think of him as anything but Dick. Rick, just makes me shudder and Rich would do the same. Just wait...you'll be getting full named soon if you haven't already, Jason.

^ Nightwing is the whole reason Tim was able to figure out the identity of all of the Bats. ^

I love how every story that brings Tim in differently has something like this in it.

^ “It’s one of my earliest memories. I have a picture somewhere, of us. Me, and my parents, and the Flying Graysons.”

Jason bites his lip. “Dick doesn’t have many pictures of his parents. I don’t think they really had time to take family photos in the circus. Certainly they didn’t have a place to keep many photos.”

“Do… do you think Dick would like to see it?”

“Probably. Like I said, I don’t think he was able to keep much from the circus."^

This makes me smile because Tim gives Dick back his parents in a way. With technology they should be able to do the picture of the three of the them...though I don't know how they take Tim out if Dick was holding him.

I love how Jason just casually mentions kidnapping his baby brother. Who’s freaking a bit because he did.

^ But Tim knows better than anyone how anything can be armor to shield a completely different personality with enough practice. His parents wear politeness and impeccable manners as a shield for the multitude of problems at home. Brucie Wayne is a shield for Batman- and possibly for the true Bruce Wayne, as well.

What is Dick’s sparkling exterior a shield for?

Tim is stabbed by a sudden shot of fear. “I don’t know where the picture is,” he whispers.

Jason turns around in the front seat. “Don’t worry about it, Tim.” He might as well have told Tim not to breathe. But he also doesn’t have time to give in to the worry, because Alfred pulls into the driveway at Wayne Manor. ^

His anger. When he lets it out. Don’t worry Tim, you’ll be able to give it to Dick, let him see it later on.

Tim, you'll be lucky to leave Dick's arms...I'm exaggerating but nope, you won't be able to sneak around.

^ Tim crawls out of the car seat, carrying both backpacks. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Tim Drake. It’s nice to meet you.” Again. ^

Okay but this is making me think of Tim in a literal car seat.

^ Dick gasps, and covers Tim’s ears dramatically. “Jay, how could you use such language?”

Tim ducks away. The skin on his ears feels warm and tingly where Dick’s hands were. “I’ve heard worse,” Tim says.^

Get used to it Tim, you’re the baby brother and you’ll be having this done a lot.

^ Tim doesn’t like missing information. Knowledge is power, and Tim needs more of it. ^

We sure Tim is Jack’s son? Because this is totally Bruce.

^ “I’m hurt! I’m wounded! My only brother, declaring me an asshole? What did I ever do to deserve this?” Dick asks, pressing a hand to his forehead.^

For now Dick, for now he’s tor only brother.

^ He can’t remember the last time he had a homemade cookie. If ever.^

You’ll soon have as many as you want Tim….hopefully soon.

^ “Yeah,” Tim lies. Being a bother is a much easier excuse than ‘I’m afraid you’re going to lock me up forever for knowing your secret’.

“Allow me to dispute this, Master Tim. You have been remarkably helpful with Master Jason’s infirmity, and with minimal prior friendship as reason for the help. You are one of the first friends that Master Jason has been motivated to bring home, infirmity or no. You are, in fact, the exact opposite of a bother.”^

Alfred would know. He knows everything.

^ “Bold of you to assume we’re capable of acting normally,” Dick says brightly. He launches himself into a front handspring, and leaps at Bruce. Bruce catches him, and backs away from the table.^

Bruce will always catch his kids if he's near them and they leap at him. Always.

^ “Could be worse,” Dick offers. Jason raises his eyebrows. “You could be dead,” Dick says.

No one laughs.^

Dick, baby boy....if only you knew. Thank the Lord that you don't in this 'verse.

^ Tim wants to soak this warmth up like a sponge. He wants to recall every single moment of this joy, and bottle it up like one of his mom’s expensive perfumes.

Is this what having a family feels like?^

It is baby boy. It is.

^ The conversation moves to other topics, and Tim can let his mind run wild. He has one shot to get this right. He needs to come clean, without making it weird.

It’s going to be weird. He has to have an escape plan, too. They won’t want him to stay over if he tells them the truth, will they?

Will they?^

They'll want you Tim. You'll see.

^ Dick meets his eyes. For a moment, Tim wants to berate himself for bringing up his own memory, but Dick’s eyes are shining with gratitude. “I don’t have many photos of us, all together. Thank you,” he whispers. “Can I give you a hug, Tim?”

Tim drops his backpack, and lets Dick wrap his arms around him. “I didn’t want to bring up bad memories. But you should have a copy of it,” Tim whispers.

Dick squeezes his arms tightly. “I’d much rather have it, and be reminded, than not have anything at all. Thank you.”^

This made me cry and smile at the same time.

^ “Oh no, Dick got you into his tentacle-like clutches,” Jason says as they enter the den. “Tim, I hope you know that I’m not saving you. Every person gets to fend for themselves against Dick’s death hugs of doom.”

“I don’t mind,” Tim says.

“Jason,” Dick warns.

“What?”

“Why don’t you tell Tim about your experience with touch starvation, since he seems to think it’s normal.” Dick says as he drags Tim to a seat on the couch, not once letting go of him.

“My parents touch me,” Tim says, not even sure why he’s trying to defend them. “I mean… not like that. You know what I mean. They’re just not big cuddlers, that’s all.”

“Tim, you looked like you were about ready to cry when I hugged you. That’s not normal,” Dick says quietly.^

Tim is gonna gets lots of touch from his brothers, dad, and grandfather. He needs it. It'll also make it a bit easier to understand why he could follow them alot.... hopefully. (I want a Nightwing hug now.)

^ Jason casts a critical eye over the fort. “I dunno if there’s enough room for three in here, and you’re always complaining about how your back hurts when you sleep on it wrong…” he says. He grins when Dick pushes his lower lip out further, and furrows his brow. “It’s fine with me if it’s fine with Tim,” Jason says.

Dick turns pleading eyes on Tim.

“I’d like it if you stay,” Tim admits, sitting at the entrance to the fort. “I don’t want to keep you from patrol too long, though,” he adds absently. Then he freezes, realizing what he said.^

I don't know why this has me laughing but it does. Probably because of how Tim just blurts it out.

^ Screw it. He was planning to tell the Bats he knew tonight anyways. “Patrol. Because you’re Nightwing,” Tim says confidently.

Dick raises his eyebrows. “What makes you think that?”

“Quadruple somersault,” Tim explains succinctly.^

Yep, Dick's fault. I love you Dick but this is totally your fault.

^ Bruce rubs his temples. “Dick, what did I tell you, over and over again, about style points?”

“I’m a reckless showoff who’s going to endanger all of our identities, and style points don’t actually count for anything anyways?” Dick asks.

Bruce splays both hands out in front of him, eyebrows raised. “And here we are,” he says. “I’m very impressed. Wraith . How long have you been sneaking out at night to follow us?”

Tim grimaces. “A while?”

“Define ‘a while’,” Bruce says, crossing his arms.

“More than one year,” Tim hedges.

“Give me a more exact number.”

“Like… four years?”

Tim can see the exact moment this settles with all three vigilantes, as they do the math. “You were running around the streets of Gotham at nine ?” Dick asks.^

Tell him Bruce! Why are you shocked Dick? You were his age when you started.

^ “So were you!” Tim retorts.

“Boys.” Bruce interrupts.^

Total exasperated dad here.

Love how Bruce started looking into Tim before this. They might have had an idea it was him but didn't know for sure.

^ “Jason, what was the ratio of actual business meetings to nonessential archeological digs?” Bruce asks, looking over at his younger son.

“Like six to one in favor of archeological digs, in terms of actual trips,” Jason says. “In terms of time spent, the ratio was way higher. I don’t remember the exact number there, but I ran the report.”

Tim pales. He’s pretty sure the bottom has completely disappeared from his stomach. That’s… a lot of time. His parents always made it seem like their traveling was for business, and the archeological digs were a brief vacation in between business meetings.^

Ouch. That has to hurt. It hurts me just reading this.

^ “Drake Industries is primarily an American company, with few international contracts or interests,” Bruce explains. “Those few overseas holdings are primarily in Europe. As far as I can tell from the travel receipts and dig permits, any travel in Asia, Africa, or South America was archaeologically based.”

That’s a lot . His parents have spent a lot of time in both the Middle East and South America- neither of which, apparently, have any Drake Industries assets at all. Tim can feel his eyes well up with tears. This is… he had no idea. Years and years of ‘we can’t possibly let the company down’, and ‘do you want to be the reason hundreds of people can’t feed their families, Timothy’, as excuses to leave with as little fanfare as possible- and that’s all they were. Excuses. Blatant, horrible lies with minimal grounding in reality. ^

Now I hope Bruce gets custody soon. Tim needs the family and probably therapy....if that'll work for him.

^ “I would like you to stay over, indefinitely, while your parents are out of town,” Bruce says.

“You can’t call CPS,” Tim says, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy, and breaking away from Dick’s loose hold. “You can’t . I won’t go into foster care. I’ll disappear. I’ll… prove to the world that you’re actually Batman.”

“I’d prefer to talk to your parents, first, before any more drastic measures,” Bruce says. “That being said, it’s not safe for you to be living alone, particularly when we are more than willing to take you in, right next door.”

“You barely know me,” Tim counters.

Bruce meets his gaze steadily. “I know enough,” he says calmly. “More than that, though, I will not willingly leave any child in a dangerous situation, particularly when there is a perfectly reasonable solution at hand.”

“That’s… that’s fine, then,” Tim says. Immediate danger dealt with, he lets himself collapse into Dick again. Tim pushes his head into the hollow underneath Dick’s shoulder, hiding his face so nobody can talk to him. He’s quite done with upsetting revelations for the night. ^

I know it's hard Tim but it'll get better in time. It'll take time but it will.

Thank God they were there for this panic attack but now I'm sad that Tim probably had others no one was there for and he didn't know what was going on. Sometimes you don't remember if you had any. Especially of they weren't as severe.

^ “Alright,” Bruce says. “You said that you don’t remember this ever happening before, right?”

“Nope. Zero out of five stars, though. Would not recommend or repeat the experience. I’m exhausted.”

“I’m not surprised. Panic attacks use up a lot of energy,” Bruce says.

“Can confirm,” Jason adds. He slides from where he was perching on the side of the couch to fully sit on the cushion. Tim never noticed him moving closer to them. “Panic attacks suck major ass. And yes, Alfie, this is a moment of distress, so I’m claiming exemption from the swear jar.”

“Entirely fair, Master Jason.”

“You…?” Tim starts to ask, but he can’t quite finish the sentence.

“Number one, living alone on the street tends to leave some scars. Also, I’ve had a few traumatic experiences since then and now.”^

As I wondered above, Tim might have had some but can't remember or maybe he just slept then. At least Jason is helping even if it's to finally help Tim's curiosity in figuring out what happened.

^ Hopefully, he’ll finally get his suspicions confirmed.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. “But given that you've already had a panic attack this evening, how ‘bout we not talk about that tonight. ‘Cause it ain’t a pretty conversation.”

“ I’m going to hold you to that,” Tim says.

“If you stay here, you’ll have plenty of time to hold me to that,” Jason agrees.^

Good reason Jason and good way of getting Tim to stay even though he's already agreed. Can't hurt to makes sure he is staying for sure.

^ “I’d rather stay down here,” Tim says. “We already got all these blankets out and built the fort. Also, where did this blanket come from?” He gestures to the weighted blanket around his torso and legs.

“It’s one of the spare weighted blankets,” Dick explains. “The first time I used one, I fell asleep in like fifteen minutes, instead of lying awake for hours. After that, Bruce decided we needed about six more.”

“You can keep using that one if you like it,” Bruce says.

“It’s nice,” Tim says. “Never heard of it before. But I like it a lot.” ^

I've tried a weighted blanket before and it didn't work for me. I'm glad it did for Tim. I just pile on blankets and then kick them off. (Probably why the weighted blanket didn't work.)

^ Bruce stops to hug both Dick and Jason. To Tim’s surprise, he stops to study Tim for a moment, then slowly and carefully leans in to hug Tim, too, before leaving the den, closing the door gently behind him.

“Do you need to go be Nightwing?” asks Tim from his cocoon. He doesn’t want to give up the comforting warmth of Dick holding him, but he knows that Nightwing has more important things to do than coddle one overemotional teenager.

“Nah, I’m the responsible adult for the night. Alfred’s running comms in the cave for B, so someone’s gotta be up here to make sure you don’t burn the house down,” Dick says. “I should probably change out of my jeans, though.” ^

Tim, you are more important right now. Besides Dick loves to cuddle, especially if it's his family.

^“Look, rich people compare the size of their stock portfolios the way normal people compare the size of their dicks.”^

Thank you for this image. Never seeing stocks any other way now.

^ “From what B said, it could have been so much worse,” Dick says. “You managed to take on the Joker, alone.”

“If B had gotten there even five minutes later, I probably would have died,” Jason says.

“The Joker?” Tim asks. “You said something about your bio mom and a car accident- clearly it wasn’t a car. But was your mom involved?”

“Oh, yeah. She did actually kidnap me, and tried to hand me over to the Joker to pay off her drug debts, to make a very long story short,” Jason says, voice forcedly light. “It sucked. Zero out of five stars.”^

Damn. He really is lucky.

^ “You’re so mean to me, Little Wing. You’re killing me- your first, oldest brother. I’m dying, and it’s all your fault.”

Jason rolls his eyes as they walk into the kitchen. “Dick, I’m your only brother.”

“B has an adoption problem. I’m sure it won’t be long until I’m not your only brother.”

“Hm. Pretty sure two adopted children isn’t actually classified as a problem.”

“He impulse nabbed me after my parents fell to their deaths during a show with him in the audience. He impulse nabbed you after you stole the literal tires off of the literal Batmobile,” Dick lists off. “With a track record like that, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until B sees another sad orphan or needy child that he’s just desperate to swoop in and save.”^

Your new brother is walking with you both right now. Giving Tim a hint, Dick? It seems like it.

^ The rest of breakfast passes in a blur. Tim has never had a breakfast quite like this one- fresh baked goods, company, light conversation, and delicious coffee that he didn’t make himself. It feels totally different, basking in the warmth of the kitchen against the chill outside. Bruce seems genuinely interested in what his children have to say, once he’s drunk enough coffee to wake up.

Tim could get used to this. ^

Get used to it Tim. Once Bruce has custody, you will enjoy this for the rest of your life.

^ This is it. This is the ‘it’s been lovely, but you’re far too much trouble, and we’re going to lock you up forever to keep you from telling anyone our secret identity’. Or maybe they have some gadget that can wipe his memory.

Tim forces himself to look at Bruce, despite the fear. Bruce rests both hands palm up on his lap. “I want you to feel safe here,” Bruce says. “That includes feeling like you can voice your opinions, and state your preferences. If you don’t enjoy a particular food, you don’t have to eat it. If you don’t like an activity, within reason, we will try to minimize the time you spend doing it. Obviously, homework and household chores need to be completed, but any optional activities are just that- optional. If you are interested in something, we will do our best to accommodate that interest. Do you understand me?”

It sounds too good to be true. Tim can barely believe what he’s hearing.

But, Bruce’s words logically line up with his actions over the past two weeks, the few times he has interacted with the man behind the mask. In private, Bruce has been nothing but a loving, attentive father, who just so happens to go out in a leather and kevlar suit to fight crime at night.

Tim wants to believe. ^

When Brucw says something he usually means it. He means this so believe Tim.

^ “I know, but it’s a big house,” Bruce says. “It’s okay to have boundaries- both on your time, your space, and your interactions. If you’re not ready to interact with them, they can wait to come back into the room, or you can go into a different room."^

Bruce is so patient with Tim. Dick and Jason really helped him out that way.

Tim is confused but he is going to learn and get help and love from his family.

^ On the one hand… doing something with Dick Grayson , the original Robin. On the other hand… he still doesn’t know the rules here. He can’t just change the schedule… can he?

“Come on,” Dick says. “B converted one of the smaller ballrooms into a gymnast's heaven, cause he’s an extra Dad like that.”

“It was better than cleaning up broken glass from the chandeliers that you shattered in the first few months of living with me,” Bruce mutters.

“What was that, Bruce?” Dick asks, smiling with all his teeth.

“I mean I love you so very much, my wonderful eldest child,” Bruce says louder. Then he turns and winks at Tim. “Alfred and I cleaned up a lot of glass that first year. And cuts from glass. The gym was absolutely worth all the effort and expense for decreasing my gray hairs.” ^

Go have fun with your brother Tim. You love him Bruce. Also, how many ballrooms do you have? It's got to get more than three if you converted one into a gym for Dick and now Jason and Tim to use. (That way they don't always need to go down to the cave to get a workout done.)

^ Every so often, as they work, Tim has to stop and mentally pinch himself. Dick Grayson, the last of the Flying Graysons, the first Robin, is teaching him how to tumble.

It’s a dream come true. It’s something he didn’t even know he could dream about, even. What are the odds that Dick Grayson would just teach some random kid gymnastics.

“Actually, the odds are pretty good,” Dick says with a laugh when Tim makes the mistake of saying it out loud. “I actually teach acrobatics at a gym in Bludhaven, so I do work with a lot of kids. If you’re in a position to know about Robin and Nightwing, the odds aren't actually that bad.”

“It’s just a little surreal,” Tim says.

Dick ruffles his hair. “Welcome to the Batclan, kid.”^

I love this part. Dick is so patient and just treating Tom not as one of his kids at work but family. The end of the chapter helps prove that. The boys are going to have a great relationship.

^ Tim darts across the hall to his parents’ room. This room too is lifeless- cold, sterile, impersonal sheets. No decorations or photographs along the walls. The only indication that someone lives here is the ornamented wedding ketubah between Janet and Jack Drake hanging over the bed. ^

I wonder....is Tim being Jewish canon or is it fanon? Because Bruce also seems to be Jewish in alot of stories. Dick, I think is nonreligious and Jason is Catholic. At least in a lot of fanfics I read, Jason is the only one in canon that I know of that was given an actual religion and that was an AU. (Okay, I just finished 'Robins Being Robin' and Bruce, according to Dick isn't religious. So I'm guessing it's headcanon/fanon for at least Bruce being Jewish.)

^ “It was that or be caught,” Tim says shortly. “I had some close calls that first year.”

“How close?” Bruce asks.

“I wasn’t always as good at hiding as I am now. There were a few close calls, I think ‘cause of light reflecting off my camera lens or something. But I’ve always been pretty quick on my feet, so when I saw someone coming my way, I scampered, and no one ever caught me. No one expects to see a kid out that late.”

Bruce slowly exhales. “Tim, the reason no one expects to see a kid out that late is because it’s dangerous.”

“Jason and Dick both did it,” Tim defends himself.

“That’s true,” Bruce acknowledges. “But, Jason and Dick also both had immediate adult supervision, both while out in Gotham and afterwards, in case they were injured. I didn’t let Dick patrol alone until he was sixteen. Jason has never been on patrol alone. I’m very impressed with what you’ve accomplished, but I also want to impress on you just how dangerous it was. You had no direct supervision, and no one at home if anything went wrong. It sounds like you were extremely lucky that first year.”^

Bruce is already becoming Tim's parent. Tim is defensive though because he is used to his life and not really getting I trouble...at least for leaving the house.

^ “Except for attention, support, and adult supervision,” Bruce says immediately. “Tim, children cannot and should not be left on their own. From a purely scientific standpoint, your brain isn’t developed enough to take care of all of your needs. Recent scientific research actually suggests that the brain isn’t fully developed until age twenty five, particularly the areas surrounding executive function and impulse management. From a more emotional standpoint, children need constant love and affection to grow into healthy adults.”

“I’m not a child,” Tim protests. “I’m a legal Jewish adult.”

“Which only became true this year, and has no bearing on your status under common law. And besides, teenagers also need consistency and comfort,” Bruce says immediately. “If you were left alone for only a few hours at a time, with regular adult supervision, we would be having a different conversation. But being left alone with minimal supervision is a serious detriment to your health and well being- not to mention exceedingly dangerous.

“From a purely practical standpoint, you are simply not old enough to take care of many of your needs. As Dick pointed out last night, you can’t drive. While you’ve clearly done an excellent job adapting with the city bus and your bike, it’s still dangerous, here, more than anywhere else. This is Gotham . Surely I don’t need to tell you about the dangers of our various villains and the prevalence of organized crime in this city.”^

Okay, I will be shocked if Tim isn't Bruce's kid by blood. (I know, I know) He's to much like his dad and they haven't even really been a family yet.

^ “My life just got turned upside down, and it’s only gonna get worse when you call CPS on my parents and I get dumped into the foster care system,” Tim says, just as bluntly. “No one wants me. Ms. Mac seemed thrilled to not have to take care of me. Clearly my parents don’t want me that much, either. Bruce is only doing this cause he feels bad.”

“Maybe Ms. Mac is thrilled, as you say, because she was worried about you being alone,” Jason says. “I know I can’t really speak to the actions of your parents, besides being horrified at you being alone. However, I can safely say that Bruce doesn’t ‘just do’ anything. Some people dress up in a leather fur suit and fight crime to cope, and some people impulsively adopt sad children to cope. Bruce just so happens to do both, because he’s richer than G-d and can afford a crazy hobby and to support a bunch of traumatized children who also are filled with rage and want to fight crime.”^

Jason is such a good brother.

^ “Eh, we figured out pretty quickly you weren’t a threat,” Jason says. He leans over to ruffle Tim’s hair, and Tim lets himself relax. “How did you know to seek me out, anyways?”

“This is gonna sound stupid,” Tim mutters.

“Can I come sit next to you?” Jason asks. Tim nods wordlessly.

Jason shoves himself to his feet gracelessly, and sits next to Tim on the bed. “Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t complaining,” Jason says quietly. “If B hadn’t been there, totally in the loop like he was, I woulda died. Full stop. If he had been even a few minutes later than he was to rescue me, or if he hadn’t even known I was gone, the Joker would have blown me to smithereens. Your warning saved my life. If you saw something on the street, or knew something was going to happen…”

“It was nothing so certain,” Tim scoffs. “It was just a feeling I had. I started Bat Watching at the end of Dick’s time as Robin, and there was this… distance between the two of them. In those days, I wasn’t good enough to get real close to Batman and Robin, but I overheard plenty of arguments.

“You had that same distance that developed really quickly, between you and Batman. But you’re a lot younger than Dick was, so it’s not like you could really strike out as your own hero as you are. I just…” Tim trails off. He still can’t quite put his finger on why he was so compelled to intervene.

Jason lets Tim pause and gather his thoughts.

"Okay, there was one other thing, but it's going to sound really stupid.".

“I dress up in traffic light colors and fight crime every night. Try me.”

“I had a dream something was going to happen,” Tim says quietly. He feels stupid even uttering the words out loud.

“Weirder shit has happened,” Jason says. “Have you had any other dreams that have come true? Or have you had any dreams you’ve acted on and changed an outcome?”

“Dunno.”

“Might be a latent meta gene,” Jason muses. “Or who knows- the multiverse is a strange place, and sometimes events from one timeline bleed over into another. It doesn’t really matter, one way or another. I’m just glad this timeline didn’t get fucked to hell and back, for whatever reason.”^

I just adore this part for some reason. Probably because I know canon and the way you wrote this part is so good.

^Did you, really?” Jason counters. “Tim, I know you’re not thrilled about having your life turned upside down, but the way you were living wasn’t healthy- and I say that on good authority, given that I lived on the streets for a few years. Dickie will expound on this until your ears fall off, but humans are pack animals. We’re not meant to be alone, especially as kids. People need other people.”

“My parents say that needing people makes you weak, and people will always disappoint you.” Their statement has certainly been true enough in regards to his parents. Tim honestly can’t say he’s had enough experience with other people to make a judgment call of his own, though.

His stomach lurches uncomfortably. His parents could have told him anything, and he would have believed it. Was this just one more way they lied to him, so he’d let them leave easier?

“I’m just gonna come out and say it, Timbit, your parents sound like shit,” Jason says bluntly. He wraps his good arm around Tim tightly, pulling Tim almost entirely on to his chest.

“I have a home to live in, and food to eat, and…” Tim starts to say, not totally sure why he’s defending his parents. It’s not like they ever defended him.

“And no one there to help you,” Jason cuts in smoothly. “Yeah, I’ll agree your circumstances ain’t exactly dire, compared to living on the street. But also, abuse comes in a lot of forms- not just physical. There’s emotional abuse, as well as neglect. Just because they never hit you or starved you or whatever doesn’t actually make them good parents, Tim.”^

I think Jason will get through to his little brother a lot better than Bruce. He's closer in age and had delt with a lot of things like Tim has.

^ Jason ruffles his hair. “I know, baby bird. But we want to convince you that what’s happening to you is wrong. Bruce wants to help fix it, but we can’t do much if you don’t let us.”

“Baby bird?”

“Do ya like it? Dick is fond of bird themed nicknames, for somewhat obvious reasons, knowing our little secret. If I’m Little Wing, and he’s Big Bird, that makes you Baby Bird.”

“It’s a lot better than anything else you’ve come up with,” Tim says, managing to sound grumpy despite the warm glow the nickname brings. The nickname, more than anything else that has happened in the last twenty four hours, convinces him that whatever is going on here is genuine.

“I mean, I’m not likely to abandon all the Tim themed nicknames in a hurry,” Jason warns. “It makes you puff up like a lil Robin yourself, and you get all indignant about it, which is totally satisfying, and I fully understand why Dickie likes doing it to me.” ^

I love how the baby bird nickname is brought in here.

^ “Bruce has a terrible adoption problem. I’m sure you’ll get to experience the joy for yourself.”

“You and Dick keep talking about Bruce’s adoption problem. What does that have to do with me?” Tim asks.

“Is it not obvious?”

“No.”

Jason pulls his head back, so that he can look at Tim fully. “Tim, I’m pretty sure the next victim of Bruce’s adoption problem is going to be you.” ^

Truth. Tim won't believe it but it's true.

The way Jason explains mental illness and the way Tim listens and breaks and then just packages it away....hurts. Baby boy needs help and he'll get it. It'll be slow but he'll get the help he needs. Slow, because Tim needs to learn how his parents are abusing him.

^ It takes barely one week to settle into a rhythm. It almost seems as if he’s lived here his whole life. ^

This sums up exactly what I'm thinking as I read this story. Tim, has become such a part of the family, it seems as if he was always there.

^ Tim presses his fingers against the glass surrounding what looks like the very first Robin suit. “This looks thinner than your suit.”

“I’m trying not to think about how you’ve gotten close enough to me as Robin multiple times to know that,” Jason says dryly. “But yeah, back in the early days, Dick mostly wore spandex. Or something similar, I think. After a few close calls, B finally convinced him to add some armor. It helped that Wayne Enterprises was testing out a super light armor weave at the time. Dick doesn’t like to be weighed down.”

Jason leads them through a wall of suits. “Here, of course, is my favorite suit- the Discowing. I have no idea why Dick thought fighting crime with his chest on full display was a good idea, but damn is it fun to tease him about it.”

“There’s not very many Nightwing suits here,” Tim observes.

“Yeah, Dick keeps his suits in Bludhaven for the most part. He only deigns to let Bruce display the really old outdated suits. Hence, Discowing.”

“He pulled it off.”

Jason gives him a sharp look. “He absolutely did not and never, ever, say that to his face. Come on. Let me show you the trophy room.”^

I love Dick but come on Tim. Dick doesn't have the best sense in fashion or keeping himself safe with his suits. At least he has family to help give him some armor....even if it's not as much as they want him to have. (Maybe he has more now in canon.)

^ “The penny and the T-Rex were before my time, so no idea how B got them into the cave,” Jason says. “I can tell you the story behind some of the other trophies, though. Dick tells the penny story best.”^

I actually want to know how Bruce built all of the cave without it being big news. Especially when he started bringing in some trophies, like the Penny and the T-Rex. Do any of the comics say, tell how he does it?

^ “Can we look at something else?” Tim asks quietly. The love that the Batfamily has for each other permeates the walls. Tim can’t even imagine his parents doing the same for him.^

Just wait Tim. You'll soon have your own place on the walls and will realize how much they love you.

^ “‘Kay, so you know how Dick was ten when he started out? Yeah, he thought it was hilarious, and B’s too much of a softie to try to change any of the names now.”

Tim giggles. He’s unlocking so much new Batman lore- he’s pretty sure he’s died and gone to Bat Heaven. “That’s amazing .” He walks back towards where Jason is sitting. ^

Considering the comics I just read had everything the same, just whatever their viligante name was, it seems as if it will follow every Bat.

^ Tim loses himself in looking at crimes across the city with Jason. He offers Robin several insights that the older boy praises as helpful. With every compliment, Tim glows with internal warmth. He’s helping to make a difference. His insights are valuable . It’s been a rare feeling in his life, and Tim chases it with the same intensity he might seek water in the desert.

He had no idea how starving he'd been, until he’d been fed. ^

I love this so much. Jason's just giving Tim compliments, like he should have had, and Tim is slowly realizing that he's never really been given any so when he gets some? He's hoaedinf them close.

^ Tim nods seriously. He may never have seen Alfred upset, but he can easily picture the kind of chaos the older man could wreak if he were so inclined.^

Alfred runs the family. Bruce might be the head of it but Alfred runs it. There's a reason why people are afraid of him.

^ “Well, as civilians Dick and Barbara Gordon were always hanging out and flirting, and Robin and Batgirl had the exact same flirtatious vibes, sooo…”

Dick slams his head on the table theatrically. “Am I your explanation for everything?”

“If Timmy could figure out this much about you just by watching, imagine what he’ll be able to solve as Robin,” Jason says.

Tim turns to stare at Jason. “What?”

“Oh, sorry, was that not the foregone conclusion when I graduate, eventually?”

“But… you’re Robin.”

“So was I, incidentally,” Dick says. “It’s not a gig that lasts forever.” He glares at Bruce. “Not that that was my intention at the start, though.”^

Yes, Dick. You are the answer to Tim figuring everything out. You always will be.

^ “Robin was my mom’s nickname for me,” Dick explains. “I chose the name to honor her when I was hunting down their killer. Robin became so attached to Batman, though, that when I was trying to step out of B’s shadow I changed my name. Someone decided it would be a good legacy superhero identity.” He ends this speech with a pointed glare at Bruce.^

Bruce is trying. He at least apologized and I can tell it helped because Dick and Bruce seem much closer.

^ He wants to join in the bantering and laughter, but he can’t quite figure out how. It’s so different from the silence he’s used to.

But maybe- just maybe- he can get used to it.^

You will soon Tim. You'll get used to it and then join in.

^ Tim stares at the email in dismay. “Bruce. Bruce, what do I do?” he whispers, holding the phone out to him.^

This opening sucks but it also shows how much Tim trusts Bruce to come right to him about his parents returning.

^ “Two things,” Bruce says. “Tim, I need you to look at me for this, please.”

Reluctantly, Tim pulls away from Bruce. “I’m listening.”

“Number one, we’re going to get you a wire and camera,” Bruce says. His eyes are steely and cold- Batman focused, even in civilian clothes. “The Commissioner has some gear for me to give to you, that should be easily concealed. We need to be able to prove neglect- try to get them to talk about how long they’ve been on their trip, about who’s watching you at home, things like that. Audio recordings will help us present an airtight CPS case that all the money in the world won’t let your parents wriggle out of.

“Number two, I’m giving you a Bat panic button, just in case. If something happens that endangers your physical safety, I want you to press that button, do you understand? If you are in physical danger, for whatever reason, we will come and get you, consequences be damned.”

Bruce doesn’t blink. “Tim. Do you understand me? We will get you out. I know that this is uncomfortable, but if we want to keep you- and we do, make no mistake- we have to play by the rules.”^

I'm hating why Bruce has these rules but I'm so glad he does. I'm also glad it seems as if Gordon is involved. It'll help if the Drakes find the wire and the camera...which is why Bruce had Jim get involved. That and they want to get Tim home to them for good. To do that, it has to be legal.

^ Still, it doesn’t stop the pit from forming in his stomach. He hadn’t been aware how much he thrived on being around people until it was taken away. He misses seeing Dick hanging from the chandeliers, Bruce’s inability to function until he has at least one mug of coffee in his system, Jason’s constant companionship, and Alfred’s silent but reassuring presence and sharp wit. He misses the constant bantering tossed from room to room- Jason’s sharp street drawl mixed with Dick’s excited tone.

Drake Manor is as silent as ever. Now that he knows what he’s missing, the silence is oppressive. Tim has the desperate urge to sing, or talk, or scream, or something , just to make the halls echo.^

You never has things like that before Tim. Once you had it, you want it all the time.

^ He misses the Waynes. He misses dinner with life and laughter- Dick perching on chairs, Jason arguing with anyone who will participate. He misses the warmth of eating with three or four other people who actually want to be around him.

He misses Alfred’s cooking. Ms. Mac is a good chef, but he had no idea just how much of a difference it made to have the food cooked fresh, not out of a microwave or reheated. ^

You miss your family. That's what you miss. Family that cares. Ms. Mac cares but you know for sure that the Wayne's do.

^ His father is angry . Tim wants to cower in his room and hide for the rest of eternity. “Do you want me to sit with you while you eat?” Tim asks. He’d rather be anywhere else.^

I thought Janet was bad with her distain for Jason...Jack's worse. He's going to hurt Tim isn't he? Not just verbally but physically also.

^ “Remember whose company this is, and remember where your power comes from,” Janet retorts. Her eyes are cold as ice, and her voice could cut diamond. Tim hides a shiver. These moods are rare, but dangerous. “Timothy. I expect you to act as perfectly befits the Drake heir. You will stay away from the gutter filth. Do you understand?”

Tim breathes out slowly. “It’s pretty pathetic that he needs so much help in school,” he says, matching his mother’s coldness with his own frozen tone. “I would certainly never seek him out.”^

I always thought Jack married in and just kept the name. This seems to help my headcanon on that fact.

Tim is more Janet than Jack in a lot of things. Like his tones in canon and fanon.

^ Tim stares at his reflection in the mirror. “It’s only a few hours,” he says aloud. “What’s the worst that can happen when we’re all offline?”^

A whole lot. Especially since you'll be getting hurt probably. Hopefully it'll help you get home faster...even if I dont like it.

^ Jason’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Twenty four hours,” he says, instead. An apparent non-sequitur- but a subtle reminder that the end is in sight.

“Twenty four hours,” Tim agrees quietly. He takes his cup of punch and moves away from the table. Jason gives him a small smile, but blessedly doesn’t follow him. ^

Less than that because your parents mess up. Of course Tim follows their rules and he'll still mess up according to them. Why they ever had him and kept him I'll never understand. (I'm glad but I won't ever understand.)

^ “He approached me. As a fellow classmate and gala attendee, it would have been impolite to not acknowledge him,” Tim says calmly. “Additionally, he believes we are friends, or at least study group partners. It does not benefit Drake Industries for me to act otherwise, as Jason Todd-Wayne stands to be a major shareholder in Wayne Enterprises one day.”

“You smart mouthed little bastard,” his father snarls. He unbuckles his belt. “Where is your respect for your mother? Jacket off.”

Tim takes a very deep breath, and holds himself with steel in his spine. “I followed my mother’s directions, in keeping my friends close but my enemies closer.” Sorry Jason , he thinks.

“Jacket. Off,” Jack snaps. “If you can’t get respect through your thick skull with words, I’ll just have to beat it into you.”

Tim holds his breath, and looks at his mother. Janet Drake has already closed off, emotions hidden behind a carefully constructed society mask.

“Well?” Jack demands. “You have thirty seconds before I take the jacket off for you. Now.”

Resigned, Tim takes his suit jacket off. All he can hope is that this will be brief. Before his father can ask, he takes off his shirt as well, making sure the button cam is facing towards the scene.

That’s all the comfort he’s going to get.^

For now baby boy, for now. This will help your case and the Drakes can't say it was forced on you or anything else because Jim Gordon helped make this happen to get you away from the Drakes.

^ “Get up,” Jack orders. Wraith slowly pushes off of his arms, and turns to face him. Facing his father makes reality sink in, and Tim rises to the surface, shaking and shivering.

“Pathetic,” Jack sneers. “You can’t even take your punishment like a man.”

Tim sniffles, and moves to put his shirt back on. His father sneers at him. His mother watches over the scene, serene as she was at the gala. “I wasn’t aware men still got whipped with belts,” he mutters, against his better judgment. His back hurts , the pain overruling his normally iron control.

“Say that again,” his mother orders.

Tim puts his suit jacket back on carefully, and turns to face his parents. He holds himself straight and tall, just as they’ve always ordered. “I said I wasn’t aware men still got whipped with belts,” he repeats.

“He’s inherited your hot head,” Janet says to Jack. She grabs Tim by the collar of his suit jacket, and drags him to the front door. “You can come back in when you’ve cooled down,” she says, opening the door to the outside. She pushes him outside.^

He's a fucking kid who just got hit ten times and told the truth, what he thinks is the truth, and you say he's hotheaded? Tim's exactly like you Janet! Exactly!

Bitch. I hope this brings you both down and the company goes to Tim, all of it. You locked your kid out in winter just because he talked back. You deserve everything coming for you. Everything.

I'm so proud of you Tim. You asked for help. Yes, you waited a bit but you still asked for help. That took courage.

^ The warm glow that was steadily building from the warmth, hot cocoa, and companionship is abruptly doused. “Oh,” Tim whispers. Right. His parents locked him outside of the house in the middle of February. And beat him repeatedly with a belt.^

It hurts to think about but it will help the case against the Drakes. You'll soon be home with your family for good. Not making the 48 hours isn't your fault, Tim. You did your best. It's your parents fault.

^ “Bruce?” Tim mumbles.

“I’m here, sweetheart. Can you tell me what happened?” Bruce asks.

“They locked me out,” Tim whispers. “They never really wanted me, did they?”

“I don’t know the answer to that,” Bruce says. “But that doesn’t matter to me. We want you, even if your parents can’t see what they’re missing.”

Tim flinches. Shouldn’t his parents want him?

“‘S like I told you before, Tim. Some people ain’t fit to be parents, but they procreate anyways,” Jason says. “On the flip side of that, some people would be great parents and they never have kids of their own.” ^

Bruce is a great example of this. The way he cares for his kids, for Tim who he barely knows, shows this.

^ Tim shrugs. He’s getting tired of all of these endless questions making him make decisions, when the decision is patently obvious. “Sure,” he says.

“Thank you,” Dr. Thompkins says. Tim watches dully as she pulls out her phone.

“Are you doing alright, Tim?” Bruce asks.

“Fine,” Tim mutters. Soonest done, soonest over with.

“I know it feels frustrating that we keep asking for your permission, but we have to verbally make sure that you consent to everything that Dr. Thompkins does,” Bruce explains. “It may feel very redundant, but it’s important that we document your consent throughout the process.”

“Okay,” Tim says.^

I don't think Tim really understands. He's trying to though. He's just so tired and just wants to be done and sleep.

^ “It’s hardly nothing,” Dr. Thompkins says. “The documentation we did today was important, and the damage could have been severe. Fortunately, most of the bruising seems to be higher up, away from your kidneys. Bruce and Alfred will have to monitor you for signs of kidney damage for the next few days, just to be safe. You can put your shirt back on, though. The cuts are all fully wrapped, Tim.”^

You might think it's nothing Tim but it's something. It is proving that the Drakes are abusing you and it's showing that you trust Bruce enough to go to him for help. You are helping your own case. Plus, as they said, it's better to be safe.

^ “Do you want me to get Dick to come pick you up?” Bruce asks.

“I can walk,” Tim protests. He doesn’t really want to, though.

“You look exhausted, though. Would you like to be carried?” Bruce asks.

Tim shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Bruce pulls his phone out again, and starts typing. “Dick and Jason are on their way,” he says. Tim shrugs again, and buries his head against Bruce’s chest.

“I hear you have a baby bird for me!” Dick says brightly.

“Good to be passed off?” Bruce asks.

“Kay,” Tim mumbles.

Warm, strong arms take hold of him around his legs and shoulders. “Come on, Timmers, let's get you into a bed,” Dick says.^

Let your family care for you Tim. I'm proud of you. You are making decisions and/or telling them if you can't think. You aren't hiding which is good.

^ Jason keeps up the soothing movements against Tim’s scalp. “How are you doing, baby bird?”

“I just want it to wake up from this nightmare.”

Warm hands cup his cheeks. Tim opens his eyes, and comes face to face with Jason. “It takes a long time. I still have times when I have to reprocess something that happened to me. But we’re all here for you, okay?”

“Kay,” Tim mutters, closing his eyes again.

“Go to sleep, Tim,” Jason says. “Everyone will still be here when you wake up.”

Tim wraps both arms around Jason, and falls asleep.^

You will Tim, you will. You'll wake up with your family and never leave them again.

#fanfiction #comments #mine #batman #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #recommendations

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comatose--overdose · 2 years

Note

Regarding your Cat!Jason posts- you know those videos of cats being scared of cucumbers- how do you think he react? Would he be unbothered or jump and run when he sees it? Imagine Tim does it as payback for all the times Jason has pissed on Tim’s Bed-

[I'm so sorry for the long wait, this one gave me some trouble and I had to spend some time thinking about it because it didn't go in the direction intended lol. It was supposed to be funny and somehow turned into hurt/comfort fluff instead, I hope that's alright. It's also hellaciously long, so I put it under a read more]

It makes him jump exactly once. They'd tried several times before but he heard them coming and could hear his sibling, whichever one it was because all of them tried this at some point except for Damian, set something down behind him. They may have been silent to humans, but now he has all his training AND enhanced hearing and smell. But Tim spots an opportunity to catch him unaware.

Jason honestly looked so cute that Tim almost felt bad for what he was about to do. But then he remembered how many times he'd had to do his laundry in the past week and any potential guilt or remorse evaporated like rain over an erupting volcano. Dick had tried to talk him out of it. For Jason's sake, sure, but mostly for Tim's. Baby bird was still healing from the cat food incident. But nothing Dickie said could stop him. Normally he wouldn't bother getting revenge on a cat, he'd understand that none of it was personal. Just a cat being a cat.

But that wasn't actually a cat, now was it.

He didn't have the proof yet, but he knew. He knew. There was something in the eyes and the way certain antics were clearly aimed in specific ways at specific people. It made sense that he and Bruce would be on the receiving end of most of the chaos that fucking gremlin wrought if Jason still possessed his human mind; if he didn't all of it would be much more random than it had been. No, he was playing them, and he was all in on the long game too. It was almost admirable how dedicated Jay'd been to the role he'd been playing, nearly Oscar worthy, but he'd slipped up a few too many times. Broken character too often. No, Jason knew exactly what he was doing, and even if the rest of them will never believe Tim when tells them that, it won't stop him from giving as good as he gets.

He's not crazy. He's not. He's not.

Of course, payback couldn't be cruel, that's still his brother, and everyone else was convinced he's a regular cat; if Damian caught wind of him causing an animal any distress he might actually kill him, regardless of his usual feelings towards human Jason. When Jason is back to rights, there'd be true hell to pay, but for now, he’d make the best of this, use this as an opportunity to collect black mail, record some videos that will no doubt go viral to boost their civilian covers’ online presence, and have a chuckle at that fuzzy shithead’s expense. Just some harmless pranks. For now.

Jason lay there, curled up in a ball on his side. His fluffy tail was tucked over his nose, and his front paws were wrapped around it, holding it there. Tim could hear the soft snores on every inhale. Jason twitched on occasion, clearly dreaming. Tim managed to creep up behind him, silent as shadows, and the cat was none the wiser. Jason was usually far too alert to be snuck up on, even as a human, let alone with feline senses. This was his chance. His only chance.

He readied the camera on his phone and pressed record, pointing it at Jason’s face before gently setting the cucumber he’d nabbed from the kitchen down behind his sleeping brother, careful not to wake him yet. He tied a string around it and held it loosely.

Because the chances to do so and coming away unscathed were few and far between (for him), he took a moment to pet Jay’s head tenderly and scratch behind his ears before trailing lightly down his back. His fur was mostly soft, but was coarser in spots as his winter coat grew in, chilly autumn turning into frosty winter, which explained all the fur floating through the air throughout the manor and the frankly disquieting number of hairballs in everyone’s shoes.. Jay didn’t react, still deep in slumber. Preemptive guilt crept up his spine yet again at the sight, but he steeled his resolve once more, shooing away the voice of doubt saying he could be wrong about this. Remembering the poop stain on his pillowcase was enough to send his hesitance skyrocketing away.

Jason awoke from his practical coma to the sound of his name being called and a hand on his back. He raised his head, seeing it was Timmy who had disturbed his peaceful sleep, the little turd burglar. He yawned widely and gave a big stretch. He was prepared to just move to a spot out of sight and out of reach and go back to sleep, but then he noticed that Tim was holding his phone up, clearly recording him. That never meant anything good. Deciding his best bet was to completely ignore his annoying younger brother, he was mid-turn, about to point his ass right at the camera and walk away when something moved suddenly by his tail. His eye caught sight of something green and vaguely snake shaped.

What happened next was a blur.

His instincts ran wild, and he jumped several feet straight in the air, every hair on his body bristled and standing on end, with a shriek that could wake the dead. When he landed, it was right on Tim’s shoulder, all claws unsheathed and digging hard into skin, the well worn Black Canary World Tour t-shirt he wore providing no real defense. Tim yelped, making Jason jolt again, bouncing off of him and into a very expensive lamp older than both of them combined, sending it crashing to the floor. Jason continued ricocheting, knocking things over, breaking priceless knick-knacks and shredding furniture in a panic, trying to find somewhere safe and failing miserably. Once Tim had mostly recovered from the shock of his newly shredded shoulder, he watched as Jason ping-ponged around the room, realizing he’d made a terrible mistake. And he was dumb enough to catch it all on camera.

Bruce and Alfred both were going to kill him.

Bruce and Alfred both were standing right behind him when he turned around, ready to kill him.

"Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne." Oh shit.

"I would say I can explain but I don't think it'll actually help."

"I suggest you try anyway, Timothy." Oh god, Alfred's dropped the honorifics. He was going to have to explain directly to Alfred. And Bruce wasn't going to act as a buffer because he was now more concerned with soothing Jason, who'd finally ended his panicked whirlwind of destruction, darting under the couch. They could hear his heaving breaths from where they stood. God, he'd really fucked up, he hadn't meant to scare Jay that bad.

"I swear I didn't mean to distress him like this, I was only trying something I'd seen online!" In retrospect, possibly the worst excuse in history, and the distate on Alfred's face made that very clear. "I'm sorry, I really am, it was only supposed to startle him a little and then he'd be fine, but he jumped on me by accident and when I yelled it scared him again and he hit the lamp, and then kept bouncing and it was supposed to be funny! I promise I would never have tried this if I thought it was going to do this!" Tim tried to explain as quickly as possible, unable to meet his grandfather's eyes. He'd hunched his shoulders and winced when it aggravated his new wounds, something that didn't escape the older man's notice. Alfred sighed, and rubbed his temples, an exceedingly rare display of frustration. Tim was honestly ready to cry.

"He jumped on you, you said? Are you injured?"

"I-it's not that bad, I'll be fine."

"Timothy." Tim winced again and let out a hiss as it aggravated the claw marks once more. Alfred's expression softened and he beckoned Tim to come closer and turn around. He lifted his grandson's shirt to check the wounds and tsk'd in worry. They were deep. They'd be fine with some cleaning and proper care, but they'd certainly sting for a few days. Alfred sighed again; this family....

"Come with me lad, I'll patch you up."

"But what about--"

"You and your well being are more important than lamps and vases, child. Make no mistake, I'm disappointed, and you will be cleaning this up later, but that can wait until your injury is clean and you've gotten some sleep."

"...Okay...." Sometimes he still forgot he had a family that cares more about him than they did about their stuff now. It still felt strange, and it made him feel even guiltier for disappointing them.

Yet another sigh, this one more fond. "Chin up, lad. They may have been valuable, but you are priceless. ...And between you and me, I never liked that lamp much."

That managed to bring a smile and a giggle out of Tim, just as intended. With a firm but gentle hand on Tim's back, mindful of the scratches, Alfred led his grandson to the nearest bathroom and the first aid kit within, leaving Bruce to continue coaxing Jason out from under the shredded sofa.

"Jaylad? Sweetheart, it's alright." He knew better than to try to stick his hand under there, and so he stayed kneeling in front of the couch, speakly softly. Jason wouldn't be able to understand him, but he hoped that the quiet and a calm voice would be enough to show him it was okay to come out. There was a pathetic mewl from the dark space beneath the sofa. Jason's breathing had finally eased a bit, at least.

"I know, kiddo, I know that must have been scary, but it's over now, and I just want to make sure you're okay." Bruce made some soft clicking noises.

Jason, for his part, was still trying to come down from the adrenaline rush. He was flopped over on his side. He could see Bruce's hand near the edge of the couch but not under. He felt ridiculous. And guilty. He broke so much shit and he didn't even mean to this time. This wasn't making trouble in the Cave, this was ruining heirlooms and decorations that Alfred has spent decades caring for, things that had belonged to Bruce's parents and ancestors. But there Bruce was, telling him everything was okay. Of course he was, he thought Jason was just a dumb cat that got spooked. ...Guess that wasn't far off this time around. He whined again. Bruce kept speaking softly, trying to draw him out. It was starting to work. He was exhausted and.... Kind of really wanted a hug to be honest.

Jason slowly got to his feet and crept closer to the edge of the couch and meowed. It was only a moment before Bruce's hand came closer, though not too quickly, held out for him to recognize. He sniffed at it and mrrped, rubbing his cheek against it before crawling out. Looking up, Bruce had a gentle but worried expression on his face. "Dad," he meowed, not that he was understood. Though considering the smile he got in return, maybe he was understood well enough.

Bruce's large hand was a comfort as it scratched under his chin and petted his cheek, soothing the leftover anxiety thrumming inside of Jason. Bruce took the time to look him over and make sure he hadn't hurt himself glancing off so many breakables before readjusting to sit cross legged on the floor, leaving room for Jay to climb into his lap... Which he did, standing on his hind legs and reaching up, leaning against his dad's chest and asking to be held. Bruce complied without hesitation and held him tight, his hugs as wonderful as they've ever been.

"You're alright, Jaylad, I'm sorry that scared you so badly. I've got you, sweetheart. Dad's got you." Jason purred, showing contentment as much as to self-soothe, rubbing his cheek against Bruce's and gently headbutting him under the chin, his dad's hand never ceasing it's gentle scratching behind his ears and down his back.

They stayed that way until breakfast. Tim was the first down the stairs after Alfred, clearly not having gotten much sleep despite Alfred's orders, and stopped when he saw his dad and brother on the living room floor. Bruce had readjusted to sit with his back against the couch, his head resting against the front of the arm and snoring softly. Jason was sprawled across his chest still, sleeping as deeply as he'd been when Tim had found him earlier. Tim moved silently to the sofa, sitting down near them. He gave them another moment before he put a hand on his father's shoulder.

"Dad, wake up, it's almost time for breakfast, and your neck and back are gonna be killing you." Bruce made a few unflattering noises as he woke, blinking blearily and rubbing at his eyes.

"Wha?"

Tim couldn't help but laugh a little. Batman, ladies, gentlemen, and others."You slept on the floor all night."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah." Tim looked at Jay, slumbering peacefully as can be, and his guilt from last night reared its ugly head just as he'd forgotten it for a moment.

It was supposed to be funny, but all he did was scare a cat, get scratched, and break heirlooms valuable enough to feed half of Gotham for a year. Damn.

He hoped he wasn't out of line as he reached over and scratched his head. Jason yawned widely and gave a big stretch, grunting, before one green eye popped open and landed on him. The growl released made it plenty obvious how unhappy Jason was with Tim. Tim's hand froze.

Seeing Tim as soon as he woke up for the second time was not what he wanted. The little shit even had the audacity to touch him after all that? Unbelievable. He was going to bite, his mouth already open, when he finally registered the look on Tim's face. Remorseful. Upset. Borderline heartbroken. Clearly miserable and feeling guilty. He huffed.

Damn baby birds, always impossible to stay mad at.

He made a show of sniffing at his hand before nuzzling it with his cheek, purring for a moment

I forgive you.

The smile he got in return was worth the damage his reputation for holding grudges took. That didn't mean he was above milking that guilt and stealing all of Tim's sausage at breakfast though.

[More Cat!Jason posts here]

#cat!jason #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #batfam #batdad #batman #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #damian wayne

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