#Tim probably has to pay too much so that this is not on the front page

[akuworld777]

The newspaper

Tim had told Kon all about the cloning incident, so a year later Tim hadn't really thought about it but now Kon was in his Wayne office wondering, why because Bruce refused to take over the company again unless that Tim would finish his education, but getting back to the point , Kon was there with a book in his hand, a book very very similar to Tim's diary, the diary he started after his dad's death, the diary in which he planned the murderer's death. of his father, even if in the end he did not kill him, diary where all the cloning data is, where each documented attempt is, where…. Where Tim goes crazy and Kon has the diary…

I had thought that he had hidden it, Tim had hidden it with all the cloning things, with the capsule, the generator, the data, the DNA. Tim had hidden it and if he had told Kon the address when he confessed to him about how he had tried it. clone in case he wants to go see, or destroy it, Tm's actually not sure why he told him that, hell he's not sure why he didn't burn everything to the ground, Probably because he was thinking of trying again, after all He only stopped because Cassie intervened and Bruce disappeared, he wasn't dead, Tim had brought him back and he wasn't dead, he wasn't crazy.

Actually Tim had thought that Kon would destroy everything and if he didn't he wouldn't find the diary, but he did and now he's probably here to tell him what an idiot he was, how disgusting he is for trying to clone his best friend 99 times, for that matter. How he kissed Cassie just to feel it, how he planned to use his DNA if the 100th attempt didn't work, trapping him with a baby, it didn't matter that at that moment Kon was dead, that there was actually no one to catch, god Tim It really was disgusting, wasn't it?

Too caught up in his head he didn't notice the intense look Kon was giving him, though his thoughts were cut off by a laugh, “I can't believe it, Cassie told me you were sick when me and Bart died but, I can't believe it.” I said that you kissed her to feel me” probably because he didn't know, Tim thought, although the thought didn't last long as he focused on what Kon was saying. "And although I knew about cloning, I didn't really expect you to have tried so hard, Tim, you were actually going to make a baby with our DNA, as if it were a husband who died and you were the mother who decided to keep the child to remember her dead loved one, it's very soap opera-like”

Tim felt like those words were digging into his conscience. Kon was saying it as if it were something absurd, he didn't seem malicious or angry, but his words felt wrong, it felt like he was making fun of what Tim had gone through, of his feelings. of his unrequited love, as if everything he did was nothing more than a bad joke, as if his mourning was worthless.

Kon seemed to realize the state Tim was in because he stopped laughing, examining him as if he were seeing him with his x-ray vision, examining him thoroughly. Unlike Bruce, Tim didn't mind being used, he felt seen in the way his parents never saw him.

Kon obviously realized something, because Tim felt the tkl pull him closer and suddenly he was trapped in the muscular, tanned arms of a Kryptonian, Tim felt himself melting in the embrace as Kon's ever-present warmth sank into him. his bones, relieving phantom pains that Tim had not even realized were there, it was like returning home, to his home, a home that seemed to have been missing for a while, he could not contain the sigh of satisfaction, but he did not regret leaving it. He left especially because Kon hugged him tighter and surrounded them both with his tactile telekinesis.

"I'm sorry, I didn't express myself well," Kon's voice sounded right next to his ear. that someone could do so much for me, could have fallen so low, could have I've suffered my loss enough to try everything." Tim felt a chill as Kon spoke, while that voice tickled his ear, but he also felt conflicted, a conflict between telling him that it wasn't that big of a deal and telling him that anyone would have done it, Cassie is proof she went and joined a cult because of his death, that he deserved that recognition, that he deserved people to worry about him, but he bit his tongue and let Kon continue instead of interrupting to express how incredible it was. It was Kon and how much it affected everyone that he was not there, how much it affected him.

“I don't want to say that what you did wasn't fucked up, damn it's actually kind of funny I'm a clone and you decided that to bring me back you were going to clone me instead of going to Constantie and making some deal with a god or demon.” Tim continued listening to Kon but made a mental note to dabble in necromancy since Kon seemed open to that and get more blackmail on Constantine, hell next time he would throw Kon's body in a lazarus pit or just jump in a building, before being without him again. As if Kon read his mind, Tim felt a tug on his hair which Kon had been stroking earlier and saw the disapproving look the super gave him.

"I'm sorry… I don't know what happened to me, you were gone, so many people were gone." Tim buried his face in Kon's shoulder. "I was just thinking about bringing you back, about bringing at least a part of you back." lap" Kon sighed “I'm not asking you to apologize Tim, I actually thought you were going to be much worse, it doesn't mean I approve of this but if I had come back to life and you had managed to have another me, I wouldn't have been angry… if you had achieved the “Baby, I wouldn’t be mad either…” The silence after that was louder than if this had been a shouting match, Tim once again confirmed that bats are not made for feelings… or maybe the trauma was simply preventing him from being good at feelings, or something. Maybe it was negligence.

Kon clarified the guarantee and spoke again, “Actually, it had been a year since all this and I probably should have talked to you since I read the entire diary, but I kept putting it off because I didn't know how to tell you this… I didn't know how. explain my feelings and I didn't know if I had really understood yours correctly, the hell I chose this moment because Cassie threatened to destroy the diary if I didn't talk to you and…and I thought that now that a year has passed, it probably won't affect you that much…" The pause felt like a shock so Kon wasted no time in continuing quickly.

“Probably what you feel for me is already gone and I thought if that's how I can deal with rejection… I can deal with that, I'm used to not having much luck in romance and this is Rob, he wouldn't make fun of me or nothing, our relationship could continue….” Kon's voice became lower and lower as if he felt unsure of continuing, but Tim couldn't pay much attention to that, because Kon had just confessed to him, to Tim Drake, he had just confessed and he was actually thinking. that Tim would reject him, he thought that Tim would have gotten bored of him because it had been a year, just a year and Tim wanted to hit him because Tim had been feeling something for him since they were only 4 in young Justice and Kon thought that one year he would to be enough to make Tim forget about his feelings, to make Tim reject him.

Kon had arrived with the damn diary where Tim poured his soul, his sorrow, his pain, his mourning, his love and he had tried to take it with humor as he always did with serious topics trying not to get hurt, the trauma appeared in many forms and everyone They had a way of dealing with him, Kon had always used humor, kind of like Dick. He probably planned to pretend that everything was a joke if Tim rejected him, but Tim would never reject him so he took a deep breath and separated from the hug, the TKL let go easily but at the same time seemed to want to keep him there, Kon looked at him sadly, he seemed resigned and Tim couldn't allow that.

"I still like you… If you hadn't come back in the middle of my search for Bruce, I probably would have done the baby plan after bringing Bruce back, put my DNA and yours in a capsule and spent months hiding creating fake IDs, buying a house, getting a fake job, in some random country and I would have raised the baby there.” It may not be the most poetic or emotional declaration of love, hell in reality he hadn't even said that he loved him or that he liked him but Tim was a vigilante, above all he was a bat and practically Tim's entire life had revolved around heroes and That Tim is confessing to Kon what is basically that he was going to retire from being a vigilante with a test tube baby of the two, was very significant.

“I liked you from the beginning of Young Justice, I may not have loved you that early but I liked you, and after breaking up with Steph I realized that I wasn't that interested in her, because the breakup didn't hurt me that much. Instead I was more focused on the fact that we were going out the next day and that I had nothing to wear, damn Steph helped me choose what to wear because she had also realized it long before me", "you are, nice handsome, you smile seems to light up the day, your hugs are like scorching the home, I can feel the heat, the comfort, the affection, you are like a respite from the pain, the memories are the discomfort, you never judge anything, damn it, I tried to clone you 99 times and you keep saying that you don't blame me for it, even knowing that you had a lot of problems regarding your identity due to cloning, you always support everyone, you always seem to know everything, you never push me or anyone to do things I don't want to do, Hell, when my parents weren't at Christmas or when Bruce and I were arguing, you were the angriest, you always defended me, you gave fucking Jason Todd a threat for trying to kill me, you…" Tim could have spent hours talking about everything good about Kon if he had the time he would even show you his power point and his graph of over 100 reasons why Kon was a unique, admirable person and anyone who said otherwise was obviously a villain, but he couldn't since warm lips that felt like the sun on the morning of a spring day rested on his lips, effectively silencing him.

Tim had priorities and preferred to indulge in the kiss than in his talk about why Kon is the best person in the world, sue him, if Superboy kissed them they surely wouldn't be able to think, much less continue with a speech.

The kiss was perfect, not in the traditional way after all, Tim. And him still didn't know what the other liked and it was a little awkward for it being the first kiss they shared, but the feelings were there, every movement of lip to lip, They told praises of love and professed devotion, each touch was warm and moved the heart of the other, it was a promise, a prophecy fulfilled, a river that overflowed as the minutes passed and the feelings of each one were transmitted in the kiss.

The only thing that brought them out of their concentration was the noise of a pile of leaves falling to the floor. They quickly separated. Tim had thought that Kon had dropped the newspaper but unfortunately they were not so lucky. His assistant Katerin, the substitute since Tam was sick, had just seen 18-year-old Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, kissing Superboy… Tim would have to pay her so much to keep quiet.

#tim drake #Tim Drake/Kon-el #conner kent #kon el #first kiss #fluff #angst #idiots in love #my fic #99 clone #Mad scientist Tim Drake #love #gay #red robin #superboy #timkon #ceo tim drake #mention Bruce Wayne #Mention Cassie #Mention Bart #Mention Jason Todd #Try to clon your best friend 99 times but no homo #xd #Past clone attempt #Mention Tam Fox #year after Red Robin #Tim probably has to pay too much so that this is not on the front page

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead On Main part 7

Masterpost

dedicated to @cervinebotanist and @leafyeyes417 for responding so quickly and with such enthusiasm to part 6. Thank you for the encouragement and support.

Danny takes a deep breath. He can hear scrambling from somewhere else in the car, but he can’t pay attention to what’s happening as he focuses inward. He closes his eyes, and reaches inside himself.

Jason has a tiny baby core! Danny almost coos at it, but it’s so underdeveloped that he’s sad instead. Danny can feel ectoplasm in himself, in Jason’s body. But it isn’t enough. This ectoplasm has been reused, reduced, recycled one too many times. It’s got barely enough to stay alive left in it. Jason is mostly being sustained by his human half right now. It feels like play-doh that turns to dust where it should stretch, dried-out and old. It makes him even more sad. And slightly ill. But the sadness makes the rioting ectoplasm calm back down inside him.

Danny opens his eyes. He’s slightly disoriented, but calm now, eyes no longer glowing. They had stopped the car. He looks at Tim, who is leaning against his door and braced against it and Dick’s chair, giving Danny as much space as possible. His hand is almost on the door handle and his tablet on the floor. Dick and Bruce are exchanging panicked looks in the front seat, both now unbuckled for some reason and completely turned to face the backseat.

“Hey, speaking of ectoplasm, this body really needs some.” Danny informs them. “If it doesn’t get some new ectoplasm soon his core is going to cease functioning, and that would be really bad, and possibly irreversible.” 

“Uhhh.” Dick’s panicked look is turning straight to confusion, as is everyone else’s. “What?” 

“I didn’t realize that Jason was, I mean he had mentioned he died, but he- well, I guess I didn’t want to talk about it over the phone either. Does make it easier to talk about since we’re the same, but of course we couldn’t have known yet. But his core needs some help, do you not have access to ectoplasm back home?” Danny is rambling, brain spinning at the thought of how much he and Jason have in common. This big thing that no one else would truly understand by each other. And Vlad, sort of, but nobody likes Vlad. “It’s amazing that we ended up soulmates. He’s only the third person in the world I’ve even heard about with this condition. How long has he been without ectoplasm? Is he having trouble finding any, or does he not know he needs it? Either way, I’m giving him some as soon as possible.” Danny doesn’t know whether he should freak out over that fact that his soulmate is as dead as he is, that he’s currently dying from lack of ecto, or that his soulmate’s entire family is probably going to end up learning about him and ghosts, or the fact that he is currently taking another body that the GIW is going to want to study straight to them. All of these things seem like great reasons to freak out on their own, so all together he is just panicking.

Danny doesn’t seem to be able to breathe. 

“Hey, come on, that’s fine, you can totally give Jason some… ectoplasm.” Dick says.

“Danny, you have to breathe, okay.” Tim is much calmer than Dick, so Danny focuses on him as Bruce and Dick whisper in the front. “Danny, match my breathing.” Danny stares at Tim, who is making very exaggerated breathing movements, and tries to time his breathing to match. “We’ll figure everything out, but we don’t need to do it right now.” Tim is still helping Danny, talking calmly, but he says this with enough force to distract the two in the front seat enough for them to shut up for a second. Danny appreciates the bit of silence.

“You need to start driving.” Danny, tells Bruce. “Right now, his human half is sustaining the rest of him almost entirely. If Jason doesn’t get more ecto soon, his other half will die, and I’m not sure what will happen to his human side if that happens. He may die again completely.”

There’s a beat of silence in the car. Bruce stares right into Danny’s eyes.

“You are saying there is an active threat to my son’s life, ” Bruce asks, voice hard. 

Danny nods. Then everyone is buckled back in and Bruce is pulling them back onto the road. 

“You know what’s happening and how to help him?” Bruce asks, voice steady but Danny can sense all the emotion underneath. Bruce is really worried right now, he looks around the car and realizes that Dick and Tim are as well. They both have phones out, but are tense, tuned into his conversation with Bruce.

“Yeah, It’s a simple enough fix, I’m just worried because he’s really…” Danny takes a moment to think of the right word. “Ecto deficient? His core is definitely malnourished, and his body and mind definitely need it. They are being sustained with human stuff for now, but eventually that won’t be enough.” 

“How urgent is this?”

Danny feels for Jason’s core, feeling like he’s invading his privacy, but without other options to check. It’s not cracked, but it’s not fully formed either. Half starved baby core, not even strong enough to present. Its link to an obsession is strong, but frayed enough that Danny can’t tell what it is. The core is not strong enough to produce it’s own ecto, even in response to the obsession being fulfilled. Everything is stable, but strained.

“I’m not an expert, but he’s sustained himself this long. And we’re already on the way. We should be fine, but I’ll keep an eye on it just in case.”

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #danny phantom #red hood #my writing #fanfiction #soulmate au

[hana-no-seiiki]

Idk if this is a request or something but I just wanted to get it out there before I forget it. How would the batfam react to a batsis coming from the last of us universe?( the last of us is a zombie apocalypse type game.) How would they react to all of batsis PTSD from being born in a world over ran by zombie’s and learning to survive at a young age. How would they help them? How would they react if they ever were transported to there(batsis) world?

Sorry for this random ask I just wanted to get this out there before I forget about it. Anyway hope you have a great week!

SOFT YANDERE BATFAM x THE LAST OF US! READER BRAINROT

Recently had a TLOU brainrot (at this point it’s more of a heartrot with how devastating the story is eugh) so this came at a perfect timing. I’m guessing batsib (I’ll make it gn I hope you don’t mind anon) has a similar life to elle if they’re not just elle entirely.

I think Batsib would have to be close to the boys before they eventually spill their guts (aka their severe trauma out).

Like when they’re at least 60% there on the yan scale of things.

They see signs like you being hella adamant on the boys at least trying to fix their relationship with Bruce since you know the most out of everyone how it feels to lose a father figure.

You’re the closest with Jason purely because you both have baggage, and luckily you like to talk about it and sort it out.

Your whole life had been the apocalypse so going to Gotham and seeing everything in its prime fascinated you. When the Batfam first took you in due to your status as an anomaly, it took very little to impress you.

But it also took a lot to terrify you.

If we’re going full on Ellie! Reader here then them (batfam) seeing that huge bite mark on your arms, presumably after you’ve dumped info on your past and your reality, almost turned them feral.

It was that moment they decided to never let you go back.

You’re allowed to join them with their vigilante activities as long as you were under strict surveillance.

Bruce is kind of off-put by your nonchalance when it comes to beating up people to a pulp. He had to jump in and stop you from completely killing a dude.

Jason on the other hand approves. Definitely eggs you on.

The rest of the boys, as is my headcannon with any violent MC, get turned on when they see you covered in blood.

In summary, they definitely cherish you more. The spoiling is dialed up to eleven. And since you didn’t know much of the world prior to its apocalypse state, they wouldn’t lock you up like in most cases and instead bring you to explore as much as you’d like.

There is a sick part of them that enjoys your PTSD and how dependent (and distrusting of others) you can be because of it. So unless it gets really bad where you can’t get sleep at all I can see them just not trying to get help for you.

ON THE MORE WHOLESOME SIDE:

I am now imagining reader going to a museum with them all and just climbing the fossil in front of like dozens of people while screaming “LOOK AT ME I’M ON A MOTHERFUCKING DINOSAURRRR!”

Bruce definitely had to pay a lot for that

and all the younger ones + Dick cause he’s Dick throwing fedora hats on all the dinos??? please im on my knees that’s too cute augh-

If they were ever transported in your world, it’d definitely be the other way around. Say you aren’t like Ellie and are completely susceptible to the infection- oof you might as well just be in jail.

They’ll disinfect everything. Masks 24/7. Generally just extremely careful as to not get infected or infect you in any shape or form.

Tim has already researched on fungal infections so you bet he’s ready. Wouldn’t be surprised if he single-handedly ends the apocalypse with how thorough he was. Him, Dick, and Alfred focus more on taking care of you.

Jason and Damian are more with survival and the annihilation of anything that may be dangerous to you within the vicinity. May it be zombies, thieves, the military and what not.

Bruce is probably tinkering on more equipment and helping Tim with actually getting rid of the fungi. The former will definitely use his charm and looks to get more supplies.

In short, these dudes have everything on lockdown.

You’ll wish you didn’t come back to your original world.

A.N. I hope this was to your liking anon!

#yandere batfam #yandere x reader #damian wayne x reader #yandere #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batman #yandere batman x reader #yandere robin x reader #yandere nightwing x reader #yandere nightwing #yandere robin #batfam #batfam x reader

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Dunno if you’ve already done this and you don’t have to, but how about m!greaser casually giving the gang + Shepard siblings the ultimate princess treatment??

I’m talking like MAJOR princess treatment. Holding doors without asking, popping off beer caps, lighting cigs with his own lighter, bridal-carrying them away from a rumble when they’re hurt, etc etc. m!greaser isn’t even teasing abt it too, he’s genuinely just a whole ass gentleman

Of course anon!!! I love this request 🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️

Ponyboy Curtis

-he’s surprised whenever you start treating him like damn royalty

-honored but surprised

-he loves the treatment he gets from you

-he always makes sure to say thank you

-he loves leaning on your shoulder when you carry him back from getting hurt

-he reads you stories that you fall asleep to as a way of saying thanks

-the other greasers tease him so hard about it tho

-he would do the same things for you that you do for him (:

Johnny Cade

-wow

-he’s like so not used to people treating him with baseline kindness or respect

-so you goin get extra more to do these things

-to light his cigarette, always make sure he has a place to stay for the night, bridal carry him at the slightest injury

-he’s pretty grateful

-also gets pretty flustered whenever you do it

-always says a quiet, “thank you” with a tiny smile

Sodapop Curtis

-he’s often overlooked as the middle Curtis sibling

-and he’s really only used to people doing things for him

-well, because he’s pretty. He has pretty privilege and he knows that

-and whenever you do these things for him

-just because he’s sodapop

-it’s what makes him give you genuine grins

-not his fake, charming demeanor that he so often carries

-but a genuine smile is what you bring to his face when you do these things

-and he’ll kiss your cheek 😊

Darry Curtis

-he does the same thing tbh

-most gentlemanly out of all of them

-you two are so mutually so sweet to each other

-but it backfires sometimes because you both want to do the same nice things for each other

-probably the most stable couple

-I really ship yall personally

-you guys would spend like 45 minutes fighting over who pays the bill at dates though 💀💀

Dallas Winston

-the least gentlemanly

-bro just does not think about much other than his own surroundings

-💀💀

-but he would definitely smirk whenever you do those things for him

-“Well ain’t you a doll, y/n?”

-that’s kinda the most thanks you’ll get 💀

-deep down he’s grateful but it takes him MONTHS of dating for him to even mutter thanks

-would not let you carry him though

-his egos too heavy anyway 😔

Two Bit Mathews

-he’d make jokes

-it’s two bit what do you expect

-but like jokes of affection

-really cheesy

-If you lit his cigarette “Y’know what else you set on fire? My heart.”

-if you carried him “Givin’ me a preview of the wedding hm? I see you…”

-and ur like two bit you literally broke your ankle

-but he’s actually really grateful whenever you do those things for him

-🫶

Steve Randle

-he would act nonchalant about it

-but he would totally care

-and brag to Sodapop about you and all you do for him

-and would try to kind of pay you back by spending his free time always upgrading or working on your car

-but he still mutters thank you to you

-but shows his full gratitude in other ways

Tim Shepard

-he’s absolutely not used to this

-he’s pretty smug whenever you do it though

-and definitely shows you off for it

Curly Shepard

-he would definitely be smug in a similar way to him

-like heh yeah my baby treats me like a goddamn king

-he would kiss you in front of anyone every time you do something for him

Angela Shepard

-she’s so cute

-she’s so grateful because most of the guys she’s dated have been dicks to her

-and when you come along and treat her like a princess she wants to cry tbh

-she gives you so many hugs n kisses

#urlocalnonbinarybastardwritesanswers #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders headcanons #two bit mathews #johnny cade #the outsiders #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #angela shepard #curly shepard #tim shepard

[mac-cheez]

I feel like at this point the Waynes kinda have to be unhinged chaos children at this point. Like, if they start having a sane streak then the news will just start fiending for Wayne drama to the point of harassing random strangers.

Like one day Tim pays for a lady's coffee cause she complimented his shirt or some shit, and she immediately gets mobbed and asked if she's his secret girlfriend or some shit(bonus points if she seems slightly too old or young).

So shit like this all comes to a head when a younger family friend/acquaintance gets fucking bombarded by the press at the front fucking door.

It could be anyone like Wally or Roy, but my personal favorite is just some rando kid of an acquaintance of Bruce who needs a place to crash while at uni or something(I do have a backstory for someone like this in my writing drafts but idk if ill post it). TLDR: Random Child at Wayne Manor.

One day to help Alfred out they head to the mailbox to grab the mail, or maybe they are about to get in their car, all that matters is that they are within reach. And once that happens they immediately drown in the plethora of questions from the press.

There so much talking that they can't hear a word and upon hearing the question "Is any of this true", they say yes to make them happy and immediately run back inside because they probably don't have press training.

This leads to huge headlines about the "New Wayne Kid!?!" and Bruce and his PR team have a heart attack. The kids are split between worry for the rando and unmatched amusement at the situation. Eventually, it gets straightened out after a press conference with Bruce, rando, and their current parental figures or lawyer if there is none.

Basically, it's now mandated that the Batfam has to have at least one crazy nondetrimental headline a month just to make sure the press is well-fed.

Edit: I wrote it........

#Mostly so the PR team doesnt Keel over from stress #Bruce is main contributor #Galas are free for alls if its been quite #batfamily #robins #batkids #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #headcanon #Gotham Gossip Is Crazy #batman #dc comics #my posts

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter four: walking slow (i’m all alone) | read chapter three

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5k

━ warnings: blood, minor injury

━ masterlist

“So, what brings you to Keystone? Internship?”

You watch Flash serve himself a cherry Slurpee. Then after a moment of contemplation, pick up another cup and serve blue raspberry. 

Your eyebrows raise but you still answer. “Yeah. Internship.”

“You go to GU, then? Who are you working for?”

You blink and he’s at the counter, one blue raspberry Slurpee set in front of you, with him already sipping on his as he awaits your answer. 

“I’m here for Quickstart.”

“Quickstart, huh? Workin’ with Jesse Chambers?”

“Hardly. I’m just an underling with the PR department.” 

The company’s main location was in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, anyway, so Jesse Chambers, Quickstart Enterprises’ CEO, could be found there. Not to say she didn’t drop into Keystone’s location, though. She did. Quite frequently, according to your supervisor. 

“So you came all the way out here for it. They have a location in Gotham, don’t they?”

“Harder to get into,” you say dryly. “Plus, I couldn’t afford to study abroad, so this is the next best thing.”

He laughs. The sound surprises you, mostly because it sounds genuine. Any attempts to squash down your own pleasure at making him—a world renowned superhero—laugh that way fails tremendously. Oh, well. You’re only human. Anyone would appreciate making one of these guys genuinely laugh. If you made Wonder Woman laugh, you think your life would be complete. You could die there and wouldn’t be upset about it.

(Flash is cool but he’s not that cool, sorry.) 

His laughter tapers off, a smile lingering behind. He gestures to the Slurpee. 

“That’s for you, you know.”

“I didn’t want to assume.”

“Assume.”

Your lips twitch. “Thank you. I’ll pay for it.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? Kid, I wouldn’t get it for you and make you pay for it. That’s messed up. I’m paying for it.”

“You don’t—”

“So!” He belches, then pats his stomach. “‘Scuse me. What’s the dream, then? Y’wanna work at Quickstart after you graduate?”

You sip at the Slurpee. “Not necessarily… but I wouldn’t say no to it.”

“Then?”

You lift a shoulder. “Wayne Enterprises, probably.”

“Ooh. The big one. Not LexCorp? I hear the going rate for a spokesperson there is high…”

“Yeah, because they have to constantly field rumors about illicit R&D projects and illegal Kryptonite shipments.”

He barks a laugh and you shake your head, smiling. 

“Yeah, no, I’ll pass. WE has a better track record and they still pay well.”

“True enough. Probably also less likely to be indicted as an accomplice for something or another.”

“Exactly.”

“Ever thought about the Titans? Or the League?” 

“And be at constant risk of kidnapping or death?”

“To be fair, I think you have that risk when working at Wayne Enterprises, too. And also, we are obligated by contract to rescue any and all employees that get kidnapped.”

“The fact that that is a clause in an employee contract is a bit of a red flag.”

“Or a green flag,” he counters. “Wayne probably doesn’t have that. If you get kidnapped, that’s it. You’re just—gone.”

“That’s… a comforting thought.”

“Just sayin’. Though I guess the average person would be much happier with something ‘normal’ like WE. Family and loved ones, too.”

You nod thoughtlessly. “If my parents were alive, I’m sure they’d prefer that.”

He blinks. You wince. Right…

You take a sometimes flippant approach to the death of your parents; if anyone makes dead parent jokes the most between you and Tim, it is definitely you, though they never cease to amuse him and Steph. 

“It’s nothing,” you say in the next moment, glancing up at him. “Sorry.”

He huffs. “Jeez, what are you apologizing for? If anyone should—”

“It’s fine, Flash. It happened when I was a teenager. I have a bad habit of joking about it just to… not make things too heavy.”

“Sure. Sure. I get it. I’m, like, the leading authority on using comedy as a defense mechanism.”

You laugh. “Very self-aware.”

“I try.” He pauses, head tilting as he looks at you. “I am sorry, though. That they’re gone.”

You smile bracingly and shrug. “Can’t change it. But thanks.”

“And it’s cool what you want to do. Really. Good luck at Quickstart.”

You smile and it feels genuine.  

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up, then he’s gone, blue lightning zapping in his wake, fine hairs on your arms raising because of it. The accompanying gust of wind knocks some stuff off the shelves but you don’t mind.

Flash isn’t so bad. Not bad at all.

“So… what’s your story?”

“In the present, I am being harassed by a vigilante—”

A soft groan. “Come on. You know what I mean.”

You suppress a smile, fixing the display of Lays chips. Next to you, Red Robin watches you for a moment, then does the same for a display of Takis.

“Don’t you already know?”

“What makes you say that?”

People call Batman the world’s greatest detective. You’re sure the trait has to pass down to his underlings.

You relay that to Red, who huffs.

“We are not his underlings. That’s a little offensive, you know.”

“You know what I mean,” you say, throwing his earlier words back to him, stepping over to the candy section, organizing packs of gummy bears and gummy worms. 

You partially expect him to get annoyed again but he lets out a soft snicker, amused by something. Your gall, maybe.

But after thinking about it for a while, you are the person with the advantage here. After all, Steph and Tim know you are getting vigilantes as visitors. Even if you piss him or any of the others off, if they do something, you very much trust your friends to raise hell about it. 

And, well, there is something deceptively familiar about Red Robin. Enough so to lure you into this weird sense of comfort. Like he’s a friend or something.

(Which is ridiculous. You know that. But you can feel that way as long as you acknowledge it.)

“Pass me some gummy bears? Thanks. Well, it is true that I could get that information—”

“Not have?”

“I like to give people the benefit of doubt.”

“Really?”

“Give me a break,” he complains but you catch the twitch of his lips as he fights a smile. 

“Alright,” you relent. “You were saying?”

He shrugs. “A record is just a record. It’s not the full picture, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“So.” He makes an aimless gesture to you. “Fill in the gaps for me?”

You finally chuckle. “There’s not much to tell, Red. I was born here. Have lived here all my life. Parents are dead. Died in the earthquake. That’s really it.” 

“Sorry about your parents,” he offers.

“It’s fine.”

“But that can’t be it.”

“You seem very certain about that.”

“W-Well,” he stammers, making your eyebrows raise. “Just—call it a hunch.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say doubtfully. “Is there something specific you’re after?”

He relaxes some. “I mean… you’re in school, right?” 

You nod, deciding to pause your work right now to focus on this conversation, a bit curious yourself as to why he even wants to know. 

To better his reputation, perhaps. It is not wrong to say you have your own reservations regarding the city’s vigilantes but again, that’s just a side effect of their effective management of it—ruling by fear. Why change that for you? You’re no one special. 

“So… what do you want to do when you graduate? Any hopes and dreams? Anywhere you want to work?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You sound like my friends,” you say, shaking your head.

Steph knows where you’d like to work. The answer has been the same since you started college and picked your major. The dream is somewhere like Wayne Enterprises. One of the few companies that you actually trust, that you think are doing good work for the world. 

But you obviously can’t say that to Tim, whose adoptive father owns the company. 

Steph says you can. That he’s not going to think you’re telling him that to get a leg-up in the application process. You believe it, too. You’ve known Tim long enough for at least that. But it’s still a little bit embarrassing.

“It can’t be that bad. It’s not, like… LexCorp, right?”

You laugh. “No way. Of course not.”

His lips curve, seemingly pleased by something. “Then?”

You scratch your cheek. “I dunno. Wayne Enterprises, I guess. They’re not… the worst.”

“No LexCorp, that’s for sure.”

“Half of the appeal.”

“What’s so wrong with wanting to work there?” he asks next, head tilting.

“Ah, you know…” you say evasively, turning to resume your work. “Everyone and their dog wants to work there. For a good reason, of course. I dunno. Guess I just feel a little basic for it.”

That’s a lie, of course. You’re embarrassed because of your connection to Tim and his connection to the company. Like out of all the companies that you actually want to work at… it’s the one his adoptive father owns. It’s the one where Tim himself had a brief stint as major shareholder when he was seventeen. Where he worked there for several years and only recently began cutting his work back…

He sits on that for a while, following you around like a persistent puppy as you organize things. 

“I think it’s a cool aspiration,” he eventually says after he helps carry a box of candy and chips to be restocked, kneeling on the shitty tiled floors to help you.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“And I don’t think you should be embarrassed about it… they try to do good at WE. Nothing wrong with wanting to join to help that.”

“Well, it’s not that selfless. I’d really be there to get them publicity and cover up scandals.”

He snickers. “Still. I’m sure your friends would support you, too.”

“They would,” you agree, sighing. 

“Is that bad?”

“It’s complicated,” you say vaguely.

“Un-complicate it.”

“Not a word. Also not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

The box with the chips is full of those styrofoam packing peanuts. You grab a bag of chips, then one of the packing peanuts, tossing it at him. He barely reacts as it bounces off the bridge of his nose, looking steadily at you. 

“Why does it matter to you?”

“I don’t know. I’m curious.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“You’re curious? Is that specific to now or in general? Because…” Can’t help but prod just a little at his intentions because it surely has to be something more than trying to prove a point. 

“Is it concerning for you to have my curiosity?” he asks lightly.

“Befuddling is a better word. You still haven’t answered my question, by the way.”

You have entirely abandoned the task at hand. Red is fine to stay crouching, not even once swaying on his feet as he shifts to face you more fully, but you are not him, so you settle on the tile, legs crossed underneath you as you look at him expectantly.

He tilts his head. You can’t help the way your eyes cling to the shift of his dark hair. It feels so familiar to you. Everything about him. Although this moment, the sudden tension, is not so familiar. The worst part is you can’t even decide whether it’s good tension or bad tension. He’s… annoying. 

(Beguiling, really.)

He sighs, the sound amused rather than tired, and your eyes can’t help but catch the lift of his lips. Pink and… very soft-looking. 

“Alright, fine,” he says. “I’m curious in general about you. As for the why… you’re not the worst company I’ve ever kept.”

“And considering—”

“Considering the company I keep are the others, who are fine within their own right, as well as the likes of criminals, you’re a breath of fresh air.”

Your face goes hot. “So, the bar isn’t very high.”

“What, do you care for what I think?” he asks and something about his tone, gently teasing, makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

“Of course not.”

“Really? Sort of seems like you do.”

Can’t deny that. Not with how flustered you’re growing. So, you deflect.

“And you?”

“I admit to it,” he says easily, shrugging, still smiling. “Like I said, you’re not the worst company I’ve ever kept. I like you. I want to learn more about you. And manage to stay on your good side, too.”

“You aren’t doing a good job.”

He leans forward, curve of his lips settling into something almost like a smirk. “Aren’t I?”

You glower at him. “You suck, you know that?”

He leans back, pleased as the cat that got the canary. “Whatever you say.”

Ugh.

It was a particular kind of pathetic to be treasuring all the things Tim ever gave you since he, you know, doesn’t talk to you much these days.

But you have to get your Tim Drake fill in somehow.

Today’s activity is the few playlists he’s ever shared with you, mostly alternative and indie, playing on the speakers overhead. Though it includes more than a couple Bruce Springsteen songs as well, again, in homage of his father. You and Steph can hardly tease him about it, other than maybe a poke at his affinity for listening to older groups, like Oasis. 

Either way, you aren’t thinking of making fun of him for it.

Mostly, you just miss him. 

Like you always do these days, accompanied with the usual soul-crushing guilt at the fact, at the why behind it. 

In this moment, however, you are not so willing to partake in the usual moral quandary or self-flagellation. 

Like you said, mostly, you’re caught up in missing him. 

“You know, I realized I never got around to asking how you are.”

Red’s voice startles you from serving yourself a cup of blue raspberry Slurpee. You barely heard him come inside…

A frown tugs at your lips. His voice sounds weird. 

Nonetheless, you press a cap to the cup and respond. “How I am in regards to what?”

“Everything that happened that night with Huntress.”

You step around the aisle. “I’m—holy shit, dude!”

Blood flows heavily from his nose. A bruise is already forming on his cheek and he leans against the counter, gloved hand cupped to his bleeding nose. Something about it doesn't sit right with you, stomach rolling at the sight of him injured like this. 

“It—it really looks worse than it looks.”

You turn sharply, not responding to that as you set your cup aside and snatch up several napkins, then stride back over to him. He takes them from you quickly, using them to stem the blood flow, leaning his head forward. As he does so, you spot a cut on his temple, bleeding heavily, too. 

“Jesus, Red, are you okay?”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Shouldn’t I be asking that? You heard me, right?”

“That is so not the point right now. Wait here. We have some first aid stuff…”

“You don’t have to—”

“Save the heroics, Red. I do.” 

He reads the tension in your voice, falling silent. You take it as the sign to do what you need to, turning again to find the aisle with toiletries. You get what you need, then go back to him, finding him sitting on the floor now, napkins still pressed to his nose.

“Broken?”

His head lifts slightly at the sound of your voice. You sit down next to him.

“No, luckily. Just… got hit hard.”

“I can tell,” you say, frowning, eyeing the bruise on his cheek. “How’s the bleeding?”

“Starting to slow. Should be a couple more minutes. I’ll be fine.”

You purse your lips and don’t respond, instead opening up your supplies to take care of the cut on his temple. 

“You really don’t have to, you know.”

“And yet, you get to come in here and check up on me?”

“Kind of my job, isn’t it?”

“Since when has any of this just been about that?”

A brief moment of silence as you rip open an antiseptic pad, wiping your hands, the acrid smell of alcohol burning your nostrils. 

Finally, he lets out a tired chuckle. “You got me there.”

“Unfortunate that you had to stumble in like this to get that,” you murmur, reaching up for him with another antiseptic pad but pausing before you touch him. “Can I?”

“Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.”

You carefully push away his hair; it is damp with sweat, as is his hairline. Most likely from the oppressive heat and humidity and from whatever fight he just came from. 

“Gonna sting,” you say in warning, then press the pad to the cut. As it soaks up the blood and cleans the cut, you get a better look at it. Not too big or too deep. Head wounds always bleed excessively.

He says that exact thing in the next second.

For whatever reason, it endears you, your lips twitching, injecting some much-needed levity.

“I know,” you say simply. “Doesn’t look too bad, either. Not like it needs stitches, anyway.”

“Good. My patrol isn’t over yet.”

You sigh, shifting onto your knees next to him as you discard the bloodied pad, reaching for another one to clean the area around it. 

“Can’t tone down the savior complex even a little bit, can you?”

“I appreciate your help,” is all he says.

“It’s nothing. And, anyway, to answer your previous question… I’m fine. I’m used to that kind of stuff.”

“That’s not reassuring, you know that, right?”

You give him a look. “I don’t think you get to say that. But your concern is noted.”

He sighs. “There’s that, I guess. If you need to talk—”

“I know,” you say, cutting him off gently. “I know, Red. Let me finish this up…”

You find a band-aid large enough to cover the cut, carefully pressing it onto his temple.

“Should be more careful. This area is… dangerous,” you murmur, tapping lightly at the band-aid on his temple. You’ve seen and heard enough about people taking hits there and going down permanently. The thought of that happening to Red unsettles you deeply, something cold twisting your insides.

But Red doesn’t appear to be listening to you. Instead, he’s… listening to something else. You think it’s some kind of comms, initially, but then you realize he’s listening to the song currently playing overhead. Which you quickly recognize.  

“I’m On Fire? Really? Didn’t peg you as a Bruce Springsteen fan.”

It’s obviously meant as a tease and you need to put a stop to the growing grin on his lips immediately. The only one allowed to get flustered here is him. Fair’s fair, after all, after last week’s conversation. 

“Not a fan. It’s from a friend’s playlist.”

He blinks, expression rapidly morphing into surprise. “A—friend?”

“Yes, I do have friends. I’ve mentioned this before. It’s not mine, it’s his.”

“I… see.” 

He pulls the wad of napkins away from his nose in that moment, successfully redirecting your attention from his odd reaction. You lean around to get a look. Blood smears over his upper lip, the shadow of a bruise starting to form on his nose, swollen, too.

“Well?”

“Don’t worry,” you drawl. “You’ve still got the pretty boy thing going on.”

“That’s—” he stops and you watch, stunned, as he actually, honest-to-god, blushes.

Holy shit.

“That’s not what I was asking,” he eventually mutters, looking away sharply.

It amuses you, for some reason, and you suppress a smile. “Well, still. Sleep easy tonight knowing your good looks are not tarnished—”

He shakes his head. “You’re… really something, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “It looks fine, by the way. Like you need to ice it—and your cheek—but fine. Not broken. You were right. Hold on.”

You get up and grab a can of Zesti from the fridges, then go back over to him. He takes it, pressing it over his nose and cheek, and you seat yourself next to him again, shuffling the used pads and supplies into a small pile, frowning a bit to yourself as you realize there are more pads than you recall. 

You don’t ask why or how he got these injuries. Not sure if he’d tell you. Not sure you want to hear about it, anyway. 

A bit of a stark reminder about what he does, isn’t it?

“So…” he starts a second later, pulling you from your increasingly morbid thoughts. 

You narrow your eyes at seeing fresh mischief on his face. This won’t bode well for you.

“Yes?”

“By you saying all that stuff about my ‘good looks’ and ‘pretty boy thing,’ that means you think that, too, right?”

“You aren’t half-bad to look at,” you concede, shoving down your embarrassment at being called out and admitting it, too. But in a roundabout way. Much better than stating quite plainly you do find him a little bit attractive. But that’s all it is. Attraction. Appreciation of a pretty face. 

“Not half-bad?” he asks, laughing. “Because that’s a nice way to put it.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

A smile lingers on his lips as he looks at you and you can’t stop your own from mirroring his.

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” he says, glancing away first, gloved hand—clean from the blood now, which explains the extra antiseptic pads—reaching for his utility belt. “You took on the painstaking job of patching me up.”

“Wasn’t that painstaking, Red. Just cleaned the cut and slapped a band-aid on it. Band-aid is probably doing more work than me.”

“Still. For your efforts…” He produces a lollipop from one of the pouches on his belt with a flourish.

You blink. “You… keep lollipops in that thing?”

“Helps if we’re handling a kid,” he says and oh, okay, yeah, that makes more sense, you think, taking the lollipop and unwrapping it. 

“All of you?”

“Batman started it first.”

The thought of Gotham’s resident caped crusader carrying lollipops in his utility belt is an amusing, if not incredulous, one.

Red sees must see the doubt on your face, snickering. “I’m being totally serious.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just messing with me. This is payback for the half-bad thing, isn’t it?”

He laughs. The sound is achingly familiar as usual but the full picture of why it is familiar escapes you—like it always does.

“It’s not, I swear.”

“Sure,” you say. “Gotta be a hassle to remember exactly where it is, though, right? Since you apparently keep all manners of things in there?”

“Just what we need.”

“So, like, an arsenal of weapons.”

“Tools,” he corrects.

“Uh-huh.”

He fiddles with another pouch, pulling out something that you immediately recognize as a batarang. 

You've only glimpsed these but you’ve never seen one up close. The metal glints under the light. 

“Can I—?”

“Just be careful. Easy to slice yourself.”

You bet. 

The metal is cold under your fingertips, an unfamiliar weight but not heavy, exactly. 

Some people like to try their luck and keep batarangs they find as mementos, or sell them on the black market but the word on the street is that the Bats have never left one unattended; the people who take them never mention a direct confrontation, just that one day they have it and the next, they can’t find it, which, in your personal opinion, is more unsettling than a direct confrontation. But hey, maybe that’s just you.

“This would be useless without me,” he points out. 

“Right. Your batarang. Weird name, by the way.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You just put bat at the front.”

“It’s a great name. And also I didn’t name it. This was already named by the time I came into the scene.”

He seems a tad determined to make you understand that. 

“I don’t know,” you say, pretending to give it thought. “You do seem the type to give obvious names. Like naming a Dalmatian Spot. Call a batarang a batarang.”

“I didn’t name it,” he repeats again. 

But you just laugh.

You laugh and laugh and laugh, thinking this might be the most honest portrayal of him and the others that you have ever seen. 

And it’s nice.

It’s… it’s nice.

(He isn’t so bad.)

“Wow. This is great. Like wallpaper levels of goodness.”

A snort. “I should hope so. You have no idea how many mosquitos bit me when I was up there taking the pictures.” 

Tim raises his arm and you lift your gaze from the screen of his camera to behold the few red mosquito bite on his forearm. 

“So, you didn’t listen to Alfred, is what you’re saying?”

“It’s April,” he mutters, dropping his arm, head shifting from its place in your lap. “It’s unnatural for mosquitos to be out already. Didn’t think I’d need the spray ‘cause of it.”

You pat his head comfortingly. “Well, your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. This is really good, Timmy.”

You look back at the camera screen, where a picture of Gotham sits, captured from the top of Spillkin Hill in Bristol, affording a view of the entire city bathed in the golden rays of the sunset. 

“Thanks,” he says, sounding just a little embarrassed. 

When you glance at him over the camera, his head is turned, gazing out at the rest of the mostly empty quad, cheeks suspiciously red. If you pointed it out, he would blame it on the shining sun overhead. Even if you two are thoroughly hidden from the brunt of its rays beneath this large oak tree, only slivers of sunlight slipping through the canopy, casting leaf-shaped patches of light onto you.

The sunglasses on his face prevent you from seeing his gaze but it’s most likely the same—away from you, focused on something else. Tim gives as good as he gets but he’s become easier to fluster these days, after your return from the internship last semester. Especially with you. You aren’t sure why but the reactions are always amusing and stupidly endearing, so you don’t say anything about it. 

You two are waiting for Steph to get out of one of her psych classes, then the three of you are going to hit up Big Belly Burger and do some mini-golf afterward. Tim’s older sister and another one of Steph’s close friends, Cass, is tagging along. You like her. You two work on the same wavelength sometimes. 

Right now, you are just trying to enjoy this much-needed peace and quiet. The approach of finals is stressful as it always is but the good thing about it is that the quad is nearly empty right now; most students tucked away in the library, in class, or holed up in their dorms procrastinating their work. Plus, the thought of the summer off from class after—working still, but no finals or midterms to stress about—is a revitalizing one. 

You pass him back the camera—carefully, since it’s more expensive than a single class here at GU—and lean back on your palms, cool grass tickling your skin. Your allergies are going to have a field day with this but you don’t care too much about it. Not with Tim’s head planted in your lap, a reassuring, comforting, weight on your thighs. 

His attention is fixed on the camera again, flicking through pictures. You keep your gaze elsewhere, to give him his privacy, though you can’t help but tease him a little bit.

“Can you even see those pictures with these?” you ask, looping your index finger around the arm of the sunglasses, lifting them from his face. He scrunches up his nose in response and you laugh, terribly, terribly endeared.

To reacclimatize from the whirlwind of warm feelings inside your chest, you slide them on, smiling down at him when he squints up at you, clearly having to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Another flash of warmth in your chest.

Before you can do anything else, though, your eyes accidentally catch the screen of his camera and promptly widen as you realize what you are looking at.

Or better yet—who.

“Is that me?” you ask dumbly, because obviously it is you. 

It’s you, sitting out in the quad, a textbook in your lap, head tilted as you read its contents; simple and boring, by any means, yet, the focus of the camera and the sunlight falling over you turns it into something else entirely. 

You have absolutely no recollection of him taking this picture. 

His eyes widen—soft blue from the sunlight, pretty as always, you can’t help but notice—and he looks at the screen, too, grimacing. 

“Uh… yeah.”

Suddenly, you’re thankful for the sunglasses as heat settles in your face.

“It’s… it’s nice, Tim.”

“It’s—weird, I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he starts to sit up.

“No, no, no,” you quickly say, hand pressing to his shoulder, keeping him where he is. “It’s not. Really. I don’t… I don’t mind.”

You’re really overheating now but you don’t want him to go into panic mode and close off. Which is what you feel like might happen if you let him continue.

He looks at you carefully, studying you. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just… candid, right? Besides it’s you. And I know you’re not a weirdo stalker—” you poke his cheek teasingly “—so… I don’t mind. It’s nice. Nicer than I actually look, so… y’know. Thanks.”

A frown. “You always look nice.” A wince. “I mean, not nice, w-well, yes nice, just—you know, uh, pretty.”

You smile, once again hopelessly endeared; the feeling helpfully overtakes the sudden shyness at him calling you pretty, which is… something you will set aside for the moment. “Thanks, Timmy.”

He nods, seeming resolute to not look at you as he quickly flicks to the next picture; you make a conscious effort not to look at the screen this time. Your gaze lingers on his face—thank you, sunglasses—where his cheeks are still red and so are the tips of his ears.

You bite down a smile and finally look away. 

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[nerdpoe]

TWINcognito mode Part 4 (Tim and Danny Pretend to be Twins AU) (is it still pretending if they genuinely consider each other as twins?)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, AO3

Danny had a bandage on his hand.

Tim stared at it, then his twin, then the hospital room around them, and finally at Jason.

“Jason what the fuck,” he breathed quietly, gesturing helplessly at the hospital patient on the bed.

“No, you’re what the fuck,” Jason hissed, shoving a finger in Tim’s chest, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Well fuck you Replacement, I know where you keep your precious BatMobile and I’m not afraid to torch it.”

How the hell did Jason know where the secret BatMobile was?

Wait, not important.

“Danny, you good?” Tim asked, pushing Jason’s hand away and moving towards his probably slightly high twin, “Did he cut off any fingers?” Did Tim have to cut off any of Jason’s in return?

Because he’d do it. He’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.

Jason could stand to lose a few fingers.

Danny’s too-wide eyes gazed into his, and then the little shit started giggling nonstop.

“Oh yeah, they gave him morphine. Did it even though I told them that giving a meta morphine is a bad idea, but I think they thought he was you, so. They learned the hard way.”

There was energy dancing in arcs around Danny’s fingertips, and Tim was fairly certain he knew that the fake incident of blasting a hole in the wall had just become a real one.

“Tim?” Danny asked, reaching out and burning the lapel he’d managed to grab with the energy running unchecked through his hands.

Tim was so suing the hospital for this.

“Yes, Danny?” He sighed, delicately removing the sparking appendage from his clothes.

“Tim, I think I broke a wall.”

“That’s fine, they deserved it for not listening to your medical proxy.”

Tim heard Jason distantly give a flat “What”.

It was fine, a few seconds of typing and it’d look like Jason had always been a listed emergency contact and medical proxy. He could figure out how to explain that to Bruce later.

He’d also need one of Jason’s aliases.

“Everything is moving, and the ceiling is melting.”

Tim frowned. Usually when he saw shit like that it meant-

-Danny abruptly leaned forward and emptied his stomach on Tim’s shoes.

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the sound of Jason’s hysterical laughter.

He could also hear a few shutter clicks, god damn it, one of the vultures had trailed in after him.

"Jason, two mill to play bodyguard and handle the vulture behind me."

The laughter stopped abruptly, and Jason went after the paparazzi with far too much enthusiasm.

Tim listened to the distant sound of a bone breaking and agonized screams as he reached forward and rubbed Danny's back.

Danny whined, leaning into his stomach.

"Don't worry; I've got everything handled," Tim was already texting his team of lawyers in one group chat and the Wayne Industries PR team in another.

He'd take care of it; taking care of family was what he did best.

~~~~~~

The phone rang exactly twice before it was picked up.

“Bruce Wayne speaking,” Bruce Wayne answered, not really paying attention to his work phone as he focused on the blueprints to Black Masks newest HQ in front of him.

“Mr. Wayne, we understand that you have a good working relationship with us at the Daily Planet, for all that we’re from your sister city,” a nervous voice sounded on the other side, and Bruce was suddenly paying attention, “And we were wondering if you would be willing to have an interview concerning Tim Drake-Wayne’s hidden twin? The public has many questions, and you know that we’ll treat the story with the respect it des-”

“Danny doesn’t like reporters,” Bruce lied through his teeth; he had no idea what Danny did or did not like, and he would address the lack of press coverage later once he found out what was going on, “How did this get out?”

“Ah, well there may have been a slight incident at the local hospital, and it’s a little hard to hide a wall with a hole blown in it from a high meta.”

What.

“What hospital?”

The line went quiet.

“I…I’m feeling a bit like I’ve just ratted them out, sir.”

“I’m their father, it’s fine; what hospital?”

“Gotham General, sir. Mr. Daniel’s bodyguard broke a paparazzi’s legs as well, so…there’s also questions about using excessive force.”

Bruce allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and lament his quiet evening.

That was Jason. That was 100% Jason. This was absolutely something that had happened between the twins and Jason that they hadn’t wanted Bruce to know.

“I’ll get back to you on that interview,” Bruce said, hanging up without waiting for so much as a goodbye.

Without a word, he walked out of the BatCave and headed towards the garage, trying to occupy his mind to steer it away from imagining catastrophic injuries.

How unfortunate that his brain was insistent on catastrophizing something, and if it wasn’t allowed to imagine injuries, it was going to find something else.

Danny had been largely unknown to the press.

Gotham press Bruce could understand; they would understand the unspoken rule laid out by Janet and Jack to Not Talk About The Twin. But Metropolis news? They wouldn’t care at all.

There would have been reports on it. The Daily Planet would have called to ask for a story on property damage, not about the ‘hidden twin’.

There were other inconsistencies.

There were no pictures of Danny in the Manor, aside from the new one on the mantel that Alfred had managed to get the boy to sit still for. However, he was in the background of all of the photos he’d found of the Drake family online.

If it wasn’t for Barbara stating that she knew him, and for Tim’s easy familial interactions with him, Bruce would swear that Danny really hadn’t existed prior to-

…

Danny hadn’t existed.

He didn’t want to consider the possibility that Barbara lied, but if he did…

Tim enjoyed pranks. Danny was confirmed to have been captured by Ra’s. Danny had escaped. Tim had found Danny. More than likely, they had moved forward from there, and Tim was prone to becoming obsessively protective of family, and Danny was…

Ra’s had reached into a different dimension and grabbed that universe’s version of Tim. Except he hadn’t, because in that universe Tim had been born with an identical twin, and it would have been an easy mistake for someone not expecting that.

Tim and Barbara were trying their hardest to make sure that Danny had a place in this universe. They were trying their hardest to keep him.

Tim was absolutely not researching how to send Danny back; if he had been, he would have started refusing cases for the sake of research.

Bruce hauled himself into his car, started it, and took a moment to rest his forehead on the steering wheel.

He understood it, really. He did. 

Danny fit into their family like a missing puzzle piece; he belonged with them.

But Danny was from a different dimension. He had to go home, no matter how much they wanted him to stay. His version of Bruce was probably tearing the laws of reality apart to get him back.

Bruce would do the same for any of his children, especially if it had been a kidnapping and not an accident.

Bruce sighed and slammed the car into reverse.

He didn’t have enough evidence, he would have to ask for further information.

And how he loathed admitting he did not know something.

In the meantime, he called the one person he would never have thought he’d have to ask for help.

He called John Constantine and told him, as Batman, that the Wayne family had a situation.

~~~~~~

John hated the rich.

Unless they were paying him, of course.

Which Bruce bloody Wayne would, if he wanted his help.

It had taken a bit of wandering, fending off hospital security, and walking past a smoking hole in a wall-fucking Gotham-before he’d managed to convince someone to just guide him to the room in question.

And because John was a snoop, and he knew he was, he stopped outside the door to listen in.

“-I know you’re from a different dimension, Danny, we just want to help you go back.”

“I don’t understand what I did wrong, why do you want to kill me?”

“Bruce what the fuck-”

“Old Man you’ve got it wrong-”

“John Constantine is on the way to pinpoint what Dimension you’re from. Danny, this hurts, I don’t want to do this, but you have to go back home.”

“But if you do that I’ll die!”

“Yeah Bruce he’ll-wait you’ll what? What?! Back the fuck up Old Man!”

“B, calm down. Your conclusion is inaccurate and you need to step back.”

“Danny, stop overreacting; your version of Bruce is probably very worried.”

Well this sounded like a lovely family conversation to walk into.

He opened the door without any fanfare and…yup. Rich people.

There was a revenant standing in front of an eldritch being waving an unused IV pole at Bruce Wayne while the CEO of Wayne Industries was trying to pull the old CEO away from the people in front of him.

Bruce Wayne was not moving.

“Right, so…I’m here to take a look at the…” John trailed off, finally getting a good look at the eldritch thing behind the revenant.

That was no kid.

That was an Ancient.

That was not just an Ancient.

That was the High King of the Infinite Realms, trapped in a mortal body and shackled to life.

This was not a God of Death, this was The God of Death; but tiny and human. Tiny, human, and for some unknown reason had chosen the Wayne family to live his life with.

John wasn’t going to pretend to know what went on in the mind of an Ancient Spirit turned God, but he did know how to take in what was in front of him.

The soul was seamlessly integrated into the body, only barely leaking out. There was a tether, presumably to the Infinite Realms, for the overflow of power that the mortal body could not handle. This looked like any other reincarnation, but with something more powerful than a normal soul.

Which meant that this was deliberate, and usually the reincarnated only held bare bone memories of their past life. If John actually did send the kid back to his home dimension, it was literally going to kill him. The only way for the tiny Royal in front of him to go back was through dying.

For all intents and purposes, this was just a kid. A kid acting as the eyes for a literal God.

And Bruce Wayne was about to royally fuck up said God’s judgment of their world.

“Wayne,” John whispered, eyes not leaving the Royal in front of him, “Wayne, we need to talk.”

“Ah, Mr. Constantine, you’re here. If you could-”

“Wayne,” John snapped, voice hoarse, “Get your bloody arse out of the bloody room right bloody now and listen to me!” by the end of his demand, John was not ashamed to admit that his voice had started hitting some very high notes.

Bruce Wayne’s eyes widened, and the fool finally acquiesced.

“Why is that guy always so gross?” He heard behind him as he closed the door.

He elected to ignore it in favor of setting the pompous rich arse in front of him straight.

“He isn’t lying; you send him back to his home dimension, he dies.”

Wayne looked stricken. Good. Now he had his attention.

“He’s a reincarnated soul from the Infinite Realms, and for whatever reason he decided that your family was the one he wanted to have. Why is he this old and a twin to someone who did not have a twin before? No idea. Not my business. But Wayne,” John walked forward, resting his hand on the man's chest before gripping his suit and yanking him down to eye level, “That kid is acting as the Eyes of a God. If you bugger this up, you bugger us up.”

John let the man go and walked away, throwing his business card over his shoulder.

“The JLD will keep in touch.”

~~~~~~

Tim had miscalculated.

Danny was still too high to be of any use.

Jason’s eyes were a luminescent green, so his cognitive faculties were essentially gone as well. Honestly it wasn’t a huge loss on his part, he doubted Jason would have had valuable input anyways.

His only saving grace was the occultist that had actually done something useful; he’d bought Tim time.

A quick text to Barbara that Bruce had catastrophized into the worst case scenario, again, and Tim got to work.

He stripped out of his suit jacket and pointed at Danny, catching Jason’s eyes.

“We’re switching places; help him undress and escort him out. Pay raise to-”

“You don’t have to pay me fucking money to make sure one of my brothers isn’t killed, Replacement,” Jason snarled, dropping the IV stand and turning to make quick work of Danny’s hoodie.

Danny tried to help, really, he did, but he couldn’t seem to find the coordination for it.

Regardless, in the three minutes it took for Constantine to lay into Bruce, he and Danny had managed to not only swap clothes, but to place an identical bandage on Tim’s hand.

Jason had only just managed to get Danny’s hair in the same style as Tim had when he’d walked in before they heard the door start to open again.

Jason took a half step back and placed himself squarely in front of the twins. 

Tim was not surprised.

Jason's second worst nightmare, after all, was Bruce becoming a version of Willis he could not protect his siblings from.

From the look on Bruce’s face, he knew it, too.

Tim curled his hand around the batarang he’d hidden up his sleeve, fully prepared to do what he could to buy even more time for whoever Barbara had called as reinforcement to arrive.

But Tim didn’t get a chance to do that, because between one second and the next he was outside and being handed off to Kon by an only slightly winded Bart.

“Guys,” he started, feeling the migraine starting to build.

“It’s okay Danny we’ll break you out of Gotham and then Tim can come with you and then you can live with us forever because Speedsters are the best and-”

“Oracle said you’d been dosed with morphine, so I’m gonna have to carry you like Tim for a bit man. Sorry.”

“Guys-” Tim tried, but was manhandled into Kon’s arms.

“Don’t you worry about a thing Dantheman we’re gonna make sure you’re safe and then you can share your house with Kon because no one messes with Kon and you’ll be safe forever and-”

“You have the wrong twin, buffoons,” a young voice cut through, drawing their attention to the youngest Wayne.

Damian looked thoroughly unimpressed.

The look deepened when they heard the fire alarms start going off in the hospital that were more than likely, statistically speaking, courtesy of Jason.

“Come, Timothy; we must clean up the mess your poor planning has made,” the little demon brat ordered imperiously, turning on his heel and marching into the chaotic hospital.

Tim managed to wriggle out of Kon’s hold and patted his chest.

“Thanks, man,” he sighed, mentally preparing himself for the bullshit he was about to walk into.

Kon gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’ve decided that I’m gonna hang out in Gotham for a bit; just call my name if you need me, bro.”

Oh, Tim would.

He paused as he watched a very familiar motorcycle tear down the street.

In fact, Tim was tempted to call for Kon right that very moment.

“Timothy!”

…But he would have to face the consequences of his actions first.

@terzatheunderscorerima @darkbiscuitvoidstudent @akikkobara @reach-for-the-horizon @bitter-coffeecup @moodycow210 @kisatamao @thefantasmarex @fisher-with-the-morbs @jaguarthecat @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @moonshell25 @tundra1029 @hoarder-of-gender @depressed-bitchy-demon @kisatamao @countessdragon

#dcxdp #dpxdc #TWINcognito mode #tim and danny pretend to be twins au #phanfic

[theflyindutchwoman]

I’m watching 5x04 at the moment, and I’ve been paying closer attention to Tim (and Lucy) during the episode…

And the worry on this stupid man’s face the whole freakin time 😭 and he keeps looking at Lucy like he’s checking that she’s okay.

Like so far this whole episode, he’s just got this look on his face and he keeps making subtle glances in Lucy’s direction.

And I am so emo right now 😭

Eric really said “Rosalind episode? Bet. Watch me make Tim the ultimate Lucy protector without any words” 😂

I haven't rewatched that episode since it aired so I'm writing from memory (on a side note, I seriously need to start my s5 rewatch…).

But yes, those looks… *screaming internally* The worry, the pining… Like the one in the shop, where he subtly tries to check on how she's doing without drawing attention to her, knowing that she would probably hate that… Or the one they exchange when Lucy panics after Bailey asks her where Nolan is and Tim is right there to take over for her… 'Just be a friend. And if you need a cop, tag me in'… And, of course, the one when he is being lowered to the basement… That moment is just exquisite. The love, the longing, the fear… So much emotions… And I'm emo too now!

But for all those little moments, I still felt let down on the Chenford front in that episode. I get that this was rushed due to what was going on behind the scenes with the actress playing Rosalind… But I guess I wanted and needed more emotions, if that makes any sense? That storyline in regards to Lucy and Tim has always been so poignant and it didn't entirely deliver.

It probably didn't help that it happened right when they were stuck in that limbo. It's a tough act to balance his desire to be there for her with the awkwardness between them, the guilt… So I understand that Tim couldn't be as explicitly supportive and protective as before. Like when he gave her back her ring. Or when he was being the Fierce Protector at the prison. And in a way, it offered the perfect contrast to 5.01, in the sense that you could imagine how hard this must have been for them not to reach out to the other. For Lucy not to have anyone to ground her. For Tim not to be able to comfort her. And that's why I wished we saw more of that struggle. How adrift they probably felt. Those looks were great, but something was still missing. Like, I don't know, Tim about to grab Lucy's hand before stopping himself because he doesnt know if he can do this now… Same with Lucy… They share this history with Rosalind and I didn't think it was properly acknowledged.

And then, there's that last scene that kind of bothered me. The way Tim barely reacted to Lucy's turmoil and conflicted emotions at seeing Rosalind's dead body… I need to rewatch it to be certain, but I remember feeling a bit put out by it. I still can't believe that no one asked her how she was doing… The fact that this felt unfinished and rushed didn't help. (Though when I see what they did to Nolan and Bailey in that episode and how her trauma was not only brushed off, but turned into a joke one episode later, I'm actually happy with what we got lol).

#little talks (with bestie) #the rookie #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #So sorry for the late reply ♥️! #December and January have been kicking my butt

[msfcatlover]

Shadow Tim (Reverse Robins)

So, a few very important things to keep in mind for Tim's iteration of the Shadow design:

Tim is taking it up as a tribute to Steph after her death.

Tim does not have a Moonbeam as his partner. (He was supposed to be the next Moonbeam, apprenticed under Cass, until shit went down.)

Tim lacks the fully context & perspective on Being Shadow that Steph & Damian had about it (but he's trying his best.)

To start with, Tim brings Shadow back to Damian's greyscale & gold color scheme, but with one critical difference: where Damian had pops of red, Tim uses very light touches of purple.

(Tim also keeps Steph's bat symbol, so here's a quickly thrown together contrast. Tim has no Moonbeam, so he gets no light/metallic accent on his bat symbol.)

The second major tribute is that Tim adds a cloak, specifically taken from Steph's original Spoiler design. Tim's version is black with a purple lining, and gold trim around the edge of the hood, calling back to both Steph's dual-tone hood & her hair. The cloak itself is ankle-length; not practical, but evocative & stylish.

(So this style cape, and massive thanks to the Stephanie Brown Costume History page, y'all are lifesavers.)

Tim relies on the cloak to disguise his form, with the costume itself being much closer-fitted than previous iterations. The top is a black bulletproof vest with short sleeves added not dissimilar to his traditional Robin costume, but the weird stripes are actually places for him to tuck gadgets he expects to grab in a hurry.

(Basically this, but all one piece, with the Robin sleeves, and obviously lighter on detail to keep from being visually cluttered. No one wants to draw or look at all those lines & straps, or that little wheel-velcro-thing.)

Tim wears a dull grey chainmail body suit between his black undersuit & outer costume. It shows mainly on his arms, between the top sleeves & his gloves, but if his pants tore it'd be visible there too. The gloves themselves are his spiky gauntlets from more modern costumes, in black but with a gold hem at the very top to reflect the band on his hood (paying tribute to Steph's thick hems & blonde hair, while also bringing back Damian's color scheme.)

(These bad boys.)

Tim sticks with the neck gaiter Steph switched to, but does not keep the greasepaint. Instead, Tim has a headset styled after ski-goggles. He was originally designing it for becoming Moonbeam, hoping an AI scan of his opponents' moves would help him predict what they were going to do (allowing him to better mimic Duke & Cass's skillsets.) It's still a pretty rough prototype by the time Steph dies, but Tim's put a hell of a lot of work into it, he's not not going to field-test the thing, now is he?

(You meet the new Shadow, and this stares back at you from under the hood [lightly edited for appropriate drama])

Below the utility belt (grey with gold snaps/buckles,) Tim wears black heavy-duty cargo pants tucked into knee-high armored boots. The extra pockets even further emphasize that Tim is a character with a diverse set of skills and especially gadgets, and the slight puff caused by tucking not-entirely-fitted pants in at the knee calls back to Damian's "Infinite Frontier" outfit that inspired my original Shadow design.

(Not quite that puffy, but that would probably be down to the artist.)

For the boots, I do really like the ones Tim's been recently wearing in comics... mostly, at least. The ones on-panel have a little tabi toe-stripe most of the time, which either appears to be decorative (just a notch in front of the toe, which I don't like the look of) or does weird things to the depth (making his feet look flat.) Also, as someone who cannot even wear flip-flops without getting bloody blisters, it just looks uncomfortable to me. I really like the version Tim wore on that cover with Damian—the shape looks more comfortable, it looks like it has better grip & heavier armor, and looks like a shoe it'd really suck to get kicked by—but the stripes are nearly invisible, and the weird spike of armor above the knee is a bit much.

Combine the foot from the cover-boots with the shape & highlights from the panel-boots. Make the stripes & knee-pad border gold, and add a gold trim along the top edge of the green sole; the sole itself should be dark grey.

And that's Shadow Tim!

A little higher-tech to foreshadow his ascendance to Oracle, while also reflecting Tim's canonical love of weird gadgets through the ages.

Pays heavy tribute to Steph, but not in any way that'd be super-obvious if you weren't in-the-know, without directly ripping off her designs or looking so much like her that the other Bats could mistake Tim for Steph out of the corner of their eyes.

Pays light tribute to Damian, but aside from being a Shadow costume, Duke & Cass have about as much influence on the changes Tim makes (see: chainmail, glove style, face covering) as Damian does.

Misses a few important details of Shadow's design (see: no longer visible eyes, no more grease paint, dramatically changed silhouette) showing Tim wasn't prepared to step into this role but is doing his best anyway.

Extra armor & pockets shows that Tim's got even more protection than previous Shadows, hinting through design alone about the impact Steph's death had on the family.

Sticks to Tim's fashion tastes without going overboard.

Adds a cape for him to go swish.

I'm pretty happy with it!

#reverse!robins #reverse robins #reverse robins au #reverse order robins #reverse order batkids #reverse batkids #reverse batfam #reverse batfamily #batfamily #bat family #bat fam #batfam #batkids #bat kids #batbros #bat bros #bat brothers #bat siblings #batsiblings #tim drake #shadow!tim #timothy drake #costume design #my writing #mine

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Shoulder to Shoulder

First posted: April 13, 2019

Focuses on: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Favorite bookmark: None, no one is being clever

Tier: Lower-mid on all metrics except comments and bookmarks, where it's in the bottom 20.

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Another one-year ficiversary piece, rewriting Carried from Dick's POV instead of Tim's.

It was the first time in Dick didn’t know how long that his hand itched to throw something and it wasn’t Bruce’s fault.

I was still playing around with the arc of Dick and Bruce's relationship. I still am, really. Some canon and fanon paths have them viciously at odds during Dick's teen years and/or immediately after Jason's death, while others less so. I do think there has to be some friction, because that's part of the uncomfortable stretching of independence, but I haven't settled on a consistent tone or tenor yet. I tend to have to write a fic specifically about a thing to figure out that thing and I haven't done that yet.

Here their relationship could be described as tetchy.

Dick felt like he was being punished. Screw up one brother, shame on you; screw up two... He had failed Jason, miserably and completely, he knew that, but shouldn’t that knowledge be punishment enough?

POV musings seem to confuse people, for whatever reason. They take the character's words or thoughts as the author's. When writing from Dick's POV, Dick in my fics will state that he failed Jason, that he was a bad big brother, that he was too distant, too unavailable, too disconnected. Dick is not an unbiased observer.

Bruce was dressed in the Armani suit that worked like a pressuring lean on a shoulder.

I panic any time I have to describe a rich-person thing. Yes, sure, I can google, but I would imagine the true rich-person things are not available to the average googler!! Whatever, celebrities wear Armani on the red carpet, it's probably fine.

Not ostentatious, not aggressive, just the understated but deliberate expression of I am richer than you that would do more to steamroll anyone he met today than a tight handshake or a punch to the jaw ever could. Alfred stood at the door of today’s car, a stately, almost old-fashioned limousine Dick had seen Bruce use only once or twice before.

Bruce Wayne is clever, and he is subtle, and he knows how to wield wealth and legacy like a weapon as deftly as any blade. And that's that on that.

“You should have called,” Dick muttered once he reached Bruce. Bruce’s chin rose infinitesimally. “You told me—” Dick held up a hand. They wouldn’t get on this ride today, this whirling teacup of you told me not to call and why are you always so pigheadedly literal.

They're both so stupid and I love them so much. (Bruce is Team Say What You Mean and Dick is Team I Know You're Just Making A Point You Jerk.)

“Can I ride with you?” Better to go as a united front, even if they risked picking another quarrel on the ride over. Bruce, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

To his credit—Dick you proud teenage hothead, that's your dad of course he's going to let you ride with him, short of a BOMB strapped to your chest with five seconds left he'll say yes and even then I'm not sure he would do any differently.

They didn’t talk on the ride over. Dick fidgeted with his cuffs until he caught Bruce looking, then stopped. When they arrived at the cemetery, Bruce held out a hand, blocking Dick’s exit. Dick braced for whatever thought Bruce had been chewing on, but instead, two large, calloused hands reached out and gently straightened his tie.

nananananananananananananana DADMAAAAAAAAN

Dick met Bruce’s eye. On the other side of the car door awaited a funeral with a minister, mourners, and an open grave. They both knew what to expect, both would likely pay for it in their own ways later. A united front. For Tim. Dick nodded, once, and Bruce returned the gesture before letting Alfred open the door.

These are two people who love each other very much and love a third person equally as much and I love it so much.

Tim sat at the front, shoulder to shoulder with his father.

The one thing I can't do in these notes that I could in a printed book is pointedly underline and/or circle things with no other comment.

He could remember being where Tim was now, at the edge of a grave looking down into incomprehensible loss and an uncertain future. He remembered leaning into Bruce, then a virtual stranger, and being grateful that he wasn’t alone, that there was someone whose side he could cry into, whose arm could circle around his shoulders, firm and warm.

They're fighting and Dick still knows Bruce will always be there for him. 🥺 Write me a fam like that or I don't want it.

And then Bruce was there, shrugging on his Brucie persona like an old coat just before stepping into Jack’s path.

Dick had forgotten what a relief it could be to have Bruce take charge. He’d forgotten what a marvel it could be to watch his grunting, reclusive guardian oil the gears of Gotham society to get exactly what he wanted.

A magic trick doesn't become less impressive when you know how it's done. If anything, you get the magic of the illusion and the awe of the sleight of hand skill.

He wanted to throw something. He wanted to break something. “You have to do something.”

parallellllllllllllls. It's not the prettiest but I still enjoy them.

“That’s today,” Dick argued. “And tomorrow, if Jack doesn’t care, which he won’t. What a măgar.” His mother would’ve washed his mouth out for that one, but it felt good, to throw venom at Jack Drake with his words at least.

I've backed off Romani Dick because it's a line of fanon that I don't feel any particular way about (and "ah the traveling circus people are wandering Romani, of course" feels not great from me, someone with zero Romani heritage), but I was still parsing through the heaps of fanfic I'd devoured and trying to figure out what I ascribed to as a writer, so there it is. (I was also still desperately trying not to swear in English in my fics.)

“He can’t go back there. He’s just a kid, and he shouldn’t be alone in an empty house. Who’s going to look after him, the cleaning lady?” Bruce’s reply was little more than a mumble, “Turned out okay for me.” “Because you’re the picture of mental health,” Dick snapped. 

Richard. Apologize to Bruce AND Alfred.

He stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” “You did,” Bruce countered, his voice placid.

Let me tell you, that response, without malice or heat? A power move.

Dick knelt in front of Bruce’s chair so he could look up into Bruce’s eyes. This was something he knew well, a sensation as ingrained into him as somersaults and backflips. He would always look up to Bruce, one way or another.

THAT'S HIS DAAAAAAAAAAD

“He needs Jack Drake.” Bruce sighed, and Dick, still on his knees, noticed the lines around his eyes, the silvery hair twinkling at his temples. When had they changed? When had they both grown up and apart?

Noticing your own parents age hurts. It's lowkey terrifying. And then add being fresh off a funeral for someone else's parent...

Bruce held out a hand, and Dick let him help him to his feet. “I’ll be better,” Bruce promised quietly, Dick’s hand still in his. “He’s welcome here. He’s been... welcome. I’ll be better about making that clear, from now on.”

Double meaning maybe?? Who's to say????

Dick tightened his hand around Bruce’s, a hug between two people who had fallen out of practice. Wuss. The sneer had an Alley cant to it.

As Dick says in the very next time, they have to be better. Together. Because brothers die and parents die, too.

Dick leaned in and wrapped his arms around his... his Bruce. 

Sometimes I use this kind of language as a character-specific hesitation. Here, I think it was meant to be because I'd only written Mother Bruce the year before and I liked the emotional uncertainty of Bruce as legal guardian but not necessarily parent. However, another, more heartwarming way to read this is that for Dick specifically, Bruce isn't a step less than a parent, he's more. He is legal guardian and big brother figure and mentor and friend and dad. He is not one of those things, he is all of those things, and so he is Dick's Bruce.

#fanfic bts brain dump #batfam #fanfic

[bidoofenergy]

This is me humbly requesting some Jimmy and Joel/Grian interactions from your dance floor au🙏

Additionally I would kill for a d&d au that genuinely sounds so fun as someone who played dnd years ago (unf the group was not fun to play with, I feel bad for our dm)

hungry busy people

also on AO3 sequel to let's ditch the dance floor (4048 words)

“Friday night,” Joel sarcastically cheers, under his breath. “Living the dream," Jimmy refuses to pay attention to him. He’s got his planner, his Google Calendar, and all his course websites open in front of him, but he still feels like he’s forgetting something. He goes down this weekend's to do list for the third time, comparing it to upcoming deadlines.

“Class signup starts next week right?” he asks, whipping up to look at Joel, across the table. Joel pauses his lamenting on missing on date night with Lizzie.

“Registration isn’t for another two weeks.” Joel says slowly. Jimmy flips to two weeks out and, sure enough, there it is on Thursday in capital letters: “CLASS SIGNUP 8 AM!!” Jimmy groans.

“Are you forgetting something?” Joel asks, barely hiding his amusement.

“Tell me you know what I’m forgetting.” Jimmy leans over his open notebooks and half the table to beg properly.

Joel leans away from Jimmy’s hands and smirks. “How should I know what you’ve forgotten?” He reaches for his phone as he speaks and starts typing without breaking eye contact.

“If you’re texting Grian to make fun of me—” Jimmy starts, in his best attempt at threatening. It isn’t very good, given how Joel’s smirk just grows.

“Do your homework Jim.” Joel pats the top of his hand. “It’ll come to you; probably when you least expect it.” Joel sounds too happy about this for Jimmy’s taste. He sighs and sits back. Joel has decided to be unhelpful and there’s no changing his mind. Jimmy hates him a little.

“I hate you a lot.” He tells Joel. Joel is not bothered by this.

Truthfully, Jimmy can only hate Joel a little today. Joel agreed to go to the vet school library with him on a Friday night, even though it’s a good 15 minute bus ride from their dorm, because Jimmy focuses better here than at the library on main campus. Jimmy needs to be at the library on a Friday night because, at some point this semester, his workload went from substantial to overwhelming. And on top of that, there’s… something else. Something is happening this weekend and that means Jimmy has to get as much work done today as possible.

To start: this godforsaken discussion post that’s due at midnight. He switches windows back to the week’s reading and continues skimming it, hoping for something to jump out at him. He just needs to find something vaguely interesting to write 150 words about and then he can tell two random classmates they “brought up some very intriguing points, I hadn't considered that” and be done with the class—at least until next Friday’s discussion post.

It’s on his fourth reread of the same sentence (so much for skimming) that Jimmy feels a presence behind him. He freezes and considers. Joel is still in front of him, intently focused on his laptop screen. There’s only one other person Jimmy knows who would stand behind him and silently wait like this, but he’s an hour drive—this is the thing Jimmy forgot!

Jimmy whirls around, his suspicions immediately confirmed when he nearly smacks Grian in the stomach in his excitement. “Grian!” he exclaims and immediately winces at his volume.

“Hey Tim,” Grian grins. “Took you long enough to notice.” He ruffles Jimmy’s hair before sitting down.

“He’s been here for seven minutes.” Joel says as he reaches across the table to bump fists in greeting. “I timed it.”

“You’re getting sloppy Tim.” Grian shakes his head.

“Shut up.” Jimmy whines. “Where’s your stuff man?” He cannot believe he forgot Grian was staying the weekend; it’s not like their plans were what got him through the last few weeks.

“In my car, which is by your dorm, because that’s where you told me you’d be.” Grian pokes Jimmy in the chest. “Joel had to coach me through your bus system by text!”

Joel smirks at Grian’s annoyance. “Sorry, not all of us have the cutting-edge infrastructure of HCU.”

“A functional, easy-to-understand bus system is not cutting-edge—”Grian starts, voice rising, before Joel and Jimmy shush him.

“Yes, yes, HCU rules, ESU drools.” Joel says mockingly, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t give us Scar’s public transportation rant, I have homework I need to finish.” Jimmy pleads. Grian splutters like he can’t decide what to be offended by first.

“It’s not a rant—It’s not Scar’s—” he squawks. Jimmy and Joel glance at each other and laugh.

“Hush, both of you,” Grian folds his arms. “You’re doing homework? I drove all the way here, rode your horrible bus, to watch you do homework?”

Jimmy can't help but laugh. He’s missed Grian so much.

“Don’t laugh!” Grian exclaims and Joel shushes him again, still laughing as he does.

“The grind doesn’t stop.” Jimmy shrugs. “Gotta finish this today so I’m free tomorrow.” At the mention of tomorrow, Grian brightens.

“Yes! I’m looking forward to your gym.” he enthuses and Joel groans. “You guys actually have more climbing space than HCU does.” Grian continues and Joel groans louder.

“You’re obsessed.” Joel complains.

“Alright, Mr. Thought of Baby Names Three Months in.” Grian scoffs.

“I did not—not three months—” Joel fumbles to defend himself, flushing. “I would never—I was totally cool and normal about Lizzie.” His flush deepens at the mention of his girlfriend, which doesn’t really help his case.

“So, we’re just lying now?” Jimmy asks Grian in a stage whisper and they grin at each other.

“Shut up,” Joel groans, head in his hands. “Do your homework Tim.”

Jimmy frowns, but before he can say anything, Grian pokes his arm. “Yeah Timmy,” he says teasingly, switching sides easily. “Finish your homework so we can get out of here.”

“Boo,” Jimmy mumbles and he and Joel start working again.

Grian leaves them alone for about ten minutes, entertaining himself with his phone, before getting bored and scooting his chair closer to Jimmy. He rests his chin on Jimmy’s shoulder and starts reading along. Jimmy, used to this, lets his shoulder drop a little so Grian is more comfortable.

“Jim,” Grian says after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you don’t pick a random quote and start writing—” Grian starts and Jimmy just laughs. Joel looks up at the two of them, an eyebrow raised. “He’s overthinking this.” Grian huffs, sounding personally offended.

“I’d never accuse Jimmy of thinking too much.” Joel smirks.

“Hey!” Jimmy exclaims. “I wasn’t sure where to start and—” Grian cuts him off.

“That doesn’t sound like ‘Thank you for the advice, Grian, I’ll get right to it!’”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Thank you for the advice, Grian, I’ll get right to it.” he parrots. Grian pats him on the head and sits back, looking smug.

The worst part is: Grian is right. Jimmy finds the sentence he had to read four times and starts writing, “A quote that I found particularly interesting…”

Grian watches him type for a few minutes before getting bored again and rolling over to watch Joel. “That doesn’t look like homework.” He remarks dryly. Jimmy looks up to see the familiar expression of Joel caught texting Lizzie something gross and cheesy and quickly looks back to his own laptop screen, happy to let Grian take care of that.

- - -

They’re at the library for a few more hours, until it’s almost 12:30. Jimmy finished his discussion post and the two replies and starts on his math homework (Grian immediately teases him for “taking a finance class, that’s not even real math!”). Joel, eventually, probably because she fell asleep, stops texting Lizzie and starts reading. It’s a lot of highlighting, mumbling to himself, and looking like the book in front of him insulted his mother. Grian steals Jimmy’s phone, gets the passcode right on the first try because Jimmy hasn’t bothered to change it since Grian first learned it in high school, and starts playing Angry Birds. Jimmy doesn’t even remember having Angry Birds on his phone.

Eventually, Jimmy’s mind feels like a thick soup and Grian has given up on Angry Birds in favor of spinning his chair worryingly fast. Joel, seeing the state of the two of them, snaps his book closed and says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Finally!” Grian exclaims, jumping up to his feet. He sways and stumbles and Jimmy laughs as he packs up his stuff.

Grian is buzzing with energy as they leave the library and head to the bus stop. The night air is warm and heavy with humidity. The sidewalk is lit a hazy orange-yellow from the streetlights. There’s no one else at the bus stop. Jimmy stands by the sign and bounces on his toes. Grian squints at the bus stop bench, like he's grading it. For a moment, it’s quiet—only the sounds of distant traffic and bugs.

“I’m hungry.” Joel announces to the night air, startling Jimmy a little.

“Nothing’s open right now.” Jimmy frowns.

“Do you not have food in your room?” Grian asks. Neither Jimmy nor Joel dignify his question with a response.

“There’s gotta be something open.” Joel pulls out his phone and opens his map app, pinching and panning and zooming in on nearby streets. Both Jimmy and Grian crowd around, bumping their heads together.

“I really cannot believe ESU doesn’t have stuff nearby open past midnight.” Grian mumbles. Jimmy can’t believe HCU would.

“There’s a Waffle House not far from our dorm, which is good because this is the last bus.” Joel announces, zooming in on the Waffle House in question. He looks a little too excited about this. Jimmy glances at Grian, who looks more caught up on the idea that the buses are stopping now.

“I could eat,” Jimmy offers and, just like that, their plans have been made.

“Waffle House!” Joel cheers and switches over to stare at the bus tracker app.

- - -

The Waffle House isn’t very busy, unsurprising for it being nearly 1 am, only another group of five college students crammed in a booth and only two people working. The blond, middle-aged cook yells at them to “sit wherever!” when they enter and Grian picks a booth for them. Joel slides in next to Grian and drops his backpack on the opposite bench right as Jimmy’s about to sit. Jimmy rolls his eyes, pushes the bag further in, and accidentally kicks Joel as he’s getting settled. Joel, of course, immediately kicks him back, and things devolve from there.

“Boys!” Grian admonishes as the waiter comes up to the table, menus in hand. “Can’t take them anywhere.” he jokes, like he didn’t just kick Jimmy in the shins. The waiter, a tall, lanky guy about their age with a yellow sweater on underneath his Waffle House shirt, looks unimpressed and drops the menus on the table. Joel, noticing the waiter, straightens up.

The waiter says, “Yell for me when you're ready.” and leaves.

“Christ that dude is tall.” Joel remarks as soon as he’s gone.

“You’re just short.” Grian rolls his eyes and pulls the menu Jimmy was reaching for towards himself.

“Taller than you!” Joel says indignantly.

“Don't start,” Jimmy begs, head in his hands. Joel takes this as an opportunity to the remaining menu. Jimmy doesn’t react. They all know what they want anyway.

He twists around to wave the server over. He’s talking to the cook, who looks a little more stressed than Jimmy would like the person making his food to look, especially if they work at Waffle House. When the tall man notices, he pushes off the counter and heds over.

“What can I get you guys?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. Jimmy catches his nametag: Wilbur.

“Double hashbrown, scattered and covered please.” Jimmy says, ignoring Grain’s responding gag. The server nods and turns to Joel, who’s puffing out his chest. Jimmy has to stare really hard at poor Wilbur’s beanie (red, a little dirty, definitely not in-uniform) to avoid Grian’s eye.

“All star breakfast, with bacon.” Joel replies and at least he’s not dropping his voice like he used to do in front of Lizzie all the time.

“Double waffles,” Grian says. “And we’ll all have orange juice.” Jimmy hates orange juice.

“It’s gonna be a while on those waffles.” Wilbur informs them. “We’ve only got one iron working at the moment and they”—he gestures behind him lazily to the other table— “all ordered waffles. That explains the cook’s expression. All three of them wince sympathetically.

“That’s fine.” Grian reassures him. Wilbur nods and leaves before Jimmy can remember he doesn’t like orange juice.

- - -

Their food comes fairly quickly, except for Grian and Joel’s waffles of course. “Yeah it’s gonna be about an hour.” the server tells them, faintly apologetic.

“Holy moly,” Jimmy breathes and Joel and Grian grimace in unison.

“We’ll wait,” Grian tells him.

“Waffle House welcomes you 24 hours a day.” Wilbur replies flatly before leaving, clearly quoting something from his training. Joel snorts into his food.

Jimmy slides his orange juice across the table to Grian. “Timmy, you've got to get your Vitamin C.” Grian says, taking a massive gulp of Jimmy’s orange juice. “What if you get scurvy or something?”

“I’m not getting scurvy.” Jimmy says and starts eating.

“You’re eating potatoes and cheese; that’s not exactly a balanced diet.”

“He does have a point.” Joel agrees, mouth full.

“You’re not any better!” Jimmy doesn’t exactly yell, and Joel and Grian both shush him.

- - -

Thirty minutes later, hashbrowns long gone, Jimmy has his head on the table, pillowed under his arms, half-asleep. Grian and Joel have been talking about this ghost-hunting video game for at least twenty minutes. While Jimmy plays it all the time with them, he barely knows the rules, nevermind the intricate strategies they’re discussing. Instead he lets their voices wash over him and, between them and the rain. He’s almost—

Jimmy sits bolt upright and blurts, “It’s raining?”

Grian and Joel pause to exaggeratedly glance between him, the window, and each other.

“Indeed it is, Timmy,” Grian claps mockingly. “Well done.” Jimmy groans.

“No, walking back is gonna be a pain.”

“Neither of you have an umbrella?” Grian asks, somehow surprised.

“I’m sure it’ll clear up soon.” Joel tells Jimmy. They both leave Grian's question unanswered.

- - -

Twenty minutes later, the rain hasn’t cleared up and, in fact, has gotten much worse. The water’s coming down in sheets angled by the wind. Jimmy was woken up by a loud crack of thunder and nearly jumped out of his seat, much to Joel and Grian’s amusement.

A little while later, Wilbur comes by with their waffles. “Sorry for the wait,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’ll bring your bill in a moment, you guys paying separately or together?”

“Seperate,” Jimmy mumbles distractedly staring out the window at the storm. He can’t even see the streetlight by the bus stop.

The server pauses and adds, a little more sincerely this time, “You really are welcome to stay as long as you gotta.”

“Thanks,” Joel grins around a mouthful of waffle.

“Gross,” Grian groans around his own mouthful of waffle. Wilbur leaves, somehow looking both disgusted and disinterested.

Jimmy’s startled out of his storm-induced daze when every phone in the building goes off in quick succession. He scrambles to silence his, not even reading the warning displayed on the screen.

“Flood warning,” Joel reads. “No shit.” Flooding does indeed seem like a given as water streams down the sidewalk and starts to puddle over the one visible storm drain.

Jimmy drums his fingers on the table. His backpack is water resistant, but that doesnt mean much in a storm like this. None of them even have an umbrella or even jackets; it had been so warm that evening.

“I think we should wait.” He says.

“I’m not getting my laptop wet.” Joel agrees.

“Fine,” Grian sighs. It’s almost 2 am.

- - -

By 2:15, they’ve paid and their dishes sit in a neat stack next to a not insignificant cash tip that the three of them pooled together.

“For you and the poor man with only one waffle iron.” Grian tells Wilbur when he comes to collect their plates and raises an eyebrow at the bills. He actually laughs as he tucks it apron pocket.

When he leaves their table, they hear him yell, “Hey old man, tip for you!” and fall over each other trying not to laugh too loudly.

- - -

By 2:30, the rain has slowed enough that Jimmy can actually see through it. A couple, two college-aged women, had emerged suddenly into the yellow-white light of the Waffle House sign. Now, they stand by the counter, dripping.

“You can, like, walk but it sucked.” Jimmy hears one of them tell the cook, a little too casually for someone who was just out in the middle of a flood warning. The other apologizes profusely to Wilbur who’s brought over a mop.

Grian’s entertaining himself on Jimmy’s phone, so Jimmy looks over to Joel, who said he restarted his reading but is actually on his phone. Joel, as if sensing Jimmy’s gaze, looks up. “I don't wanna be stuck here all night with no sleep—we’re supposed to meet Lizzie for breakfast before work” he says a little sadly. Grian looks up from Angry Birds to glance between them.

Jimmy weighs his options. On the one hand, his laptop is out of warranty and he can’t afford to get it or his notes wet. On the other hand, Lizzie’s busy all weekend and the only chance she has to see Grian is at some cafe 20 minutes away tomorrow morning. At 8 am.

“It’s still pouring.” Grian complains. “Give it a bit.” They give it a bit.

- - -

By 2:45, the rain has barely slowed while Jimmy definitely has. He and Grian started stacking creamer pods and every so often Jimmy knocks them over and just stares, blinking, while Grian cackles.

He sets down the creamer he was about to stack and whines, “We can’t stay here any longer.”

Joel snaps his book closed and jumps up. “Right, let’s get going then so we can sleep and then wake up on time because I refuse to be late to meeting Lizzie.” He leans across the table, reaching for his bag, as he says this.

“Wait, wait, hang on a minute,” Grian says, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Can we be smart about this please?”

Joel, practically laying on the table to reach his bag tucked against the window with one hand while balancing off Jimmy’s shoulder with the other, says, “I’m always smart.”

“Uh-huh,” Grian says, unconvinced, and slides out past Joel's legs to talk to the cook, who’s leaning against the counter looking half-asleep. Jimmy manages to escape from Joel to stand and laughs as Joel flounders, trying not to fall off the table.

Joel’s upright by the time Grian returns with a small trashbag. Jimmy squints at the trashbag, trying to understand. “Wha’s that for?” he asks after Grian fails to explain, clearly more amused by Jimmy’s sleepy confusion.

“Well if you put something in here, you can keep it dry.” Grian starts, condescending. Jimmy blinks, still catching up. “Gosh, Tim, you really need to sleep.” Grian laughs, breaking character. “Put your laptops in here and then in Tim’s bag.” He instructs Joel. Jimmy just moves away and lets Joel handle things, swaying where he stands.

“Jesus Tim, you big baby,” Grian complains, propping him up a little with his shoulder.

Joel straightens up from where he was rearranging their stuff and hands Jimmy his bag. “Let’s get this show on the road!” He says, clapping his hands together once they’re free.

“Thank you, have a good night!” Grian calls to the Waffle House employees as he none-too-gently herds Jimmy out the door.

“Stay dry!” Wilbur calls after them from where he’s leaned next to the grill, blowing vape smoke up the exhaust.

“Complete dumbasses,” Jimmy hears the cook laugh as the door closes behind them.

He’s immediately soaked, barely three steps out the door and much more awake. The wind has died down considerably, which Jimmy is grateful for. “Lucky it’s not as windy,” he remarks, though he’s practically yelling to be heard over the rainfall and water rushing down the street gutters.

“Lucky?” Joel repeats, indignant.

“Oh yeah, let’s talk about how lucky this weather is!” Grian yells. He’s leading them across the parking lot like he knows where he’s going. Water sluices across their shoes as they push uphill, flooding Jimmy’s sneakers.

“It absolutely could be worse!” Jimmy argues. As if on cue: a distant rumble of thunder.

“Shut it.” Joel says, pointing at Jimmy threateningly. “If we get struck by lighting and miss breakfast, Lizzie’ll kill me.” This is, of course, not the threat he wants it to be and Grian and Jimmy fall over each other with laughter. When they finally straighten up, Joel is ahead of them and they rush—Jimmy slipping and nearly falling—to catch up.

“Do you guys remember that episode of Mythbusters?” Jimmy asks, once he’s caught his footing—and his breath—a bit.

“Which episode?” Joel asks, not kindly. “They made a lot.”

“About running versus walking in the rain?” Grian asks.

“Yeah!” Jimmy exclaims. “You remember the conclusion? I don’t.”

“No,” Grian admits and Joel groans.

“Why’d you bring it up if you don't remember the conclusion?” he asks the sky, throwing his head back.

“I thought Grian might!” Jimmy protests but he’s drowned out by Joel making choking noises. They all stop immediately.

“I just swallowed so much rainwater.” Joel croaks, looking a little red but fine, and Jimmy has to laugh.

“Why would you look up when it’s raining?” Grian admonishes, but he’s rubbing the part of Joel’s back that isn’t covered by his bag.

“I wasn’t thinking.” Joel straightens up and Jimmy doubles over, laughing harder. “C’mon let’s keep moving.” He tugs Jimmy’s arm.

“He’s delirious.” Grian says, pushing Jimmy from behind.

Together, they push-pull Jimmy to the intersection before the campus entrance and, with barely a glance, decide to cross without waiting for the crosswalk light. There’s no traffic anyway and, unsurprisingly, no one else out as they make their way to Jimmy and Joel’s dorm.

They make one last turn and, as if on cue, the rain slows to a steady drizzle. Jimmy, too tired to be mad, tilts his head back to feel the rain across his face.

“This is fucking bullshit.” Joel gripes.

“You’re the one who wanted to leave right then.” Grian points out, his own tiredness removing the usual sharpness of his teasing edge.

“Oh I’m Grian and I can perfectly predict the weather.” Joel says mockingly, never too tired to be insulted.

Grian, of course, has to respond. “Oh, I’m Joel and I’m so worried my girlfriend’s gonna be mad at me I make my friends walk half a mile in the middle of a flood warning.”

Before Joel can reply, Jimmy steps between them and slings an arm over each of their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here this weekend.” He says. He’s sleepy and a little too earnest and probably putting a little too much weight on his friends but he’s ridiculously happy to have his two best friends with him.

“Gross Tim,” Grian and Joel complain in unison, but neither of them move away.

By the time they’re squelching up the stairs and entering the dorm the rain has stopped completely. Joel and Jimmy’s room is illuminated by moonlight streaming in through the permanently broken blinds. Joel immediately starts spreading his notes out on the air conditioning unit to dry. Jimmy finds a pair of shorts and a t-shirt (that was probably Grian's to begin with) to give Grian to sleep in. He grabs his towel and slimy shower caddy and heads to the hall’s bathrooms.

When he gets back, there’s wet stuff everywhere and the room is starting to smell like wet dog and sweaty boys and old pennies. Whatever, that’s a problem for Monday Jimmy.

Jimmy pulls on the shorts and t-shirt he uses as pajamas and clambers onto his slightly too-tall bed. Grian’s already made himself comfortable and he squints, half-asleep, at Jimmy. “That’s my t-shirt,” he grumbles.

“Shush,” Jimmy replies, nudging Grian to the side so he can fully fit on his own bed. Grian, begrudgingly, accommodates him. Jimmy falls asleep tucked against Grian’s familiar frame, tired and happy and finally dry.

#life series #traffic smp #bad boys #limited life #jimmy solidarity #grian #smallishbeans #limited life smp #my fic #chaddex #lddf-verse

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Home

part 6 of WDKY ao3

When Jason woke up it only took him a moment this time to remember. He’d been rescued captured by Batman. Had they locked him up? Was he already in Arkham? He stifled a gasp. He had to stay still.

He tried to calm down, listen, and pay attention to the details. Just like he’d been taught by both Batman and the League of Assassins. 

He didn’t hear any beeping. They must have disconnected him from the heart monitor. He shifted a bit. He wasn’t restrained. He had to restrain a sigh of relief. He didn’t know what he would have done if he’d woken up restrained again. Okay. Continued assessing. He felt better. There was a slight tingling, so he was probably on pain meds. He could hear the distant sound of bats. 

There was a slight shuffling to his right.

“Good to see you awake, Master Jason.”

Alfred.

If Alfred was here then he’d be okay. Alfred wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

He relaxed and opened his eyes. 

“Alfred?” he said.

“My dear boy.” he said, laying his hand over Jason’s. “I am so grateful to be able to see you again.” The old butler, his grandfather, had tears in his eyes.

“Alfred.” Jason said and his eyes were tearing up too. He closed them. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to come back. He had a plan! Bruce had replaced him! He let his murderer run free! He had to make them pay! But the Green wasn’t coming. His anger wasn’t rising up. He just felt…

Alfred was here. And never in a million years would Jason hurt Alfred.

“Shsss… Just rest. You’re safe now.”

“But… won’t Bru… won’t he… won’t I be taken to Arkham. I’ve killed people.”

“Certainly not.”

“But…”

“But nothing, Master Jason. You are a part of this family.”

Jason couldn’t help sneering. “Part of this family? He replaced me with the newest addition. My death didn’t even matter.”

“Master Jason.” Alfred said more seriously than Jaosn had ever heard him. “You were not replaced. That is not how family works. We may have added Master Tim to the household but that only means that the family has grown. You will always have a place here. And we have all missed you greatly.”

“Then why didn’t he avenge me?” 

Alfred’s face softened. He reached out and held Jason’s hand between two of his own. “You know that is a line that Master Bruce cannot cross.”

“Not even for me?” Jason said and winced as his voice cracked.

Alfred sighed. “While I do not always agree with Master Bruce’s rules, I do understand where he comes from. If he were to kill the Joker, he believes that he would be unable to stop himself from killing other criminals who may not deserve it. The people look to him for protection and hope, but if he were to kill, then he believes that he would just become someone else they feared.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No, it is not.”

“I want to go home, Alfred.” Jason said, a tear escaping his eye.

“My dear, you are home. Everything else can be figured out later. You’re home now, and that is all that matters.”

—-

Five years later.

Jason let himself in the front door and made his way to the main family room. Shouts and laughter echoed through the whole mansion.

He let himself smile.

The family had grown so much in these few years. First Damian and then Steph and Cass, and Duke, who’d only been with them for a few months.

He stepped into the room and dodged a pillow.

“Hey!”

“Oh, sorry, Jason.” Dick said as he ducked behind the couch to avoid the pillow that Tim had thrown at him.

Jason ignored the chaos happening as he stepped further into the room. He made his way to the other couch where Cass was sitting, watching the others play fight. 

“Hey, Cass.” 

She smiled at him.

“What are we playing today?”

“Monopoly.”

Jason winced. “Are we still even allowed to play that? I thought Alfred banned us after last time.”

She pointed to the side table and Jason glanced over to see a box labeled Monopoly Junior.

He raised an eyebrow. Oh well. If Alfred got upset he’d just blame one of his many siblings. There were plenty of them to choose from.

For now, he could just enjoy sitting next to his sister and watch his siblings try to destroy each other in a pillow fight.

At least he’d get some of Alfred’s cookies out of it.

#jason todd #alfred pennyworth #alfred is a good grandfather #he's the best #alfred's cookies #bruce wayne is a good dad #or at least he's trying to be #batman #dcu #fanfic #happy ending

[dailycass-cain]

I really tried to like this run, I really did. The seeds were planted in the Failsafe arc, then there was a tiny bit with the next arc (Red Death), and the way this one began.

Yeah…

This is just my preference, but I enjoy a comic book story if the writer clearly has a passion for all the characters involved.

When it comes to Batman?

I just ask if you're gonna use Cass. Use her wisely.

Don't use her as a "prop".

It's why I left Tom King's Batman run after Batman #81 because that's what Cass was in that run.

I came back to Batman because I truly did enjoy James Tynion IV's style in his Tec run. Yes, he played it safe but it was a FUN kind of safe.

Even if they were cheesy, Tynion's Batman and later Joshua Williamson's runs were fun. So was Mariko Tamaki's Tec run. They treated the characters involved with respect and gave some standout Cass moments. They didn't seem like a "prop" and somehow always figured into the story.

Why I SOOOOO checked out hard when Future State: Gotham did this too (so much so I totally have forgotten who wrote the story). Cass wasn't a character in that (among others). She was just a prop to showcase how "far" Nightwing had gone.

Now, this current Batman run by Chip Zdarsky has done this too. I really did give this run a fair chance. For his "Failsafe" arc the ideas were there but---

There was never any follow-up. No payoff to the ideas introduced in the arc. Cass jobbed but it made sense. Because at the very least "Failsafe" was made to be counter to Bruce and the Family. But…

We got zero payoffs to Cass/Duke doing anything in the arc or anything out of Gotham being lorded over by a machine.

Compare this to what's going on in Detective Comics by Ram V.

Yes, Cass is a minor presence but the writer pays at least some payoff from plots that he introduces the character too. There's consistency.

I see 0 consistency from Zdarsky from point A to B. Take today's #137 issue for example. We spent a setup with Cass getting zero motives as to why she (and Duke) are siding with the rest.

They just are.

0 characterization and 0 payoff from point A to B. What do we get for Cass in the issue? She jobs hard to Bruce. I just don't see any reason why as a fan of Cass I should care about this run?

I mean yeah, Zdarsky dangles the "happy" family in front of us in #136, and also tells us that bad things are coming for Bruce and the Family.

Buuuuuut… where's the characterization? The panel that tells us what Cass sees?

You could've easily had Cass in #136 just a mere two panels glance at Bruce and him back at her. Him knowing she knows something is wrong.

Nope. We don't get that. Just cute fun (we get that via Dick instead).

It would bridge to her being against him in #137. If that was the case I probably wouldn't be angry over the issue. Cass doesn't feel like a character in the story, just a prop. And when a writer goes that route I CHECK OUT.

The other problem I've been having with this Zdarsky run is the "word play" as well. Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian all get name-dropped as "sons" to Bruce. Note who isn't mentioned.

AND YET...

But that is me just being picky and fandomy. But the other stuff I can't overlook. I will miss this run. I really REALLY love Jorge Jiménez's Cass. Like he understands the assignment ANY time he's asked.

Just that, good art has to accompany a fun or thrilling story. We're getting none of that from my point of view. Maybe this changes in a few issues. Maybe it'll be longer.

I just can't read this comic any longer. It's not a read I enjoy. So until then bye Batman. It was fun.

Anyway. I said my peace. I just want to vent this out of my system. 🙏

#cassandra cain #dc comics

[smokinrat]

Hi could I request a Curtis lil sister one where something happens to her or something and she’s like the whole gangs lie sis too and they’re all real worried or something?

Of course! Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy! I didn’t know how young you wanted her, but since Pony’s 14 and the youngest I went with 11, hope that works!

Big Brothers, Big Tasks

It was 5:37pm and 72 degrees outside, there was an occasional breeze as the sun went down, and the summer months had just started. Darry and Soda were making dinner as the gang watched (more like fought over) the TV when there was knocking at the door. “Steve, go get that.” Soda ordered, Steve rolled his eyes as he stood up from the floor, “Whadda ya want?” He asked while opening the door, half watching the TV - barley paying attention to who was there. “Move your ass, man.”, Steve finally realized who had been standing in front of him once he was pushed to the side. Dally had walked in with (Y/n) Curtis, she was the youngest Curtis - and the only girl out of the four siblings; both of these things combined made the boys pretty protective over her. So when she walked in with Dally with skinned knees, red eyes & tear stained cheeks, a bruise that was forming on her jaw, and palms that had been poorly bandaged they nearly lost their minds right there.

“What happened?!” Soda frantically asked - rushing over from where he’d previously been standing at the stove. “The Timber Street Tigers happened,” Dally grumbled, “Pushed her down and decked her in the jaw just cause she was on “their territory”. Absolute bullshit.” He threw the girl’s roller-skates down near the coffee table before taking out his newest pack of cigarettes and lighting one. “Why were you there?” Darry asked as he pulled (Y/n) into his lap, “He saved me, he pulled the guy off me, and threw him on the ground and kicked him in the ribs.” (Y/n) recapped. “Yeah, and you’re lucky I was there, man. Otherwise your kid-sister would probably still be out there right now, and none of you would be the wiser.” Dally snapped. “Calm down, Dal, he didn’t mean no harm.” Pony said, Dally sent him a combination of a side eye & a death glare, but dropped it. “She’s still bleeding, Superman, you gonna take care of that, or are we gonna get a new red carpet?” Two-bit quipped, “Is it really that much?” (Y/n) asked with worry, but calmed down once she saw that Two-bit was just exaggerating.

“Those guys are assholes anyways, we just won’t go near there anymore.” Johnny suggested, “They shouldn’t get to scare people out of a place they don’t even own, it’s ridiculous!” Pony exclaimed. “We’re still gonna go there, idiots, we’ll go there whenever we want.” Dally started, but not before Darry cut him off, “Not if it gets you all hurt, speaking of which, Two, go get the first aid.” He instructed, putting (Y/n) down on the couch, and walking into the kitchen to check on the food. “How would you go there without getting beat up, anyways?” Soda asked, “I’ll get Tim and his guys to knock some sense into them. He’s been looking for a reason to fight the Timber Street Shitheads for a while now, and I think this would be the perfect motive.” Dally answered with a grin, (Y/n) knew he was always looking for a fight - hell, everyone knew that, but they weren’t expecting him to start a fight, and possible turf war, over them.

Two-bit finally arrived with the first aid, telling Darry how he might as well put it in a safe if he was gonna make it so hard to find. Soda grabbed it out of his hands and started taking care of (Y/n)’s knees and hands, unwrapping the bandaging that has been poorly placed around her palms. After spraying Neosporin, rewrapping the cuts with new bandages, and ruffling her hair Soda led her to the kitchen table. Darry had already started putting plates of food out, with some still on the counter for those who wouldn’t have room to sit at the table. Afterwards it was as normal as an evening would go, the gang watched Mickey, Pink Panther, and Spider-Man before Darry finally called it at 11pm. As (Y/n) wished the gang goodnight, she remembered just how lucky she was to consider them her brothers.

Hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to submit a request (seriously, I don’t care what it is as long as it’s legal, so no incest, Adult x Child, etc.), and have a great rest of your night, love you guys ☺︎︎❤︎

#the outsiders #asks always open #the outsiders ponyboy #the outsiders sodapop #the outsiders darry #the outsiders two bit #the outsiders steve #the outsiders dally #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders johnny #platonic #please request

[praphit]

Evil Dead Rise: ... but how fat is yo mama?

How much do you trust your gut?

There are certain people who should never trust their gut. In fact, it would benefit them, and everyone around them, if they do the exact opposite of everything their gut leads them to do. Then, there are others who can arrive at a casino, kiss their cards at the blackjack table, and stack winnings all night, you know??

I saw the trailer for "Evil Dead Rise", 

and my gut was like "Meh. Looks generic. Not for me. I'll catch it when it streams... maybe" BUT, MY gut isn't ALWAYS right (a good 90% ;), and it was, at that time, full of beer, so...

Plus, things change when you don't have to pay (which I didn't), and I do have a soft spot for a pretty smile.

Let's do this:

First of all, if some of you diehard "Evil Dead" fans are looking for nostalgia, you won't find much here.

This movie mostly takes place in an apartment, in the city, and not in a cabin. There's no Ash, 

so not as much charm to grace the scenes.

And I'd say, a lot less goofy than any of the other stories told in this franchise.

That could be good or bad for you. Idk.

We've still got The Book of the Dead though!

I'd like to chastise these people for not knowing by now that this book should be left alone, but... any of us would probably do the same thing, right??

We'd find it - "Huh.... kinda looks like that Book of the Dead people have been talking about.Can't be though, right?? That's not real. Actually looks kinda cool."

We'd see that it's made of human flesh and locked tight by sharp teeth - 

"Oh, cool."

We'd prick our fingers on those teeth, and accidentally open this book - 

"Ouch, but kinda cool."

We'd flip through it, thinking it can't be THAT bad, as someone near us says something about having a bad feeling about this - "Yeah, me too, but still kinda cool, right?? I don't believe in any of that stuff. oh, look at this. Let's say these spooky, Latin words out loud."

*spookiness happens*

"Oh, bleep, it IS that bad. Oops. "

That's pretty much what happens here (again). This time it's a family who opens the book. They're living in the city, in a dark apartment.

I mean DARK. The light that they do have seems to be mood setting for a seance, not happy family time. This is before any dark spirits even show up. If I may pause to offer y'all some advice - Be sure not to have your home looking like a place demons would want to hang out.

I would say that every home should have a cross somewhere in it; even if you don't believe in its power: not just a cross, but some Aquafina labeled "Holy Water," or at the very least a picture of Tim Tebow, just to make any demons think twice before entering.

The shit goes down pretty quickly, and the movie has a solid pace of horror and suspense. Don't ask me why nobody seems to live on any other floors in this apartment complex, or why no one thinks to call the cops (not that they could help, but...). There ain't no tenants walking the halls, or yelling about this family being too loud. Nobody at the front desk. Not even any delivery people wandering about. A perfect place to live if you're a drug dealer or murderer; no one around to ask questions. It's pretty much this family and a couple of neighbors being witnesses to bloody screams, loud banging, and demonic possession taking place in the hallway.

Though if you peeked out of your door and saw this woman (Alyssa Sutherland), 

covered in blood. And then, saw a bunch of mutilated bodies in the hall, with some of those mutilated bodies chanting "DEAD BEFORE DAWN!"... perhaps you'd keep to yourself as well. Just put on some noise-cancelling headphones and mind yo own business.

On a technical level, there's a lot to love about this movie:

Lee Cronin was doing his thang in the director's chair. He made all of the gore and blood a delight to watch.

(ok, so maybe a lil nostalgia :)

This movie is very creepy, so big props to him.

These actors are also good. Not like Oscar-winning good :) It's not like we'll hear "And the winner for best actress goes to Alyssa Sutherland (who carried this film btw) for playing a possessed mother, trying to kill her kids." BUT, a lot of these actors have to play "normal people" and then turn around and play possessed people, and that takes some skills to be believable; especially with the younger actors. If you're a fan of gore, look no further! 

There's something that happens at the end of this movie that is artfully terrifying and still kinda fun.  Sam Raimi points for sure!

All of that being said, my gut wasn't too far off.

FOR ME, at least. My gut is for me. Honestly, I missed Ash. I missed a character with his... whatever the hell you can call it. Je ne sais quoi :) All of these characters are bland to me. But, more than that, this movie was kinda hopeless. Now, that's on me. One can't expect to find hope in a movie called "Evil Dead Rise". Fair point, but I guess I was looking for some good vs evil or some "there's still a chance" vs evil. Where are the angelic forces to balance things out? No priests around sensing any disturbances? I'm just looking for ONE person  with some sort of faith. No? Just seemed like TEAM GOOD is dropping the ball here.

Come to think of it, there IS  a priest in this movie (his audio), but his message is pretty much "Well, ya f*cked up, didn't you? Y'all doomed." What kind of priest gives sermons of despair?!

Some might say, "That's the franchise. Praphit, you just don't get it." You know what?? - you're right, and I don't want to. I'm good. i'm afraid that if I end up "getting it" that someone looking like "Mama Smiley" will show up and drag me away.

It's ok not to get things.

Just not for me. If you can say out loud "I just want pure gruesome killing and gore that leaves a taste of unholiness in my mouth for days to come.", then have I got a movie for you. You should probably sit with that declaration for a while :) but afterwards, quickly run to the theaters to see this movie, and declare it your film of the year.

I like demonic possessed killings as much as the next person, but mix it up.

You know that comedian who's known for telling dirty jokes?? I like them too, but I like a lil blend: some knock-knock jokes, some relational humor, and maybe some comments about how fat somebody's mama is.... and then get back to the dirty. I'm cool with that. You can't just give me a river of perversion though :) BUT, some people like that. Some people want to bathe in that river. To each their own, I suppose.

Two grades:

Grade B for you soulless gore-lovers out there, and a generous C,  for the rest of us God-fearing people in the audience :)

There was so much blood at the end of this movie that I couldn't tell the characters apart. They were just red people (I have to admit, I like that :) But, so much gross action was happening in the movie that it literally spilled over into reality. Someone vomited right outside of the theater doors.I don’t know if it was due to the movie or if someone couldn’t hold their liquor, but still...

So much of the demonic, that I craved purity when I walked out. Like being dehydrated on a hot Summer day, longing for water. I needed something pure to cling to. I could see that some others who were walking out needed comfort as well. It was a Saturday, but I bet some of them sped off to church. It was weird, because I felt a glowing appreciation for the blood-soaked art that I just watched (I mean that. A lot of cool parts!), and yet I felt so unclean. All I wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and snuggle up next to my picture of Tim Tebow.

#EvilDeadRise #johnpraphit #praphitproductions.com #EvilDead #HorrorMovies #Demons #Exorcism #Praphit #TimTebow #Faith #God #AlyssaSutherland #MovieReviews #GoreFest #Blood #TheBookoftheDead #Boomstick #unholy

[the-firebird69]

There's a bunch of stuff happening but he's got to go to Dr Gonzalez and I'm worried about it it was acting strange all day yesterday saying it has to be put in line and tons of stuff. It is an invisible person abysmal person not invisible and we have a hard time dealing with him we're doing all this work and it refuses to get my husband anything I said what kind of idiocy is this when you're paying us money to do projects and you won't pay him a dime it says he's in a different situation so he explained it is it don't ask me to explain it again and said his two famous he's too big all of a sudden I said this I'm tired of hearing this s*** in the meeting I said it my words were I'm tired of hearing it this is a bunch of malarkey going on and the fun part is he's going to blame you. I said in code. And he said no we alone and he said yeah I will. So he said you better be strong right now I said I am strong right now you wanker everybody needs money in this life and for some reason you're not paying me money but I know is you're insane and it helps me more than helps you by far it doesn't help you at all and for some reason you don't remember it it's probably the guy in front so he flipped out in the meeting I don't have to pay him anything it was just saying you're f****** nuts on top of it we need him to have stuff and your nuts I said how about how about pain in that 30 dollars to demanded he got up and he said I don't have to put up with this I got Brian actually to handle so as he's leaving he's trying to flip us off and we said if you leave we're just going to take over cuz we don't want to put up with this s*** from you too you going to be a little baby. So you sat down and says what can I do for you we said not much we'll have to handle most of it that's why I said I certainly get something he's going to get very aggressive because we're just sitting here condescending being dicks he said smiling and said these rebels are going to start rising up and I don't have anything to stand on still so you got it since Jesus Christ that was so hard it's hard hardly worth it yeah his car and it started crying says it's true I can't f****** handle any of this s*** so you haven't seen nothing yet my clans gone and hers is gone you haven't seen nothing yet just sitting here being out El Chinco. He raises to set up and it says I know what I have to do is trying to get social security money as I'm pulling teeth you can see now videos yeah I get this you're there bro they're bud they won't pay you a dime cuz they're stupid and I can't get you anything cuz they're stupid that's right I'm getting some rebel ships yes he was saying you're kind of lame it's going to drag on and he's a young guy but thank you for the lesson it's probably going to come naturally from now on it's people so ornery when they have anything the guy next door is nothing and is a huge pig we're looking at taking over the land you know my positions so does he that these people are jerks to him horrendous jerks they just won't let him have anything won't let him get away with anything won't let him even clip his nails without a huge dumb s*** thing happening I'm sick of that too it's a human being and your mistreating the living s*** out of him and shows you're getting a s*** kicked out of you. I don't want to go through this ever again so I'm going to start working mac daddy says. And I'm thanks. I'm thanked by my husband.

Is the process of explaining what's going on this morning they had a meeting and he was steamed and riled up since anybody going to offer any ideas anyone Bob Mars got up said fry them at the state and see what their responses you have to do a sounding Tim Doyle stood up and said push them around like they're pushing us around it's very cute and curious and peculiar and they're pushing us around and we're supposedly the boss Mike two said take it out of them like they took it out of us they're probably scream but they were doing the whole time so I've done it and it works why reinvent the wheel you don't have time to everyone is going to be at us it's only a matter of time. Someone else stood up and said why don't we have a schedule made up and I said we have one they do have one they just don't publish it so you didn't have a schedule and they were surprised and both sides are a mess and tell me if it's doing stuff down there and that's what starts so sorry go off who says it like this the ships were deteriorating and it'll probably not salvageable but 4 years ago it's plenty of time for Tommy f to have started building and turning those ships into lasers and they fight so fiercely that it's probably not ships anymore it's probably huge lasers and that's how it's done when you're fighting over a laser base and the skins show something in the will and Bill said it doesn't look like a ship and so my husband said we're up schitt's creek then and it's not laughing it's worse and they're moving out actually right now

Hera

Those needed that was needed

Zues

Yes little boy all I can hear you thinking

Hera

It's a few reasons why I didn't tell anyone she knows them but we'll go ahead and do it and we're going to roll in this and you guys going to be rolling around in each other very shortly they're going to shut up

Thor Freya

This is making me mad but these rebels know about it now

Mac

We're on all this and we're putting alerts out now we need troops immediately we need people to sign up immediately

Olympus