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cluescorner · 2 months

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Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:

Steph (25):

Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)

Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)

Her worst trait really is her spitefulness

Cass (26)

Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.)

Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness.

Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)

Tim (24)

Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)

Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)

His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)

Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)

Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this).

Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)

His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)

Dick (17)

Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)

Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)

His worst trait actually is his anger issues.

Barbara (18)

Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)

Thinks her worst trait is her disability

Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)

Damian (16)

Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)

Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism

His worst trait actually is his perfectionism

Duke (16)

Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)

Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)

His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words

Jason (14)

Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne).

Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)

His worst trait actually is his reactiveness

#stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tim drake #dick grayson #barbara gordon #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #batfamily #randomizedrobinsau #I'm debating whether I should tag this with the Joker Junior tag and those related to it for Pierrot #because like...it's not quite that. but it's also very close to that and is the direct result of that.#but Pierrot would fucking HATE to be tagged as that and sees it as an insult to his identity...which he already has problems with #so I don't think I'm gonna #anyways lmao I am totally projecting my younger self onto Barbara. How could I not? She's literally the reason I view my disability #the way that I do and she actively improved my mental health just by existing and saying some of the shit she did when I was in the #stages of accepting my own disability. So yeah I am projecting a lot onto her because I love her and see myself in her.#I'm mostly basing these characterizations on my favorite versions of them (ie Red Robin 2009 Tim and Birds of Prey Barbara).#so I'm taking the traits I like/think fit in this AU and discarding what I think either is bad or doesn't fit or if I just don't like it.#Damian's 'murder gremlin who is a meanie on purpose because he is a meanie' is entirely unappealing to me and also does not fit this AU #I prefer him when he's portrayed as a sympathetic kid (who is still an asshole) and not a demon child. So that's what I'm using.#same with Talia's 'abusive mother who is totally on-board with all of her father's bullshit and will kill someone for no reason' version #I have read enough comics to know what I like/what is most important and what I don't like/what is #BLATANT CHARACTER ASSASSINATION GRANT MORRISON YOU FUCK YOU SET TALIA BACK SO FUCKING FAR #I also decided to outline their WORST traits because I already know what I like about these characters/their best traits.#most people do. But what was a greater challenge was finding what would make their lives and those of others worse.#what would I hate about this person if I knew them IRL? What would I first suggest they get therapy for? What hurts them and why?#I found these questions really interesting in the context of this AU where some people are forced into completely different roles #the says/thinks/is was inspired by trying to answer that question for myself. I say my worst trait is my impulsiveness but when #I asked others in my life they answered 'oh so you said your weird thing where you don't ask for help right?'

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batfamfucker · 2 years

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I will now be personally headcanoning that Bruce pulled Tim aside one day to ask his opinion on if Tim would ever consider changing or adding Alfred to his middle name(s). I've always interpreted Jack Drake as having been abusive towards Tim, due to some of the comics where he's been violent and such (Like the time he destroyed some of Tim's belongings and such when he was angry at him, or the straight up neglect when Jack and Janet went to explore the world regularly and leave Tim behind, forgot his birthday, etc), and so I feel like sometimes Tim would feel icky about keeping his middle name as 'Jackson' after his biological father (I'm surprised he ever kept 'Drake' and didn't just fully move to 'Wayne', but alas). I feel like Bruce would also be aware that Tim sometimes feels left out of the family, especially due to the early years of him and Damian's dynamic and constantly being told he was never Bruce's 'real son'. It doesn't take a lot of common sense to realise those kind of words will linger, even after the brothers have improved their relationship. I had originally thought to consider this with Damian, but he's already named after Thomas, so I feel as though Bruce would choose Tim so that he gets to both honour his second father, and let Tim know that he will always be Bruce's son and a part of the family, regardless of DNA. Tim accepts, and so his middle name becomes Alfred, instead of Jackson.

Alfred doesn't find out until he's going over some family legal documents and sees it. He cries when he does.

#I feel as though Bruce would have also considered Jason especially when Jason adores Alfred #And he knows Jason can also feel estranged from the family for obvious reasons #So I feel he would've discussed it with him too as well as Dick to let them know that he isn't trying to leave either of them out #Or make them feel like they're not his sons. But he thinks it would really help Tim's ongoing doubts whilst ensuring he wasn't named #After his abuser (Again I'm ignoring the Drake thing)#And I think Jason and Dick would be understand of it. Dick is named after his biological dad who he loves so he's all good. And Jason is #Aware that Bruce loves him after some therapy and family counselling sessions that Bruce took them to to improve their relationship #Which worked. So Jason knows Bruce is always going to cherish him as his son despite their history. And also both #Brothers are very aware of Tim's feelings (Jason and Tim have bonded over it. He knows how bad Tim can get mentally when he thinks about it #too much) so Jason is completely fine letting his baby brother have the name. Makes up for those bad early days between them a little #Which Jason does still feel guilty about and has talked over with Tim during some of their deep talks where he apologised for it.#Either way I feel like it's the classic Big BrotherTM who also wants his Baby BrotherTM to be okay even if he doesn't admit it #I'm also headcanoning that Cass who didn't have a middle name was approached by Bruce who asked if she liked Martha as a contender #She definitely did #Anyway- I won't tag everyone because I've used half the tag limit already so just the ones in the post #Tim Drake #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Robin #Red Robin #Batman #Agent A #Tim Drake Wayne #Tim Wayne #Batfamily #Abuse mention tw #Headcanon

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iron-sides · 6 months

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ok so on one level i do think tim will hold damian trying to kill him against him like. for years and years if not for EVER. i am nothing if not a believer in tim drakes ability to hold a grudge. how ever it occurred to me today that my little sister used to like. attack me, right. unprompted. she didnt have any way to deal with her feelings other than anger & violence and she couldnt take it out on my parents so it was All directed at me until she was at least 10 and even then we werent close until she hit around 13 or 14 because we (and by we i mostly mean she) learned how to compromise and also because i had started figuring out how to get my Autism Needs met and had more energy to spend on improving that relationship. anyway the point im making is that and it never occurred to me until like today how unreasonable this is but i have never actually held any instance of physical violence (and i do mean physical violence like hitting kicking biting slapping-- i used to have a habit of turning my back to her any time she seemed upset because she Would come at me and it hurt less on my back like. neither of us knew how to fight but i didnt rlly want to hurt her (i did a few times but almost always in the form of like. "oh bee pushed me down the stairs when we were younger" <- girl you were attacking me i needed you out of the room so i could melt down and u were literally attacking me. it wasnt on purpose it was the natural consequence of you attacking me) anyway ive never held the physical violence against her longer than like a few hours (been nervous sure but not mad) because like shes my little sister and i love her and that was the case even when she hated me. its something my parents did an okay job of acknowledging at the time that like any time the lamented that we didnt get along where i could hear it came with a "we know youre trying, she's the problem" (and she was to be clear. i say this with love but she was very much the problem i was the only person she ever attacked and i never hit back except to try and put space between us). anyway. the point is i do think i would react to damian wayne the exact same way dick grayson does if put in a similar situation because if my sister had had assassin training she would have done serious damage and it wouldnt have changed a thing

#my thots #like i would give the world for her. she is my number fucking one thats my girl!!!#im so proud of her at all times and i love her so much and im so glad she knows she can come to me and that we're friends now #i get rlly sappy abt my sister actually there are not words in english to describe how much i love her. shes the reason i love older #sibling characters so much because theres no other feeling in the world like the way i feel about her #anyway. she described to me in detail one time how she was going to kill me. she was three and i was five #i kicked her out of my room bc she did this after we had a minor argument abt sleeping arrangements for the sleepover we were having in my #bedroom #looking back the image of three year old sister waiting with an axe to kill me is rlly funny but it was a lot less funny at the time lol #idk how much sense this makes but i do think part of the reason i love damian and dicks dynamic so much is bc it half reminds me of her #if she was younger and our parents were more overtly shitty than #yell at us about stupid things shitty #anyway i think its an oldest sibling thing like i dont think tim would ever come around because hes not been an older sibling for that long #he hasnt developed the Instincts. but i have as dick grayson very clearly has and the Instincts say small child attacking needs therapy #and patience #this post makes no sense but im not gonna try to fix that bc i need to write a speech #loveposting

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k2ntoss · 3 months

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*in mid-mission with jason as a partner*

jason: you know, i'd die to pin you against a wall right now and have my way with you.

y/n: jason... *in a warning tone*

jason: *now whispering into your ear* i know you won't even try to push me away, you would enjoy it like the good little slut you are being taken in such a place.

jason: bet you're already getting needy, i know if i slide my hand under your pants i'll feel you starting to get w-

barbara: *through the speakers* jason, i think you forgot to turn off your microphone...

barbara: and i think you owe part of us therapy, it would be damian, tim, steph, cass, duke and me...

jason: wait, what about bruce and dick?

barbara: they're taking notes-

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deadsetobsessions · 5 months

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DC X DP WRITING PROMPT:

Danny can hear the screams of the dead, the echoes of ghosts- shades of the dead- unpowered by ectoplasm. It’s his right as the High King of the Infinite Realms.

And during his weekly floats through his home planet to de-stress (no one ever attacks during these floats because a cranky and stressed Danny is a bad time for everyone involved), he comes across the Joker, torturing Tim Drake into becoming Joker Junior. More like he was lead there by the vortex of shades screaming at Joker to let the kid go and versions other threats or incoherent screams of pain and hatred.

He punts the clown into the sun (or in a ditch because Gotham is not known for her love of the thing called “sunlight”) and gathers up a sobbing Tim (JJ) who’s cackling through his tears like the laugh is being torn out of him, and flies away. Danny figures out his own personal ectoplasm shots help the insanity because Tim’s died before (and got brought back) via electro therapy shocks. Danny sees so much of himself in Tim and the potential for both immense good and immense evil and realizing they’re both choosing to seclude themselves to not harm others (Tim locks himself in his room to stop throwing things at Danny when he slips into insanity- which, it doesn’t actually affect Danny because he can turn intangible). Danny realizes that it’s not healthy and it doesn’t make anyone happy, so he works with himself and Tim to heal. Basically, Tim and Danny finds family in each other and heals while Batman, Nightwing, and Alfred loses their shit searching for Tim (“YOU LET JOKER KILL ANOTHER ONE OF MY BROTHERS, B!) (I WON’T LET YOU SHOULDER THE WEIGHT OF KILLING SOMEONE.) (I WOULD SHOULDER ANYTHING IF IT MEANT KEEPING TIM SAFE FROM THE JOKER!!!) (I can’t lose another son, Alfred) (I know, master Bruce. I know.)

Anyways, they find themselves back and Jason’s like hey I’m gonna kill the next Robin- oh wait Joker’s dead huh how’d that happen and then he’s like wtf do you mean “joker junior” wtf wtf wtf

Aunt Harley gets some of her own therapy and tracks Danny down to apologize to Tim, but stays away just in case she triggers an attack. She’s a villain, she’s done some horrible things and felt no guilt for it, but Tim was a line she thought she’d never cross and it kills her

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15minlatewithbatbucks · 8 months

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One of the bats has to go undercover as a patient of a particularly suspect new and upcoming therapist. Bruce already has a backstory fleshed out and a cover identity, but that's no fun now is it.

Dick: Okay, the bat council is now in session. First things first-

Steph: I'm the realest.

Jason: Shut the fuck up.

Dick: No, no arguing. We're here on a MISSION.

Tim: That's right, a very important mission.

Dick: One of us has to go undercover as Dr. Hoffman's patient. But why? Why are we seeking therapy?

Tim: Wrong answers only. If any of you get too real, Dick can and will find you a real therapist.

Dick: And Tim, no superhero related answers. Bernard's PowerPoint nights give you too much of an advantage.

Tim: You're just jealous I know that Batman is actually a tulpa.

Jason: You shut the fuck up too.

---

Dick: Okay, I'll go first to get the obvious answer out of the way. I'm going because I'm secretly Batman, BUT I'm not here about that. I just have incredibly selective amnesia and can't remember the code to the Batmobile.

Jason: Oh that one's good. Let me think.

Steph: Hoffman is a man, right?

Dick: Right.

Steph: Easy, I'll claim womanly problems. Maybe get prescribed a vibrator.

Tim: *wheezes*

Dick: Ok Gotham's in the dark ages of psychology but not THAT much.

Steph: Spoilsport. Fine, I'm Batman's long lost twin sister.

Duke: Come on, we can't all go to therapy because of Batman.

Jason: I don't know, I feel like all of us should go to therapy because of Batman.

Cass: I'll go because I'm Batman.

Jason: I'd vote for you.

Duke: I think I would go because Metropolis isn't real.

Tim: Like, the whole city is-

Duke: It's a conspiracy. The government wants us to think there's this wonderful city where nothing bad ever happens and an actual alien from space saves the day. Tries to make us buy into some utopian bullshit.

Tim: Hoffman's just going to drive you there.

Duke: Ha! He's not getting ME to a secondary location. He might be in on it.

Steph: Compelling, definitely compelling. I nominate Duke's for first place.

Jason: Don't jump the gun.

Tim: Yeah, you haven't heard ours.

Steph: Well? Let's hear it then.

Tim: I'm an alien spy, sent here to study humans. Only I'm not doing well because I was taken in by rich people and they act weirder than me. I want to know what it means to be human, but whenever I look around all I see is how to make a good margarita. It makes me... sad.

Steph: That's no good. We said wrong answers only.

Jason: Solid four out of ten.

Tim: Fuck off.

Jason: I think I would go because I was convinced I was the second coming of Jesus which is all fine and good, but my whole family is Jewish so it's making things a little awkward at the dinner table.

Steph: You did come back from the dead.

Jason: I did and I'll tell him that. Took a little longer than three days this time, though.

Tim: Okay, I'll be honest. Jason and Duke's are the best.

Dick: Hold on- Damian, do you have an answer?

Damian: Of course. And not one so foolish.

Duke: Well?

Damian: Well, my whole family is comprised of vigilantes and I'm under a lot of stress to be one as well and continue the family tradition. I will of course swear him to secrecy and avoid naming any vigilantes by name.

Dick: ...

Jason: This is what I'm talking about. This is exactly what I'm-

Dick: Yes, okay. Game's over. All of you are getting psych referrals in your inbox by the morning.

Steph: What about-

Dick: Duke won.

#tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #my writing tag #this is obviously a joke and not a real 1:1 representation of reasons to seek therapy #let's see how long before someone wildly misinterprets it #batfamily

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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖘 | professor!jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | it can be difficult, living a double life: spending your days as a scholarship student at gotham university, and your nights as batgirl, the legendary heroine, fighting alongside batman and robin. though it proves to take a toll on you mentally and physically, flunked term papers and missed lectures will be the least of your problems when you encounter the scarecrow somewhere in the shadowy alleyways of gotham...

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | NONCON SMUT (18+ only; violent/rough sex, use of fear toxin, degradation, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, bondage), professor/student dynamic (therefore implied age gap), some angst and depiction of ptsd/aftermath, reader is dating robin/tim drake

“And so,” Professor Crane continued, looking towards the class from the board, chalk in hand, "this triggers the fear response, and all that comes with it. You're probably familiar with the symptoms of fear: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal."

A few giggles could be heard at that, and he rolled his eyes.

"Not that sort of arousal, necessarily," he frowned.

Everyone else just brushed off the childish humor of the moment, but you narrowed your eyes, getting a sense that the word necessarily was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.

He returned to his lecture, drawing lines in chalk over his crude diagram of the human brain, explaining how each area of the brain contributed to fear and the fight-or-flight response. As he spoke, you re-read the handout he’d given today— and you chewed on your lip absent-mindedly as you reviewed the bibliography.

"Dr. Crane?" you raised your hand, interrupting his lecture mid-sentence. "I had a question about some of the studies you reference here."

"Yes?" he returned, turning to face you with a slightly confused expression.

"Well you cite a paper out of Berkeley from 2002, to support the conclusion that exposure therapy is the best response to aggressive phobias— however, if you actually read the paper—"

"I read the paper, Miss," he interrupted sternly.

"Then, if you actually understood the paper," you continued, a few students gasping and laughing softly at your insubordination, "then you would see that the conclusions indicate the perceived decrease in fear response comes at the expense of long-term stability. Don't you think that negates any positive implications?"

The silence in the room was tense: everyone was waiting for how he would respond to your critique. Instead, he just smiled at you slightly. "I think you may have more context for how research is conducted, and reevaluate your conclusions, when you get a chance to organize your own research— in about a decade."

"Actually, Professor, I'll be leading my own experiment this quarter," you corrected, just as he was about to turn away from you and keep lecturing. "I'm the recipient of the Wayne Enterprises Collegiate Scholarship— which pays for my education here and also comes with a fifty thousand dollar research grant."

“Ah,” he said, bitterness dripping from his tone as he set his hands on the desk and leaned forward a bit. “May I ask what topic you hope to explore with your research?”

“Crime,” you explained, “and criminal behavior.”

“Hm,” he nodded, frowning slightly in an impressed sort of way, taking his weight off the desk. “And it doesn’t bother you that you’re here studying psychology?”

You lowered your brow, confused by his question. “I’m sorry?”

“Criminology is a subfield of sociology, which is related to but distinct from psychology,” he explained.

“Would you recommend that I switch majors, Doctor?” you asked simply.

“Well, it’s no secret that you’ve set the curve on our last two exams,” Dr. Crane smiled, tilting his head slightly. “So, no— I think I’d rather keep you here.”

You straightened up slightly, taken aback by his wording.

“Plus, while you’re still in my department,” he continued, “I have a better chance of talking some sense into you.”

With that, he returned to teaching, and you noticed how the other students were watching you before you sighed and tried to listen to the rest of class.

You caught up with him on a long stretch of hallway, just as he stepped up to his office door. “Professor!” you got his attention, and he turned to you with a slightly smug look as he held his hands together.

“Ah, yes,” he greeted, “I see you’re here to apologize for how you spoke to me in class today?”

You knew he didn’t actually expect that, he knew better after having you under him for the last two quarters— um, so to speak. “Just as soon as you do,” you offered with a smirk in return, shifting your weight on your hip.

That was what moved your button-down slightly, and his eyes drifted down to your neck— when they did, confusion and concern suddenly painted his expression. “My,” he gasped a little, pulling on the collar of your shirt with one finger to expose a healing scrape on your chest; his fingertip brushed over your skin and the golden chain of your necklace, and you jumped away slightly. “How’d you get that?”

“It’s nothing—” you blurted out, blinking quickly, “I tripped, on campus, actually.”

“That wonky step up to the Commons?” he assumed. “I’ve filed two complaints about that loose brick…”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, smiling. “Yeah, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I didn’t catch myself well while holding my books—”

“Hm,” he nodded back, “that’s a shame. A girl as smart as you, forgetting the Commons building doesn’t have brick steps— or steps at all, in fact.”

You swallowed thickly, glancing away.

“You sure were eager for an explanation, though,” he smiled. “How’d you really get such a nasty scrape? It does look like concrete, but I’m guessing it didn’t happen on campus—”

“It’s no matter,” you assured.

“It wasn’t that boyfriend of yours, was it?” he pressed. “Mr. Drake, as I recall?”

“Wha— no!” you gasped.

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

“Well, he is,” you explained, “but he didn’t—”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Crane offered, lowering his voice slightly.

“Of course,” you sighed, “but there’s nothing to tell. Things are fine with Tim, I promise.”

“He shared your interest in criminal studies, didn’t he?” Professor Crane recalled. “Clearly, he didn’t share your scholarly aptitude, though, seeing as he’s dropped out.”

“H-he was smart enough,” you justified, “he left because of stress.”

“Ah,” the Professor nodded, “and he doesn’t take that stress out on you at all?”

“C’mon, Professor, Tim’s a good person,” you promised.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Crane replied, “but it’s the ones that act the kindest that have the most to hide, isn’t it?”

You knew there was another meaning to that statement, but there were so many possibilities that you couldn’t settle on one.

“You understand that if I suspect anything, I’m required to alert our student wellness services,” he reminded you. “They’ll have a counselor reach out to you—”

“Listen, Dr. Crane— I didn’t come here to speak to you about my personal life,” you reminded him, “I wanted to ask you about my performance in the class so far, in your opinion.”

He paused before sighing in relent. “I’m a little concerned, actually,” he admitted, “about your most recent paper.”

He pulled it from the folder under his arm and handed it back to you— covered in red ink. You blinked at him, biting your lip in confusion. “I thought these wouldn’t be returned until—”

“I worked on yours first,” he explained quickly, even though that explanation only brought more questions than answers. “It’s still very strong, but it’s not what I expect from you at this point. It feels rushed.”

Rushed— yeah, I remember this one. I wrote it all the night it was due because I spent the three days before recovering from that fight with Falcone’s thugs at the docks—

“I’ll let you rewrite it,” he offered, “if you can get it back to me before I return the rest of your classmates’ work.”

You laughed a little, looking at the paper in front of you, and Crane knitted his brows together. “You know, Professor, sometimes I can’t tell if I’m your favorite student, or your most hated.”

He smiled a little, glancing down briefly at the floor in a sort of self-effacing way. “I don’t have favorites,” he assured, unconvincingly. “You’re not my best student, or my worst— you’re an entirely different kind of student. You’re nothing like those other… juvenile, moronic co-eds looking in the exact wrong place for an easy A.”

Your eyes widened a little, seeing the way he let a little irritation— disdain, really— paint his tone. He snarled a bit as he spoke, his nostrils flaring; like he was holding it back, how much resentment he really had for your classmates.

As quickly as it came, he seemed to shake it off, and then he smiled again… but it was tight, and forced, you could see that just as easily. “You challenge me,” he finished quickly. “I appreciate that as much as I detest it.”

You smiled back, somewhat genuinely despite the icky feeling that suddenly wiggled in your stomach. “I suppose I feel the same way,” you admitted.

He opened his mouth, hesitating slightly, before tilting his head the other way and starting over. “Could you come into my office for a minute?” he asked suddenly, a strange glimmer in his eyes behind the thin silver glasses. “I’d like to show you my latest work— I think you’ll find it quite intriguing…”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys and started to unlock his office door, and you didn’t feel too excellent about it.

Just then, a group of students walked by, and you heard them talking amongst each other as one looked at a text message on her phone. “Oh my god,” one said as she explained to those around her, “my friend’s at the bank right now— she said someone’s holding up the place…”

“What?” another student asked, and you tilted your head a bit to hear them better.

“Yeah, the one on Main and 57th? The police aren’t there yet— she said they have guns…”

Your heart started to race. Sounds like a job for Batgirl.

Crane was in his own world, though, about to open the door. “Maybe I can even convince you to change some of your conclusions about the study of fear,” he posited.

You stepped back, motivated to leave just as much by a strange suspicion of Professor Crane as the opportunity to stop the nearby bank robbery. “I-I have to go,” you said, before you’d thought of a good excuse— and that hadn’t gone well for you last time, but hopefully he wasn’t going to quiz you on campus architecture again to trip you up.

He looked confused, a little sad even, as he turned to you again. “This won’t take long,” he promised, “I’d just like to show you—”

“Sorry,” you blurted out as you kept backing up, “I gotta… you know, um… buy tampons.”

Hoping something that awkward would get him to stop asking questions, you turned on your heel and darted off down the hall, looking for the best way off campus and to a secluded spot where you could pull your Batgirl get-up out of the false compartment in your bag and get to work.

“I don’t like you going out there alone,” Bruce said flatly, not looking up from his hands clasped in his lap.

“Wow, really?” you rolled your eyes, feigning surprise. “News to me.”

“You’re too young, and it’s dangerous,” he continued anyway.

“Doing all the greatest hits tonight, huh?” you smirked. “Next you’ll say you need to keep up your identity better, study hard so no one suspects you and then finish it off with don’t touch the Batmobile.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You can touch it, you just can’t drive it.”

“Right,” you agreed flatly, sighing as you adjusted in your spot on the couch. You’d taken up shop here in the Wayne Manor private library: something about your interaction with Professor Crane yesterday made you want to study off-campus for the afternoon…

You knew Bruce had a point about working alone— you didn’t really want to be alone, you were certainly safer when you had Batman by your side. The problem was that you were too safe… Bruce protected you so well that he hindered you; you’d accused him of wanting you to just stay behind and patch him up after fights rather than actually helping. He denied it, obviously, but actions speak louder than words— and there was such a difference in the way he treated you and Robin was obvious.

In fact, that itself had driven a wedge between you and your boyfriend— one of many reasons Bruce had implored you both not to get involved in that way, but it was sort of unavoidable. You can only do such high intensity, high pressure work alongside someone for so long before the tension is too much to bear…

Then again, that very tension that made your relationship with Tim threatened to break it, and you knew that— you felt that, even now, as he looked at you with a sympathetic sort of stare. You cleared your throat and focused on your book again.

“Please don’t go out without us again,” Tim asked— softer, sweeter, lacking that father-figure-sternness Bruce was always trying to muster.

“I think the people in that bank are pretty happy that I did,” you replied with a snarky smile.

“We were on our way—” Bruce began.

“It was a one man job!” you insisted.

“There were seven men on that heist team— and two more parked outside,” Bruce explained, getting more frustrated as this discussion continued. “It doesn’t matter. We work as a team.”

“Except when you go out alone,” you reminded him.

“I’ve been doing this longer,” he explained, standing up, “I’ve been doing it better, and I’ve been doing it on my own since you were still in high school.”

“Then why did you take me in?” you returned sharply, knitting your brows together in confusion and frustration. “Why did you train me, why did you bring me here and tell me the truth?”

“Because I saw your potential,” he answered as he began to walk away, “not because you’re ready to save the whole fucking world by yourself.”

You shook your head in frustration— almost disbelief, except of course he would do this— as Bruce shut the door behind him. Conversation didn’t go his way, he just left— that was normal. Ironic, for a man who interrogated criminals on the street almost daily.

“He’s right,” Tim informed you after a pregnant pause, and you glared at him.

“Would you excuse me? I have to study,” you explained sharply as you motioned to the textbooks and notepads laid out on the table, as you’d had them before you were interrupted by these two, “because apparently the best thing Batgirl can do is not be Batgirl.”

“Hey,” Tim sighed, “he doesn’t mean it like that… he just wants you to keep focusing on your studies, that’s all.”

“I just think it’s funny—” you began.

“I bet it’s not gonna be very funny,” Tim noticed with a frown.

“— that Bruce thinks it’s so important that I keep my grades up so nobody knows what I’m doing at night— so nobody knows that I’m not getting any goddamn sleep— but you got to drop out and that apparently wasn’t going to make anybody suspicious?” you noticed. “You know, I had a professor ask me about you today— wondering what was up with you leaving so suddenly. Why is nobody worried about that?”

“We worry about you because we care about you,” he explained.

You tossed your books aside, standing up to face Tim properly. “That’s bullshit,” you spat.

“You think I don’t care about you, seriously?” he asked.

“I know you care about me, but you don’t respect me,” you explained, “neither of you do. You two go off and do what you want, you’d rather me be your nurse than actually be out there— when you know damn well that you need me!”

“I need you,” Tim promised, “in so many ways. That’s why I can’t let anything happen to you—”

“Well, things need to happen to me sometimes! Isn’t that what life is, things happening to you?!” you laughed exasperatedly. “I mean, shit, why do I go to school at all? Why don’t you guys just lock me at the top of Wayne Tower and I’ll never ever leave and you can just climb up my hair when you wanna come visit!”

“Christ,” Tim groaned, “you are so fucking ridiculous sometimes— what are you trying to prove? Why do you need to be out there every night beating up bad guys, whether Bruce tells you to or not?”

Instead of answering that, you simply accused: “He obviously likes you better than me.”

“Is that really what this is about? You want Bruce to like you?!” Tim scoffed. “Are you that shallow?”

“I want him to trust me!” you clarified. “I want him to understand what I’m capable of!”

“You know what you’re capable of,” he replied, grabbing your shoulders. “I know. Is that not enough?”

You let out a long breath, looking down at the floor.

“I love you,” Tim sighed— but it didn’t sound very sweet when he said it like that, it sounded sad.

“I love you too,” you replied instinctively, but it felt oddly hollow leaving your lips.

“Please,” he breathed as he pressed his forehead to yours, “please stay safe. You’re stronger than me, you can take a lot more than I can.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, since you both knew he was physically stronger and more resilient than you, walking away from fights that could’ve put you in a stretcher. But before you could ask, he spoke again.

“My heart can only take so much.”

But that only proved your point, though you didn’t tell him out loud: that what him and Bruce wanted you to do had nothing to do with your strength, and everything to do with their weakness.

In your defense, you took the night off.

But the next night, you had to get out there— Bruce and Tim told you to stay behind so Batman and Robin could go save the day, and you? You were holding down the fort, keeping the couch warm. What a fucking waste; there was more evil in this city than two men could purge— there was more for you to do. As tempting as it was to meet them at the rendezvous location they’d figured out and try to help clear out the gangsters there buying an illegal weapons shipment, you knew that would just lead to the same fight again. This time, the plan was to go out, kick some criminal ass, come back, and leave Bruce none the wiser.

You scanned police radios patiently, waiting for just the right thing— small enough to fix on your own, big enough to matter. You wished, sometimes, that you had less to choose from…

Units respond, units respond — 10-79 reported at West Main and 88th.

Bomb threat. That felt manageable, and you were pretty handy with defusal in case that threat had any credibility. You turned off the radio and stood up, looking down over the city from your vantage point on a highrise fire escape. It was beautiful, in its grimy Gotham way: a light rainfall coated everything in a fuzzy static like old film; it made the concrete reflect the neon lights a little clearer, the whole skyline sort of slick and steamy.

Running and jumping to the next roof, you made a path to your destination and navigated the city unseen, like any good Bat-person would.

You were nearly there when you stopped on a roof above an abandoned manufacturing plant— well, that’s the thing, it wasn’t as abandoned as you thought. There was a glass sunroof, and even though it was dark and rainy, the light inside brought your attention to a group of men inside. Not to profile or anything, but 4 bald guys with guns standing around is usually a good sign that someone’s up to no good…

Trying to get a better look at what was going on inside, you carefully lifted one of the glass panels and slipped inside, sneaking around the metal scaffolding as the sound of the rain was muffled and replaced with distance, echoing voices.

You crouched in the rafters, watching with narrowed eyes as the group of men faced against a figure you couldn’t make out with the shadows and pillars in the way.

“So, are we good for this deal, or what?” the leader of the group asked.

A modulated, deeper voice answered: “This is half of what we agreed.”

“My team had some… road bumps, trying to bring this to you,” the man explained, stepping forward slightly. “We lost some of the compound. This is what we’re offering, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” the shadowy figure agreed. “How much for what’s left?”

“The same price we discussed.”

“For half the amount? How does that work?”

“It’s a flat rate,” the smuggler— that’s what he must have been, right?— explained with a smug smirk. “In fact, I should charge you more— call it hazard pay, for what my men had to go through to get this here.”

“I see,” the deeper voice replied. “How about this: I kill all of you, and take it.”

Your eyes widened; isn’t this guy alone? He’s sure got some balls…

The group of men paused before beginning to laugh. “You?” the leader repeated. “This skinny guy in the suit is gonna kill all of us?”

“I can do worse than that— I’ll make you beg for me to kill you.”

Feeling the tension of this discussion reach its breaking point, you realized you needed to intervene now: leaning over to make sure you had the right spot under you, you took the grappling hook off of your belt and pointed it down.

Firing it with a metallic whooshing sort of sound, the device grabbed one of the men and yanked him up into the shadows of the ceiling with you. Everyone on the ground looked up in shock and fear, pointing their guns aimlessly into the darkness. Before he could even really react to what had just occurred, you dropped the man back down— onto one of his friends, of course, which incapacitated them both but saved him from a much worse fate than if he’d landed on that concrete warehouse floor.

“What the fuck?” the leader of the group yelled as he tried to fire indiscriminately up at you— but you were already running along the steel beam, following one of the men as he tried to make a dash for the exit.

A blast from your long-distance taser gun brought him to the ground instantly, and as the last one left searched for the source of your attacks, you jumped down to the ground just behind him, landing in a crouched position. As soon as he’d turned around to face you, you’d grabbed a loose metal pipe from nearby and hit him over the head with an oddly-satisfying bong noise.

You knew the other man was still somewhere in the dark nearby, and you called out for him: “Whoever you are, stop hiding in the shadows: that’s kinda my thing,” you informed him.

He stepped forward in the cool, gray light: a man in a torn and tattered suit, with a burlap mask that had massive stitches like scars. Batman had just warned you about this guy, what was his name again?

"My," he purred with pleasant shock, his voice clearly deepened electronically by something in that sack on his head. "If it isn't Batgirl. Nice outfit, very… shiny."

"Yours looks pretty rough," you noticed.

He shrugged. "It does the job."

You smiled back, remembering finally who you were dealing with. "Not with me. I'm not scared of you, Scarecrow."

"You will be," he promised.

You swung first, a roundhouse kick right at his head, but he ducked and came back up at you— he tried to grab you but you slipped away.

Instead of going after you again, he ran— grabbed one of the suitcases off of the palette nearby, whatever this ‘shipment’ was, and bolted for the door into the alleyway. You almost laughed, impressed that he thought he could outrun you, but then again this was the guy who threatened to kill four armed men straight to their face.

You chased him right out the door, but as you dashed into the alley behind the manufacturing plant— the one that faced the northern street— you learned a moment too late that he hadn’t run at all, but was waiting for you there.

He sprayed something in your face, and you coughed as a cloud of vapor filled your lungs. You assumed it was pepper spray at first, but it didn't burn— actually, it smelled a little sweet, sort of herbal. But the effects were almost instantaneous, the pounding in your chest and the sinking feeling in your gut, the world spinning around you.

The fear response: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal.

Instantly you felt old memories rushing in— awful, horrifying ones, and even worse than you remembered them. For a moment, there was fear with no real object, just the feeling… until he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, at the wicked mask that seemed impossibly close— that seemed like it could swallow you whole. You screamed, trying to turn away or shut your eyes or something, but nothing assuaged the terror.

"Please," you sobbed. "Make it stop! Please!"

“Nothing can stop it now,” his voice returned— even rougher and darker than before, the deep bass of it making you shiver. “This is who you are. Give in to the fear.”

If nothing else, he had a point that fighting it wasn’t proving very useful— but giving in meant letting the world collapse in on you, letting the darkness pull you back… the darkness you’d fought so hard to make into an ally was becoming your enemy again.

He grabbed your mask and tugged it away; even overwhelmed with primal terror, enough logic remained for you to reach up and try to cover your face.

But he simply grabbed your hands and shoved them away. You heard a laugh behind that horrible mask, just before he suddenly took it off.

The toxin changed his face, too— his smile was wider and his teeth sharper, his eyes totally black— and you couldn't recognize him at first. Only when he addressed you by name did you finally put it together; "Professor Crane?" you realized with a horrified gasp.

"I imagine you haven't finished rewriting that paper yet?"

"Oh god," you sobbed, "you— you're— how can you do this?"

You struggled against him again, but he held you back effortlessly. “I said I liked you because you’re a challenge,” he remembered with a laugh. “But out here, you’re no challenge at all. Just a stupid little girl in a mask.”

He slapped you hard across the face, making you stumble even more as you lost your balance, colliding with the damp black asphalt.

He descended onto you, turning you on your back when you tried to hide your face in your arm as an escape from the terrifying visions. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to put you in your place,” he admitted with a growl as he started to pull your armored clothes off of you roughly. “You act a little too fearless for my liking… good to know it’s all an act.”

You cried, shaking and flailing beneath him, but you couldn’t actually put up a fight like this— the darkness throbbed around you, shadows reaching out to pull you into their abyss. “Please,” you begged again, “no! Stop, please!”

You weren’t even sure yourself if you were talking to him or to the hallucinated, anthropomorphized energy in the dark, but neither stopped. He struggled at times to get your clothes off, they weren’t exactly designed to come off quickly but you shuddered violently from the cool night air when your chest was exposed. You heard a deep growl from him, and you whimpered loudly as his hands ran over your skin. “What are you so scared of?” he asked, sounding amused— but in your mind, those hands were claws that could shred you to pieces at any moment, and you breathed so fast that your chest just spasmed and quaked. “I think you’ve been needing this for a while…”

He roughly turned you onto your stomach, face down against the street, and started to tug down your pants. You were too scared to even beg him to stop, to try to bargain or reason with him— you just shuddered and cried, hiding your face and hoping for relief from the dread.

He smacked you on your bare ass, once it was exposed, and chuckled to himself at your whine in response. The next thing you heard was the sound of a belt opening, a zipper unzipped…

Was it the toxin that made you afraid he would rip you in half, when he pressed his erection against your thigh? Or was that just common sense?

You grimaced when you heard him spit into his hand, but it fell into a whining cry as he pushed his tip against your opening. With your pants only down to your knees, you couldn’t even spread your legs at all, making you feel even more like there was no chance he could fit. The sick, anxious fear felt a little different now— maybe not as strong, but mostly just something new… something deeper and subtler and heavier. It wasn’t visions of monsters or memories of suffering, it was just this inevitable violation and the sureness that you were completely helpless.

He pushed his hips forward sharply, making you scream out and instantly reach back to try to grab his hips and push them away. He ignored it and kept going forward with a low groan. “Mm, you can take it,” he promised gruffly. “Fucking take it.”

You cried as he put a hand on your shoulders, keeping you pressed down painfully into the ground, as he slid the rest of the way in.

It stung, it stretched you in an awful way and went far too deep… but you were wet, you could feel it. Overall heightened arousal… not that sort of arousal, necessarily. He obviously noticed as well, growling a bit. “You like this, hm?” he accused.

“N-no,” you managed to slur, but it was hard to even breathe with his weight pressing you down. You pushed back harder against his thighs through his undone trousers, but he growled and grab your hand to pin it down above your head. He brought the other up beside it, and quickly pulled his belt out from the loops to tie around your wrists. “Professor,” you pleaded under your breath, feeling your warm tears mix with the cold rain on the ground.

But he was already inside you, it was too late for that— and with your hands conveniently out of the way, he breathed heavy as he started to pull back and shove back in.

There was no build-up after that, he just fucked you as hard and fast as he wanted with no regard for how you cried and struggled under him. He grabbed your hair and forced your head back awkwardly as you sobbed.

“Say my name,” he ordered, apparently irritated by the title of ‘Professor’ — but you didn’t know for sure if he wanted to be addressed as Jonathan or Scarecrow, and you feared the consequences if you chose incorrectly.

Still, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “J-Jonathan,” you spat out hoarsely, and he grinned happily before dropping you back onto the ground. You struggled against the belt around your wrists— not actually expecting to get out of it, and not having any plan if you did, just mainly out of instinct. All it did was dig the sharp edge of the leather into your skin, making you cry harder.

It rocked you back and forth on the ground, those rough thrusts— the friction inside you was hot and fast, and each time he slammed all the way in, you heard the clapping of skin on skin and felt his tip ram against the deepest places inside you. You didn’t even realize it was possible to be bruised inside like that, but you knew you would be by the end of this.

He didn’t slow down, really, but he changed his rhythm slightly and found an angle to go even just a bit deeper into you, until you whined pathetically with every pump into you. It seemed like the toxin was wearing off, in that you weren’t seeing things anymore, but there was still obviously a sick feeling in your stomach, and an unreliable beating in your chest, and a deep throbbing in your ears.

“You’re getting even wetter,” he noticed with a low chuckle, and you whimpered as you hoped not to have to acknowledge that. “Fucking soaking me— poor girl, I don’t think you can help it…”

At least it made this hurt a little less, but no amount of wetness could prevent him from holding your hips painfully tight and fucking you so forcefully it seemed hateful. You whined loudly with every movement, fingers curling into shaky fists even when it was useless with his belt restraining you.

When you turned your face to the side, you saw figures at the other end of the alley— not hallucinations, nothing scary, just passersby on the street— and you reached out for them instinctively as hope flooded your chest. Blinking the tears from your eyes, you could see them clearer: a man and woman, older, well-dressed. “P-please,” you croaked out in a broken voice, “please, help me— call the police—”

They heard you, and they turned and looked at you, only to grimace and turn away; the man pulled his date closer, shuffling her away with him as they kept walking. You whimpered pathetically, and Crane laughed above you. “That’s Gotham for you,” he mused. “No one wants to get involved. These are the people Batgirl wants to save?”

They weren’t the only ones who saw, either; later, a small crowd of young men in bandanas and baggy pants passed by— some of them looked young enough to still be in high school. You prayed to anything that would listen that they would move along without noticing, but one of them saw and pointed at you two with a scoffing laugh. Feeling as if you could throw up, you shut your eyes tight and heard the chorus of jeers as they realized what they were seeing. They laughed and hollered; what the fuck, dude! and ohh shit and hey, she’s pretty hot declared in juvenile voices between raunchy chuckles. You saw flashes of light when you blinked your eyes— were they taking pictures of this with their phones? You wondered if Jonathan would be forced to stop them, if he was concerned about evidence, but he didn’t react at all… he didn’t even slow down.

Once they’d gotten an eyeful and the sight had lost its shock, they wandered away— you could still hear their voices echoing around the buildings for a moment until it all faded in with the ambient sounds of the city: sirens, horns, footsteps, and that perpetual Gotham drizzle.

“I can feel it,” he whispered to you suddenly, “it keeps squeezing me. Such a needy fucking cunt.”

You didn’t know if the ‘cunt’ was referring to your anatomy or to you as a person, and either option made your throat a little dry— but dryness was the least of your problems between your legs, in fact you were pretty sure you were dripping now, you could feel how slippery and sticky you’d become. Your thighs were coated, it was even running down over your swelling and neglected clit.

He lowered himself a bit, resting his arms beside your head and breathing close to your ear. He even brushed some of your hair out of the way with his hand, wanting to get a better look at your face, and you shut your eyes.

Increasingly loud groans and sighs above you made you realize what was about to happen, just as much as the throbbing feeling inside you.

“F-fuck,” he let out in a scratchy voice. “Fuck!”

You whimpered yourself just as you heard him choke out a sort of high-pitched, shaky moan, and his thrusts went from erratic and desperate to slower and uneven. He twitched inside you, and you felt the flood of heat in impossible contrast to the cold ground under you.

“God…” he groaned, his hand on your shoulder tightening and digging a little too deep into your skin. Then he laughed a little as he finally came to a stop— breathless, light, almost making him sound impressed. With you or himself, it’s hard to say; it sounded like a laugh of relief.

A lump formed in your throat as you considered what you were supposed to do now— he’d just come inside you, raw, and it made your stomach sink (but it made your walls clench unexpectedly, too). As he carefully pulled out, you whimpered at the way it reawakened the sting of his first entrance— especially when he first pushed inside. He sighed heavily when he finally got himself out of you completely, and then his hands— hot, a little clammy, and strong— came into view to free your aching wrists from his belt.

He stood up over you, and you heard him readjust his trousers before zipping them up and putting back on his belt. “Was it good for you?” he asked with a quiet, but smug, chuckle.

Bringing your hands nearer to press against the ground, you tried to lift yourself up on shaking arms. When your torso was only a few inches off the pavement, Jonathan put his polished shoe on your back between your shoulder blades and pushed you back down. You whimpered as he looked down at you, tilting his head while he admired your helpless form.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

Finally taking his foot off of you, he picked his mask up from the ground, sighing as he shook some of the raindrops off of it and put it back on.

“Well,” he began with a sigh, his voice modulated by the sack over his head again, “I’ll see you in class. I look forward to seeing what you do with that paper.”

You didn’t watch him leave; you just heard the warehouse door shut again. Your eyes were looking blankly forward, blinking away stinging tears, looking at the way the neon lights of the buildings across the street reflected in the puddles on the ground.

You jolted, much more than necessary, when someone knocked on the bathroom door; it made the water in your bath ripple, though the fluffy white surface of the bubbles was hardly disturbed. “Can I come in?” you heard Bruce’s voice.

“Yeah,” you answered, but he stopped when he opened the door.

“You’re not decent,” he noticed, turning away.

“There’s bubbles everywhere, you can’t see anything,” you sighed, and he stepped the rest of the way in. A pause that both of you pretended wasn’t awkward occurred.

“Tim told me that you came back roughed up,” he said eventually.

You said nothing.

“I told you not to—” he began.

“I know.”

He sighed; you kept staring forward at the white tile wall in front of you. "What happened?" he asked simply.

“I know Tim told you already— two guys, probably Falcone’s— they went at me in a tunnel by the Southside,” you explained with a sigh. “I was just following a stolen van, I didn’t know who took it— I would’ve called you if I knew. I just wanted something I could handle on my own.”

You knew the story didn’t add up; Falcone’s men would’ve probably given you a black eye, maybe a broken nose, and bruises on your stomach from kicks and punches. Instead what you had were concrete scrapes on your cheek, fingerprint-sized bruises on your hips and thighs, and thin abrasions all around your wrists. Not to mention the jitters and auditory hallucinations from working Crane’s toxin out of your system— his voice, still in your ear: just a stupid little girl in a mask. You’d stopped looking over your shoulder by now, but your heart still raced every time.

You knew the story didn’t add up, but you knew it didn’t matter, because Bruce was going to buy it. He wasn’t ready to imagine the truth yet. This time, when you heard Crane’s voice, it wasn’t a hallucination but a memory: you sure were eager for an explanation.

Bruce nodded and began to walk out of the bathroom. “Alright,” he said. “Rest up.”

You scoffed to yourself as he left quietly— for a detective, he still had a few blindspots. Surely, we all do.

Left alone in the bathroom again, you were surrounded by silence once more. In silence, it was easier to hear his voice in your ear. Just a stupid little girl in a mask.

The shrill sound of your cell phone startled you, and you awkwardly leaned out of the tub just far enough to grab it off of the pile of towels you'd left it on.

"Hello?" you answered, irritation obvious in your tone.

“Hello, ma’am, this is Tracy from the Gotham University Student Wellness Center,” the sweet, lilting voice came from the other end of the line. “We recently received notice of concern that you may be experiencing domestic violence. We’d love for you to come into our office to discuss this and receive complementary counseling, when’s a good time that we could—?”

You hung up and tossed the phone away, sinking down into the water.

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy x reader #scarecrow smut #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane dark fic

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qcomicsy · 1 year

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a list of funniest things jason todd could do:

slowly steal the parts of the batmobile and reassemble it elsewhere, then pull up next to bruce in his own second secret batmobile

become a lawyer and get joker setenced to the death penalty - bonus is that he completes college and gets a degree which bruce never did and alfred is proud beyond the gravethat one of his grandkids actually completed college

change bruces name to "free trires" in his phone contacts

call time the wrong name everyday, but it starts of sounding like a genuine mistake (tom, jim ect) and slowly gets further and further away from the original (jimothy, jeremy, dave, the dogs name)

dye his hair red, claim he was an original red head and then gaslight the family into believing bruce made him dye his hair black to look more like dick and be a replacement

come out as gay and claim to be the only gay member of the batfamily and when tim tries to say something to dispute it he just hits him with "who are you again? the computer guy or smthing?"

could also come out as poly and roll up to family dinners with more than one partner and if someone says something about it, he just says "mad cuz i got TWO more partners than you huh. lonesome bitch."

feel free to add on

LMAAAAOO THIS IS GREAT

Let's go.

Made a carbon copy of Batman and spread in strategic places on the Batcave, Tim's boat, Clock Tower, Duke's nest and Dick's house. (He almost killed them)

(One of Dick's colleagues saw it and he had to lie he was this die hard Batfanboy, his ego never recovered until today.)

Stole Tim's mug and placed on Damian's room, stole Damian's mug and placed on Tim's boat then proceeded to visit the Manor until he hard the scream of the fight he planted between them;

When he saw Bernard for the first time he said "Whoa Timmy you move on fast, this one is Terry right?";

Did a Tramp Stamp tattoo;

Slut shames Dick every chance he gets (this one is actually cannon);

Shot Dick's phone;

Every Christmas shows up with a different Outlaws member and affirms that's his partner

Dated an arrow to piss of his dad, when Bruce got over it proceeded to date a lantern instead;

Never told no one other than Dick he's actually in a stable relationship with Artemis because he refuses to swap Bruce's horrified reaction to a normal one;

Gave Bernard the shovel talk;

When he bumped with Selina after the (failed) marriage and she teased him on how he didn't gave her shit for it he just answered "No, no I get it"

Purposely brings Harley to bat reunions under the bullshit "She's my therapist" when the bats bother him, knowing his therapy with Harley only count when they're at her office;

Told every one he's Harley's adopted kid (actually Harley was the one to say that once when she was drunk and he just went along with it);

Exchanged Bernard's number to Kon's in Tim's cell phone and vice-versa;

Left his Mustache grow and showed up as Matches Malone in one of Wayne's Gala;

Lied he was actually a Titan but they kicked him out because Dick's is an asshole;

Stoled Signal's Patrol Lunch;

Stole's Spoiler's lunch;

Brought alcohol to manage going through their family gathering when he was caught he blamed on Tim;

(He thought about blaming on Dick but he knew Dick would just go along with it)

Everytime Dick, Barbara and Bruce call him he answers with "He's dead";

Introduced Tim to the Outlaws with "That's Robin they found him on the thrash"

Showed up to Barbara's job dropped a "Hi mom" as a greeting then proceeded to laugh his ass off while Barbara tried o explain to her coworkers that that tank of a man wasn't her child;

Told Dick Talia adopted him;

Told Talia Dick adopted him;

Told Damian that if Batman dies he's going to adopt him out of spite;

#jason todd #q asks #I loved this one #the gay and the poly one was so fucking funny

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brucewaynehater101 · 28 days

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your posts about Tim being the parent in his time with Bruce+ Richard's parentification + Tim always planning of being a placeholder, got me thinking

What if Tim started off like that, playing parent for Bruce, ensuring he doesn't cross any lines or overworks himself

And just never stop?

His civilian life is starting to crack, and he's doing worse than he could be, but Batman has to be taken care off

In comes Jason who tries to kill him (great another Bruce) so his workload is doubled, and also Damian who has to be untaught murder

Well it's an escalation of what he's used to, but if he can deal with Batman, he can deal with his kids, time to bust out the books on therapy and deprogramming cult teachings

Besides, he's a placeholding for the two of them until they're better like Batman, so who better to teach them the ropes than him?

Let's toss in comments here and there that will clear misunderstandings between the Bats (excluding himself— he's temporary) and what about their interactions keeps the family apart

Like boy is neglecting himself to high hell, only stopping when it's literally impossible, and barely has a civilian life, but it's worth it for Gotham's betterment and the Batfamily's stabilization

Timestream? Well shit, he has to get Bruce back as per his job of keeping the family in order but the family is either not getting better or worse,

Let him just leave a bunch of personalized self-help guides and programmed schedules that'll ensure the bats are getting better while he's away

Oh hey Ra's, midn if I secretly learn everything about how Damian grew up in this fine League of yours so I can teach Damian what is so wrong about his childhood once I'm home?

So everything is getting better post BruceQuest, Richard can be a brother more (because Tim took on his job as parent-brother), Damian and his family are able to bond and understand each other (because Tim untaught an awful upbringing) and Jason feels like a member of the family (because Tim got Jason up to speed with how much he has always been loved) plus Bruce gets to be a father with his kids (because Tim kept the man out of his otherside inevitable self-made grave)

And say Batfamily, in a miracle of communication, realize that Tim has subsumed Bruce's role as caretaker and father

Not to the entire family of course, but even parenting for one sibling or parent as a kid yourself is one too many

And they remember all the comments Tim said to help the family get better subtly suggesting everybody but Tim is family

Like he's said "Your family," never "Our"

He says "You're a Wayne, a member of their family,"

He has to be referred to as Tim and Drake, never Wayne to catch his attention

And also imagine Richard saying "You can't keep being a parent to your brothers and father" and Tim going "glass houses, *tires to parent Rich*"

"NO—"

The shit storm that would happen if the batfamily realized that Tim donned Robin with the intention of always playing parent for Bruce, and then leaving once his intervention isn't need anymore

Yes! I absolutely love the ideas you incorporated with this. I didn't manage to hit all of them in my post, but I tried to expand upon them a bit:

At first, Tim wouldn't realize that's what he's doing. He just wants to help Bruce (even if that includes taking away the Batmobile keys, locking him out of the batcomputer, and using a rewards system when the man successfully takes care of his wounds).

Tim only comes to the realization that he's Bruce's parent when the YJ are being lectured by their mentors. At this point, the team has done far more dangerous stunts and missions than whatever the JL was lecturing them about. When the mentors come, Robin allows Batman to lecture him in front of the others. Tim knows they have to keep up appearances and can listen to a hypocritical discussion from Bruce to maintain the image of Batman Tim has spent so much time propping up.

After the other mentors leave, Tim pulls Batman into a private room for a chat. Bart, fearing that Robin is getting a second lecture, almost bursts in to save Tim. He's slowed down by the glare Tim sends his way. He's stopped by the conversation he overhears.

Tim, with his hands on his hips as he glares up into the cowl, lectures Bruce on all the behavior issues the man displayed the month that the YJ were away.

Bruce is just standing there, head slightly hung, as Tim goes on.

"This is why I feel I can never get away, B. I can't even leave you for a month before your excessive force statistics skyrocket! What am I supposed to do with you?"

Bart quickly leaves as he has a mental breakdown at this discovery. Two hours later, when Batman leaves, Bart asks Robin if he's Batman's father. Tim laughs it off at first, but after Bart lays out the evidence, Tim spirals for a few days at this discovery.

Once Tim accepts that he *is* like Bruce's dad, he decides to just embrace it. He and Alfred can share custody of the man-child (and this is also why Tim has the view of family that he does. His three examples of being a father are his own dad who constantly leaves, Alfred who maintains a professional distance, and Bruce who's his grieving son). Tim sees Dick as his brother, but he sees Bruce as his kid. It's confusing as hell, complicated, and Tim also doesn't see himself as part of the family at the same time.

While the teen is finally settling into his role as Bruce's parent, Jason comes back and tries to kill him. He doesn't know whether or not to laugh that Jason becomes his new responsibility at the same place Bruce officially (in Tim's mind) became Tim's.

The teen treats Jason similar to a grandson and son. He parents Bruce on how to interact with Jason, takes a few college classes and reads a few textbooks on PTSD, and interrogates LoA agents on the Pit. He slowly starts to feed them both phrases and perspectives so that they understand and interact with each other better. He almost wants to hit them both upside the head for their miscommunication.

It's not great, and Tim is so fucking tired, but they are getting closer to being a family. Tim can almost taste his retirement.

Then Damian comes into the family and tries to kill him. Tim wants to scream.

Damian isn't exactly friendly to Tim, but the teen spots a breakthrough when he catches how Dick and Damian interact. He, in what he later calls foolishly, drops some of the weight onto Dick's shoulders. Tim's tired trying to wrangle both Jason and Bruce into somewhat, even unhealthily, communicating with each other.

Then Bruce dies. It's unfair because Tim has lost someone who's both his son and his father to him. No one except Cassie could know about the amount of grief Tim is under because of that. Cassie, who Tim isn't talking to after the whole basement scientist cloning thing.

So, Tim finds evidence that Bruce is alive. He watches as Dick cracks under the weight of Batman and being a father to Damian. He's hurt (oh gods does it burn to lose his self-made but suffocating role that ties him to Bruce), but he understands why Dick gives Damian Robin.

Tim leaves, and he starts to discover himself. He became an adoptive father at thirteen. For once, even though he's heavily lost in the thralls of grief, he's free of that responsibility. He only has to take care of himself (an exhausting task he's never quite accomplished before) and he doesn't rely on anyone.

Still, despite his freedom, he sees Ra's offer for what it is. It's an opportunity to learn more about Damian. Bruce will need Tim's support when he returns, after all. If he takes down Ra's both for himself and Damian, that's neither here nor there.

When Bruce finally returns home, Tim starts to see his retirement again. He sees the progress he's enacting out of the family in all of their relationships. Like Tim's messy relationship with Bruce, Dick is both a father and brother to Damian. Jason and Bruce will occasionally meet at a diner. Damian and Bruce will have father-child outings outside of Batman and Robin. Cass returns home more often. Steph barges into the Manor for food or bugs different Bats on patrol. Babs is able to take time for herself outside of wrangling the Bats together. Duke is starting to join the family, but Tim doesn't imagine too much tension or difficulty with that transition. They'll be fine without him.

It's looking up. Tim can leave behind his the Wayne family.

Then Damian points out how Tim often uses "your" or "their" instead of "our" family.

Godsdamnit.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #thank you for the ask!!!!#your ask has so many good ideas thank you!

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