#and his importance to Tim and replacing him with Jason

[umbrellajam]

Tim: When Gotham needed him, he was there. When the Batman needed him, he was there. He was a hero. Tim: But he was nothing special, really. Just a boy, who was taught--trained--brought to his full potential by someone who knew how. Tim: Just a boy…like me. Tim: I can do it. I know I can. One day I'll be as good as Jason. One day I'll wear the suit. One day I'll be a hero. - Detective Comics #618

no, Tim didn't admire Jason's Robin because he was better, warmer, more compassionate, more connected to the little people, more "magic" etc. etc. than Dick's Robin

he admired Jason for being a regular-ass kid who stepped into Dick's shoes and tried to fill them because Gotham and Batman needed Robin - a nigh impossible task because Dick was and is the best, as far as Tim was concerned, but Jason did it anyway.

very relatable! for a normal kid who daydreamed about being Robin! and didn't think he could ever live up to ✨Dick Grayson!✨ but was determined to do it anyway because he felt he had to, and no one else would!

[dc-gotham-instincts-wild]

Headcanon that Jason just kidnaps his siblings instead of asking them to hang out sometimes.

Sometimes he does the normal abduction thing and other times he has his methods.

Dick: Jason sneaks into Dick’s apartment in Blüdhaven at 3 AM, throws him over his shoulder, and drags him to his motorcycle. Dick wakes up mid-ride, half-conscious, groggily mumbling, "Jay, what the hell—?"

- Jason just shushes him and tosses a burger into his lap. "Shut up and eat, Goldie. We're bonding." (Jason, allowing his big brother to ruffle his hair? Nooooo, absolutely not...)

Tim: Jason straight-up drugs him asleep him when Tim refuses to take a break. He wakes up in Jason’s apartment with a cup of coffee and a sandwich waiting for him, while Jason sits on the couch reading a book.

- “You looked dead on your feet, Replacement. Either you napped willingly or I made you. Guess which one you picked.” (Jason totally doesn't rake a hand over his lil bro's hair during this time)

Steph: Jason knows Steph is a wild card when it comes to hanging out, so he has to be a little sneakier with her. He'd show up at her place unannounced, pretending to just be casually passing by, and in one smooth motion, he'd grab her and yank his little sister into his car or bike before she even realizes what's happening. (He totally doesn't do this in time with hard school, noooo)

Damian: Jason scoops him up mid-battle and just walks away with him. Damian kicks, bites, and yells, "UNHAND ME, TODD!" but Jason holds him like an angry kitten.

- They end up at a rooftop picnic with Alfred’s homemade food. Damian eventually eats while grumbling about Jason's “barbaric methods” but secretly enjoys the attention. (Jason maaayybe ruffles his hair a lot.)

Cass: She just lets it happen. Jason shows up, gestures toward his bike, and Cass just hops on without a word. They go on long road trips in comfortable silence, getting ice cream at 2 AM and scaring off criminals for fun. (Jason totally doesn't take the time to help her with her speech-)

Duke: Duke gets fake-napped. Jason tells him, "Be outside in five minutes," and when Duke says no, Jason still shows up, grabs him, and hauls him into a car.

- Duke just sighs and texts Bruce: "Jason's 'kidnapping' me again. Back later." (Jason totally doesn't get the names of school bullies from him and uses them, noooooooo)

Bruce knows this happens. He just sighs and lets it happen because, honestly? It’s Jason’s way of showing love. And at least the kids are getting along.

Jason kidnaps his siblings because it's his way of saying, "You're important to me, and I'm gonna drag you into ridiculous situations whether you like it or not."

He also, however, does it to Bruce.

In fact, it might be one of his favorite things to do, just because Bruce is always so serious and “responsible.”

Jason thinks it’s hilarious to force Bruce to take a break. He just shows up at the Batcave, probably with some kind of overly complicated plan to "kidnap" Bruce without him realizing.

Step 1: Jason would distract Alfred with a "Oh, just a quick check-in, you know, 'cause it’s been a while.’"

Step 2: He would wait for Bruce to get fully immersed in some case files and then sneak up behind him, tap him on the shoulder, and when Bruce turns around, Jason’s already got him in a headlock, pulling him out of the chair like, "Get up, old man. We're going to a diner. No arguments."

Bruce would protest, of course. He'd probably try to get out of it with his usual grumpy “I’m too busy” routine. Jason might fake-sigh and act like he's just trying to help Bruce loosen up, reminding him, "I know you think you’re invincible, but you still need to eat, Batman."

And if Bruce insists on not going, Jason would just drag him anyway. He might even grab the Batmobile for a joyride (he's always wanted to), making Bruce sit shotgun while Jason drives like an absolute maniac (Jokes on both because Bruce taught him to drive-)

Bruce would probably be scowling the whole time, but Jason would know his dad is secretly enjoying it, even if he won't admit it.

Eventually, Bruce would probably give in and get his grumpy little “dad” lecture—“You’re so reckless, Jason—” but Jason would just smile and be like, "Whatever. You’re welcome.”

Jason totally doesn't like it when his dad just ruffles his hair at some point.

[imheretoreadafic]

I think about a very important part of Bruce’s dynamic with all his gaggle of adopted children is he doesn't care if they see him as their father. They're his children.

Barbara and Steph don't see him as their father. But those are Bruce’s daughters, and he'll take care of them.

Tim and Dick didn't see him as a dad for a good while after their parents' deaths because they were grieving and didn't want to replace them. Bruce saw them as his sons even when they couldn't see him as their dad, and he saw them as his sons when they could.

Duke still has a father and mother, even if they're lost at the moment. Bruce is NOT his father. He has a father, and he's going to get better if Duke has anything to say about it, goddammit. That's Bruce’s baby and he'll protect him no matter what.

Jason can scream from the rooftops that Bruce isn't his father, and Bruce might even agree with him verbally in a fit of anger. But that's his son, that's his baby. And he'll protect him.

I truly believe that Bruce's love is unconditional. He doesn't expect his children to see him as a father, and he doesn't want them to feel like they have to leave behind their real parents. But those are his children, even if he's not their father.

[rosemaryhoney27]

“A Perfect Little Monster”

Vlad had never felt so betrayed by reality.

The Batcave was filled with quiet whispers and sideways glances, the occasional crunch of a chip from Jason, and the warm hum of expensive tech. Alfred had politely handed Vlad a cup of tea and, without saying a word, patted his shoulder like someone offering condolences at a funeral.

Because Danny was being an angel.

Like, golden halo, angelic choir, glowing with good intentions level of perfect.

He sat politely on one of the chairs, legs crossed, posture perfect, sipping tea like it hadn’t taken Vlad a full month to get him to use a spoon correctly. He was even wearing clean clothes. A neat black hoodie, pressed jeans, no rips, no slime stains, no ectoplasm glowing through the sleeves. His hair was only slightly messy. He even said “thank you” when Alfred gave him cookies.

“Uncle Vlad,” Danny said sweetly, “you really didn’t have to make this whole visit sound so dramatic. You’ve been amazing.”

Vlad stared. “...What.”

Jason leaned in, squinting at Danny. “You sure you’re related to him? Like, at all?”

Danny laughed—actually laughed—like a normal, well-adjusted teenager. “Vlad’s always so dramatic. He says I ‘gnaw’ on furniture. I was literally looking for my sock.”

“It was in your mouth,” Vlad said in a strangled whisper.

“Because my hands were full,” Danny said reasonably. “I was holding the cat.”

Steph covered her mouth to stop the snort. “Oh my god, he’s adorable.”

Cass nodded slowly. “Too adorable.”

“Like a trap,” Tim added. “A very suspicious trap.”

“He is not like this,” Vlad hissed at Bruce, who was standing there with his arms crossed and the world’s most dad-like raised eyebrow.

“Sure he’s not,” Bruce said. “Just like Dick didn’t do a triple somersault off the Wayne gala chandelier when he was ten.”

Danny blinked. “Wait. You can do that?”

Dick: “We’re gonna be best friends.”

Vlad clutched his tea with trembling hands. “You don’t understand. This child once replaced my shampoo with green slime and told the press I was undergoing ‘ecto-regeneration therapy.’”

“Self-care is important,” Danny said serenely. “I was looking out for your brand.”

“He tackled a diplomat,” Vlad hissed, turning to Alfred like a man begging for someone to see reason. “An actual royal dignitary. Bit him on the calf.”

“The guy was slime trafficking and had a ghost locked in a bottle,” Danny said with that same innocent tone. “You should’ve seen Bruce’s Interpol file. I was lightweight compared to some of the stuff he’s pulled.”

Bruce’s eyebrow ticked upward in reluctant respect. “He did his homework.”

Jason leaned toward Vlad. “You sure you’re not the problem here, Uncle Vladdie?”

Vlad sputtered. “I—what?!”

Danny gave a dazzling smile. “He’s just overprotective. Isn’t he sweet?”

Vlad turned to Bruce. “Do you see what I’m dealing with?”

Bruce just nodded. “A perfectly polite teenager. Very respectful. You’re lucky.”

Danny turned that angelic beam on him. “Thanks, Mr. Wayne. I’ve been working on it.”

And no one saw the green glow under his sleeve when Tim tried to peek at his phone. Or the way the shadows around the corners of the cave flickered when Damian casually mentioned sword sparring.

Cass was watching, quiet and calm, and murmured, “He hides the wild. Like Jason.”

Jason grinned. “I like this kid.”

Dick put an arm around Danny’s shoulder. “Welcome to the chaos, baby cousin.”

Danny blinked. “Wait. You mean I’m actually—”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, man. Vlad’s your guardian. He’s Bruce’s cousin. That makes you family now.”

Danny looked mildly horrified. “...Do I have to fill out paperwork?”

Damian crossed his arms. “The League does blood rituals. Consider yourself lucky.”

Vlad, in the background, had given up on convincing anyone of anything. He just sipped his tea, mumbling, “I told Clockwork this would happen. Should’ve gone with the fruit basket instead.”

Danny was already being dragged into a group selfie by Steph and Dick. He looked a little dazed, but not unhappy.

“You’ll get used to it,” Jason said, handing him a cookie. “First comes the chaos. Then the trauma bonding. Then you start collecting knives.”

Danny took the cookie.

“…Do the knives have names?”

“Oh, you’re gonna fit right in,” said Damian, eyes gleaming.

Bruce sighed. Loudly. “No naming knives in the Cave.”

Danny smiled like he hadn’t just been handed the keys to the Feral Kingdom. “Sure thing, Mr. Wayne.”

Cass whispered to Vlad, “He’ll show them the teeth later. When they trust him.”

And Vlad, with the tiredness of a man who raised chaos and now had to watch it become socially strategic, simply whispered, “He already has.”

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake Accidentally Takes Over the World (and Didn’t Think to Mention It)

So, Janet somehow spent decades climbing her way into every government worth a damn, ruling the entire world from behind the scenes. And then, because the universe is apparently wild, she left it all to Tim.

Cut to Tim Drake, the brand-new, completely reluctant secret ruler of the entire planet. And he just… never really thought it was worth mentioning?

The Batfam finds out when Bruce stumbles across an encrypted memo traced to a mysterious Gotham office with Tim’s name on it.

Bruce, holding up the memo: “Tim. Want to explain why this document about, oh, international finance reforms is signed with your encryption key?”

Tim, not even looking up from his laptop: “Oh, yeah. That. Janet left me her ‘global influence portfolio’ or whatever. Mostly paperwork.”

The Batfam stares in total shock.

Dick sputters nearly dropping his coffee: "Wait—you’ve been managing world policies?!”

Tim, shrugging, barely paying attention as he emails the president of Germany: “Well, yeah. I figured someone had to keep things running. It's not that big a deal. I mostly just redirect some policies. You know, keep things running smoothly.”

Jason, absolutely cackling: “Are you telling me that little Replacement here is the reason for half the ‘global cooperation’ headlines?”

Tim, scrolling through emails: “They send me reports; I send suggestions. And honestly, they make it way more dramatic than it is. It's not that hard."

Barbara stares at him, half horrified, half impressed. “How did we not notice this?”

Tim blinks. “I mean, it’s not like I was actively hiding it. I assumed you guys knew I was… kind of managing these things?”

Cue utter disbelief.

Stephanie, laughing too hard to breathe: “Tim, do you have world leaders on speed dial?”

Tim, completely unfazed: “Only the important ones. They text, mostly. Oh—by the way, I might’ve influenced a minor arms control thing last week. Don’t worry; it’s all sorted.”

Bruce, looking like he’s two seconds from fainting: “Sorted? Tim, we're talking about you having global authority here. People notice these things."

Tim shrugs again as his phone buzzes with notifications. “Sure, but it’s not like they’re going to do anything too crazy. I just suggest stuff, and they listen. Honestly, it’s like herding really powerful, really overdramatic cats.”

Damian, scandalized: “You mean to tell me, Drake, that you’re manipulating world politics like it’s a game of checkers?”

Tim, still casual: “Manipulating’s a strong word. Like I said, it’s more just nudging things along.” His phone buzzes again. “Oh, hang on. France is panicking about their energy policy again.”

The Batfam tries to process the fact that Tim—Tim, who routinely forgets what day it is—is now, somehow, running the world.

And then his phone buzzes with a message from the UN Security Council.

Tim sighs, glancing down. “Oh, great. Looks like they’re debating nuclear arms again. Be right back.”

Meanwhile, the Batfam is left absolutely speechless, processing the fact that their Tim—scrawny, coffee-fueled Tim—is apparently one of the most powerful people on the planet. And to him its just another tuesday.

[redflagshipwriter]

Chef Beef part 1 of 2

inspired by this post.

Part 2

Jason squinted at his laptop screen. It turned into a confused scowl. “What,” he said, “the hell are they saying?”

Perturbed, he slammed the thing shut. Whatever! He didn’t need validation from viewers. He turned to finish cleaning up his kitchen. He had scrubbed everything down on camera, but the dishes still needed to be put away and he had to shut his kitchen for the night.

His nighttime phone pinged. It wasn’t the Bat business one, at least. He hesitated. 

Fuck. It probably wasn’t important. But what if it was, though?

Jason heaved a massive, dramatic sigh. He put the mixing bowl back and then dug the phone out to check. It was just the stupid intergenerational Titans group chat. The first message flicked away before he could read it, replaced by a series of fire emojis and a…drooling face? Yuck. Superboy was a lot. 

Jason screwed his face up in disgust and dismissed the notification without reading. Tim’s grungy little friends continued to be off-putting gremlins.

Kori chimed in with a series of hearts and flexing arm emojis. 

Yeah, okay, the topic definitely wasn’t important. Goddamn social media. He just didn’t get it.

He didn’t check the video comments again until the next day, curled up in an armchair stolen from Wayne Manor. It was vigilante morning, also known as noon. He tucked his feet into the seam where the cushion met the back of the chair and took a long sip of steaming tea. Thus fortified, he typed in his password and loaded up the video he had done yesterday.

“...Huh.” He opened up his phone to do a quick search on what it meant to go live. Jason ran a hand through his hair and thought it over.

The top comments were begging him to livestream, not post after he was done. That seemed… Well, it seemed social. He pursed his lips and stalled for thinking time with more tea. Part of the reason he was doing this was to motivate himself to cook more, but putting it online, he had to admit, could only stem from a desire for some sort of attention and connection.

Ew. Jason put that bit of self reflection somewhere far away where it couldn’t hurt him, and started thinking about how to change his setup. 

“One week,” he told himself. “I’ll do that for a week and see how I feel about it.” 

Monday

12:07PM

Jason set up a laptop on the counter so he could see any comments while he streamed. 

“Not that I’ll get comments.” He wasn’t doing anything that special. Embarrassed even alone, Jason got busy setting up. Ingredients in place and oven preheated, he started the livestream. 

He waited. 

Then he felt stupid. Probably no one was going to come. So he pulled over his cutting board and held up his first ingredient. “I,” he said to no one, “am going to make the best quiche you sorry motherfuckers have ever seen.” He pointedly twirled the cutting board and glanced back at the screen just in time to see notifications that people were joining. 

“I’m making a quiche now,” Jason reiterated. “Best goddamn thing you’ll see all day, so make a note.” 

He blinked. “Can I crush the onion in my hand?” He repeated, brow furrowing at the screen. “It would be unusable, Caitlin15.” He hefted the onion. “This beautiful motherfucker needs to be diced into perfect pieces.” 

Perplexingly, that didn’t stop it. More viewers chimed in. “Uhh,” Jason said. Was this some kind of streaming social norm? “…I only have one onion. I can crush this instead?” He reached over and pulled out a carrot from the basket on the far end of the counter. 

The screen erupted in all caps. He squinted. Did it have meaning? It looked like gibberish.

“Seems like a yes.” Well. Whatever. Jason crushed the carrot to a mush in his hand, catching the end that fell. He let the mush fall into the bowl he had meant for the onion. Thoughtlessly, he snapped off a bit of the carrot with his teeth and braced a forearm on the counter in front of the camera. “You gonna behave now?” He asked the stream, making sure to level an unimpressed expression to his viewers. “Sit the fuck down and listen.”

The screen erupted with ear emojis and weird dramatic shit like, “I am seated, King. 👑” Someone purchased a … sticker? What the hell? What was the point of that?

…Alright. He picked up the carrot mash bowl and considered it. “Might be making a carrot cake or bread later,” he said. “I can’t stand waste.” He shifted it out of the way and stretched up to get a new bowl from the storage up high. When he looked back down he saw there was a flurry of “six pack alert” messages and more notifications of people buying ‘stickers.’

He wheeled around to see what they must have– behind him was a collection of bottles. They were not alcohol.

“I don’t drink!” Jason snarled. “My body is a goddamn temple. No fuckin beer here.” He leveled a finger at the screen. 

That first stream went alright. He got a lot of subscriptions off of it, which probably at least meant that some people liked it. Jason closed his laptop with the vague impression that things were going to be alright. 

He was washing up when someone knocked on the door. Jason shook his hands twice to flick off water and then dried them with the hand towel. He threw it over his shoulder on the way to open the door. “Dick.” He opened the door, one eyebrow raised. “Everything alright?”

Dick pushed his way in, wearing his beat cop uniform. He had his pretty boy smile on, but Jason saw right through that. That fucker wanted money. “Hey, Jay!” He sniffed his way to the kitchen. “I, uh, heard you have a cooking thing going on, how’s that going?” 

Hm. Alright, maybe he wanted free food, the goddamn hyena.

“How do you know this shit?” He wondered fondly. “Creep.” 

Dick grimaced and put a hand to his head. “Roy showed me.” Dick sounded like he was in pain. Fair enough. That was a reasonable reaction to Roy Harper.

Jason closed the door and watched his sort-of-brother scavenge around the apartment. “Want some quiche?” He cast his thoughts back. “Oh, I have carrot bread.”

Dick gave him a slightly harried smile. “Oh, I heard about that. Crushing the carrot made an impression.” 

Jason blinked.

They looked at each other. 

“Are you watching my streams?” Jason asked slowly. “Hey, I’ve been getting a lot of slang in the comments I don’t know.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the list he had compiled. “People keep commenting ATE, in all caps. But I’m not eating.”

Dick stared off into the air mournfully. “It… It means you’re doing a great job. It’s not about food.”

Jason nodded. “Noted,” he murmured to himself. “Uh, raw?” He tried to make eye contact. “People send me that, also in all caps. But obviously I am cooking my goddamn food, that is the whole premise.”

Dick screwed up his face in pain and stuffed half a roll into his mouth to avoid answering. “Buddy,” he said through a mouthful of food, “I don’t want to tell you the details. But your watchers think you’re hot. That’s the gist of it.”

Jason stared at him. “...They think I’m hot,” he echoed slowly. “I am hanging out in my pajamas and cooking. I am being sloppy and rude. I call them names,” he pointed out.

Dick’s face twitched. “Yeah, some of them are into that. But also your whole…” He gestured vaguely up and down Jason’s body. “The t-shirt and sweats work for you.” He looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. “I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re comfortable and safe. Having fans is kinda a lot sometimes.”

Jason snorted. “It’s not like I’m modeling like you or Kori did,” he pointed out. 

“It’s not that dissimilar.” Dick rolled his neck. “Lemme see your account?”

Jason hesitated. “Why?”

“I bet you’ve gotten sponsor messages.” 

He snorted. “Yeah right.” He handed the phone over and watched over Dick’s shoulder. “…Didn’t know there were messages on this app.” His eyebrows crawled upward. “These people want to give me money?” 

“You need a manager,” Dick said promptly. “And a moderator to crack down on the horny comments.”

Jason physically recoiled. 

“That’s what I thought,” Dick said wryly. “I can get you a mod for free. I’ll manage your account for a modest 50% of your profit.” 

“Bullshit,” said Jason, despite thinking he’d make no money. “That can’t be the going rate for a manager. Fuck you. I’m going to ask Kory what she pays her manager.” He snatched back his phone and DMd her his question. “And why would anyone mod for free?” 

“A loser would do it,” said Dick. “And I know just the motivated loser. Anyway, how would you feel about doing a separate livestream where you eat?” He stuffed quiche in his mouth and talked around it. “Lonely people like that, they pretend they’re having a meal together. It’s a public service, Jaybird.” 

“Who on this goddamn earth would want to pretend they were eating with me?” Jason wondered. 

Dick eyed him. “Who indeed.” He sniffed. “I’ll do it for 30%, if you are gonna be so cold about it. I’m not in it for the money, I’m your brother,” he wheedled. 

“Your shitty cop job doesn’t pay for your lunches,” Jason said flatly. “Go get money from Bruce.” 

“Never.” Dick shoved the last of the quiche in his mouth so violently he actually choked. “Gotta go. I have your passwords now, I’ll set up sponsorships and pay out your stickers.” 

“Pay out what?” Jason asked, bemused. 

“My break is 30 minutes,” Dick hollered over his shoulder. “Gotta get back to 3rd in the next 4 seconds.”

“…You are a mess.” Jason watched Dick whirlwind out of his apartment less than five minutes after entering to steal his food and money he didn’t even know he had. “You’re gonna be at least ten minutes late.” 

“It’s fine, I’m ungovernable.” His footsteps thumped rapidly down the apartment stairs. A car tire screeched outside. A police siren started up and rapidly faded. 

Jason sighed. “Dinner with lonely people, huh?” He eyed his apartment. “I guess I could set up the table there…”

Tuesday 

12:51PM

“Good morning,” Jason greeted the camera. “Yeah,  yeah, it’s one pm. I just got up, so sue me.” He took a pointed sip of his morning drink. It was coffee this time. “I,” he said pointedly, “had a long night. And I need some comfort. So we are starting the day with cinnamon rolls.” He gestured to his oven. “I already have the first batch cooked and cooled, so you can see me ice it and eat.” He rolled his shoulders. “First, this bowl is going to be for my wet ingredients-” He blinked. “I don’t need a new bowl. I- why do you hate this bowl?” He tilted it, perplexed. “Do you all— okay, look, I’ll show you all my bowls and you will acknowledge the superiority of this particular bowl for this task.” Shaking his head, he extended up as far as he could reach to get the rest of the bowls down.

“...I still do not drink,” Jason scowled. He felt confused and vaguely uncomfortable. “Stop saying that, I don’t like it.” 

The chat listened, so whatever. He whipped up this batch of cinnamon rolls, set it to proof, and then got out his finished rolls to show the screen. “We need to make the frosting for these, but I am excited.” He let his voice rasp. “It’s gonna be way more than I can eat, but…” He shrugged. “Hey, meat? Why are you sending meat emojis– I can do you a good meaty dish tomorrow. Roast?” He brainstormed. “Steak, maybe, oh hell yeah, HawaiiHunk,  I could use some meat in me too,” he agreed. “Tomorrow, yup, you and me.” 

He cleared his throat and set out his supplies. “But first, let’s get that frosting.”

20 minutes later, once he had licked the frosting off his spoon, Jason showed a single perfect roll to the camera. “I’m going to sign off and have my breakfast now,” he said. Someone called GOATman said, “good job, it looks delicious.” He flashed them a smile.

“And then I guess I gotta find someone to shovel off my spare rolls to. Wish me luck.” He turned the stream off without checking what they were actually saying.

Wednesday

5:00 am

“Jason.” 

He stifled a shriek. “You’re an asshole.” Jason swore. He threw the shower curtain aside violently to glare at Tim. “I’m getting ready for bed, you little shit. You still follow my patrols?”

Tim stared at him with big, resentful eyes. There were bruises under both of them. “I heard you made cinnamon rolls. Heard a lot about that. Something about a carrot, too.”

“...Yeah.” Jason frowned at him. What a weird thing to say. “Did you get a concussion?”

“Put your clothes on,” Tim groused. He pushed himself off the counter and sauntered out of the room, as if he wasn’t the weirdo who had snuck into Jason’s home after patrol, followed him into the bathroom, and waited there.

Jason pulled on a t-shirt and shorts and made his way out to see Tim’s baleful stare. “What,” he said gently, “the fuck?” He made a shoo gesture. “I didn’t say I was open to strays.”

“Should I tell Kon that he isn’t getting any of your cinnamon rolls or quiche?” Tim said waspishly.

Jason reeled a bit. Kon? Leather jacket Superboy? The hell did he have to do with anything?

There was a more salient point to address.

‘Why does he know what I’ve been cooking?’

Jason pointed at him. “You’re creeping on me again. Do you have an alert set for anytime I send a text?” He sneered. “And yeah, I am not cooking for you or your friends. Besides, the quiche is gone.”

Tim let out a violent huff. “I wish I heard less about you.” He waved a hand. “But, yeah, Kon can give up any hope?”

“What,” said Jason, “the Hell are you talking about?” He frowned. “Hope for what? Does he wanna learn to cook or something?” 

He momentarily considered that. Kon was a C list celebrity. That was exactly the type of guy you might invite as a guest to your livestream.

Tim eyed him. Jason stared back. “Nothing.” Tim rolled his eyes. “To be very clear, you would never for a moment consider Kon as-”

“I never think about the guy,” Jason cut him off. “He’s a nice guy, does good work. But you’re being so fuckin weird. Take the plate of cinnamon rolls over there and get the fuck out of my house.”

Once Tim had been shoved out the door, Jason went to bed. He woke up again at 1 in the afternoon and started to set up for his next live stream.

That was a lie.

He intended to wake up at 1. Instead, he sat up from a dead sleep at 10:32 am when Dick banged on his door, dragging along his dumb cop partner and an armful of shitty coffees.

“I hate you,” Jason croaked. He wiped the protein from his eyes and snatched a drink.

“Everyone does,” commented the other cop.

Dick snorted a laugh, but both of them looked at her. “Why are you here, pig?” Jason asked pointedly.

She sniffled. “Oink, oink,” she said pointedly, and stole a cinnamon roll off the counter. “Because prettyboy is taking a break from ending the corruption of the Bludhaven cops in order to benefit from the corruption of the Bludhaven cops by selling access to his shitty little brother online.” She peeled the cinnamon roll open.

Dick pointed at her. “Amy, you said you’d be nice to me.”

She took a very large bite of her cinnamon roll and flipped him off with a smile.

“...Fair enough,” Jason said, and turned his tired glare at his shitty elder brother. “Why are you even up this early, I swear you were up as late as I was.” 

Dick hefted his ass onto Jason’s clean countertop and ignored the strangled sound he made. “I have an intricate system of micro naps at traffic stops and unimportant meetings. I can get by on as little as two hours of sleep at night.”

“What happens if you miss one?” Jason asked, darkly curious.

“His whole life falls apart,” Amy said, talking with cinnamon roll in her mouth still. Jason gave her a disgusted look. 

Dick waved that off. “Anyway, did you see that Kory messaged you? She wants to do a collab.” His brilliant smile faltered for a millisecond. “That would get views.” He smiled winsomely.

“...This hurts you,” Jason observed, reluctantly fascinated. “Why are you doing this? You don’t want me to hang out with your ex-fiance.” He cocked his head to the side. “Have you considered telling her that you want her back?”

“I never look back,” Dick lied breezily. “How about Raven? She’s open to a cooking video. Or.” He looked pained. “Kon. He has been messaging. A lot. He’s watching your streams.” 

“...This does seem more Kon’s speed,” said Jason, thinking of all the times he had seen that motherfucker scarf down chilidogs or nachos on camera. “Kind of below Kory, honestly. Raven?” His voice tilted upward in disbelief. “She’s your friend, not mine. Why don’t you do some kind of stream with your friends?” Jason shrugged. “If you like it, I mean.”

“I’m done modeling,” Dick said. “The body shaming really got to me.” He ran a hand up his perfect body and gave a little shrug. 

“That also why you’re done with a career as a world-class athlete?” Amy asked wryly. “Your career trajectory is the garbage can. I know why I’m giving parking tickets for 12 dollars an hour, but it’s just insulting that you’re here. Take your shitty Dad’s money.”

“Never,” Dick vowed. “So, collab with Raven? Great! She’ll be here tomorrow at noon.”

“I will kill you!” Jason shouted, but it was no use. The fucker was already halfway out the door.

Amy toasted him with the remainder of the cinnamon roll. “I’ve been making him buy us all donuts with what he’s making from your streams,” she told him.

Jason thought that over. “I guess you’re alright for a pig.”

She saluted him on her way out.

He managed to get a little more sleep before his stream. “I might have a guest tomorrow,” he told his viewers idly as he set up. “Feel free to guess who. My shitty manager is setting it up.”

Some of the world’s worst guesses rolled down the screen– Amanda Waller, President Luthor, Nightwing. 

Jason accidentally laughed. “No, uh, none of them.” He snickered. “Think younger.” He blinked. “No, probably not you, HawaiiHunk, you goddamn flirt,” Jason shook his head. “You better watch your ass, I think I have a mod today.”

Someone sent the salute emoji. “That you?” Jason squinted. “GOATman– greatest of all time man?” He snickered. “Everyone is on notice.”

The guy was vicious. The first time HawaiiHunk commented “ur sooo sexi babe,” he got a warning. 

A while later the mod said, “This is your final warning.” Jason looked up to see what the poor thirsty idiot had said. He snorted involuntarily when he saw that HawaiiHunk apparently wanted to be the dough. He wanted to see where this was going. 

“Ignore himmmmm,” said Sparklefairy. She somehow sent an explosion of glitter over his stream. Dollar emojis scattered. 

Jason raised an eyebrow and put some muscle into the bread he was kneading. 

‘Are some of them trying to buy my attention?’ he wondered, bemused. ‘Should I tell them I’m an independently wealthy criminal? I feel like I’m tricking them.’

HawaiiHunk typed up, “I’m so wet.” 

Jason stuck his tongue out and then shuddered dramatically. “That’s not my business, I don’t need to know that.” 

“That’s it,” said GOATman, a fantastic mod. “Blocked.” The official notification appeared a moment later.

“Goodbye, HawaiiHunk.” Jason saluted with a laugh. “And let that be a warning to the rest of you.”

GOATman sent the salute emoji and was immediately copied by others in a flood. Jason had to laugh.

That night, before patrol, Jason sat with a frown, scrolling through his comment section. He barely noticed when Spoiler sat her ass down beside him and started doing her inventory check. He did notice when she leaned into his space to see what he was looking at. 

“Dude, what the hell?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. Look at this weird shit people are saying.” He tilted his phone screen. “Raw,” he repeated, disbelievingly. “Raw. My meat is not raw.” 

Stephanie choked on air.  

“I cook all my meat– I cooked it to 65C.” Jason gestured pointedly. 

“What, uh… Are you streaming?” Stephanie looked at him with wild eyes. “So, uh, these are fans?”

He looked at her. “Does it mean something?”

“...Yeah,” she said, after a suspiciously long pause. “It’s slang. They like you.”

“So it’s not about my meat?” Jason clarified.

“It is kind of about your meat.” Stephanie swallowed, hard. “I, uh– I think that we should… We should go. On patrol.” She pushed herself off the ledge and did a flip. “Time to hit the streets.” She flashed him a pretty, toothy smile, and then was gone.

Jason was not an idiot. Stephanie was avoiding telling him something embarrassing. 

Whatever. There was something off about it. He had caught that on his own, even if he didn’t know what. Maybe they were mocking him. The concept sent a sick feeling through his gut. But– she wasn’t a liar. It was overall positive, whatever it was. 

“It’s gonna be some pop culture shit I missed.” He grimaced. He wasn’t that old, but he felt old as balls sometimes. “I don’t need to be cool.” 

That affirmation hanging in the air, he blew out his bangs and then scraped them back so they wouldn’t plaster to his forehead with sweat when he went on patrol. He zipped his jacket closed and swung a leg over his motorcycle. Time to go.

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 8

Jason and Danny leaving Catholic Mass.

Danny: That was sooo long.

Jason: Yeah, Father Henry spoke at length today.

Danny: I know the exodus is important and all, but there was no need for that to last 3 hours. Besides the man is ancient, how does he have that much energy?

Jason: I've been asking myself that for years. Our lead pipe issue here was so bad, the man should be long dead.

Danny: Had? Let me guess, Bruce paid to have them replaced?

Jason: Yup. Speaking of Bruce, want to go to the manor?

Danny: Sure why not?

Jason picked up his phone and called Alfred to pick them up.

Jason: Alfred should be here in five minutes or so.

Danny: Why don't we just fly there? I can carry you with me.

Jason: Kid, last thing I need is for you to be declared the anti-Christ by Father Henry.

Danny: I'm not even a baptized Catholic so...

Jason: What even are you?

Danny: Well I was raised Protestant, but after the whole ghost king thing, I more or less converted to the main religion of the Infinite Realms, called Infini. It's basically the worship of the multiverse itself.

Jason: I was half expecting you to say you were a figure of worship yourself.

Danny: No, the old king made himself a figure of worship. Once I took his place I put a stop to that.

Jason: Damn, I wouldn't have.

Danny: Luckily you're not king.

Jason: I think it's for the best.

Danny: Hmm, what about everyone else? I know Bruce is Reformed Jewish, he's taken all of us to his synagogue.

Jason: Oh, we are very religiously diverse, let me think. Alfred is Anglican/Church of England, Dick and Duke are non-denominational protestants, Tim and Barbara are Agnostic, Steph is an Eclectic Pagan, Cass is Buddhist, and Damian is Muslim. He laughed. Poor Bruce has to keep up with so many holidays.

Danny: Is that why we never do any vigilante stuff on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays?

Jason: Yes, Bruce made that clear to the rouges years ago. Besides they like the days off to make their plans.

Danny: How nice of them?

Jason: One time the Penguin tried to rob a bank on a Saturday and Bruce landed him in the ICU for a month. No one dared brake Batman's "days of rest rule" after that.

Danny: Is that why his nose looks weird?

Jason: No, he was born like that.

Danny: Hmm, follow up question why don't the others join us for mass?

Jason: Father Henry has banned from attending, after they almost burnt the church down.

Danny: They almost burn the church down!?

Jason: Long story, Father Henry has never forgiven them.

Danny: I think Big J might disagree with that.

Jason: Did you just call Jesus "Big J?"

Danny: Yes, and he cheats in Monopoly.

Jason: You've played Monopoly... with Jesus...?

Danny: Yes, it was the Annual Abrahamic Figures Assembly. That game of Monopoly was between Jesus, Abraham, Moses, Ramses, Muhammad, and myself. And Jesus was cheating! He had half the railroads, houses, hotels, and was stealing everyone's money!

Jason: Hold up, Ramses was there?

Danny: Yeah, Moses and Ramses reconciled when they reunited in the afterlife.

Jason: And you attended a gathering of Abrahamic figures?

Danny: Yes.

Jason: ...I sometimes forget you're basically a god.

Danny: Yeah... I sometimes forget that myself. They looked at each other. Oh! Also Mary makes one hell of a challah.

Jason (ruffling Danny's hair): You never stop surprising me kid.

Danny: And I have no plans on stopping.

Jason: Nor would I want you to.

Alfred rolled up in front of them.

Jason: Well Alfred's here, let's go kid.

(Master Post)

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill To Die On

This is most of Chapter 1, cutting before the smut. IT DOES GET SPICY THOUGH. 🌶️⚠️ Some of this has been posted before, but figured I'd give you all one nice big chunk of it!

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The New Year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting to muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough Tim could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason. It was a good time of the year.

His hair really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs.

He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting—a replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim didn’t know if he would. Tim refused to just fill in the space that was left open anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the replacement. The other Robin. The other son.

It was a problem.

Another problem was, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even with the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

-

Clothing was an issue.

Tim had grown. Not much mind, but enough that the shoulders were a little tight and bottoms a little short. Well, the bottoms weren’t a huge matter in that moment. Caroline wanted to go out to a club after all; they could work with a too short skirt. The top though… Caroline adjusted the black strap of the lacy bra. Even with the right padding in, it still didn’t look right.

She chewed on her lower lip, still messily smeared with bright red, as she held another top up against her chest. That wouldn’t do either. Caroline gave the box of old clothing a little kick. Hum. She should paint her toenails.

Focus, Caroline.

It was time to look outside of her box.

Fifteen minutes and a pair of scissors later and one of Alvin’s too large and nondescript red t-shirts had become a drop shoulder crop top. It wasn’t the most amazing fit, but as she dressed it up with the right necklace looped a few times around her throat, a splash of red and leather in the bracelets (cover the scars, they were identifying marks), she figured she could pull off the look—at least for getting sweaty in some dark club.

Ever grateful for quick drying polish, Caroline did a rush job of all her nails and waved them impatiently dry before she did her make up properly. Some contouring, false lashes, the right highlights, step by step Caroline felt herself come alive again until staring back from there mirror was no Tim or Timothy or Alvin—just her.

Just Caroline.

She let out the breath she had been holding.

-

Finding the right club took a little bit. Her old favorite had shut down, apparently. That wasn’t uncommon with the short lifespan of clubs and even less so in Gotham with the money laundering and drug rings that often went with the clubs, but it still sucked. Caroline wanted somewhere that if someone got very handsy on the dance floor there wouldn’t be issue with everything that was carefully and securely tucked away in her underwear. The person might not want all that, which was perfectly fine as long they parted ways amicably.

(And if not, well, one of her bracelets could be shockingly persuasive.)

She tucked her fake ID back away in the hidden pocket of her bra, not minding the bit of a show it gave. Tim would have to make her a new one; she didn’t needed the fake age anymore. Then, with a steadying breath, she entered the thudding music, bright lights, and throng of bodies of the club. It took a moment to adjust to it all. This wasn’t always Caroline’s favorite thing, but they needed to relax already. Any tenser and something was going to snap.

Besides, this is where the boys failed and Caroline thrived; slipping between bodies, flirting, giving enough to capture attention without actually giving anything away. Dealing with a mass of people was a complex game of chess and Caroline very much intended to be the conquering queen.

The bar was the first stop, ordering a fruity martini so that she could sip at the drink and people watch for a time. It was always good to get a feel for things before diving in. It also gave her time to get used to being her again as she fielded a few flirtatious advances which landed her another drink in turn for the first dance of the night with her. She didn’t linger long.

She wasn’t sure what she was in the mood for. Caroline flitted across the dance floor from partner to partner, just letting herself enjoy the thud of the beat and the press of bodies. She always moved on before people could get too invested (or too handsy).

Caroline was on the edge of the floor, slipping away from one dance and looking for the next when a laughing group at a close by table shoved one of their number her way. She took a tentative step back, but didn’t actually need to. The poor sacrificial lamb found his footing rather gracefully.

He ducked his head with a crooked smile that was actually somehow charming. “Sorry about them.”

“Stay on target, Danny!” someone called from the table to cheers and jeers.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Really sorry. Just, ah, I maybe have been talking about how pretty you are and how much I want to dance with you for, like, the last twenty minutes. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if this is rude, but would you like to dance?”

Caroline tilted her head and tried not to smile in too predatory a way. “You’ve been watching me?”

“It’s hard not to, with how you move.”

She laughed at that. This one was so earnest. That was odd for Gotham.

“Once dance,” Caroline said, holding out a hand. “Unless you have the moves and then maybe you’ll get more.”

Danny took the hand and brushed a kiss against it. “One dance, to start.”

-

Despite any doubts that Caroline might have had, Danny knew how to move. She’d lost count of the song they had danced to about the time that Danny’s hand had first slid up her shirt. She rolled her hips, grinding back against Danny’s tight jeans and growing arousal. Danny followed her lead beautifully.

His teeth scrapped lightly against her neck and she threw back her head for him, letting him suck a mark into her skin. She enjoyed the thought of Tim being stuck with a reminder of her night out. (Maybe it would convince him to have some fun of his own.)

Danny’s hand slid down from where it had been cupping a breast, traced over her stomach, and moved to her skirt. Caroline caught it before Danny could do more than slip a few fingertips past the band.

“Sorry,” he murmured into her ear.

“Not that,” Caroline said. She turned her head to press a kiss against the corner of Danny’s mouth, smearing robin red against his tan skin. “Just need to let you know there’s more down there than you might be expecting.”

She held her breath as tightly as she held Danny’s hand. It this went bad, she wanted to be able to act quickly.

Danny’s huff of air sounded amused.

She relaxed her grip slightly.

The hand slipped a little lower.

“To me, any combination of bits is a good combination. I’m up for all sorts of surprises,” Danny assured her. His fingers ran over just the top edge of her underwear, not really touching anything, but applying just enough pressure that she shuddered. “She’ okay to use?”

“Yes. She, her, Caroline.”

“Caroline.” Danny said her name like it was a prayer.

She guided his hand a little lower.

His touch stayed almost teasing and Caroline had to alternate between pressing forward into his hand and grinding backwards against him until Danny pulled them so close together that she could barely move. And fuck, it had been too long for any of them. She half thought that if she put in the effort, or Danny’s hand dipped any lower, that she could manage to come right there on the dance floor.

That was not how she wanted tonight to go.

She ran her hands through Danny’s hair and tilted his head where she wanted it. So that she could nip at his ear lobe. “Tell me you live close.”

“In walking distance.”

[lulu103]

Batboys x Reader

The Batboys and Their Girlfriend with Low Self-Esteem

Richard "Dick" Grayson

Dick is the warmest and most affectionate. For him, self-esteem is built little by little, with patience and a lot of love. From the start, he notices that his girlfriend doesn’t see herself the way she deserves, so he becomes her constant reminder of her worth.

Constant emotional support: He sends her small, sweet messages throughout the day: “I’m thinking of you, you’re amazing,” “Don’t forget how much you’re worth,” or songs he knows lift her spirits. He understands that in moments of insecurity, a kind word can change everything.

The power of touch: When she feels insecure, Dick offers a warm, sincere hug. For him, physical contact is a love language that can heal internal wounds. “To me, you are perfect just as you are. You don’t need to change anything for me to love you.”

Activities to reconnect: He invites her to go dancing or do activities that connect them to their bodies and movement. He believes feeling the body in motion helps her love herself more.

Sharing his vulnerabilities: At night, when anxiety or doubts appear, Dick doesn’t hide his own insecurities. He tells her how he has also felt insecure many times and how, little by little, he learned to love himself. This makes her feel less alone and more understood.

Self-acceptance exercises: Sometimes he suggests looking in the mirror together and repeating positive affirmations. It may feel awkward at first, but little by little it becomes a ritual that helps change how she sees herself.

Jason Todd

Jason is more direct and can sometimes seem rough, but deep down, he wants what’s best for her and protects her fiercely.

Honesty and firmness: He doesn’t sugarcoat things but is always honest. When he sees her doubt herself, he challenges her to face those insecurities. “You’re not less because of what you think. If you fall, I’ll be there to lift you up, but first, you have to try.”

Showing love through actions: More than words, Jason shows his love with deeds. He leaves her notes with motivating phrases or surprises her with little gestures to remind her she’s important to him. “This isn’t because you’re perfect, it’s because you matter to me.”

Support during tough times: When she feels bad, Jason doesn’t judge or minimize her feelings. He hugs her and softly says, “You’re not less for feeling this way, but don’t let that define you.”

Small challenges: He encourages her to step out of her comfort zone, always with his support, to face her fears and build confidence. If she fails, he’s there to remind her that trying is already a victory. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be yourself, and that’s already enough.”

Showing pride: Jason never misses a chance to say in public how proud he is of her, which makes her feel valued and real.

Timothy Drake

Tim is the most rational and analytical, and he uses that to help her understand and manage her negative thoughts.

Challenging toxic thoughts: He explains that insecurities are just thoughts, not facts. Together they work on exercises to replace them with kinder, more realistic ideas.

Journaling and reflection: He encourages her to write in a journal about her emotions, achievements, and things she’s grateful for so she can gradually see the good in herself and in life.

Lists of qualities: Together they make lists of all her virtues, from obvious to small ones, and place them where she can see them when she feels insecure.

Confidence-building activities: He suggests challenges like public speaking or sports, always accompanying and supporting her to boost her confidence.

Intellectual support: He gives her books, podcasts, or videos about self-esteem and personal growth, and they discuss them so she can internalize those ideas.

Infinite patience: He knows there will be good and bad days, and he always supports her, respecting her pace, with active listening and a shoulder to lean on.

Damian Wayne

Damian is colder and more serious, but with his girlfriend he learns to be patient and express his affection more deeply.

Firmness with affection: Though direct, he becomes protective and patient. He tells her that self-love is true strength and that no one, not even herself, has the right to make her feel less.

Shield against criticism: When she feels insecure, Damian becomes her shield, protecting her from any external or internal criticism. “To me, you are the most important person. I won’t allow anyone to make you feel less.”

Challenges with support: He proposes challenges so she can face her fears, always ready to support her if things don’t go as planned. “Falling is not losing. Getting up is what matters.”

Showing love through actions: Although not very expressive with words, his actions show how much he values and protects her.

Telling her she’s his hero: In her most vulnerable moments, he tells her she’s a hero to him, and that he loves her unconditionally for who she is.

Patience and growth: Sometimes he’s blunt, but he learns to be patient and respect her process because he knows love is also about accompanying internal struggles.

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Family x Fem!OC

You confess your feelings to them

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (aged up), Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Selina Kyle & Kate Kane

Jason Todd aka. Red Hood

- Jason Todd is not a man of gentle expressions, but there’s something in his eyes when he looks at you that betrays the storm raging within him. He’s rough around the edges, a product of tragedy and survival, but there’s a softness he reserves for you—a quiet longing he cannot suppress. You’ve caught him staring countless times, his lips parting as if to speak, only to close again as he retreats behind his walls. He’s not afraid of danger, but vulnerability terrifies him, and you’ve become his greatest fear.

- When you finally confess your feelings to Jason, he freezes. His confidence, his biting humor, and his unshakable demeanor all crumble for a moment, leaving him stripped bare before you. He looks at you like you’ve just handed him the most fragile piece of glass, his calloused hands unsure of how to hold it without shattering it. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," he says, his voice low and trembling, but there’s no mistaking the flicker of hope in his gaze.

- Jason doesn’t let people in easily. He’s been burned too many times, betrayed by those he once trusted, and haunted by the shadow of his own death. But you? You’ve always been different. He doesn’t know how you managed to slip past his defenses, but now that you’re here, he’s terrified of losing you. His love is fierce, protective, and consuming, like a wildfire that doesn’t know how to burn quietly. He promises to protect you, even from himself.

- He doesn’t say “I love you” right away. Jason isn’t the type to rush into declarations, but his actions speak volumes. He becomes more attentive, more present, and more open in ways he never thought he could be. He’ll cook for you, fix things for you, and show up when you least expect it but need him the most. Every small gesture is his way of saying what he’s too scared to put into words.

- When he finally does say it, it’s in the dead of night, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” The vulnerability in his tone makes your chest ache. Jason Todd loves like he fights—with everything he has, unrelenting and unapologetic. And as you take his hand in yours, you realize that the walls he once hid behind have crumbled, leaving only the raw, unguarded truth of his love for you.

Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing

- Dick Grayson is the kind of man whose charm lights up any room he walks into, but with you, it’s different. His usual ease and effortless charisma falter slightly, replaced by a nervous energy that he can’t quite mask. He teases you playfully, his laughter warm and inviting, but beneath it all, there’s a flicker of uncertainty. You’ve always known him as a beacon of joy and optimism, but when he looks at you, there’s a depth to his gaze that makes your heart skip.

- When you confess your feelings, Dick is stunned into silence. His bright blue eyes widen, and for a moment, you can see every emotion he’s feeling—surprise, hope, and a vulnerability he rarely shows. Then, a slow, radiant smile spreads across his face, one that makes you feel like the most important person in the world. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he says, his voice soft and full of wonder.

- Dick’s love is like sunlight—warm, steady, and impossible to ignore. He’s the type to sweep you off your feet, literally and figuratively, finding ways to make every moment with you feel like an adventure. He doesn’t shy away from showing affection, whether it’s holding your hand in public, leaving notes for you to find, or pulling you into a spontaneous dance in the middle of a quiet street. With Dick, love is vibrant and all-encompassing.

- He listens to you in a way that makes you feel truly seen, his attention unwavering as you speak. Dick is thoughtful, always finding ways to support and uplift you. He remembers the little things—your favorite coffee order, the stories you’ve told him, the songs you hum when you think no one is listening. His love is attentive and intentional, a constant reminder that you’re the center of his world.

- The first time he tells you he loves you, it’s during a quiet moment. The world fades away as he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as he gazes at you with a tenderness that makes your breath catch. “I love you,” he says, his voice steady and certain. And as he presses his forehead against yours, you know that with Dick Grayson, you’ve found a love that is as boundless as the sky.

Tim Drake aka. Red Robin

- Tim Drake is an enigma, a mind that never rests, always analyzing, always planning. But when it comes to you, his careful composure falters. You’ve seen him lose himself in thought, his eyes distant as he works through some puzzle in his head, but the moment you enter the room, his focus shifts entirely to you. He’s quiet, observant, and hesitant, but there’s a softness in the way he looks at you that speaks volumes.

- When you confess your feelings, Tim’s reaction is as complex as the man himself. His first instinct is to overthink, to dissect every word you’ve said, trying to understand how someone as extraordinary as you could feel the same way about him. But then, his logical mind gives way to emotion, and he smiles—a rare, genuine smile that makes your heart ache. “I… I didn’t think this could happen,” he admits, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and quiet joy.

- Tim’s love is quiet and steadfast, like the gentle hum of a machine that never stops working. He shows his affection in subtle ways—a cup of tea waiting for you when you’re tired, a blanket draped over your shoulders when you’ve fallen asleep, a quiet reassurance that he’s always there. He’s not the most expressive, but his actions are deliberate, each one a testament to how much you mean to him.

- He’s not used to putting himself first, and loving you is both a challenge and a revelation. Tim finds himself wanting to be better, not because he thinks he isn’t enough, but because you inspire him to grow. He shares pieces of himself with you that he’s never shared with anyone else—his fears, his dreams, his insecurities. With you, he feels safe, and that safety becomes his sanctuary.

- The first time he tells you he loves you, it’s quiet and unplanned. He’s working late in the Batcave, and you bring him coffee, setting it down beside him. He looks up, his eyes soft and filled with gratitude, and the words slip out before he can stop them. “I love you.” It’s simple, unadorned, and completely genuine, and in that moment, you know that Tim Drake’s love is as profound as it is enduring.

Damian Wayne aka. Robin

- Damian Wayne is not an easy person to love, but you’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. He’s sharp-tongued, prideful, and often difficult, but beneath the layers of arrogance and bravado lies a heart that beats fiercely for those he cares about. You see the way he softens around you, the way his scowl becomes less pronounced, his tone less biting. He’s still Damian, but with you, he allows himself to be vulnerable, even if only a little.

- When you confess your feelings, Damian’s first reaction is disbelief. He straightens his posture, his piercing green eyes narrowing as if trying to detect a lie. But when he sees the sincerity in your gaze, his expression shifts. “You’re serious?” he asks, his voice low and uncertain. The Damian Wayne who always has a retort for everything is, for once, at a loss for words.

- Damian’s love is fierce and protective, like a knight sworn to defend their queen. He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but his actions speak louder than words. He ensures your safety with an intensity that borders on obsession, his sharp mind always a step ahead of potential threats. To him, loving you means shielding you from the darkness of the world, even if it means sacrificing pieces of himself.

- Despite his tough exterior, Damian’s affection manifests in small, meaningful ways. He’ll remember the books you love, the meals you enjoy, and the stories you’ve shared. He’ll leave a rare flower on your doorstep, a subtle nod to something you mentioned in passing. Damian may not say “I love you” often, but his actions are a constant reminder of how deeply he feels for you.

- When he does tell you, it’s after a battle, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He looks at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice firm and resolute. “And I… I love you.” It’s not a declaration made lightly, but one that carries the weight of his entire being. And as he takes your hand in his, you know that Damian Wayne’s love is as unyielding as the man himself.

Barbara Gordon aka. Oracle / Batgirl

- Barbara Gordon is a woman of strength and resilience, a beacon of hope in a world often shrouded in darkness. She’s brilliant, determined, and fiercely independent, but with you, she lets her guard down. There’s a warmth in her smile when she sees you, a light in her eyes that speaks of a deep, unspoken connection. She’s not one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but you can feel her affection in every word, every glance, every touch.

- When you confess your feelings, Barbara is caught off guard. Her usual composure wavers, and for a moment, she looks at you as if you’ve just rewritten the world. “You mean that?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief and cautious hope. When you nod, her smile grows, and she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Well, it’s about time,” she says, her tone teasing but her eyes brimming with emotion.

- Barbara’s love is steadfast and empowering. She believes in you, perhaps even more than you believe in yourself, and she’s always there to lift you up when you falter. Her affection is woven into the fabric of your everyday life—the way she makes time for you despite her busy schedule, the way she listens to you with undivided attention, the way she challenges you to be your best self.

- She’s not afraid to be vulnerable with you, sharing her fears and insecurities in a way she rarely does with anyone else. With you, she feels safe, and that safety allows her to embrace every facet of herself—the good, the bad, and everything in between. Barbara’s love is a partnership, a meeting of equals, and she treasures the bond you share.

- The first time she tells you she loves you, it’s during a quiet moment at her apartment. She’s working on her computer, the glow of the screen casting soft shadows across her face. You’re sitting beside her, and she suddenly turns to you, her expression open and unguarded. “I love you,” she says simply, her voice steady and sincere. And as she takes your hand in hers, you realize that Barbara Gordon’s love is a gift you’ll cherish for the rest of your life.

Stephanie Brown aka. Spoiler

- Stephanie Brown’s love is like a burst of color in a black-and-white world—vibrant, chaotic, and utterly unforgettable. She’s the kind of person who laughs loudly, teases endlessly, and throws herself headfirst into life. But when it comes to you, her usual bravado softens. You notice it in the way she lingers a little too long during conversations, the way her jokes take on a tender edge, the way she looks at you as though you’re the only thing keeping her grounded.

- When you confess your feelings, Stephanie is utterly floored. Her first instinct is to crack a joke, deflecting the overwhelming surge of emotion she feels. But then she sees the sincerity in your eyes, and her laughter fades into a quiet, stunned silence. “Wait—are you serious?” she asks, her voice uncharacteristically small. When you confirm it, her grin spreads wide and bright. “Well, it’s about time, gorgeous,” she says, pulling you into a spontaneous, breathless hug.

- Stephanie’s love is a whirlwind, full of spontaneity and adventure. She’ll drag you into ridiculous escapades, like sneaking onto rooftops just to stargaze or planning midnight trips to the nearest diner. But for all her chaotic energy, there’s a depth to her love that surprises even her. She’s fiercely loyal, ready to fight the world if it means protecting you, and she makes sure you never feel like you’re facing life’s challenges alone.

- She’s not shy about showing her affection, either. Stephanie thrives on physical closeness—hand-holding, hugs, and playfully stealing kisses when you least expect it. She’s the type to leave sticky notes on your fridge with doodles and silly messages or text you memes that remind her of you. Her love is unfiltered and unapologetic, as bright and boundless as the woman herself.

- When she finally says “I love you,” it’s during a quiet moment after a chaotic day. You’re sitting together, catching your breath, when she suddenly blurts it out. “I love you, you know that, right?” Her tone is so casual it takes you a moment to register her words. But when you look at her, she’s grinning, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. And in that moment, you know that Stephanie Brown’s love is the kind that will never let you go.

Cassandra Cain aka. Orphan

- Cassandra Cain is a woman of few words, but her actions speak louder than anything she could ever say. She watches you with an intensity that can be both unnerving and comforting, her dark eyes seeming to read your every thought. Cassandra doesn’t love lightly; she’s been through too much, seen too much, to give her heart away without thought. But with you, it’s different. You’ve become her anchor, her safe place, even if she struggles to put those feelings into words.

- When you confess your feelings, Cassandra is silent for a long moment. She studies you, her expression unreadable, as if trying to gauge the truth of your words. Then, slowly, a smile blooms on her face—small, tentative, but undeniably genuine. She doesn’t say much in response, just a quiet, “Me too.” But the way she looks at you, her eyes shining with emotion, says more than words ever could.

- Cassandra’s love is quiet and unwavering. She shows her affection in the way she protects you, always staying one step ahead of any danger. She’ll guide you through crowded streets with a hand on your back, ensure you’re safe without being overbearing, and stand by your side no matter what. Her love is steady and unshakeable, like a lighthouse guiding you through the storm.

- She’s not big on grand romantic gestures, but the small things she does speak volumes. Cassandra will sit with you in silence, her presence comforting and grounding. She’ll learn your favorite songs, your favorite foods, and the little quirks that make you who you are. She may not say “I love you” often, but every action, every glance, every touch is a reminder of how deeply she feels for you.

- The first time she tells you she loves you, it’s simple and unadorned, but it takes your breath away. You’re sitting together, her hand resting lightly over yours, when she looks at you and says, “I love you.” Her voice is soft but certain, her gaze steady and unwavering. And in that moment, you realize that Cassandra Cain’s love is a quiet, enduring flame that will never be extinguished.

Duke Thomas aka. Signal

- Duke Thomas is a beacon of light in the darkness, his optimism and determination shining through even in the toughest of times. He’s the type of person who believes in people, who sees the good in the world even when it’s hard to find. But when it comes to you, his usual confidence wavers. You catch him stealing glances when he thinks you’re not looking, his smile softening whenever you’re near. With you, Duke feels like he’s found something worth fighting for.

- When you confess your feelings, Duke’s first reaction is disbelief. “Wait—really?” he asks, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and joy. But when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, his grin spreads wide, lighting up his entire face. “You have no idea how happy this makes me,” he says, pulling you into a warm, heartfelt hug. In that moment, it’s as if the entire world fades away, leaving just the two of you.

- Duke’s love is steady and reassuring, like the warm glow of a streetlight on a dark night. He’s the type to check in on you regularly, making sure you’re okay and offering support whenever you need it. His affection is thoughtful and deliberate, whether it’s surprising you with your favorite snacks or sending you encouraging messages throughout the day. With Duke, love is a constant, unwavering presence.

- He’s also deeply protective of you, not in a controlling way, but in a way that makes you feel safe. Duke is always thinking ahead, always considering how he can make your life better and easier. His love is selfless and genuine, rooted in a deep respect for who you are as a person. He admires your strength, your beauty, and your resilience, and he never lets you forget how much you mean to him.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s during a quiet moment, just the two of you sitting together under the stars. He takes your hand in his, his thumb gently tracing circles on your skin. “I love you,” he says, his voice steady and full of emotion. And as you look into his eyes, you know that Duke Thomas’s love is a light that will guide you through anything.

Selina Kyle aka. Catwoman

- Selina Kyle is a mystery, a woman who walks the line between light and shadow with a grace that is all her own. She’s playful and alluring, her every word and movement carefully calculated to keep you guessing. But when she’s with you, there’s a vulnerability she doesn’t show to anyone else. You’ve seen the softness in her gaze, the way her teasing smirks give way to genuine smiles, the way she lets her guard down just enough to let you in.

- When you confess your feelings, Selina’s reaction is a mix of surprise and amusement. She arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she says, her tone light and teasing. But then her expression softens, and she steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” she admits, her voice quieter now, almost shy.

- Selina’s love is like a dance—graceful, unpredictable, and utterly captivating. She keeps you on your toes, always surprising you with her wit and charm. She’ll whisk you away on spontaneous adventures, whether it’s a rooftop picnic under the stars or a midnight walk through the city. With Selina, love is an exhilarating game, one that you never want to end.

- Despite her playful demeanor, Selina’s love runs deep. She’s fiercely protective of you, willing to fight tooth and nail to keep you safe. She’s not one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but her actions speak louder than words. She’ll remember the little things, like how you take your coffee or the stories you’ve told her, and she’ll find ways to show you how much she cares in her own unique way.

- The first time she tells you she loves you, it’s almost accidental. You’re lying together, the city lights casting shadows across her face, when she whispers it, almost as if she didn’t mean to say it out loud. “I love you,” she says, her voice soft and full of emotion. And as she looks at you, her usual confidence giving way to something raw and real, you realize that Selina Kyle’s love is as complex and beautiful as the woman herself.

Kate Kane aka. Batwoman

- Kate Kane is a fortress, her walls built high and strong to keep out the pain of her past. She’s tough, confident, and unyielding, but with you, she allows herself to be vulnerable. You’ve seen the cracks in her armor, the moments when she lets her guard down and shows you the woman behind the Bat. There’s a quiet intensity in the way she looks at you, a depth of emotion she struggles to put into words.

- When you confess your feelings, Kate’s reaction is guarded. She takes a step back, her sharp blue eyes studying you carefully. “You’re serious?” she asks, her voice steady but tinged with uncertainty. But when you nod, her expression softens, and a small, almost hesitant smile breaks through. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she admits, her voice quiet. “But… I’m glad you said it.”

- Kate’s love is a steady, grounding force. She’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but her affection is unwavering and deeply genuine. She’ll show her love through quiet acts of care—making sure you’re safe, supporting you in your goals, and standing by your side no matter what. With Kate, love is a partnership built on trust and mutual respect.

- She’s fiercely protective of you, her training and instincts kicking in whenever she senses danger. But she also knows when to let you stand on your own, respecting your independence and strength. Kate’s love is balanced and empowering, a reminder that she sees you as her equal in every way. She admires your courage, your beauty, and your resilience, and she makes sure you know it.

- The first time she says “I love you,” it’s after a long night of patrols. You’re sitting together, the exhaustion visible on her face, when she turns to you and takes your hand. “I love you,” she says simply, her voice steady and sincere. And as she looks at you, her walls finally lowered, you know that Kate Kane’s love is a fortress you can always call home.

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 3)

Summary: the batfam have a meeting, Constantine got a little too lost in the sauce when crafting Danny's sob story, and we find out what Dracula's been up to all these years. Oh and the DC version of Vlad is fully dead? More at 9

Relationships: the batfam

on god I spent too much time thinking about danny's vampsona. he's got two outfits so far. no I didn't make a concept board. no I didn't make a picrew. I don't know what you're talking about

(sorry if this is all horribly ooc I struggled a bit with making this intelligible)

Red Hood doesn't usually leave Crime Alley. That's a known fact. But Batman doesn't usually call a meeting that includes Red Hood. The old man learned years ago not to involve him unless it's important with a capitol I.

Pulling into the Batcave, Jason slows to a stop on his motorcycle. He follows the voices of his family to the Batcomputer. Everyone is in full gear, but not everyone is fully present.

Dickhead was ransacking the medical room for...blood bags? Barbie and Replacement carved out a corner to the right of the main computer. They'd set up a foldable table for their personal laptops, sitting side by side as they quietly schemed together. Damian was working hard on some sort of artwork with a similar table to the left. He stuck his tongue out in concentration. Adorable.

Bruce was pulling up a very old case file in the central system. It looked to be a string of serial disappearances.

Jason wasn't the last to arrive for once. The elevator to the manor dings behind him. Alfred and the rest of the brood step out into the cave, carrying weapons and gadgets by the armful. Old looking Batarangs, glorified flashlights, cases upon cases of the anti-toxin epipens filled with unfamiliar blue formula. And wooden stakes.

Like a good grandson he steps up to help lighten Alfred's load, but he only gets two steps in before the old butler gives him a very disapproving eyebrow raise. Jason retreats with his hands up. He turns back to Bruce.

"This better be a bloodsucker apocalypse or you won't see me til Christmas."

Bruce pulls up a detailed list of the weapons and their uses on screen. Everyone stops what their doing and takes a picture with their phones. Garlic Batarangs, flashlights with artificial sunlight, a cure for vampirism. Wooden stakes need no introduction or explanation, except for why his dad - who is very against killing to put it fucking gently - would be giving them a vamp equivalent of a gun.

"Potentially," Bruce says. "We need to draw up new contingencies. But we also need to debrief so we have all the facts to do so."

Surprisingly, both Duke AND Tim groan. Jason understands Duke. The teen does not have the patience - ahem, attention - to learn all the contingencies at once. Which Bruce recently subjected him to from what he's gleaned from the sibling group chat.

But Tim? Making and learning ridiculous lists is the guy's bread and butter, the freak. So why -

"C'mon Bruce. What we know so far about the guy makes it seem he might be genuine. We do not have to plan a murder yet. Murder is messy - and wrong, definitely wrong." Tim tacks the last part on way too quickly for anyone here to believe that's what he actually feels. Hah. Another one straying off the path of the No Kill Rule. He can't wait to hear the details when one of their siblings interrogates him about it later.

Bruce exhales through his nose. He puts the previous topic away in favor of pulling up a picture of a middle-aged man with glacial blue eyes. His face is long and angular, and he wears old style European clothes that screams 'I'm an old rich vampire, come stake me'. Jason snorts - something about his face is so punchable.

"Dr. Alucard seemed genuine at first, too." He pulls up a picture of the same man, but this time with sunken in cheek bones. His salt and pepper hair is fully bleached, and his eyes glow unnervingly. It's a candid of him mid-fight in the Batcave, a furious snarl on his lips, baring some wicked fangs at a young Batman. "Or should I say, Dracula." He's answered with a round of gasps.

Jason's starting to see how every single one of them ended up as (melo)dramatic little shits.

He puts the pictures away. "Around the time when I was first starting out, the Penguin accidentally freed him from where he was sealed in Gotham's cemetery." Bruce begins. Jason wonders with a tight chest just what was wrong with that place. Why do the dead keep coming back to life there?

If he had a nickel...

Bruce pulls up the headlines of the 'Lost Ones' case. Jason opens his mouth to comment, but Dick beats him to it. "They seriously thought it was Batman? C'mon! How incompetent is the GCPD?"

Jason scoffs. "Says the fucking cop."

"Ex-cop, thank you. And I worked in Bludhaven before I figured out they were just as corrupted and rooting that out from the inside was a terrible plan."

"Anyone coulda told you that," Duke snarks. Jason backs him up. "Your problem is you always want to give people the benefit of the doubt when you shouldn't."

"Boys." Bruce interrupts. They all stop at the tone he uses. Alfred clears his throat, and answers Dick's rhetorical question from earlier. "That was unfortunately a common occurrence when Master B was a young bat. It would do you all well to be mindful of keeping your reputations positive amidst suspicion."

Jason doesn't laugh out of respect for Alfred - he was so not talking about him. He needs to do the opposite of spit rainbows out his ass to be effective.

"Oh my God is that why Bruce keeps gatekeeping everyone he meets? He's hazing them like a vigilante initiation ritual?" Steph whispers to Cass. He hears her softly laugh in response as she nods.

"I agree with Grayson. The GCPD are fools to think that if Father were a serial killer or trafficker that they'd ever even know. He is better than that." The demon brat brags.

Bruce huffs fondly. "It's a good thing I'm not." He gestures to the weapons. "We fought. He'd started turning people left and right, making them mind controlled vampire pawns. The Joker got turned-"

Jason's vision floods green. "And you didn't fucking stake him? Even more fucking dangerous -"

"-and I managed to capture him at a blood bank before he could do more than destruction of private property." Bruce raises his voice over him. Jason clenches and unclenches his fists. He itches to shoot something, to break something, to get relief to this God forsaken green-flavored, rage-filled pressure starting to boil over in his chest at the reminder of his murderer.

Blessedly everyone shuts the fuck up as he tries to not blow his top. Bruce should've staked him. He had the perfect excuse all lined up, and the opportunity, and goddamit Barbara wouldn't be in a wheelchair and Duke's parents would be fine and Jason wouldn't have come back evil -

Bruce isn't and wasn't evil, he reminds himself. Not like Jason is. And it's not helpful to blame him for his nature right now when they need to fucking debrief. Woulda-coulda-shoulda's are for chumps.

When he blinks back the green, shoved it down to where it's there but managed, his family haven't moved an inch from where they had been. It's a small but meaningful relief to see that they hadn't taken defensive positions like they would've in the past. They just untensed as Jason's arms stopped trembling from supernatural rage.

No one calls attention to his near-episode further, and he's grateful. "I took him back to the cave. With his blood samples I managed to create a cure for the thralls. They all went back to their everyday lives without any memories of what happened. Joker is no exception."

Which is code for, 'I found a reason to bypass normal ethics and experiment on the Joker for the greater good and yes I still remember which cell he was in. It was the highlight of that week.' It makes him feel marginally better and worse in equal measure. Where the fuck was that energy when he kicked the bucket? (Superman, was where. They already had this conversation)

"At that time Wayne Enterprises had been taking it's first steps into solar energy. When Dracula invaded the cave, we were able to survive due to the stored sunlight that the proto-type gathered."

"Wait. No, wait. Hold on. The urn on the fireplace? Please tell me that's a grandma we don't talk about." Duke pleads. "Please. It's not Kentucky Fried Vampire. Please."

When Bruce doesn't say anything for way too long, Steph nearly chokes on trying to hold back her laughter. Alfred clears his throat. "Batman was rather hurt after the altercation. And Dr. Alucard was rather rude in how he barged in - uninvited! I found it suitable that if he insisted on destroying the decorations, that he should contribute."

Steph full out cannot stop once it begins. Everyone else stares dumbfounded either at Bruce or Alfred. Dick looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. Duke is regretting his life decisions, probably the ones about joining this family. Damian is not comprehending the issue with any of this, expecting a follow up anytime soon. Cass shakes her head, but Jason hears a quiet "grandma dracula is disappointed".

He doesn't know how to feel other than dear Lord please he cannot laugh. No matter how absurd this is. He sounds ridiculous in his helmet.

"...leaving the ashes unattended would spell disaster in the wrong hands," Bruce clarifies once the giggles fall away, "Dracula kidnapped Vicky Vale to use her soul in resurrecting his wife from her ashes. Letting Alfred hide it in plain sight didn't sound like a bad enough idea to try to stop him."

"Precisely, Master Bruce." The butler approves.

"Damn. That's just cold." Dick remarks. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free arm. "I would ask what the hell he deserved that for but he's literally an ancient evil vampire, so." His older brother jostles the blood bags he's cradling. "Hopefully this guy's an unrelated friendly."

Duke whines in the back of his throat. Jason squeezes his shoulder in sympathy.

"Tonight?" Cass redirects.

"Tonight I came across the unknown on our usual route. I had Robin stay back when I spotted him a distance away. He'd been running across rooftops, watching the people below. I followed for half a block before he walked down the side of a building and into an alley right on the border of Park Row."

"Crime Alley." Jason corrects.

"Crime Alley," Bruce amends. "Once there, he paused for a moment, searching the crowds for something. He took out a clear canister filled with a dark red liquid. It had the same viscosity as blood."

"Where's he getting the blood from? There hasn't been anymore blood bank robberies, attempted or otherwise. And no one's turned up with weird wounds, dead or alive." Steph pipes up. Babs lifts her hand up as she adds her two cents. "Unlessss, mystery teeth here is using the same tactic Drac did. If he's just arriving then we shouldn't be noticing anything just yet."

Bruce holds up a gloved finger in a 'I wasn't done' gesture. "When I approached, the unknown claimed that the canister was a synthesizer when asked. I couldn't detect any lie in his body language or voice. He then introduced himself as 'Dante Nightingale', but asked to be called Danny, which either means he's a modern vampire or an old one who is familiar with the times. I then confronted him about stalking humans from an alleyway. He revealed intel that will be worrying if confirmed."

Jason hums. "Sounds like this guy might not be the supernatural flavor of creep, at least," he mutters under his breath.

Tim raises his hand next. "From what B told me earlier, Danny said that there was some weird ghostly-doppelganger-vampire activity that our suspect hasn't seen before. The behavior, not the creatures." Tim pushes up his blue light glasses as he takes a breath. "Anyways. The info on Shades checks out. The JLD records told me all about them. Show of hands if anyone's seen Appalachia Tik Tok?"

Oh Jason doesn't like where this is going. Alfred (surprisingly), Cass, Dick, Babs, Steph, and Duke all put their hands up too.

Tim goes on. "The mimics? Shades are like that, but with a life force sucking aspect. They're basically ghosts who never were alive and didn't form right, so they eat human emotions until they become fully sentient ghosts called Specters. In a really creepy 'I'm going to replace you' way. So. Bad stuff."

Jason shivers when Bruce nods. "Nightingale claims that they're walking the streets in unusual numbers. That he had just arrived and in Gotham and that he was exploring tonight when he noticed something off."

"Ohhhhkay! Just what we needed, yeah? Invisible monsters in Gotham!" Dick says. "Quick, scratch that off the bingo."

Tim rolls his eyes. "Do we have a description? Power set, background check? I need everything I can to narrow down which type of vamp in the database." He's tapping away at his laptop again, not looking up as he types.

Bruce motions for Damian to come closer. The demon brat hands off the artwork he'd been quietly working on as they talked. Bruce observes it, before nodding at where Damian stands at attention like a good little soldier. Damian preens.

Jason blinks away the green.

Their dad scans the sheet with a device, and the image pops up on the main computer. The man in the portrait has pale skin - obviously. Fangs - no duh. Although notably shaped differently from Drac's. Claws a good few inches long and white in color. Jason spies an interesting ring. It's crown shaped and encased in fake(?) ice. Freckles on his rounder face, framed by wispy-looking stark white hair. Skeleton earrings, black turtleneck, a white blouse with a ridiculously low vee neck tucked into green pants. A delicate chain in the shape of a spiderweb wraps around his covered throat in a pleasing contrast.

The man's eyes are a hauntingly familiar shade of green. He sees it often.

The pupils glow a lighter hue of lazarus, shaped like four-pointed stars. Jason would say the guy looks more like a fae took a dip in the Pits than bloodsucker. But what does he know? Guy didn't deny the blood drinking accusations for fuck's sake.

Babs jumps in again. "We had B give Robin a description because apparently his presence is a hell of an EMP. Video feed and coms went down as soon as Batman joined him in the alley. So a few feet away." She clicks a few things on her own screen, and then starts reading down some sort of list she typed up for herself.

"Dante Nightingale, aged nineteen. A farm boy from Illinois. Parents Robert and Jane Nightingale. No other relatives. Totally normal until he was struck by lightning at thirteen and his metagene activated, giving him minor power over ice and sensitivity to heat." She taps something on her computer and a young Danny Nightingale jumps next to Damian's portrait. The black haired boy has a big goofy grin on his even rounder face, splattered with freckles. In this picture, it's obvious that although he's trying to look happy for picture day, the kid had serious bags under his eyes, and a look in those clear blues that just screamed that Danny had seen some awful things. "Then at fourteen, the whole family got into a car crash. Robert and Jane died on scene, while Dante lasted three days in the hospital before going missing entirely."

Babs pushes up her glasses and takes a deep steadying breath. "The nurses on duty reported a change in hair and eye color, as well as strange dental elongation in the canines. Paired with uncontrollable ice stronger than recorded earlier, this led them to believe that Danny's metagene strained under the new trauma and started causing physical mutations alongside the modifications to his original ability. But I think we all know what was actually happening to him."

"...What else do we know about the kid?" Dick asks. Anyone who didn't know him would say that Dick was relaxed, but Jason and anyone else who knew him could clearly see that Danny's story hit a little too close to home. Dead parents in an 'accident' where the kid was there to see. Yeah.

Heh. This looks like a classic meta trafficking case, the more he follows that thought. Not the casual kind most parents have to fear - pick a kid off the street just 'cause they were there, someone will pay for 'em no matter if they're pretty or not.

No. This was targeted. Planned out weeks, months, years in advance. Someone wanted this kid for something specific - enough to murder his parents for and make it look like an accident. Likely, it was to have an ice meta under mind control, considering what Bruce said about Dracula and his thralls. If he's right, Jason might have to go all Buffy Summers and deal with them.

Jason reaches out to catch Duke by the shoulder again and this time he doesn't let go. His newest brother looks at him, big brown eyes wide and fearful. It could've been him, easy. They both think it. They both know it. Fuck, Danny was just a few years younger than he is now.

Jason squeezes. He whispers low to him. "I'd shoot them in the balls for you. Won't let 'em take you. End bloodlines if I have to, to get you back." Duke gulps, and nods. The teen squeezes his eyes shut and Jason pretends he doesn't see him quickly wipe his eyes.

"...Recently, he got legally un-declared dead, and opened a bank account. Looks like one very dead Vlad Masters left his fortune to him sometime earlier. Man owned a goddamn castle. They found a secret lab in his basement with strange equipment when they went looking for evidence. And. Oh. Oh that's not good."

"What is it?" He asked, not wanting to know the answer already.

"Police found a mystery green liquid they couldn't identify but put the composition on file. I just ran it through our systems. 70% match to lazarus water. What's more, there were blood packs close by that were heavily contaminated with the same substance." She looks like she was ready to throw up at the dots they were all connecting.

He might as well. "Alright. Meta kid's trafficked at fourteen and turned into a vampire. Spends the next five years caught by mad scientist vampires who poked and prodded at him like a rat. Then, he murders the assholes, runs off with their money, and moves to Gotham. Fuck's sake." Jason sums up.

Bruce makes a 'I'm not disagreeing with you but I have an opinion' grunt. "That's one possibility. The most likely one from what we know right now."

"But?" Someone prompts.

"But. He mentioned a term called 'Fraid'. He said that someone told him that myself and 'my Fraid' were good people. Nightingale claimed it was a cultural term for found family," Bruce explained. The man's mouth twitches into a frown. "If he was being held hostage all that time, would they have bothered to teach him that? And if they did, experimentation wouldn't be all they had wanted from him. No one would bother to teach someone disposable."

Tim stopped typing for a second, eyes widening and then blanking quick as a whip. Swallowed. Went back in with a vigor.

"So. Either. He got away from his kidnappers, and there's some found family out there somewhere. Or he never got away from them, but he was not expendable. His kidnappers may have forced him into their family." Steph reasoned out.

"Man. This is fucked up." Duke mutters. "You're telling me, kid." Jason whispers back.

Damian bristles. "Father. We have to interrogate him. Nightingale may have connections to the League of Assassins, or a similar organization run by vampires. The lazarus water is damning. We must make sure." The demon brat demands. Which. Fair. More unknown lazarus pits are just asking for evil to pull up with some friends.

Bruce makes an 'I agree with you but I'm thinking' grunt. But before he can respond, Tim cuts in. "So Fraid is definitely what he says it means. But according to the records, only the dead or undead use it. Obviously I did a little digging. Vampires don't count as either of those, even though some sleep in coffins and stuff. No, most vampires count as something called 'death touched'. Meaning they're still alive, albeit really in tune with the other side." Tim shifts, chugging a quick bit of cold coffee. "Only one match came up when I searched for undead vampire. The thing is, it exists, but the file is on the JLD's red tape section."

Which is code for 'don't fucking touch this dimwits if you value your life, call us for fucks sake'. Pleasant.

"Yes Father. If Drake is not once again wildly incorrect and foolish, Nightingale is undead. And it's obvious how." Damian presses.

"I will make the call. Red Robin, keep looking. I'll type up the rest of the abilities and send them to you all. Everyone working with me officially, no one goes on patrol alone. We work in pairs until further notice. Everyone bring with them the anti-vampire precautions we have until we have better options." Batman commands to the group. He zeroes in on Jason, and Jason gears up to rip Bruce a new one for treating him like he's still one his birds.

But that's not what happens. "And Red Hood. Just...be careful."

Instead of acknowledging the icky ooey gooey feelings, Jason snorts derisively. "I'll tell my guys and girls to keep a lookout. If anyone goes missing I'd bet ya a thousand it'll be one of mine. Everyone knows no one's gonna call the cops." He turns around and stuffs his pockets with the gadgets, and Dick threw him a blood bag. "Later assholes."

Jason revs his bike. Tonight, he'll make his rounds, doing what said he would. And hey. Probably hit up that rage room in Bristol he goes to in civvies. Crime's been real quiet recently, and he knows it's likely purposeful.

That pisses him off that they think they can hide from him forever in his own territory.

Tonight's been bad, too. He'd rather go beat up some stupid garbage than risk a pit rage on some numb nut that at most only needs a couple slices to catch his drift. Heh. He's gonna see if they'd let him tape a pic of Dracula to a TV so he can cave his face in post-mortem.

[superbat-lmao]

A mage who doesn’t like child soldiers targets Batman in Gotham. They know that several vigilantes connected to him are children or were children when they started.

Their vendetta against him basically boils down to, “What the hell were you thinking?” and they cast a spell against him accordingly.

Every day, a new family member will be able to read Bruce’s mind for 24 hours. It’s entirely random and the definition of “family member” is incredibly loose, but everyone knows the Robins are his children because of how berserk he went when Robin II died.

On the one hand, it’s a horrific violation of everyone’s privacy.

On the other, Bruce finally figures out what his kids think of him and don’t say. And his kids are finally able to realize that yes, he cares about them exactly as much as they want him to. He’s literally the absolute worst at showing it or communicating that, but he cares.

Dick gets confirmation that Bruce knows how good he is, how capable he is to lead a team. That Bruce doesn’t secretly think that when he screws up it’s because he isn’t cut out to be a vigilante. When he screws up, Bruce gets scared and lashes out in the only way an emotionally repressed father can, by making it worse. That Bruce doesn’t think Dick is incapable of looking after himself or making the right call. All of Bruce’s attempts to control Dick or his life were because he was scared. Because he wanted Dick to be better than him, and he is, just not in the ways Bruce was first able to see. Having more friends and being connected to people is infinitely more important than college, though it took time for Bruce to see that. Dick is Bruce’s first son and he couldn’t be more proud.

Jason realizes that Bruce loves him. That he tears himself apart over their relationship. That he feels there’s a clear line between Bruce’s opinion of Jason and of Jason’s actions. Because murder is wrong and Bruce’s philosophy is grounded in second chances. Because he just wants Jason to come home and his son’s actions scare him because he’s more isolated from backup than his brothers. Jason can literally feel how Bruce thinks, how he sees murder and how he thinks about himself. Bruce doesn’t think it’s a line he would be able to walk away from, and Jason feels more precarious seeing the world as his father thinks about it than in his own head. There is far less judgement in Bruce’s thoughts. Just pure concern. And self doubt over what to say. Bruce never sought to replace him, would have joined him, and has missed him. Those were always Jason’s major concerns.

Tim sees that Bruce views him as his son. That he wasn’t a substitute for Jason and he doesn’t secretly think Tim shouldn’t have been Robin. Bruce thinks that Tim reminds him a lot of himself and based on all the things people say about him, that makes Bruce nervous. Because he wants Tim to have fun and be a kid, not feel chained to work the way Bruce is. He knows they both have workaholic tendencies and wants better for Tim, wants him to have friends and a life outside of work. But Tim also knew Bruce at his lowest and so he will always feel guilty that it was Tim who pulled him out of his grief spiral, because Bruce wasn’t strong enough to do it himself.

Damian learns that Bruce was so excited for him to be born and devastated when he thought Talia had lost the pregnancy. That he was furious his son had been hidden from him. That he loves Damian and loved Talia and wasn’t sure how to separate out those feelings. That he would have wanted Damian no matter his level of training, if he gave up this lifestyle or anything. That there is nothing Damian, or any of his family could do to make Bruce stop loving them. Damian is wanted. He can also see that Bruce struggles with knowing how to handle him being a kid that acts like an adult. How he knows how capable Damian is, but that no children should go through that. Bruce didn’t have that sort of childhood. And while his own wasn’t exactly happy, he still got to be a kid. And innocence and youth aren’t things to be looked down on, just experienced. And Bruce doesn’t want Damian to not have those experiences, even if he doesn’t value them as others do. He learns that Bruce trusts him and that his father feels emotions acutely and strongly, such that he becomes reactive in a way that feels accusatory or disappointed but is just afraid.

They all realize that Bruce needs them and hates himself for needing them. That they are his children and he loves them and wants them safe. But that those feelings constantly war with how capable they are, how good his children are at what they do. How much they care about the helping and protecting others. That every time he says something they beat themselves up over, it’s because he’s scared they’ll get hurt or make a mistake that they can’t undo and will have to live with. He never wanted them to join him and it’s not because he thought they couldn’t do it, but precisely because he knows they can. And that sometimes, that isn’t enough. Even metas can get hurt and even Superman could die. By comparison his children are so vulnerable and there’s only so much he can do to keep them safe.

Does he verbalize this?

Bruce thinks so.

But all his kids hear is:

You were too reckless.

You disobeyed orders.

You’re off patrol.

And oddly? This solves like half of the current problems his kids have with him. Because they never really believed him before and always felt the conversations were one-sided.

It does create several new problems thought because Bruce just had like a significant invasion of privacy as the most paranoid person on the planet, so it takes a while for him to calm down and actually work things out with his kids in a way that lasts and isn’t just a bandaid over a bullet hole.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

I’d like to clear up some common misconceptions about the Attack on Titan Tower, aka when Jason infiltrated it to attack Tim

If you want to read this for yourself, here are some links: readallcomics - I have the best luck with this site on destop zipcomic readcomicsonline - this site can be temperamental

1) Jason did not go there to attempt to kill Tim

Jason seems to have 3 separate goals for this: - size up the new kid. - make sure he knows Bruce just sees him as another soldier - prove to Tim just how dangerous the job is (heavily implied, in my opinion, especially after Tim tried telling Jason he was wrong about how Bruce saw him) He also voiced his anger over being forgotten by everyone. Depending on your interpretation of Jason and his character, this could also be a reason. To me, this feels more like an afterthought because they moved to the Hall of Fallen Heroes before he said this, and Jason likes to be dramatic.

Side note on this. Jason never says anything about being replaced.

2) none of Tim’s injuries were life threatening

Once again, Jason was not attempting to kill him. He beat him up pretty badly, but it was designed to prove a point

3) Jason did NOT cut Tim’s throat.

That happened during Hush which predates both Under the Red Hood and Titan’s Tower. Jason was pretending to be Hush, put a knife to Tim’s throat, and put enough pressure to make him bleed (it was not an actual slice) to get Bruce to react to him. That injury was not life threatening either

Edit: I’ve seen some comments about the ‘not life threatening’ statement. Yes, it needed stitches, but it wasn’t spurting blood, therefore not life threatening. Just because you’re bleeding from a neck injury, it doesn’t mean you’re at an immediate risk of dying (spoken from experience). It’s if the carotid artery or jugular vein are cut that it’s a problem, and you’ll know if that happens because of SO MUCH BLOOD. You will bleed out within minutes.

The way it’s portrayed, it’s not a life threatening injury

4) Jason developed a respect and a bit of envy for Tim after fighting him

At the end of the issue while he’s leaving (while outside the tower), Jason acknowledges Tim’s skill. Jason also wonders if he could have had a life more similar to his, where he had friends and a better support system, if he could have had a different life.

5) Tim was NOT a damsel in distress during the fight, and he did NOT develop a fear of Jason.

Tim was making quips and dissing Jason the entire fight. Tim was not afraid of him nor did he bat an eye at being attacked by Jason. He also vocalized just how much he had to work for his cape because of how Jason's death affected Bruce

Also, the next time Tim saw Jason after this, he made sure to kick Jason in the groin

6) Jason wrote "Jason Todd was here" and signed it with a hand print on the wall.

It looks like it could be in blood, but Tim's not injured enough for there to be that much... and blood darkens after a while. There's a bit of time between Tim getting knocked out and the rest of the Titans finding him and the writing so it's probably paint. Again, Jason likes to be dramatic

7) more Robin!Jason slander by Raven

Once again, we get the mention that Jason was "aggressive". I swear, this is the only thing writers remember from Death in the Family and not the point that that behavior was out of the ordinary for Jason. This is a personal pet peeve of mine in the comics.

8) almost forgot to add the most important part, Jason made a homemade Robin costume and wore it under his Red Hood outfit because he could

Again, Jason is a dramatic bitch.

[flwrkid14]

The Batfamily’s Christmas List Tradition (and how Tim gets lost in it)

The Batfamily has a long-standing Christmas tradition: the List. With so many members in the family, it’s a necessity. Everyone writes down what they want (within reason, of course), and the list serves as the ultimate gift guide. It’s efficient, especially for such a big family, and it ensures no one ends up with seven pairs of socks or the same gadget twice.

Tim takes the list seriously. It’s his chance to ask for the small, thoughtful things he wouldn’t usually splurge on for himself. Things like:

New makeup brushes. His old ones are worn out and falling apart, and it’s not until he’s on a mission that requires cross-dressing that he realizes just how bad they’ve gotten. Having a new, high-quality set would make everything feel a little smoother—and maybe even a little fun.

Cozy hoodies. Between Wayne Enterprises business casual and his Robin gear, Tim rarely gets the chance to wear something soft and comforting. His favorite hoodies are all fraying at the edges, with loose threads on the pockets and fabric that’s stretched too thin. A fresh one would feel like a luxury.

A new game console. Tim is rarely ever not working, but on those rare days off, he realizes he doesn't have much to entertain him that's not work related, that doesn't require him to leave his nest. Plus, it’s a great way to connect with his siblings during low-stakes, playful nights.

Nice coffee cups or tumblers. His caffeine habits are legendary, but the chipped and mismatched mugs he uses don’t exactly scream "Tim Drake." A sleek, stylish tumbler or a high-quality ceramic mug would elevate the most important part of his day.

Random indulgences. Books, stationery, weighted blankets, maybe a nice figuring from his favorite movie, a cool gadget he wouldn’t think to buy himself—little things that spark joy and make him feel cared for, anything he knows his own parents would have never bought for him to help heal his inner child. He's never had the luxury of writing such lists before becoming a Wayne.

Tim doesn’t just take the list seriously for himself; he makes sure to go the extra mile for his family, too. He’s always had a knack for gift-giving, and he loves curating the perfect presents for his siblings. For Dick, it might be a rare vinyl of his favorite band. For Jason, an antique first-edition book he’d mentioned once in passing. For Damian, something handmade and unique, like a custom leather-bound sketchbook or a rare art supply. Tim remembers the little things—the throwaway comments, the subtle preferences—and builds his gifts around them, ensuring every box under the tree feels deeply personal.

But Christmas rolls around… and none of the thought Tim puts into his gifts is reflected in what he receives.

Instead, he gets tech. More tech. External hard drives, cables, chargers—things he already has backups for because, well, he’s Tim. He doesn’t need more, and he didn’t ask for more.

And the worst part? It’s not that they’re bad gifts. It’s that the family assumes they know him so well that they don’t even look at his list.

“Tim’s the tech guy,” they think. “Of course he’d want more tech.”

But he doesn’t.

He’s grateful, of course—Tim is always grateful—but there’s a hollowness that creeps in every year when he unwraps another stack of USB drives and ethernet cables. It’s not about the gifts themselves. It’s about the realization that the people he loves, the people who should know him best, don’t see him the way he wants to be seen.

In a way, it feels painfully familiar. Janet had always made sure his presents as a child reflected her vision for him, not what he actually wanted. New tailored suits instead of the hoodies or tees he longed for. Sleek, professional office stationery to replace his Robin-themed pens and notebooks. Vintage collectibles meant to sit on a shelf, collecting dust, instead of toys he could actually play with. The gifts always came with a message: who he should be, not who he was. And now, even with the bats, the gifts still feel like expectations—like they see him as "the tech guy" rather than Tim, with all his quiet wants and overlooked needs.

So, Tim starts dreading Christmas. Not because he doesn’t love his family or the season, but because it reminds him of how little they seem to notice the little things about him.

And maybe one year, he stops adding personal things to the list altogether. Maybe he starts asking for tech, just to avoid the disappointment.

But deep down, he wishes someone—anyone—would surprise him with a new hoodie, a weighted blanket, or a set of makeup brushes. Something that says, “I see you, Tim. I really see you.”

[witherby]

Any motherhen Hal for Mother’s Day?

Absolutely bestie. Coming right up.

When Hal cracks his eyes open, the first thing he sees is a cluster of envelopes on his husband's pillow while Bruce himself is nowhere to be seen. His absence isn't new — running a series of multi-billion dollar companies takes a lot of work, he's told — but leaving anything behind is.

Squinting and shifting across the bedsheets until he escapes the singular sunbeam trying to blind him through the curtain, he reaches out and plucks up the one at the top of the pile, immediately recognizing Dick's handwriting.

"To: Mom (read this one first!!!)" is written on the back. Hal rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he opens the envelope and pulls out a card, wishing him a happy mother's day. He leaves the card in his lap and uses one hand to rub the grit from his eyes while the other palms around the nightstand for his phone. A brief check of the date confirms that it is today. Warmth bubbles up in his chest as he picks up the card again.

The inside is a myriad of different pen colors and handwriting. They're short, personal messages from each of the kids. Hal's sleepy grin brightens as he sits up properly to read each one.

You're not the step-mom. You're the mom that stepped up! <3 - Dick

Thanks for giving a shit, Glowstick. Don't blow your gifts all in one place. - Jay

I love you, please don't go bald. - Tim

My real mother is not dead. I just have two now. Congratulations. - Damian Al Ghul Wayne

I'm told Mama was my first word! I loved you when I barely knew you, I love you now, and I'll love you forever! - Mouse

Hal audibly coos over the card, tucking it carefully back into the envelope and setting it aside. He looks at the other ones sitting on Bruce's pillow next, opening them up one by one to find individual gifts each kid went out of their way to provide.

From Dick, he gets a bunch of coupons to Bat Burger and a thank-you note for picking him up from that Titans party, and making him feel important in the earliest stages of his relationship with Bruce.

From Jason, he gets a custom bookmark with several photos of each kid on it and an anxiously-written scrawl about how, even though he doesn't need it, he appreciates Hal watching his back whenever he's coming and going from the manor.

From Tim, he gets an old-school, holographic photo from his wedding with Bruce. If he tilts it to the left, it's the two of them exchanging a kiss after putting their rings on. If he tilts it to the right, it's a family photo of everybody right before the reception started. On the back, in Tim's handwriting, it just says "My Family."

From Damian, he gets a bunch of intricately and painstakingly-crafted origami animals, barely the size of a finger each, and a note promising that any harm that befalls him will come with swift and brutal vengeance at Damian's hands.

From you, he gets a small cluster of handmade coupons, all with little tasks on them. He laughs at the one for "one free orchestrated crisis, to get you out of doing that thing you don't wanna do."

It's incredibly sweet. Hal can feel his eyes burning and quickly shuffles every gift out of reach before he can cry all over them.

The most he'd hoped for when he realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Bruce was that his children would come to tolerate him, at best. He didn't want to replace anybody's parents or shoehorn himself into their lives if they didn't want him there.

But he grew on them. Somehow, someway, all these brilliant and smart and crafty kids looked at Hal and decided he was family. Decided he was Mom, originally as a joke, but nobody batted an eye when they all started using the title earnestly. It still floors him sometimes, how deeply and unconditionally he loves each and every one of them, how much fulfillment he experiences by getting to see them grow, change, and live their lives.

When he gets dressed for the day and comes downstairs to find them all sitting at the dining table, with a quiche waiting at his designated spot (because he has a designated spot! He's family, he's mom, these are his children!) , he holds up one of your coupons with a shaky hand.

"I'm cashing in the group hug! Right now!" He demands, and if his eyes are rimmed with pink then no one says anything. Jason rolls his eyes and hems and haws, and Damian wrinkles his nose and makes a comment about Hal obviously not having showered yet, but everyone gets up and encircles him tightly.

"Happy mother's day!" You beam, hugging Hal from the right side. Damian quietly echoes the sentiment on his left. Jason and Dick repeat it from behind, and Tim mutters it with a shy smile at his front.

"Thank you," Hal utters back, clutching as many of them as his arms will allow and squeezing tight.

[brie-annwyl]

Just thinking of some Batfam things

Tim Drake being left alone in a corner of a gala, his parents off talking up some investors for their dig in Egypt next week. Tim is alone, as always. It’s a usual sight if the drakes are present. No one even notices him.

But Tim noticed everyone.

Being alone does that, people watching is an easy way to occupy the lonely parts of your mind.

So when Tim turns and sees Bruce Wayne’s newly adopted son, always by his father’s side and receiving more love and affection in one night than Tim has ever received. One could say he’s jealous.

Jason Todd wasn’t perfect, he was loud, brash at times and it was obvious he never believed he belonged in this type of life. Yet he was so wanted- so loved. It sparked a violent jealousy and envy throughout his body.

Tim was perfect. He was made that way, he couldn’t be anything but perfect. He didn’t know how to be anything other than a quiet, agreeable, docile and unnoticeable child. But, that made him the perfect child for his parents. Never complaining, never whining. If he was lucky it would get him a hair ruffle by his father in public. Never in the estate though.

So when Tim would hear Jason whine it made him want to scream. Because even after he was so insufferable, Bruce Wayne still looked at him with affection and love, he’d hold his hand or wrap an arm around his shoulder.

And if Jason wanted to leave? The two were already out the door before jason could finish his sentence.

When Tim became Robin, he didn’t get the same Bruce that Jason had. The Bruce he had was borderline suicidal and hated Tim when he started as robin. Slowly, he became less angry, he got a little better, their relationship improved - slightly.

The one time Bruce had given him earnest physical affection was after an important mission. Tim had stayed out till 3 am on a school night to complete it, Bruce, always a father, insisted Tim stay over at the manor and Alfred would drive him to school the next day. Tim tried to fight against it.

Bruce ruffled his hair, his hand faltered as it easily glided across his head, as if a part of him half expected to find his hand carding through curls. As quickly as it started, it had stopped. Bruce’s formerly eased expression was gone, replaced by something a little more cold. Dead, if you will. He turned away whilst handing Tim a laptop and file.

“Make sure this report is finished before patrol tomorrow.”

As Alfred led Tim through the almost never ending halls of the manor, they pass by the family wing. Tim’s eyes catch onto a door with a Wonder Woman door plaque, the robin symbol written next to Jason’s name. It also didn’t take long for him to notice the matching plaque on Bruce’s door, except his was a robin plaque.

Tim is once again filled with an ugly rage.

Yeah, maybe Tim can admit he’s not to perfect.

Perfect boys don’t hate dead ones.