#tim drake did nothing wrong

[punkeropercyjackson]

Word of mouth really kept me away from Tim Drake comics at first.I joined the DC fandom due to becoming a Jason Todd stan from watching Utrh so naturally i heard all the usual anti Tim points-He's a spoiled ungrateful brat,he thinks he's better than everyone else and rubs it in their face at the most purposefully insensitive moments,he gets everything handed to him instead of earning it,he's a raging misogynist and white privilege on legs in a domino mask.But then i got around to reading his Robin run for Stephanie Brown,followed by 90s Young Justice and Red Robin,plus some misc main Batman stuff with him as a major player and it was like.This is Tim Drake,he sucks at everything but it works for him.He has no manners but he's not malicious,just oblivious and a control freak for what he believes is the best for everyone at the sacrifice of his own safety and health because he considers others worth more than him.He's genuinely hilarious and he's a legit skapunk and not a poser.Most of his important relathionships are with women and the only sexist things he says are very tame and rare compared to normie male teenagers and a product of their time rather than Tim's actual character.Almost all the adults in his life failed him so he has no good coping mechanisms and dosen't know what they look like on other people either so he can't properly socialize as a cause of it.He openly shows affection to all his loved ones in extremely cheesy ways sometimes with no shame and is so earnest and passionate about everything it gives secondhand embarrasment.All his fumbles were made with good intentions and the cast rarely properly communicates with him enough to help him fix that problem on him.The 'mistreatment of Damian' was acting like a petty teenager to his little brother and his 'superiority complex over Jason' is trumped by Jason beating him to a pulp as a grown ass man out of self-motivated 'vengeance' on someone he'd never met and who owed him nothing.Like damn,this that 'greasy white incel' y'all were talking about?

[haveihitanerve]

Tim finally snaps.

“Its not my fault you and Bruce didn't work out! Its yours. Im done being the excuse for all your mistakes, all your misgivings. Im Robin now. And Batman is mine. I was willing to share him with you, I wanted to, because of what you meant to him. But im done jason. I am done.”

[frogaroundandfindout]

Batman and Robin eternal #5

[vinelark]

tim rejecting kon as robin because he believes kon already rejected tim and so would be disappointed once he finds out....this is the worst ending yet...i love it....

(this scenario) listen, tim is so smart and strategic and logical and also (especially post-breakup/misunderstanding) would plan for every single outcome except the one where he is actually wanted

[laxxarian]

Tim Drake-centric fic prompt that I really really wanna read about specifically but can't find one

Where after Tim got beaten up by this new guy Red Hood, Tim already knew that he was Jason and let's Hood beat him up and after that, Tim plans to let Hood slowly come back to the family.

Just stable enough for Bruce and Jason to talk once more and that's when Tim will slowly fade from the Wayne family.

Tim believed himself as only a business partner, a colleague and employee, not a family. And besides, he only became Robin because Batman needed Robin but now that Red Hood came back, there was no need for Tim. But he has to stay for a few more days or so just in case (or maybe it's him not wanting to give this up).

And then Damien came who then pulled a Red Hood on Tim again for the Robin title.

Tim let's Damien have it by the end of it tho since he remembers that his original plan from the very beginning of becoming a Robin was to only help Batman stabilize and Batman seems to have got it already.

Now Tim starts to see the Wayne's less and less and the family starts to notice this too so they try and investigate (stalking) Tim by observing where he's going, what he does and what new hobbies his got going.

The family found him dating someone.

Or

The family caught Tim something something really big and surprising that I can't even say

[timcassie]

the journey from "clorinde is the most boring character ive ever seen" to "its not her fault and im stealing her from hoyo FOREVER" has been a crazy one but not one i really regret

[tjmsteph]

the misinterpretation of a lonely place of dying by later retellings drives me nuts because ‘tim finds out who batman is’ is nearly not as much of a big deal as ‘tim doesnt want to be robin’ in the actual origin and it pretty much sums up whats wrong with modern tim drake. ALPOD is a tragic story of a twelve year old boy who had everything and willingly gave it up for a greater good. he is not like dick and jason who became robin to escape tragedy nor bruce who had everything and then lost it. robin was nothing but a curse he accepted to bear and he did so because of his selflessness. that selflessness is his driving rod, his smarts and physical talent are only the tools he uses to achieve his goals. he is not ‘the smart one’, he is a sacrificial lamb for a cause he became an unwilling spectator of. a twelve year old boy thought ‘people need saving, its that simple’ and put on the clothes a dying kid not much older than him wore because of nothing more than his selflessness and everyone he loved paid the price for it. he paid an even greater price for it.

[kitkatscabinet]

YOUR WHAT?!

pairing(s): dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, stephanie brown, cassandra cain, kyle rayner, wally west, hal jordan x fem! reader.

summary: their reactions to the "current partner" trend.

a/n: mute Cass you are canon in my heart <3

DICK GRAYSON

[You step backwards from the camera, showing off the outfit you'd coordinated with Dick, trying to prevent yourself from bursting into a fit of giggles as you anticipate his reaction.]

"He wanted us to match, isn't my current boyfriend so cute!" You smile as you watch his reaction through the phone screen.

[The camera zooms in on your boyfriend, who immediately stumbles mid-step like you punched him, as his smile drops into a horrified stare.]

"Current???" He gasps, a hand clutching his heart dramatically. "I’ve met your family. I fold your laundry. I shared my dessert with you last night, willingly!"

You brace your hands on your knees, hunched over as you burst into laughter. You go to speak, but Dick's on a roll.

"No. No, no, no. I’m not some temporary man. I’m not a placeholder! I’m..." He sputters, trying to articulate his point as he waves an acussing finger at you "I'm an endgame boyfriend. The endgame boyfriend!"

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his back to sulk.

"Aw, is the endgame boyfriend gonna cry?" You hug him from behind, resting your cheek against him.

"Maybe."

[The camera cuts to a sulking Dick, drinking poutily from a mug you bought him earlier that says "#1 Boyfriend." Just managing to pick up his mumbled words.]

"Current boyfriend… ridiculous… I’m soulmate material"

JASON TODD

[You prop your phone up, resting it against your mug to show off your still groggy boyfriend who is currently mid-sip of coffee]

"Breakfast with my current boyfriend."

This instantly catches Jason's attention, making him cough a little as he lowers the mug. "…The current what now?"

"Boyfriend." You beam, as if nothing in the world is wrong.

He squints as you, his coffee long forgotten. "See that's what I thought I heard, current boyfriend, but I must be wrong. What happened to 'ride or die'? What happened to you’re it for me, Jay'? Did I hallucinate all of that?"

"Hon, relax."

But he cuts you off, "No, no, no. See, now I’m wondering if I need to get my duffle bag and my helmet and hit the road. Am I getting replaced? Are you conducting auditions behind my back?"

"Oh, here we go." You mutter under your breath as Jason stands and begins pacing.

"I’m tall, I give the best hugs, I'm rich." He pauses and just when you think he's done he spins to face you. "I read! I literally read books. That's like a dreamboat hobby. What more do you want from me?"

"Babe. It’s a tiktok trend. It’s literally a joke." You giggle.

[You pick up the camera, zooming in on his squinting face as he freezes]

"…I better be the final boyfriend. I swear to God." He grumbles and your heart melts a little.

"You are, honey. You're the last one." You stand, leaning in to kiss him softly.

"Damn right I am. Put that in the caption. Tattoo it on your forehead. I will not be dethroned by some stupid trend." He huffs, but doesn't hesitate to recieve your affection.

TIM DRAKE

[You're leaning against the headboard, Tim resting his face against your stomach, his arms wrapped around your waist as you hold your phone out to the side.]

"Y'all wanted him in more content, so here he is, the current boyfriend."

It takes a few second for your words to register, but when they do he lifts his head to stare at you so quickly he nearly snaps his neck.

"A, wha? ah!" He sputters, his mouth taking even longer to catch on.

"Ah, wha? Lipstick in my Valentino white bag?" You mocked and the glare he threw you was mutinous.

"You're such a bitch."

You raise a brow, "Oh, so we're updating that status to ex-boyfriend?"

"You wouldn't." When you simply stare at him, his face drops a little. tone turning more uncertain, "...would you?"

You let the charade continue for a few more seconds before his deadly puppy eyes do you in and you drop a kiss to his forehead.

"No, baby. Never."

With your confirmation that no, you weren't breaking up with him, the brattiness abruptly returns.

"Ha, knew you didn't have the balls to leave me." He crows, and you roll your eyes, shoving him off you and consequently the bed when he tries to snuggle back into you.

STEPHANIE BROWN

[The video starts selfie style, with you standing behind Steph, still dressed in her fuzzy hello kitty pyjamas, as she pours herself a bowl of cereal.]

"So, here she is, the current girlfriend."

[Stephanie freezes mid-bite, turning to look at the camera in sheer disbelief]

"…Current?" You try not to laugh at her reaction but a few giggles slip out and Steph launches into a tirade.

"CURRENT?! Like I’m a seasonal limited-time offer?! Babe, what is this, a McRib romance?!"

"Would you prefer ‘temporary live-in menace with nice legs’?" you tease.

"Okay first of all, accurate. Second of all, current?! Babe, I’ve already picked our wedding colors. I’ve named our hypothetical cats! I have a whole pinterest board dedicated to our future life together!"

"Steph—"

"CURRENT?!? I'll kick you in the fucking head!" She grouses, forgetting her cereal as she storms off in a dramatic huff.

CASSANDRA CAIN

[You and Cass are cuddled together on the couch surrounded by fluffy pillows and blankets. She smiles softly and leans into your side when she notices the camera.]

"Date night with with my current girlfriend."

You feel the way she stiffens against you and instantly regret your words. The TikTok long forgotten, as you turn your full attention to your girlfriend.

"Hey, love, I didn’t mean it like that. It's a stupid TikTok trend. You’re not just some current flavour of the month, you’re my person. Always."

[Cass blinks, the tiniest smile breaking through her usually serious expression. She reaches out and squeezes your hands softly, before pulling back to sign an "I love you"]

You beam, leaning your forehead against hers, you're stomach erupting into butterflies as you thought about the ring you had hidden inside your pillow.

KYLE RAYNER

[Kyle sits across from you, paintbrush in his hand as he focuses intently on the canvas in front of him.]

"Painting the cats with my current boyfriend, look at him go!" You laughed as he looked up at you with a dopily in love grin, before he registers what you've just said.

"Wait. Current Boyfriend?" His brow furrowed as he put down his brush. "Current boyfriend cause we're gonna get married and then I'll be your husband right? Right?"

He looks like a kicked puppy and you stand, moving around to slide into his lap.

[The phone's discarded on the table but it still records the conversation]

"Yeah, baby, we'll get married." You hum, hokking your arms around his neck.

"Oh, that's good, should I go and get the ring I bought a few months ago then?"

"Kyle?!"

HAL JORDAN

[You’re walking through your apartment, filming, Hal is in the kitchen wearing sweats and an obnoxious tank top that says 'welcome to the gun show.' He's making pancakes while humming something off-key.]

"Fit check with my current boyfriend!"

Hal smirks, turning to face the camera. "Damn right. Look at this—pilot, sexy, short stack master... wait." He squinted, analysing your previous sentence. "Hold on. Back up. Current?"

[You try to keep the camera steady as he turns around fully, eyes squinting like you just told him Batman’s funnier than he is.]

"Current boyfriend?? Excuse me?? I—I live with you. We have two cats together, is that what you're telling our sons I am?"

You practically howl with laughter at his meltdown, "It’s just a trend!"

But it's like he doesn't even hear you, too busy on his warpath. "I fixed the leaky faucet. That’s not ‘current boyfriend’ behavior, that’s husband energy."

[He points dramatically at the pancakes sizzling in the pan.]

"That right there? That’s commitment. That’s ‘I’ll be there in your 80s cutting your meds into quarters’ energy."

[The camera cuts to show you sitting with your face resting against your palm as Hal continues to pace in the background, widly gesticualting.]

"Just a current boyfriend... The betrayal..."

WALLY WEST

[You're sitting on the couch, flipping the camera to show off an unsupecting Wally sitting cross legged on the carpet as he works on constructing the $1000 Lego Millenium Falcon you'd gifted him.]

"Y'all look what a nerd my current boyfriend is."

[Wally pauses. His head turns slowly like a confused golden retriever.]

"...Current?...Current?! Babe. Babe. What do you mean current? Did I miss a breakup?! Are you firing me?! I just bought us matching toothbrushes!”

"Well, technically you are the current one." You tease.

"That makes it sound like there could be a next one! You think you can upgrade from this?" He runs a hand down his body. "Limited edition! No returns!"

"You're right. Nobody wants to take the model back anyway." You snort.

[He clutches his chest like he's been shot, fake-sobbing as he collapses against the carpet.]

"We made a spreadsheet for potential baby names just for fun! What about Wallace junior huh?"

"No child of mine will be named Wallace." You deadpan, humour momentarily forgotten until he suddenly crawls toward you, making it impossible not to laugh.

[He buries his face into your lap, and you burst out laughing, pulling him into a hug while he dramatically clings to you like dead weight.]

[leafbowl]

You know that thing bikers do when they see a police car? The tap on their helmets? Yeah so Arsenal, Red Hood, Red Robin and Spoiler (who I think are the only ones who ride motorbikes outside of their vigilante personalities) do it whenever they see Nightwing. And you better believe it makes others so fucking confused.

Nightwing: *Drops down into the fight.*

Red Hood: *Stops everything he's doing to tap the top of his helmet.*

Spoiler: *Sees it and then stops to do it too.*

Red Robin: *Gets a giddy little grin and starts tapping the top of his head.*

Thugs: *All collectively very confused.*

Thug #1: Wha... What're they doin'?

Thug #2: Uhh I dunno.

Thug #3: Hey, isn't that what bikers do when they see a cop?

Thug #2: Nah. Nightwing's not a cop, dumbass.

Thug #1: Yeah, he's a vigilante. Wha's he need with bein' a cop?

Thug #3: But he's the type to snitch tho.

Thug #1: Well... I guess. Maybe that's why they do it, cuz he's such a snitch.

Thug #2: *shrugs* Maybe.

Thugs #3: Uh, guys...

Thug #2: What?

Thug #3: Ya 'ere that?

Thug #1: *Pauses but doesn't hear anything.* Uh nah.

Thug #3: Exactly. Where'd the fightin' sounds go?

Thug #2: Shit.

The fighting had stopped because everyone else had been taken care of. The batfam had just been waiting for them to finish their conversation like Alfred taught them to. He would be proud. Probably of the broken and fractured bones that followed. Well, he'd be proud of their technique, they reckoned. (To be honest, Alfred would be proud no matter what.)

Arsenal: So he just... told you all to stop?

Red Hood: *Shrugs.* Pretty much.

Red Robin: I don't get why B wants us to stop using 'dick' as a term of endeerment. It's a compliment! Being like Dick is the highest honour.

Red Hood: And that has nothing to do with the fact the Baby Wonder finds it infuriating?

Red Robin, grinning: Cassie hating it is an upside, I won't lie.

Nightwing: *Drops down next to where they're all gathered on a roof.* Hey guys, sorry I'm late, I-

Red Hood:

Arsenal:

Spoiler:

Red Robin:

Robin:

Orphan:

Nightwing: Uh guys? *Starts sweating because there's something wrong with the way they're all blankly staring at him.* How- how's everyone?

Red Hood: *Starts tapping helmet.*

Nightwing: *So concerned that something's wrong he doesn't clock it right away so he just stares, a crease forming between his eyebrows.*

Red Robin: *Taps against his hair.*

Nightwing: Wait a sceond-

Arsenal, Spoiler: *Taps their heads.*

Robin and Orphan: *Looks at each other. Holds eye contact and then starts tapping their heads to fuck with Nightwing.*

The next day a photo of Nightwing standing with his head bowed in defeat whilst being surrounded by Red Hood, Arsenal, Red Robin, Robin, Spoiler and Orphan who are all patting their heads is trending. People think they're in some kind of cult and that they were either sacraficing Nightwing or they were summoning something. The fact that Nightwing isn't spotted for the next week makes everyone lean towards the sacraficing.

(Jason made him promise he would play into the bit by not going out and letting his friends and/or his siblings patrol his city. Dick has never been good at saying no to his little brother. And, come on, Dick fucking loved the idea of people thinking he was being sacraficed. Also, he doesn't mind the head patting. Batman was the only one who thought it might reveal his identity. Dick was with Stephanie on it all, really. There was no way people would connect him to Nightwing and if they did, it's not like anyone else would believe them.)

It gets to the point that it's not even to fuck with Batman anymore. It becomes a normal greeting, something that bleeds into their civillian lives. People understand it more when it's directed at Dick Grayson but it's very endeering to see it. It all fuels all the Bruceman shippers when Tim Drake-Wayne is caught doing it to Nightwing.

[hanimanny]

SHE'S BARBIE, AND HES JUST… TIM?

a.k.a Bruce notices the many upgrades Tim's been getting since your arrival.

tags: Tim Drake x reader (established relationship), Bruce Wayne x platonic!reader, crack, pretty bird is a certified genius!!!

word count: 2.2k , likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

It first started when Bruce and Tim—in the furry persona—went out on a reconnaissance mission gone wrong.

It was a trap! The blueprints for a deadly android able to possess and control whatever tech exists was rumored to be lurking around this area is nowhere to be seen, and instead, they were greeted with an army of robots. Old prototypes, tank-like and bulky, nothing like they were searching for but still extremely difficult to deal with. 

The robots had surrounded them, and the usual method of overloading them wouldn't work, not with this kind—they were clearly built to take a beating. 

While Batman fights expertly as he does, brute-forcing his way through by ripping out their motherboards, Red Robin takes a different approach. 

He takes his bo-staff, which looks a bit different from his usual one—glowing a faint blue light at its tips—and hums as it spins (yes, like a lightsaber) and tags the robots. 

He rapidly taps the bots with his staff while simultaneously avoiding the attacks targeted at him until he reaches the other side of the warehouse, tagging at least half of the robots. 

With a click of his bo-staff, all the robots drop dead, as if life has been sucked out of them. 

Strange, what the heck did Red Robin do? 

Soon, like a domino effect, the nearby robots to the dead ones drop as well, as if they were infected with the same virus Tim had infected them with. 

“Batman, the nano-virus will only incapacitate them; they’ll wake up in the next hour,” Red Robin informs as he takes the end of his bo-staff and stabs it through a robot's chest—destroying the motherboard.

Nanovirus? When did he come up with that? Sure, the idea of nanotech was prevalent, especially in this day and age, but quick-acting nanotechnology that was able to instantly incapacitate any tech—be it only for an hour—is incredible. 

Batman nods, keeping it in mind to question Red Robin during the debrief, and continues to destroy the robots. 

But the debrief wasn’t helpful at all. Tim was being as elusive as ever, which he thinks he picked up from himself. Saying that the Nano-Virus was a random project that he wanted to try out, that it wasn’t supposed to work this well. 

Overcompensating. Tim’s trying to hide something. He may be great at keeping his tone varied and avoiding detailed explanations that would definitely raise flags, but Bruce is the greatest detective alive and can see through anything. 

Bruce gives Tim a stern scolding. Tell him that he needs to be informed of anything, even if he’s just on a trial. It may have worked this time, but the future is always unforeseen, then dismisses him. 

He’ll get to the bottom of this. 

The next time Bruce sees changes, it’s in Tim’s demeanor. 

He’s been brighter; not that he wasn’t happy before, but Tim has been more chipper. He could assume that was from having a girlfriend—the girl who works as one of the lead biotechnology engineers at Wayne Enterprises, who somehow pulled a Tim (it’s what the kids are calling it) and discovered all their identity in the first week of meeting them. Bruce would lie if he said he wasn’t impressed, especially with how you had no prior experience with being a detective (aside from doxxing people in your teenage years). 

The stress of not needing to hide who and what you are from the person you love is surely elating, but that wasn’t it (maybe partially). 

Maybe bright isn’t the term to describe it… It’s more like he’s free. 

Tim sat on the couch, nursing a large bright red Stanley cup in one hand—probably filled with an ungodly amount of caffeine—and the TV remote in the other. 

“You normally watch in your room.” Bruce's voice breaks the silence between Tim and the paused movie on the flatscreen. Tim peaks over his shoulder, as if he had to make sure that the deep stoic voice belonged to Bruce. 

“Sup B, I do, but Birdie wants the big screen experience—like my room doesn’t have it,” he scoffs as he takes a glug of his drink. 

Bruce nods as he observes Tim further. “You seem less stressed,” he prompts. 

“Yeah, Birdie came up with an A.I able to sort the paperwork and get background checks on every company that wants to make a proposal with WE, so I got less on my plate.” Tim sighs, as if he doesn’t have a pile of untouched cases back at the batcave. “Did you know we have at least 250 fraudulent companies trying to make deals with us? Insane,” he mumbles before his lips are back in the cup. 

“Also, she has me drinking more than 8 cups of water a day; I’ve never felt more alive.” Tim rattles the Stanley cup, hearing the clashing of ice against its metal walls, before again, taking a fat swig. 

Bruce’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and not because of Tim’s unhealthy habits (maybe just a little actually). Not only were you able to convince Tim away from his horrible caffeine addiction, although he was still skeptical about the front, but you were able to come up with a program that passes Tim’s savant expectations. 

You would be a great asset to the league, especially now because you know their identities. 

You walk into the living room, startled, as you’d been dead in your tracks at the doorway. 

Your eyes flick towards Bruce, then Tim, then back at Bruce, then Tim. and then—

You’ll never get used to Bruce’s intimidating aura. 

“H-hello, Mr. Bruce Wayne, sir,” you stumble out and… bow? What the heck! You inwardly cringe at your action as you pull yourself up, gripping the bowl of popcorn with an unprecedented amount of strength. 

Tim chuckles at your words, and Bruce settles a gentle smile on his lips because—after an extensive background check on—you truly are as sweet as Tim describes. 

“Didn’t I say to call me, Bruce?”

Your face pales as if you’ve committed the greatest sin alive, as you visibly gulp (at least he still has his intimidation skills). “Yes, Bruce Wayne—I mean, just Bruce,” you nod as your eyes flick at Tim, who reads your mind (but I mean, it’s clear what you’re trying to do). 

“Say, Bruce, do you want to join us for our movie date?” Tim asks, and your face loses all its color at this point. Bruce laughs softly at the comedy of the moment and shakes his head for your sake: “It’s okay, you kids have fun.” 

You wait for Bruce to take his leave, bowing again (seriously, would you stop doing that!). before you scurry off to Tim’s welcoming side, letting out a mixture between a whine and a groan of embarrassment. 

Bruce will save the interrogation for later, saving you the trouble of passing out due to fear and embarrassment. 

Before he's completely out of earshot, Bruce picks up the lingering conversation between the two of you. 

“He's my boss!”

“I’m your boss.”

“That’s different; you’re a loser.” 

“rude”

“Cry about it, furry.”

“Technically, Bruce calls himself Batman, so he’s also—

“If you ever tell him I said that, I'll be sure to put laxatives in all your foods.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The last innovation that goes under his nose happens, literally, under his nose. or more so the batcave. 

Scarecrow escaped, fear gas smothering the streets, and everyone is in the bat cave preparing to leave for the battlefield. 

Gearing up in his quarters, Bruce—moments before the cowl is up—sees you whispering frantically to Tim, who’s dressed in his own kevlar gear—besides the mask—consoling you gently. 

You seem nervous, more nervous than you normally are when he’s in your vicinity. You’re holding a metallic case to your chest, mumbling something he can’t quite hear. 

Then Tim speaks up, “Bruce!” Not just Bruce looks at him; the others do too—Dick, Damian, and Alfred. Tim then ushers you in front of him, and the way you clutch onto the briefcase makes you seem like a little bird. 

“Come on, pretty bird, you know it’ll work,” he encourages, and you take the deepest breath known to man. 

“I made a vaccination for fear gas.” You start, your shoulders squaring as you stare directly at Bruce, “It blocks any foreign neurotransmitters from pursuing infiltration, so think of it as antibodies for a virus. You inhale it just like fear gas, and you will be immune; it's viable for any variation of fear gas—because I designed it to be fast-adapting—for 24 hrs.”

“Of course, it does vary between everyone’s metabolism, and it must adapt to you first, so for it to work I need to infuse it with your DNA,” you mumble the last part out. 

“And how are you sure it’ll work?”

“I tested it out on myself, which is a very invalid trial, but I promise you, Bruce W.-Bruce, it’ll work.” There's a glint of determination in your eye. Bruce pauses at that and stares at you with his iconic glare. “We’ll discuss this when we get back; how do you administer the DNA?”

Your meek demeanor slowly leaves you as you perk at his acceptance, scurrying away from Tim and towards Bruce. “You just need to prick your finger, wait a minute for everything to infuse, and use it like you use an inhaler,” you instruct as you crouch down to open the case. 

You get to work, pricking Bruce first, then Dick, and with much reluctance from Damian, him as well. 

“Why isn’t Drake taking one?” Damian calls out as you hand the inhaler to the boy. 

You glance over to Tim, who's already looking at you: “Umm… I kinda sorta… already took it.” Bruce deadpans and glares and sighs all at the same time. Tim braces himself for a lecture, but it doesn't come. 

“We don't have time. Let's go.

Bruce turns away, pulling his cowl on, but not before he sees you launch yourself into Tim’s arms in a fit of relief. 

“I can't believe I did that.”

“I can. You're one of a kind, Pretty Bird.”

Bruce huffs and shakes his head. 

…

When they all return, they are much less banged up than they normally are. Your vaccine worked wonders; although temporary, this innovation is amazing! The pathways that have opened are endless; you truly are incredible.

Bruce, of course, forces you to sit through the debrief, which was actually not that bad. Hearing that your vaccine worked way better than expected fills your chest with pride. You can't help but steal glances from Tim, who is fully locked in Red Robin mode right now and doesn't even spare you a glance, but he does give your thigh a little squeeze, something to tell you that he is proud. 

The lectures you receive, on the other hand… You don't know how Tim does it; sit through it with a straight face. You're sitting with your wits tight, breath held, and sweat dripping down your temple. You blink in a daze as you listen to Batman drone about safety, teamwork, and the ethics of self-experimentation and how you should definitely not do it. 

You don't notice the pause in the lecture, zoned out completely to save your heart the trouble of all the anxiety. Although your name coming out of Batman’s mouth surely draws you back into reality. Your eyes focus again, and you’re met with Batman’s infamous gaze.

“Yes?” You squeak out, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Do you want to work for me?” 

You blink owlishly, and your brows furrow in confusion, giving Tim a glance, who only shrugs in response. 

“Um, Mr. Bruce… I already am… working for you— I mean.

“No, as a family physician, I've seen all your degrees: board-certified doctor, surgeon, and PhD in multiple fields. You can work from the manor as well. It's convenient that you already know all our identities and the inner workings of this family. I've also seen the tech upgrades you've given Tim. I believe you will be a great asset.” 

Tim clears his throat, and Bruce spares him a glance. 

“Great addition,” he corrects himself. 

You're bubbling in your spot next to Tim, like a volcano ready to erupt. 

“I would love to work with you all,” you reply back, but it's obvious you're trying to keep your composure in front of Bruce. 

“You can let loose, Pretty Bird, B doesn't bite,” you erupt with permission from Tim. But what neither man expects is for you to launch yourself into Bruce, squeeze him like a giant teddy bear, and let out a string of thank yous. 

Tim is stuck between a state of horror, adoration, and relief watching you hug Bruce with all your might. He didn't know whether to stop you, cheer you on, or simply pass out. 

“I won't let you down, Bruce!” You pull away, and there's a bright gleam in your eye, something that Gotham lacks entirely. 

Where the hell did Tim find this girl?

“Let's go, Duckie!” 

And you're off, pulling Tim along, who’s sporting a lovesick grin. 

The adventures of Pretty bird (shenanigans revolving you and Tim's family)

[dollishmehrayan]

WEIRD THINGS BATBOYS DO WHEN THEY LIKE YOU ── .✦

a/n: this is a request + ask so tysm to whoever sent that but it’s (here) but anyways I’m so excited for my birthday on december 7th this year and it’s just so beautiful to see me grow up honestly and find myself. (Tags: batboys x crush!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Excessive Flexing (Literally): Dick will "accidentally" do pull-ups in front of you. He’s already shirtless and grinning, saying, “Oh, didn’t see you there. Wanna join?”

Compliment Overload: “Is that a new hairstyle? New shoes? You look incredible. Oh, wait, you always look incredible.” He will literally point out your eyelashes looking perfect “wow so nice, your lashes are so long and beautiful.”

The Over-Helper: He suddenly insists on helping you with everything—carrying bags, opening jars, lifting heavy stuff—and does it with the biggest, dorkiest smile. “It’s no big deal, bab- I mean—uh… friend.”

Trips Over Air: He’s graceful in battle, but near you? He’s knocking over coffee cups and walking into doorframes. "I swear, I’m usually coordinated, maybe I’m falling for you?😉”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Overly Cool Persona: He tries to play it cool, acting like he doesn’t care. But then he’ll text you at 3 a.m. with, “U up? I found a meme that reminded me of you.”

Teases You Constantly: Jason’s version of flirting is lightly roasting you. “Did you really think that outfit would work today?” But if anyone else says something, he’s ready to fight.

Surprise Gifts: He’ll give you something like your favorite snack but pretend it’s no big deal. “I just had extra,” he’ll mumble, even though he went to three stores to find it.

Blushes Like Crazy: He’s all tough-guy until you compliment him, and then it’s over. He gets red and stammers, “Shut up,” while smiling like an idiot.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Awkward Genius Mode: He’s smart with everything… except his crush. Suddenly, forming coherent sentences is a challenge. “I-I mean, uh… yeah, computers.”

Googles 'How to Flirt': You’ll catch him peeking at his phone mid-conversation because he’s literally reading “Flirting 101” or reading Reddit threads on flirting gone wrong.

Coffee Delivery: He’ll bring you coffee with your exact order memorized and pretend it’s casual. “Oh, you like this too? Weird coincidence.” It’s not. He asked around for hours.

Accidentally Compliments You: He’ll blurt out, “You smell nice.” Pause. “I mean, not that I’m sniffing you or anything!” Cue him turning bright red and hiding behind his laptop.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends He Doesn’t Care: He’ll act indifferent but secretly monitors everything you do. “I don’t care what you do,” he says while glaring at someone standing too close to you.

Suddenly Overly Polite: Damian, the king of sass, becomes weirdly respectful. “Would you like me to carry that for you? No? Okay. Are you sure?”

Gives You Fancy Gifts: He gifts you rare, expensive things like hand-picked flowers from the Wayne estate garden. “It’s not a big deal. Just take it.”

Random Acts of Bravery: He’ll jump in front of a moving bicycle or push you out of the way of a puddle, then act like it was nothing. “It was instinct. Don’t be dramatic.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Becomes an Awkward flirt: He’s smooth in public but completely loses it around his crush. “Do you need anything? No? Water? A chair?” He’s offering things you don’t need.

Over-Explains Everything: Bruce will start talking about something mundane and give a full TED Talk. “Well, you see, the Batmobile’s engine is unique because…” You just wanted to know if it had cup holders.

Subtle Touches: He’ll brush your hand “accidentally” or adjust your coat collar, lingering just a second too long. But if you call him out, he’ll stammer, “I thought you were cold.”

Silent Protector: He’ll stand silently in the background, watching like a brooding guardian angel. If anyone flirts with you, his jaw clenches like it’s personal.

Bonus: Dumb Things They ALL Do ── .✦

Group Text Fiascos: They’ll text each other for advice, and it always goes wrong.

Jason: “Should I call her pretty or hot?”

Tim: “Say she’s breathtaking. It’s classier.”

Dick: “Just tell her you love her.”

Damian: “You’re all fools.”

Bruce (accidentally replying to all): “…Delete this.”

Staring Too Long: Every single one of them will stare at you for too long, only to awkwardly look away when you notice. They’ll try to play it off, but you know they were looking.

Clumsy Idiots: They’ll all try to do something impressive—lift something heavy, show off their fighting skills—and it’ll backfire hilariously. But the effort is adorable.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Gotham's romance theory.

Danny is used to the theories circulating on the internet about him. Or rather about Danny Phantom. Anything ranging from him being an ancient god safeguarding some aspect of nature to Phantom being a manifestation of children's mischief.

His adventures with Clockwork and through the Ghost Zone had Danny popping up in various times throughout the course of history. No one could pinpoint when, where, or why Phantom appeared in myths and legends. Some people even argued that those ancient records spoke of another being because Phantom's diction was far too modern.

Danny thought it was a little bit hilarious to witness. He stumbled across a few forums the summer after freshman year and now hosts bi-weekly hangout nights where Tucker, Sam, and he scroll through the post to read to each other the most outrageous ones. Those nights usually end in laughter, so strong Danny's abs ache the next day.

His most recent favorite was the conspiracy theories posted by some guy in Gotham under the username , Bernard'sCookingTheories.

Apparently, Gotham had a "city spirit," a manifestation of a citizen's own will, and it went by the name Lady Gotham. According to the theorist, there were records of Lady Gotham appearing in Old Gotham back when it was known as New Gotham, walking around in a gown of smoke and face always covered by large hat. One would only be able to spot her at twilight, right as the world is bathed in Lady Gotham's darkness, and spotting her is a bad omen.

She used to bring her people good fortunate until her heart grew as clouded as her polluted sky, when Phantom-Prince of the Afterlife- broke her heart.

Danny was honestly surprised by how close Bernard'sCookingTheories actually got to his royal status, but he certainly never had a whirlwind romance with Lady Gotham, ending with him cheating on her. He doesn't even think Lady Gotham exists, but he appreciated the amount of research that the author put into thier posts.

If he didn't know the truth, Danny might have believed the theory, too. There was a lot of compelling proof Bernard'sCookingTheories dug up.

Danny visited Bernard's page, often checking in on more theories that involved the other heroes of the world and Phantom. He decided to make a PowerPoint to show Tucker and Sam at their next Hangout night with nothing but Bernard's blog content.

He clicked on it often throughout the day in those two weeks, hoping for updates on various theories like he was checking for new chapters in a story.

He never knew that Bernard's page was closed watched by his paranoid boyfriend, Tim Drake, who placed a tracker of who visited his lover's page. It was meant to ensure Tim's enemies - like Ra's- wasn’t bothering his civilian boyfriend, even if it was something as simple stalking his social media's.

When he got the alart, he almost threw on his Red Robin outfit in the middle of a meeting until he realized it was just a new fan of Bernard's brilliant mastery of the written word.

He did find it odd that a random guy in Amity Park, Illinois, was looking at Bernard's stuff so often. He wouldn't blame the guy if he fell for his lover's good looks- Bernard was one the handsomest man to ever grace this world , how could anyone not fall for him?- but he never posted a photo that wasn't proof of his research.

Maybe the stranger really liked the context, but Tim didn't think it was a coincidence that this person was in Phantom's well-known stomping grounds looking up theories of Phantom. He followed the IP to the origins, finding himself face to face with the son of the local ghost hunters location.

Well.....he never told Bernard, but he often thought his boyfriend's theories were cute and entirely wrong. However, if he was right, then he was arming Fenton with the means to kill a legend. Who knew what Prince Phantom's destruction would bring?

Not to mention what his undead court would do to Bernard. He doubts they would accept his boyfriend hadn't meant to bring the Prince harm.

Tim has only one choice.

He had to get Lady Gotham and Phantom back together so the powerful spirit would leave Amity Park and be safe without painting a target on Bernard.

Or he could get Fenton to move to Gotham and get away from Phantom.

Hmmm but how?

"Tim! My blog just got this new fan that's been talking about it without making fun of me! He agrees with me! He even messaged me to ask more about local urban legends. Which ones should I send? The one about Brown Bridge Lost Soul Mist or Batman being a reverse vampire? " Bernard practically skips into his outfit, looking utterly delighted. Tim's heart melts at the sight, feeling a goofy smile stretched across his face as his boyfriend babbles and then....it hits him.

"Bernard, how would you feel able opening a museum with me? It'll be all about Gotham's urban legends" Tim says lacing his finger under his chin, and grinning like a cat.

"Is this a proposal? Because my answer is yes"

Tim's grin stretches wider. "Wonderful. I know just who would love to help us set up the museum."

After all, he had noticed Fenton applied to multiple exchange programs at his school. He didn't get a single one, but that at least guarantees he would jump at a chance get out of Amity Park.

Once he was in Gotham, Tim left it up to Bernard to make him stick around. His boyfriend could get Batman to yield to one of his plans—at the time, he thought he was convincing Batman to help him save Tim, not Red Robin. Then, he could get anyone to agree to anything.

While Bernard worked on Fenton, Tim would hunt down Phantom and get him to rekindle his romance with a city's spirit.

[melloollem]

Secrets in the family|| Bruce Wayne × Batmom reader × Batboys

Summary:Your children start an interrogation after noticing that you were hiding papers from them.

Warning: Comfort, silly story, Platonic relationship with the batboys.

(Dc masterlist)

"Aren't you old enough to leave home? What are you still doing here?" The shout from your youngest son caused your attention to wander for a moment from the papers in front of you, but not enough to stop you writing frantically.

"I lived here long before they knew you existed" Tim's reply was heard from an even closer distance, a sign that you would soon see them entering the kitchen, you began to collect the papers hoping that the heated discussion would be enough for them not to notice you.

"Yeah, you lived in my house as a favor, tell me something I don't know" Damian walked in front of Tim, being the first to enter the room. You tried to move slowly in retreat, deciding to head for the dining room, where you'd have a bit of silence.

"I didn't live on favor, I was adopted, they wanted me, you know what I mean?" Tim's cheeky reply came out quickly, taking Damian by surprise.

"Mom, did you hear that?" They both turned their heads in your direction, hindering your escape plan. Damian looked at you anxiously, waiting for you to scold his brother and Tim looked at you scared, like he'd been caught doing something wrong.

"Timothy, that's not something you say to your brother, say you're sorry" You said the sentence so quickly that it didn't even sound like a complaint, walking out of the room.

You heard a cynical laugh from Tim behind you followed by a "She doesn't care", drawing a tired sigh from you. "It's not that, I just don't have time for you acting like five-year-olds. Damian, my son, Tim doesn't live here as a favor, he's as much my son as you and Tim, darling, don't say those things to your brother, Damian was as wanted by me as you or any of your brothers. Boys, I'm busy" You made the whole speech without slowing down, heading towards the dining room. The sound of footsteps behind you made it certain that the boys were following you. You let out a tense sigh, anticipating the questioning session.

"What are you doing that's more important than us?" Damian asked in an authoritative tone unaccustomed to you involving yourself so little in their quarrel.

"What are those papers?" Tim asked from beside her, much quicker to catch up than Damian and his short frame. "Nothing important." "If it's nothing important, why did you say you were busy?" Timothy retorted quickly.

"Okay, go back to discussing it in another room and enough of this interrogation," you said at the end of your walk, ready to return to your previous activity, dropping the papers on the table. "Tell us what these papers are," Damian said, standing next to Tim in front of you.

"Are those the divorce papers?" Dick said with a humorous tone of voice, as he joined you in the room, leaving everyone confused by his sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?" Damian was quick to ask. With all eyes glued to your eldest son, you saw the perfect opportunity to slip discreetly out of the dining room.

"I'm here to finalize some reports with - where are you going?" Dick said, drawing all attention back to you, a grunt of frustration escaping your lips, but you were determined to finish your notes, turning your back on your children, determined to find somewhere minimally quiet in the house.

"Are those Drake's and Todd's adoption papers? Are you going to burn them?" Damian asked, receiving a shove from Tim and a low laugh from Dick in response. The boys' pursuit hadn't stopped, only gained more momentum now that their eldest son was also part of it.

"What are you doing?" Cassandra asked, she was heading in the opposite direction to you, possibly to the training room, based on her clothes.

"We're chasing Mom to find out what she's hiding" replied Damian "Cool" said Cassandra, joining the group. "Mom?" "Yes, dear" Now you were climbing the stairs, heading towards the second floor of the house, you already knew where you could finish your notes in peace, away from the children's questions.

"Give me the papers, please" You let out a small laugh at the girl's request "No, but you were very polite to ask, congratulations" Even without success, Cassandra gave a small smile in response to the compliment.

"Bye, kids" You smiled as you found the door you were looking for. Before the door was completely closed, you could hear your children sigh in frustration that the chase was over, you thanked Bruce for making the office a forbidden place, now you understood the reason for this rule.

"What are you doing?" Bruce's sudden voice didn't scare you, you were used to your husband's sudden appearances. "Running away from the children," you said, sitting down in the chair opposite Bruce's desk.

You started distributing your papers on the table in an organized way so that they wouldn't get mixed up with your husband's documents and for the first time since you entered the room he looked up from the documents he was reviewing.

"What's this?" He asked, picking up one of the papers on the table. "They're really your children," Bruce ignored his comment. "Letters? For what reason?" "Yeah, I'm planning to run away and leave you with the kids" Your joke was met by a serious look from Bruce. "You're not as funny as you think" Bruce said. "Sorry, should I leave the jokes with-?" "Don't even finish that one".

"Why letters?" Bruce said, looking at you like he was being interrogated. "Why not? They're just letters, no big deal." You knew that your anxious rambling had given you away, this was not only one of the best detectives in the world, but also your husband.

"You don't want to tell me?" He was being understanding, but you knew he'd rather know. You took a deep breath before saying, "I'm just afraid of the future." "And does writing letters help?"

"I hope it helps them in the future" Bruce frowned at your answer. "Has something happened, dear?" He asked worriedly. Noticing your husband's fear, you grabbed his hand that was resting on the table "No, not at all" Your tone came out as sweet as possible "I just... I want them to have something to fall back on in the future, that's all, nothing bad has happened, it's just-" Your speech was cut off by a few knocks on the door, followed by the entrance of Alfred the butler.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, the children want to see you, Mrs. Wayne" you thanked the butler for the announcement and turned towards your husband again "I have to go, I'll need a good excuse for them to stop asking questions" You got up and left the room, mentally preparing yourself for the bombardment of questions.

[rapplesart]

Random fic idea

Tim drake but instead of loosing his spleen he lost part of his leg.

Tim thought it was obvious he was missing his right leg from the knee down. It was a whole leg that was missing after all. Sure he was wearing a prosthetic made by Ra's' best people.

One he painfully earned after that crazy fucker made him fight a bunch of his assassins one legged in order to "proof himself as the true heir of the bat he saw in him" or something. So sure, the leg might be more advanced than most, and it imitated natural steps a lot easier and even made it possible to easily run without switching to a different leg. Truly it was a perfect leg be vigilante with. But he never even bothered to give it human like appearances.

But apparently the Fam didn't notice. When he returned with Bruce everyone was too reliefed to give Tim a closer look and it just never came up afterwards.

Tim thought they just didn't want to ask about it in a weird attempt of being polite or even caring. Bruce surely did enough research on how it happened on his own. The man spend the whole travel back to Gotham with Tim after all. Tim truly believed the world's greatest detective would have noticed his missing leg.

Except he didn't. Not if he interpreted the way they looked so incredibly disturbed by is nonchalant way of handlinh the boiling hot chemicals that landed on his metal leg. He just brushed it off, the battle continued and since nothing seemed to be injured no one pressed him when he said "Must've missed me after all"

Now, how do you deal with a family that didn't notice you're missing a leg? That's right you fuck with them.

First thing he did was buy himself a few more realistic looking prosthetic leg. It had to be custom made to fit his stump so it took a whole but it was a worthwhile investment.

The first one was Jason. Call it a twisted revenge for trying to kill him but Tim just really wanted him to be messed with the most. So one day when he knew it was only Jason and him on patrol he strategically set himself down to fall. Crunching some spaghettis to ass in a sickening way only to stand up and walk away as if nothing ever happened.... With his foot toned the wrong way around. Insisting on nothing being wrong and Jason being delusional whenever the older boy tried to get him to get medical treatment. He switched it up the whole evening, whenever he was out of sight he turned the fool right and wrong. Driving the guy insane.

Jason did not sleep well that night. He was also top weirded out and unsure if what he saw was real to talk about it with anyone else.

Then, he challenged dick to a flexibility contest seeing how far they han bend their knees and feet. Even Mr bones are a social construct gymnast Richard Grayson looked horrified as Tim stood there, food bend almost in half, knee twisted to the impossible and what looked lihe a bend in the middle of his leg. Dick claimed cheating except the thing that greeted him when he demanded Tim to puch up his pant leg to expose his trick was a normal looking leg. The first Robin did lots of stretches in the following weeks. His pride was hurt after all.

Finding a way to mess with Damian was a bit more difficult. The brat still made a bunch of harsh comments again and again and he really wasn't close enough with Tim to be easily gaslit. The kid was a trained assassin and was probably used to a bunch of weird shit considering everything Ra's. So Tim decided he could go a bit more gory on Robin than the others. So one night he sat in front of Damians room, in the dark hallway and waited till one of his pets passed him. Once Alfred the Cat came along he made some louder coping noise that would Definetly make the kid look out to check on his animals. It worked just as planned, Damian peeked out his door to see Tim, crosslegged and barefoot on the floor, seemingly cutting off his toe to feed the cat. In reality it was nothing more than a cat treat and carefully picked, animal safe food coloring.

The kid scremed at him, threatened to stab him, punched him real good for harming his cat and took off with said cat to find Alfred so the older man could check on the poor kitten. Of course not beforeaking sure Tim was in an adequate amount of pain on the floor, with his 'injured' food secured to the floor with another knife. Only to return with a worried Alfred on tow to see Tim, standing two whole bare feet with a confused expression and a bag of cat treats in the hall.

Tim got a broken nose for it but it surely was worth it. Especially once he quietly whispered a 'no one will ever belief you' to the kid in passing. He might have traumatised the boy a little but Tim fought it justified for all the attempted murder he suffered.

[deadsetobsessions]

Fae adjacent! Danny, pt. 3

Jason returns to consciousness with a scream trapped before it could come to life. He twisted his neck back and forth and back and forth.

It was the last thing he did before he died. When the Joker left and told him to say hello to the big guy, Jason could not muster up the energy to make a single sound.

But Bruce… Bruce was here this time, heavy head making the mattress by his leg dip.

The scars that ran over his face stretched as he blinked.

“…B?”

Bruce’s head shot up, eyes bloodshot and bags heavier than a Gotham socialite’s solid gold Dior purse.

“Jaylad.”

Jason- Jason was alive now. Bruce’s hug felt warm, the tear spot on his shoulder was damp as his dad cried while hugging him.

And Jason should be happy. He’s alive again. His dad loved him.

But all he could think about was the cold of the coffin, the squelch of mud and dirt, and the unerringly wrong feeling of knowing he came back but he came back wrong.

——

Tim had wandered Gotham in the weeks following Jason’s reawakening. He wasn’t avoiding Bruce Wayne. He wasn’t. But Tim knows he’ll have to answer questions soon. He just wasn’t ready.

Tim looked up at the den of pixies- pixies were real!- and squared his shoulders. He did his research. Tim Drake walks into the den with nothing but foolish hope and Gotham-brand audacity. He’ll get answers about Danny today. He will.

——

Soul-Plucker, they called him. Danny Fenton, the proprietor of Fenton Artifacts. The High King.

“I thought King Oberon was the High King?”

The pixies chittered at the little human that could have been kin. Their wings fluttered at their backs, muffled by cloth. It’s not often they find kindred. It really is too bad that Fenton had his mark on the child. How they would have loved to whisk him away. He would have made entertainment that would last a millennia! Or until the court decided to cut of his tongue, at least. How well he had tricked them!

“Of course! Of course! King Oberon is our king, see?” A younger pixie swirled her drink, a shining red and blue thing. “But he’s the High King of another court!”

“The High King of the Infinite Realms, encompassing far more than King Oberon and Queen Tatianna could ever reach.”

Another pixie chimed in, on their fourth glass of amber colored nectar. “The Soul-Plucker!”

“The Beginning of the End.”

“Afterlife IRS department!”

“He who wanders.”

“Death-Caller.” Another one said, grave and serious.

“The Arbiter.”

“So, he’s like, the boss of bosses?” Tim asked. What kind of entity did he make a deal with? Why was he kind to Tim? What motives did Danny have?

“Uh huh!”

“Then what’s he’s doing here?”

“Who knows? The whims of the most powerful are unknown to us.” The pixies clustered around Tim. “Won’t you play another game with us, Alvin? You’re so good at it! Oh, how about a drink?”

“Can’t. I gotta get home. Also, I’m a minor.” Tim slipped passed their fluttering wings and manic smiles. They move to let him past, waving drinks at him in a tantalizing manner.

“And where is that, sweet one?”

“Somewhere, Liltri. Somewhere.”

Tim Drake was a child of pure will, pure hard headed foolishness, a mind sharper than any blade, and luck more terrifying than the creatures he now dealt with. And so, he stepped out of the Pixie Bar with more questions than answers but he stepped out unharmed.

——

“Who are you?” The shadows shift as Lady Gotham unveiled her knight.

Danny felt his eyes cool, glinting green and blue. Lady Gotham forgets who her liege is.

“Haven’t you done your research? You who walks along the edge of shadows, my shop is not a place to dismiss decorum.”

“You brought… you brought him back. How. Why?”

“You want answers? Then give me something in return.”

Danny gestured to the circle his clients have come to know as the deal-maker. Danny doesn’t ask for much in return. Just… something equal to the request.

“Ah,” Danny pointed up at the sign. “I am legally able to deny you my service, so don’t get any ideas.”

Batman was studied up on myths. But he was not a believer, and that both hindered and helped him. What was a god, in front of the faithless? What was the faithless in front of power?

The vigilante stepped into the circle, unable to see the subtle shimmering of magic but remained unbound by the virtue of his disbelief.

“What do you want for answers?”

“You do not often deal with the occult, do you?” Danny tapped the counter. Batman remained silent.

“I have a soft spot for vigilantes,” Danny continued. “And so I won’t ask for much. Just… your cape.”

“Not my hair? A body part?”

“If you were dealing with the fae, you’d probably would lose something of that value, yes.”

“You aren’t fae.”

Danny merely smiled. “Do we have a deal?”

“My cape in exchange for honest answers to my questions.”

Danny huffed, approval glinting in his eyes.

“Your cape for honest answers to three questions,” Danny pointed at the sign, still hanging above them. “Three questions or nothing.”

Batman grimaced. “Deal.”

“Ask your questions, protector.”

“Why did you bring Jason back to life?”

“I didn’t.” Danny grinned. The Bat should have stipulated that he must answer elaborately. He looked like he realized that. Oh well. His mistake. Well, not like there was actual magic binding Danny, so technically, Danny could lie off his ass.

“…Will Jason stay alive?” Danny had a heart and this man was a much better father than Jack ever was.

“Yes. Barring unnatural causes, his soul is firmly attached to his body and will not shuffle off the mortal coil without warning.”

The lines of Batman’s shoulders slumped. Relief. He paused.

“What are your intentions in this city?”

“To run my shop… and to enjoy retirement.”

Danny laughed at Batman’s stoic face. “Disappointed I am not up to nefarious deeds, little knight?”

“No.”

Danny tapped the table. “My payment?”

Batman shucked off his cape and handed it to Danny.

“Why my cape?”

Danny smiled a fanged little thing. “Because your costume looks stupid without it and I could use a laugh.”

Batman grumbled and turned to leave. Ha paused, eyes catching on the glint of camera lenses.

“How much for that?”

“For the little sparrow’s camera?” Danny sighed, eyes fixed on the form of a vigilante who was more kind than angry for once. “Two thousand dollars.”

“That’s a huge markup.”

“That’s how much it means to me, compared to the rest.” Danny slid beyond the counter, a ghostly air about him. He pinned his newly earned cape up. “My shop, my prices, little knight.”

Batman silently handed him two thousand dollars and left with the little sparrow’s camera.

[rizzanon]

His place

a tim drake and batsis! reader oneshot | m.list

Summary: you remind your brother what his role is in the family | events somewhat align with pre-Red Robin if you squint

Tim Drake barely registers the destruction around him. The broken glass, the overturned books, the scattered papers—all of it blends into the edges of his vision, insignificant in the face of the storm still raging inside his chest. His breath is shallow, uneven, like he’s just come up for air after drowning. His hands are curled into fists against the floor, his nails digging into his palms, but he doesn’t move.

He can’t.

Everything feels wrong.

Bruce is gone.

Dick is Batman.

Damian is Robin.

And Tim—

He is nothing.

There’s a raw, open wound inside him, and he doesn’t know how to close it. Doesn’t even know where to start.

The word ‘replaced’ makes his stomach twist, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? It had taken Dick all of two seconds to strip the title away from him and hand it over to him.

Damian.

A murderer. A child who barely understood what this family was supposed to be. Who had killed and barely flinched. Bruce had spent months trying to reach him, trying to ground him, and now Bruce was gone, and Dick thought the best thing to do was put Robin’s colors on his back?

It’s like spitting on everything Tim had ever fought for.

He exhales shakily, the weight of it pressing down on him. He’s spent days holding himself together, clenching his teeth and pretending it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care, that he wasn’t unraveling beneath the surface. He knew Bruce isn’t dead, he knew something isn’t right, but nobody would believe now, would they?

And now, standing in the wreckage of his own room, he feels like all that certainty—the thing keeping him grounded—has slipped through his fingers.

His room is a disaster—papers strewn across the floor, glass glinting under the dim light, books lying open and discarded like corpses. The air is thick with the weight of his own fury, his grief, his goddamn exhaustion.

And yet, it still isn’t enough. He still feels hollow.

The room feels too small.

He blinks hard, staring down at the floor. His chest feels too tight. His heartbeat is too loud. The mess around him is suffocating, but he can’t bring himself to move, to clean any of it up.

And then—

The door creaks open. A quiet, deliberate sound.

Tim tenses.

He doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you.

You step inside quietly, careful with your movements. He listens to your soft, measured footsteps, the way you move carefully, deliberately, like you’re navigating through a minefield. You don’t speak. You don’t rush. You don’t even let out a sigh, though he knows you must want to. Instead, you just move toward him, stepping over broken pieces of whatever he destroyed, before lowering yourself onto the floor beside him.

Not too close.

But close enough.

Tim stares ahead, fixating on the cracks in the broken lamp, the scattered books, the torn papers. He listens to your breathing, slow and steady, the faint rustle of fabric as you shift slightly.

He wonders if you can hear how unsteady his breathing is.

You don’t push him to speak. You just sit there, patient.

You don’t sigh. You don’t try to fill the silence.

You wait.

Tim clenches his jaw.

For a long moment, there’s only silence.

Then, finally, he exhales sharply through his nose. “What, did Dick send you?” His voice is rough, bitter, but the exhaustion drags it down, taking most of the bite out of his words.

He regrets it the second it leaves his mouth.

Because you aren’t the problem here. You aren’t the reason everything feels like it’s caving in.

You don’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his anger.

You glance at him. “No.”

Tim scoffs, shaking his head. “Right, you here to tell me I’m overreacting then?”

“No.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “Great. That makes one person in this house.”

You don’t react, don’t flinch, don’t tell him he’s wrong. And for some reason, that makes his chest tighten.

“Why are you here, (Name)?”

You don’t answer immediately. You shift slightly, glancing around the mess of his room. Tim wonders if you’re judging him for it. If you’re piecing together everything that must have led up to this moment. If you’re staring at the wreckage and seeing him for what he really is—angry, bitter, and more lost than he wants to admit.

When you finally speak, your voice is softer than before.

“I just want to talk.”

Tim scoffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah? What’s there to talk about?”

You glance at him, and he hates the way your expression softens just slightly. Like you’re seeing right through him. Like you already know.

And then, finally, you say it. The thing he didn’t want to hear.

“You know you still have a place here, right?”

Something twists in his gut.

Tim swallows, forcing a scoff, his fingers dig into his knee. “Do I?”

“You do.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s real funny, because from where I’m sitting, it looks like Dick made his choice.”

You don’t react the way he expects. You don’t rush to correct him or try to argue. You just look at him. Your gaze was steady and unwavering.

And for some reason, that’s worse.

“Dick needs you.”

Tim scoffs. “Yeah? Sure didn’t seem that way when he gave my suit to Damian.”

“He didn’t give your suit to Damian,” you say. “He just… gave him a suit.”

“Oh, that makes it so much better,” Tim snaps. “Like I should just be fine with the fact that he handed Robin to someone who doesn’t even understand what it means.”

You exhale through your nose. “Tim—”

“No.” He turns to you now, eyes burning, his voice sharp, bitter. “He knows. He knows what Robin is. What it means to me. And he still—” He clenches his jaw, forcing down the words that feel like acid in his throat.

He still chose Damian.

The words taste like poison in his mouth.

Like betrayal.

Because he and Dick worked together. Because Tim trusted him. Because Dick should have known better.

Robin was never just a suit. It was never just a name.

Dick made Robin a symbol, but Tim made it a legacy. He had built on everything that came before him, upheld it, protected it. He never saw himself as a sidekick—Bruce never treated him like one. And neither did Dick.

But then, the moment Bruce was gone—

The second he was gone—

Dick had replaced him.

He had given Robin to someone who didn’t understand it. Someone who didn’t earn it. Someone who treated it like it was his by default.

Someone who had killed.

And that—

That was something Tim couldn’t forgive.

“He didn’t replace you.”

Tim can feel your gaze on him. Studying him. Assessing him. You’re quiet, like you’re deciding what to say to him—what not to say, as if he was a bomb ticking. He hates that.

“You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.”

That makes his stomach twist, because you actually mean it. There’s no pity in your voice, no condescension. Just quiet sincerity.

Tim exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. His thoughts are spiraling again, overlapping, contradicting. He doesn’t know how to say what he’s feeling, how to put it into words without it sounding pathetic.

But you’re still watching him. Still waiting.

So he just—

He lets it out.

“Robin was mine,” he mutters, voice tight. “I—I earned it. I worked for it. I built on it. It wasn’t just a name, it was—” His breath shudders slightly. “It was a legacy. And Dick—he just handed it over to him like it didn’t mean anything. After everything. He didn’t even—” His voice catches for half a second before he forces it steady again.

He hears the shift in your breathing. Feels your hesitation.

“Tim… with Dick as Batman now… you and him can never have a Batman and Robin dynamic. Not really.”

Tim stills.

You hold his gaze. “You were partners. He respects you and your judgement. He trusts you to call the shots, the same way Bruce did.”

Tim’s chest feels tight. His hands twitch slightly against his knees.

“He doesn’t see you as a kid anymore,” you continue. “That’s why he couldn’t make you Robin. Not because he doesn’t want you by his side. But because he doesn’t see you as someone who needs to be Robin.”

Tim’s throat feels tight.

“You don’t need Robin, Tim.” Your voice is gentle but firm. “And Dick knows that.”

His jaw tightens.

“He believes in you, Tim. He always has, and he always will.”

Tim lets out a slow breath, his fingers twitching against the fabric of his jeans. His thoughts are spiraling again, analyzing every interaction, every choice, every word. He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Doesn’t know what to say.

Had he really—?

Had Dick really—?

It’s stupid. It’s so stupid, but for some reason, the words hit something deep in him, something fragile and unspoken.

Dick trusted him.

He always had.

But Tim—he had been so focused on what he lost that he hadn’t seen what was still there. It was hard not to. His mom, his dad, Conner—

Tim exhales sharply through his nose, looking away. His hands curl into fists against his knees before slowly unclenching.

You shift beside him, your voice softer now. “You’ve already made your place in this family, Tim. Nothing can ever change that.”

Tim presses his lips together, staring at the floor.

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

Because the anger is still there, the frustration, the bitterness. But underneath it—buried so deep he almost missed it—there’s something else.

Something that makes his breath come a little easier.

He knows you’re right.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

His fingers tighten against the fabric of his jeans. He stares at the floor, at the pieces of his broken lamp, at the mess he made in a moment of pure frustration.

You don’t push him to respond. You just sit there, quiet, patient, letting him process, letting him breathe.

Eventually, after what feels like forever, Tim exhales, voice barely above a whisper.

“…It still hurts.”

You shift slightly beside him. When you speak, your voice is just as quiet.

“I know.”

“Where does this leave me?”

You hesitate. Tim feels the way your breath hitch, feels your gaze on him once more.

“Still here.”

And somehow—somehow, that’s enough.

His hands aren’t shaking anymore.

He barely notices. His pulse is pounding in his ears, his mind buzzing with too many thoughts at once, overlapping, colliding, turning over and over until he feels like he’s going to short-circuit.

His mind is spinning too fast, circling around the same thought, the same certainty that he knows—he knows—what he’s saying is real.

He lifts his head, forces himself to look at you. His voice comes out strained, barely above a whisper.

“Bruce is alive.”

The words are heavy, pressed between his teeth like something sacred. Something unshakable.

You shift beside him. He feels it before he even looks.

A pause.

Then—

“Tim—”

“I can’t tell you how,” he cuts in, sharper than he means to, his chest rising and falling too quickly. “I can’t tell you why.” He turns to you fully now, his hands gripping his knees, his eyes burning. “But I know.” His breath shudders slightly. “He’s still alive.”

You’re looking at him now. Tim watches every movement, every flicker of hesitation in your expression, every breath you take before responding. He can already feel the doubt coming.

You hold his gaze, steady but cautious. Then you sigh, exhaling through your nose as you place a hand on his arm.

“Tim…” Your voice is gentle. Too gentle. It makes something inside him twist, makes his throat go tight, because he knows what that tone means. You’re trying to ease him into something. Trying to let him down gently.

It makes his stomach sink.

“We saw Bruce’s body,” you say, fingers tightening slightly against his sleeve. “We can’t change what happened during Final Crisis. Bruce… he—”

“He’s alive.” His voice rises, strained, cracking on the edges. His pulse is too fast, his breathing shallow. His skin feels too tight, his own body suffocating him. “He’s still alive. I can feel it.”

You still.

You freeze.

Tim sees the way your lips part slightly, the way your shoulders subtly tense, the way your fingers twitch before curling against your lap. He sees it, and it sets something uneasy, something cold, deep in his chest.

You hesitate.

He can feel your hesitation.

You hesitate, and suddenly, Tim can’t breathe.

“We always base things off facts, Tim,” you say slowly, carefully. “You always base things off facts.” Your brows furrow. “But now… you’re trying to tell me Bruce is still alive because you can just… feel it?”

Tim’s stomach twists.

It hurts.

It actually fucking hurts, and he wasn’t prepared for that.

Because—because you were different.

You had always been different.

You were the one he could always turn to, the one who listened, who never brushed him off or made him feel like a stupid, reckless kid. You never doubted him. You never judged him. You never looked at him like he was losing it.

That’s why he told you first.

That’s why he needed you to be the first one to hear it.

And now—

Now, you’re hesitating.

Now, you’re doubting.

Now, you’re looking at him exactly how everyone else has.

He clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists. His throat works around something thick, something unbearable, something raw and ugly that he can’t let out.

He doesn’t have an answer to that.

Because you’re right.

You’re right.

And yet—

He clenches his fists against his knees. His mind is racing again, replaying everything, twisting the words over and over, trying to find the logic, trying to find the missing piece, trying to prove it.

You don’t believe him.

You think he’s lost it.

Just like everyone else.

His breath hitches slightly, his body tense, his muscles coiling. He can’t tell if his chest feels tight from anger or something worse.

Finally, his voice comes out hoarse, strained, desperate.

“I know—I know it sounds fucking stupid.” He swallows hard, his heart slamming against his ribs. “That I don’t sound sane right now.” His chest is too tight. His vision is too sharp, too focused on the way you’re watching him, on the doubt in your eyes. His jaw clenches as he looks at you again, searching, pleading. He forces the words out, desperate.

“But you’ve got to trust me.”

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Tim watches you. Scrutinizes every tiny shift in your expression, every flicker in your eyes, every breath you take.

You aren’t responding.

You aren’t saying anything.

Your eyes dart slightly downward, like you’re processing, debating, deciding. The way your fingers slowly uncurl from his sleeve before settling against your own lap.

And suddenly, Tim knows.

He knows you think he’s lost it.

Just like Dick.

Just like everyone else.

His breathing hitches slightly, panic creeping up his throat. He tries to fight it down, tries to swallow it back, but he can feel his pulse racing, his hands trembling slightly where they’re clenched into fists.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if you—

“…Okay.”

Tim stills.

“I believe you.”

His stomach drops.

His mind goes blank.

“What?”

You hold his gaze, expression unreadable. “You’ve proven to me so many times that nothing is really what it seems. That there’s always more to a truth. More to a fact.” You exhale. “And if you say that Bruce… somehow… is still alive?” Your voice softens. “If you really believe that, then maybe—just maybe—you’re right.”

Tim doesn’t move.

Doesn’t breathe.

He can’t.

His mind is blank, wiped clean, like he just walked into an ambush he should’ve seen coming but somehow didn’t.

He doesn’t know what to say.

Doesn’t know how to say anything at all.

He can’t process what just happened, can’t process what you just said, can’t process the fact that—

You believe him.

You actually believe him.

And suddenly, before he can stop himself, before he can even think—

He’s pulling you into a hug.

You barely have time to react before his arms wrap tightly around you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his grip desperate, almost painful, his fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like you might disappear if he lets go.

His voice is rough, barely more than a whisper.

“Thank you.”

It’s not enough.

It’s not enough to convey what this means to him, what you mean to him, but it’s all he can manage.

You don’t hesitate this time.

You just return the hug, solid and grounding and warm, and the feeling of it—the reality of it—hits Tim all at once, makes his chest feel too full, makes his eyes burn slightly, makes his throat ache with something he doesn’t know how to name. His heart is still hammering, but for the first time in weeks, it doesn’t feel like it’s suffocating him.

After a long moment, your voice murmurs against his ear.

“So… what are you going to do now?”

Tim swallows, pulling back slightly. He meets your eyes, searching for something—he doesn’t even know what.

“I’m not sure.”

You watch him, knowing. “I can tell you’re planning to leave.”

Tim lets out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Hah. Maybe…” He smirks faintly, something bitter in the curve of his lips. “But you know I’ll always come back, though, right?”

You sigh, shaking your head.

“You better,” you mutter. Then, softer, “And take care of yourself.”

Tim holds your gaze, memorizing every detail, every flicker of warmth, every ounce of trust.

He nods.

And this time—

He doesn’t feel like he’s drowning.

lowkey self indulged with this lol 😅🫣 tim was really going through it in the comics during this period but hey! at least it gave us Red Robin Tim Drake 🤭

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