#to help tim

[akaanmo]

in honor of me getting the tim pride funko

[nasatshirts]

i want peruvian tim so bad. pls give me jason making humitas with tim once they've gotten closer

[prlssprfctn]

Give me Bruce and Jason, who are not on the war path anymore, but they are still awkward and absolutely clueless on how to make things up, so they pretend that they need something from each other in order to spend some time together. Even if these things are absolutely simple, and both of them could handle it themselves, if they wanted to.

Bruce, calling Jason in the random Friday night: So, Alfred left for a week. And I promised kids to do a homemade cake for them. And you know how useless I am in the kitchen. So.

Jason, who knows that Bruce is, in fact, not useless in the kitchen, but low-key misses cooking with him, because the last time they did it, it was Alfred's birthday before his death, and they did the cake together: Theoretically, I agree.

Bruce, sighing in relief: Theoretically, I will need you in Manor tomorrow in the morning. And I theoretically will pay for that.

Jason: Theoretically, see you tomorrow.

Bruce: Theoretically, thank you.

Jason, dealing Bruce in the middle of the night: Old man. Bail me out of the prison. I am in CGDP's building.

Bruce, knowing well that Jason wouldn't be caught in the first place, if he didn't want all of this to happen, and even if he did, he would easily escape without him, getting involved, but also knowing that today is anniversary of the day Bruce adopted Jason, and it is his way to spend time together: ...Okay. May I ask what did you do?

Jason: ...Stole Gordon's tires.

Bruce, stifling his laughter: I see. I will be here in a few minutes.

[zkyeline]

The good health brothers

>>>

[niinnyu]

The 4th wall is made of clear glass for her.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Urgent Call

"I need your phone."

Tim looks up from his laptop. The boy in front of him looks like he's been dragged to Hell a week ago and just made it back: smudges of soot on his face, his not-so-white t-shirt smelling of smoke, and a nasty looking burn on his hand that he somehow doesn't even pay attention to. Tim thinks back to his mental list of 'Rogues currently on the loose', but it's only Ivy and Harley (who don't even count anymore), and Penguin, who is not known for setting things on fire.

"I can call 911 for you, if you want?" He offers, because this is still Gotham. Despite the fact that a slightly scorched guy casually walking into a coffee shop is not something out of the ordinary here, he's not giving his phone to strangers.

The guy grimaces and starts aggressively rummaging through his pockets.

"No, thanks, ACAB and all that, and they won't do shit here anyway," he says, and then pulls a handful of tangled golden jewelry — rings, chains, necklaces with various gems in them — from his pocket and places it on the table in front of Tim. "I need your phone," he repeats.

Tim stares. First, at the gold — these things look antique, and his parents were archeologists, he knows what he's talking about — then, back at the guy. He looks... ordinary, sans the dirt and smell.

But the burn on his hand looks significantly more healed than it did just a minute ago.

Thankfully, Tim has already had his cup of morning coffee. Which means he is thinking very rationally when he does get his phone out of his pocket and hands it to the guy, just to see what he does next.

"Thanks," the guy grins at him, plucking the phone out of Tim's hand and unlocking it. Tim's eyebrows shoot up — there's a password there! — but the stranger is already dialing in a number and pressing the phone to his ear.

It takes less than a second before someone evidently picks up, and the guy starts talking.

"I have less than three minutes before the phone dies, so listen very carefully. Etrigan is fine, Jason is not, Klarion is still being a bitch. Dora won't help anymore, so you're on your own until Sam makes it there with the staff. I'm in Gotham because, apparently, mazes and I don't mix well together, so if you could summon me back, that'd be cool," he says, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

Tim is back to staring at him. He recognizes some of the names, and, well, one could have been an oddity, two a coincidence, but three is a pattern.

"The fuck you mean you can't, I gave you the incantation two months ago!" The guy raises his voice, his foot tapping on the floor in frustration. "Do you think I just go around giving my summons to people for shits and giggles? Like, yeah, have a spell that unleashes a cosmic being of immeasurable power, use it as a bookmark!"

This interaction, despite Tim only hearing one side of it, gets more and more alarming with every word.

But then, the boy suddenly straightens up and stills, his eyes flashing bright, unpleasantly familiar green.

"You what?" He asks, his voice slipping from just angry to quietly enraged hiss, "Sold it to whom?!" But, before he gets an answer, Tim's phone makes a thin, tiny buzzing sound, and the guy takes it off his ear, looking at the screen.

"No, no-no-no," he mutters, shaking it like that would make it work. To no avail, though: the phone screen flashes a few times and goes black. The guy curses. At least Tim thinks it's a curse because he doesn't understand a word, but the stranger's face and intonation are telling.

"Useless fucking moron of a human, I swear I'm going to drown you in cow shit once this is over," he switches to English, dropping the phone on the table right by the small pile of gold, "I'll bargain your pathetic soul from everyone you've ever dealt with and give it to the Observants, and maybe, after a few millenia of endless Council paperwork, I'll have mercy and sell it back to Lucifer and watch him fry you on a skillet."

...Whoever the boy is, Tim absolutely refuses to ever piss him off, okay. That's an impressive threat to even make, not to mention being able to go through with it.

"Do you need help?" He asks cautiously. If he is getting his context clues right, this is something that involves JLD, and maybe John Constantine specifically since Tim doesn't know any other man who is a magic user, sold his soul numerous times, would care about Etrigan's wellbeing, and could invoke this kind of murderous intent.

The boy looks back at him, his eyes back to normal blue.

"Huh? Oh, no, I doubt this can be helped," he waves Tim off and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sorry about the phone, but, unless you have a way to yeet me across the globe so I end up in London in the next twenty minutes..." he shrugs, smiling in that helpless 'nothing you can do here' way.

Tim picks up his phone. It's dead, wholly and completely, won't even turn on when he tries.

He really, really shouldn't do that. This is definitely none of his business, and very much out of his capabilities and area of expertise.

But he thinks about the zeta-tube in the Cave.

"Actually," he says, and the guy's eyes snap back to him, a bewildered sort of surprise on his face.

[dcoraclestan]

Bruce (after catching Tim drink alcohol): You’re grounded!

Tim: like that’s ever stopped me from drinking.

Bruce: How many times have you-?

Tim: I’m Bruce Wayne’s adopted son and forced to go to a different boring Gala and Ball every week. You think I willingly do that sober?

Bruce: who the hell is providing a 17 year old alcohol?!

Tim: Alfred.

Bruce: …of course he is. I mean, I’d expect this behavior from Jason, but you?

Jason: yeah, for some reason I skipped the whole “teenage drinking” phase. A mystery as to why really…

Bruce: shut up.

[thebreadmantm]

Tim sketches for the soul

[psyduckz]

you okay?

[ktkat99]

Jason comes back from the dead and, as he's still a bit out of it, heads to the manor.

Crawling straight up through six feet of compacted earth is hard, especially after waking up suddenly in a coffin, so after he makes it inside, he sits down to rest on the couch.

And immediately falls asleep.

Hours later, Bruce returns home to find Jason's body, covered in dirt, dug up from the grave and left on his couch.

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Post patrol family game night goes awry ...

Meme reference under cut

[prlssprfctn]

I will forgive DC for not using All-Blades stuff on Jason, only if they give me a comedy little run, where the family finds out that he is a fucking chosen one, because the half of the world tries to reach for his help in magic stuff, which he ignores — so they are forced to beg Bruce to affect his son, somehow.

Bruce: Hey, John. Long time no see. What happened?

John Constantine, tired as fuck: I need you to ask Jason to pick the goddamn phone.

Dick: Is he wanted in LA, too?

John Constantine: Wanted? Guy is having a fucking blast. Do you know how many people need the Chosen One's assistance?

Damian — who actually knows it, so he is not surprised — scoffing: Todd? Assistance?

Tim, who knows as much as Bruce and Dick, which means nothing: Jason? THE CHOSEN ONE?

Bruce, catching Jason near the fridge in three in the morning: Jason? When were you going to tell us that you were chosen to... restore the balance between good and bad, and had magical swords?

Jason, chewing on dry cereals while skimming through the book: Like what, was it hard?

[axiliern]

god please take every traumatic incident i had as a younger sibling and give it to tim drake

[peacheskoo]

Saw these panels the other day and—

LET JASON BE SILLY YOUR HONOR

He knows he won’t no balls

[batfam-stuff-posts-0]

Bruce: Tim and Damian did what?

Jason: Well, Alfred said they weren't allowed to see Dick because he was still recovering from last night, and the only way they could stay was if they were injured.

Bruce: And?

Jason: So they punched each other in the face and told him they were injured.

Bruce:

Jason

Steph: I gotta admire their dedication

[corkinavoid]

Danny, appearing out of nowhere: Hi!

Danny, reaching into Jason's chest and pulling out a misshapen, disgusting blob of dark green goo: You've got a spare part you don't need there, buddy.

Danny, molding the goo into a different shape with his bare hands, throwing the darker parts away: And, you know what they say, sharing is caring, so.

Danny, holding up the pure green and slightly glowing blob that is not melting or looking sick anymore: Here you have it, an entirely new spleen, fresh baked and up for grabs!

Danny, shoving said spleen inside Tim: Since you're missing one, you get to have it for free, no returns, you're welcome.

Danny, fading from view with a two-fingered salute: There, puzzle solved, everyone have a great day, bye!

Jason, whose Pit Rage is gone:

Tim, who has a new organ now:

Bruce, who, just like everyone else, has absolutely no idea what just happened and who that glowing kid was:

Dick:

Dick, a moment later: Hold the fuck up, when and how did you have a splenectomy, Timothy?!