#Bee Robin

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[els-moonleaf]

‘And if my ears do not deceive me, she is indeed her father’s daughter.’

[ssweetleaf]

Reader has their nips pierced and poor Robbie doesn’t know what to do! She’s just stuttering and drooling poor thing!! Let her lick them<3

😵‍💫 SMUT under the cut

*ੈ‧₊˚

With an open mouth and wide eyes, Robin stared at the pretty swells of your tits— watching them rise and fall with each breath you took, drool collecting at the corner of her lips and beginning to slip, just itching to have your pretty nipples between them and have a taste of the cool metal bars that peaked out.

It all started out as some giggly stupor— innocent at first, asking poor Robbie if she’d seen a girl’s tits before.

“I’ve seen them in movies—” she said, stuttering over her words, cheeks starting to flush. “b-but not in real life.”

“Did you— did you wanna see mine?” You asked, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt and gazing up at her from beneath your lashes. “Y’know, for experimental purposes.”

“Yes! I mean— yeah, that sounds— nice.”

So, all giggly and flushed, you lifted you shirt up and Robin raised her hands, eager to touch before settling them back into her lap. She needed your approval first.

And once you snapped the latch that supported your bra, you could hear her shaky exhale once the weight of your tits fell, bra tossed to the floor and nipples all stiff and pebbled. But the thing that had her breath hitching, nestled between both of your nipples, two metal bars, glinting in the light of the lamp beside you and a little whimper escaped when she caught sight of the little hearts that adorned either side of the jewellery.

Oh, fuck. She didn’t realise you had your nipples pierced!

“D’you like them, Robbie?” You preened, all sickly-sweet and eyes all honeyed for her, fluttering your lashes and purposefully shifting closer, causing your tits to jiggle crudely.

She nodded, eyes still wide as saucers, unable to shift her gaze from the soft mounds and stiff peaks, her fingers twitching, the need to touch consuming her and she had to clamp her thighs shut, heat swelling between them, her clit throbbing furiously.

“C-can I touch them?” Her eyes finally flicked to yours, eager and shuffling her knees along the carpet to get even closer, feeling the heat radiate from your warm skin, and the slight sheen of your flesh in the stuffy room.

You nodded prettily, palms on her thighs, smoothing up and down, thumbs dipping cheekily between the apex of her clenching thighs.

“Of course— want you to.”

And you expected her to bring her hands up, feel the weight of your tits in her palms and tweak your little buds with her thumbs, though she did no such thing— instead, lowering her face to nuzzle against your skin before seeking out a nipple and wrapping her lips around it, suckling deeply, her eyelids fluttering closed at the feeling.

“Oh—” you moaned, pressing a hand to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her tresses and tugging lightly at the roots, whining when she lathered her tongue along the cool metal piercing, nipping at it slightly with her teeth. “such a dirty girl, Robbie.”

*ੈ‧₊˚

[bats-and-birds-24]

I love massive fandoms with conflicting plot points, messy time lines and inconsistent characters.

Where canon is so frequently ignored that any news from the corporations that own the characters is only accepted if it interests them.

Like the DC or Marvel fandom, like Warhammer and DnD.

These fandoms are just so vast, it has something for everyone. There's some niche corner for one to hide away in.

Sure, there are massive flame wars, but you can always choose not to interact with that.

I also love small fandoms where everyone knows each other.

Where fanartists and fanfic writers chat frequently and feed into each other. Where it feels like a small peaceful village. Where every update about the show or game or whatnot is received excitedly.

Like Ever After High, aphmau's mystreet series, and Bee and Puppycat.

There's a tight knit community that one is a part of once they enter the fandom.

I love fanart and fanfiction and fandom in all its forms.

[shouts-into-the-void]

I'm obsessed with the potential dynamic of Jeremy/Andrew actually

[horsechestnut]

I don't know how to explain the sheer insanity of comics timelines, so here's my favorite example:

Tim Drake starts his sophomore year. A few months later Stephanie finds out she's 2 months pregnant. About 3 months later No Man's Land starts and lasts a year, during which Steph has her baby. A few months after the end of No Man's Land, Cass makes a deal with Lady Shiva. 11 months later Bruce Wayne is accused of murder and arrested. A month later Cass fights Shiva to the death. Bruce breaks out of prison well Cass still has bruises. Six months later Bruce is still a fugitive.

It's the first day of spring.

Tim Drake is a sophomore.

[the-one-someone]

The child bites.

[telumendils]

2/∞ BELOVED FILMS ↳ The Princess Bride (1987) + being very quotable & iconic, part 1

This is true love. You think this happens every day?

[sevendutchies]

"I realized I was leaning heavily on the Fool. I lifted my head to look at him. 'Did we win?' he asked me. His smile was lopsided in his swollen face. 'The fight isn't over until you win,' I said. Burrich's words. Spoken to me so long ago. I touched my leg. Warm and wet. I was hungry and thirsty and so tired. But I had them both beside me. Alive. Still bleeding, and my ears ringing. But alive."

[zimtrim]

The Bee Gees - Barry Gibb

[tygerland]

The Bee Gees (left to right): Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb. 1978.

[ode-to-fury]

Rote lines I still think about nearly a year after finishing Ass Fate

If fate demands that you be dead well then I'll probably be dead too

I called you a clodpole

But a man's whole life you sniff at and say, what, this naught of a human, this fisherman this carpenter, this thief, this cook, why, what can they do in the great wide world?

You break your heart against this stony world, and you do not ask the cost

Give me a face you could love (coupled with they were supposed to be brown oh my goddddd)

As if he didn't know he was loved the best

You're not dead, son. You're not dead.

My dream was dead in my arms

[dukeofthomas]

I like you. Robin!Jason with a gun

[noassamoas]

Oh oh, again, again, again

Again and again and again and again

Do it again, do it again

Again and again and again and again

Do it again, do it again

Again and again

[realm-of-the-elderlings-stuff]

Bee didn't inherit just the wit and the prophetic shenanigans from dad #1 and dad #2, she also inherited the "always doubting your loved ones love you back" trait, and the "don't ever speak plainly or someone might actually understand you" trait, and I just can't wait to read her future solo book, to see how badly she'll make us suffer.

[renaissance35]

Damian: they’re my service bees

Colin: but they’re not trained they attack everyone who gets close to you

Damian: they’re trained