#and tim's just like yeah i know. i know

[mamawasatesttube]

superboy (1994) #85

truly, his skill at putting words in literally any order is unmatched. we gotta put this guy in a tube and study him!! ...wait a minute...

[redsray]

big fan of the trope that is separate hero teams working with their respective bats but not knowing that they're Bats- and once they find out they go "Batman has KIDS?!?" but once it's known it becomes SO BLARINGLY OBVIOUS. the "how did we not notice before" kind of obvious.

Dick's glare (once you've done something to deserve it) definitely rivals Batman's. Jason's confident and sly smirks whenever he solves something can be seen on the Bat every time he's working. Tim's 'displeased and thinking' face is all Batman. Not to mention all of them lurk in the shadows and appear out of nowhere 90% of the time and are all crazy smart. Of course, if you told any of them that they were acting like Batman they'd throw up on the spot.

[erinwantstowrite]

doodles because im having severe art block right now and everything feels awful

[methoughtsphantom]

Danny fake guardian angel au

You know how sometimes it’s highlighted how you have to be very careful on what you say in the presence of a spirit because they can twist your words and end up bidding yourself to it?? well uno-reverse-card the spirit also has to be careful on what he says because when Danny had said he owed the dude one for coming to his rescue in a gala Vlad had dragged him to, he didn’t expect that to be taken literally.

danny: wait seriously?? i literally say that all the time!

cw: not after being crowned ghost king, you haven’t

danny: but—but I was also human when I said it. doesn’t that protect me or smth

cw: *shakes his head*

danny:

danny: omg this is a nightmare

cue timmy’s brucequest period (cuz he’s the guy) being so high strung and tired, he just wants some company, which is a so low stakes thing to want the deal Danny unintentionally goes sure we can do that and pulls him towards the guy, despite Timmy never outright saying he wants company. (tim always speaks in the sanctity of his own mind, not out loud)

So. random spirit manifesting. Tim going all who the fuck are u

and Danny panicking and saying your guardian angel

Tim not being impressed while Danny promptly blushes like a moron because that did not come off as he wanted it to.

Yes accidental dead tired where the dynamic goes from Tim trying to shake this probably demon that somehow latched to him being all like ??? dude leave me alone, and Danny being there like bitch i’m trying

to

huh. im actually being protected by a spirit like he said he would. he’s strangely an idiot but also he’s overpowered and just never leaves my side which he says it’s an angel obligation but I think it’s bullshit but also hoping it’s not because it appeals to my crippling fear of abandonment (anyways he really seems to take after those little cartoon angels that poof into your shoulder to keep from me doing wrong decisions) translate into my future boyfriend seems increasingly appalled to what i am up to

meanwhile danny

Bitch you better thank your god I’m dead because otherwise I would already been killed. I did not sign up for a assassins what the fuck I thought you were a normal civilian not a literal superhero and omg that is a fruitloop. no no back off you wrinkly raisin this is my emotional support idiot you can’t have him and what do you mean you’re messing with time whatever this way I can get back to clockwork—

[veveisveryuncool]

low effort moomin doodles before i do homework 🫶

[welcometogrouchland]

my Stephanie Brown hot take is that she should get mad bitches now that she's single in comics. Yes yes shipping BUT the one time she had sex she was punished by the narrative via teen pregnancy. I think she should be allowed to have as much sex as she wants with zero consequences. Could be a lot of sex, could be a little. Point is she should get to do it without getting narratively baby trapped this time. she should get them pregnant, actually.

[fumifooms]

That. That screentone on Chilchuck’s chest in the low open collar. Is Chilchuck having chest hair canon Kui. Kui? Gripping my knee

[ohithankyou]

so basically, tommy exists outside of his relationship with buck. he’s buck’s love interest but he’s also his own person. yeah…………………………..he’s here to stay.

[superbat-lmao]

Jason is never brought back, and instead of being lost in the time stream, Bruce dies. And realizes there’s an afterlife.

(Given that Bruce knows magic is real it’s not that much of a leap to realize there’s an afterlife. Of course, the bigger realization for him was that he ended up in heaven of all places.)

Bruce gets to see his parents. He spends all of his time with them, getting to know them, explaining his life to them. They have all the time in the world and Bruce feels a sense of peace he hadn’t felt when he was alive. By the time he gets to explaining his children, actually getting to tell his parents that they have grandchildren, he realizes they’ve stopped talking.

The novelty still hasn’t worn off for them, for Bruce getting to have real conversations with them and for his parents actually getting to see their son again. It’s no surprise that it knocks the wind out of Bruce when he remembers. Remembers that he’s dead. That his son is dead. That it doesn’t seem like a bad thing anymore because it means he can finally see him again.

But his parents have a weird look on their faces. They had all pushed through the awkwardness, how Bruce wasn’t their little boy anymore but a stoic adult who has techniques for withstanding torture and lacks emotional vulnerability. How Bruce hadn’t gotten a chance to actually know Thomas and Martha beyond scattered society stories that painted a caricature of who he’s talking to now.

But when he realizes that Jason is here, Bruce lights up. He can finally see his son.

So he asks his parents how to visit Jason. His parents had mentioned spending time with their own parents, meeting family members from different generations, how eventually Bruce would get to meet them too, he knows they know how to navigate the afterlife. And he’s finally ready to learn.

When Bruce asks, Thomas excuses himself from the conversation. Says that there’s someone Bruce has to talk to and he needs to go get them.

Martha waits with him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Thomas comes back with a blonde woman that Bruce almost doesn’t recognize. She looks nothing like her picture in his files, or the one Jason kept on his desk.

Thomas and Martha give Bruce and Catherine space while they talk about Jason.

She explains how when Jason had first come to the afterlife, Thomas and Martha had reached out. How the four of them had talked, bonded, grown close. How it had taken Jason time to emotionally recover from his death, from the betrayal of his Mother. From what he felt was the betrayal of his Father.

Jason didn’t want to see him.

Catherine had tried to explain, but Bruce hadn’t been able to follow much of the conversation after that revelation.

His son, who Bruce had turned into a cautionary tale for his other children, who he had missed every single day, who he had grieved and torn himself apart over, didn’t want to see him. And Bruce deserved it. Had chosen to get into a helicopter and left him standing in the sand. Had buried him.

Catherine is far gentler about it than he deserves. Says that Jason loved him, was grateful for everything, but just wasn’t ready.

He would still agree to seeing Thomas and Martha, still saw them as his grandparents, but couldn’t handle seeing Bruce, even if he missed him. Dying didn’t fix everything, the afterlife wasn’t some solution to all of the problems people had when they were alive. The afterlife was just the ability to have more time. And people didn’t come back from what Jason went through easily. Catherine tells him in no uncertain terms that Bruce will have to regain Jason’s trust. If he actually is interested in getting to see him.

Bruce tells her he will do anything to see Jason again. She nods and tells him she’ll keep in touch.

So he waits.

And waits.

And sees his parents, his grandparents, his great grandparents.

And waits.

He waits so long that he sees Harvey.

He sees Talia.

He sees Alfred.

After that, the waiting doesn’t feel quite the same. After all, he eventually sees Dick, again.

Bruce spends his time in the afterlife waiting for his children, and he is both saddened and relieved when he finally gets to see them again.

Dick, thankfully, is first. Bruce is also thankful he had to wait so long to see him again.

Eventually, after long, long lives, they’re all back together. With some new additions. Bruce gets Tim and Damian and Cass and grandchildren and so many people he has missed. Selina visits on “Tuesdays” and eventually he has a new level of normal for his afterlife. Of getting to see his family, his friends.

Dick is the one that eventually tells him.

He doesn’t say much, exactly. Can’t tell him how he is or anything concrete, but he says that he’s seen Jason. That some of the others have also been to see him.

Bruce tries to respond, to have something to say to that, but he can’t. The afterlife isn’t painless, and there’s nothing he can say that won’t hurt whoever he says it to. So he nods at Dick, places his hand on his son’s shoulder, and lets it be.

If linear time existed in the afterlife, then Bruce could say he’d been here longer than he’d ever been alive. Long enough that even Clark stops by occasionally.

It’s rare for him to be alone now. If he wanted it, sought it out, there is always someone for him to be able to talk to, spend time with. But sometimes, if he wandered out a little too far, he could find a small brook he used to play in as a kid, before the West end of the property had dried up.

Here, his Father had “built” a small bridge over the brook. It was part of a footpath that traveled through this part of the afterlife. If he squinted, Bruce could pretend he saw the West wing of the manor, and in the other direction, the edge of Gotham proper.

Clark would have called him Huckleberry if he’d seen him, one leg dangling over the edge of the bridge, the other bent, lying on his back. He could pretend he felt the wood grain, or maybe even a splinter as he listened to the flow of the water. Bruce had closed his eyes, wondering if now that he was dead and the brook wasn’t dried up, if it had fish in it. If it was someplace he could take Dick fishing. He’d gotten it into his head recently that he wanted to try a bunch of father-son bonding activities with both of his dads, so Bruce and John had been making a list.

Between one second and the next, Bruce felt a presence next to him. You didn’t have to travel on foot in the afterlife, or stick to any sort of conventions from being alive really, it was more of a courtesy thing than anything else.

When Bruce opened his eyes, he expected to see Tim, who broke those sorts of conventions more frequently than his siblings. Bruce had a feeling it had something to do with the boy’s obsession with science fiction, but he also presumed it was because he knew Bruce really didn’t mind.

When he glanced up at his son, Bruce lost all pretense of maintaining the “body” that was lying on the bridge. He would have said his heart stopped if he’d still had one. As it was, blinking, breathing, any of the processes that emulated life that people unconsciously maintained here, stopped.

Jason wasn’t even looking at him and Bruce couldn’t take his eyes off his son’s face, unwilling to jeopardize whatever this was.

He looked older, his jawline more defined and he sat taller, legs dangling off the bridge. Age was a funny thing in the afterlife, you could control how you appeared to others, but your mental state usually drew you towards a particular age. For his children, they mostly appeared in their 20s. Bruce kept himself in his 30s or 40s, unless his parents asked. Jason, if Bruce had to guess, was about 20, maybe 22 at the oldest.

When Jason finally looked over at him, he remembered how to breathe. He tried to clear his throat, to think of something to say, to tell Jason how much he missed him, how much he loved him, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. And then he was talking.

“Alfred said that what happened to me was a tragedy. Dick called it a nightmare. At first, Mom didn’t know how to talk about it since being a vigilante was hard for her to picture. She still doesn’t really get it, but I can’t exactly blame her. We led pretty odd lives for a while there.”

“I’ve met Tim and Damian and Cass, you know? Met their partners, their children. They’ve told me a few stories. How some cases went, missions with the League. Their own hero teams. I think Tim was the most excited to talk to me, not so sure about the others.”

“You’ve still got Alfred in your corner, although it’s odd seeing Dick argue for you. One thing about this place is that your memories don’t stay fuzzy or nothing, so all those fights you guys had? Crystal clear. Actually thought he’d take a swing at me once, not that it’d do anything. Still, glad you guys ended up figuring it out and all.”

“Mom said she came to see you when you got here. I’m assuming that’s why I haven’t seen you, although that’s a surprise too, you actually listening when someone asks you not to do something. The way the others talk about you I’d think you became Big Brother after I left. Worse than Babs even.”

“I’ve tried thinking about it. I mean, it’s been years since it happened and all but. I still don’t know what there is to say. Everyone’s been trying to convince me that you’d actually want. Well, that you’d want to see me. Talk or something.”

“But I know what I did. What happened. It’s why I left, I knew that you didn’t. That you wouldn’t ask me to leave, but that. You didn’t want me to stay.”

As he’d talked, Jason’s gaze had drifted back towards the water below them. His tone, retrospective and light, changed. Accusatory.

“It’s fucked up that you kept the suit, Bruce. No one wanted to admit it, but I know about the case. At least it meant I knew what you wanted was Robin, you enshrined the damn thing. So, yeah. I took off. Not like it worked out much better but it’s too late now. I don’t know what you want me to say. I figured dying would at least get me out of the lecture but I can’t even have that now.”

“So. Tell Dick this is me paying back that favor I owed him. Or whatever, I don’t really care. But everyone can stop coming around and all. I’ve said what I wanted to. I’ll hear you out and then I say we’re square.”

Jason had been looking away from him still, but when he got to the end of what was likely a prepared speech, he finally looked at Bruce. His face went slack in surprise. Bruce could have laughed at the expression if he wasn’t already crying.

“Jason. You are my son, even if,” Bruce took a breath. “Even if you don’t see me as your father. I never would have asked you to leave because I never wanted you to go. I can’t imagine- I love you. I have missed you every day since I lost you. I did not handle loosing you well. I understand that you’re upset and I think there’s a lot we should talk about. Even- especially if it’s going to be difficult. I am so sorry, Jason. None of it was your fault - it was mine. Please. Please let me try to- I don’t want to lose you again.”

[mamawasatesttube]

and then they kissed (because they both wanted to kiss kon)

[fuumiku]

Day 19: AU

Naga & researcher AU! Medicine expert Marcille is doing research on naga venom because it may have properties that could innovate pharmaceutics and could helo work towards immortality... My thought was that it causes paralysis in a way that keeps cells in stasis but idfk. So researcher Marcille Donato has to find a friendly enough naga gentlefolk to study and harvest venom from… Cue Chilchuck "I am sooo mean and dangerous, fear me or I'll do you in -proceeds to not do anything even when she sticks around and starts being clingy-" He had to grow harder and tougher it's a harsh world out there but he's a real nice guy… Just... Shouty... Marcille like "Actually I don't think you'll kill me if I stay here for some time to take field notes" and he gives up on denying it.

Pushing Marcille's "I want to study him like a petri dish" towards Chilchuck to the most literal I can

Maybe nagas have a short lifespan… Maybe to make venom strains the body and they have a faster metabolism. So it's kinda, the hope for her goals that he creates is also what kills him faster…? Like, harvesting the venom puts stress on the body because then it hastens to make more venom. And Marcille has to let her research about the far future of her friends go to instead enjoy her present with them...

Ok that's story info but design wise I also have to say, when I got to spontaneously choose how to color him I went with a Brazilian Rainbow Boa's patterns! Simply because I am biased and have one as pet. Are they venomous? ..... No. Do they have a fast metabolism? Snakes generally don't. Do they live in deserty places? A jungle actually. Did you know they are pretty close relatives to anacondas, they swim, burrow in the ground AND climb trees ☝️ They have really cool moon & star patterns lowkey and a nice kinda gold color, AND they're iridescent!!!! And those motifs always go so so hard with marchil It did send me spiralling though, like… A cornsnake or some plain brown snake would work really well for him, or a sand boa. And then I was thinking about his daughters and what species his wife should be and— black snakes often have really nice iridescence too, seriously look up black boas or indigo snakes, and now I'm thinking about Chil shining as some theme, like Marcille being like "noo you may not see it but you have plenty of qualities, you're a diamond in the rough"�� Even if between the two of them Marcille is more diamond-like as far as he's concerned… The world looks so much more colorful when it's being reflected through her.

Pet snake pics just because under spoilers, she's called Mooncake and she has never done anything wrong ever in her life (except being a serial plant murderer)

She's shy. She also loves hollow logs <3 Snug nooks and crannies including using a layer of dirt as a weighted blanket. Return to earthworm

[quadrantadvisor]

Multiverse, Reverse Robins au, 2,514 words

-

Jason (Red Hood)

The imposters are good, Jason will give them that.

They need to work on their looks, unfortunately, because each one of them is a little off. Their Nightwing is too bulky, and his costume isn't made with Dick's flexibility in mind. Besides that, he's got an undercut that doesn't match the shaggy way Dick has his hair now, and his blue is too dark. And the swords. Those are different.

Their little Robin looks more like Dick, actually, Dick as he was before Jason's time, with his happy grin and his bright yellow cape. He doesn't match Damian's style at all, and Jason wonders if their intel was out of date. He tucks away his anger (the way he's used to doing, now) at these bastards roping some little kid into whatever con they're trying to pull. They can help the kid after they subdue him, and he stops trying to flip-kick people in the face.

The Red Robin outfit isn't bad, but the guy playing him is way too tall to be Tim. He doesn't use a bo staff, either, clearly preferring the armory of sharp little implements he keeps tucked away in his utility belt, including a wicked looking combat knife.

Which brings Jason to the current pain in his ass, the idiot trying to pass himself off as the Red Hood.

Yeah, they'd split off into pairs to fight. First off, for practicality's sake. Less risk of friendly fire if the only guy you're trying to punch is the one who isn't you. And secondly, it's just what you do, isn't it? Somebody gives you a set up like this, you go along with the poetic justice. No bat is immune to drama.

Jason is regretting that a bit, now. Fake Hood had taken him for a ride, leading him, he now realizes, far away from the warehouse where Nightwing and Robin had initially called in the disturbance. This other guy isn't the powerhouse that Jason is, but that doesn’t matter if Jason can't ever get in a hit. His movements are precise, deadly, and familiar in a way that makes Jason suspect League training. Jason is keeping up, but barely, and that's with the advantage of his guns. The other guy hasn't touched his, still gleaming red in his holsters, and Jason has a sneaking suspicion that they aren't filled with rubber bullets.

They're at a bit of a stalemate, standing on opposite sides of a dark rooftop, and Jason's trying to catch his breath but he can't relax, not when his gaze is locked onto his opponent, waiting for the minute twitch of muscle that will indicate his next move. He's wondering if he could get a shot off, wondering where to aim, when his comm crackles to life.

“Stand down!” Tim snaps in his ear. “Hood, Wing, the alternates aren't currently a threat. Deescalate however you can, and get back to the warehouse. We can explain this whole mess there.”

“Really?” Nightwing asks. He goes on to say something else, something about his doppleganger being incredibly threatening, thank you very much, but Jason stops listening, because there's something going on across the roof.

A mechanically distorted voice says, “What? No, I'd be able to tell. This guy isn't-” The imposter(?) cuts off suddenly, presumably listening to a response.

And then he… giggles.

“That isn't funny, Red,” he says, in contrast to the little peals of laughter making him subtly shake. “You- you get how fucked up that would be, don't you?”

Jason can't figure out what to do. Tim's intel is almost always good, but he can't get himself to stand down, not when, for some reason, that laughter is setting his teeth on fucking edge.

(He knows the reason. He'd know that cadence anywhere, he hears it in his fucking nightmares, but it isnt possible. He's in Arkham, right now, because Batman won't kill him and Jason isn't allowed to kill him and that uncomfortable truce is what got him his family back. Jason would know if he'd broken out, they wouldn't have kept that from him. They wouldn't.)

“Oh shit,” Tim says, and it makes Jason wonder how he knows, “Hood, is your alternate having some kind of fit right now?”

The sound escalates, from breathy little giggles to screeching laughter, and even with the hood's distortion, it's unmistakable.

It's the Joker's laugh.

It's the Joker.

And isn't this exactly some shit that Joker would pull, making a mockery of Jason's family, a twisted parody that fucks with his head? Tim's lying, he's trying to get Jason out of this situation, and Jason gets why, he does, but obviously the rest of them can't (won't) protect him from this, so if he has to take fate into his own hands, he will.

The green is creeping up, but Jason doesn't let it haze over his vision because he has to be in his right mind while he does this, not for them, for himself. As he stalks across the roof, he empties the clip from one of his guns and pulls out the live rounds, loads them into place.

He thinks Tim is calling for him, maybe the others, too, but the chatter over the comm is getting further away the closer he gets to his target. He should be smart, should take the shot, but maybe he's got more pit in his head than he wants to admit, because Joker, still laughing, pulls a knife, and Jason steps into his range to disarm him.

The strike is fast, but compared to the careful movements of before, he's practically telegraphing his actions. Jason sidesteps, and if the blade knicks him when he twists Joker's arm, he doesn't feel it. He's got the clown in a hold, now, and forces him to his knees with the gun against his temple.

If the hood is anything like his own, the bullet won't do it, not even at point blank range. Jason would like to get it off him, would like to see the life leave his eyes, but he doesn't have to. Jason moves the barrel beneath his chin, right where the armor ends. The pit rages inside of him, says this is too easy, says to make him suffer. Jason pushes it down. This is the compromise he'll make, this is what he'll do to try to maintain both his humanity and his peace of mind. The bullet will ricochet off the hood from the inside, will tear through Joker's brain at least twice, and he'll never come back from that, and Jason will finally be free.

It'll be easy.

This is too easy.

“Nothing to fucking say?” Jason growls, jostling the clown in his grip, because there's always some joke, some shitty twist.

The Joker just laughs.

“Unhand him this instant!” someone snaps, and Jason's finger twitches but somehow the trigger stays still. And now what's he supposed to do, because of course fucking Nightwing- but wait, that isn't- but it is, he's right there- it's both of them, two Nightwings. Fucking fantastic. Twice the guilt trip.

“Come on, Jay,” the Nightwing who's actually Dick pleads, and hey, what the fuck, codenames? In front of the fucking Joker, Dick? “Let him go, we can explain everything.”

“I'm not doing this again!” rips itself from Jason's throat, and he'll think later about just how wrecked he sounds. “I'm not just standing here and letting him go, Wing, not when one bullet can put a stop to all this, not when I can end him.”

“Jason,” Dick says, slow with forced calm, “that's not the Joker.”

“Don't you fucking lie to me!” Jason seethes.

His hand is wrenched to the side, the barrel facing open air, and before he can make a move the unfortunately familiar feeling of a high voltage shock courses through him.

By the time he's stopped seizing, Dick is at his back, supporting him with his own body and with arms under his pits and around his chest in a weird reverse hug. Technically, Jason's hands are free, but they're empty, the gun skidded to somewhere else across the roof.

Dick is murmuring into his ear, “Sorry, Little Wing, I'm so sorry,” and, “You're okay, you're okay, you're okay,” mantras meant to soothe his brother as much as himself. Jason wants to be angry, wants to snap at him to let go and fucking cut it out, but he's feeling strangely disoriented. He only has enough brainspace to pay attention to one thing, and that's the scene playing out in front of him.

Dick had clearly hauled them back a few steps, but Jason is still uncomfortably close to the bastard version of Nightwing (who, Jason realizes in hindsight, had tazed him while he'd been distracted by his brother, not cool) and the laughing maniac he should've killed. Nightwing is holding onto Joker's shoulders, his hands bouncing as the gasping, shrieking laughter continues.

“I'm going to remove your helmet now,” Nightwing says. He has a slight accent that Jason knows he's heard before, and his tone is professional, almost clipped. And yet, somehow, Jason can tell that this is a gentled version of the man's voice, the sharpest edges sanded away. His hands move from Joker's shoulders to the back of his head, carefully inputting whatever sequence allows for safe removal of the hood. Jason hears a hydraulic hiss when some sort of catch releases, and as Nightwing starts pulling the red metal up and away Jason can't help holding his breath.

At first, he sees what he expected to see. It's the Joker's expression, after all, his laughing face pulled into a rictus grin.

But the grin isn't right, somehow. The man is pale, but his face is unpainted, and the smile stretches wide, too wide, wider than even the Joker ever managed, and after a moment Jason recognizes the red, raised scar tissue on either side of his mouth for what it is.

Then, Jason takes in the actual features of the person in front of him. Dark hair, pale blue eyes, the cheeks, the jaw, the nose.

It doesn't make any fucking sense.

The Red Hood, collapsed on his knees in front of him, scarred face bare with no hood or domino to protect him as he struggles under the weight of his own laughter, is Tim Drake.

He's crying.

Jason is suddenly glad that Dick's holding him, because he's certain that he'd be on the ground, otherwise. Then, he realizes that he can't breathe.

Jason knows, logically, that his hood has sensors and filters that keep him safer than he could ever be without it. It is only every once in a while, when something stupid happens, that he regrets that he, a man with claustrophobia, decided to stick his head into a metal bucket.

Dick can probably tell that he's hyperventilating, and doesn't fight him as Jason gets his hands on the back of his neck and pulls off his hood.

Jason gasps in polluted Gotham air, and Tim's eyes snap onto him. Nightwing says, “I'm administering the emergency dose of your medication,” and then stalls, like he's waiting for a response, but all Tim does is laugh and stare. Jason stares back. He can't look away.

Nightwing retrieves a small tubular device, almost like an epipen, and presses it against Tim's leg. That shouldn't work. Tim's wearing body armor, same as the rest of them, and there's no way a needle could pierce it, but Jason looks as Nightwing draws the device away and there's a small raised circle of hard plastic on Tim's thigh that the head of the device fits into perfectly, like it was designed for that purpose. An injection spot, built into Tim's clothing, specifically for whatever drugs fake Nightwing just pumped into him.

Immediately, there's a difference. He doesn't stop laughing, or smiling that horrible fucking smile, but the manic tension is gone. He doesn't look like he'll shatter at a touch anymore, too brittle to be handled. The curve of his spine gentles, muscles no longer pulling it to the point of snapping. Jason watches as slowly, oh so slowly, Tim gets quieter, leans more into Nightwing's hold on him, starts gasping more than laughing.

Dick is talking behind him, into his comm, it sounds like. If it's important, someone will get his attention.

Finally, Tim breaks eye contact. “T- tell him,” he says to Nightwing, struggling between gasps and giggles, “tell him what you, gave me. Jay doesn't, he doesn't like, needles.”

The strange Nightwing turns his head, and Jason gets the impression of a sharp, searching gaze behind his domino. He's nothing like Dick, not at all, but something niggles the back of Jason's mind, some sense of familiarity regardless. He tosses something, and Jason automatically reaches up to catch it.

It's the empty tube of medication, which does seem a lot like an epipen, up close. “It's a combination,” the man says. “The antidote for Joker venom, an antipsychotic, and a mild sedative.”

“What the fuck?” Jason hears from his own mouth as he looks down at the innocuous little tube.

“It's only used in emergencies,” Nightwing adds, and does not clarify any further.

Jason doesn't know what to say to that. He shakes himself out of Dick's hold and grabs an evidence bag out of his jacket. He watches Nightwing, to see if he'll object, but he doesn't. Jason slips the medicine tube inside the bag and tucks it away.

“There you are!” Dick says in a bright tone, one meant to cover his anxiety and relief.

Jason turns, and finds that their roof has gotten a little crowded. All four Robins have arrived, his brothers mingled in with their copies, copies who don't quite match in ways that are now sticking in his brain. Tim, Jason's Tim, is standing right there, pressing his mask against his face like he'd broken the seal on the adhesive, and it isn't sticking quite right. Other than that, he's normal. He's fine.

The Robin, the one in the classic colors who Jason had thought looked a bit like Dick (oh God, could that be-?) gives a little whistle. “Trust Red Hood to cause drama!” he says in a bright tone that is too too familiar (fuck, fuck he is). “Must be a universal constant.” He grins, cheeky, looking past Jason.

Jason isn't processing fast enough to be offended for his own sake, but he turns and checks on Tim, other Tim, the Tim who apparently also has a claim to the Red Hood name. Tim is propped up on Nightwing's shoulder, looking drowsy and relaxed. He's looking back at Robin, and his lips are pressed tightly closed, but he's smiling, and it reaches his eyes.

Alright, then. This is probably fine.

Jason snorts, to get the kid's attention, and rolls his eyes. “Comes with the job description,” he snarks.

The kid lights up. Jason feels distinctly weird, having that smile directed at him, but it's not… bad.

Yeah. This is fine.

-

I'm planning to add a reblog with more information on this au/fic idea, so if you're interested, watch this space.

[oifaaa]

People bring up the fact that Jason (might have) beaten up Tim that one time like it's the worst thing Jason did ignoring that he literally shoots Damian point blank in the chest all the offence in the world to tim but imo boy got off pretty easy

[methoughtsphantom]

halfas are the found family trope foster child

they all adopt each other. it’s the reason Vlad wanted so badly to have Danny as his son and the reason Danny immediately went with sure you’re my cousin now with Dani. it’s a survival mechanism from being so very few of their species. Sooo, halfa!Jason except he sorta isn’t yet cause Jason’s core is extremely ruptured from the lack of ectoplasm involved in his forceful resurrection. So when Danny finds Jason in his catatonic state he can’t quite tell the dude’s been dead and remains some, just that the guy for some reason seems very friend-shaped. Danny doesn’t mind his friend is braindead, and is also a john doe, he gives familiar vibes and that’s apparently enough for Danny to constantly find himself in the hospital doing his engineering homework on the room with the guy, and talking for hours about the updates on the absolute clusterfuck of the city and how he was from a freaking ghost town and he can almost even draw comparisons. he blabbers about how he’s not homesick enough times to even corner himself to talk about a ghost lore many times and how he’s just finding himself a little more prone to violence and in constant pain since none of the people he has adopted as his family are here with him and he can’t consider a place a lair if there’s isn’t someone of his in it.

But Danny could never drag someone with him just because of some it, after all it was Danny’s choice to come to Gotham to collage and not stay where at least his parents (good parents Jack and Maddie) were in Amity.

Ironically, Danny essentially can’t feel that his core has been spoon feeding ectoplasm to Jason. As months go on, the little ball of energy builds in anticipation practically vibrating in the waiting pulse of something (Danny doesn’t know but more often than not has he found himself laughing in happy confusion. it weirds him out in a good way) It’s really that he’s feeling the slow healing process of his friend (brother brother brother) ‘s core.Imagine it’s just about to properly, correctly heal when canon strikes back and Jason gets snatched by League assassins. Danny is left feeling like his core got torned out. His core had spend months helping another’s only to feel the other’s imprint and to not be able to protect it in return is— forget it being an obsession; thats like having your newborn baby being ripped out of your arms. An all assuaging feeling of helplessness that is devastating. Danny just beginning to feel like home lair when out of nowhere the rug is swept under him. Danny suddenly struggling to not flunk all his classes and beat every single liminal that he can feel crossing paths with him to the ground. Danny suddenly having his chronic pain (that hadn’t been so bad lately) dialed up to the point that there are just bearable and bad days.

The worse thing is he doesn’t know why.

Jason had only been a guy.

…

It’s only a three weeks before Jazz tells him she accepted a job offer in Gotham.

(and the guilt only makes him feel worse when he can feel himself feel better because of it)

…

now

whimsical time skip ✨

Danny is now on his feet again and friends with a Wayne of your choice (or maybe they were friends a little before Jay dissapeared and it was badTM cause Waynes? liminal 🥲) Danny definitely didn’t enjoy snapping off to his friend like that. anyways it’s been a year since that and he and his friend are having a grand time playing civvies, uhh let’s say dick because I want them to meet while ice skating, Also Dick because he definitely turns a blind eye when Danny goes airborne for a second there yep. He’s just having too much fun.

anyways as alwaysTM Danny doesn’t clock celebrities and like why would he, Dick is just the random guy who’s was fast to turn Danny’s slow day in the ice ring into a competition one day and brighten when Danny matched up his puns. So he totally doesn’t get why the guy’s so gloomy one day, anyways as you can figure, it’s Jason’s deathday and Dick is a deprecating bean, Danny tries to cheer him up by having him remember his brother instead and Dick attempts to, but even skipping through some photos in his phone make his eyes burn.

It is because of that that he doesn’t notice Danny absolutely freeze up at the photo of his friend Jay (Jay because he’s a John Doe, but that’s just too impersonal and so the first letter is J *wink wink*)

Danny absolutely doesn’t know what to do with this information, barely catches himself from asking Dick how did his brother die. Most importantly when because Danny just saw Jay—Jason less than a year ago, and this somehow doesn’t feel too recent.

Annd that how we find Danny digging into the Wayne second son tragedy. Staring at the date of death while the knowledge that they met almost six months after burns his forefront of his mind. Danny spends a day going over all the questions running through his mind over how the fuck he couldn’t sense Jay was a ghost—err was… in past tense?? what the fuck?? Danny would really like a refund on his ghost sense.

Anyways Danny goes check out the grave (now that he knows there is one) and boom although intangible he somehow triggers those shitty ass sensors/alarms that somehow didn’t go off when jason was literally digging himself out.

Obviously the bats get in the case immediately. And boy are they absolutely enraged that someone would steal Jason’s body.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

huh? oh yeah. naw. I'm fine. Just bein utterly normal about this promo pic. yeah. thanks for askin.

[lena-thinks-too-much]

Okay, so anyone who says Tim is a Ravenclaw is WRONG. If you think Tim is a Ravenclaw then you don't understand Hogwarts houses outside of "the cool kids, the smart kids, the nice kids, and the mean kids".

Like you mean to tell me Tim "I blackmailed Batman to make me Robin" Drake isn't a Slytherin?

Tim who has more contingencies than Batman and is the only Robin that can LIE to batman?

Tim decides something needs to happen and then makes it happen. Like that isn't the most Slytherin trait ever.

Slytherin's are cunning, resourceful, and ambitious. If you don't think that describes Tim Drake then you clearly haven't read the Red Robin comics.

I mean let's take a look shall we?

He realizes that batman didn't really die, and not a single person in the entire hero community believes him, so what does he do? He decides to find and save batman himself. AND HE SUCCEEDS.

There's the ambition.

Tim fought seven powerful metahuman assassins, whose abilities he did not know of before, while protecting a civilian, AND WON.

Resourcefulness.

And do we really need to talk about how many times Tim faced Ra's in a battle of wits and won?

Cunning.

So yeah, Tim Drake is a Slytherin and if you still don't think so, fight me.