#grouchy tim

[mamawasatesttube]

i am going to say something that is . well i don't think it's controversial in that i don't think it has been said enough to cause controversy to begin with but skjdfhjds listen. hear me out

tim/ber/kon <<<<<<<<< timiveskon

on the one hand you have an uphill battle to convince me why these characters would even give a shit about each other (plus i mean megfitz massacred their characterizations and thats a whole extra mess) and generally it just reads to me as just treating kon as tim's spare love interest uwu without any care about his character.

but on the OTHER HAND.... timiveskon? chefs kiss. kon and ives are instantly bonding over nerdisms. they are both standing on the table and yelling about the rereleased edition of return of the jedi and kon is going on about how he has the original literally downloaded into his brain and ives thinks that's the sexiest thing he's ever heard and tim is just sitting there consumed by lust while they both yell about greedo. it practically writes itself. come on

[flowerflamestars]

the 800 tasks my week includes because it is the Week of Three Thanksgivings

vs.

the overwhelming desire to sit under a blanket and finish the next chapter of my fic

[nabtime]

Better Watch Out

Danny had just started to feel like he was settling in with the Waynes. It had been... not ideal circumstances that brought him to the family in the first place, so getting used to not having to deal with all that mess was the first hurdle. The second being getting used to dealing with an entirely new- if more pleasant, mess. The Waynes, and Gotham by extension, were- to put it lightly- fucking crazy. He wasn't in Amity anymore and however much he'd thought it was the weirdest place on the planet before- he was absolutely rethinking that now. Where he had been one hero against a handful of villains, Gotham had a whole brigade of vigilantes against an army of villains. And they were... Bat-themed. For the most part. He'd yet to meet any of them, so he hadn't gotten the chance to ask what all that was about.

None of that was the point though. The point was that Danny had only recently stopped feeling like a fish out of water around his new foster family, and now the Holidays were coming. The Holidays that always served to put him in a sour mood. The Holidays that made him more prone to lash out and snap at those that didn't deserve it. The Holidays that, despite being Jewish by heritage, Bruce seemed oddly enthusiastic about celebrating.

(It reminded him, painfully, of Sam. He'd yet to be able to see here since everything went down and he missed her and Tucker something fierce. Which was maybe also putting him in a bad mood.)

So you really couldn't blame him for feeling a little tense about the whole situation. Not only were the Christmas decorations that smothered the Manor making him grouchy, but his grouchiness was also making a guilty pit form in his stomach. He was a moody teenager and adding trauma on top of that didn't help how caustic he could be- and adding fear on top of that made it all the worse. What if he saw Dick in his Santa hat, grinning and innocent, and he snapped? What if he saw Damian, stoic but loving, give Titus a shiny red bow-tie collar for the season and he made a caustic comment that went too far? What if he saw Bruce so much as smile at him while standing near the giant tree in the foyer and he saw green?

What if he ruined Christmas? Again? For people that didn't deserve it? Again? What if he hurt the people he cared about that had only ever shown him care and consideration? Again?

So Danny was just a bit tense. A bit on edge. And he was trying. Oh Ancients was he trying. To not be such a little bitch about all the Christmas stuff. But he had a limit. Bruce, being the rich socialite that seemed far too enthusiastic about family-centered holidays, did not have a limit. Every inch of the manor was covered in tinsel and holly and blinking lights and fake snow. Every spare moment was filled with different siblings being coerced into doing cheesy holiday activities, with Danny being the only one to attend every single one of them. (Cutting down a Christmas tree with Jason. Buying presents at the mall with Tim. Decorating while hanging from the chandelier with Dick. Caroling very badly with Stephanie. Making snow angels with Cass. Watching Christmas movies with Duke.) And he attended them all with a barely restrained snarl and a badly bitten tongue. The one time, one time, he'd told Bruce no- the guilt had eaten him alive (and dead) at seeing the man melt into the most pathetic kicked-puppy look he'd ever seen.

No grown man should ever be able to do that with his face. Danny never wanted to see that again.

In return, though, he had to face the Horrors.

The latest Horror being the worst he'd ever faced to date. A Horror that he thought he'd never have to face. He thought he'd slipped past this particular one by aging out. He was too old for this. He shouldn't be there. Damian, scowling and eyes filled with murderous intent, shouldn't be there. Dick and Bruce seemed to both be having the time of their lives. It was far too disturbing- and the continuous blasting of Christmas music and the overheated crush of a restless crowd only made it worse.

They were in line to see Santa at the mall.

It made his skin crawl. He was fifteen! Damian, the poor bastard, was also fifteen!

He could practically feel Ghostwriter laughing his ass off at his predicament. This was worse than getting stuck in a rhyming Christmas cautionary tale. He would 100% rather be stuck in one of Ghostwriter's cheesy poems than be stuck in the stupidly long line to see the fake mall Santa that probably didn't want to be there just as much as Danny.

But Bruce looked so fucking happy. Genuinely happy.

It was something he'd noticed early on about his foster dad. He smiled a lot and smiled big, but he rarely ever meant it. Now, Danny wasn't usually one to notice things like that. He got pretty wrapped up in his own problems and just- didn't have the skill to notice these things. Usually. But, well, being ghostly gave him a bit of an advantage. He could get a pretty good read on a person's emotions, regardless of what expression they wore. If he felt close enough to them. Frostbite had compared it to, like, family pack bonding. And he really, really didn't want to think about that further (why had it never worked for his parents? why did he feel so close to Bruce so quickly? why?) But, more importantly, he could tell that while Bruce smiled a lot, he rarely meant it.

But whenever Danny or his foster sibling begrudgingly participated in "family holiday activities" he smiled and he meant it. Bruce, fundamentally, was a sad man. Always grieving something. But here and now? In line to see his teenage children visit fucking Santa in the mall? He was smiling from ear to ear and his emotions, for once, matched. Yeah, there was a hint of mischief there, but it was overwhelmed by the giddy joy and excitement.

A suspicious amount of excitement... Like he was expecting something.

And then Bruce was leaning down between him and Damian and with a bright grin, he muttered, "I have a surprise for the both of you."

And even Dick, who had not stopped taking a stupid amount of pictures the entire time, paused to look at Bruce curiously.

"As I've told you both before," he said, looking over at Dick and back to Damian, "I know the real Santa. Met him a few times, saved Christmas with him a few others, and he owed me a favor for the last misadventure we had. So, I asked him to be here, for this one afternoon, for you guys."

Danny barely caught a glimpse of Dick rolling his eyes in the background. Oh, okay, so this was bullshit that has long been established. Nothing new on his account. That was something at least.

"Father," Damian interrupted with scorn and a promise of violence in his voice, "you are aware that this- Santa Claus creature- is fictitious, are you not?"

"Damian, chum," Bruce responded carefully, sincerely saddened, "why would you say that about an old family friend?"

And, poor Damian, looked two parts baffled and three parts murderous. Nonplussed and unable to even fathom a response to his father. He just stared the man down.

Dick huffed in exasperation behind them. "C'mon, B. Will you let that go already?"

Bruce furrowed his brows, eyes already taking on that faint sheen of kicked-puppiness, and looked back up at his eldest. "You don't believe me, Dickie? After all these years?"

Dick responded with a flat stare. Danny kind of wished he had popcorn for this moment. It was like witnessing a mild car crash. Nobody got hurt and it was still wicked to see parts flying everywhere. There was even a chance of things catching fire. Man was he glad he could just watch.

"Danny?" Bruce pleaded, turning to him with those sad, sad eyes. "Do you believe me, chum?"

And fuck how was he supposed to respond to that?

"I have it on good authority," he said, thinking of yearly fight, after fight, after fight, "that his existence is very hotly debated in the scientific community."

He could feel the questioning stares from Damian and Dick but he refused to look away from the innocently tilted head of his unfortunate foster father.

"Is that a yes?" and he sounded so sincerely hopeful. He couldn't crush the man's spirit. He couldn't.

But he also refused to lie and say he believed in Santa. At fifteen.

He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, but eventually replied. "It's a hotly debated topic."

And Bruce just smiled that empty smile and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, chum."

He, again, ignored Damian and Dick's stares. If he looked at them, he'd break. If he so much as made partial eye-contact, he was gonna fucking lose it.

"Oh look! We're almost at the front!"

Danny was living his worst life. Officially. This was the bad time-line. Dan's future didn't even come close. He was going to go mega evil any second now and kill everyone in the vicinity and then himself. This wasn't happening and it wasn't real and Santa Claus can't hurt him because he isn't real.

But Bruce, the saddest man in history, utterly and sincerely believed that he was.

So Danny was going to sit on some random old dude's lap and pretend to care about what he wanted for Christmas and whether or not he'd been a good boy this year and he was going to force a smile the entire time and his soul might shrivel up and die all the way inside, but at least Bruce would be happy.

What the fuck kind of afterlife was he living.

And then it was their turn and Danny was forced to go up first because the alternative was Damian committing homicide in the middle of the mall while Dick and Bruce cheerily took pictures.

Okay. Just sit down. Spit out answers to any inane questions. Pose for picture. And leave. Simple and easy and completely unbearable. But- for Bruce- he would bear it.

But, damn it all, a chill went down his spine as he approached.

No. Absolutely not.

There was no way. But he examined the man sitting in the chair and the more he saw the more the sinking pit in his stomach grew. Full thick beard of snow white hair. Brown eyes filled with smug mischief and magnanimity. Thick red velvet jacket made for trapping in heat in extreme cold weather, lined with white fur that looked suspiciously close to trim on cloaks he'd seen in the Far Frozen. A not-quite-ghostly-not-quite-magic-but-something-in-between aura he often got around Gods and Ancients.

Fuck, but Bruce actually knew the real bonafide Santa Fucking Claus.

What, and he means this with a great amount of emotion, the fuck.

He sat down in a stupor and the man just placidly smiled at him, a twinkle in his eye letting him know that he knew Danny was currently experiencing new stages of grief not yet known to man and was just gonna let him ride it out. How nice of him. Because of course he was being nice. He was Santa.

Fuck.

He looked up at the man. Ghost. God. Whatever. And for a good moment that's all either of them did. Just. Stared.

Sorry, Santa, Danny's brain has suddenly gone on vacation. 404 not found. Please leave a message after the tone. Error. Sorry, there's nothing there. Please try again.

After a few agonizing moments he asked, "how? Do you know Bruce?"

And Santa laughed at him, the sound working its way into his bones and filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. It tasted just a bit like egg nog. Gross.

"Well," the man started, voice deep and rich like a good cup of hot chocolate, (whatthefuckwhathtefuck). "Why wouldn't I know a man like Bruce? Honorable, righteous, and very skilled. One of the best the Justice League has, if I'm being honest."

And then Danny's brain stopped completely. Because there was no fucking way Santa (FUCK) was implying what he thought he was implying.

But it all made so much sense now. His ears were ringing suddenly and the world was greying out but he was Seeing the Light.

"-nny?" Santa (FUCK!!) was saying. "Are you alright? Want to tell me what you want for Christmas now?"

"Hm," he said airily, still not all the way there, "I'm good, thanks."

And then he slid off the man's lap and walked back to his foster family in a daze. And he looked at Bruce (BATMAN!! FUCK!!!) and he slid a slow hand down his face, attempting to take the skin off it in the process.

"You alright, Danny man?" Dick asked, only half paying attention while he gleefully snapped pictures of a sullen Damian barely restraining himself from committing violence while stubbornly standing next to Santa instead of sitting on his lap.

"That's the real Santa, Bruce is Batman, and I'm half-dead," he replied bluntly.

Dick fumbled his phone in response and Bruce merely raised his eyebrows.

"That's an odd start to a 'three guys walk into a bar' joke there, chum," he said amiably. And Danny wouldn't have noticed the tension in his voice if he weren't ghostly. But he was and unfortunately for them all, it was now everyone's problem.

"Not a joke," he said. "I'll explain the dead part later but Santa outed you on accident."

"Okay, no," Dick interrupted, "we are not leaving the dead part for later, Danny, what the fuck."

"Listen," he said flatly, slapping his hands on either side of Dick's face and smooshing it to convey his seriousness while he spoke. "Santa is real, he's a God, and he's sitting right there." He emphasized with a sweeping wave of his arm in the direction Damian was stomping back towards them from. "We're leaving the dead part for later."

"What is all this about? Dead part? What is going on?" Damian demanded in rapid succession, growing more aggressive and persistent with each question.

Danny, already on his last fucking nerve, was gonna lose it. For real.

"Apparently," Dick drawled, disbelief and an unfair amount of derision in his tone, "that's the real Santa, he told Danny B was Batman, and Danny's now saying he's dead."

"What-"

Damian did not get to finish his sentence because that was the exact moment Danny finally snapped. Every bit of pent up tension and hostility, every bit of restrained Holiday fueled fury he'd been bottling up. Unleashed all at once because Dick decided to be an asshole about not believing him.

Danny snatched one of the giant plastic candy canes that lined the aisle of the queue to see Mall (but actually Real) Santa and gave a good swing in Dick's direction. Dick who had unfairly good reflexes and was able to dodge by jumping over the swing and landing back neatly on his feat.

"Danny?!" he cried, incredulous.

But Danny was no longer listening. Only reveling in the wild swinging of the candy cane and attempting to land a hit on Dick for being an absolute dick and finally unleashing hell upon the world and specifically his asshole foster brother. And maybe he put a little bit more ghostly strength in his last swing than he meant to, because when he finally made contact- he heard a pained off as Dick went down hard.

"Danny, please," he wheezed from the soft bank of fake snow he'd fallen into, "it's Christmas."

He screeched and continued his assault. "It's December 10th!"

And then, promptly; Bruce wrangled the candy cane from Danny's grasp, Damian pulled Dick from the floor, and they were all calmly escorted from the mall and asked politely to never return.

Danny really, truly, hated Christmas. And it looked like that wasn't going to change any time soon.

[myerssimp21]

Tim Drake, Aphrodisiac Victim (YAN!Pt.1)

Romantic!Yandere!Batfam x fem reader. Part 1 Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

It’s easy for him to excuse it, easy for Tim Drake to pretend like he hadn’t intentionally fumbled the latest conflict with Poison Ivy. He could have done more to stop her, but when he discovered her plan and spent days pouring over the ingredients in her new concoction, the holistic quality of her potion calmed his nerves and quieted the anxious parts of him that screamed he would get caught. Ivy was known for several atrocities in Gotham, but she didn’t usually act as aggressively as Scarecrow or Joker with her toxins.

So when Tim Drake definitively concluded her newest potion wouldn’t have any adverse health effects, he was slower than he should have been when she whipped out the perfume bottle and sprayed it at him.

He’d been expecting this; what he hadn’t expected was Bruce yanking him backwards in an attempt to save him from the mist. The Batclaw shot out, aiming for the bottle in her hands but failing to retrieve it halfway through the delivery, the glass shattering on the ground and splashing all over the Bat and Tim Drake.

There had been dizzying action, and then only silence for a moment. Ivy had a shit-eating smile creeping onto her face as she began backing away, keeping her eyes on the two men trying to catch their breath.

“Gentlemen, it looks like you have the night off,” she said with a giggle as she continued to retreat, eyeing her escape route, “maybe make plans?”

“Pamela,” The Bat growls in a dark tone, his anger barely contained over how their mission had gone so wrong, “Give me the antidote.”

She turns to run away and he lunges forward to grab her before his knees buckle under him and he collapses to the ground, catching his balance and hearing her scurry off.

“Batman,” Tim says, feeling the weight of consequences of his actions as he feels his crotch begin tingling, “she doesn’t have one. I checked.”

The silence is palpable as Bruce evens out his breathing and pushes off the ground, using a nearby wall to steady himself, “We need to get to the Batmobile before it sets in.”

Tim shudders as Bruce places a giant hand on his shoulder, concerned both at how hard the big man is taking the dose and at how good the physical contact feels in this state. He hopes Bruce doesn’t feel pleasure at the slightest touch like he does; he’s frustrated since it was supposed to be just him.

Tim Drake was supposed to receive an accidental dose of Ivy’s new aphrodisiac. Tim Drake was supposed to stop by their darling’s apartment afterwards to relieve the strain in his crotch and the desire in his heart. It was supposed to be the best porno he’d ever see; getting the best angles for the cameras discreetly set up at her place earlier that month to rewatch later.

He knew Bruce was smart and Tim only hoped to earn forgiveness for this by making the best home film with you. He also knew Dick, Jason, and Damian would be grouchy he’d gotten to you first and it was entirely possible he’d get just decimated by your lack of interest altogether. Even though you and Tim had become close over the past couple semesters, he could tell you were reserved at times, just anxious or uneasy enough to pull away before anything with lasting complications happened.

The Batmobile had an autopilot feature which Bruce immediately enacted, setting a course for the Batcave. Wordlessly, Tim adds their darling’s apartment complex in as a stop, trying to not get shaky at the thought of getting laid in this state. It’s so easy to add it; all he has to do is press it from the list of saved priority locations in the portal.

“I had my suspicions,” Batman murmurs as he closes his eyes and lays against the headrest, trying to control the sensations in his body, “you wouldn’t have gotten sprayed at that range unless you wanted to.”

Tim says it before he can think in misplaced irritation, “Then why’d you get in the way?”

It’s embarrassing the moment he says it and Bruce says nothing in response, letting the silence sour in the air to make a point.

“What are you going to do?” Tim asks him, too aware of the growing urge to sink his dick into a warm, wet hole. The urge is going to be hard to wrangle enough to talk to her, let alone look normal enough to seem like a regular hook-up.

“I’ll manage,” is all Bruce says, and Tim hopes that means he’ll call Catwoman as soon as he leaves; he suddenly doesn’t like the idea of everyone tuning in at once to the live camera feeds as he tries his hand at seducing you. It feels like lots of pressure, and while Tim Drake is usually phenomenal at working under pressure, he doesn’t want to get rejected in 4k.

Bruce grips the steering wheel tight when the tingles begin in his crotch, trying to distract himself, “I have a change of clothes under your seat. Change before we get to her place.”

~

Bruce makes the call while he can, letting Damian know he and Tim were not going to be able to finish their patrol shift. Damian sounds unimpressed when he asks why and Bruce doesn’t answer him, hanging up.

Bruce goes to voicemail when he calls Jason, and his jaw clenches in irritation. He knows Jason holds more resentment towards him and might murder some criminals if made to do patrol on a night he’s supposed to have off, but Bruce can’t let Damian do patrol alone in the big city yet. He’s also a little concerned that Jason might murder Tim if he hears him with you, so getting him out on patrol is better for everyone.

After calling Jason two more times, Bruce gives up and calls Damian back, telling him he’d send Grayson over. Ever efficient, Damian is already dressed as Robin on the Batmobile’s call screen, his eyes narrowing in his domino mask.

"Father, your demeanor suggests trouble. What went wrong with Drake during the patrol?"

"It's nothing, Damian. Just a minor setback. We handled it."

"Minor setbacks don't usually disrupt patrol schedules. What are you hiding, Father?"

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," Bruce says, ignoring Damian's rude interrogation, "Make sure to stop by the GCPD to follow up with Jack Ryder on-" Bruce's voice falters as he struggles to remember what the story is; his crotch begins throbbing uncomfortably and he feels like the heat is spreading up his torso with each beat of his heart.

"On those cryptic messages left in the GCPD mailbox," Tim finishes for Bruce, leaning in to fit in the camera lens so Damian can see him too. Damian rolls his eyes.

"Your knack for evasion is quite the talent, Father. Maybe it's worth pondering why you choose partners if transparency isn't part of the deal."

With this scathingly cold delivery, Damian ends the call on a sour note. Tim would check with Bruce but their darling lives on the street they just turned down and his heartbeat has begun violently thudding in his chest and in his dick.

"Tim," Batman says firmly before Tim leaves the Batmobile, "stay in control. Scaring her off is not an option."

Tim's trying to not be sensitive about it because after all, it makes sense; if he comes off too strong and scares her, not only is he fucked immediately with Ivy's aphrodisiac coursing through his veins, but he will complicate things for the whole Wayne family. The other part of him, the part being drugged by Ivy's potion wants to whine in protest. How is he supposed to exercise control!? He'd never force himself on her but he doesn't doubt he might pass out if he doesn't find relief soon. As he exits the Batmobile with her apartment building in front of him, he just prays Jason is asleep and doesn't cockblock him.

You weren’t asleep yet. At 10 PM, you were drawing in bed, pausing at different parts in the pornographic video you were watching to practice drawing bodies. You couldn’t deny this way of practicing wasn’t tempting you to turn the lights off and rub one out with one of your vibrators though. They were recently charged, after all.

Not wanting to stop drawing quite yet but wanting the desire to build, you turn up the volume of the tv and make an effort to not pause as much. It felt good to feel a building arousal in your body and know you could use your toy as many times as you liked. It had already been about twenty minutes of you rotating out on your favorite pornography and hentai tags, working your brain up to arousal under the guise of practicing art. It honestly didn’t take much to get you feeling hot; growing sexual tension in your personal life made it easy to tap into. Maybe it was just that it never left your mind in the first place, and your mind wandered as your fingers snuck under the waistband of your shorts.

You thought of the recent weird vibes between you and Tim, the boy in your humanities course you sat near who was also in your social work course. You’d exchanged numbers early in the semester and at this point you’d met up for study sessions more than once. He’d always been a little flirtatious but you thought he was joking until he had leaned in the other day, hand finding purchase on your thigh as he murmured, “you drive me crazy, you know that?”

It was so generic you would have chuckled or rolled your eyes but the way he said it made goosebumps raise on your skin instead. His eyes were locked on yours and the sober intensity in them was not something you had prepared for, leaning away from him in sudden awkwardness even when you felt your cheeks burning.

Still, the thought of how he looked at you made you shudder when your finger brushed against your clit and your mind raced on.

Then there was your next-door neighbor, Jason. Tall and broad-shouldered, there's a casual confidence in the way he moves. His piercing blue eyes seem to twinkle with amusement whenever you shyly chat with him, like he's in on some secret joke. The black cat always at his heels chirps happily on his little patio table when you two chat, purring loudly and head-butting Jason at any given opportunity. Always, Jason makes his appearance shirtless, his eyes laughing louder at you every time you feel your face flush when he says something questionably flirtatious towards you. It's one thing to playfully flirt, but to do so while ripped and shirtless? How was your ability to articulate yourself around him supposed to have a chance?

You try not to look and act unflustered every time, but once your eyes lingered and you noticed scar tissue all over his torso, unable to tear yourself away from the sight. You'd apologized when he jokingly said you'd better take a picture, since you didn't want to seem rude checking out his scars and felt silly for getting caught staring.

"They come with a price, always," Jason remarked cryptically, suddenly making intense eye contact.

"Your scars?" You asked, afraid to say the wrong thing due to your social anxieties but leaning towards him from your bannister.

"No, my pictures" he replied with a smirk, his eyes twinkling mischievously while Alfred the cat chirped at his ankles again. Jason leaned across his bannister too, "But I've always believed in getting to know my neighbors. I think you and I could take that to a whole new level, don't you?"

"I-I think... that could be...nice," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Getting to know you better, I mean." You had looked away while trying to choke out these words, gathering your courage before meeting his gaze again. "I'm curious about you.. So maybe we could... explore each other sometime."

His eyes widened, his expression betraying a hint of genuine disbelief. A faint blush quickly dusted his cheeks, mirroring the warmth you felt spreading through you at his suggestion.

"Wow," he said, his voice laced with surprise and breathier than normal, "I wasn't expecting that, but... I like where you're going with this." The tone of admiration had given you chills at the time, praise kink activating at the new way he was regarding you. "I’m curious about you too, you know. Let's see just how close we can really get."

His reaction left you feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, but you couldn't help but smile at his response. You hadn't seen him since then, a couple days ago, and you hoped your conversation would amount to something delicious one day if it was meant to be.

As you reminisced about Tim's intense words and Jason's forward suggestions, your fingers gravitated towards your clit, applying firm pressure as they glided up and down your labia before slowly easing into your pussy. You opted for two fingers, relishing the sensation of fullness they provided compared to just one. They pressed deeply inside you, and you squeezed around them exploratively, reveling in the feeling.

After relishing the fullness of your fingers, you pumped them a few times, a low moan escaping your lips at the intense sensation. Your eyes scrunched shut tightly as you imagined Tim's hand from the other day—how it had come to rest on your thigh, the way it had firmly gripped at you, igniting a desire to jump at the touch.

You visualized him inching closer to the point of no return, sliding his hand into your underwear, and letting his fingers work their magic right there as you both sat with your homework in front of you. Just moments ago, you would have been innocently reviewing new terms together, but then the thought of his touch would be obscenely irresistible. You pictured yourself moving your hips, eagerly responding to his touch and allowing yourself to make all the noises you had always been too nervous to make with others. You imagined he'd get antsy to fuck you after hearing the squelching of your pussy on his fingers. In your mind's eye, he would just barely find the self-control to pull his cock out from his pants before burying his length desperately as far deep as it could go in you.

As you finally reached for the vibrators kept next to the bed, the abrupt sound of knocking at the door shattered your session. Startled, you jumped up, hastily yanking your shorts back up and rushing to wash your hands.

With no peephole on your apartment door, you felt a twinge of unease as you hurried to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the sight of Tim standing there caught you off guard.

"Hey... uh, sorry to just show up unannounced like this," Tim begins, his voice slightly breathless. "I, uh, I needed to talk to you about something important."

He shifts uncomfortably, trying to suppress the nervous energy coursing through him. "I know it's kind of out of the blue, but... can I come in? It won't take long, I promise."

Tim's words come out rushed, his cheeks flushed with a mix of urgency and embarrassment, as he struggles to maintain his composure despite the powerful effects of the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins.

Without hesitating, you step aside, allowing Tim to enter. His presence saturates the room, bringing with it an air of tension and anticipation.

"Tim, what's going on? Are you okay?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern and uncertainty as you closed and locked the door behind him.

His eyes met yours with an intensity that made your heart beat just a little faster, unsure of what he was going to tell you.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what I said the other day," Tim began, his words coming out in a rush. "About how you drive me crazy. I... I don't know how to explain it but I felt like I had to come see you."

His confession hung in the air, heavy with emotion and unspoken arousal.

As he stood before you, his usually composed demeanor was replaced by an air of dishevelment. His hair was messier, and his clothes weren't neat like usual. There was a manic energy in his expression, a hint of desperation that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tim, you seem... different tonight," you remarked cautiously, noting the wild look in his eyes.

"I couldn't wait any longer," he confessed, his voice emotional, "I needed to see you. I needed to be with you tonight more than anything."

The intensity of his gaze sent your heart racing, a sense of unease creeping over you as you began to comprehend the depth of his interest. Despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of something akin to surrender. You longed for him to desire you so intensely that he couldn't wait for a more appropriate time, practically begging you to spend a night with him like a lost puppy.

As Tim stood before you, his agitation evident in every movement, you couldn't ignore the tension in the air. Your gaze inadvertently dropped to the now noticeable bulge in his pants and you're captivated by it, unwilling to look away. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the undeniable evidence of his desire.

"Can you... touch me?" Tim's voice trembled with urgency as he made the request, his tone surprisingly gentle despite the underlying intensity. "You can set the pace, do anything you want, just... please, do something," he added, his words carrying a fervent plea while leaving the decision entirely in your hands.

The tension was thick but you couldn't say you were really surprised at this admission of interest. Regarding the boy in front of you, you pondered the consequences this could lead to. As far as you knew, Tim wasn't a frat boy or someone who could make your life annoying with spreading rumors about the type of girl you were at school. He'd only ever been considerate, kind, and genuine. No girlfriend that you knew of, and he'd definitely be the kind of guy who gushed about his partner if he had one, so you wouldn't be any sort of homewrecker. He always helped you with your homework, to a point where you barely needed to do anything but the minimum whenever he got involved in any of your projects or assignments. This in mind, you decided he deserved a reward.

Leaning in towards him, you place your hands against his cheeks to cup his face. His eyes are wide, the pupils dilated. You thought you heard somewhere that meant someone was in love. Staring into those blown pupils with a mixture of curiosity and arousal, you drew closer.

"Can I kiss you?" You whisper and he nods before you can even get the question out. You kiss him, noticing he seems to freeze up for a moment before kissing you back, pressing against your mouth harder. His tongue swipes against you, but before you let yourselves go any further, you pull away.

"Before things escalate, can we agree to keep it casual, keep us casual? I like what we have."

He seems so antsy, almost breathless, "Absolutely, yeah. I'm all in. No pressure."

Doubting his sincerity since he seems so gone off of whatever is happening to him, you hesitate, "Tim, I'm serious. I don't want you to agree just because of the moment or you're high."

You're staring into those dilated eyes of his in the beat of silence that follows, hoping he's really listening to you.

He looks back into your eyes, the frenzied look a little more under control. "I hear you, I'm on the same page. Friends-with-benefits, I'd love that." Notably, he doesn't deny the speculation of being high.

Nodding at the more clear communication, you went back in for the kiss, now letting his tongue enter and explore your mouth. After getting more clarity from him, you feel less tense and relax into his kiss, feeling his hand come up to touch at your hair as he takes more control of it.

Dropping to your knees when the kiss breathlessly ends, you kiss at his clothed bulge, pawing at it with a hand. Your eyes are fixated on the stricken Tim Drake above you, and he watches in awe as you deeply inhale. You can smell him through his pants and nuzzle your cheek against the bump in them.

Slowly pulling at the drawstring of his sweatpants, your fingers hook on the band and you pull them down till they're bunched at his ankles, hardly taking a breather from your kisses.

"Oh, god," he moans in a strangled voice, "You're so pretty down there."

His praise makes your cheeks begin to burn and your movements get a little more self-conscious, feeling marveled at. Moving your mouth against his bulge in his boxers, you find where the tip should be and roughly suck at it through his underwear. His body shudders, one of his hands fingering through your hair and grabbing it firmly and he hisses, "Play nice."

Feeling good about this now, you moan into his bulge at the choked tone you caused him, pulling his boxers down and kissing on his penis directly now. Lifting it, you craned underneath and kissed at his balls, licking a long strip up from them to the tip and swirling your tongue around his hole at the top. A loud moan tore through Tim and you felt him push his pelvis towards you more, the tip of his penis in your mouth beginning to inch further.

Graciously, you accept his bid, widening your mouth to swallow him completely when he pushes in. He's not terribly big but it's still a little hard to fit him in, the longer length causing it to bump into the back of your throat. He doesn't taste bad considering your previous experiences with oral. It was musty and damp like he'd just worked out, but the faint scent of soap and the neat pubes your nose was buried in told you his hygiene wasn't terrible.

Swirling your tongue with the movement, you experimentally go down on him to gauge his reaction. He moans loudly again and the sound is beautiful to you, doing it again in the hopes he moans nicely again. He does and you fixate your gaze up at him as you take his cock deeply again and his face betrayed how flustered he was, with his cheeks flushed and the look of a madman about him.

He's watching you like he adores you and when you make eye contact, his hips buck into your mouth and he whines, "I knew you'd be gorgeous swallowing my cock, you're taking it so well."

You look up at him in curiosity, so he thought about you like that? He'd pictured this?

"Fuck, I knew it. I knew you'd look beautiful on your knees."

You sense his thighs trembling and your hands come up to press against them, mouth obediently swallowing his cock.

"Oh," he chokes and roughly thrusts deeply, "I'm cumming- it's coming, swallow it all!"

He looks back down at you and then it comes as he moans loudly and crouches to push his cock as far as it will go down your throat, the overwhelming cumshot from the throbbing penis in between your lips threatening to spill out of your mouth. You always hated swallowing cum, and the hot orgasm spurting into your mouth is no exception. You feel your gag reflex threatening to make this night nightmarish but then it ebbs away as you focus on the fact the flow of cum is slowing down, on the fact this particular sensation will go away soon.

You can't lie he sounds and looks delicious otherwise, your eyes focusing on his flustered face that looks almost entirely delirious now. He's sweaty but the handsome face almost glows with liveliness, cheeks flushed and jawline trembling with emotion.

Gently, you slide his penis out of your mouth, sucking any remaining cum or spit off until you get to the tip, lightly swirling your tongue against his hole. When you finally pop off, his hand cups your cheek and he promptly drops to his knees, passionately grabbing your face and kissing you. His tongue wriggles into your mouth and you're surprised he's tongue-kissing you with the flavor of his cum fresh in your mouth still. One of his hands hungrily comes up to knead at your tit and you whimper as he harshly pinches on the end of it. Then he's pulled away from the kiss but his body is beginning to overwhelm you, crawling on top of you as you fall back onto your butt with your legs in front.

"Let me have you," he pleads, and you feel his penis is hard again and prodding against your thigh, "Please let me have you right now."

You wouldn't have preferred doing it mere feet away from your front door, especially since the crack under the door was a couple centimeters wide and anyone in the hall could probably hear you without effort, but the wild look in his eyes and the famished way he pulled at both your tits now made you want to indulge in such an animalistic fucking. Something was hot about the desperate way he looked, something enticing about the frenzied approach. You'd never seen this side of him, and the consequences of indulging with him in such a degrading way was far from your mind when his head dipped down and he tugged at the hem of your shirt. Helping him take off your shirt by lifting your arms, he wasted no time in shoving his face in your cleavage, nipping at the top of your breasts with his teeth.

Yelping at the surprising and slightly painful sensation, your hands come up to grip at his hair and he lays large wet kisses against your breasts, sucking at the skin there. You know he's gunning for hickeys and you whimper when he alternates between open-mouthed kisses and biting, arching and pressing your breasts further towards him.

His mouth pops off of them and he leans in, head over your shoulder as he fidgets with your bra clasp behind you. You turn your head as he fiddles with it and bury your face into his neck, inhaling deeply before kissing at it. He smells faintly of laundry detergent, but there's sweat and a slightly sweeter smell lingering on him, the sweeter smell hanging heavily in your nostrils and seemingly dripping at the back of your throat. It makes your head buzz a little and you pull away in a daze when he fails to unclasp your bra, your tits popping out of the thing when he pulls it down in frustration.

"What cologne do you wear?" You ask without really wanting to know right now, feeling your head spin after smelling at his neck.

"I'm not," he gasps, squeezing and pinching at your nipples freely now, and you throw your head back with a moan when he attaches at them with his mouth. He uses his tongue and teeth to alternate between nibbling and flicking at them with his tongue, paying attention to each side as he can. His penis is excitedly bumping against your thigh in his boxers and you kick your shorts off, groping at his bulge.

"Please," he says with need when he takes a break from your tits, and his hand now fumbles at his boxers. You see him pull his cock out from the hole in them and understand what he wants when he slides your panties aside, not bothering to remove them. His dick prods at you and his hips slowly move around, trying to find your entrance. Aroused and excited to feel him enter, you reach down to guide him in.

Then, you remember.

Groaning in annoyance, you gently begin pushing him off of you, "Tim, we have to use a condom. They're in my room."

He finally pulls off your tits with enough of your pushing, and he looks at you like he doesn't understand, a rabid look glinting in his eyes.

You smile, trying to make the best of it, "C'mon, it'll be more comfortable for us on the bed anyways."

Standing and realizing you feel uncharacteristically light-headed, you unsteadily make your way to your bedroom, feeling him grip at your hips while he follows. You apologize for the pornography still loudly streaming from your TV as you make your way to your dresser to get a condom, and his eyes quickly become glued to the visual stimulation, mouth opened slightly as he stared.

"Keep it on," he instructs when he notices you reach for the TV remote, "Keep it on and get over here."

You approach the bed where he sits on the end, and he opens the wrapper and pulls his boxers down to reveal his penis, hastily rolling the condom onto his length. The sensation of doing so seems to be much more stimulating to him than you thought it would, and he moans and whimpers as he pulls it all the way down. Once it's on, he grabs forward at your waist and yanks you down onto him, your breasts smashing against his face as you fall onto him. He's strong and you're letting him pull you around, straddling his lap and looking down at the needy man.

"Here," you say, reaching past him to grab your pillow and tuck it under his head, "There you go."

You smile down at him sweetly and he smiles back, kneading at your ass as you sit atop him. Leaning down to kiss him, you use a hand to reach down and guide his penis against your entry, pulling it to rub it up and down against you. His tip collects your aroused wetness and the movement become slippery as it slides with your lubrication. Just when you can tell he's getting antsy and about to whine, you guide it until you feel it at the tip of your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto it and his grip on your ass tightens until it's almost painful.

"Oh," He moans, deeply affected. His hips are still as you let him slowly penetrate you until you're full with him and there's no more room in you to sink down further, "Oh, god, you feel so good."

"How do I feel?" You ask in curiosity, looking at him as he seems dazed with the sensation of your pussy. A sudden thrust upwards into you makes you yelp, his hard penis harshly bumping against your cervix. His eyes are closed as he collects his words.

"You're so warm and fluttering around me," he says, and it's true. You feel yourself squeezing at him at the sight of him, his relief evident, "I've never felt so good; it's like you were meant to have me buried in you."

His words are spoken with conviction, and you're processing it all when he thrusts again. It still hurts, but less now. Your head is spinning, but you catch onto his new rhythm and begin lifting your hips up, forcefully pushing them down on him in time with his thrusts.

Pained but aroused moans spilling from your lips in time with each thrust, you realize your tits are bouncing around in his face with your fucking, swinging around wildly. His grip on your hips tightens impossibly and you see his biceps flex madly when his muscles take over, overriding your own rhythm and violently making you meet his thrusts. The moans from his own mouth gets louder until they're louder than yours, his pace quickening at the sight of your expression above him. You look fucked out and in pain and he relishes in it, knowing the sound of skin slapping against skin is his own doing. He grits his teeth and pulls you all the way down on his length like you were when you got on top at first, shooting his orgasm into the condom but envisioning it shooting straight into your womb.

You hiss in some pain at this large and painful thrust, moaning at the distant feeling of his dick twitching in you. The base of his cock is nestled at your entrance and you feel the entire length of it throbbing in your hot pussy as he takes his time to finish.

"You haven't cum," he says through heavy breaths as he comes down and you know he isn't asking but stating his observation.

"It's still really hot," you admit, "I like how it feels when you cum in me."

Staring up at you, he brings his hands up to your ass again and lifts his hips to inch the both of you towards the head of the bed, reaching towards the bedside dresser and grabbing one of your vibrators, handing it to you. You're still impaled on him and gasp at the sensation of him jerking you forward with him on his dick. Now kneading rhythmically at your tits, he pulls at them like he was milking you, "Cum on my cock."

Wide-eyed, you realize he's perceptive and has noticed your vibrators when you came in.

His gaze is drinking you in, eyes less wild as he stares. When you hesitate, he takes the vibrator from your fingers and turns it on, placing it against your clit as you sit on him. You're impressed he knows where the clit is and you jump at the sensation of the vibrator bumping against it, feeling him thrust up with an overstimulated whimper when you jump.

"Tim," you gasp, "doesn't that hurt?"

"Don't worry about it," he hisses through gritted teeth, "I need to feel you cum on my cock."

So you focus on finding your orgasm, hyperaware of the hard rod resting in your secret place, tracing the sex toy along places near your clitoris and moaning in pleasure as you play with yourself. He whimpers every time you squeeze on him and you squeeze on him any time you find pleasure near your clit. His hands return to milking your tits and you remember that his condom is full of his cum, sloshing around deep inside you and pressing against your cervix. The fear of the condom breaking suddenly rushes you to your first orgasm and you gasp his name, feeling him twitch deep inside you as you repeat his name helplessly in your climax. He strains upwards and his lips catch a nipple, sucking harshly as you begin to come down.

"Keep it there," he growls when you begin to pull your vibrator away, "We're not going anywhere until you cum again."

"Tim," you whimper, "I can't."

"I know you can," he says, thrusting upwards experimentally. The movement makes the vibrator bump against your clit and you squeeze down on him at your own overstimulation, making him groan. He slowly and determinedly begins thrusting into you again, small tears forming in his eyes at the overstimuation.

His stubborn insistence on chasing your second high even though you're both beyond the edge only makes you more aroused and you rut against him. He's not thrusting fully, but more so bumping against your cervix in small movements and you're fraught with a visual of the full condom sloshing around. You wonder if he will cum again into it, if it will become so full with his semen it bursts inside you. This thought along with his steady breast kneading causes the knot to quickly build up in your cunt until it comes undone again, and your second orgasm hits in a fray of overstimulation and whimpering.

"There you go," he coos, legs underneath you twitching at your pulsing movements, "There you go, you did so well. You did so good for me, baby...you were meant for it."

You shudder at the sweet tone, being pulled down for a long kiss. His chest is sweaty, the space in between the bottom of your thighs and the tops of his is slick, and you're gasping against his neck when he holds you. The two of you spend a while in that embrace, regaining your breaths and recovering from the intense session. Your head rests against his collarbone until you stir, slowly lifting yourself off him and breathing through the feeling of his cock sliding out of you. When it's fully out, you collapse next to him on the bed, bringing a leg up to wrap around his as you both take a breather.

You know you told him it was no commitment, no feelings, no drama, but you can't deny yourself a cuddle session after sex regardless. He doesn't speak, but the silence is comfortable as you rest your head against the crook of his chest and side. The atmosphere in the room shifts subtly as the distant sounds of the television fade into the background, replaced by the incessant chirping of Tim's phone.

You can't help but notice the growing urgency in Tim's demeanor as he glances at his device, a furrow forming on his brow. Despite your reluctance, he rises from the bed, his movements hesitant yet determined.

Sitting up despite your whines of protest, Tim looks at his device in concern and reluctance, "I have to take this."

Your initial protest dies on your lips as you watch him leave the room, a knot of unease forming in the pit of your stomach. What could possibly be so pressing at this hour? The uncertainty gnaws at you, feeding into the growing sense of unease.

As you strain to make out the muffled voices from the other room, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. The once familiar sounds of Tim's voice now carry an edge of tension, each word laced with frustration and urgency. It's a stark contrast to the comfortable silence you shared moments ago.

Your heart sinks further as Tim returns, his expression weighed down by an unspoken burden. The air between you feels heavy with anticipation, as if bracing for the inevitable.

"What's wrong?" you venture cautiously, already dreading the answer.

Tim's gaze flickers with a mixture of regret and resignation as he meets your eyes, his voice heavy with apology, "I'm really sorry, but something came up. I have to go."

Your mind races, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in the atmosphere. What could possibly be so urgent? Despite your efforts to remain composed, a wave of insecurity washes over you. Did this mean you weren't important enough to prioritize?

"...Really?" you finally utter, your voice trembling slightly.

"Yes," he reluctantly confirms, a guilty expression on his face, "I'm very sorry, but I need to attend to this."

Wanting to protest but knowing it would be more frustration than it was worth, you nodded slowly at the news, "...Okay."

He starts for the door, ""I wish I could stay, but I really need to go. I'll make this up to you, I swear."

As Tim heads towards the front of your apartment to gather his belongings and dress, you follow behind, hastily pulling on your shirt as you move. Despite the turmoil swirling within, you're determined to maintain a façade of composure, refusing to let the tears welling up inside spill over. The uncertainty gnaws at you as you watch him prepare to leave, a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. You desperately cling to the hope that something truly urgent has come up, unable to bear the thought of him simply walking away after the intimacy you shared. You wonder if you'll be able to face him at school after this, but the thought is so overwhelming to you that you just try to focus on the present moment.

You swallow hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you bid him farewell, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions. As the door clicks shut behind him, you're left standing alone in the hallway, grappling with the aftermath of his abrupt departure.

After a long moment, you decide that freshening up will probably help you feel better and you turn on heel to head towards the bathroom, the goal of brushing your teeth and washing your face the only thing you're ready to focus on in your sudden loneliness.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

@dakota-rain666 @tyga-stripes @obsessedwithromance

[002yb]

If you're fine with it, can we have Jason distracted staring at Dick's back dimples while Tim tries to talk to him about a case?

Tim being well aware that Jason isn't listening to him and knowing there's nothing to be done for it. Because for all intents and purposes, Jason is in another plane of existence. That plane being the one just over Tim's head.

That Dick happens to be standing just behind him is irrelevant, surely. Totally coincidental. (눈_눈)

So there's Tim, trying to do his job. The job Jason requested Tim's assistance on, mind. Because it was important. And yet here Jason is now, being very much distracted by someone who is entirely unrelated to aforementioned important case/job.

Tim takes it in stride if only because it's not a surprise. Jason's crush on Dick isn't exactly a secret. As far as Tim's concerned, it's the only endearing thing about his menace of a brother.

There's something decidedly off about the attention Jason gives Dick this time though. There's nothing of the delicate, flustered maiden Tim is used to whenever Jason discreetly oogles and indulges in all that romantic whimsy of his–just a chilling intensity that has a shiver running up Tim's spine and anticipation making him wonder if he's missed something crucial.

So Tim observes as he rattles on about the case. He knows full well that he'll have to repeat everything later, but Jason's behavior is equal parts concerning and curious.

The way Jason goes from intently watching, neutral until his brows start to furrow and his lips pull down into a frown. A scowl. More and more pensive. Almost bristling.

Tim can't not look, so he casts a furtive glance over his shoulder, discreet and fleeting. And it's just Dick there. Dressed down in the usual athleisure, faced away from them as he looks something over at the large projections of the Batcomputer.

There's nothing to it. It's how Dick always looks after patrol, comfortable in a pair of sweats and a compression shirt. Nothing Jason hasn't flustered over plenty of times before.

Tim still remembers the first time Jason saw Dick dressed down post-patrol. How Dick and Jason were walking past each other, but while Jason kept walking, his head turned to trail after Dick. And how Jason ran into a table, tripped over Damian, and nearly overheated when Dick offered him a hand up. The way Jason's gaze lingered on Dick's bicep, his shoulders as he was hefted up. The way he almost went back down from how bad he was blushing.

It's as Tim is contemplating if Dick did something to provoke Jason's ire that Jason finally makes his move. Disregarding everything Tim says to shove past him and storm across the way, hand reaching out--

And Tim knows that Jason isn't brazen enough to turn Dick around and kiss him or anything like that, but with how puffed up Jason is, who's to say?

Tim is. Because he knows Jason and Jason would fluster and abort and see himself right out of Gotham before confessing his undying, decade long crush.

Which is neither here nor there, because instead Jason just jabs Dick right in the dimple of his lower back. A poke that's a little too vicious to be flirtatious, even for Jason

And Dick's inhale is so sharp that everyone in the cave turns to look

And Tim's eyes widen because fuck, if he thought Jason's stare was chilling, the way Dick glares is cold and severe and... grouchy?

'You're hurt.' Jason goes on to say, unperturbed by the storm he's about to weather

Everyone in the family startling because what?? When? How severe? But also just...how could Jason tell?

And Dick scowls, caught out.

'I'm not hurt.'

Only he is, because Jason scowls and bites back, 'I saw it.'

Which has Dick reeling because how?? He's completely covered. He didn't change with anyone around.

And then it's Jason's turn to get all !!! because he seriously noticed just because of how Dick was standing and the way his back looked through his shirt and somehow Jason's exposed himself in such a terrible way that he just - goes offline. Back to that other plane of existence because well, shit.

The most belated and petulant of, 'it doesn't matter.' before Jason starts fretting

Which makes Dick soften up a bit, because Jason being so caring is such a darling thing. ;3;

And then Dick twists and pulls up his shirt enough to show that he's fine, just bruised and a little swollen.

Jason being such a maiden that he has to look away because just that is too much SOS.

Then they get lost in the chitchats and Tim is still just standing there with his report on a very important case, existing entirely outside of Jason's rose-colored bubble and oh, how Tim wants to pop it so bad lol

[wil-fae]

Just wanted to say thank you guys for all the support <3 you guys are literally so kind, and i love posting on here :] anyways !! today, i have some grouchy tim !

[absolutely-esme]

Monster!Tim Coraline au part 3

I had more thoughts on the au from here and here.

First off, It's called Hungry Monster Tim au unless and until I come up with a better name.

That's the tag that will help you find related content. I titled the post the way I did so that people who found the au before it had a name could recognize it. I'm hoping this will minimize confusion.

...

Now, I figure I'll talk a bit about how others view Tim.

The most of the earlier additions to the Batfam have mostly interacted with Tim in Emotional Support Tim mode.

Emotional Support Tim is pleasant and comforting. He is not overly exuberant and joyful in a way that would grate on fresh grief. He is also not joyless in a way that might make a hero feel obligated to worry about him. He is gentle and competent. His patience seems nearly endless. He can tolerate both being coddled and being leaned on. He can tolerate both being clung to and pushed away. He can tolerate switching back and forth at unpredictable intervals.

Tim approached Nightwing in his standard state of "tired, low on patience, and possibly about to do something stupid," once before Tim realized he was also grief-stricken and in no fit state to get Batman under control. He might have an inkling that Emotional Support Tim is an act, or he might just think Tim was having a bad day.

Bruce thinks Emotional Support Tim is what Tim is actually like. By the time Bruce was functional enough to not need so much managing, he'd gotten attached enough to the facade for Tim to have concerns about dropping it.

Alfred can tell that Tim is putting on a facade. He can tell that the role Tim has taken on is wearing on him. He doesn't like it. He feels guilty for allowing it to continue. He can't bring himself to put a stop to it when it's keeping his adoptive son alive.

Barbara initially meets Emotional Support Tim, immediately clocks the act, and pulls him aside to make sure there isn't something sinister afoot. Babs has reservations about every aspect of Tim's involvement, but agrees that something had to be done about Bruce. She lets him carry on for now, but she's ready to pull the plug if it seems like it's getting too much for him. She insists that Tim drop the act when it's just the two of them.

Babs doesn't know about the supernatural stuff specifically, but she knows there's more going on with Tim than what she knows about. She may learn that he has some hereditary health stuff that requires him to be extra careful about his food intake. She makes a point to not be weird about it because people being weird about her wheelchair annoys the crap out of her.

I like to imagine that Babs and Tim have a certain amount of solidarity over being the sensible ones who keep all these unhinged, dramatic bitches in line. They also have solidarity over ignoring the fact that they are just as dramatic and unhinged as the rest of the Bats.

Steph meets Tim in Regular Tim mode because Bruce isn't with him. Instead of trying to discourage Spoiler, he introduces her to Babs. Steph knows Tim as a tired smartass who kind of always seems like he's a bit hangry and trying not to take it out on anyone, but apparently he's just like that.

They don't date, but do become friends. Part of this is because grouchy, eternally hungry, constantly done-with-this-shit Tim isn't attractive to Steph but is kind of hilarious. Part of it is because Babs points out that there is no possible timeline where the kind of power imbalance from only one member of a couple knowing the other's secret identity doesn't turn toxic.

When Steph eventually encounters Emotional Support Tim, it creeps her out. She uses the term "pod person" when asking what the heck that was.

Steph's disastrous stint as Robin doesn't happen because she's already got her own thing going. She already has a mentor and appropriate protective gear. Babs and Steph actually get along better because they start their mentorship as Oracle and Spoiler without any of the complicated emotions of taking up a mantle.

I like Steph as Spoiler the best because it always seemed a little messed up to shove someone who already had their own original Identity into two legacy mantles. Let her do her own thing. She doesn't need to be a successor to Babs or Dick when she's already the OG Steph. Instead of giving her the Robin gear or the Batgirl gear, get her some upgraded, Bat-quality Spoiler gear.

Steph doesn't start a gang war or fake her death in this timeline, because the circumstances that caused it do not exist here.

Jason initially encounters Tim in Feral Cryptid mode, then writes that off as a fever dream after waking up to Emotional Support Tim. Once free of the Lazarus parasite, Jason makes it his mission to be a good big brother to Tim. Tim seemed a little stand-offish at first, but warmed up to him. (As soon as Tim realized that food was part of Jason's love language, he rearranged his meal plan to let Jason feed him without triggering supernatural problems with his metabolism.)

Jason eventually manages to earn Tim's trust enough to meet and get to know Regular Tim. Jason is both honored and concerned. Putting on such an extensive facade for the comfort of others has got to be exhausting, and Tim seems so worn down underneath it. Well, he doesn't have to do it for Jason anymore. Jason will happily hang out with and support any version of Tim.

When Damian shows up, he mostly sees Emotional Support Tim. Then he starts trying to kill him. Eventually, Tim's patience with the pint-sized murderer wears thin (possibly due to Damian hitting a PTSD trigger), and Tim goes Feral Cryptid mode. This freaks Damian out. There is no video evidence (which the rest of the Bats assume to be because Damian tampered with the security system in an attempt to get away with murder).

It doesn't happen again.

Tim doesn't bust out his powers or cryptid form against Damian again, but now that he's seen it, Damian sometimes sees traces of Feral Cryptid Tim lurking below the surface. Various little things he'd ignored that hadn't seemed significant on their own now seem to stem from the nature of what lurks inside the human skin.

Damian stops the murder attempts early. It's not because of ethics (which will take time to learn). It’s because he has no idea how to kill whatever sort of unearthly thing Tim is, and he recognizes how unwise it would be to continue attacking something he cannot kill. For now, Tim seems content to leave him be whenever he's not directly under assault. Damian doesn't want to risk becoming enough of a pest to be worth the effort of swatting.

...

I also had thoughts about Tim's post-Robin period.

When Tim goes on his quest to retrieve Bruce from the time stream, he doesn't take the Red Robin suit. He's going to be outside of the Bats' scrutiny, so he gears up with a suit and equipment he'd secretly made with his supernatural nature in mind. It's got Bat-standard armor and padding, but modified to accommodate a bit of form shifting without compromising protection. It's got a patchwork thing going on.

Tim sewed it himself, which allows him to manipulate it. It's also got buttons sewn in strategic locations to eliminate blindspots. (Taking down the beldam gave him the ability to control things he made and see through buttons he sewed).

His utility pouches are full of both Bat-standard equipment and things relevant to Tim's abilities. Also, he makes his pockets bigger on the inside, so he can carry a lot.

Tim isn't around the other Bats, so he's not being Emotional Support Tim. He's not using the minor illusion powers he got from the beldam to make himself look pleasant. He only makes the effort to be comforting when dealing with victims. He's just being the semi-feral scrungly dude he is.

...

Tim keeps in touch with Jason, Babs, and Steph while he's off on his quest to find Bruce. He occasionally pitches in with stuff that can be done from a distance.

Tim didn't say that Bruce was still alive before he had evidence. It's not because this version managed to predict that they wouldn't believe him, but rather because he thought he might have to do some supernatural stuff to get him back and didn't want witnesses. He just told the other Bats he needed to investigate something and would tell them more once he had figured out enough to know what to tell them.

This means that the other heroes don't think he's crazy, and Tim can use hero resources for his investigation.

I haven't decided yet if Tim will interact with the League of Assassins at all. On the one hand, I think this Tim might not need to work with them. On the other hand, Hungry Monster Tim terrorizing the League of Assassins and fighting the Lazarus Pit would be funny. Maybe Ras doesn't try to recruit him. Maybe Tim just shows up, fights the Lazarus Pit, and leaves without explaining anything to anyone.

Either way, I think that Tim is pretty much done with keeping up the Emotional Support Tim facade by the time he comes home after saving Bruce. It's been long enough to justify the change.

Babs, Jason, and Steph are happy for Tim because they can see how much better he's doing without the added strain of keeping up the act. They are also glad that he feels comfortable enough to just be himself.

Bruce and Dick are more in the horrified/concerned neighborhood because, from their perspective, Tim started off gentle-natured and glowing with health, got fired from Robin, disappeared for a while, and came back gaunt and world-weary.

...

I'm thinking about whether or not Tim should tell Babs, Jason, and Steph about the supernatural stuff he's got going on.

It would have come out at some point. If he tries to keep it secret forever, you can bet some kind of dramatic, high-stakes threat would force the reveal. That's just how the Bats' lives are.

What I am debating with myself is whether or not to have Tim choose to share a secret he's been keeping for as long as he can remember for fear of the danger discovery might bring with the people he trusts most without something forcing his hand.

If he does, I think he would tell Jason first. Jason has seen that side of him, and Tim allowed him to think it was a nightmare. Tim wouldn't want to risk Jason hearing about it from someone else. Tim would probably be scared. He doesn't know if Jason will still like him once he knows that Tim really is the Monster from his nightmare. He doesn't know if Jason will forgive him for lying about it.

I think this would happen after Tim comes back to Gotham after saving Bruce.

[jqmalikhsgib]

beauty and the freak

two

when everyone was asleep eddie made it his mission to stay up. he knew you would still be up on your phone scrolling through instagram.

he would wait for you to go downstairs before making his own move. when he heard your bedroom door open he waited patiently before sneaking out of the guest bedroom and heading downstairs himself.

he smirks, you turned away from him. he creeps behind you and gently whispers in your ear. “so, heard you thought i was good in bed princess.”

your whole entire body stilled. you weren’t scared, you were however startled. eddie gently kissed your shoulder.

“i could show you just how good i am. would you like that baby?” he whispers in your ear. he loved seeing you squirm a bit. it was a turn on for him. knowing he had this affect on you with just barely touching you.

“come on baby, don’t get all shy on me now. tell me if you want me to show you? tell me what you want exactly princess?”

you turned your body. he was so close to you, so beautiful, so sexy! you could never understand how people didn’t find him absolutely attractive. he had the whole nerdy bad boy exterior going on, he was in a band, and he was the kindest guy you’ve known. eddie was the kind of guy girls should go after.

you knew he’d treat you right. showing you off and giving you princess treatment, like you deserved! making you feel loved and appreciated. but when doors were closed he’d fuck you like you were just his personal fuck toy. that’s the man you wanted—needed!

“we—what about my friends? what about steve?”

eddie smirks once more. he gently wraps his hands around your neck, squeezing the sides of it. you moan just from the feeling.

“gonna fuck you nice and slow tonight, then, next time, ill fuck you hard and rough. make sure everyone knows you’re mine!”

and he did just that. he made you cum a total of three times that night. the next day he took you to his place and fucked you until your knees gave out.

from that moment the two of you dated in hiding. it was eddies idea. he wasn’t ashamed of you and knew you weren’t ashamed of him. eddie was just the kind of guy that didn’t like people in his personal business.

but after three months of dating you wanted everyone to know. this caused a lot of arguments between the two of you!

you wouldn’t tell him but you secretly liked fighting! afterwards he’d put you back in your place! making sure you knew better than to talk to him like that.

“don’t you ever speak to me like that again! understand?!” and you did. but it didn’t stop you from doing it over and over and over again.

eddie was the only man that could tame you. hell, he was the only person that could keep you in check! everyone else got bitchy, grouchy, bratty yn. he loved that.

it’s why he was ready for people to know. after four months he was ready to tell his friends about you.

they were starting to know a change in his behavior. constantly asking him questions. he was getting sick of it!

he also hated seeing other guys flirt with you during lunch. jason and his dumbass crew trying to get their paws on you. it angered him to no end.

sometimes you’d play along. he knew you were just trying to make him jealous! he just couldn’t help it though.

eddie knew you were the hottest girl in this school. but that doesn’t give others the right to touch something that didn’t belong to them, and you belonged to him! every inch of your beautiful body belonged to him.

and the night he decided enough was enough was when some jock named tim was a little too close to you for his liking. whispering something he sure was stupid in your ear.

when he saw you staring you played along, giggling at him. he could tell it was one of your fake laughs.

gareth was currently going on about something. he didn’t even pretend to listen to him. his anger, possessiveness, and jealousy was getting the better of him.

“eds, are you even listening?”

right at that moment is when tim thought it was a good idea to kiss your cheek. eddie stood up, walking towards your table.

jason stood in his way. “what are you doing here, freak?!”

eddie pushes him out the way and grabs your arm. the whole table looks at him as if he just murdered you in front of everyone.

“get your paws off her psycho?!”

eddie smirks. he turns you around to face all of your friends. “wanna tell em? tell him how your fantasy came true, huh? or should i just fuck you right here in front of the whole school?”

you didn’t break eye contact with your group of friends. smiling because you finally got him jealous enough to tell the whole school you were dating.

“maybe you should. show them who i belong to, babe!” and he did. spinning you around once more and kissing you like his life depended on it.

when you both finally pulled away to catch your breath he whispers in your ear to go sit back down with a promise of a punishment later.

he looks at jason and the other dumb fucks who follow him around before speaking. “if i see any of you goons touching my property, i will not hesitate to fuck you up. that goes for the rest of you fucktards in this school. yn belongs to me!”

you couldn’t help but smirk. the rest of that day was filled with questions. mostly asking you why you’d fuck the freak. but your answer was simply the same each time,

“why not?!”

from then on everyone left it alone. and as a year goes by, you and eddie’s relationship remains strong and still a mystery to the whole school population.

alright the first two chapters were just an introduction to their relationship. now we get on with their dynamic!!!

im excited to write this one.

if you wanna be added or unadded to my taglist please let me know. if you wanna be added to every single one of my eddie fics please tell me <3

taglist:

@lov3withurgency @sunshineandwitchery @melaninjhs @baileebear @am0iur

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Binged Batman Beyond recently and while I do love grouchy old man Bruce Wayne I think the show tends to downplay the character's personal failings.

The entire reason the "Batfamily" is just him and Ace is because he pushed away everyone else. It's why Terry is the new Batman instead of one of the others.

Hell, it almost drives Terry away too. Because Bruce refuses to explain or apologize for his behavior. Even blaming the rest of the family for "not having what it takes" instead of owning up to his mistakes.

And the solution to this lack of emotional availability is for everyone else to be "understanding" instead of just having Bruce Wayne admit he's wrong.

Because the writers can't think of a way to acknowledge that the trauma that defined the Batman is hurting the very cause it spawned.

Sure the worst offender was the Justice League Unlimited: Epilogue episode but the seeds of that were planted in Batman Beyond.

Bruce's refusal to address his trauma is what isolated him for decades. Why Gotham had no Batman until Terry. And, it's implied, why Bruce lost control of his parents' company with the Wayne-Powers merger.

You don't even have to change the story all that much. The idea that Bruce's isolation led him to lose hope in his mission, save Gotham, is already there in the subtext. (Exacerbated by the Joker's torturing of Tim but that falls under the "trauma that wasn't addressed" umbrella)

Terry gave Bruce hope again.

I'd just prefer not to see that undercut by the writers making excuses for Bruce's character when he lapses back into unhealthy patterns.

[starwarsmum]

Day 7 of Maribat BioFamily September! I managed a whole week! Prompt of the day is Love Languages

@maribat-calendar-events

The manor has been quiet ever since Marinette had gone home after the trial of Hawkmoth had ended. Damian had resorted to his usual grouchy manner and everyone was much less physically affectionate with one another.

The change hadn't been immediate. Tim had made a point to do a daily video call to begin with, and anyone who was available would crowd around the laptop to say hello. But as they all fell back into their routines, video calls became phone calls, which became texts. And the thing with texts, at least for the Batfamily, was that there were certain times they couldn't answer.

So now, after two months, the family were back to their emotionally constipated ways and Dick hated it. As another person who thrived from physical affection, he missed the way his new little sister would launch herself at him to say hello. Or the way she would spend quiet time with Damian, which seemed to mellow him out more than anything else anyone had tried.

Or how, when Tim was crashing from a caffeine high and needed more to keep going, she magically appeared with a fresh cup, and some cookies she'd baked with Jason who, surprisingly, found a sense of calm in kneading dough and learning something new. Even Steph, exuberant as she was, had withdrawn somewhat, no longer having Marinette to watch sappy romcoms with.

So when Bruce suggested they invite Marinette back for the summer, Dick had been overjoyed. He had immediately booked off two weeks so that he could fully immerse himself in the experience of Time with MarinetteTM. He even decided he would live in the manor with everyone else as much as he could.

They all made a special effort to be at the manor when Alfred told them that he would be collecting Marinette from the airport. Well, all except Damian who everyone said would probably do better picking her up than helping with the welcome party effort. To everyone's surprise, Damian agreed to go without any argument.

Dick was charged with getting the decorations up, given he was the most able to climb. Steph and Jason were choosing music, having agreed that they would both add songs into a playlist and go from there. Tim was arranging some party games - karaoke, a few board games some cards - while Cass stayed out of the way. 

Duke was still on the day patrol, although they planned for him to arrive back while the festivities were still happening and swap out with Bruce and Steph. Barbara was due to arrive any second with a trivia quiz to round out the night, and Dick couldn't wait.

_ _ _

When Marinette landed in the airport, she had so much energy that she practically vibrated while going through customs. Everyone who spoke with her gave her indulgent smiles, and she dragged her luggage into arrivals. Looking around, she squealed as she spotted the green eyed boy that she had been steadily falling in love with over the past couple of months.

He caught her up as she flung her arms around him, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. He had grown a little taller in her absence and her toes scraped the floor as she clung to him. He put her down after several moments, smirking down at her before she pulled him down into a kiss.

“Alfred is waiting for us, Angel,” Damian said at last, brushing a hand against her cheek gently. She beamed up at him, heart full of joy, but she let him pull away and take her luggage. “You have brought a lot with you, were you planning on staying for longer than the summer?”

“No, silly,” she giggled, picking up one of her bags. Damian grabbed her rolling suitcase and the other bag, motioning towards the door. “I brought the gifts I've been making for everyone. It's been kind of…lonely without you all in Paris.”

Damian hummed in agreement before pulling her to a stop just before they stepped into the open air. He leaned towards her, kissing her softly and she melted into him again. They had agreed that they would keep their budding relationship to themselves for now, not wanting the others to meddle before they knew if it would work.

While they had been long distance, they had gotten to know each other fairly well; Marinette asked questions about his favourite classes, hobbies, his friends, and Damian asked about her dreams for the future now that there was no supervillain terrorising Paris. They'd watched films for date nights, streaming things at the same time and chatting about them. 

In spite of that, it just wasn't the same as being in the same city. So before they were sucked back into the family dynamics, it was nice to reconnect by themselves. And when she pulled back again, he chased her for a moment which filled her with warmth.

“Hi, Monsieur Alfred,” she said as they approached the car. The butler smiled at her, helping to put her luggage in the trunk before opening the door for Damian and her. They talked quietly in the backseat, not touching but not leaving a lot of distance between them. When they pulled up to the manor, Damian stepped out of the car first and offered his hand back to her. She giggled as she let him pull her out and said softly, “Thank you, Dami.”

Inside the manor, everyone cheered when she came in, and Marinette was overwhelmed with happiness at how much effort they'd gone to for her. They spent the next few hours playing games and catching up until Dick excitedly said that they had set up karaoke.

“Before we move over to that, I need to give you all something!” Marinette trilled, grabbing one of the bags and pulling out delicately wrapped parcels. She moved around the room, handing them out and she could see the surprised faces of everyone except Damian. When someone asked what the occasion was, she merely shrugged and blushed lightly. “I just like making things for people, and since you all are basically family now, I wanted you to have something from me.”

There was a moment of silence before Steph impatiently ripped open her parcel. She stopped short as she pulled out a pair of pyjamas that was reminiscent of her Spoiler suit. Nobody else having waited to open the gifts once they heard Steph do so, they all similarly pulled up short as their alter-ego personas were put into sleepwear form. One by one they all swung back to stare at Marinette, although Damian merely looked amused.

“Was I not supposed to work out that Jason and Tim, who are exactly the same size and shape as the two vigilantes I met on the Watchtower, were Red Hood and Red Robin? Please, I'm a designer, measuring people by sight is kind of my thing. None of you even have magic to disguise you, how no-one has worked out that the Batfamily just so happens to be the same number of people as all of you is absurd.”

There was silence throughout the room until Tim pulled the rest of his gift out of the wrapping and gasped. Marinette giggled when he turned back to her, gaping. His hands were gripping the clothes tightly and the rest of the family were watching him with concern in their eyes.

“I figured if I was telling you I knew your identities, you deserved to know my other secret,” she said, the words making Tim stare at her wordlessly for several more minutes. “I mean, aren't you all supposed to be the world's greatest detectives? Kind of embarrassing that I had to spell it out for you, my initials are literally MDC.”

Her words were met with stunned silence as everyone immediately turned over their gifts to find her signature stitched into the tags. She was then buried under a pile of loving people.

[kiragecko]

Conceptually Jason coul have made a really good villain for Robin Tim.

I got into the fandom about 6 months before Damian showed up. And there WAS quite a bit of villain!Jason fanfic at the point, most of it centred around him and Tim. I really enjoyed it.

I like the current fanon Jason better, now. I like him as a grouchy and somewhat unstable brother. I like him as a book nerd and chef. I like him firmly believing everyone hates him while they desperately try to convince him to come home. I even like a lot of the stuff where the Pit is almost another personality which he is fighting!

But there's something REALLY intriguing about a Jason who's actually cruel. Who's completely in control of himself, and just likes hurting people. It's not really fair to the character, but I still enjoy it!

(I feel similarly about evil Talia. It isn't fair to the character, but the fanfic is fun!)

[mamawasatesttube]

ohhhggnnh when will i learn not to ever look at the timkon tag... ohhgnnh my foolish thoughts of "maybe i will see pretty art and get in the mood to keep writing!" foolish foolish FOOLISH

anyway um. i think shovel talks are a fucking terrible trope and i wish they would die off already <3

[bookwormlover10]

I need a fan fic ( or au) were Wayne family adventures Bruce decides to adopt old Dcau Bruce

You with me on this...ok so This is my pitch how it would go.

So it starts with wfa Bruce somehow ( maybe is the justice league or something else you decide) gets transported to the Dcau universe but in the beyond era. The man is obviously very confused it could be the taller and bigger Gotham or it could be the teenager with attitude calling himself batman.

Eneway he runs into the tomorrow knight and after some light confrontation Terry takes him to the bat cave were he meets the eder Bruce Wayne. After confirming things old Bruce dismissed Terry for the night

While things settle down wfa Bruce noticed that this old Bruce is lonely. This Bruce is all alone For the most part.( With expectations of course. The dog and this Terry fellow) The House looks hunted with romes are empty and dark. Alfred seems to be dead. It seems that he didn't have much sidekicks( sorry that the only way to explain the bat heros ) judging by the display case. He's pretty sure the doesn't have a Damian either. The kicker thought is when he shows a picture of his family to the older Bruce gave him a sad smile and said " that lovely but do me a favor don't mess up like I did."

Some how there is a way home with it with the beyond era justice league or the wfa Batfamily you decide. While going though the way home wfa Bruce decided 'you know what I'm taking this sad Old man with me' and surprises adoption to old Bruce. he just assumed that Terry well be fine. Yes Ace will run after his owner.

As expected old man Bruce doesn't take to kindly to the batnaping. His is pissed. His like " I'm supposed to be a warning! That wasn't a aboption call !" And like " Terry needs me! " He scolded wfa Bruce like an angry father.

I bet your wondering what the wfa Batfamily thing about this. Well one their Bruce explain his reasoning there like... Ok.... Then go along with it. They get a new grand-bat

The bat kid are ok with having a new grand-bat. But as time Bass they noticed that their new grand-bat is why more grouchy than their Bruce and some how More traumatized. I mean the old man said that dangling somebody off a roof was too soft. He looked at Alfred like hes a ghost ( maybe to him he is ) Every time Old man Bruce sees Dick and tim he always gives them a sad look with regrets and avoid them at all cost. Tim more so. Like Tim is his greatest failure.

Tim : why is he looking at me like that.

Jason: yea so

Tim: that the thing he's looking at me like...( Comes to the realization) .. like Bruce looks at you

Jason: huh !

Dick: ( is crying in a corner) at least he doesn't look at you like you hate him!

Old Bruce does try to escape and go home. Like there a Terry that needs him at home. Hes escape atemts fall though it comes to a pont stop thing " what would a Bruce do" to " what would a Terry do." And starts to make their life miserable. He starts to hack into the bat computer making their equipment act weird and pulls brakes on them. Thought he doesn't do it when he thinks that their a ligiment threat. They might have kidnapped him but he still has his morals after all these years.

Damien likes Old Bruce hes like the grandfather that Damien always wanted. He's tuff and experienced but not to mean ( still mean but not as much as he was when he first met Terry. thanks you Terry for softening the old bat up) . He gives him compliments when needed but well scold you when you do something stupid. He gives him head pats sometimes. He even has that mysterious old people candy that Jon was telling him. About. Not to mention he's has great taste in pets. ( Damien likes Ace very much.) Damien came to know this this Bruce never had a him. That fact made Damien a little sad. He always thought that there was a him with his father in every universe. He also thinks that his mother isn't with them in his universe cause every time he asks about his mother in his universe he always gives a sad smile and says " your mother was a very beautiful woman. With a good heart." The key word was was. Meaning that she was dead. He doesn't dare ask about his grandfather. The old bat does try to convince Damian to stop being Robin cause how kind get hurt. ( Cause you know trama ) Damien them mention this Terry fellow.Damian then decided that they need to keep the old man.

Old Bruce then release that these kids are traumatized and he became a little soft on the wfa Batfamily. He's everything started to open up to them. He starts telling them stories about his batman and justice league days. The bat kids are all surprise that welly West was a founding member of the justice league in his universe. He also gave wfa Bruce creeks and help him be a better batman. ( With all of the Batfamily to he honest) Tim and Jason eventually asked him to what happened to his Tim Drake. So old Bruce explained his Tim backstory and the joker jr situation. The bat boys than made the concussion that his Tim Drake is was more of a Jason Todd a Timmy todd if you will. When Tim and Jason explain both of their backstory to the old bat.

Wfa Bruce ( and Batfamily to an extent) does eventually feel gently about surprises adopting old man Bruce especially with how much he mentions Terry. Wfa Batfamily can tell that they have a father and son relationship. He said how he proud of him. He mentioned his grate battles or what Terry did for him . That wfa Batfamily can tell how much Terry means to the old bat. They know that he wasn't comply alone

Then eventually there's a knocking on the door of Wayne maner only to reveal a pisst of Dcau Tim going full Jason Todd on there ass. ( He has a gun and he's not afraid to use it ) an angry Terry mcginnis and Dcau Wally West is there cause I like him. You can also have Dcau dick Grayson there to.

See he has people who do care about him.

Then old man Bruce got to go home but the wfa Batfamily can still visit there grand bat in neo-Gotham

I also have a similar Idea but we're Damien kidnapped Timmy todd and Dcau dick is on the journey. Let me know if you want to here that to.

[happyfirstpri]

It’s always “Dick’s the drama queen” or “Jason’s the drama queen”, WRONG. There has never been just one drama queen in the family because THEY ARE ALL DRAMA QUEENS.

They will do the absolute most at the slightest annoyance simply because they CAN and are CAPABLE of it.

Dick is exceptional at ghosting and will cut off communication for days on end, Jason will throw a fit and make it very clear he’s grouchy, Tim won’t help you on anything and throw himself into terrifying Red Robin antics after disappearing of the face of the world, Cass is the master of ignoring and pretending people don’t exist when provoked, Damian will send any sharp object in his vicinity flying if approached, Duke will slip into the shadows to dodge and avoid like it’s no one’s business.

Steph will make it routine to talk shit for 30 minutes to an hour everyday or outright start biting if too close, Babs will make sure receiving notifications from any gadget will start auto playing all 2 minutes and 55 seconds of Caramelldansen.

Bruce ALSO has drama queen tendencies, he will lock himself away in his room, lock people out of the batcave, or come up with some scheme to cause someone humiliation as Brucie Wayne.

And Alfred will refuse to cook anything other than British food until apologized to. He has standards but he isn’t above making cold beans on toast.

THEY ARE ALL DRAMATIC❗️❗️ NO ONE IS SAFE❗️❗️❗️

[prfctparis]

I’d Give You My Lungs So You Could Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) CH4

AO3 Link / One / Prev / Next / Masterlist

summary:

Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.

Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.

a/n:

i am so sorry for such the long wait!! but here’s ch4 finally lmao hope you guys enjoy :)

warnings for entire fic:

canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: Alfred tells Bruce of Danny’s injuries, but nothing in explicit detail

CHAPTER FOUR —

Tonight did not go the way Bruce thought it would.

The day started out peaceful enough. For his family, that was. Tim had stayed the night after patrol rather than heading back to his place in the city, so he and Damian, both half asleep still, had gotten into a snarky quarrel about cereal bowls, of all things. Apparently there was favorite bowl; it was the perfect size and depth. Damian woke up first, grabbed it, and Tim became grouchy when he discovered that.

Bruce had then taken the bowl away when they wouldn’t stop arguing about it, handed it to Duke who had entered the kitchen at that exact moment, and continued on to get a plate of French toast that Alfred had made and a large mug of coffee. He dutifully ignored his sons’ complaints while his other son just went along with what had just happened.

Then Alfred took Duke and Damian to school, Stephanie appeared out of nowhere to drag Tim into helping her study for college finals that were coming up, and Cass regularly sent him pictures of Hong Kong as a means to let him know every thing was going smoothly for the case that had lead her back over there. Bruce called Dick during his lunch hour at WE, tried to get out of an afternoon meeting only for Lucious and Tim (who was now only a partial shareholder instead of the majority shareholder, since that went back to Bruce) to drag him to it anyway, and told Jason that he might have found something to aid him in one of his cases through e-mail because, once again, Jason had blocked his number.

Bruce had no idea what warranted it this time, and he was hesitant to ask.

All in all, it was a normal day. He might even describe it as a good day. So, of course, he expected patrol to be hell. Maybe a breakout of some sort; an intense hostage situation; one of his children getting majorly injured again; a near death experience or two. Possibly more than one of those, or even all of them. That was what Bruce Wayne – Batman – expected.

Not this.

Not Damian having two secret, older, biological siblings.

Not a group of kids in their late teens obviously on the run, brave faced but scared.

Not a daughter finding him on a random roof on the verge of a panic attack, brave façade crumbling with the fear her brothers weren’t okay.

Not a son no older than eighteen having been vivisected by someone Bruce has yet to find out, and warranting Alfred to perform emergency surgery on him.

After Damian, Bruce swore he was done. No more kids for him; the children and pseudo-children he had were enough. The amount of love he had for them was immeasurable, and with them – because of them – Bruce had a mountain of happiness in his life among all the other shitty and dark valleys of depression and torment.

Now he’s learned Talia had lied yet again.

First, about having a miscarriage back when she had been pregnant with Damian. Second, about how before that, from their first meeting five years prior, she already had twins.

His twins.

Damian had also lied, yet he had been told to do so and promised to by his older sister herself. And he had no idea why.

It occurred to him, then, that Jason knew as well. He recognized Damian’s sister on the roof.

It hurt to know that they knew yet didn’t tell him. Everything about the current situation hurt, if he was to be honest.

“My name is Athanasia al Ghul,” Bruce’s daughter, introduced herself as he helped clean, re-bandage, and stitch her injuries. “My twin– our brother… He was born Dányál al Ghul, but he got adopted when he was ten. Legally, his name is now Daniel Fenton. He goes by Danny most of the time.”

It was surreal. Bruce had to keep himself from questioning her until he got answers – about her, Danny, why Talia never mentioned either of them, why Athanasia told Damian to keep them a secret, what and who they were running from and why, and tens of others. It wasn’t hard to do, but the urge was still there.

Making sure his daughter (he had another daughter) got some much needed medical attention took precedence over that.

For now, he would merely let her speak to him on her own terms.

“Do you have a preferred name you go by?” Bruce asked, because his eldest went by ‘Dick’ and Tim hated it when ‘Timothy’ was used and Steph only let ‘Stephanie’ slide if the person was a stranger and Cass didn’t care one way or another, but she did seem to like when the family used the shortened version of her name more. If Athanasia wanted a specific name or nickname used, he planned to use it.

“My brothers called me ‘Ana’ sometimes,” she said. “Hardly anyone else calls me that, but I won’t mind you do, too.”

Bruce nodded and smiled. He finished bandaging the newly stitched up cut on her thigh as he said, “I will be sure to remember that, then.”

“I still will if you want me to,” Damian spoke up immediately from the other cot he sat on. His foot was propped up and an ice pack laid on his ankle, curtesy of Duke who had brought it over a few minutes ago; he seemed to want to stay, but got dragged away by Jason almost immediately.

What his youngest said took Bruce by surprise. Damian wasn’t the type to use nicknames or shortened versions of names; the exceptions were probably Jon Kent and Maps Mizoguchi. And, now, apparently the twins.

And he offered to.

One corner of her mouth twitched up before she smothered it, going for a neutral expression. Bruce still saw something akin to happiness and relief in her eyes as she nodded. “I wouldn’t mind that at all,” she said, “As long as I can still call you ‘Dames’.”

Damian pressed his lips into a thin line to lessen the size of his smile that he then twisted in a faux frown of annoyance. “If you must.”

Bruce refrained from reacting to that. He knew that Tim tried to call Damian that once, and his youngest son had a very sudden, negative reaction to it. Tim went to Bruce later that day, guilty and frustrated, because he didn’t mean to upset Damian and now they were at odds again; Bruce only got the story out after a spar.

It certainly made some sense now, why he had reacted like that. And also why he was more tolerant of ‘Dami’ than everyone thought he would originally be, back when Dick first started using it.

…A lot of things about Damian made sense now.

Bruce wondered often about how Damian, an apparent only child, grew accustomed to older brothers and a sister rather seamlessly. Well, after he stopped attempting to murder Tim, of course; and after he stopped insisting that he didn’t have siblings, that he was the only blood son and therefore superior than the others.

(He still occasionally pulled the blood son card. More so now to annoy the others, than anything.)

He grew accustomed seamlessly to the others because of Athanasia and Danny. He had always been the youngest. He was used to nagging, protective, annoying older siblings already.

It made Bruce emotional in so many ways.

The next fifteen minutes or so were spent in silence as Bruce finished tending to Athanasia’s wounds. When he got done, he stepped back to give her space as he picked up everything he had used.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked her.

“No,” she said. Athanasia almost sounded confused on why he asked, and Bruce sincerely hoped he imagined it. No one of any age should be confused when asked that. “Thank you, Batman.”

“Of course.”

Footsteps, hesitant and soft, grew close, catching their attentions. The redhead, Wesley ‘Wes’ Weston as he introduced himself as earlier, stopped a few feet away. His posture and the way his hands sat in his pockets said casual, but his muscles were tense and his expression held exhaustion.

“Wesley,” Athanasia said as a greeting.

Wes half smiled. “Hey.”

Bruce frowned a little. “Is everything okay?”

The teenager nodded. “Oh, yeah. Um, the others just want to talk about something as a whole. I came to get Ana.”

Bruce saw Damian straighten just the tiniest bit in his peripheral.

Athanasia began to get out of the cot, but Bruce held out a hand. She froze, so he kept his hand in the air rather than placing it on her shoulder like he was about to. Then, lowered it.

“You need rest. I’m sure the conversation can wait,” Bruce said to them.

Wes shook his head. “It can’t. It’s important.”

“Talking does not require extensive body movement,” Athanasia said. “And I’m sure Wesley is right about the importance. I can rest later.”

“You need rest now.”

Athanasia stared him dead in the eye and got out. She stood in front him, back straight and no sign of discomfort or pain.

She was tall for a girl, he noticed for a second time that night. Maybe a bit taller than Tim, if not the same height, but still shorter than Dick. The way she stood reminded him a lot of Talia, but that defiant look was something Damian definitely learned from her at a young age.

“I’m eighteen – an adult,” she spoke in Arabic, and that fact made his heart hurt. “I know my own limits by now. I will rest later.”

She then pivoted on her feet and walked off. As she passed Wes, she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt to drag him along. Other than a slight noise of surprise at being forcibly turned around in the opposite direction, the boy didn’t seem that fazed.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed behind the cowl at him as Wesley casually grabbed Athanasia’s hand to remove her grip. Her fingers twitched, almost holding his hand instead, before she pulled away and quickened her pace.

‘Acquaintances’ she said.

Damian huffed. “I don’t like him.”

“Hn.”

Alfred stepped halfway out of the curtained off area and requested his presence. A surge of panic washed over him and he walked over, telling Damian to stay put. Whatever Alfred needed, he hoped it was better than all the negative thoughts now plaguing his mind.

+++

Athanasia ached – for multiple reasons.

The soreness and pain was finally, truly settling in post-fight. With the adrenaline gone, and now able to relax with Danny being taken care of, she was way more aware of what hurt and what didn’t, except for the number areas where Batman had to do stitches. She probably should have asked for Tylenol or Ibuprofen. She didn’t.

Then, there was Damian. Her baby brother. She said that he was still short earlier, and he was, but he had also grown so much. Watching him from afar when she visited Gotham kept that fact from settling in until now.

He wasn’t the tiny, baby faced nine year old anymore. His hair used to be medium brown and wavy, but over the past few years it’s gotten a few shades darker and now the strands curled like her own. His limbs were lanky as he began to enter his teenage years, the baby fat was disappearing, and he was much taller than a nine year old. He stood and had the mannerisms and forming attitude of any other 13 year old.

Dányál was whole entirely different type of ache from realizing Damian had grown and the pain of her injuries. It was tangled up in anger and fear. At the GIW and Ra’s, and what they did to him.

She almost felt ten again, following the servant in the shadows to the Lazarus Pits. Except this time, there were no pools of bright green liquid to heal him to assure survival. Just the talented Penny-One, Alfred Pennyworth, the butler of Wayne Manor and doctor of the Batcave and a pseudo grandfather to many.

And her father… He was kind and gentle in a way she hadn’t expected. Yes, Jason said he was a good man, but she honestly never was able to picture it. Batman? The man who took down criminals nightly? Gentle? It was jarring, but not completely unwelcome.

It hurt knowing he was like that, and Mother kept them at the League of Assassins. It hurt that she now knew Jason spoke the truth, and Mother knew too, and even after Ra’s ran a sword through her son’s chest, she still kept them there. That she didn’t have her servant take her and Damian, too, and rather acted as if Dányál had truly died.

It hurt because she still didn’t believe it. Obviously he trained with the other members of the family, but all Athanasia was able to picture were the training tactics and punishments of the League. Batman trained with them, years ago, after all. Who’s to say he didn’t use the same ones on his kids?

And then there was Wesley. No one knew about Wesley. Not even the rest of Team Phantom. She even kept herself from thinking about it until the mission of finding and saving her brother was done.

Manson and Foley were the first members of the team she’d met – technically. Wesley Weston wasn’t a member when she first visited Amity Park and met him. They grew close; then Athanasia panicked and ran away left town, only to come back when the GIW took over. She felt bad for leaving him, truly, and she didn’t understand why he didn’t seem to be as angry as she thought he’d be.

There were so many aching emotions within her. It was almost overwhelming. Athanasia wanted to rest; she knew her father was right that she needed to. But they weren’t out of the woods yet. Gray and Wesley needed to get back to Amity Park to get Ellie, and then figure out a way to get to Jazz Fenton, or at least somehow inform her of everything that happened.

They needed to figure out what, exactly, they were going to tell Batman about Dányál and literally everything else.

Athanasia sat down where the others had gathered – far enough away so they wouldn’t be heard, but still seen – and made short eye contact with Wesley when he sat in the only free spot beside her. They both looked away at the same time.

Gray and Manson had their own share of fresh bandages, but hardly the amount Athanasia had. Foley had one. A lucky shuriken cut his bicep and an ectoblast singed the bottom hem of his shirt, but other than that he was fine yet exhausted. Wesley was the only one injury free.

A pack of water bottles sat on the edge of the table. Everyone already had one when she got to the table. Foley was the closest to the pack, and he took one out and rolled it over to her without a word. There was a bottle of migraine medicine by Manson’s elbow where she was laying her head down.

“So,” Gray began to start the conversation. “Batman. I thought you were taking us to your dad?”

“I was, but I knew he would bring us to Batman anyway, so when I spotted him I decided to cut out the middle man.”

“Are you sure we can trust him?” asked Foley.

Athanasia nodded. “As a member of the Justice League, I fully believe Batman is trustworthy.”

“Exactly,” he sighed. “He’s a JL member – a founding member. In hindsight, it’s a good thing they have never visited Amity because that would risk any of them getting possessed, but not one member has checked on our town.”

“Well, actually,” interrupted Gray, “there was that British dude in a trench coat, remember? He smoked a lot. I think he mentioned a…Justice League Dark, or something? It was two or so years ago, so I’m not really sure.”

“Oh him!” Foley started laughing. “Oh, Ancients, how did I forget? Danny scared the shit out of him!”

Manson didn’t move, but she did snort amusedly. “That was hilarious.”

“So… What are we telling Batman?” Wesley asked when the laughter died down.

“Not everything,” said Manson. She finally lifted her head, and placed her hands around her eyes to block out some of the light. “For one, we need to figure out if he knows of the Anti-Ecto Act. We need to explain what’s happening in Amity Park, too. As for everything else… Danny should be the one to explain his powers and everything. Not even Athanasia knows it all.”

It was true. It annoyed her. She knew he had to have gotten the powers somehow, but Danny’s friends were tight lipped about it. All she knew was that Danny had ghost-like abilities, could change his looks, and also had whatever an ‘ice core’ was. She shouldn’t know about that last one, but she overheard Foley and Manson talking one night.

By eavesdropping she had hoped things would begin to make sense regarding her twin’s powers. Rather, it did the exact opposite.

“Batman will dig for answers,” Athanasia warned them. “He’s a detective – a good one, possibly the best in the world.”

Manson frowned.

“Then we give him enough info to keep him happy until Danny wakes up,” Foley said. “Then, he can make the decision on telling Batman everything else.”

“What about the others?” asked Gray. She looked at Athanasia. “Batman, sure. But does that include Robin? I saw you with them both earlier.”

“Robin is as trustworthy as Batman. All of the Bats and Birds in Gotham are, including Nightwing in Blüdhaven.”

“You sound so sure for someone who doesn’t know them personally,” Manson said.

Athanasia raised an eyebrow. “I never said I didn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You never said you did, either.”

“Sam has a point,” Foley said.

“About what?”

“You never said if you did or didn’t know these vigilantes personally. You said you were taking us to your dad, and we’re here instead.”

Athanasia’s brows knitted together. “I said my father would have brought us to him, anyway. Why does that matter?”

“Because you said nothing about him in the first place.”

“Why does that matter?” she repeated. “Where do you think we would end up taking Dányál? Certainly not Arkham.”

“I don’t know, but it would be nice if you told us things,” he said, tone turning frustrated. “Like, who was the old dude you wanted to avoid?”

“That isn’t important right now,” she forced out. She knew she had to tell them about Ra’s, but she planned to do that later.

Manson scoffed as Wesley hesitantly said, “Well, no. It kinda is.”

“You mood completely changed when Tucker mentioned him on comms,” Gray said.

Athanasia drew in a deep breath through her nose. “That is not,” she spoke slow and low, “important right now.”

“Like hell–” Gray began.

“Why does it matter right now?” she stressed. “Can we focus on what is happening right now?”

“Whoever the fuck the old man is who came out of the room where they kept our best friend is isn’t important?” Manson asked incredulously.

“For now, yes!”

“How?! That makes no sense!”

“It really doesn’t make sense,” Wesley agreed, with Gray nodding along in agreement.

“C’mon, Ana, just–”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped at the other boy.

Taken aback, Foley frowned. “But Wes calls you that?”

Athanasia shrugged. “I knew him before you guys,” she admitted after a beat of silence.

His eyes, along with Manson’s and Gray’s, went to Wesley.

“It’s true,” he said with a nod.

Gray leaned her forearms on the table. “So, did you know about the assassin thing?”

“No.” Wesley’s tone wasn’t exactly clipped, but it was clear that he wasn’t happy.

Athanasia held back a grimace.

Gray’s eyes flicked between them, and a spark of realization flashed in her eyes. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ and she nodded slowly. “Well,” she said, somewhat awkwardly, “have fun talking that out.”

She crossed her arms and shifted in her seat. “Can we get back on track? Please.”

“That old guy–”

“Say it one more fucking time, Manson, I swear,” she snapped.

“Or what?”

“I will make that splitting headache of yours literal.”

Someone cleared their throat behind her. Everyone looked in that direction, and Athanasia was mildly surprised to see her father’s most recent foster kid standing there with a silver tray of sandwiches. He wore a t-shirt and basketball shorts and shoes, and had on a the helmet from the Signal suit. She knew he wore a domino mask earlier, so he must have switched one for the other when everyone else was too busy to notice.

“Athanasia, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s me. You’re Signal.”

Signal – or rather, Duke Thomas – nodded as well. “Yep. Hood said you guys might be hungry so he snuck off and made these real quick.” He set the tray on the table.

“Oh,” she said, still a little surprised but pleased, because honestly Jason made some of the best food. “Thank you, Signal.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Wait, Hood?” Foley choked out. “As in, the Red Hood?”

When she and Signal both nodded, Manson sarcastically said, “Oh, so the one you do know personally is the Ancients-damned crime lord. Great.”

“Why is a crime lord working with Batman?” Gray questioned.

“He’s a Bat,” Signal told her. “And these days, he’s more an anti-hero.”

“Former crime lord, then,” she said. “That’s suspicious.”

“Not if they’re family,” Wesley said

Athanasia looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Signal just stared at him and didn’t make a sound. When he noticed, Wesley shifted in his seat, seeming a bit awkward and uncomfortable from Signal’s stare.

“How do you know that for sure?” she asked him.

Wesley shrugged. “I don’t, it’s one of my theories. I’m not sure if it’s an uncle-nephew thing, a father-son thing, or pseudo family thing, or a brother-brother thing, or what, but I believe it’s something along those lines. Otherwise, why isn’t Batman treating Red Hood like any other criminal, like Bane?”

“Hood is nothing like Bane,” Signal stated. The corners of his mouth had turned down into a frown, and Athanasia noticed the defensive and protective undertone.

Honestly, she almost said the same thing in the same way.

By the way Wesley’s eyes widened, he noticed Signal’s tone, too. He raised his hands. “Hey, man, I didn’t say he was. That’s just the first criminal who came to mind!”

Signal stared at him for another second, visibly unnerving Wesley even more, then finally looked away. “Anyway. Eat the sandwiches if you’re hungry.” Then, almost resigned, “If you need anything, please tell me. I’m stuck babysitting to make sure Robin doesn’t walk on his ankle, and that kid is borderline grumpy on good days.”

Athanasia smirked. “Good luck.”

“Ugh.”

When he walked away, Wesley spoke up again. “My family theory is growing.”

“Please don’t start trying to figure out their identities,” Foley practically begged. “I’d like to stay on their good sides.”

Silence.

Foley sighed.

“Seriously, Wes?” Gray complained.

“We can talk about Wes’ obsession with secret identities later–”

“It’s not an obse–”

Manson cut him off with a glare. “Later,” she emphasized. “Batman. GIW. The assassins. What and how much are we telling him?”

Much to Athanasia’s relief, she didn’t try to bring up Ra’s again to get her to explain. Her shoulders relaxed at that, and conversation finally got back on track.

+++

Much to Bruce’s short lived relief, all Alfred needed him for was to give him an extra set of hands to apply bandages to the teen. They were almost done. It took longer than Bruce liked, simply because he had so many injuries, old and new.

Alfred finished wrapping bandages around the boy’s torso. Gently and carefully, Bruce laid him back down, having been holding him up to make things easier.

He stared down at Danny. Even under anesthesia from surgery and with a safe amount of morphine to ease the pain, his face was still slightly pinched in a way that told them something still hurt. Bruce wished he knew what else he could do to help him. His kid.

Danny and Athanasia, he thought. Another son, another daughter. One who had one giant wound on his chest and other smaller ones littered about, one who had defensive and offensive injuries and bruises.

He almost lost another son tonight. He didn’t know Danny, didn’t even know he existed until a couple of hours ago. It still hurt. Still settled an ache in his heart – for him, Athanasia, Damian, and the other teenagers.

“Whoever did this…” Bruce began, anger seeping into his tone. “Who would vivisect a child?”

“I’m afraid, these days, that list is longer than any of us would like, Master Bruce,” Alfred said.

Bruce pushed back the cowl and rubbed his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb. “This is…” He had no words. With a sigh, he dropped his hand. “How bad is it, really?”

There weren’t many times Bruce could count on his hands where he saw Alfred look so devastated that he was near tears. To see it now, Bruce almost retracted his question.

“He had internal bleeding that I had to stop. Multiple broken ribs. Broken sternum.” Alfred hesitated. “Misplaced organs that I had to put back.”

Bruce shut his eyes, and backed up to fall into the chair behind him. He leaned back, hand over his eyes. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Anything else?”

“Master Bruce–”

“Anything else?” he repeated, firm.

Alfred sighed. “He has bruises and cuts on his wrists – signs of a struggle against cuffs of some sort. Burns from something I am unsure of. His right forearm is fractured; we will have to call Dr. Thompkins to get it properly taken care of. Until then I placed a splint on it. He has other injuries, but those are superficial and nothing to worry about. If he is anything like anyone else in this family, he will make a miraculously full recovery.”

Taking in the information, Bruce rubbed at his temple, then looked back at Danny. He was pale from blood loss, and from where Bruce sat he couldn’t see the splinted arm but he did earlier.

The heart monitor beeped slower than an average human. It set Bruce’s anxiety off, afraid that at any moment it will slow down to a complete stop.

“There is…another thing that has my concerns,” Alfred spoke as he began to clean the area.

“The Lichtenberg figures.”

“Yes.”

Bruce noticed them when he first began helping Alfred. It was hard not to see them. The ones on his back started at the base of his neck and went all the way down his spine. Most branched off into faint, small lines that followed the nervous system of the body, and quickly faded out; a few went up towards his hairline. But there was one figure that branched off, that stayed prominent like the one down his spine; it went across his shoulder blade and down his left arm, not stopping until it reached the palm.

“They are old, from what I can tell,” said Alfred. “A few or so years, perhaps.”

Bruce brows lowered. “Lichtenberg figures disappear after a few days.”

“Not these.”

Bruce sighed.

The Lichtenberg figures. The horror of what happened and who did it. The Lazarus green on both twins, and Danny’s bandages. The secrecy of the twins.

Bruce had so many questions. He needed answers.

“Might I suggest, Master Bruce, that you wait to interrogate the traumatized teenagers?”

He stilled from where he stood back up. “We need answers–”

“And we can get them once everyone is well rested,” said Alfred. “We have no idea how long any of them have been awake, or where they even came from. Ask questions now, and you will have five exhausted and frightened teenagers giving you the hardest time of your life.”

Bruce thought back to when they first got to the Batcave. Of the persistence and stubbornness, and blatant refusal to let the adults take over. He admired their loyalty and want to protect their friend, but he did not want a repeat of that tonight.

“You’re right,” he reluctantly admitted.

“I often am, Master Bruce.”

“Hey.” The curtain moved. Jason poked his head in. “It’s just me,” he announced. “Gave Duke a tray of sandwiches earlier to give the kids. They have water, too. Need me to do anything here?”

Alfred looked down at the bed Danny was on; Bruce did, too. The sheets and mattress were stained from the impromptu surgery.

“A little help cleaning up and moving Master Danny to a new bed will be much appreciated,” said Alfred.

Jason nodded, then backed out with a, “One clean medical cot. Got it.”

That left Bruce and Alfred to continue cleaning everything else. The former tossed away the old bandages, dirtied thread, and alcohol wipes; the latter picked up the medical equipment that had been used and placed them in a plastic tub to be washed and disinfected later. Jason quickly came back in rolling up a clean bed, and they carefully moved Danny from one to the other.

Silence fell as Bruce began to check that the IV was still secure after all of the moving.

“So,” Jason said, Alfred leaving to put everything away, stained bed included. “Danny, huh.”

Bruce hummed.

The quiet turned tense between them.

“Hell, old man, just go ahead and ask.”

With crossed arms, he looked at his second son. “You knew.”

“Not a question, but sure. Whatever.” Jason motioned to Danny. “I didn’t know about him. Hell, I didn’t even know about Damian until he came here.”

His eyes narrowed a little. “But you knew about Athanasia. You recognized her on the roof.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, carelessly. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

“For how long?”

Jason didn’t immediately answer. “I don’t know, B. I guess I was sixteen?” He crossed his arms, too. “She looked, maybe, a little younger than Damian is now.”

“So you met at the League.”

“Eh, sure… It would be more accurate to say she found me, and randomly appeared like the fucking Ghost Christmas Past or some shit.”

“And you never told me.”

“Jesus. No.”

“Why?”

“No more dead Robins. No more child soldiers. No more kids dealing with your shit,” said Jason. “Take your fucking pick.”

“They aren’t Robins, Jason, and they definitely are not child soldiers because of me,” Bruce snapped. “They are my children, all of you are, and I didn’t force any of you to do what we do. I wouldn’t have forced Athanasia to become a vigilante if she didn’t want to, if she came here with Damian!”

Underneath his domino mask, Bruce knew Jason was glaring at him. “Are you going to hound Damian like this? He didn’t tell you either!”

“Because he made a promise that he wouldn’t! You didn’t! Six years, son–”

“And she’s been visiting Gotham for two!” Jason yelled.

“What do you mean?”

“She already knew you’re her dad; don’t ask me how because I don’t know. But don’t you think she would have come to you if she wanted you to know?”

Bruce faltered for only a second.

It was long enough for a small projectile to hit him in his temple before he could form an actual response to his son. He flinched from the impact but caught it – a rock from somewhere in cave – and heard Jason begin to chuckle before he also got hit in the side of the head with another rock.

Having slipped into the curtained off area while they argued, stood Athanasia. A few more rocks were in one hand and Bruce had no doubt she would throw another one if she felt like she needed (or wanted) to.

Her expression was a guarded.

Jason glared at her. “What the hell–”

“The others want to speak with Batman. In case you forgot because of your aging mind, I didn’t tell them your identity, so I suggest you put the cowl back on before you walk out.” With that, she ducked out, not waiting for either of them to speak.

There was a beat of silence.

“Insulted by a new kid in under two hours,” said Jason. “That has to be a new record.”

“No,” Bruce denied gruffly, “it still goes to you for calling me a ‘big boob’ and hitting me with a tire iron when stealing my tires.”

“I wasn’t your kid then.”

“Hn.”

Jason exasperatedly sighed. “You’re impossible.” He walked out without another word.

Bruce put on the cowl, but didn’t leave until Alfred came back, wary to leave Danny alone. When Alfred assured him that he would alert them if needed, he left and made his way to Athanasia and the other teenagers.

He wasn’t surprised to see Damian already there. Either Athanasia got him or he forced Duke to help him; whatever the case, he and Duke now sat at the table with the others, while Jason stood off to the side against a nearby cave wall. His helmet was back on, and he watched the group with crossed arms.

He pulled up a spare chair and held laced it between Athanasia and Damian. He had barely sat down for longer than a second when the girl who introduced herself as Valerie Gray spoke up.

“We need to leave.”

“No.”

She reeled back, shocked. The others stared at him with either incredulity or anger. Tucker Foley froze with a half eaten sandwich hovering in front of his mouth, and Sam Manson looked ready to argue.

“Um, yes,” Valerie corrected. “You can’t keep us here, we aren’t prisoners. We brought Danny here for medical attention, and now that that’s done, Wes and I need to head back to Amity Park ASAP.”

“I can’t in good conscience let any of you to take another trip somewhere,” Bruce told them. “I’m not keeping you as prisoners. You need rest. All of you.”

“We can rest later,” Sam argued. “We don’t have time to just- just sit around and do nothing!”

“Resting isn’t doing nothing,” he said. “It’s making sure you don’t push your body and mind too much so you can work more later.”

“We don’t have time for later.”

“With all due respect, um, Batman, sir,” Tucker began nervously, “Sam and Valerie are right. We have a lot to do. This has already gone on for long enough.”

Underneath the cowl, an eyebrow raised. “And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

The group hesitated.

“There is a secret government organization tormenting a subspecies of humans and metas,” Athanasia explained. “The organization call themselves the Ghost Investigation Ward.”

“Ghosts,” Bruce repeated.

The teens nodded.

Duke ‘huh’ed, as if he was piecing things together in his own head.

“Ghosts?” questioned Jason incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “There are literally aliens on this world, a dude with a magical ring, an Amazonian woman, a gene in human DNA that gives some of us powers, heroes apparently die and come back to life on the regular, a bunch of other shit, and you’re seriously questioning ghosts right now?”

“What do you mean by ‘tormenting’?” Bruce asked before Jason could properly respond. “And why?”

“Ghosts, or anything paranormal, aren’t seen as good or friendly beings by them,” Tucker said. His eyes became downcast. “They aren’t even considered beings. Or sentient.”

“The GIW are ghost hunters,” Valerie explained. “And over the past few years, they have taken an interest in our town, Amity Park, because of the extreme amount of paranormal activity and ambient ectoplasm we have. Usually our local ghost vigilante takes care of them, and it’s never been that big of a deal, even though they have always wanted to catch Phantom and do Ancients know what. He’s always been able to stop them before anything got too serious.

“Honestly, we didn’t take them that seriously when we probably should have. We call them the Guys in White, because they’re like a lame, evil, paranormal-obsessed version of the Men in Black. Even though they did have bad intentions, they’ve never been successful. But last October…”

“They aren’t so lame anymore,” Wes muttered.

As Bruce quietly took in and filed away the information he just got, Damian gave them a somewhat judgmental look. “You underestimated them. That can very well lead to a deadly mistake,” he said. He glared at them under the domino mask. “It almost did.”

“We know,” Sam responded, sounding equally frustrated and solemn. “They are a government organization that got bested by a group of fourteen year olds when they first came along. What were we supposed to think? They have been getting better over the years, but so have we. We have always taken necessary precautions and we had plans for potential bad outcomes because Danny was insistent on that. But they stopped coming around for some time. We stupidly believed they’d given up on us. Then the Guys in White finally showed their faces again, and we weren’t as prepared as we should have been.”

“It’s why we need to get back to Amity Park,” Wes said. “They put us under martial law and we need to get in touch with another friend of ours.”

Bruce took in what they said. He still had a bunch of questions alongside new ones that he wanted answers to ASAP. Alfred was right, though; questioning them right now – let alone letting any of them leave to continue on their mission – wasn’t a good idea.

This was a group of eager, stubborn teenagers whose town and best friend were in danger. He understood their urgency to keep going, and he told them as such. “But it will do no good for anyone to run yourselves to the ground. I’m even willing to help and hear the full story of what happened, but not until each of you get some much needed rest. That’s final.”

“But–”

“Batman, you don’t understand–”

“Running on fumes will get you no where,” he spoke firmly and loudly. It was the same tone he used on his kids, both in and out of suits, when they were misbehaving or did something they shouldn’t have. “It might even lead to another almost deadly mistake. You all need to rest. You can either stay in a safe house, or I can get in touch with Athanasia’s father and see if you can go there if that’s what you want.”

“What if we want a hotel?” Sam asked with a glare that hard to tell if it was from anger at him or the migraine she had.

“I won’t let you,” he bluntly admitted. “A government organization is after Danny and you guys by proxy, for reasons I don’t know. It’s either a safe house, or Athanasia’s father’s home that I have personally created a security system for.”

No one responded. A short silence fell over them.

Bruce decided to stand up. “I will let you guys choose. I need to check on my partners out in the field.”

[cookiesupplier]

Catch You When You Fall - Part Six

pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo & ofc (Catherine)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, angst, murder, mystery, smut, mentions of speciesism, mentions of violence, trauma.

summary: A new soul has arrived in the Afterlife. While she appears to adjust just like anyone else might in the new environment of the world of life after death, despite the ordeal she experienced with her death. The question is has she really, and can Nicholas help her without crossing lines that he knows he shouldn't?

Authors Note: Unbeta'd as usual!

To find the others in the Hell AU Universe: Combined Hell-Verse Masterlist

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tags: @missduffsblog @tearfallpixie @spicywhenspeaking @sorrowsofsilence @wild-child-7747

@lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens @valiantroeagleangel @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses

@embracethereaper42 @emmmm127 @sunsshinesunny @dominuslunae @xxkittenkissesxx

@philomenie @dontdiganothergravetoday

“I mean, Catherine, my name is Catherine, but everyone calls me Cat.”

Catherine. Cat. Nicholas smiled a little as he spared her the slightest glance, only slight, not wanting to stare at the poor woman with the way her face seemed to be turning all kinds of shades of red right now. She could right well be giving Boris from his office a challenge almost, and his skin tone was actual variations of scarlet. A fact that the poor demon, got annoyed about when it became the brunt of many a joke come the mortal Valentine's Day. It didn’t help at all that he was practically the oldest demon in their department, not just in this lifetime, but every one of his lifetimes, a constant fixture. They all knew he was ancient, why he kept choosing the path to guide souls through the gates as he did, Nicholas didn’t know, especially when he was always so grouchy about it, but he did. Some just had a calling, he guessed.

Nicholas wondered if his place was his calling. Most would assume it was, he had ascended to the ranks of a demon lord after all. While he did find it fulfilling, there were moments he struggled, like he had with Ellie. If he hadn’t been there to help her, he wasn’t sure what would have happened to her, how her trauma would have been handled. On that same note, while he knew he had crossed the line and messed up, she could have been hurt even worse with what he had done. Ellie had disagreed with him since then, telling him he’d done the right thing, that she was thankful to have him as her friend. That he, Folio, Jolly, had made her coming here, enduring those that had hurt her, something she could withstand. Yes, she wished he’d been honest, but she was thankful for him every day. It didn’t mean he hadn’t fucked up, and he knew it. So, his calling or not, he wasn’t perfect, he had work to do. He was demon enough to admit that.

Just as he was demon enough to admit that the woman in front of him was an absolute vision. 

He’d heard about her already from Ishtar, the other day she’d mentioned her over lunch with everyone when talking about the interview she’d had. Asked him if he knew anything about the soul that had come through. Unfortunately, he’d had to tell her no, that she was one of the Bryce’s charges, and Bryce wasn’t one of the demons under his watch. What he hadn’t told her was that Bryce was not one of his preferred demons. If he was honest, while he was a hard worker, he was, a bit of a sycophant towards Lord Gavin. The demon lord that oversaw the set of offices that Cat’s file had been sent to when she had come through the gate. 

Most people wouldn’t believe how many souls came through the Afterlife on any given day. Most didn’t stay, most came and went, whether having to be transported to different parts of the afterlife for various reasons, whether by choice or otherwise, for example, punishment. Or they chose reincarnation quickly, that personally was something Nicholas didn’t agree with, for reasons. He personally believed they deserved time to settle, such as Ellie, and now Cat. So yes, there were multiple offices having to handle the multitudes of souls coming through the Afterlife, and Nicholas didn’t always handle the ones coming directly to Hell, they all processed varying degrees of souls. He was processing just as many of the punishment souls, some of them were truly horrifying, but some of them were also varying shades of grey.

Hell was full of people that someone might be surprised about being here. That were only going to punishment to have a gentle nudge about being a better person before they could reincarnate so they could have a second chance at life. While Jolly thought of his life and freedom in Hell as his second chance at life, for them, reincarnation was the second chance. Not everyone in punishment realms were serial killers and racist bigots. Sadly, in some cases, there were demons that lived here that were far more monstrous than some of the files that crossed his desk, waiting to be processed and sent to a punishment realm before on to reincarnation. Calling it punishment sometimes felt harsh, when all it was, was treatment, healing, therapy of a kind. Of course, then there were others. Honestly, Nicholas still wondered how the soul that was Tony, Ishtar’s former manager, had gotten out of punishment so ugly in his views. He’d love to get his hands on his file, but, he’d looked, it was not among his underlings.

Thinking about it, he wondered it if was among Gavin’s group. Gavin was a bastard of a purist. Demons belonging with demons. Oh, the day he had found out that Noah had bonded with a human soul, a Demon Lord, debasing himself, by tying his soul with a blood rite to that of a human soul. Nicholas almost wished he could have seen his face when he found out about it. He had known the moment he did, everyone present in the department floor had known, maybe everyone in the building that day had known. The yell he had let out. It had been shocking the lack of decorum that demon had. However, at least he’d had the decency to congratulate Noah the next time he’d seen him when he’d come by to see Nicholas a few days later. Nicholas would have been sure to have him written up if he didn’t. He might not outrank him, both of them Lords, but he could still sight him for that kind of behaviour against another department head. 

Cat, knowing she was among Bryce’s charges, and under Gavin’s watch, he doubted she’d be in Hell for very long. They had a high turn over. Reincarnation was their goal, to the point they would push their people towards it, whether it was healthy or not. Nicholas didn’t approve. He never pushed the people he worked with, he helped them and when they felt they were ready, and only then, did he mention reincarnation in any serious way. Trying to send them back before then could actually damage them mentally and hurt their chances for a better life, of that he was sure.

When he first worked in the office, as an intern, and Gavin his mentor, it was implied by Gavin there was a bonus for every human he got to reincarnate. That was long before Gavin was a demon lord any more than Nicholas was. Mind you, Nicholas became a demon lord long before Gavin did, much to his displeasure. It was many years later, he found out, the other demon just considered human souls to pollute Hell. That he considered it his duty to send them back to the living as quickly as possible to keep the demon world as clean as possible. Demons, like Gavin, disgusted Nicholas.

Nicholas hadn’t told Ishtar that he didn’t think the woman would be here for long, he didn’t want to risk her giving up on investing her time and energy in to helping her. If anyone could help her when Gavin was probably going to do his best to push her out, it would be Ishtar. He couldn’t do anything, he wished he could, but if he meddled, if he interfered in her case, it would be far worse than almost blowing up Ellie’s case. It was one thing being friends with Ishtar, and getting to know her, but after Ishtar had mentioned her to him, he had to be hands-off!

Just when she thought that her absolute humiliation couldn’t get any worse, he seemed to take pity on her. Nicholas, that was what Ellie had called him when she had called out, reached out for her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Cat, I’m Nicholas, so you’ve heard.”

His voice was so smooth, so gentle, oh damn, she took his hand, and sure enough, shaking it, his grip firm and making her fingers tingle in all the most amazing of ways. With all those tattoos, it made her wonder if he was a demon like Bryce, or a soul like Folio.. Folio had more than a few tattoos himself, and if he hadn’t spoken the way he had, she would wonder about him too. No, no, she was sure he was as much of a deceased soul as she was, and Ellie.

“Nicholas! We could really use some help. Cat, here, is looking to plant a lovely little garden, and I’m going to help her.”

Cat couldn’t help but duck her head a little as the warm flush of her face wouldn’t go away, but at least his attention had passed away from her and back to Ishtar now. She was incredibly thankful for her little announcement then, Cat breathed a sigh of relief, his gentle scrutiny as she watched her with his introduction was intense. 

“That sounds great, not sure where I can help with it though?”

Good question, for mister mysterious and handsome, if she didn’t say so out loud herself. If Cat was honest, she had no idea how he could help either. She had thought right up until the point that Ellie was calling Nicholas over, that they were doing perfectly on their own. Ishtar had insisted they didn’t even need any of the sales assistants to help them from the gardening department. That they only required the basics for now, and not all the fancy gadgets that would only confuse them in the beginning. Maybe later they would do different things in the garden, right now, all they wanted to do was plant the flowers, help them grow, keep them alive, simple. Hearing Ishtar talk so certainly, positively, caused Cat to be so hopeful that this could truly work. That she wasn’t going to accidentally kill these gorgeous flowers. While she had never had a garden before, there had been those doomed potted plants in her past, and she didn’t want to repeat those mistakes. 

“Well, Ishtar was just saying that we don’t know how the soil is going to be in Cat’s garden space, and as nice as the weather is here, Hell is Hell, so, we’re looking at-”

“Ellie-”

“For the-”

“Ellie-”

Cat couldn’t help but giggle a little at the almost exasperated tone that was coming from the man. He just seemed to know she was talking around the issue and going around the long way, possible, to tire him out so he’d just agree in the end. It made her wonder if that was how she got her way sometimes.

“Damn, woman, you send way too much time with Noah, get to the point.”

“We were thinking about buying a bag of fertiliser, and some soil mix just in case, and were wondering if you’d take if for us? Please?”

Ishtar was the one that asked then, politely, and Cat was quiet, playing with her fingers standing off to the side. The quiet and stay out of the way method, letting the friends handle conversing between each other as it were. They knew their dynamic, after all.

“Oh, so there it is, you don’t want to deal with the dirty, and the smelly stuff.”

“Come on, Nicholas, like you don’t cart around those boys all the time.”

Cat tried not to laugh again at Ellie being cheeky, but her effort to stay out of this was completely dashed when right at that moment Nicholas himself decided to pull her right back into the conversation.

“You really want to be friends with these two? Really?”

She could feel her face flushing with his attention back on her, even if it was for something as innocuous as asking a silly question like that. Cat couldn’t stop herself before she threw herself a cheeky one right back at him before she could really even think about it.

“Well, aren’t you?”

The bright smile she got back from him was worth the absolute shock at herself for daring to say it at all.

“Alright, I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

Cat had assumed he would be talking about her, to her surprise, it was Ellie he was gesturing toward when,

“But, what, it’s not my garden, technically it’s, well, both of theirs!”

She bit her lip when Nicholas just grinned,

“But you’re the one that asked.”

There was something about him as they added the bags to his cart and walked with him out of the store and the owners could ring them up. She found it interesting, they didn’t have to pay, but it worked like a store just the same, for inventory purposes she presumed, so they knew what they needed to get more of in the future. Either way, sure entire, soon they were on their way out, and she was watching Nicholas walk to his car. He was going to be following them to her apartment building.

He was following…

He was…

Why had she agreed to this?

Wait, had she agreed to this? No, no, she’d just let herself get swept along, and now she had a gorgeous man, possibly a demon, about to drive right to her apartment to deliver gardening supplies for her. What has she gotten herself into?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics