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timmydraker · 2 days ago

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On Tim’s nineteenth birthday he had a party with his friends and had chosen to celebrate it at a karaoke bar.

Kon, Cassie and Bart are there in civilian clothes and identities and so are Tim’s old school friends as well as come of his college’s kids, as well as Tam.

Everyone is having fun and while they have alcohol I drinks available, everyone is being mindful to not send it to hard due to Tim only just agreeing to drink before he’s legal.

Naturally, a few of them get competitive and Ives ends up becoming a judge for who wins in certain face offs.

It’s all fun and games until Kon points out that Tim had been spending most of the time taking photos of other people, though admittedly a fair amount are selfies, and insist on everyone watching Tim perform and filming it.

Tim, who’s used to having lots of eyes on him quickly goes from bashful to scheming and everyone gets the performance of their lives.

Tim wakes up with a mild hangover, (hes a good boy who made sure to drink water and eat a lot), and around a dozen missed calls from various family members. He feels out at first before he sees his latest text is from Stephanie saying ‘Handsome and rich and you can sing? Urg why did we break up again?’ She hadn’t been able to make it due to a break out but promised to make it up to him and she always did.

Attached is a link to a TikTok from an account he knows for a fact is one of his friends.

It’s him, standing on the stage with his big pink feather shall, black dress shirt open with glitter visible on his collar bones and a large jacket that defiantly isn’t his likely hanging over his arms. In the video Tim is swaying around happily, cheekily even, while singing ‘I Am A Good Girl’ by Christina Aguilera from Chicago and sauntering around as if he himself is playing her role.

Tim’s face isn’t all that flushed and part of him wishes that wasn’t the case if only because it shows he was sober enough to be fully aware of what he was doing, which is unfortunately true.

Tim is confident in his public appearance and knows how to handle any backlash, it’s the text from his family that are going to make him crawl into a hole and die.

Dick: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, why are you at a club?

Dick: there better not have been alcohol

Dick: also, unimportant and totally not the most important thing, WHY DIDNT YOU INVITE ME 😭

Damian: You look like a fool, Drake. Alfred has been muttering about Father being a bad influence and is threatening my to kick him out.

Damian: I cannot be sure, but I belive I heard Alfred say ‘your playboy ways better not be swaying that boy to be a nuance like you, young man’.

Damian: Fix this.

Stephanie: ‘why you in the club with people wildin’

Stephanie: get it

Stephanie: like the Meghan the Stallion song?

Jason: why the fuck are you at a club

Jason: don’t think I didn’t see that vodka raspberry in your hand

Jason: answer me you little shit

Jason: I swear to go if you were in crime ally I will loose it

Duke: dude Bruce has such a big worry frown I think I heard a muscle snap

Duke: you’re a really good singer though

Duke: good song choice for a rich brat lol

Duke: that was meaner than I meant for it be sorry!

Duke: still true tho

Cass: drink lots of water and I’ll bring you bat burger in the afternoon xx

Bruce: I’m not angry, you haven’t done anything wrong, but did you have to sing a song about being a rich girl when people complain about us being out of touch enough as it is?

Bruce: I’m not mad though.

Bruce: have you drunk water?

Bruce: also did I see Conner Kent there?

Bruce; why was he there.

Bruce: does he understand the dangers of drinking as a Kryptonian?

Bruce: again, I’m not mad at you, just concerned.

Bruce: I’m mean in a little mad but not because Alfred is yelling at me.

Bruce: you know the Brucie Wayne persona was a farce, I have no doubt about that, but that doesn’t mean you need one.

Bruce: not that you can’t have a good time!

Bruce: please answer Dick is yelling at me now too

Damian: Grayson is now yelling at Father.

Damian: He has called him a whore but I believe that had nothing to do with your provocative dancing. I think he just wants to call father a whore.

Jason: I found the bar.

Bart: heyheyheyheyheyhey! Barry said to warn you that Bruce is making everyone do a course on teaching your kids to be alcohol safe and that even the ones who aren’t parents have to do it too lollolololololol

Jason: I was going to get do something but the woman owning it kept talking about how nice you all were so I feel bad

Dick: I mean you didn’t have to invite me I know it’d be weird to have a 27 year old there but that’s not that old!

Alfred: I shall be around shortly with adequate food. Be ready.

Tim was in for it that was for sure, especially when he saw ‘Tim Drake’ and ‘Thristtrap’ trending.

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goldfishinaplasticbag · 2 days ago

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highway robbery

#tim drake #timothy drake #timbin #robin iii #dc #dc comics #dc fanart #dc robin #tim drake fanart #this is all replies in twtto someone who asked to hire tim to continue staring #funny

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damselneedssaving · 15 hours ago

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BATBOYS BUT THEY WITNESS A STRANGER PULL F!READER INTO A HUG AND CLAIM TO BE HER BOYFRIEND. FT. MARK GRAYSON! P.T.3

★ TAGS: older!damian wayne, older!duke thomas, everyone is 18+, mention of death, romance, mark is utterly devoted to you, jealousy, lots and lots of jealousy, little bit of dark!batboys, kind of dark!mark too

★ A/N: some intimate mark time this chapter, yay!! also, cough cough, let's not talk about that tiny break i took 😭

★ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 ★ | ★ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ★ | ★ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ★

YOU COME BACK TO DAMIAN'S SWORD AGAINST MARK'S THROAT—

—because of-fucking-course you do. You just can't catch a break for the life of you today.

"Damian—"

"This scum," spits the ex-assassin, cutting you off with the same sharp edge as the blade he wields, "had the nerve to claim we couldn't keep you safe."

Subtly, ever so subtly, Mark's jaw flexes. "I never said that."

"It doesn't need to be said to be implied." Damian narrows his gaze back at the meta, fingers readjusting themselves around the handle of his katana, twitching with an urge—to swing. To slice.

To kill.

You should've known. You should've known something like this would happen. That the brothers would be incapable of even so much as getting along with someone (a meta, no less) who claimed to be in any sort of relationship with you. Or, for fuck's sake, not holding some sort of weapon against his damn throat for something as little as a hug.

Maybe you expected a little too much. These are, after all, the same men who watched you through traffic cameras to ensure your safety when the Joker left hiding with a big bang. Literally.

You pinch your nose with a sigh, the start of a headache steadily clambering up your skull—

"Do you need some aspirin?"

—only to immediately cease its climb for a second.

Your eyes shoot open, quickly finding themselves on the unmasked viglante sat with a sword still to his throat, but his pupils trained onto you.

"How did you..?"

"You always get a headache after pinching your nose a few times," he answers, eyes crinkling a little in something soft and fond, "and I've always told you to stop pinching so hard 'cause of it."

You stare at him with parted lips and wide eyes, feeling that familiar heat crawl through you when he just continues to hold your gaze, smile a little too genuine to be directed at a stranger.

Though, at this point, you're pretty sure that's not what you are to him.

The rattling of pills snaps you out of your little daze, and you blink to find Mark with his hand gestured out to you, a box resting neatly on his palm.

Aspirin.

"I always keep some on me," he says with a smile. But then his gaze falls down, and that smile is no more. "Even if... you're not around to take them anymore."

Something sharp punctures your chest, like a knife to the heart, and you almost clutch it from the pain, from his expression, but before you can even think to offer some words of comfort, the sword against Mark's throat presses down harder.

"Damian," comes slipping out your mouth instead, stern and cross.

"He just tried to drug you in front of me," growls the swordsman, pressing down harder, the skin of Mark's throat hugging the sword's edge.

"It's just aspirin," you shoot back, narrowing your gaze at the demon heir. He narrows his right back.

"You don't know that."

Another pinch. Another ache. And the next thing you know, you're snatching the pill box right out of Mark's hand, Damian's eyes widening and stance faltering long enough for the meta to wrap his hand around the edge of the blade and squeeze.

Metal shards fall to your floor with a clang.

"You—!" Damian seethes, gripping the remainder of his shattered sword with teeth gritted hard enough to break boulders. "How fucking dare you."

Mark's face scrunches, a little bit in disbelief, a little in judgement. "You're the one that pointed a sword at me, man."

"What are you anyway?" comes a new voice, gruff and tough and seeping the same judgement that's in Mark's expression but a hundred times over. "Bullet proof, flight, super strength... you a Kent or somethin'?"

Damian clicks his tongue. "That idiot would tell me if his father were to adopt another of his kind."

Mark scrunches his face. "What's a Kent?" Then he shakes his head, steeling himself before answering, plain and simple, "I'm a Viltrumite."

You raise a brow, exchanging a glance with Duke and Dick, the two of them silent, but very much just as bewildered as you.

"A Viltrumite...?" you echo in a whisper.

"Why does that sound so familiar?" Duke finishes your thought.

"You're thinking of Kryptonite," comes yet another new voice—one that just entered the room; one that locks eyes with you, longing and pleading, before breaking away as if torn to, "as in: Kryptonian."

Tim's gaze falls on Mark, and he continues with a question, "Did you mean you're a Kryptonian?"

Mark's brows knit. "Uh, no. What's a Kryptonian?"

"Our world's version of your kind, I'm guessing," you answer, lips pulled thin. Then a thought occurs, and you're quickly fumbling with the pills in your grip. "Uh—here. Thanks."

You place them back in his hands, fingers brushing against his own for a split second.

But a split second enough.

With a blink and tingles exploding in your fingertips, you're suddenly surrounded by blue. Blue and white and a vast expanse of nothing else. Not even the ground.

You blink, swaying gently, when a pair of hands settle on your hips.

"Careful," a voice whispers, the same voice that showed up at your door just hours ago, "you don't wanna fall."

Your head tilts, and a smile tugs at your lips, the next words tumbling out without you even having to think, "But you'd catch me if I did."

It's said with such certainty, such natural cadence, that you can't help but believe it yourself.

Then Mark smiles—soft and fond and filled with so much love—and your heart begins to bleed that belief.

"Yeah," he starts—quiet, intimate, "I would."

Your breath hitches, his nose moving to press against your own while the hands resting on your hips wind around your waist, pulling your back into the warmth of his chest as if he needs you to breathe.

And with the way he looks at you, you'd believe it.

Those crinkled eyes, that soft smile, the swirling brown that floods you with so much warmth, you'd need a fire to cool down.

He looks at you like you've strung up all the stars in the night sky just for him.

Then he tilts his head, and he leans in, and his lips press against yours.

...And you blink back to reality.

Your head whips around, lips parted and tongue so far from wet, it's practically a desert.

No one seems to be particularly concerned, all still glaring at Mark like he murdered stray kittens right in front of their eyes without so much as a blink.

"So let's just say that you are from another world," Tim starts like you didn't just see a whole ass vision right in front of your eyes, and you blink back your disbelief, "and in your world, Viltrumites are Kryptonians...

"Where the hell is this world's version of you?"

You blink again, looking around one more time and locking eyes with Duke, who raises a brow and flashes you a look that practically screams 'we'll talk about this later'.

So you put it to rest for now.

"How the hell would I know?" Mark questions, raising a brow in that same disbelief and judgement he gave Damian.

"You knew where [Name] was," Jason accuses.

"That's different."

"Oh yeah? How? 'Cause she's your little girlfriend?"

Mark's jaw ticks, but before he can even think to lunge, a chime interrupts him.

Multiple chimes.

The boys all raise a brow, each reaching for their phone and taking only a second to check it before their eyes are widening and their muscles go as taut as a tightrope.

"The Joker," Dick whispers.

"Of all times," Damian growls.

And the room bathes in a tense silence for one... two... three seconds before Duke breaks it.

"We have to go."

"No," replies Damian, firm and sound and more final than a runner passing the finish line of a race in first place.

But before anyone can say anything, can rebuke his claim or, dare you say, agree with it, you speak up, "And why the hell not?"

The demon head turns to you, gaze narrow and lips pulled down into a stern frown.

"We are not leaving you alone with him."

"You have a city to save." You cross your arms, jutting out a hip. "You don't have a choice."

He crosses his arms right back at you. "I don't think you understand, Beloved. I refuse to let him hurt you."

"And don't you think he would've already if he wanted to?" you retort, before letting your gaze soften a bit, "I have a feeling he's telling the truth."

In return, his own gaze hardens. "I'm not risking your safety on a feeling."

It's dumb, and you know he doesn't mean anything hurtful by it, but you still can't help the way your voice falters. "You don't trust me?"

Instantly, he uncrosses his arms, instead holding them out towards you as his expression all but softens into knitted brows and all soft edges. "Of course I do," he whispers. "You know I do, Habibti. It's him I don't trust."

Damian's gaze flickers over to Mark for a brief second, narrowed and pointed and filled with nothing but suspicion, before returning to you, all the aforementioned feelings like a ghost in his eyes.

You take a moment to steel yourself, breathing in with closed eyes and out with open ones as you say, "I'm not asking you to trust him. I'm asking you to trust me."

His jaw ticks, gaze far-off, and you move to press both hands against his chest to reel him back in.

"Go, Damian. I'll be fine. I promise."

He stares into your eyes, guarded, but still swirling, still loving, still listening.

And listen he does, for not a moment later, he relents with a sigh. "Fine, but I will come back as soon as I take down that scum of the Earth. And I expect you to alert me should anything go wrong."

With another dirty look sent to Mark by Damian, you smile. "I'll lead you guys out."

The loud slam of your door follows your words, and you flinch, looking around to find all the boys but Jason there and looking back at you.

Dick shakes his head. "Always such a temper."

Your lips pull down, but you force yourself to shake it off, walking over to your door to open it once more for the rest of your house guests.

"I'll see ya later, Trouble." Dick winks, heading out first.

Tim follows, not saying anything so he can, instead, hit you with that longing glance that can't seem to pull away until he's craning his neck awkwardly enough to have to face forward again.

Then Damian takes it upon himself to go next, giving you a swift goodbye as he continues to murmur what you can only assume are curses under his breath in Arabic.

And finally, there's Duke, who takes just one step out the door before swiftly turning around, grabbing your arm, and gently tugging you towards him.

"What was that earlier?"

You blink. "What was what?"

He narrows his gaze, lips pulling into a thin line. "The looking around aimlessly." Then his eyes turn sharp; sharp enough to cut a diamond. "Did he drug you?"

His fist clenches as he says that, the lights flickering enough to have you using your hand to grip his free arm lightly.

"No, no." You shake your head. "It's not that. I'll tell you later, I promise."

He shoots you a look, one of those ones that tell you he expects you to follow up on that offer, before nodding his head once, spearing Mark with one last narrow look, and turning back around to continue down the hall.

And just like that, all your invited house guests are gone, having never once watched even a second of the promised movie they had come over for in the first place.

You shake your head, clicking your door shut with a sigh before turning around, a smile—shaking and nervous—nestled onto your face.

"Well then. That was quite the show, huh?"

TAGLIST: @silas-222, @bloofairyfox, @wiseavenuelove, @inkycapps, @velovicy, @mmentallyelsewhere, @verysynical, @1abi, @bluepartywobblernickel, @krys0210, @patatasolitaria, @mazixxss, @nova916, @federalprison78-4, @crissy09yesso, @minhyrin, @nutella-hitler, @kvzutora, @starslightzz, @alishii, @crybabyghostie, @jsprien213, @cupid73, @doggyteam2028, @invinciblewaffles, @love-theangel, @butterbiscuit444, @thecrazyone2007, @reaperxdeath, @gaychaosgremlin, @pookiei-bookie, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @eugenekori, @khaos141, @saltedcoffeescotch, @thatoneraeder, @pix-stuff, @lingxio, @mxvoid26, @winterhi09, @pengmar, @natsukicookies, @bronermalls, @marinefreaakk, @starmee-lodurrson, @bbsaeko, @vellichor01, @frothymilkdrink, @brooklynbbxo, @sleepygirl-inc

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frownyalfred · 20 hours ago

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do I….do I even have to say anything at this point?

#superbat #batman #bruce wayne #dc #clark kent #batfamily #david corenswet #superman movie

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lillilybells · 1 day ago

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Ruined plushes✧₊⁺

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing|batfam x batsis!reader (featuring; Wally West)

summary|someone left your room door open and Damian’s cat ruined one your favorite plushies.

word count|1522

warnings|wally west x reader.

notes|this is my first fic literally ever!! Please keep that in mind.

“Oh no…” Cassandra whispered as the gray cat leapt onto the couch beside her. She had taken just a moment to rest and maybe watch a show — but no. The universe (or more specifically, Alfred the cat) had other plans. He curled up with the mangled remains of a battered plushie clutched in his claws, white stuffing clinging to his fur.

It might’ve been an adorable sight under different circumstances. But not for Cass. Not when she recognized the destroyed plush: the fluffy white bunny dressed in a Kid Flash costume — part of her sister’s cherished collection, each holding deep sentimental meaning.

She quickly scooped up the fluffy remains and rushed downstairs, skidding into the kitchen where the smell of cheese invaded her senses and the sound of soft popping echoed.

“Hey, Cass,” Dick called, glancing up. “Wanna join us in the theater room? We’re watching… well, I don’t know yet.”

He returned his attention to the snack he was making, totally unaware of the incoming emotional hurricane. He was visiting Gotham for a few days — and naturally, everyone (mainly you) had insisted he stay at the manor. And when Dick was around, Jason’s “coincidental” visits became more frequent. So with all five brothers under one roof, a movie night with excessive gore was practically a tradition.

“Uh… Dick…” Cass said.

He turned, raising an eyebrow — only for his eyes to land on the pile of ruined fabric in her outstretched hands. He choked mid-chew.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, walking over to gently take the bunny corpse from her.

“‘Alfred the cat’ happened,” she replied flatly.

Dick sighed, holding the sad remnants of cotton, red, and yellow fabric.

“And who left the door open?” he muttered — just as heavy footsteps echoed.

“What door?” came Jason’s voice as he popped a grape into his mouth, appearing behind Cass. Both siblings snapped their heads toward him.

Dick didn’t answer. Instead, he tossed the plush remains onto the counter in front of Jason, who frowned.

“Shit—Billy? That’s the first one Wally ever gave her.”

Tim entered, took one look at the counter, and let out a horrified, “Jesus!”

Duke followed, frowning at everyone’s frozen expressions. “Oh…”

And then Damian appeared, arms already crossed. “Which absolute moron left sister’s door open?”

The chaos ignited instantly.

“You’re the one always snooping around her room!” Tim snapped.

Damian scowled. “I would never make such a trivial mistake. It was clearly Richard or Todd — they’re the temporary residents.”

Jason threw his hands up. “I’ve been here for like, an hour.”

“And I barely even remember which room is hers!” Dick lied with a completely unconvincing expression. Damian squinted.

“Don’t even look at me,” Cass said firmly.

They all obeyed, promptly turning to Duke.

“Seriously? It’s not me! I always close the door,” he insisted, but his panic didn’t exactly help his case.

“Well, someone’s gotta take the fall,” Tim muttered, inching away.

“Which would be you — you’re her favorite,” Dick said, arms crossed.

Tim opened his mouth to object, but Damian beat him to it.

“That’s debatable,” he muttered, arms folded tighter.

“Yes, Spawn. You should take the blame,” Jason jumped in quickly.

“He’s right — it’s your cat,” Tim added. Damian looked ready to commit a felony.

“Don’t you dare bring Alfred into this! He’s the least responsible for this treachery!”

“Okay, okay — let’s not repeat the dinosaur incident,” Dick cut in with wide eyes. Everyone flinched a little at the memory.

Tim suddenly turned on him. “Wait — she’s known you forever. You’re clearly the favorite!”

“Excuse me?! She’s known Jason for pretty long as well, and she practically explodes when he visits!”

“How would you even know that—?”

“Nope! Not blaming me! I’ve already died once—”

A collective groan filled the room before Jason could finish that sentence.

“What about Cass?” Tim suggested. “Sisters don’t stay mad at each other for more than like- a day.”

“First, that’s not true. Second, no.” Cass said firmly.

They all sighed. No convincing her.

Then — footsteps. Alfred entered the kitchen, eyes locking onto the ruined bunny. He approached, gaze unreadable.

“And who is at fault for this?” he asked calmly.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. No one’s stepped up yet,” Dick replied.

“can’t you stitch it up, Alfred?” Jason suggested almost naively, wanting the situation to wrap up.

“I’m a butler, child- not a magician.” with that he picked up the bunny with delicate fingers, studied it with a faint look of mourning, and muttered, “Even my grandmother couldn’t fix this. Good luck.”

He dropped it back on the marble and turned to leave, the click of his shoes echoing ominously.

The silence lingered for a beat too long.

“Was that weird to anyone else?” Tim asked. “It was, right?”

“Pennyworth abandoning us in our time of need? Disturbing,” Damian agreed with a grim nod.

“Guys, focus,” Dick said. “Who does (Name) let get away with the most bullshit?”

All heads turned to Duke.

His eyes widened. “No. Nope. Not happening.”

“At least break the news to her—”

The doorbell rang.

Everyone froze.

“Duke, we don’t have time!” “Be a team player!” “Take one for the team!”

“NO—!”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

They gathered in the main hallway, Duke at the back, clutching the ruined plush behind his back like it might explode.

“Oh—hey guys. This is so sweet, you’re all here,” you said, smiling at the full sibling lineup, all offering awkward waves and forced grins.

You brushed it off and tugged Wally inside. “Hey guys…” he said, smiling uncertainly at their unnerving silence.

“I don’t know what’s worse — that you’re dating my sister or that you wear your costume on dates,” Damian muttered.

“We don’t know that’s the worst part,” Jason started before getting smacked.

“We ran into a robbery,” you explained. “Wally stepped in, and I told him he could clean up and stay over. Since everyone’s here, we thought—slumber party!”

They exchanged tense glances. No one smiled.

“Okay—what’s going on?” you asked, suspicious now, hands on hips and head tilted.

“Is it because of Wally?” You asked. “Because he can leave-”

“Hey!” The ginger protested snapped.

“No, it’s not because of Wally,” Dick said gravely with a sigh. He walked up to you like he was delivering the news of someone dying, placing both hands on your shoulders. “Duke has something to tell you.”

Duke was shoved forward. With a dramatic inhale, he slowly revealed the bunny.

Silence.

You stared. And then… your lip wobbled, and eyes glossed over.

“Baby—don’t cry,” Wally was the first to speak up, hugging you gently.

The room burst into chaos.

“I’m so sorry—” “It was an accident!” “I told them to close the door—”

you on the other hand could only be described by one word- hysterical.

“Why would— do this—i always tell— keep the door close— Billy— the first you ever— our first date—” none of them could fully make out what you were saying through the sniffles and the sobs but they definitely understood, understood very well.

Wally looked like he was going to cry too. “It’s okay babe- I’ll find another one! I’ll get you thirty—I mean.. I think they’re discontinued.. — I’ll steal one from a toddler if I have to!”

“you don’t get it Wally! This- this holds so much sentimental value you don’t understand- it reminds of you when you’re gone- when I’m worried about you-” you ranted, your tone getting more agitated and angry even through the weeps.

“It’s true,” Tim muttered, “She hugs it while ugly crying whenever she misses you…”

They eventually moved to the living room, where you continued to rant. Jason tried a joke about how no one cried like this when he died. A pillow hit his face before the words were fully out.

Bruce wandered up from the Batcave, bleary-eyed, ready for bed — only to find his kids in the middle of emotional carnage.

“What the hell is going on…”

He was quickly caught up. You ended up curled beside him, ranting while he patted your hair and validated every single complaint.

“They never listen, Dad! And now Billy is gone! The symbol of a huge milestone — gone! It’s blasphemy! And they just sit on their asses-”

“Language.”

“Butts, while denying any accountability! It’s rude.”

“They’re being mean to you?” Bruce asked, voice soft and rumbly.

You nodded in his chest.

“You can’t be mad at them forever, sweetheart. People make mistakes. And Billy… Billy will be remembered.”

“yea babe- what he said, i promise ill get you a thousand more! you won’t even remember what happened to Billy..” Wally added his own two cents.

You sniffled. He reached for your thigh comfortingly — only to flinch under a Batglare and retract his hand.

“Okay!” Dick stood with a clap. “How about we go watch Sinners, and let Billy… rest in peace.”

Grumbling agreements followed.

The night ended in bickering, snacks, laughter, and sleepily leaning on each other — with a pile of yellow fluff forgotten in the corner.

And Alfred, standing in the shadows, watching with a faint smile.

He was the one who left the door open.

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