#Tim thinks this is it and he’s done for

[nightingale-prompts]

The next dinner at the Nightingales was a more lavish event. One Bruce knew he would have trouble navigating.

The Nightingales were not like Gothamite upper class. They were proper—austere even but not snobish. They weren't new money but they were old money either. Not to mention, they were crazy.

They stepped living food.

They ate that.

The food screamed.

Food does not scream.

Bruce still found no evidence behind that.

So they had to go back.

This time the Nightingales had a dinner party and Damian was invited first. Tim also received an invitation along with the rest of the family.

Bruce decided that he needed Cass and Dick to monitor the situation. Duke and Barbara were on standby. And Jason? Well he was even on the radar right now since he was off on some mission.

The family drove up thr long winding path to the Nightingale estate during the late evening (the only time they Nightingales held events). The fist thing to greet them was none other then Daniel walking the family cemetery with a lantern in hand and shovel in the other.

He saw them in the car and waved excitedly.

"What are you doing?" Tim called from the car window.

"Oh. Someone got out!" He yelled back before going back to shoveling dirt with no further explanation.

Yep, this place was cursed.

"So we are going to be touring the haunted mansion?" Dick said the break up the tension as the parked.

"I'll check the car battery in case we get stranded." Tim joked back.

Truthfully, Tim wasn't afraid and neither was Damian. Cass wasn't either, she felt like this place was welcoming and comforting.

"Damian don't look now but it's your girlfriend." Tim teased as a certain girl burst though the front door.

"Drake, I swear—" Damian started to threaten but was cut off as a pair of arms wrapped around his neck.

"Dami!" Elle yelled enthusiastically "Your back! Earnesto missed you and so did Sally."

Sally was Elle's Tasmanian devil and yes that's a bad as it sounds.

Elle dragged Damian inside as Jazz appeared at the door to greet everyone.

"It's good to see you again at our humble home. I see some new faces as well. I am Jasmine Nightingale, the matriarch of this family. Currently everyone is just mingling before dinner. Why not enjoy some tea and talk with the other guests before we begin." She said graciously as she lead the group inside.

The foyer had a few recognizable faces. Harley, Ivy, and Harvey being just a few of the rogues gallery invited. Constantine and Zatanna were also present. Most of the other guests weren't familiar. It seemed as though the Nightingales connections were deeper then privately thought.

What was most shocking was a very familiar face.

There he was chatting away with some guy. It was Jason!

Then Jason caught Bruce's gaze he immediately pretended that he hadn't seen him as he lead his partner off into another room. Said partner was no doubt a Nightingale.

"Did we just catch Jason with his secret second family?" Dick asked as he picked up a cup of tea that was being served.

Bruce took the cup and poured it into a dead plant.

"I'm almost shocked." Tim said.

Danny finally returned covered in mud as he dragged his shovel behind him. A storm had just picked up.

"This would be the perfect time for a who-done-it murder mystery novel to start." Cass signed.

Tim had dissappeared already. Either to spy on Jason or to follow Danny. Leaving Bruce with just the Dick and Cass.

Nope, Cass is gone. Already getting to know the strange foreign guests.

Dick was standing next to Jazz. A very amicable conversation.

"I think we are very alike Mr.Grayson." Jazz hummed in delight.

"Please, call me Richard. For someone so close in age to call me by my last name, it makes me feel old." Dick responded taking her hand flirtatiously

"Oh? I thought you had a old soul. I can see why The Lady favors you so much."

"Who?"

"Nevermind, are you familiar with Miss Ivy? We are working on a project in the greenhouse. I'm quite the fan of botany these days. Why not join me to check on the plants." Jazz said pulling Dick along.

Jazz was surprisingly strong as any pull against her didn't make her move like pulling a well rooted statue.

The conservatory was quite a sight. A few guests were wondering though as it leads to the trophy room and ballroom.

Dick found were Tim went. He was stuck between Danny and another Nightingale family member. You could easily tell guests from those in this family. Nightingales dressing in Victorian Gothic clothing and a white lock of hair that is styled independently from the rest of their hair.

"Go easy on him Sam. He is on the level." Danny said putting a hand on the girl's shoulder.

Sam huffed and pulled her white lock of hair behind her ear. Her eye had an ankh around it.

"But he is a Wayne." She said simply "I don't know why Jazz wants civilians here."

"This is our way Sam. What anyone out there doesn't concern us. That's what we agreed to when we took our names." Danny whispered under his breath.

The girl relented and sighed.

"You right. Old habits, you know. Sorry, Tim. Let me show you some of the plants we grow here. I've been working of a strain of carnivorous plants that can eat it's way through plastic and metal." She said.

Tim took notes of that entire interaction as he was taken for a tour.

"Hey Danny? You said you were burying something outside earlier." Tim asked.

"That? Well sometimes they get restless and try to come out. Constantine comes over when that happens. Apparently the land the manor was built on is SUPER cursed." Danny laughed.

"I know amazing right? It's why we picked it." Sam laughed along.

"Well I liked the view too." Jazz interjected.

Tim and Dick shared a confused and alarmed look.

Elsewhere in the manor another conversation was happening in the den.

"So you didn't tell your family." Dan said with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't want to hear that from you of all people. How come you didn't tell me they were coming?" Jason exasperated.

"I haven't even been in town until yesterday. Just tell them that you'd rather be in our family then theirs" Dan grumbled.

"And tell them that's where I've been going to for family dinner? I'd break Alfred's heart." Jason countered as he went to the bar and poured a Bloody Mary.

"Well break it for all I care." Dan grunted as he stole the drink and downed it.

"You are a asshole, Dan." Jason gritted his teeth and made another drink which Dan stole again.

"Right back at you. I'm letting you drink yourself stupid to get out of this. We suffer together. Also get me a bottle of the red stuff from the lower shelf." Dan said.

"You do love suffering." Jason rolled his eyes.

The unlabeled grotesque bottle was no doubt blood or something but Jason was too used to it to care. It was also the only thing that got Dan drunk and Jason didn't mind the taste either.

"It's my drug. Better then catnip." Dan laughed.

Upstairs Damian was having the best time of all his family members.

Dani was setting up her own version of the French Revolution in the playroom. Damian was the executioner and Dani was Maximilien Robespierre.

"Terror is nothing other than justice, prompt, severe, inflexible." Dani quoted "Hébert you are an imbecile and fool. But worst you are a hypocrite. Now off with his head."

"You know he didn't say that right?" Damian interjected.

"Historical revision. I don't want to go ask him right now. Now chop his head off." Dani deflected.

Not to ruin a fin game Damian let go and another doll was decapitated.

"Great job! But we have to take a break to feed Sally. Today is her favorite. Raw chicken and beef cuts."

The house was quite noisy now. But just outside someone had snuck out.

In the rain Bruce looked at a row of graves. Each etched with a name of a Nightingale family member that supposedly walked about the manor now.

The Nightingale Family-DC x DP prompt

(Shameless Addams family inspired prompt)

News travels fast in Gotham, especially in affluent circles. A new family has arrived in the city, old money at that. They had taken up residents in the old mansion overlooking the Historic Gotham Graveyard.

The Nightingales had a way of letting their presence be known. They were rarely seen in public. The eldest Jasmine Nightingale however had made waves working at the Gotham Asylum as a psychologist. She was often escorted by her younger brother Dan Nightingale. The public really started talking when Jazz was seen talking with Harley Quinn.

There were two children that lived in the Nightingale manor. They were elusive to say the least as the family didn't attend the parties of Gotham.

It wasn't until Damian Wayne got an invite from his classmate Danielle to visit their manor that someone saw the lives of Nightingales. This invite had been received after Damian carefully befriended the youngest Nightingale to investigate their connections.

That's how the Waynes ended up at a dinner party.

The manor was bleak to say the least and that's saying something in Gotham. The buildingbwas made from black stones and gargoyles perched on the roof. The garden was wilted and full of thrones that crept up the walls.

Bruce felt a sense of Deja vu as he approached the door and rang the bell. Tower bells rang out as the face of Jasmine Nightingale appeared. She was dressed in black dress pants and blazer. Her lips were painted to match. Her red hair had a striking white streak through it which had become a fashion trend since the family's arrival to girls wanting to seem mysterious.

"Good Evening. It is so nice to meet the infamous Waynes." She shook Bruce's hand. Behind her, the sounds of clanking metal was heard. "That is just my younger siblings playing. You don't you boys join while I talk to your father.

Despite only being a fresh-faced 20 year old Jazz carried herself like a confident adult. A certified genius in psychology who graduated early she also handled the inmates at the Asylum well enough that escapes are at an all time low.

"She's got it all" was what Harley said.

Bruce's admiration of the young lady was only matched by his suspicion. The house the Nightingales lived y had once belonged to the Al Ghouls. There was no telling yet if there was a connection.

He took a seat in the living room with Jazz tea already prepared. She poured two cups of black tea. Not black as in the type of tea but the color of the drink. Bruce cautiously sniffed the black liquid, it smelled earthy and acidic. Poison.

"Do you like it? I made it myself. I added the belladonna myself. It has a sweet taste so you don't need sugar. The kids have sweet tooths but we avoid added sugars. They love nightshade." She smiled drinking.

Bruce put the cup down. So they drink poison at a young age. They must be part of The League of Assassins. But why are they here?

"If you don't mind me asking. Why did you move to Gotham? Your parents-" Jazz put a hand up as she finished her cup.

"Mr. Wayne I'm sure you are no stranger to parents leaving before their time nor the concept that not all parents deserve children. Now I can't confirm or deny if that is the case for use but you can understand that it's a private matter." Jazz said sternly.

That wasn't an answer.

Upstairs Danny and Danielle played with Elle's new toys. Swords from Dan's trip to Portugal. He even sharpened them. They were currently tearing through the mansion.

Tim and Damian caught them while Danny had successfully pinned Elle to the ground.

"Dami! Help!" Elle yelled catching Danny off guard as Damian tackled Danny to the ground.

"Alright, alright. You can go next." Danny rolling Damian off him and passing him the sword. "Im taking a break."

Danny loved playing with his little sister but baby games are tiring.

"They let you play with swords," Tim exclaimed. This wasn't something he expected, sure it was normal for Damian but Damian is weird and was raised by assassins. Damian didn't do it for fun, it was training.

Damian and Danielle ran off while fencing.

"You must be one of the Waynes. Elle has been excited to have your brother over." Danny said politely if not a bit dismissive.

"Eh, yeah. Your sister said we should join you." Tim said a bit awkward. " You have another brother right?"

"Oh, yeah. He travels alot but he's relaxing right now. He's probably swimming." Danny shrugged.

Tim had heard of Danny. They went to the same school but Danny was part of a program that allowed him to come to school when he felt like it. The program is for young engineers who want to work for Wayne Industries. He mostly worked on small experimental projects. So far Danny's superconductor tech was revolutionary but impossible to replicate. Danny somehow managed to make a more effective coolant than anything they had created in the lab.

"You have a pool?" Tim knew that the mansion didn't have a pool.

"Of water? No." Danny shrugged but gave no further answer.

"I see, so what do you do?" Tim tried to sound normal like he was talking to his friends and not someone he was trying to probe.

"Anything, everything. I was going to recalibrate my telescope but I have a laser to test." Danny walked off expecting Tim to follow.

Testing was just cut a bunch of things in half. Tim got some great info on making an explosive ice canister and foam bombs. Tim made sure to get his number to hire him to make some gear for him.

The Nightingale kids were absolutely lawless. They destroyed everything in their path.

Elle had dragged Damian to her room to show off her toys. She used to travel with Dan until she started school. She picked up a bunch of items. Cult artifacts, shrunken heads, voodoo dolls, cursed puppets, knives, swords, and the homemade taxidermy Elle made from roadkill. She also had a pet dodo bird named Ernesto who had a bed next to her bed. Ernesto took a liking to Damian and sat on his head. The way he shows his affection

Soon enough Dan came upstairs to check on Elle and Danny.

"You kids, need to get ready for dinner. Sharpen your nails and teeth." He said before going back to the kitchen.

"What does that mean?" Damian asked.

"You don't sharpen your nails. Well good luck at dinner." Elle said bemused.

Dinner was...horrifying. Watching the family chat happily as they ripped apart the moving food as it came to life. Damian was actually excited as he skewered the cheese and broccoli casserole that screamed at him.

"Father, why can't we do this at our home?" He asked.

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 04. For love is all the reasoning we need

PREV PART trigger warnings: narrator is mean to Name, internalised ableism, talks about cults, anger, cringy first date start, medical + emotional + physical neglect main m.list      series m.list

Damian never understood you, and he never will. It’s something he had chosen to accept the day you ran away. Unlike his father he isn’t foolish, he isn’t a stranger to your passive face. He is no stranger to the kind eyes you used to look at him, and he’s no stranger to them turning into disappointment.

He had made his own bed, and he has lied in it. It’s why he doesn’t bother John when he rambles about Conner finally going on a date. It is why he doesn’t push John when he suddenly stops talking and looks around nervously. For he knows, Conner has always had eyes on you.

Damian loves you, but he can’t love you in the way you need. So he’ll stand back, he’ll keep you from being found. But Jason is tracking you down quicker than you can blink, he needs to get a message out.

So he opens Tim’s phone, truly for their second tech savvy team member you would have hoped he had a better password. A password that didn’t take him 10 seconds to guess, but then again, often the most intelligent of us make the most foolish mistakes. For those consumed with fear and greed never make the right choices.

It’s why Damian could still never be like you. You, who could have been the perfect vigilante had you not been so weak. So as your blood brother, he will be the one keeping you safe.

He just needs to copy down Conner’s phone number and send the text. But can he? Does he have a right to intervene with your life when you’ve made it clear that this family is not something you want? But do you truly not want them? Are you just protecting yourself? Are you worried that their attention will be even more painful than their rejection?

To an extent Damian can understand you, so he’ll text you. For it is time to not think of his own greed and thoughts. It’s time to think of yours as Jason basically hunts you down. For it’s you who will have to live with the consequences, not him.

When Conner got a cryptic text he immediately know from who it was. The language is consistence with your youngest brother. Damian Wayne, your only blood related sibling. And the only one he knows you would give another chance.

For you resent Tim the most, as a fellow child of neglect you had expected him to speak up more. Yet it was his best friend who defended you, who included you. While you are no longer angry at Tim, that hurt will never disappear. Even when you understand that his actions were motivated for the fear of abandonment.

But Damian, the child of the Cult. The child who only knew Jason, the child who is now telling Conner to watch out for the same man he sees as a brother long before he acknowledged Dick as family.

So here he is waiting for you as he stares at Damian’s text, he’s so deep in thoughts he doesn’t see you as you wave at him. He’s with his heads in the clouds and he crashes down the moment you tap him on his shoulder. Not because he’s disappointed to see you, no never. Not when you look like Aphrodite blessed her yourself, not when you look at him with your kind and hopeful eyes.

“You scared me,” Conner says, his breath almost caught in his throat as the sun makes you shine ever brighter. Gods, it’s as if you are glowing. If he didn’t know better he would call you a mutant for how his heart stops every time he sees you smile.

You chuckle, and Conner swears that it sounds like bells. He swears that he can he feel your warmth, even when he knows it’s from the sun.

“I can see that,” you tease him with a laugh as you ruffle his hair. The hair he took a great deal to tidy up, something that looks unnatural. “way better, now you actually look like yourself.”

With that you stepped inside of the dinner and Conner had to hold his breath. He knew he had done his hair in a new way, but he wouldn’t have dreamt of you noticing. And most of all that you noticed he felt uncomfortable.

Gods, you are getting better with every minute, aren’t you?

…. You aren’t, truly you’ve always been like this. Even with all the misfortune in your life you would never ask someone to change, even if it would be in your favour. Doesn’t he know? You like him for him, not for a manufactured idea of him.

In his mind this is the great start of a first date (for a second he forgot the text Damian has send him), but for you? You are panicking as you quickly find a secluded booth as you attempt to calm your breathing. You know your face isn’t as reactive as you are internally, truly you’ve mastered a poker face without ever playing. It would be impressive if the reason wasn’t so pathetic, as you would rather die than show anyone how the pain you feel haunts you.

It’s also the one thing Conner dislikes about you, for your facial expressions are something he adores. You look so pretty when you frown, you look hot when you look at him as if you know all he’s thinking. You look so cool when you roll your eyes, for it is never in contempt. It is always done in a manner of; “I know you mean well to an extent, but please shut your mouth.”

Some would say you look ignorant and arrogant with that poker face, when Conner had just met you he would have agreed. But now he knows the twitches of your pupils, he knows how your fingers tap the table. He knows all your clues, he just wishes you showed them with all your might.

But you won’t.

As said before; you hate showing your facial expressions as they always betray the pain you are feeling. As they always betray how you hold your hands so that they don’t tremble with every pain attack you have.

But that is not something you should focus on right now. You are on a date, your focus should be on him. Don’t be selfish… You don’t want to become the person Alfred told you you were, now do you?

So suck it up, pretend nothing is wrong as anxiety and pain crawls up your spine. As your whole body screams at you for relief, you want this date. So finish it.

NEXT PART

Taglist OPEN: @wisefuncherryblossom, @ichbswa, @vndexd,@nymphzy0, @lettucel0ver, @galaxypurplerose, @yuyuzi-ling, @princessbonnie-bell, @1abi, @ichbswa, @n-lol, @sereinitysmind, @mei-simp, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @bellethesleepypotato, @c4xcocoa, @staarflowerr, @funtimekoda14

[4mrplumi]

crow choir: seven minutes

min. four - flight (batfam x neglected!reader)

ms. 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08

september brings heavy rain, turning the poorly-drained streets of gotham into canals. when you were younger, the people in your building would stock up on food before the rain, to avoid leaving the house for weeks on end.

a cloudburst surprises you, jumping at you, catching you outside while you’re speed-walking to the bus stop. isn’t that just awesome? the other kids at school go home by cabs, or get someone to pick them up. you’re too nervous to even ask, brushing a displaced twig off your uniform, pulling at the coat to shelter yourself from the cold.

it’s been only a few hours since the rogue attack that’d come up around your school. there wasn’t… much damage done, at least by regular standards. a few minor injuries, two, maybe three unusable classrooms… nothing a few generous donations from the waynes couldn’t fix. gotham prep seems to be an attractive spot for such things, absolutely crowded with children who have net worths larger than the economies of a few small countries, bound to earn a rookie rogue some name.

some things, however, are not easily fixable. you'd been in maybe one classroom away from the place where the rogue crashed through the ceiling, sending dust and bits of the building flying. maybe got scratched by just a bit of debris, enough for the aid team to pick you and drag you along to get patched up. officer gordon had been there, his brown coat sticking out from a little pride of navy-clad others. you’ve seen him before, but not so close.

slow work, there were only so few nurses, and for the most part; you were just sitting around. the worst injury was a broken leg, your’s was just a scratch under the eye. gordon stood at the outskirts of the crowd, talking to the other officers. the matter must’ve been over in an hour or so, you lost track of the time picking at your nails, but when you looked up from your fingers, most of the other kids had already dispersed to a few dramatic, howling parents or stiff faced and sick looking wardens. no sign of alfred, and you wouldn’t dare ever hope to see bruce.

there was only you and some junior girl left in a few moments, and you feel yourself quiver uncomfortably when gordon walked up to the two of you. he nodded to the girl, saying something about an aunt, a taxi, and only after she stood up wobbly and left, he looked at you.

and he looked at you with pity.

you tried not to think too much about it. you weren’t really hurt anyway. it wouldn’t matter to you if anyone, any wayne, you think a little humorously, came to see you. you really don’t care, even when you looked away from gordon and he pulled back the hand he might’ve put on your shoulder. you don’t need comfort, because you don’t care.

the bus ride home feel like forever, but not anymore than a few minutes. you close your eyes, but don’t sleep, because it’s dangerous to be vulnerable in gotham. or dependant. or soft. damn, you can’t be anything in gotham other than miserable all the time.

when you get to the manor, the front door’s locked. with a lot of frustration, you make your way to the back, a couple billion miles away, because heavens forbid you have to hear that awful tolling doorbell ring or have someone open the door for you. the kitchen’s usually empty this time around, alfred’s little garden door is probably open, you could sneak-

“that’s all of them,” a voice says, and you fumble with the doorknob while in the process of closing it. “once robin reports back we can update gordon and close the situation.”

robin? you shut the door quietly, glimpsing out from behind a half-wall casually. it’s just bruce and tim, what business do they have with robin and gordon? must’ve been important… you shake gordon’s pitying expression out of your head, very important.

“he’s said that all the casualties at the school are being handled, all the students and teachers have already gone home.” you want to roll your eyes to ward off the sad little thing in your chest that starts to swell, before tim speaks up. he always catches you off guard. you hate it.

“what about (name)?” the small second of silence that follows makes you uncomfortable, and you shift on your feet. you can sense it in bruce’s voice too, a hesitant unsureness, unfamiliar, dare you hope; guilty?, twinge to it. “gordon said all the students.” another pause. “i’ll ask.”

you’re flooded with very few feelings. nothing that breaks your dam and drowns the villages under it, just enough to make a mess around your windows. just leave, (name), something coos at you, you don’t have to care about this. you don't care about this, remember?

maybe they see you go up the stairs. maybe they don’t notice you at all. maybe they’ve left already, you didn’t try to see if they were still there, lest they catch a glimpse of some expression in your face, some expression you didn’t know you were making. a small, selfish part of you hopes they notice.

you don’t care, you don’t need to. these are trivial things, you’re not even hurt. anywhere. they don’t notice.

you find out next week, while giving some girl at the back of a convenience store piercings with a stapler pin, with reina, that the basement-rink was broken into that same day. a lot of the folks had kept their dogs down there, and the whole lot had gone off. “boy wonder maybe,” the girl chewed on the words to avoid squeaking from the pain from the staples, “or the cops. can’t go no-where near now.”

the news makes you a little dejected, but you don’t… care. you don’t need to. you had no dogs. the girl gives you a little cash, walking off hissing and touching her ears gently. reina catches your eye, raising a plucked brow. her uncle’s house is the worst place to hang out, but it’s better than nothing.

you spend all seven evenings of the week on the stairs next to his apartment with reina. her birthday passes in november, you celebrate it at her house, with a few of her cousins and friends you don't know. the girl who’s ears you’d pierced passed away that same month, you hear from a guy she’d been with in the rink, shooting at a store- the dynamic duo a few minutes too late. reina’s uncle starts smelling more and more like cheap booze and weed, airing out his apartment does nothing, so the two of you shift to the terrace. you think see robin one day, then giggle over the absurdity of it, chasing down a blob of red with your eyes before the ‘boy’ turns out to be a stowaway shirt.

you push away the intimate words reina says to you, how you’re practically her family, and struggle to say it back. she just grins; “it’s no big deal”, but you notice how she looks away for a millisecond.

in december, your sister is a stranger. no blur of colours come to mind, when you squeeze your eyes and try to think about her. her voice feels fake, plastic in quality, a mumble through a discarded vintage speaker. you only remember how she feels. she feels cold.

you get a few gifts on christmas, a mug from damian, tailored suits from bruce and dress shoes from alfred (you doubt you’ll ever wear either) and a whole canary from dick. you let it out the next day, perplexed and annoyed. you're not lik your little brother. you don't have any energy to care for anything.

when he comes to visit in january, dick, that is, you’re forced to go diner-hopping with damian and tim, the only ones available apart from you, and listen to them mutter about the weather and “back when…”’s and “remember how…”’s. small talk, skirting around things they really want to say. want to say- but not in your presence, you realise. you can’t blame them. it’s not their fault. you’re imposing.

you stay quarantined in your room for a few days after, the doctors from quora saying “mood sickness” can be cured by retreating into yourself like a cryptid. it doesn’t work. reina lends you a tablet, and it dissolves in your mouth like chalk. doesn’t do anything, since it takes choking over a few disgusting toffees with her to forget how awful you’ve been feeling, but it tastes good.

you grow up. you press yourselves onto the jackets on drunk strangers to sneak into their after parties, and reina bets on new dogs, the breeds being cards and dice. she racks up a score, a man offers to sneak her into a club. she drops you home before she goes, but texts you only an hour later- “busted. red hood.”

you see jason at midnight again. he’s sitting on the couch, a hand on his head. he doesn’t notice you, so you pretend you don’t notice him. somedays, you feel bad for him. you wonder if he'll jump, or hiss, or run away if you call out. you wonder if he'll stay. you don't dare try to find out.

don’t think about it (name), a voice coos again, you don’t need to care about any of this.

the fourth minute passes quickly.

˖ 𑣲 a/n: this insert has forfeited all material possesions and attained enlightment. cassandra cain has found her sibling wasting away in a tub. reina is a non-confrontational coward and is plotting to run away from gotham forever. dick grayson wonders where your christmas birdie went :((( sorry for the late and (relatively) short update, but thank you for reading!!

taglist: @lettucel0ver @marsmabe @alishii @1abi @c4xcocoa @bbmgirll @sirenetheblogger @privatebumblebee @noone1233nobody @4ishere @mev-fizzah-writes @quack-a-vasion @myjumper @pix-stuff @callenreesevzx @cupid73 @nininehaaa @nisarelle @jjsmeowthie @ollyissleepy @uppersurper @angwngss @thatoneraeder @justonerandomreader @sadeem575 @theproblemisthatimnotfictional @noone1233nobody @dork-star @zephrnyx @ghostlyworld @depressed-bitchy-demon @staarflowerr @czerwka @chuiisi @zuyeak1 @chiizuluvr

[5starluvr]

Camera on!

pairing: jeongin (idol au) x reader (camgirl au)

genre:smut,angst, slow burn, idol!jeongin, digital intimacy, strangers-to-obsession

summary:

Jeongin’s burnt out, wired, and alone when he stumbles into a camgirl’s live stream late one hot summer night. He doesn’t mean to stay. But hearts.for.y/n speaks softly, moves slowly, and makes him feel seen — maybe for the first time in weeks.

warnings:

Explicit sexual content (camgirl themes, masturbation, dirty talk), idol burnout, parasocial tension, voyeurism, loneliness, stress relief sex, mild angst. 18+ only.

a/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for ages but bear with me because I'm working on a 300 follower special!

The heat hit different at night.

June wasn’t supposed to feel like this — like breathing through cotton, like walking through syrup. It clung to Jeongin’s skin, glued the fabric of his hoodie to the slope of his back. The air outside wasn’t much better, even though it was half-past nine and the sky had already dipped into its navy black.

The streetlights glowed like sickly moons above the cobbled path that led back to his building. Their reflections shimmered in puddles left by some late-afternoon storm, still warm enough to steam.

A mosquito buzzed past his ear.

He flinched, half-heartedly swatting it away, one earbud dislodging. His phone dangled from the cord tucked into his pocket, playing some playlist he’d put on shuffle just to drown things out. Drill-heavy bass and synth distortion. Not even music anymore. Just white noise with a beat.

His body ached.

His thighs felt like taut wires. Ankles swollen. His neck cracked every time he rolled it. He’d taken two painkillers after rehearsal, but they hadn’t done shit. His brain still buzzed with the tempo of today’s dance routine. Four hours in the practice room and he could still feel the mirrored walls watching him, like they expected more.

Comeback season was hell. It always had been. But this one? This one was worse.

Fan expectations, choreo revisions, back-to-back filming and live promotions. Their label didn’t believe in slowing down. And Jeongin? He didn’t believe in stopping. Not even when it felt like his lungs were folding in on themselves.

He just needed to make it home.

His apartment was a few blocks from the dorms. Management knew he needed his own space sometimes, and tonight — after rehearsals, after the screaming match over harmonies, after the latest toxic DM from a “fan” telling him to smile less — tonight, he’d taken it.

When the elevator doors finally opened to his floor, Jeongin didn’t breathe. Not until he shut the door behind him, keys rattling, breath hitching in his throat.

His apartment was small. Clean enough. Dimly lit. Silent.

He dropped his bag on the floor with a dull thunk, kicked off his shoes, and peeled the hoodie off his body like second skin. His undershirt was damp with sweat. He could smell himself — deodorant and heat and the faintest trace of cologne.

He stood in the dark for a moment, listening.

The silence wasn’t peaceful. It felt like pressure behind his eyes. Like a scream he was holding in his jaw. His limbs wouldn’t stop buzzing — not from adrenaline, but from the absence of it.

He needed to come down.

He needed something to pull him out.

His phone buzzed. A few Discord notifications from friends he hadn’t seen in weeks. A message from Chan hyung — a check-in he wasn’t ready to answer yet.

He let the phone fall onto his bed, screen up. The light cast shadows across his room — soft, blue, clinical.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, head hanging low.

Then he layed back.

His hand found the phone again.

And without thinking — truly, without even a plan — he opened the app. Not Instagram. Not Twitter. Not anything anyone would expect.

The icon was simple. A pastel pink heart inside a dark square.

Sugary.

A cam site. One of the sleek, newer ones. He’d only ever browsed once or twice — curiosity, boredom, too much time in hotel rooms between shows. It wasn’t like porn. It was closer. Less pixelated, more real. People talked to each other. Names were said. Faces were visible. You could pretend, for just a second, that it was for you.

The home screen loaded.

Dozens of thumbnails. All live. Some neon-lit, some blurred. Some with girls squatting in latex. Some with couples. A few dudes.

Then — his thumb stopped.

Username: Hearts.for.y/n

LIVE NOW

The thumbnail was a softly lit room, golden fairy lights curling behind a silk curtain. A girl sitting on a plush velvet chair. Dark hair falling over one shoulder. Skin lit like candlelight. Black and purple lingerie — delicate, almost too pretty to be real.

She looked directly into the camera.

Jeongin hesitated.

Her face wasn’t the kind he usually stared at in passing. She didn’t pout or pose. She looked… calm. Soft. But with this confidence — like she knew she was being watched and liked it. Like it wasn’t performance — it was control.

He tapped the screen.

It opened.

And suddenly, her voice filled his room.

The stream buffered for half a second. Just a flicker.

Then her room bloomed into his screen.

Low lighting. Golden fairy lights wrapped along the back of her headboard. The camera was angled slightly from below, centered on her knees — bent loosely, parted just enough to hint, not show.

She sat with her legs folded beneath her in a high-backed chair. Her lingerie looked even more delicate up close. Black lace with sheer purple accents, scalloped just under her breasts, tied at the front with a small satin bow. Her skin caught the light like honey. Smooth. Bare. She wore no jewelry except for a thin chain around her neck that disappeared into the dip between her collarbones.

And her face—fuck.

She wasn’t smiling. Not yet. Just gazing into the lens like it was someone’s eyes. Like she was waiting for a response.

Then she spoke.

“Hey, babies” she murmured.

Jeongin’s breath caught.

Her voice was like velvet over glass. Soft, smooth, but with a quiet tension, like she was holding something back. She licked her lips slowly, eyes flicking between chat messages popping up in the corner.

“Oh, you guys showed up early tonight,” she said with a small smirk. “And needy, as always.”

Someone in the chat sent a rose emoji. Another user dropped a comment: God, I missed you.

Jeongin watched the chat speed up. It was fast, but not so fast that she couldn’t keep up.

And then — without warning — she reached for something off-camera.

A bottle of oil.

She poured a slow stream onto her hands. It glistened as it dripped between her fingers. Then she leaned forward and pressed her palms to her thighs — dragging them upward, spreading the oil in slick circles as she exhaled into the mic.

“I want you to watch every second of this,” she said. “Don’t look away.”

Jeongin’s breath hitched again.

His hand moved instinctively to the waistband of his sweatpants.

He shouldn’t. He knew that. It felt a little too personal. Too close. But his cock was already hardening — straining, twitching, reacting to nothing more than her tone, her touch, the way her fingers moved in slow, teasing loops around her inner thighs.

She hadn’t even taken anything off yet.

This wasn’t some rapid-fire porn loop. She was dragging it out. And fuck — she was good at it.

“I had a long day,” she whispered. “Thought about this all through dinner. Couldn’t stop. Kept picturing how hot it gets in here when I make you beg.”

A small whimper left her mouth as she trailed her oiled hand between her legs — over the lace, not under. Teasing.

Her breath faltered, just slightly. Real.

That sound went straight to Jeongin’s dick.

He shoved his sweatpants down, boxers too, and hissed softly as his cock slapped against his stomach — flushed, leaking, desperate. He grabbed it with one hand and started stroking, slow and tight at the base.

She hadn’t touched herself properly yet — and he was already half gone.

“You’re watching, right?” she asked the camera. “You better be watching.”

He was.

He didn’t blink.

She slid two fingers down the seam of her panties. Pressed. Gasped. Her other hand cupped her breast through the mesh — thumb rubbing slow circles over her nipple until it stiffened visibly through the fabric.

“God, I’m so wet already,” she whispered. “Should I take it off?”

The chat exploded.

She laughed — not a giggle. A low, rich laugh, like she knew exactly what power she held.

Jeongin’s hand sped up slightly, his hips twitching upward. He bit his lip hard.

She rose to her knees, her chest heaving. Then — she pulled the bow loose at her sternum.

The top peeled open like a gift. Her tits fell free — soft, flushed, nipples tight. She didn’t cover them. Just ran her slick hands over the curves, lifting them, pressing them together, fingers pinching her nipples until she moaned into the mic again.

Jeongin was close. Too close. He squeezed tighter, groaning under his breath, hips stuttering up into his fist.

She looked into the camera and said — almost gently:

“Touch yourself for me. Like you mean it. Like you need this more than anything.”

His stomach tightened.

He came.

Hard.

The orgasm ripped through him, his toes curling, body shaking, cum striping across his bare stomach as his mouth fell open in a silent curse.

On screen, she kept going — but slower now. Softer. Her body glistening, hair tousled, her breath shallow and satisfied.

“I’ll stay for a little longer,” she whispered, eyes half-lidded. “Just for you.”

His body was still twitching.

A few seconds passed before his brain caught up to what had just happened. Before the room settled back into stillness, and he realized — in the aftermath of it all — he was still gripping his cock, now soft and wet in his hand, a ribbon of cum cooling on his stomach.

Jeongin exhaled.

Not in relief.

In confusion.

He let go of himself, arm dropping beside him like a dead weight. His breath was still heavy, uneven. The room felt hotter now, though the AC had kicked on somewhere in the background. He could hear it humming faintly, battling against the summer night that pressed like a second skin against the windows.

On-screen, Hearts.for.y/n was still speaking.

But softer now. Slower. She’d pulled her top back up loosely, the bow hanging undone, hair falling over one shoulder. Her voice had shifted into something quieter — not sultry, not performative — more like she was confiding something.

“I always feel warm after,” she said. “Like the room holds onto the heat. You know what I mean?”

Jeongin stared at her face.

Not her chest. Not her thighs. Her eyes.

They weren’t pretending anymore.

He reached for the tissues on the side table, wiping himself down in a practiced motion. Muscle memory. Not proud. Not ashamed either. Just numb. But this wasn’t like the other times. Porn didn’t leave you with a heartbeat like this. Porn didn’t leave a voice crawling inside your chest long after the body cooled.

She leaned forward to end the stream.

“I’ll be live again tomorrow,” she said. “Midnight. Same place.”

Then — she looked right into the lens, and smiled.

Not sexy. Not coy. Genuine.

“Sleep well, baby.”

The stream ended.

His screen returned to the Sugary homepage. A dozen other girls loaded into the slots beneath where her stream had been, but none of them even touched the part of his brain that was still on fire. That voice. That smile.

That strange, stupid illusion that she’d been speaking to him.

Jeongin wiped his hands on his sweatpants and tossed them into the laundry basket. He rolled over, stared up at the ceiling. The fan above him spun lazily, doing nothing.

He knew what this was. Camgirls made you feel seen. That was the trick. Nothing magical. Just attention, well-disguised.

It wasn’t personal.

But he couldn’t shake it. That feeling — the one in his chest that wasn’t just sex. The one that crawled through his ribs and settled like guilt.

He wasn’t lonely, not really. He had friends. Members. Hyungs. A fandom. Millions of people who watched his every move. What he ate. What he wore. How he breathed.

But tonight, in the silence of his apartment, it wasn’t his schedule or his fans or even his exhaustion that haunted him.

It was her.

The screen.

The way she spoke like she meant it.

Jeongin sat up again, eyes catching on the tab still open at the top of his browser.

He hovered over it. Closed it.

Paused.

Opened a new one.

Typed her name into the Sugary search bar: hearts.for.y/n

Her profile loaded. Basic info. Bio: “Soft things for hard nights.”

He didn’t follow her.

But he read the stream schedule.

Tomorrow — 12:00 AM — “Slow Burn.”

He stared at the words for a long time.

Told himself he wouldn’t be there.

Told himself this was a one-time thing.

——

Jeongin lasted until 11:52 PM.

He told himself he wasn’t going to watch. That last night was a fluke. A moment of weakness. He hadn’t gotten off properly in days. He was tired, sweaty, stressed. He’d needed release.

But it wasn’t about getting off. Not really. Not anymore.

It was the way she’d said goodnight. The way her fingers had touched her skin like she liked it. Like she knew what it did to him. Not the performance — but the control.

And tonight, he was already in bed, laptop propped on his thighs, browser open to Sugary’s home screen before the clock hit midnight.

He wasn’t proud of it.

He was wired.

The lights were off. AC running. A single desk lamp cast a warm circle behind him — not for reading. Just in case his face reflected on the screen.

12:00 AM sharp.

Her icon went live.

hearts.for.y/n — LIVE NOW: “Slow Burn.”

He clicked.

This time, she was sitting in front of a mirror.

Her room looked the same — fairy lights, silk curtains, everything soft — but the angle was new. The camera showed her back now, her reflection in the glass. She sat on the edge of a low bed, knees pulled up, her silk robe falling open just enough to tease the curve of her thigh.

“Hey,” she whispered. “You’re back.”

Jeongin stiffened.

It was irrational — she couldn’t see him — but her voice still hit like a pinpoint to the chest.

She turned toward the lens.

“I figured you would be,” she smiled, barely. “You were quiet last night, though. No comments. Just watching.”

His heart dropped.

That couldn’t be about him. She had hundreds of viewers. Thousands sometimes.

Coincidence.

Right?

She uncrossed her legs and reached for her phone.

“I got a few anonymous messages today,” she said, scrolling. “A lot of them were sweet. A few were filthy. And one was… different.”

She tapped a few times. Looked up again.

Jeongin’s hands curled into fists under the sheets.

She started reading:

“I watched you last night. Not just to jerk off. I needed something quieter than my own head. I don’t even think I came for you. I think I came because you made the noise stop.”

Jeongin forgot how to breathe.

That had been his message. Sent anonymously. Half on impulse, half confession. He’d typed it after lying in the dark for twenty minutes, staring at the words “Soft things for hard nights.”

She licked her lips.

Her eyes shimmered, even through the screen.

“I read this one a few times today,” she said softly. “More than a few.”

Jeongin’s throat closed.

She looked down again. Her fingers played idly with the tie of her robe.

“You said I made the noise stop,” she whispered. “That’s… kind of beautiful, baby.”

The robe slipped from her shoulder, exposing the smooth slope of skin, the dip of her collarbone.

“I want to do that again tonight,” she continued. “Not just make you come. I want to make you quiet.”

Jeongin’s hand was already under the sheets.

She looked directly into the camera.

“Tell me you’re here,” she whispered.

He didn’t type.

He didn’t have to.

She reached for the tie at her waist, pulled it loose, and let the robe fall.

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

hi I have an idea rotting away in my brain and I cannot write it and I cannot get anyone to hear me out, so what do you think of when if when you. Reader inhales fear toxin, right? But it makes them see their partner, and like get all scared of them, even the real one, one of the batboys, and I just, I’m curious because I think that would hurt.

like imagine looking into your partners eyes and knowing that you scare them. I think it would hurt good

ᝰ.ᐟ tysm the the ask noonie

⌯⌲ jason peter todd always knew of the dangers working for the life of batman's mission , his cursade and the fullfillment of it. he amqays knew that saving the innocent from the creaky claws of gotham was no easy task and often enough leaves you bloody and confused.

he knew one day death or maybe karma would sneak back behind him and get one over him for the shit he has done but he'd never think it would get the way it did today.

you , his beautiful , amazing , loving and caring partner is laid over your shared bed crying your heart out . a stark contrast to how you left his apartment an hour ago. " jayyyy ~ im going out be back in like 15 mins okay don't burn the house down !" came your joyful voice down the corridor as you left the apartment likely to buy yourself a starbucks and much needed groceries.

now ? now your hear wailing your heart out on your bed , eyes blood shot red as you curlled in yourself , " baby - are you okay ?" came jason'a soft voice as he approached your form on the figure , hands stretched out . you immediatly jump back , scampering away like a scared child. " LEAVE ME ALONE - PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE STOP !! " you exclaimed as you practically crawlled away from him.

jason practically blanched as his face twisted in saddness as he calmly stepped outside onto the balcony. he can hear you rustling around in there like a wounded animal as he had to breathe - had to figure out what was going on when his phone started ringing off .

he glanced down to the caller id and found richard grayson himself callkng him. frankly he was about the throw his phone of the balcony out of sheer annoyance - now is not the time for dick's stupid theories and shenigans but something in his gut told him to answer him.

he swiped on the caller and low and behold came dick's frantic voic , " jay - jay scarcrow released fear gas downtown from you guys - " and thats when the phone slipped form jason's phone. that explains everything , your franticness , you were scared . scared of him. he swallowed heavy as he picked up back his phone . " is - is there a cure - is everyone going to be okay ?" he let out shakey.

dick was silent for a moment , whether he was taken back by how vulnerable his brother sounded or if he was asking tim if he figured out what was going on he didn't saw and that pissed jason off , he hated how the silence was stretching on and his anxiety was bubbling inside him. finally came dick's voice , " yeah - timbo said a solid half an hour or so shpuld wear off . wait do you get gased ? are you okay -" and jasin cut the call at dick's insitent rambling.

he glanced inside before he properly let himself back in . there was no sight of you and that made jason crazy as he began worrying the worst. he quietly creot around the apartment and thats when he meets you , laid out on the kitchen floor , eyes glassy , just laid there. he approached slowly before he picked you up from the floorm he felt you body flinch and he tried not to let it bother him but fuck did it .

he carefully placed you in the center of the bed , ypur sniffles echo throughout the quiet apartment . " honey ?" he called out and for a while you didn't answer just stared up at the ceiling. " jay ?" you finally answered. " yeah baby ?" he called after. fianlly , you turn your eyes to him and jason has to physically hold back his flinch as his gaze met your broken one.

" are you okay ?"he finally asks , hands reaching to hold your own. " ....it felt so real.....when...when you shot me " you trailed off and jason had to swallow back the vile in his throat. " baby i didn't - i will never shoot you it was the fear gas making you hallucinate " jason pleaded. you didn't answer back just contiuned to stare at him. " i know...but it felt so real bleeding out in my bed while you walked away.." you trailed off.

jason could feel the anxiety in his stomach tighten , " baby - that didn't happen , was just a bad dream" he pleaded as he cupped your hand harder. you nod in understanding and soon fell asleep leaving jason to collaspe beside you as he swore to himself to protect you better.

[thattimdrakeguy]

The Best Way To Write Jason Todd Teaming Up With The Bat-Family

It's no secret people in the fandom love the Bat-Family members being one happy family, and having it include everyone.

I still think it's stupid, though.

Hey, like what you like, folks. I can't stop you.

But you can't stop me from having my opinions either.

I simply do not see how making Jason another one of the crowd benefits his character in any sort of way. He was popular because he was so different was he not? But like many of the other Bat-Family characters, being different seemed illegal, so they had to take some of that away. He may still use guns, but they're rubber bullets. These days it seems like he's mostly just another of the crew. Which is...I'm going to be real as real can be...that sounds so boring.

And I can't actually recall a character arc, just sort of moments that dashed to the finish line of him teaming up, and not done in any way that used any real character work. Instead it used a fascinating technique, sometimes commonly referred to as lazy and sometimes downright lousy writing. That's sort of lame.

Why waste the potential?

But I think some people may misunderstand me when I talk about this subject sometime. They may think I'm too stuck, can't accept anything different. Can't accept change.

As far as I'm concerned I just don't accept bad changes, or unearned changes, or changes that I feel are a detriment to the appeal of the character.

I just don't want anything that takes away from anything that made something so good to begin with.

All those potential stories we could've had, ran away because someone was lazy and in a rush for instant gratification. Hard to be a fan of that personally.

However, I don't think Jason Todd should NEVER be able to team up with the Bat-Family. That's also limiting, and is a bit too simple.

Didn't even remember this scene in Under the Hood in the slightest, but as I continued to read, I realized that somehow, this story from 20 years ago, and this issue I don't even have a vague memory of that much, already showed how I feel it should be done.

So that's convenient I happened to be reading it today.

And it's really good story telling and character work too. That stuff is like my crack. Instead of how it would later be done, which is total ass-crack.

It represents the complicated history and dynamic between Jason Todd and Batman. They're against each other. Jason's an antagonist, not a villain, but an antagonist. Please research the difference if you don't already know it, there is a difference there. An antagonist can simply be people with different goals in conflict with the protagonist. They don't have to necessarily be bad guys or villains or evil.

Batman and the Red Hood though...they're not exactly enemies are they?

That's his son. Can't change that. I imagine somewhere in ol' stately Wayne Manor, the adoption papers are still there to prove it.

The feelings are complicated and complex, heavy and deep. It gives you so much more to work with, so much more opportunity for good stories and character moments.

Showing that, in spite of it all, there's still a level of trust in one another they can't deny because of their conflicts.

Can't get that with Joker.

Couldn't even get THIS much out of it with Huntress.

That uniqueness I care about so much with these characters is here and present. They are THEM! Not a cheap copy. Not a badly written duplicate. They're THEM, and no body else. You can only get this WITH THESE CHARACTERS.

Gives ya a reason to check out this issue in particular because of how well their complex relationship is represented! Instead of it being another generic team-up, with no creativity to be seen like later on many times.

This all sort of goes back to a post I made about excellent character writing represented in the Adam Beechen run of Robin. Where Tim and Boomerang where working together and didn't like each other.

I know most people won't go back to find that post. I wouldn't expect you too.

So I'll summarize the basic ideas as: Ya gotta earn your moments, never lie to yourself about how these characters would ever act, and always maximize potential as much as possible, never lose a drop of it.

And that's all represented exactly here too. Just with different characters, reacting the way they would, doing the things they would. It's very different from the Tim and Boomerang issue since these are very different characters, but the same basic principals within the writing remain, because that's what good stories are made of no matter what.

They are not cheaping out on us. Giving us the easy change up, where oh, sweet dear Jason learns his lessons.

Fuck no.

And ruin the ongoing story like that, when you can do so much better?

Puh-lease.

It's all about the character work, baby. Every moment, every drink, every drop, never turns to slop. It is phenomenal, it is wonderful, it feels like it is the way it's meant to be.

Oh, the things we could've had.

Good character development doesn't come at the expense of contradicting what we know, or losing out on potential.

As I've said before.

Good character development ADDS, it doesn't take away.

It's an important thing, often forgotten, like so many others things as the years pass.

[fluentmoviequoter]

To Have You

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!veteran!reader

Summary: Lucy makes a bet with Tim that she can set him up on the perfect date. He isn't convinced - for more reasons than one - but accepts the challenge anyway.

Warnings: implications of cheating, very brief angst, fluff, rewrite of 2x03 "The Bet"

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“Hey,” Lucy murmurs, taking long strides to catch up with Tim as he enters the booking area after placing their most recent arrest in holding. “I know you’re gonna say no, but… I think I can help.”

“With what?” he asks, sparing a quick glance at her as he begins filling out a form.

“Well, you know, I know how hard it is to meet people in L.A.”

Tim’s brows furrow before he turns toward her, dropping his voice to reply, “Wait. You wanna set me up?"

Lucy widens her eyes as an answer, leading Tim to scoff in disbelief.

“Forget it,” he answers. “Even if this wasn’t your dumbest idea yet, there is no way you’d be able to pick someone right for me.”

“Oh! Um, I bet I can,” she exclaims, standing straighter. “I’m serious. If I can fix you up on one good date – just one – I get to, uh… I get to wear short sleeves.”

Lucy shrugs, clearly pleased with her plan. Tim’s face remains impassive as he drops his chin.

“Okay,” he concedes.

Her smile widens as she repeats, “Okay.”

Tim begins to return his attention to the booking sheet, but raises his hand and stipulates, “But you’re paying.”

“Whatever.” Lucy is too excited to see any downside to this deal and Tim knows it.

“And if you lose,” he adds, “you’ll do 50 push-ups after every call we take.”

Lucy’s mood dampens slightly with that, but as Tim picks up the pen again, he knows he is going to win this bet. His claim that Lucy can’t find someone right for him isn’t a lack of faith in her, it’s a genuine, fact-based belief. There is one woman in Los Angeles that he’d be capable of going on a successful date with, and she’s happily married.

“Hey, Rachel,” Lucy greets, inviting her friend into her apartment. “Thank you for coming and for agreeing to this.”

“Of course,” Rachel replies. “I’m always in to help you… and if I get to prove a point to a jerk like Bradford, that’s even better.”

“Right, right. So, first thing I should probably admit is that I have absolutely no idea what Tim looks for in women. I don’t know if he even dates, I just started talking and then this bet was made.”

Rachel lays her hand on Lucy’s arm to stop her rambling. “Lucy, he agreed to the bet, and even if I think he doesn’t respect you like he should, I doubt he’d say yes just because he knew there was absolutely no way you could lose, not like that.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” Lucy sighs. “What do you think you’d need to know to make the date a good one?”

“Just tell me about him,” Rachel encourages. “What’s he like to talk about, do in his free time?”

Tim pushes his front door open with a sigh. He regrets agreeing to Lucy’s bet, but there’s not much he can do about it now. If he backs out, she’ll want to know why he changed his mind, and that’s not a conversation Tim wants to have. Not with anyone, especially not with a boot.

“Are you okay?”

The muscles in Tim’s shoulders loosen, his arms dropping heavily at his sides as he turns toward the couch. Your brows are drawn together, your phone forgotten by your hip as you watch him.

“I’m good,” he promises, smiling at the relieved sigh you don’t bother hiding.

“Dinner’s in the oven, but I thought I had more time, so it won’t be done for 35 minutes,” you apologize, lifting your arms toward him.

Tim moves toward you, only stopping when his knees hit the couch. He was prepared to lay against you, rest his head on his chest and breathe you in, but then the memory of what he did today resurfaces.

“I made a stupid bet with a rookie today,” he admits.

“Okay?” you reply slowly, reaching for his hand. “What kind of bet?”

“She was convinced that she could set me up on a good date, and I told her she couldn’t find someone who was what I wanted. I don’t know why I didn’t push back more, but she’s going to set me up on a date and if it goes well, she gets to wear short sleeves, but if it doesn’t, she has to stay in long sleeves and do 50 push-ups after every call we take,” Tim rambles quickly.

“Lucy being the rookie, right?” Tim nods, so you tug his hand closer and encourage, “Go through with it. You love messing with boots; why is this any different?”

“Because I’m married to you,” Tim reminds you. As if you could ever forget him or the love you have for him.

“Yeah, well, I’d like to think that our bond is stronger than a fake date to punish a boot for looking into your personal life.”

Tim nods, dragging one knee onto the couch as he moves to lay beside you.

“What are you planning to do?” you ask, moving your hand over his shoulder to rub the tight muscle there.

Tim’s eyes close and his head grows heavier against you as he relaxes under your touch. “To ruin the date?”

“Mmhmm. Are you thinking like, be rude to the waiter or spill a drink?”

“I was just going to tell her I was married and let her ruin the rest of it herself,” Tim says against your neck. He kisses you, then adds, “Should scare her away, and Lucy will be watching.”

You nod, but before you can say anything more, his kisses grow closer together, moving toward the column of your throat. He drags his hand along your side, his silicone wedding band pressed against your skin where your shirt rides up.

“I love you,” you sigh.

“I love you,” Tim replies. “How are you?”

“You’re going to have to stop if you want an answer,” you mumble.

He laughs before he shifts to prop up on his elbow, smiling down at you as he pushes stray flyaways from your face.

“Did you go to the meeting?” he inquires then.

You nod against the cushion beneath you. “We solidified a lot of details, set up a plan for fundraising and chose vendors, but we can’t nail down a date.”

“What the event will be?”

“Silent auction, concert, dance, gala-style event,” you answer. “Just something that will let people dress up, get out, invest in something, and see who they’re supporting.”

“The VA is lucky to have you,” Tim says.

You shrug, and Tim kisses you. You don’t think of anything but him until the oven timer beeps. Yet, you don’t manage to get up until the second time it goes off, convinced that Tim’s good luck is the only reason your dinner isn’t burned.

Rachel was wrong, she realizes. She hadn’t even gotten out of her car in the restaurant’s parking lot before she found that Tim Bradford was not what she expected. He’s not a jerk, not a man who cares more about his reputation than the people around him, he’s just a little closed off. Most surprisingly, she thinks, is that he’s a complete gentleman. He’d open her car door, led her into the restaurant with pleasant small talk, pulled her chair out for her, and allowed her to order first.

“Lucy told me you’re a social worker?” Tim says as he spreads his napkin in his lap. “What made you choose to go into that line of work?”

“Oh, come on,” Lucy groans, watching Tim’s date from her car. “Say something stupid. That’s all you do around me.”

“Noble,” Tim muses when Rachel finishes.

She feels heat rise in her cheeks, raising her glass to hide her response to his flattery. Or is it something more? she wonders.

“So, why did Lucy set you up?” Rachel asks. “Committed to the job, claim you don’t have time to date?”

Tim shakes his head, forcing himself not to picture you laughing at what he’s about to say. “Oh, I mean, I get hit on,” he admits.

“That I believe,” Rachel interjects.

“I didn’t ask Lucy why she wanted to, but I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. My love life isn’t what it used to be; dates don’t really happen anymore.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“We’re too busy.”

“We?” Rachel repeats.

“Oh, I’m married,” Tim says, drawing his brows together. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Is that-” Rachel stutters before she silences. She stands, throws what’s left in her glass onto Tim’s suit and steps back to grab her things.

“Yes, that’s a problem!” she exclaims. “What is wrong with you? What kind of jerk would do this?”

She storms away while Tim wipes his face dry. While Rachel leaves the restaurant, undoubtedly leaving to call Lucy, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and sends you a text. Your responding laughing emoji brings a smile to his face. When he’s sure Rachel - and likely Lucy - are gone, Tim sends the waiter a sly thumbs up.

“I told you to wait until her glass was empty,” Davey muses, smiling widely at the sight of Tim.

“And I told you not to go into food service when you got out of the service,” Tim counters.

“What can I say, Reaper? The middle-aged housewife type can’t get enough of me. And they tip well.”

“You’re still you, Davey.”

“Always, Sarge.”

Davey takes a to-go bag from a passing bus boy and offers it to Tim. “On the house. Tell the missus Abby and I said hello.”

“I will, and she’ll insist I invite you to dinner,” Tim replies as he stands. “Sunday?”

“We’ll be there,” Davey promises. “And maybe don’t invite your girlfriend.”

“Twenty-one,” Tim counts, leaning against the side of the shop with his arms crossed over his chest. “Twenty-two. Keep going, boot!”

“I’m… going,” Lucy says, grunting through a pushup. She thinks Tim is taking more calls today just to make her miserable. “What happened on the date anyway?” she asks.

“Rachel didn’t tell you?” Tim asks, genuinely surprised by that.

“No, just that she was right about you being a jerk and you didn’t try to stop her.”

“Why would I try to stop her after she said she wanted to leave?”

Lucy drops her knees to the pavement and pushes herself up to stand. “That’s what I thought,” she murmurs, “you’re nice enough to know when you should stop, but up until that point… I don’t get you.”

“Ask his wife!”

Tim sighs, letting his eyes close as a car door slams behind him. Rachel walks toward Tim and Lucy, looking at Tim’s left hand as she shakes her head.

“That’s what I thought,” she scoffs. “You don’t even wear your ring.”

“Whoa, what?” Lucy interrupts, her hands raised between Rachel and Tim. “You’re married?”

“Yes!” Rachel answers. “And he still agreed to go out, then asked if his being married was a problem.”

“I- I didn’t know you were married,” Lucy tells Tim.

“I am,” he answers. “And I would never cheat on her." He turns to Rachel to explain, "I didn’t want to go on the date, but Lucy wouldn’t drop it. I wasn’t going to do anything; I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, I for one, never want to see you again,” Rachel seethes.

She turns on her heel and leaves, leaving Lucy and Tim standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. Dispatch breaks the silence with a notification of a nearby distress call, stating that the caller asked for Sergeant Bradford specifically.

“Someone else who doesn’t know you’re married?” Lucy asks as she pulls her door open. “And don’t expect another pushup.”

“Excuse me?” Officer Chen asks when you open the front door. “You called 911?”

“You must be Lucy,” you reply, sending her an easy smile.

“Uh, yes, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry I asked Nell to lie to you, but I needed to tell you something.”

Lucy’s eyes widen when you say Nell’s name, and she fights the urge to look back at Tim.

“I’m Tim’s wife,” you begin.

“You married Tim Bradford?” Lucy clarifies, pointing over her shoulder. “Him? Why?”

“Because I love him, and we’re good together,” you answer. “I just wanted to explain something to you. Tim told me about the bet, and I don’t want you to lose respect for your TO over something like that.”

“He- he should have told me instead of letting me go through with it,” Lucy says weakly.

“I agree… now. I encouraged him to go through with it, to mess with you a little. Maybe it’s the military mentality of hazing, but it didn’t seem like there was anything to lose,” you explain.

“What if he’d… you know?” Lucy whispers.

“He wouldn’t,” you say firmly. “I trust him. And he trusts you, Lucy. He wouldn’t have let anyone else get far enough to suggest a bet like that. So don’t let this ruin your impression of him or your trust in him, okay?”

“Okay,” Lucy agrees, standing a little straighter as she smiles. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you reply. “Are you almost at meal break?”

“We are,” Lucy answers after glancing at her watch.

“Alright, come on in, I’ve been baking.”

Lucy rushes inside, already asking questions about you, your life, and your baking habits. Tim pushes the front door closed and then pulls you into a kiss that makes you forget you’re supposed to be serving guests.

“Wait, military? You met in the Army?” Lucy asks when you pass a cookie to her. “You’re cooler than your husband.”

“Boot,” Tim sighs.

[shortbcofkoffee]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 < Last

CW: Child abuse, manipulation, cursing, discussion of murder

Jason covered his face, or more accurately the front of his helmet, with his hand as his phone rang again , for the third time in 15 minutes. It was damn near midnight; if any of the bats needed to contact him, it could be through comms. Which meant that this wasn’t a real emergency and he was just being bothered.

“ Fucking Christ ,” he groaned. “Actually, we’re done, you can go.”

“Yessir,” the bald guy said. Some new guy who was managing their output of ket that Jason was supposed to be talking to before he went on a job.

Jason nodded and turned away to open his phone. It was Steph for some reason. Jason couldn’t think of a single reason she’d want to talk to him, he was pretty sure she hated him. He picked it up just before it rang through.

“Oh! I didn’t think you’d pick up,” Steph said. “What are you doing right now?”

“I’m a drug lord and it’s the middle of the night, what do you think I’m doing right now?”

“Well, it doesn’t actually matter, I just wanted to call you, I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m not getting you Adderall for your midterms or whatever, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not, but if you’re offering…”

“What do you want, Stephanie?” Jason got back on his bike.

“I need you to talk me out of killing someone. Because I want to do it, but I really don’t want to do it. Like I’m not gonna do it, but I need to settle my brain so I can finally go to sleep.”

Jason didn’t expect that. Steph didn’t seem like the type, but then again no one became a vigilante with a clean mental health record. “Who is it? Also why? If it’s your dad, I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to get talked out of it.”

“Huh? No, I’m way past wanting to kill my dad, success is the best revenge and all that. I, um…” she quieted for a moment. “I wanna kill Bruce. And before you ask why I didn’t ask Cass, I kinda already told her I wouldn’t kill him. Also, she’s like super firm on no killing ever again, and I don’t want to burden her with this.”

Jason blinked. “You… want to kill B?”

“Yeah.”

He bit his lip questioningly. It made sense, Bruce’d done a few pretty fucked up things to Steph too, but why now? “Why?”

“Why do you think? He’s been abusing Tim.”

Jason tsked. “Your girlfriend told you?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

“Jason, I need you to guilt me into not doing this. Tell me how much you hate killing people, even when it’s necessary.”

“I don’t hate it, though,” Jason admitted. “When people deserve it, they deserve it.”

That was the truth. It wasn’t as if Jason enjoyed killing people, but some people were better off dead. Bruce preached being all about redemption, and Jason somewhat agreed, but it gets to a point. Joker wouldn’t get better, some people didn’t want to get better. Those types of people would just continue to hurt others until the day they kicked the bucket. Jason just got them there faster. 

There were also people who were unforgivable. Abusers and rapists needed to die. But he also knew there were bigger pictures. Killing Bruce meant killing Batman. Not only was Batman part of the Justice League, but he also funded it basically alone. And no matter how often he thought about it, he’d never truly want to kill his dad. That was a good bit of hypocrisy on Jason’s part. That was one of three things Jason knew about himself. One, he was a hypocrite, two, he was a bad person, and three, he got shit done.

“What I can tell you though, is that you gotta milk him dry first,” he continues. “The only reason Sionas is still alive is because I can get shit out of him. You finish college first, then reconsider. If you still want him dead in a few years, go for it.”

“So your advice is… extort him until I can’t anymore.”

“Pretty much.”

Steph huffed. “I guess. Well, that’s all I needed. But if you do have any Adderall, I’ll need it next week.”

Jason parked his bike outside his safehouse. “I’m not giving you Adderall.”

> Incident Report - Tuesday, 10/27/20XX

> Written 01:36, Wednesday. 10/28/20XX

> Report provided by: Red Robin

> Accessed by: 

>

> Patrol began as usual, but was interrupted by the Batsignal at 22:21. There was an Arkham breakout involving patients Hareleen Quinzel, Harvey Dent, and Waylon Jones, as reported to Nightwing by Commissioner Gordon. 

> Quinzel was a high priority as Jones and Dent aren’t as urgent threats. We were split into teams, I with Batman (Team 1), Nightwing with Signal (Team 2), and Orphan with Spoiler (Team 3). Team 1 was looking for Dent, Team 2 for Quinzel, and Team 3 for Jones.

> Quinzel was found by Team 2 breaking into the plant nursery at 4782 Lord Gotham St. When she was apprehended, she cited her reason as ‘Looking for a present for my girlfriend.’ 

> While she was being transferred back to Arkham, the Batsignal went off again. Batman and I went to talk to the commissioner, where Edward Nygma, Riddler, had called in another bomb. It was at Candy City (573 Light St.). It was similar to yesterday’s bomb. There was a button to defuse it locked behind a four-digit code. I was sent to find the riddles to unlock the bomb while Batman stayed behind. Attached below are the riddles.

> [riddle1.jpg]

> [riddle2.jpg]

> [riddle3.jpg]

> [riddle4.jpg]

> [bombriddle.jpg]

> Like yesterday, there were parts of a padlock in the side riddles. Inside the bomb, there was another note that read “M___ the K__.” 

> We returned to the cave afterward, and no other escaped patients were found.

>

> Personal Notes:

> There was no peep about Scarecrow tonight, which is a little weird if he and Riddler are working together. I guess we should give it another day. Also, Holiday and Calendar Man are still in Arkham, and I think they will be until tomorrow or Friday. I’m not too worried about Killer Croc or Two-Face. Killer Croc’s not one for huge plans, and Two-Face takes a bit to actually do something.

> On another note, I don’t know if Riddler thinks we’re stupid or losing it, but Robin was right, these riddles are really dumb. I think the riddles themself are the riddle. They’re all Halloween-themed, so clearly he and Scarecrow are doing something for the holiday. I hope it’s nothing because Robin and Signal deserve to go trick-or-treating.

> There’s also been no sign of Riddler. Bombs, riddles, and clues, yeah, but no Eddie. Very weird, very annoying. I’m not worried about it, it could be because he’s only going to empty buildings. 

> 

> Investigative Notes:

Tim stretched and pushed away from the Batcomputer. All things considered, they finished up pretty early tonight, a full night patrol usually had them out until three. That was the only up of being busy, they got to go home earlier. Dick lounged on the couch from across the cave, doing something on his phone.

“You done?”

Tim groaned. “Yeah. I’m gonna knock out. See you tomorr- later today.”

Dick sprung up with more energy than Tim thought he should have. “Yup. Remember, we’re going to that cat cafe at noon.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tim yawned. “You should go to bed too.”

“I will, Timmy, don’t worry. And I’m technically on vacation, so I can sleep in.”

“Lucky you. I have to go to work in the morning.” Tim hummed as he started to climb the stairs. 

Tim was going to knock out the second he hit the pillow. That didn’t mean much, of course, because tomorrow was still another day. First, he had to go to work and put the paper expense reports of wherever the hell their money was going in terms of medical supply into his computer, then he’d go to that cafe at lunch, then it was back to the office to have a meeting and finish his daily workload. After that, he was back home for dinner and patrol and whatever Bruce needed. Tim’s bed was calling to him. All soft and warm, covering him in blankets and cushioning him on a firm mattress. 

Tim didn’t bother taking off his civies as he fell on his bed. His eyes were heavy as he pulled himself under the covers. Distantly, as his lids glued themselves shut, he thought he heard his door open. His body didn’t scream danger at him, and he’d be stretched thin tomorrow, so he let whoever it was do what they were gonna do. He stayed half awake, listening, waiting for them to move, but they never did. He heard the door close again and he fell asleep.

-

Waking up early to go to the office was the worst. The only good thing was that Tam was back from vacation. Tim could honestly kiss her when he saw her at her desk. Tanya was great and all, but Tim didn’t just have to be “Tim Drake, 17-year-old CEO” with Tam. She knew everything and did her best to accommodate when he was too tired to work.

Loathe as he did to admit it, Tam was his only friend outside of his family. Unless he counted Steph, which didn't really count because she was pretty much family at this point. He still had contact with Pru, he supposed, but they were just associates. Well, that was unfair to her; they were a little more than associates. 

Tim almost had a friend group in the Young Justice team, but that ship had sunk pretty quickly. It was hard to maintain a friendship on the other side of the country when there was always a reason for him to come back to Gotham. Robin was always needed for something or another, which was honestly to be expected. Tim had no idea how Dick was still friends with the other Titans.

“I didn’t know you were back today,” he smiled at Tam.

She leaned on her desk with her arms folded beneath her. “Yeah, well. You have the worst habit of putting a foot in the grave when you get overworked. It’s Halloween, so I figured you’d be extra busy.” 

“You’d be right.”

“I know I’m right, that’s why I’m here.” She opened a ledger on her desk where she kept his schedule. “You’re leaving at 11:15. Why?”

“Family lunch. We’re going to a cat cafe.”

Tam’s eyes lit up and she almost stood out of her chair. “Tim! Tim, you have to take me there, I fricking love cat cafes, I’ve always wanted to go to one!”

“What? Why, can’t you go with your sister or something?”

Tam glared dramatically. “I can think of a few reasons it has to be you.” Tim rolled his eyes. She always used the exact same reason. “You almost got me killed by super assassins and you cut off our engagement. Plus, you’re rich.” She stood and shoved a finger in his chest. “You’ll fly me out to Japan and take me to the biggest cat cafe in the world if I ask.”

Tim took a step back. “The biggest cat cafe in the world is in Tennessee.”

“Then you’ll take me to Tennessee, Tim .”

Tim couldn’t help but smile to himself. “Alright. Pick a date, and I’ll take you.”

She sat back down. “Good. Now you have expense reports to do.”

“Don’t remind me,” he sighed, adjusting the collar of his suit and walking into his office.

He wouldn’t mind taking Tam to Tennessee, just the two of them. Every other time they’d traveled together it went less than ideal, plus it’d be nice to get away from… everything. He didn’t know how much more he could take of Bruce right now. Right. Bruce.

He still hadn’t told Bruce he was going to Dick’s next week. He very much needed to, they were leaving on Monday and Tim was quickly running out of time. Because after he told Bruce, Bruce would have to marinate for at least a day, and it’s not like he could tell him on Saturday because Halloween sucked for everyone and Bruce would need Tim as soon as they got home, especially if Riddler and Scarecrow were plotting something big. Or maybe that was a reason to tell him on Saturday. So he could funnel all his energy to Bruce on Sunday and leave on Monday. But like late Saturday after patrol. Yeah, late Saturday.

One could only look at so many Excel spreadsheets in a day. One could only look at less cells in said spreadsheet talking about $22,000 to some abbreviated company name that owned a larger chain of pharmacies. Tim could very easily pay someone to do this, but he wasn’t that trusting. The whole reason Drake Industries went belly up was because the wrong person managed the money. 

Tim was about two seconds from jumping out his own window with no brother to catch him when his alarm went off. 11:15. He was free to go to lunch. Thank whatever God had taken mercy on him in his time of need. Tam asked him to tell him about the lunch when he got back. They parked outside about fifteen minutes early, so Tim laid his seat back and waited. Their reservation was at noon. As it always was with Waynes, this was as much a PR thing as it was a lunch. They couldn’t go anywhere without cameras. 

There was a huge Grand Opening sign hanging in front of the place. Everything was pink, white, and cutesy. The windows were tinted— as most stores and restaurants were in Gotham, you don’t want the wrong people peering in at the wrong time— and there were cute kitten paintings on the glass. Tam would probably like this.

Tim pulled out his phone with a sigh and started to scroll. It was ten minutes before Duke knocked on his passenger window. Tim looked up at him with a small smile and rolled down the window.

“Hey,” Duke started, “I think it’s not too early, they’ll probably let us in.” 

Tim nodded and rolled his window back up before climbing out. 

“Do you think I’ll get a cool expensive car when I turn 16?” Duke asked. “Yours is awesome. American luxury type shit.”

“It is American luxury, it’s Lincoln,” Tim shrugged. “And Bruce will buy you one if you want, honestly he’s been giving me vehicles like they’re candy for years.” He left out the fact that he embezzled a few of them. Bruce’s generosity was enough to let people believe what Tim said was true. 

“I bet he has,” Duke frowned. “I guess I don’t need something like that, I’d be fine with just a nice sports car or something.”

“What like a Jaguar? I can get you a Jaguar for your birthday. I could get it for you once you get your permit honestly.”

“Would you?” Duke beamed excitedly as he pushed open the door.

“Yeah, if you want. What are they, like 40/50k? The average, y’know, batmobile,” he whispered, “is like 100k, and we get like six of those a month.” 

“ Jesus. Me and Steph took one and crashed it a few months ago. But you, Bruce, and Damian have to stop talking about money like it’s water, it pisses people off. Not me, I’m used to it, but seriously.”

“I’m very aware of how much money I do and don’t have, my dad was bankrupt for like five years before he died.” Tim turned to the hostess behind her stand. “Reservation for noon? Should be under Wayne.”

The girl's mouth opened, closed, and opened again before she spoke. “Wayne. Yeah, yes. Wayne, right this way.”

She led Duke and Tim through a door to the actual cafe. Tim assumed it was so it was harder for cats to escape. Their booth was just as pink as the rest of the cafe. The whole place was well lit and there were cats everywhere. Tim counted about six, which meant there were probably six more hiding.

“How’d you get here?” He asked as they slid into the circular booth.

“Stopped at one of Jason’s places to change. I have to go back to work right after this.”

Tim frowned. “Was he there?”

Duke shook his head. “If he was, I didn’t see him. But I wasn’t there for long, just changed in the bathroom and left.”

A tuxedo cat jumped on the table and anything Tim could’ve asked died in his throat. Even he wasn’t impervious to adorable things like this, especially when the cat rolled onto its back and looked up at them with big eyes. Duke beat him to scratching the cat’s tummy and Tim looked at their collar.

“Bustopher Jones. Oh, God, are all of these named after Cats characters?”

“Babs is gonna love this,” Duke smiled his little mischief smile. Tim could imagine he smiled the same when he and Steph crashed a batmobile.

Tim scritched Bustopher Jones behind the ear. “It doesn’t even make sense, he’s not that fat. He can’t be Bustopher Jones just because he’s a tuxedo cat.”

“You lack imagination, Tim, this guy can have any name he wants. Can’t you, buddy, ” he cooed to the cat.

Bustopher Jones purred and closed his eyes. The bell above the door rang announcing another visitor. Damian speed walked in, obviously more excited than his face let on. He climbed onto the side of the booth until he was next to Tim. Dick walked in after him, holding the door open for Babs as she wheeled in.

“What’s his name?” Damian asked.

“Bustopher Jones,” Duke said.

“Awful,” Damian tsked. 

“I think there’s 12 cats,” Tim said. 

Dick slid in next to Damian and Babs parked herself at the head of the table. “Are we just waiting for Cass and Steph?”

Tim nodded.

“Babs, guess what?” Duke beamed. “Guess what his name is.”

“It’s Bustopher Jones,” Damian answered. “It was an awful thing to do to the poor cat.”

Duke clicked his tongue at him. “You suck.”

Babs made a squeak of delight. “ Aw , oh my goodness.” She reached over to scratch his lower belly. “ Bustopher Jones!”

“Richard, move, I’m going to see the other cats,” Damian said.

A waitress dropped off their menus and Cass and Steph came in together a few minutes later. Cass greeted Babs with a kiss on the cheek before going to the cat play area with Damian. Steph sat next to Duke and started taking pictures. At some point, Bustopher Jones left, and when he came back to the table, Damian was carrying a tabby.

“Her name is Jennyanydots,” he said sadly. “I would’ve come up with something better.”

Cass patted him on the back. “Not all of them are Cats characters.”

“Too many of them are.”

“Not enough,” Babs corrected.

Damian glared at her.

Tim leaned back in his seat. “I have to bring Tam here soon.”

“Tam?” Dick perked up. A wide smile spread across his face. “Timmy, do you have a girlfriend?”

“No, dick , I do not have a girlfriend,” he blushed. “I’m talking about Tam Fox.”

“I can hear the lowercase d. And you two were literally engaged. Forgive me for thinking there would be lingering feelings.”

Tim fought the urge to bring up Kory. “For like two weeks! And it was a fake engagement.” 

“You never took me to nice places when we were dating,” Steph pretended to wipe a tear away.

“We were 15 and my family was broke when we were dating. Ask Cass to take you somewhere nice.”

“You lived in a brownstone. And also,” Steph flipped him off, “she will.”

“I will,” Cass nodded.

Their waitress came back with her phone and a nervous expression. “Hey, sorry, my manager asked if I could take a picture of you guys? So we could put it on our social media.”

Dick nodded and smiled. “Of course! You guys don’t mind, right?” A round of ‘no’s and headshakes crossed the table.

“Thanks so much,” the waitress said as she raised her phone. She took a few pictures before tucking her phone away. “Now are you all ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?”

> Patrol Report - Wednesday, 10/28/20XX

> Written 03:22, Thursday. 10/29/20XX

> Report provided by: Red Robin

> Accessed by: 

>

> Patrol was started early today, interrupting dinner. That Batsignal was activated by Commissioner Gordon at 20:54. He reported yet another bomb at IT’SUGAR (3392 North Ave.). Same MO as the last ones. We’re almost finished with the padlock. Tonight was the body and latches.

> [riddle1.jpg]

> [riddle2.jpg]

> [riddle3.jpg]

> [riddle4.jpg]

> [bombriddle.jpg]

> We finished with the bomb at 21:45 and continued patrol as usual. I stopped two muggings, first in an alley on Green St. around 22:50, and second on 45th around 00:40.

>

> Personal Notes:

> Riddler’s gonna do something like the trick or treat route. Like I’m 50% sure at this point. The riddles are so easy, they have to be riddles within themselves because Eddie’s not that stupid. Considering he’s working with Scarecrow or at least has access to the newest strain of fear toxin for some reason, he’s probably going to gas it. I thought he was above gassing kids, but whatever, he’s insane I guess.

>

> Investigative Notes:

Tim sipped his Zetsi as he saved and closed his report. Usually, Dick would have something to say about Tim drinking caffeinated soda so late, but he was being quiet. When Tim pushed away from the computer he could see it was because the man was passed out on the couch. Falling asleep in the cave wasn’t too rare, most of the time, they got back very exhausted. There was a little hotel-type room tucked away by the showers for that reason. Tim wasn’t going to try and move Dick, so he just grabbed a blanket from the bed and put it over his brother.

Tim was halfway to the stairs when Bruce appeared at the top. Tim wished he could say he was too tired for this, but that was his third Zetsi. Bruce looked down at him, then glanced at Dick, then back to Tim. He was down the steps with his arms around Tim before Tim could process it. Tim’s eyes were just above Bruce’s shoulders as the man hunched over. His arms were tight around Tim, threatening to squeeze the air out of him. He hugged Bruce back, gently rubbing his back.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” He kept his voice soft so as not to wake Dick up.

“Nothing...” Bruce whispered. “I just… I need this.”

Tim’s stomach twisted. He needs this, he needs you. That’s what he was here for.

Tim hummed and kept rubbing Bruce’s back. “Well let’s go to your room, okay?” He said, looking back at Dick for a moment.

Bruce held his hand the whole way to his room. He let Tim guide him through the long, red hallways in silence. When they reached Bruce’s room, Tim guided the man to lie down in bed. He tucked Bruce in before sitting on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through Bruce’s hair, still warm and damp from his post-patrol shower.

“What’s wrong, chum?”

Bruce hesitated. He looked up at Tim with the most exhausted expression. “I don’t know. I just…” He reached up and wrapped a wide arm around Tim’s waist, pulling him closer. Tim took the message and quickly kicked off his shoes and swung his legs up on the bed. Bruce moved his head from his pillow to Tim’s lap. “We haven’t done this in a while. I need this.”

“Alright,” Tim said simply.

He didn’t know what Bruce meant by “a while.” Sure, they hadn’t done this in Bruce’s room for a bit, but he’d comforted Bruce like this, like more than just a passing hug, a week ago. Tim continued to pet Bruce’s hair as the man started to doze off.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep, okay?”

Bruce hummed and hugged Tim closer. Great. He’d be here all night. He’d be here all night. Tim could control his heartbeat well enough. He’d been through worse, and he’d done this before. He didn’t want to be here. He was needed here. His hand was steady in Bruce’s hair as he turned to look out the window. It was dark out, obviously. He couldn’t see the stars, just the polluted night sky. Tim sighed.

-

Tim ended up sleeping in Bruce’s room. His neck was a little sore from lolling to the side in his sleep, but that’s what happens when you fall asleep upright. His legs were a bit sore from being under 200 pounds all night, but he expected that. Bruce didn’t move a lot in his sleep, so Tim didn’t either. He shifted a little when he had to, but that was it. That left him with a cacophony of minor aches that’d disappear by noon. But it wasn’t noon yet. It was nine, and Tim was sitting at the breakfast table. 

It was veggie frittatas and home fries today. Tim poked tiredly at his slice of eggs. Everyone else got orange juice, but Tim was stuck with water because he couldn’t have anything acidic for two hours after taking his medication for his immune system. It was a weirdly quiet breakfast. Damian wasn’t on patrol last night, so he was just being normal quiet rather than tired quiet. Duke had a habit of never talking first when he first came to the manor. Tim thought he would’ve grown out of it by now. Bruce was usually quiet, so no surprise there. 

But alarmingly, and most surprisingly, Dick wasn’t making a peep. He hadn’t opened his mouth for any reason but to eat since he came in. It would freak Tim out if he wasn’t exhausted. He’d definitely go back to bed after this. Alfred was pouring Damian more orange juice when Dick finally found his voice again.

“Tim, have you started packing yet?”

The second Tim processed what he said, every nerve in his body shocked him awake. He straightened and stared at Dick, then his eyes dashed to Bruce. Bruce looked back, expression unreadably. Tim was going to kill Dick.

“Pack for what?” Bruce asked.

“Oh, me and Timmy are leaving for Bludhaven in a few days. He’s staying at my place,” Dick smiled as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

“It’s just a few days, B,” Tim said quickly. “There’s a photography event that he’s taking me to, then I’ll be back.”

“Hm,” was all Bruce offered. Tim was really going to kill Dick.

-

Tim was glad he didn’t have to go to the office today because Bruce was now his day project. While he did technically have work to do, it wasn’t anything serious. He could call Tam and have her make someone else do it. He would do that after this though.

“It’s just a few days, Bruce. Just four days, I’m not really going anywhere.” He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as he leaned on the batcomputer’s desk.

“You lied to me.”

“I was going to tell you.” Bruce’s glare at the screen deepened. “I was. I just- I couldn’t find the time.”

“You lied to me last week. You said you were just trying photography out again. You were doing that so you could leave.”

“That’s not fair, bud,” Tim said gravely. “I promised I’d never leave you, and I won’t. I’ll only be gone for four days.”

“Something will happen.”

“Something’s always happening; we’re in Gotham.”

“All the more reason for you to stay.”

Tim sucked in a breath. He could get annoyed all he wanted but he didn’t want to do this. “You won’t be alone. Literally everyone but me and Dick will be here.”

“ You won’t be here.” Bruce turned away from the computer to look at him. “I need you.”

Tim’s heart seized in his throat. Bruce looked pathetic. Not like he was going to cry but more like he was moments away from toppling over; the type of tired he got when he hadn’t hit REM sleep in ten days, which Tim knew he had because he watched Bruce sleep last night. 

“You’ll be okay.” Tim stepped closer. “What do I always tell you?”

Bruce leaned his head against Tim’s chest. “You’ll stay as long as I need you.”

Tim put both his hands on Bruce’s shoulders. “Exactly. I’m not leaving you.”

Bruce made a noise like he wanted to say more, but whatever it was died in his throat. He pulled Tim closer for just a few moments before pulling away. He turned back to the computer and stayed quiet.

“I have to call into work, okay? I’ll be back in a minute,” Tim said as he pushed himself up.

> Patrol Report - Thursday, 10/29/20XX

> Written 04:41, Friday. 10/30/20XX

> Report provided by: Red Robin

> Accessed by: 

>

> It’s been the same all week. Bomb called in by Gordon at 21:50 at 438 West Greek St. We finished the key, though, and we found a note inside one of the riddle boxes. It was coordinated to a storage unit by the east docks. The whole fucking place was filled with keys, I’m too tired to deal with this. One of them probably goes to the padlock, and luckily, I’m not sorting through them. Batman assigned that job to Nightwing.

> [riddle1.jpg]

> [riddle2.jpg]

> [riddle3.jpg]

> [riddle4.jpg]

> [coordinates.jpg]

> I mean, I’ll still have to go through some of the keys, but I really don’t want to. 

> Holiday and Calendar Man broke out of Arkham today. We have to find them by Saturday, and it should be easy, but oh my God, can anybody give us a break? 

> Robin spotted Killer Croc, but was unable to apprehend him. 

>

> Personal Notes:

> Fuck the Riddler.

>

> Investigative Notes:

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose as he pushes away from the batcomputer. He very much wanted to be asleep. They’d gotten most of the keys back to the cave in the batcomputer. Dick was still going through them but it’d take him all weekend to do alone. Tim would help him if he didn’t want to go to bed. He would help, obviously, but he could do that when he woke up tomorrow. He climbed the stairs sluggishly and didn’t bother taking off his shoes as he fell face-first into bed. It didn’t matter, he’d be up in two hours anyway.

Tim’s door opened and he propped himself up on his elbows to look over his shoulder. He did his best not to look exhausted when he sees it’s Bruce. He turns himself over and sits up.

“Hey, chum. What’s up?”

Bruce just shook his head and closed the door behind him. “I’ll miss you,” he said, sitting next to Tim.

“I know you will,” Tim said. “I’ll miss you too. But I’ll only be gone for a few days, Bruce.”

Apart from the occasional off-world mission Bruce had with the League, they were never apart for too long. Tim could understand how this being randomly sprung on Bruce was overwhelming. He didn’t really get it, but he could understand. It was his fault for putting this off for so long.

“Why did you lie to me?”

Tim blinked. “I didn’t want you to know yet,” he answered honestly. Being tired made him too honest; he needed to work on that. “I was going to tell you, but I told you, I couldn’t find the time.”

“Of course,” Bruce said lowly. “You’re going to leave me.”

“For four days. That’s not too long.”

Bruce looked down, then towards Tim. “It’ll only be four days?”

“I swear.”

Bruce nodded slowly. The silence was thick and Tim was drowning in it. Moments passed in silence and Tim needed Bruce to say something. Say something or do something. Stand up and leave the room or hug Tim so hard he exploded. But he did nothing. He just sat with his head down.

“I swear,” Tim repeated.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 < Last

[rofantasia]

Batfam x Apathetic!Reader Idea

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You get isekaid into a batfam x neglected! reader scenario but you could not care less about the batclan's bs. Your character was described to be a pushover, always wanting validation and approval from the other members of the batclan. But you— yes you could care less about that. You learned long ago to deal with the disappointment and lack of parental warmth. So once you began ignoring or bothering the others, they suddenly felt guilt and remorse for ignoring you. How sad, the person who longed to hear those words weren't you anymore.

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Anytime Bruce would try to praise you or be affectionate towards you? You raised your brow at him in befuddlement. "What the hell are you doing? That's kind of embarrassing man." It was strange seeing the emotionally stunted man try to engage in conversation with you? Doesn't the guy usually ignore you?

"I'm your father."

Okay? Alfred was also a deadbeat father but go figures. I guess he learned that somewhere.

You tend to ignore the bat so he can go away.

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" [ Reader ] ! Let's hang out at that restaurant you mentioned " Dick would say one time when you were chilling at the lounge. "What? When did I say that?" You guessed that your previous version before you took over said that a long time ago. That apathetic reaction caused Dick to compensate more now to apparently make up for the lost time you two could've spent. You felt nothing whenever he would drag you around with him.

He would try to be affectionate with you. Hugging you with his one arm, forcing you to spend time with him outside the manor. The entire time, you felt fascinated watching how guilt transformed people to what they're not. You don't really have any strong feelings toward the entire experience, but you guessed the free stuff was a bonus.

It was whatever.

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You generally avoid Jason Todd. Canon or Fanon, you do not want to be near that walking time bomb. "Why are you ignoring me all of a sudden? It's pissing me off." He would corner you one time when you were visiting the manor's library. "... You scare me honestly."

"....."

He looked at you with confusion. You guessed it'd be weird for that one sibling who's always asking you to hang out to suddenly be put off by you all of a sudden. You've learned second-hand information about the guy, alright? He is not the guy you'd want to associate with honestly. You think your previous self was brave for even trying to attempt to have a sibling bond with Jason now that you think about it.

"Yeah, bye."

No way, you are not dealing with that.

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"I don't get it, what have we done to deserve the silent treatment from you?" Even staying in your room wasn't safe. Tim would appear one day at your side to bother you with questions that your previous self should be asking.

".... Can't you see I'm trying to paint? Leave me alone, man."

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"Whatever you're doing, it won't work! You might've convinced the others about your poor ploy for attention but I know you—" Damian's word went from one ear to another. You don't know how to feel about the little guy. On one hand, he's a rude little kid. On the other, he's a traumatized child soldier so you don't really know how to deal with him...?

You just decided to ignore him like his dad. Yeah, that's.. probably for the better.

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Seriously why are they suddenly becoming more clingy towards you? You just want to experience being rich for once in your life, you don't care about their neglect or whatever. You've grown used to loneliness anyways.

[hanihazeljade]

The Wedding

It's the wedding y'all. I finally did it

Timothy can feel the joyous vibe that is going at the Wayne Manor. The ballroom was designed to the grand to accommodate everyone in this private wedding of Cass and Steph. There are a bunch of people in the caped community and Tim would rather not think about that.

He was having his makeup done, and Cass was already done with her makeup and hair and was now wearing her princess ball gown, sleeves are made of lace, the skirt is made of puffy tulle on top of silk, and the bodice is made of layers of silk, chiffon, and lace. The embroidery of purple butterflies has purple and yellow beadings, probably diamonds. 

“Bruce really went all out,” Tim thought as he closed his eyes so the makeup artist could apply a subtle eyeshadow on his eyelids. Tim is wearing the purple mandarin collar that he bought three weeks ago in Gotham. 

After a little while, he was finished getting his updo and tried to find Cass. Based on the statistics, no matter how much you love someone you will marry, you will still get cold feet or may be nervous. And Tim is right; he found Cass on one of the many hidden balconies of the manor.

“Hey.” he silently whispered as he carefully walked beside Cass.

Cass looked back and saw her favourite brother, “Hi, little brother.”

“You okay?” Tim asked, as he grabbed his sister’s hand and massaged it a little.

Cass tried to smile, “Just nervous.” she whispered.

“Well, it is a big commitment, and I think both of you deserve it.”

“I think Steph deserves better. Not a broken machine—”

“EYY! Stop with this negativity! SHOO!” Tim said as he flung his arms as if shooing the bad thoughts away from Cass, and it cracked a smile from Cass, so small victories.

“Thank you, little brother.”

“I am your man of honour; I have your back, always.” Tim nudged his shoulder at Cassandra's.

Tim and Cass spent a good half an hour talking Cass out of her insecurities, so they went back to where all the bridesmaids are, such as Barbara Gordon, Zatanna Zatara, Kara Danvers, Cassie Sandsmark, Cissie Jones, Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, and Rachel Roth, though Cassie, Artemis, and Kara are wearing purple tuxedos, as they preferred it.

Tim was the only one wearing the purple mandarin collar suit, and good. He should have some spotlight on him. As he was the man of honour for Cass and Tim already had talked to himself that he will be civil, especially in his speech. (No, he won’t.)

They were already finishing touches of Cass’s makeup when there was a knock on the door and it was Bruce, telling them that they only had 10 minutes before Cass needed to go down. Tim lowered the white veil of Cass and it triggered something in Timothy but he held it in as Steph was all ready to be walked to the altar by her mother and Cass was supposed to be walking with Bruce and Tim but Tim declined as he can see this is a very special moment for Bruce. Walking his only daughter to the hands of a trusted person of the family.

Timothy will be walking to the aisle with Harper, Stephanie’s maid of honour. And then the bridesmaid and the bridesman are walking with their respective partners, like an ordinary wedding. 

Timothy has always loved the concept of a wedding, but he knows that he is not stable enough to actually do it himself.  He cannot see himself spending the rest of his life with someone beside him; the idea of spending the last breaths with your loved one was too surreal to be true. Not after everything.

The wedding starts as most of both of the family members are part of the bridal party. The flower boys and ring bearer were followed by Stephanie and her mother, next was the paired-up wedding party with Tim and Harper at the end of that party and last but not least was Cassandra Wu-San-Wayne with Bruce Wayne, both with huge smiles on their faces and Tim looked over and hoped that Sandra was here to see that beautiful smile that she protected. 

Jason being the ceremony announcer, and Diana Prince being the officiant of the wedding and the wedding march finally start. The wedding started by the flower girls and the ring bearers, and the bridal party walked through, with Tim partnered with Harper as Stephanie’s maid of honour.

And Stephanie walked with her mother in her arms. Stephanie was wearing a beautiful simple lace and tulle white wedding gown. The bodice has a corseted bodice filled with flower lace that probably was specifically commissioned from France. And the skirt was silk-lined with tulle. Her blonde hair was pinned up in an elegant bun with a veil that covered her face.

Up next was Cassandra, in her gown with the purple veil that covered her face and the gown that has a cathedral train. Tim saw her beautiful sister happy, even with the veil that covered her face, he could see that she was smiling behind it.

And the ceremony begins. 

Hand in hand, Stephanie and Cassandra exchanged their rings, vows and loving gazes.

Stephanie was the first one to say her vow to Cassandra, with a smile that can rival the sun.

“Cassandra, the love of my life, I appreciate you embracing my lovely, chaotic, and vibrant way of living just like I do. I vow to support you in pursuing your dreams. I assure you that I will keep encouraging you to become the greatest version of yourself. I promise you I'll make you smile when you're overthinking things. I vow to cherish you without conditions. I vow to prioritize you and always maintain our connection. I promise you that I will always continue to sing my silly songs, even though I realize you hope I won't. Our path as a family has only recently started, and I eagerly anticipate what lies ahead for us. Cassie, my love, you are the one I select to share eternity with, my genuine soulmate. I choose you today, and I will keep choosing you for eternity. I cherish you forever.” and as she finished her vows, Stephanie was trembling, clearly trying to stop herself from crying.

Cassandra’s vows were written on a sheet of paper, after all, she was not going to say her vows in broken English, it took so many nights of trying to find any grammatical errors but it was now done. 

“Stephanie, before I met you, I never genuinely believed in "the one true love", I realize now that what we share goes beyond and forms a much deeper connection of souls. In you, I discovered a life companion, a beloved, a friend, a refuge, and a person with whom I can show my truest, most vulnerable self. In you, I discovered a person who uplifts me, who motivates me, who values and esteems me. I appreciate you for always accepting me as I am and for gazing at me with affection, even when it’s clear that I’m being... excessive. Thank you for accepting all the aspects that contribute to my identity. Above all, I appreciate your dedication in the family; I could not have chosen a better role model for our future children. It was never only me; it was always the family and I. I appreciate your willingness to face the challenges of our career, for caring for my brothers and supporting me in their upbringing. I appreciate you sharing the experience of a friend with me and will be my wife for the rest of our life. You are an incredible lover, and I couldn’t be more thankful.” 

Cassandra ends her beautiful vows with Stephanie crying her eyes out and her makeup has a trail of tears, but it doesn’t matter. Cassandra just said a concrete promise and Stephanie is allowed to be loved fully, without getting used and hurt. 

And after the vow exchange, the two brides kissed with so much love and nobody can exceed the love that was shared that day.

[been-abducted07]

Bobby Nash the man you are...

Saving chim when he knew what was coming for him is such a Bobby move, and if they were gonna kill him ( which is don't agree was a smart move), then him dying saving chim was the best way to do it. But making buck be the one who was there for it was the cherry on top. I cried for so long, because Bobby lost his second chance, but so did Athena, so did buck. Buck lost his new chance and finally having a family who loved him, a father who wanted him for who he was and not a mistake he was blamed for. Athena lost her second husband to his heroics. Both her husband's died to protect other people. God and hen, hen not being there for Bobby and Athena after all they have done for her. And chim... Tim when I catch you... if they go with the alcoholic storyline for chim I need a scene where its getting really bad in season 9, especially now that hes captain, every bad call ends at the bottom of a bottle. Maddie is getting really concerned but hes not listening to anyone who wants to help him so who does Maddie call? Athena. I need them to reconcile and for her to save him from addiction by saying: my husband did not die in that lab for you to drink away your life howard." BOOM Athena and chim hug, chim gets help ( bonus if he goes to Bobby's old AA meeting). Now season 9 buddie needs to be a messy, angry thing too. After Bobby dies everyone is in therapy. Eddie starts to realize his feelings for buck, but buck and Tommy are starting to see each other again and eddie gets pissed. Real angry and mean to buck, starts throwing things in his face again about how selfish he is. Buck cannot for the life of him understand why Eddie is so mad and hes already struggling because who can he tell ( hc that he gets real closed off post Bobby death) and then a huge fight ensues and im this argument buck says he doesn't understand, and then Eddie just like a floodgates, let's everything explode out. Buddie does not begin here. They take a few days, figure there own feelings out ,apologize, and then we finally have a buddie kiss and THEN buddie cannon. But the buddie story has to take up half the season, then they get together and of course either a life threatening situation where one of them gets hurt, or Chris is in danger and we get to see them in a similar position to hen when denny gets hit by that car. What do we think guys, should I get in the season 9 writing room?

[kookie-doughs]

im too lazy to write this as an actual fic so ill just put the draft up hehe

slightly nsfw

You are late for the Titans meeting and upon your arrival you saw everyone chatting or at least trying to coax your dear leader Dick into answering something

Beastboy: wait hear me out Damian

Cyborg: ooh yeah wait i hear you. i was gonna answer Tim

Starfire: what about Jason?

Beastboy: definitely not

Cyborg: he does not give off the energy

Raven: i vote Tim

the team finally notices your arrival

Robin: YN finally. drop the topic were starting the meeting.

beastboy pouts and but does follow with it

while robin was discussing cyborg taps your arm subtly not to get suspicions

Cyborg: hey YN youve spent most time with the batfam maybe youll get it

You: get what?

the meeting quiets down and robin pinches the bridge of his nose realizing the topic would not be dropped.

Beastboy: which Robin do you think gives off the biggest dick energy?

you look at them confused and bewildered and at robin who looked tired of their shit

you definitely did not want to think of their dicks

You: what the fuck is this topic????? i do not want to think of this?????

you had the most disgusted face.

why the fuck was Damian winning????????

wait

You: wait was that what you were discussing when i arrived?

Robin who is so done with their shit: its also what theyve been discussing since i came. i do not want to answer.

Raven: you dont need to im all in for Tim

Cyborg: me too he was my first choice

Starfire: I vote for Damian

Beastboy: yeah its totally Damian

You: what the fuck why is no one answering Jason???? Have you guys not seen Jason?????? you can not tell me hes not the biggest. LIKE YOURE COMPARING HIM TO TIM??? DAMIAN????

the team (except robin) looks at you confused.

Cyborg whispering: maybe hes different when hes with her

Starfire: hes too angry and mean

Raven: Yeah like Damian so that means you two are wrong Tim wins

what does being angry and mean have to do with their size...? being angry and mean does insinuate another thing regarding his dick tho... not that youre thinking of it

definitely not...

You snicker whispering to him: Dick how does it feel not being an option in this argument?

Robin looking at you confused: what?

when the arguement got bigger between the four and Robin gets their attention

Robin: if i answer this stupid question will you all shut up and get back to the meeting?

they all sat looking at him expectantly

Robin face palms: its Stephanie the fourth one.

You: the girl???? what????

Starfire: I had forgotten about her being Robin

Beastboy: ohh yeahhh her!

the team starts agreeing and you look at everyone confused.

she definitely and obviously can not be the answer

what the fuck?

Robin turning back to you whispering while the team was listing the reasons why they agree: why would i be in the equation if i was the basis????

OOOOOHHHHHHH

why the fuck did beastboy word it like that?!?!?!?

your face was flushed and you look at robin guiltily.

robins eyes widens when he sees your red face and how you cant look at him in the eye.

Robin: YOU WERE THINKING OF THEI--

you clamp his mouth and glared.

You: i will kill you if this gets out

Robin: please get the thought of our... (clears his throat) out of your mind...

the thought returns to your mind and you push him away disgusted.

You, petty: youre definitely last place

Robin: ill let jason know im last place.

You: im killing you

BONUS

Dick back at the cave looking at his brothers with disgust remembering you.

Jason noticing: what the hell are you looking at like that

Tim and Damian looking at him noticing the look on his face

Dick who glares at Jason and flicks his eyes to his crotch for a second and frowns and clicks his tongue: im at least second place

he huffs and walks away thinking whether or not he should prove it to you

[ghcjhvk]

jason todd's mommy issues

like this is canon asf

starting with sheila haywood, obviously she betrayed him, sold him out to the joker, yadda yadda. we get that already. but i kinda feel like im the only one who doesnt think shes like an absolute villain and im going crazy reading fics. just gonna drop the fact here that she switches up HARD when jason reveals he's robin.

so im not saying jason was justified in the titans tower incident but you can maybe see where hes coming from when he beats up tim. the moment you put on the mantle to fight criminals, you aren't just another kid. you have a duty, and you have the power to carry out that duty.

and sheila's really shocked when the joker starts hitting jason. so like she probably hasnt thought about what happens when you cant separate the person from the idea. because when you're a hero you're meant to be infallible. you're supposed to win and come out on top of whatever situation you're put in.

"she just stood by and smoked a cigarette" like yes and no. i feel like you can clearly see shes distraught here but shes like compartmentalizing bc she doesnt want to lose her career. shes also lowkey been doing some good work on the ground. not saying this justifies inaction but u have to take into account shes not an ss agent or a trained assassin (shiva and jason todd mom candidate #1 core) so like whats she gonna do lmao. tell the joker to stop?? shes gothamite. she knows that aint gonna do shit. i dont think shes smoking for the funny either i think shes stressed rn. speculating, but it makes sense to me.

like would it be so crazy if i said she did some fucked up shit but shes not the villain some people make her into.

like shes aware shes done shit things. idk im just trying to say i feel like some people lowkey villainize her more than the joker?? as in, yes they advocate for the jokers death, but mainly because jason does and thats his whole mission in utrh, while sheila is like getting trashed and spit on.

its messy from jasons perspective because she did betray him and like he wasnt too conscious for the later parts but like i dont even think he'd hate her that bad. bc again, the joker is the villain of this and sheilas another casualty. insert something about how bruce was a kid and couldnt stop his parents getting killed, now hes an adult and still cant stop his kid getting killed with how jasons both a kid and capable but he cant stop the joker idfk.

does this make sense?? im trying to pin together a coherent thought for the first time.

[ghost-bxrd]

You guys ever think about an AU where Jason goes to hound Tim through Titans Tower, and, mid pursuit—while Tim is screaming at him about the second Robin being his hero, tryin to crawl away in a trail of blood—realizes he’s become an even worse version of his own mother, who sold him out to the Joker?

Because I do.

[brucedefender4eva]

After the fourth night in a row where one of his kids directly disobeys his orders and gets hurt even more

Bruce is just done

Burnt out, drained, weary; whatever the fuck you want to call it at this point

He’s been working on himself a lot lately. And at this point in all his relationships, he understands that taking away their alter-ego and benching them will only backfire on him.

So he doesn’t do anything

He mentally throws his hands up in defeat and just… does whatever they wants to diffuse the situation

Dick is expecting another yelling match to commence the moment they get back to the cave. In fact, he went out tonight deliberately trying to get to this moment. He brought cough drops for the aftermath to soothe his throat from all the yelling. He knows it isn’t healthy, but he just needs to let out some steam

Instead of their usual routine, Bruce gets out of the Batmobile and doesn’t even look at Dick. You can’t say his posture is… relaxed… but it isn’t wound up tightly like it usually is when one of his children gets hurt

Bruce goes over to the Batcomputer and starts typing down what happened on patrol that night while Dick does his best not to put any pressure on his possibly broken leg

After a few minutes of silence, Bruce sighs and turns back to Duck with a raised eyebrow, his face passively blank

“What?”

Dick shifts and winces as his entire leg throbs painfully. “A-aren’t you gonna call Alfred?” Dick responded back petulantly, keeping his voice low in hopes Bruce wouldn’t hear him then get annoyed and finally show some emotion

“Your arm isn’t broken, is it? Use it.” Bruce said simply before turning back around and continuing to type.

Dick felt anger bubble up in his chest, but it felt stupid to try and start a fight when Bruce obviously wouldn’t engage.

Dick storms off in a huff, at least he tries. He makes it a few steps before deciding to sit down and call Alfred.

“Love you,” Bruce calls back to him without turning around, causing Dick to stick up both of his middle fingers in retaliation.

Or with Jason, he’ll pick his battles and accept whatever happens afterwards

Jason’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Extremely reminiscent of when he first came to the Manor

He had shot someone on patrol. Could he have used his rubber bullets instead of his real ones? Yes. Did he lie to Bruce and say that he didn’t have real bullets in him? Also yes

But fuck Bruce and all the rules he has

Now it was completely silent as they rode home in the Batmobile.

Jason checked over his gun for the fourth time before carefully tucking it back in her holster.

“You’re seriously not gonna say anything, old man?” Jason griped. Usually, this would be the catalyst for a large-scale argument, but there was nothing. Not even an eye roll for Jason's old man comment.

“What’s the point? Not like you’ll listen anyway.” Bruce shrugged, ignoring Jason's angry scoff as he stopped the Batmobile. “Here, your safe house.”

Jason blinked at Bruce, looking at him incredulously. “Are you fucking serious? You’re dropping me off at my safe house? Not gonna allow me in the cave anymore?” Jason snarled, not even thinking to question how Bruce knew where his super secret safe house was.

“You said, and I quote, ‘never wanna set foot in this fuck ass cave another day of my undead life’.” Bruce raised an eyebrow, at least it sounded like he did. Hard to tell with the cowl.

“Fuck you!” Jason decidedly does not pout as he gets out of the car and starts storming up to his door.

Bruce rolls down the windows and shouts out a quick ‘love you’ before speeding off into the night.

He won't enable it, but he's not gonna go out of his way to stop them if he's tried once before

Tim’s sitting down at the Batcomputer, mulling over a case that Bruce said to drop several times or at least put a pause in it, cause it's taking its toll on the young detective

When Bruce walks downstairs, Tim’s expecting a confrontation since Bruce had told him to go to sleep at least four times already

But nope

When Bruce noticed Tim looking at him, he simply gave him a greeting grunt before shuffling through his own stack of papers

“I know you said to go to bed, but I’m almost done! I swear!” Tim pressed his back firmly against the swivel chair, waiting…

“Mhmm…” Bruce hummed, barely listening. “Sleep, don’t sleep. Whatever.” Bruce takes another sip of his tea before placing it beside Tim, grabbing a folder full of paper, and pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead. “Have fun, love you.”

Damian’s angry at him for something perfectly normal to be angry about, whether it’s regular teen stuff or vigilante stuff? Agree with him

While he’s threatening to stay a week at Dick’s place or even the Kent farm, Bruce is packing a bag for him

He nods and hums along absentmindedly as Damian rants that he can’t stand being in the Manor. Nothing he hasn’t heard a million times before from his children and other non-children

“What are you doing?” Damian questioned, finally stopping his rant to actually pay attention to what his father’s doing

“You said you needed a break from me, right?” Bruce grinned, actually okay with the house being quiet for a few days. “You’ve been dying to hang out with Jon more, go on.”

Jon, who was listening in just like his father always is, was already floating outside with the biggest and brightest smile on his face

“Have fun, kiddos. Love you!” Bruce called out, ignoring Damian’s sputtering as he shut the manor door behind him

——

Explanation for this post

<Next>

[arcade-confetti]

Being someone who read Under The Red Hood and came out with the firm belief that, for Jason, it's not about killing Joker, it's about Jason wanting proof Batman would choose him over the Joker (bc shelia chose the joker). Makes seeing any other media where it's all about just wanting the Joker dead is a teeny bit frustrating. to be honest

Jason could've killed the Joker himself, really, really easily. Jason kidnaps the Joker before the confrontation. I can't open my comic for a reference right now, but it felt like he had the Joker for quite a bit before the confrontation. He had him. He beat him up with a crowbar. He had every single opportunity to kill the Joker himself, but he didn't because that wasn't his goal. Make no mistake, he did plan for the Joker to be dead by the end of it, but do you see what im trying to say here

Edit: If I knew this post was gonna get 1000+ notes I would've tried to word it better or something, this was a rant I made on the way to the grocery store 😭

It's not about making Batman kill either. When Batman says he won't kill, Jason adjusts and goes, 'Let ME kill the Joker or kill me to stop me' instead. The test is all about Batman choosing him. The whole final confrontation is Jason's first death again. The parent, The Joker, and the explosives. It even ends with Jason unable to move as a bomb goes off right next to him again because the parent didn't choose Jason. And instead tried finding an option that'd benefit them and (consequencely) letting the Joker walk, again, lol, lmao <-in agony