#alfred is the best though

[wolfjackle-creates]

Something Next to Normal

Tim's having a regular day at school when a classmate ropes him into helping with the school play as the light technician. Tim agrees to one rehearsal, but his responsibilities as Robin keep him so busy. He knows he'll have to turn down the position. Then he learns what Next to Normal is about. Tim absolutely cannot do this. --- Alfred is proud of Tim for taking on an extracurricular. The boy spends so much time alone. Having an excuse to spend time with other students his age can only be good for him. He wants to go see the show, but Tim counsels against it. After looking it up, Alfred spends a night in sleepless grief. But when day comes and he's face-to-face with Tim, he realizes the living boy in front of him needs him and something has to change.

This fic is inspired by a conversation I had with @yaderyngoch that you can find here.

Next to Normal is a super emotional musical that deals with surviving after grief. And the themes fit so well with Tim's early tenure as Robin that once the connection had been made, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Within hours, I was asking yaderyngoch if they minded if I started writing. A month later, this is what came of it.

Thanks to @greensword101 and @flipwizardstarlight for helping beta!

I plan to release chapter two in about a week.

Chapter 1 word count: 5,969

Content Warning: Bruce doesn't take a parental role towards Tim. And, at this point, he's not being a very good mentor either. He's too caught up in his own grief. The comfort will come up in chapter two.

-----

“Tim, Tim! There you are!”

Tim turned to see Alex, a senior in the journalism and drama clubs, waving a hand above his head and running towards him down the school hallway. “Hey, Alex. What’s wrong?”

Alex stopped right in front of him and bent over panting. He held one finger up, silently asking Tim to wait a moment. Finally, still somewhat breathless, he said, “We found out last night that my dad got a major promotion at work.”

“That’s awesome, congrats!” said Tim.

But Alex shook his head. “They want him to start immediately. Job’s out in California so we’ll have to move.”

Tim grimaced in sympathy. “Dude, that sucks. When will you be moving?”

“End of the week. But look, we need your help.”

Tim cocked his head. He wasn't really that close to Alex, though they were friendly. “How can I help? I assume your dad’s company will be providing movers and stuff.”

Alex waved him off. “Not like that. I mean with the musical! Performances are happening in a month and I’m in charge of lighting. You’re literally the only person in the whole school who I think could learn everything in time.”

Tim bit his lip. He was already falling behind on his homework due to his Robin responsibilities. “I don’t know, I’m really busy right now…”

“Please, Tim,” begged Alex. “Just come to today’s rehearsal. It’s right after class. Give it a shot, and if you hate it, I’ll figure something else out. But please, one rehearsal.”

Tim hesitated a moment longer, but the pleading in Alex’s eyes got to him. He never could help being useful. “Okay, one rehearsal.”

---

The moment Tim entered the auditorium, Alex waved to him. “Tim! You made it, awesome. Come on, let me introduce you to Mrs. V.”

Before Tim could do more than say, “Hi,” back, Alex grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the front of the auditorium.

“Mrs. V! This is Tim.”

Tim smiled up at the woman and held out his hand just as his mother had taught him. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Ma’am.”

She looked to be in her late thirties and had bushy black hair and dark eyes. She cocked her head at him, but shook his hand. “You look awfully young to be in high school, Tim. Will your parents mind you staying late?”

“I skipped a grade,” said Tim, brushing past the question like he always did. Starting high school at barely thirteen was unusual enough, and he was small for his age. “And I’ll be talking it over with them tonight to see if I can make it work.” An utter lie, of course. Tim’s parents wouldn’t be home for a few weeks yet. But they made a good excuse. “I’ll be able to let you know tomorrow for sure.”

“And, Alex, you really think he’ll be able to learn everything?”

Alex was nodding before she’d even finished speaking. “Yep. He might be a freshman, and a young one at that, but he’s brilliant. He was in the journalism club in middle school, right?” Alex waited for Mrs. V to nod before continuing. “So their teacher brought them to the high school to get a look at our recording studio here. Tim figured out the equipment in, like, ten minutes. To the point where he was correcting Dave last year’s president of the high school club. We’ve integrated nearly all of his suggestions into our broadcasts this year.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked at Tim with much more interest. “Then I hope your parents let you join us,” she said.

Tim didn’t let his expression slip and wondered what his parents would say if he ever bothered to ask their permission. Oh, who was he kidding? They wouldn’t care so long as it didn’t interfere with his school image.

“As I’m sure you’ve heard, I’m Mrs. Vasilakis, but most students just call me Mrs. V. Today we’ll be doing a run through of the show from top to bottom with scripts in hand so Alex can show you what he does and you can get used to the show. We’re doing Next to Normal, are you familiar with it?”

Tim shook his head. “I don’t know many musicals, I’m sorry.”

She waved him off. “Well, I hope we can get you interested. Alex, I can give you twenty minutes to show him the controls while I corral this group and get them warmed up.”

“Thanks, Mrs. V! Come on, Tim. You can toss your backpack down on any empty seat.”

Tim did as instructed and followed Alex to the back of the auditorium.

Alex led him to a small door with a “Do Not Enter” sign hung on it. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door. “Mrs. V lets me keep the key, though she might want you to get it from her every time. I guess they had issues a few years back with people sneaking up here. Something was stolen or broken or something and since then admin refuses to allow students open access.”

Tim nodded his understanding, but a glance at the lock proved it was as cheap as they came. He didn’t know how it worked to actually keep anyone out.

The door led to a narrow stairway and at the top was a room just large enough for the lights, their controls, and two chairs. Alex sat in one and gestured Tim to the other.

“Home, sweet, home,” said Alex grinning. “So, you ever seen any of this stuff before?”

“Some of it,” admitted Tim. Enough of the Gotham rogues had a flare for the dramatics that he’d seen some weird light shows, even if he hadn’t been on the job that long yet. “But I’ve never been in charge of it.”

“Still better than I could say when I started. We’ve tried to keep things labeled pretty clearly so that helps. These dials are the over head lights, these are over stage lights, spotlights. The set up here is pretty good for a high school, but we’re still limited in what we can do. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a professionally performed play or musical, but don’t worry. We won’t be doing anything nearly so fancy.”

“I haven’t, actually,” commented Tim. He thought he had it all figured out, but it would be good to see everything in action. “I think my mom likes plays, but I’ve never gone with her. I think she is afraid I’d struggle sitting quietly for that long.”

“Would you?”

Tim laughed. “Probably a year or two ago. I’d be good now. But back on topic, what’s most important?”

“Right, yeah. Of course that’s what you want to know. Basically make sure anyone who is speaking has a light on them. And that anyone who is on stage can be seen, even if they’re in shadow. This show isn’t the worst, but there are a few moments where multiple characters are singing in contrast to each other. And if we can show the space between them while still lighting them, it’d be great.”

“I… what?” Tim had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

Alex grimaced. “I suppose that doesn’t make sense—“

A loud piercing whistle sounded from below them.

“Well, you’ll see when we get into it. Just watch what I do, yeah?”

Tim shrugged again. “Sure. I’m good at learning on my feet.”

Alex grinned. “It’s why I’m begging you to do this!” He watched the stage a minute and nodded to himself. “Okay, we’re gonna lower all the lights. You always start in dark. This is how we do that.”

Tim watched intently, taking even more notes, as Alex deftly adjusted dials until everything sat in darkness.

Then Alex turned on a spotlight, showing a boy a girl—playing a mother and son—arguing before the boy stormed out of the house. Then the girl started singing about her family. When she reached the line about her daughter, “And my daughter though a genius is a freak,” another spotlight turned on and Tim watched as Alex pointed it at a different girl sitting at a table with a textbook and papers spread in front of her.

He cringed when he heard the mom character say, “I’m going to have sex with your father,” and decided he didn’t really care about the story. Instead he focused on following Alex’s actions. The daughter took over the song, so Alex turned off the light on the mother.

Soon enough, four actors were on stage, trading off lines as they sung about it being “just another day.” And Tim understood what Alex was doing. Each had a spotlight on them, but the shadows were deep between the characters because they didn’t seem to like each other very much, even if they were a family.

Soon it was hard to even follow the words with everyone singing together. Tim really didn’t think he was going to like the show. He had his own struggles with his family and with Bruce. He didn’t really want to watch a fictional family’s struggles.

Whatever, he didn’t have to enjoy himself today.

So he tuned it out. He focused on how Alex played with the lights to make sure everything could be seen. He watched the difference between solos and ensemble moments. When spotlights were used versus lighting the whole stage.

Despite Tim’s best attempts, he couldn’t help but learn about the family. The daughter, Natalie, was the character he liked the most. The son, Gabe, was just an asshole. The dad, Dan, was trying to hold everything together and failing miserably. And the mom, Diana, was falling apart as badly as Bruce and they couldn’t seem to find a good treatment for her.

But all of that was just background to the lighting techniques he was learning. Then when Diana came out with a birthday cake for Gabe, Dan had to take her to the side and remind her that “he’s been dead, sixteen years,” and Tim stopped breathing.

”He’s not here.” echoed in Tim’s ears.

His blood ran cold, and he stared at the stage is shock. The reveal had been a complete surprise, but suddenly so much about the show made sense. And yet all Tim could think of was Bruce, still clinging to the memory of Jason, putting himself—and all of Gotham—at risk in the process.

“You all right?” whispered Alex.

“Huh?” Tim shook his head to reorient himself. His heart was beating too fast. Why was he reacting so strongly? But all he could hear were the words, “He’s not here,” repeating in his mind. Tim forced a smile just as his mother had taught him, though. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Just didn’t expect that.”

Alex laughed even as the music turned more upbeat, the tone jarring compared to the one before. He turned the lights up to match the new tone. “One of the best twists in a musical in my opinion. Forgot you wouldn’t know to expect it.”

Tim just hummed as Diana took center stage again. Her words, “Do you know what it’s like to die alive,” made him cross his arms and clench his fists around his shirt. Why was it that despite the actors in front of him, all he could see was Bruce throwing himself into fight after fight?

But Diana was worse than Bruce. She still had a daughter. One who was still a kid and relied on her. Didn’t she care? He forced himself to tune out her words and returned to taking notes on what Alex did.

He managed well enough until Natalie’s next song came on. Her first three lines went by, worming their way into his head until, “She’s not there,” made him stop.

All he could do was stare at the stage as the girl sang. Each line seemed to hit harder than the last.

“He’s immortal, forever alive. Then there’s me.”

The actress filled every line with a resigned desperation for something, anything, to be different. Tim’s breath froze in his chest. Was his heart still beating? He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, but somehow the words from the stage broke through even that.

“He’s your hero, forever your son. He’s not here. I am here.”

His eyes burned, and he bit his cheek to give himself something else to focus on.

Then Diana tried to comfort Natalie. “You know I love you. I love you as much as I can.”

Tim clenched his fists hard to hide their shaking even as Natalie threw her arms up in frustration on the stage. Why was he reacting so strongly? He wasn’t the same as Natalie. Bruce wasn’t his dad so it didn’t matter if Bruce couldn’t even look at him half the time. He had parents. They might not be home right now, but they loved him. They did.

He wasn’t Natalie.

“Please look closely and find her before she fades away!”

Tim barely heard the rest of the song. Was he breathing? He needed to breathe. He let out a shaky breath.

“Tim? You sure you’re good?”

He needed to focus. His mom would be so disappointed in him. He smiled, just like he’d learned to do for the galas he’d been forced to attend from the age of five. “Of course, Alex. Sorry. I just didn’t realize how good a singer Rose is.”

Alex grinned. “Yeah. She’s really good. Got the role of Natalie as a junior if you can believe it.” He paused speaking to adjust more lights. “Are you following what I’m doing?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Compartmentalize. Tim could do this. He’d been doing it for years. And he’d only gotten better at it since becoming Robin.

The next song, sung by Gabe again, made his heartbeat ratchet back up. Tim hated Gabe for reasons he couldn’t articulate even to himself. But hearing the ghost of the dead son sing about how he was alive as he danced around his mom, crowding her, had Tim biting his cheek so hard he tasted blood. He stopped, closed his eyes for two seconds, and focused again on what Alex was doing. On the way the lights followed Gabe as he haunted, taunted, the rest of his family in turn.

He’d get through this. He’d promised one rehearsal and that’s what he’d get through. Tomorrow he’d say he couldn’t do it.

Even as all the characters begged, “Catch me I’m falling,” Tim focused on just learning his job. When Dan and Diana blew off Natalie’s recital, he clenched his fist, but kept his breathing steady.

Alex didn’t ask if he was okay, just kept up a quiet stream of instructions.

Diana’s failed suicide, done at the behest of Gabe’s ghost, reminded him of all his nightmares of being too late and finding Bruce’s body broken and bloody one day when trying to follow him on patrol. The nightmares that always made him wake screaming.

Tim forced himself not to think of Alfred when Dan sang about standing with his “feet right on the ground” whenever Diana went off flying. He ignored the way Dan wished for someone to give him a lift. And if Tim’s breath caught when Dan sang his was “just a slower suicide,” it didn’t matter because Alex didn’t notice. He just focused on how Alex softened the lights to make the scene more melancholy.

Finally, after Diana agreed to ECT at Dan’s pleading, Alex turned the lights all the way down, then all the way back up.

“And this is the end of act one! What do you think so far?”

Tim swallowed and shrugged. “I didn’t realize they made musicals like this. Are they common?”

“This one was pretty groundbreaking when it came out. More recently, we’ve got Be More Chill and Dear Evan Hansen. But I’ll tell you a secret, I like this one way more.”

Tim hummed and looked over the lighting equipment. “It’s definitely intense. They’re doing a good job.”

“Yep. So for the real show, intermission will last about twenty minutes. Three minutes before curtain, you’ll want to dim the lights briefly to warn people to get back to their seats. Right now, Mrs. V is going to talk to the actors and give some pointers for a few minutes. Give everyone a chance to catch their breaths. Need the bathroom?”

Tim shook his head.

“Then what questions do you have for me?”

Over the next few minutes, Tim made sure to ask any question he could think of. By the time Mrs. V let out another whistle to call everyone to their places, Tim was pretty sure he could manage lighting for the rest of the show. Though when Alex took up the position, Tim didn’t fight him.

No reason to seem too eager when he wouldn’t be taking the project on.

The next act started and Tim tried to pay minimal attention to the musical. Though when the characters realized Diana had amnesia from the treatment and Dan decided the proper response was to just not mention their son, he couldn’t hold back a snort.

Amusement that died in his throat when Natalie revealed what life had actually been like for her. At least he couldn’t draw any parallels there. Neither his parents nor Bruce had been present enough in his childhood to screw his up the way Diana had screwed over Natalie’s.

When Diana finally remembered her son, Tim expected the breakdown.

He couldn’t help but feel for Natalie as she left the house again to get into trouble. Memories of nights spent in Gotham when he was way too young threatened to overtake him.

He managed to push through it and get himself back under control by focusing on Alex’s actions. He paid vague attention to the musical, too invested in the story to fully ignore it. But he directed most of his focus to Alex. So many of the songs started with one character before changing to another, so he’d have to learn them well enough to know when to switch the lights as each person took over.

Diana’s therapist begged her to stay a patient, to not give in to her depression. But it was clear she’d had enough. Would Bruce give up one day? Decide to stop fighting and let himself die?

Only…it turned out Diana wasn’t fully giving up on life. She apologized to Natalie who was clearly caught between finding it too little, too late and hope that this time might be real.

He couldn’t help the ache he felt when Natalie and Diana agreed that a life “next to normal” would work just fine for them.

Tim knew what it was like to strive for a normal life. One where his parents were home. One where he was told “good job” when he did well on a school assignment or finally figured out how to do that flip.

Maybe it was time to give up that dream, though. Be like Natalie and settle for something else. The thought made his eyes burn, but he pushed it aside.

Surely Diana didn’t have to leave just for everyone to find a way to heal? Wasn’t there a way for them to figure it out together?

But Diana left and everyone, even Gabe, seemed to find a measure of peace.

Then Alex turned the lights down again until the entire auditorium was in darkness once more.

Mrs. V began clapping and called out “Well done, everyone!”

Alex turned all the lights back on and leaned back in his chair as Mrs. V addressed the actors.

“So, any more questions for me?” asked Alex.

---

“How was your extracurricular, Master Tim?” asked Alfred when Tim slipped into the passenger seat.

Tim shrugged and pretended he wasn’t still shaking inside from the music. “It was all right. But I think I’ll have to tell Alex I can’t do it. Just so busy, you know?”

Alfred tutted. “If you want to do it, we can make the time. Master Dick had his gymnastics meets. And Master Ja—”

Alfred cut himself off and Tim looked out the window. So many conversations ended that way in the manor. But he remembered Dan’s song about needing someone to lift him up. “You can talk about him, you know. To me. If you need to.” Tim didn’t look at Alfred as he spoke, just continued staring out the window.

“Thank you, Master Tim.”

The rest of the car ride passed in silence as Natalie’s refrain, “I’m not here,” echoed in Tim’s head. He focused on keeping his breathing steady and his hands still. He was fine.

When they got to the manor, Tim took over his corner of the dining room table and pulled out his homework. Laptop set up on an angle to his left, papers on his right. Start with math because that was the easiest.

Only he couldn’t focus on the numbers at all. For possibly the first time in his life, they didn’t make sense.

Catch me I’m falling.

Tim grit his teeth and grabbed his headphones. Maybe if he just listened to the soundtrack again, the songs would get out of his head?

He started it from the beginning. His pencil tapped against his papers in time to the beat. When he got to Natalie’s song, even his pencil stilled as he stared unseeing at his homework.

Then Gabe started singing “I’m Alive!” and Tim grabbed his phone and jabbed the back button. He couldn’t. He couldn’t listen to that one.

Natalie singing about being invisible might cause his hands to shake and his heart to beat hard, but it was better. He stared at his phone, watching the lyrics pass by. When the final words appeared, he jabbed the single repeat button to make sure he wouldn’t be jump scared again by Jason’s, Gabe’s song.

He had no idea how many times he’d listened to “Superboy and the Invisible Girl” when Alfred cleared his throat behind him. “How is your homework going, Master Tim?”

Only his months of training kept him from jumping in his seat. He looked over his math and realized he’d only managed to get through two problems. “Going great, Alfred. What’s up?”

Alfred raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t call him out on his lie. “Dinner is nearly ready. Why don’t you put away your things and help me carry it out?”

“Of course! I’ll be right there. Just give me two minutes.”

Alfred smiled and clasped his shoulder. “Take your time. I’ll go inform Master Bruce.”

Tim nodded as he gathered up his papers and closed his laptop. Within moments, his things were neatly packed and his backpack hidden in the hallway closet.

Dinner at Wayne Manor was as awkward as they all were. Tim sat two seats away from Bruce and kept quiet. The first time he’d eaten here, Tim had tried to ask Bruce about his day, but Bruce merely stared at him for an entire minute before grunting and going back to his food. Tim hadn’t tried again.

He should’ve refused the ride home and taken the three buses and a cab that it took to get from Gotham to Bristol. Then he could’ve eaten in his own home. At least there it was silent because no one else was around rather than whatever this mess was.

Through it all, he could hear the echo of Natalie’s song. He felt invisible sitting there in complete silence.

With no conversation and all three of them focused on their plates, Tim finished eating within ten minutes.

“Would you like anything else, Master Tim?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Bruce grunted. “Then report to the cave. I need to debrief you before tonight’s patrol. And I want to evaluate where you are in your training.”

Tim jumped to his feet. “Of course. I’ll bring my dishes to the kitchen and head right down.”

The debrief was boring. Edward Nygma had escaped Arkham, so Bruce had Tim review several of his old riddles. Tim had kept up with those when they had happened and really didn’t learn anything new. The Riddler’s cases had always interested him the most.

Not that he said anything of course. From the direction of Jason’s memorial, he could hear the echo of the words, “I’m alive!”

If one thing could be said for training, it was that it required enough of his focus to drown out Jason’s voice. Bruce hit hard and fast and scolded whenever Tim wasn’t able to dodge. But it was fine. He was getting better.

To his surprise, when they finished, Bruce merely grunted at him and turned away to change into his suit. Tim must’ve done really well, and he bit back a smile. Usually they spent at least ten minutes going over everything Tim had done wrong.

Patrol itself started fine. They were looking for leads on Nygma, but in the meantime just stopped anything they came across. The euphoria of patrol chased away the echo of any songs that might have haunted him otherwise.

Everything was going fine. Until Tim saw a woman in scrubs getting cornered in an alley by three large men. He looked around, but Bruce was already two streets away. “Batman?” he asked over comms.

“Hurry up, Robin.”

Tim bit his lip and debated following, but then the woman began begging. “No, please. I promise I don’t have anything.”

“You’ve got a phone, don’t you?” asked one of the men as he took another step forward.

“And even if not, bet there’s something else we could get from you.”

Tim did not like the smile on the second speaker’s face. Mind made up, he shot his grappling hook and swung down, making sure to land on Asshole #2’s shoulder’s, knocking him to the ground.

“Pretty sure she said she’s got nothing for you. Why don’t you leave her alone?” He stood on the asshole’s back.

“Shit, it’s the kid!”

“Where’s the bat?”

“Get offa me!”

Tim jumped off #2’s back as the man pushed himself up. Dick’s acrobatic training meant he landed on his feet, and Shiva’s training had him pulling out his staff and extending it into the man’s stomach as he did.

While #2 was bent over trying to regain his breath, Tim swung it to the left to get the Asshole #1. The woman, meanwhile, pulled out a canister of pepper spray and got the third directly in his face.

Tim grinned at her. “Thanks, ma’am!”

“I should be thanking you, Robin. Glad to see you back out on the streets!”

The pepper spray victim collapsed to the ground and was scrubbing his face, leaving Tim with just two to take down. He managed to get both incapacitated quickly and zip-tied their hands behind their backs.

He was finishing with their ankles when he heard, “Robin,” from behind him.

Shit, that was definitely Bruce’s I’m-not-happy voice. Tim forced a grin and turned. “Hiya, B!” he said, just as he’d heard Dick or Jason do when they were in trouble on patrol. “You missed the fun.”

Only, unlike with Jason and Dick, Bruce’s jaw tightened and his hand clenched into a fist.

But he didn’t say anything. So Tim turned back to the woman. “Want me to escort you home? How much farther do you have?” He knew Bruce wouldn’t be happy with that, either, but he couldn’t just leave her.

“Just two blocks more. Would you mind?”

“Not at all!” Tim turned to Bruce, still grinning. “You can call this in, right? I’ll be right back!”

“Robin!” barked Bruce.

“Yeah?” Tim pretended to have no idea Bruce was upset. He was shaking inside, but he was Robin right now. And Robin was brave and bright, no matter how scary Batman was.

“You do not wander off.”

So Tim cocked his head. “Oh, you want to come, too? I’m sure that’ll make Ms…” he looked at the woman curiously.

“Emma,” she supplied.

“Ms. Emma feel even safer. Are the cops on their way for these three jerks?”

Batman grunted and Tim’s grin grew.

In a stage whisper, he told Emma, “That’s Batman’s ‘yes’ grunt. Let’s go. These three will hold until the police get here.”

Emma laughed and led the way down the street. “I’m gonna be the safest person in Gotham, then. Thanks, Robin, Batman.”

“So, Ms. Emma, do you work at the hospital nearby?”

“Yep. I’m a night shift nurse. Usually I drive to and from, but my car’s in the shop. And I’m only a twenty minute walk from work. Thought I could risk it for one day.”

Tim nodded. “That’s how they get you.”

Emma laughed and ruffled his hair. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll just wait until one of my coworkers can give me a ride home tomorrow.”

“How much longer until your car is ready?”

Emma sighed. “I don’t get paid until Friday. Then I can authorize the work to start.”

Tim hummed in sympathy, but was already making plans to track down Emma’s name and figure out which mechanic she used. Surely it’d make sense for Robin and Batman to pay her bill after helping her out. And a bit extra to move it to the top of the line.

Tim asked Emma about her work and she regaled him with stories from a Gotham ER for the rest of the walk. Bruce stalked silently behind them.

When Emma stopped in front of an apartment complex, she turned to face Tim. “Thanks for walking me home, Robin.”

“Anytime, Ms. Emma.”

She leaned down and hugged him tightly. Tim’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden warmth. His heart beat hard in his chest and he could feel every point of contact like it burned. Just as he realized he should lift his arms and hug her back, though, she was pulling away.

“Good night, Robin! And you, Batman.”

Bruce just grunted, and Tim wanted to roll his eyes. “Good night to you, too. Stay safe!”

“I will, thanks to you.” She waved as she unlocked the door and disappeared inside.

“Batmobile, now.”

Tim bit back a sigh. “Of course, Batman,” he said. He didn’t bother pretending to be cheerful now that they didn’t have an audience.

Bruce spun and shot his grappling hook, swinging away. Tim followed on his heels. Tim knew he was in for a scolding, but didn’t dare dally on the trip over.

When he got to the alley, Bruce was waiting next to the driver’s side door. He grunted and gestured for Tim to get in.

Tim’s hand didn’t shake as he opened the door, but his stomach felt like lead, and he knew it was only long practice at hiding his nerves that kept it steady. Bruce slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out.

Even with his gloves on, Tim could tell Bruce was gripping the steering wheel as tightly as possible. And his jaw was clenched shut in displeasure. Tim bit his lip, unable to break the silence that settled in the car.

Silence that stretched for long minutes. Tim began to hope he’d be able to avoid the lecture he knew was brewing.

Then Bruce opened his mouth. “What was that?” His voice was cold and hard.

“What? Saving a woman?” Tim pretended he wasn’t shaking inside.

Bruce practically growled at him. “You disappeared!”

Tim kept his back straight and kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. He would not react to the anger directed his way. Keep it straightforward and factual, like giving a report. “A woman was being harassed by three men. They didn’t even have a gun and you were a block and a half ahead already. I knew it’d be a quick intervention so I intervened.”

“You do not go off on your own, ever.”

“I had it handled, Batman—”

“I don’t care! You always ask for backup before entering into combat situations. What if one of them had a hidden gun?”

“I know how to fight against opponents with firearms.” Tim kept his voice steady no matter how much he wanted to shout back.

“You can’t keep running off, Jason!”

Both of them froze. Tim stared straight ahead, every muscle tense, just waiting for Bruce to say something else. The buildings raced past them as they rapidly approached the end of the street.

Only Bruce didn’t hit the breaks. And the building across the street was getting closer.

“Watch the road!” screamed Tim.

Bruce cursed and jerked the wheel, just barely managing to follow the turn of the road rather than slam into the building. Tim had to his arm to keep from banging his head against the side window as his seatbelt dug into his chest.

Once they were back on the road and traveling at a more reasonable speed, Bruce spoke again. “Tim—”

“Don’t.” Tim gripped his uniform over his heart. His throat was tight and his eyes burned and he couldn’t get that damn song out of his head. He wanted to collapse forward, rest his head between his knees and just breathe, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the road, terrified Bruce would get distracted again. “Just. Don’t.”

For once, Bruce listened. The rest of the ride to the cave passed in silence.

The moment the car pulled to a stop, Tim was out the door. He stomped over to the changing area and began stripping out of his uniform. He needed it off.

“Master Tim? Are you all right?”

“Fine, Alfred,” said Tim.

“What happened? Do I need to check you for injuries? Or Master Bruce?”

Tim grit his teeth, but shook his head. “We’re both just peachy.” Tim ripped off his under layer, stripping down to his boxers. “See?” He spun so Alfred could see he had no new injuries.

Alfred’s eyes narrowed as he took in Tim’s body. “Very well,” he said after a pause.

Tim grabbed a mostly clean shirt and pair of jeans from his locker and pulled them on. “I’m going home now.”

“Let me prepare you a small after patrol snack before you do,” said Alfred.

“Not hungry.” Tim’s stomach was still in knots. He could see the brick wall getting closer through the windshield and feel the jerk as Bruce had to turn too hard to keep them from crashing.

Alfred opened his mouth, but closed it again with a sigh and nodded. “Very well, Master Tim. Thank you for joining us for dinner tonight.”

Tim nodded his acknowledgment, though he regretted ever agreeing, and grabbed his skateboard out of his locker. He’d changed so quickly that Bruce was only now approaching the changing area himself. Tim straightened his back and looked Bruce in the eyes. “I will report to the cave at twenty-two hundred hours for tomorrow’s patrol.”

Then, before Bruce could do more than nod, he tossed down his board and jumped on. Twenty minutes later, he was in his own room at Drake manor and climbing into a shower, heat turned up so high it was almost scalding.

It still didn’t make him feel as warm as a stranger’s hug.

And finally, in the privacy of his own house, with three locked doors between himself and the world, Tim collapsed to his knees and cried.

---

Alex was waiting for him when he got off the bus at school the next morning.

“Hey, Tim! Have you made your decision yet?”

And Tim thought about leaving school and going back to an empty mansion with his parents who-knows-where or to Wayne Manor and another awkward dinner.

He opened his mouth to say he couldn’t, that he was too busy.

“Sure, Alex. I’d love to.”

-----

And that's chapter 1! Hope you enjoy!

Totally look up some of the songs from Next to Normal. They hit hard. Especially when imposed on the bats.

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[przeorysza]

The Last Kingdom Season 1 + tumblr

[illiana-mystery]

Every Time Fred was an Actor

[aelswiths]

Until the Danes learn the benefits of peace, it will continue. You may leave me, my dear. As you wish.

For @myrcnahlaedige & @kingslionheart

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Learning stuff about behind the scenes of The Batman (show) really is just when seeing them not feature certain Batman villains or having to adapt Batgirl first and Robin as soon as Teen Titans was done with, just know it was likely down to the Bat Embargo.

[roobylavender]

also something else tangential not to that ask but to the tangent of that ask: it is a wonder why the people to whom bruce affords the most interiority whether by circumstance of knowing him for so long (alfred, leslie) or by his own rare willingness to relent (talia), are never really used to help bolster understanding between him and his children despite the fact that they are aware of things the children aren’t. with alfred i think it owes to lack of consistency in his role from one writer to the next; sometimes he’s merely there for the occasional comedic quip, sometimes he has genuine commentary on bruce’s lifestyle and care for the children, other times he hardly exists as anything more than a prop who could just as easily be removed without any impact at all. talia is obv villainized before she has the chance to interact with any of bruce’s children in a truly constructive capacity. and then there’s leslie. i’m really curious why leslie (at least prior to war games) hasn’t been used more in this capacity. not that it’s the sole thing she should exist for but i think she offers a unique perspective in that while she does condemn vigilantism, she also understands where bruce is coming from and that his intentions are good, if misguided. so why is that never capitalized on to allow her to communicate with, if anyone at all, dick? i have far too many spiels on here about the leslie and jason potential but it’s really baffling to me there’s not a more significant rapport between her and dick considering the fact that year two and full circle establish her as having been a significant witness to dick entering bruce’s life. she was witness to him being partner to bruce for roughly a decade. how would that not result in some sort of relationship between them, and why wasn’t that ever used to provide a bridge to understanding bruce via the lenses of two very different people?

[joemerl]

Available on FF.net here.

Writer's Month 2023: word: hammock | setting/AU: at a bar

Bruce Wayne Week 2023: Identity porn | Injured Bruce | Gotham royalty

Summary: Bruce spends the afternoon relaxing in the backyard. Not by choice, obviously.

Word count: 455

[katyspersonal]

I’m gonna be honest. People who make elaborate “call out” posts to “warn” other bystanders about a person because of a drama THEY were involved in with said person give me the creeps. Exposing private message threads? Twisting words clearly meant one way to mean something else? Putting on the best victim voice they can? Yeah, no.

I don’t give a fuck who you befriend or interact with on Tumblr. I don’t care if you wanna talk to the most hardcore “bigots” on the sight and try to understand them. We never get anywhere idealologically if we just ignore each other. Everyone just stews in their own corners. Like I’m not kidding, GO TALK TO THOSE PEOPLE. Get to know them. Befriend them. Help them. Find out why they think the way they do for the understanding alone. You can be friends with a person and not support what they believe in.

For people to act like self-righteous weirdoes about it and “call you out” just screams Catholic household shaming tendencies with a dash of high school bully and I ain’t here for it.

Let’s just say I now know who not to talk to on this sight because of those call-out posts either. It had the reverse effect on me.

Hey... I do not know who you are, it is your right to lurk (maybe you don't even have Tumblr account?), but I am really glad that you reached out here to talk about such things with me <:3

I already described my stance on the matters in detail in previous asks, and I can say me and you have very similar approach to people and events. Honestly also yes, in 99% of the cases people "warning" me about someone basically gives me the 'thanks for follow recommendation, lil shit!' gut responce x) The rest 1% is some drastic and undebatable danger for potentially anyone that is not moral panic but practical one (a p3do or a scammer for example), but attempt to socially excile people for different experiences and opinions is absurd - so is becoming a control freak over anyone who interacts. I thought we all left the "if you sit at the lunch table with a person popular kids declared a looser - you become a looser too :c" mentality back in middle school, but apparently some people didn't. :facepalm:

I also think something got lost here - because people are within their right to create an online space serving as only comfort for them, avoiding negative stimulus or talking to people that anger them. The problem is, they can't mind their OWN business! Creating their own internet bubble is not enough - they can't bear the thought that someone they hate still exists nearby even if they aren't interacting!

I call such people 'The Alfreds'. You know, Alfred. The fanatic that cannot sleep at night knowing Annalise is still alive and functioning, even though her clan is destroyed and she cannot DO anything. I always felt like this is the implication of him being a co-optor summon in Old Yharnam; Djura makes a valid point that beasts in there can't harm anyone, but Alfred just can't let them EXIST period @_@ They are Alfreds! Natural enemies of Annalises (people that cannot even harm anyone but are IMPURE- errr, "problematic") and Djuras (people who get hostile defending ideas of autonomy and refusing to harm those Alfred want destroyed). ...Yet the Alfreds tend to LOVE either Annalise or Djura o_o" Talk about not understanding the character you simp for! ...They also tend to HATE Alfred's guts. Tell me what character you hate and I'll tell you what you are in denial about. -_-

They HAVE to get petty and convert everyone else into hating that person and "purify" the fandom by denying them interaction and not letting them contribute GOOD things in it like drawings, lore, fanfics, retranslations etc. Nobody cares about the fandom LESS than this sort of "fans". Because they are not able to appreciate art and thoughts - they will "love" everything as long as the "right" person provides it. It is not critical, it is not intimate. It is shallow.

This "approval" is not worth anything. It reduces creativity to a product, it disregards what art exists for - uniting people, and being the beauty anyone can create regardless of gender, race, sexuality, neurodivergency status, their past, religion, ideology. I will never forgive the messed up purity bullies quest to trim and control the one medium where souls of everyone can show regardless of our differences, or even antagonism. That only people woke idiots deemed "pure" can share their creativity and encourage someone else's, that they try to not let people perceive and understand their creativity because they are "wrong" type of person. This mentality needs to die down.

Whew! You guys recently make me talk about things I desperately tried to forget and repress because I just had no "excuse" to vent. But I appreciate the opportunity just falling on me from the sky, this is cathartic. Again, you don't have to show your face or even like me, of course - what matters is that it seems like you can analyze such situations with true insight and make weighted choices. You consciously improve your fandom experience without making it at someone else's expense, and it's all I ever wanted to see to believe communities are not ALL doomed. I am just glad that you took it as 'the Alfreds showed their true face' situation, and I hope you have a good time in the fandom otherwise!

[p1nkshield]

Prompt idea: Danny has been attending Wayne family dinners for weeks now and he truly doesn’t know how he got this far

Danny has been without a home or a means to get food for a while because of either identity reveal gone bad or Dan timeline shenanigans. Either way he needs to eat. As a last ditch attempt Danny tries to attend/infiltrate a Wayne family dinner. He’s seen the Wayne kids around Gotham and he’s sure that he could look and act the part enough to get in the door and out with some bread rolls at least.

Was it his best idea? No.

But he sure as sugar ain’t firing on all cylinders rn.

And Bruce already has a gaggle of blue eyed, black haired children.

What’s one more?

Batfam of course notices immediately when a whole new kid shows up, grabs some miscellaneous pieces of food and then prattles off some excuse about “not being that hungry.” (Clearly a bald faced lie) And that they were “Going to the library to study for finals, bye Dad!”

1. No one skips out on family dinners. Even Jason was here.

2. Alfred sets the table for everyone ahead of time and the kid had no place to sit.

3. Nobody in this house studies anything beyond case files.

4. Nobody in this house calls Bruce Dad.

Danny thinks he is suffering from success. No matter where he is in Gotham someone picks him up and insists he’ll be late for family dinner which is unacceptable.

Alfred just wants to feed the boy.

The batkids are amused by his efforts to look as though he’s been here all along.

Bruce is drafting adoption papers as we speak.

[speedforce-zoomies]

“Favorite hero - go!”

Tim didn’t even look up as he continued to type up his report for the night, “Dick Grayson.”

Jason scoffed, “Way to use your listening ears Timbers, Duke asked who’s your favorite hero, not your favorite brother.”

“I heard and I answered. Dick Grayson. If he’s Robin? Robin is my favorite hero. Now he’s Nightwing? Nightwing is absolutely the coolest hero to ever exist. He’s acting as Batman? Obviously Batman’s the best.”

Dick grinned brightly at Jason, smug in a way only older siblings can be.

“My. Favorite. Hero. Is. Dick. Grayson. From the day I first meet him, to the day I discovered his hero identity, to becoming a part of his legacy, to the first time he called me his brother, to today and till the day we’re both dirt and worms, my big brother will always be my favorite hero. You use your listening ears.”

Several of the others made faces or rolled their eyes at dirt and worms part of his rant but Dick only laughed quietly and hugged Tim so tightly that Tim felt the air being slowly but steadily pushed out of his lungs. Tim made no complaints but did roll his eyes, though no one but Cass could tell if it was at Jason or Dick.

“I can not find fault in your decision,” Damian weighed in, “And obviously, Father is your second favorite, thus your third favorite must also be of equal valor?”

Tim huffed and wiggled his way out of Dick’s loving embrace, “Who said B was my second favorite?”

Everyone blinked at him and he grinned, the exact same expression on his face as had been on Dick’s a few minutes prior, submitted his report, grabbed his Zesti off the ground beside him, and took advantage of Bruce and Alfred entering the cave to escape any more questions.

“Good night!” Dick called after him.

“Night!” Tim waved behind him.

“Well, I think I’m a strong contender for second favorite,” Tim heard Stephanie say and someone’s muffled response before the grandfather clock closed behind him.

[haveihitanerve]

Four Times the Batkids Forget They're Adopted, and The One Time Damian Forgets He Isn't

It had started off as a joke, as most things do, and Dick meant nothing behind it, really. It was amusing to him, actually, to tell his coworkers things about Batman and pass it off as his father. “Oh my dad? Yeah hes not big on talking. He loves showing me he cares though.” (this was, of course, in reference to Batman doing three back flips and a kick split when Nightwing had patrolled with him the other day, a classic Nightwing move) But it soon…went deeper. Dick stopped making jokes out of it, and actually began listing things about Bruce. About his Dad. It didn't help that his police friends were actually interested. “So did you and the old man do anything fun over the weekend?” Dick thought back to how he had wanted to surprise Bruce by stopping by for dinner and instead had ended up in the sewer eating granola bars on a stakeout for killer croc, who had escaped. Again. “Oh yeah we had a picnic.” Dick nodded, smiling at Randy. “Yeah. He’s, he’s kinda bad at remembering when to eat a meal on time and all that.” Dick laughed. “Its something I share too. Must be genetics.” He rolled his eyes. Randy laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I hear you. My old man smoked all the live long day. I try to keep it down, but that addiction gene is just strong eh?” Dick chuckled. “Yeah I guess.” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he waved to Randy, turning to tug it out. It was one, simple message from Babs. “Ur adopted genius. What genes.” 

Jason didn't even know how they had gotten on the topic. But here they were. “Yes. I got my mothers hair, of course, but I get my temper from my father.” Artemis was saying. “I have parents.” Bizarro grunted. Roy laughed, smacking him on the shoulder. “Well you certainly didn't get Kal’s looks buddy. But you do have his killer hair.” Starfire laughed. “That is true. I, for one, share my parents hair and have my fathers powers. But truly the best gene I was given were my mothers eyes.” They all turned to Jason. “What about you?” Roy asked. Jason scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, I used to have my dads eyes but um after the pit y'know,” He waved to his now green eyes. “And actually I have my dads dark black hair, and he’s graying early too, which might be why my white streak is so prominent.” They nodded in agreement. “But yeah, hes actually a little taller than me so maybe I’ll still grow a few inches but uh yeah. I don't… remember my mother enough to talk about her.” “Dang man. I wish we could meet your dad.” Roy murmured, laying a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Then we could really compare. I mean-” He laughed. “You sound like his carbon copy.” Jason frowned at his friend. “What do you mean? You’ve met Bruce?” They stared at him. “Jason,” Artemis began slowly. “Aren't you adopted?” 

Tim hunched over the information form, eyes straining to read the small print. His hand reached up to stifle a yawn and he settled for a sigh instead. It was late, but Tim needed to get the form done before he went to bed, otherwise everything would be far too stressful in the morning. He reached over and grabbed his coffee mug, a dark black cup that had a red R painted on it poorly. Bruce had made it for him a few years ago when he had first become Red Robin. He sipped it, staring down at the medical form. “Gods I hate having to do this.” He muttered, but reluctantly grabbed the thick medical binder Alfred had obligingly gotten for him when he had asked for medical records of the family. Tim did not under any circumstances, want to have to sit at the doctors office the next day and somehow lie his way through all the medical questions relating to his family history. He didn't have the time nor patience for it, and it was crucial he was given proper medical advice what with his missing spleen. “Any history of heart issues Bruce?” Tim muttered, flipping back past Martha and Thomas to Bruce’s great great great grandfather. “Nope, guess not.” Tim was halfway through the form when he realized the blood coursing through his veins wasn't Bruce’s. 

Steph rubbed a hand across her belly, staring at the monitor. “Your baby looks good Ms. Brown. They’re at the proper stage. Due in about two months. We’ll see you back here for your next check up.” “thank you doctor.” Steph murmured, sliding off the bed and dressing quickly before hurrying out to her car. The car door slammed shut behind her and she breathed, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel. Her phone buzzed. She lifted it and pressed it to her ear, hitting accept. “Hello?” “hey Steph.” Bruce’s voice vibrated through the phone. “How was your doctors appointment?” Steph gave a bitter laugh. “Everything looks good. The baby will come in about two months.” “Thats good. Thats real good.” Steph nodded, eyes closed. “You doing okay Stephanie?” Bruce asked, voice soft. “I don't know.” her voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting tears. “I just- I’m so scared Bruce. So scared.” Bruce hummed comfortingly through the phone. “I know Steph. Its scary. And parenting, its hard.” Steph coughed out a watery chuckle. “Was that a hit?” She muttered, rubbing a hand over her face. Bruce chuckled. “No. Baby it wasn't. And just think, you’ll get to see all the firsts I didn't get with you. Their first steps. Their first wave. You might even get to hear them say mama before i kidnap- i mean adopt him or her.” Steph laughed again, and it sounded less watery. “Yeah. Well, when do kids start walking?” She asked in interest, sniffing and sitting up straight again. Bruce hummed. “Well i started walking almost immediately, but Im special.” Steph laughed. “Of course.” “alfred said i first started talking when I was around thirteen months old, and Talia said Damian was walking by ten, but she could have been lying.” Steph nodded. “Tell me more.” She whispered. Bruce obliged, happy to distract her. “Oh and whats probably going to be your favorite, babies, or at least I did, start laughing at around four months.” “laughing?” Steph gasped. “Oh Brucie!!! Thats too funny! Little chubby baby you, the future batman, laughing!” She cooed. She could almost feel his eye roll through the phone and stifled her laugh. “So yeah..” Bruce finished. “You should expect your kiddo to start walking around then. And laughing probably sooner. I would have if you'd be in my life at that time.” Steph was quiet. “Thank you B.” He hummed. “Anytime Steph. I’ll always be here to help you.” “Wait wait wait-” a new voice joined in the background of Bruce. “Are you guys serious right now?” Steph identified it as Jason. “What?” Bruce asked puzzled. “B, Stephs adopted. Her kid is as likely to walk at the same time you did as when she did!” 

“Damian?” “Go away Drake.” Damian called back, riffling through the papers. “Dami?” Tim poked his head into his younger brothers room. “Oh hey kiddo. Whatcha doing?” “I am busy Timothy.” Damian countered in annoyance, shoving the box back under his bed and moving to his desk. “What are you looking for?” Tim asked puzzled. Damian ignored him. “Dami.” “Go away Timothy.” Tim crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Come on Baby Bird. Tell me.” Damian shook his head, covering the blush on his cheeks by poking behind the desk. “Damian.” Tim’s hand was suddenly on his back. Damian jumped. Tim held up his hands in surrender. “Just tell me. I’m sure I can help you find it.” Damian sighed in acceptance, cheeks pink. “I have.. Lost my adoption papers.” He muttered, staring at the floor. But Tim didn't laugh or ridicule him. In fact, when he looked up, his brother seemed thoughtful. “Well i know me and dick and jason have them hung over our beds…” His gaze drifted to the very clearly empty space above Damians bed. “I know.” Damian jerked his head in a nod. “That is why I wished to find it.” Tim nodded in understanding. “Well, lets go look in the den. Thats where Alfred keeps all the legal stuff.” Damian trailed after his brother to the living room and watched as he opened the cabinet and pulled out three boxes. “You look through this one, I’ll search these two.” Tim ordered. Damian nodded, accepting the box. It was where Alfred found them, two hours later, broom in hand. “My dear sirs, what are you doing?” The butler asked in bafflement. “Looking for Damians adoption record.” Tim answered, nose still in some papers. Alfred looked at them. “Master Tim. Master Damian.” The two boys looked up. “Yes Alfred?” Tim asked. Alfred's face was fond and utterly confused. “Master Damian is not adopted. He is Master Bruce’s blood son.” 

@nonepizzawithleftglitter @zombiewithaflowercrown

you asked and you shall recieve!

[alienzil]

Grandfathered In

There, a job well done. Alfred thought to himself as he put the last grocery bag in the back of the car. Meal planning and shopping for a family as large as his own (and their semi frequent unexpected guests) did take quite a bit of his time but he'd managed to finish a bit early this week.

Alfred was thinking fondly of spending his extra time with a nice cup of tea and a book when he heard a noise from the nearby alley.

He stilled and listened intently. That was the sound of someone in pain. A child in pain if he wasn't mistaken (a sound he would rather he wasn't so familiar with). Well then, the tea would have to wait.

Alfred quietly moved into the alleyway, his hand inside his coat gripping the pistol hidden there. Hurt child or not, it never hurts to be cautious in Gotham.

"Good Heavens!"

There was a boy with pure white hair and bright, barely open, luminous green eyes. He was curled up, partially hidden by the dumpster, clearly barely clinging to consciousness and was oozing bright green blood from a large abdominal wound as well as several smaller cuts and burns.

He approached slowly and held out his hands to try to appear as friendly and non threatening as possible. "You appear to be in a bit of trouble young sir, perhaps I can help?"

The boy nodded weakly and Alfred knelt down and reached to pick him up. Best to get him into the car quickly and make use of his emergency first aid kit to stabilize the boy then get him home for further treatment. The hospital clearly wasn't an option for the young Meta... or alien perhaps? Something to ask once the boy was up to it.

Alfred carefully cradled the child and briskly moved back towards the car. He appeared to be a young teenager but he weighed so little, Alfred almost felt as though he was holding a toddler rather than a teen.

He lay the boy down in the back seat and leaned over to reassure him, gently moving his hair out of his eyes and petting is head in a soothing gesture. "There now, we'll have you right as rain in no time."

"Ha" the injured young Meta tried to laugh. "Might take...some time.. Don't ya think?"

Oh he'd fit right in, Alfred couldn't help thinking. Sassing even as he lay there bleeding. Well, in spirit if not quite the usual appearance, Alfred considered, eyeing the white hair and bright green eyes but-

A bright white suddenly light filled the car. Alfred blinked away the spots from his vision then stared in astonishment at the now black haired, blue eyed boy before him. Well then, fit right in indeed.

*****

Bruce blearily wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table just barely holding in a yawn. He'd been in space on a mission with the Justice League for over 3 weeks and had only just gotten back to Earth in time to crash into bed and get a few hours of sleep before he had to be back up.

He reached for his coffee and looked around the table at his children. Tired as he was, it was good to be home. It even looked like everyone had made it for breakfast, a rare event for their family. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Duke and...

"Who's this?" Bruce asked with friendly smile. Did one of his kids make a new friend?

Alfred silently appeared next to him. "That is your son."

"My son?" What was happening? Bruce was too tired for this. He counted again, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Duke and...he looked closely at the last one. Black hair, blue eyes. Looks like one of his... He had no idea who this child was.

"Your son." Alfred said firmly as he sat some papers next to Bruce's plate.

Bruce looked down. Those were adoption papers.

"Oh. My. God." Stephanie whisper screamed from across the table. "That's where B got the adoption habit from!"

Bruce's attention was diverted from the multiple children trying to shush Stephanie as an uncapped pen was placed in front of him. He looked up as Alfred raised a single eyebrow and gave him a pointed look.

"Right, of course. My son."

He quickly scanned the adoption papers as he signed them then looked over at his latest child.

"Welcome to the family, Danny."

Note: I don't currently have plans to continue this. Anyone can add on if they would like to :-)

[illiana-mystery]

🥴😵‍💫😵

[astronicht]

Okay I'm almost done with Fellowship, here's an incomplete list of shit I noticed and thought was buck fucking wild on my first ever read-thru: medieval edition.

In literally the second line of the book, Tolkien implies that Bilbo Baggins wrote a story which was preserved alongside the in-universe version of the Mabinogion (aka the best-known collection of Welsh myths; I promise this is batshit). This is because The Hobbit has been preserved, in Tolkien's AU version of our world, in a "selection of the Red Book of Westmarch" (Prologue, Concerning Hobbits). If you're a medievalist and you see something called "The Red Book of" or "The Black Book of" etc it's a Thing. In this case, a cheeky reference to the Red Book of Hergest (Llyfr Coch Hergest). There are a few Red Books, but only Hergest has stories).

not a medieval thing but i did not expect one common theory among hobbits for the death of Frodo's parents to be A RUMORED MURDER-SUICIDE.

At the beginning of the book a few hobbits report seeing a moving elm tree up on the moors, heading west (thru or past the Shire). I mentioned this in another post, but another rule: if you see an elm tree, that's a Girl Tree. In Norse creation myth, the first people were carved from driftwood by the gods. Their names were Askr (Ash, as in the tree), the first man, and Embla (debated, but likely elm tree), the first woman. A lot of ppl have I think guessed that that was an ent-wife, but like. Literally that was a GIRL. TREE.

Medieval thing: I used to read the runes on the covers of The Hobbit and LOTR for fun when I worked in a bookshop. There's a mix of Old Norse (viking) and Old English runes in use, but all the ones I've noticed so far are real and readable if you know runes.

Tom Bombadil makes perfect sense if you once spent months of your life researching the early medieval art of galdor, which was the use of poems or songs to do a form of word-magic, often incorporating gibberish. If you think maybe Tolkien did not base the entirety of Fellowship so far around learning and using galdor and thus the power of words and stories, that is fine I cannot force you. He did personally translate "galdor" in Beowulf as "spell" (spell, amusingly, used to mean "story"). And also he named an elf Galdor. Like he very much did name an elf Galdor.

Tom Bombadil in fact does galdor from the moment we meet him. He arrives and fights the evil galdor (song) of the willow tree ("old gray willow-man, he's a mighty singer"), which is singing the hobbits to sleep and possibly eating them, with a galdor (song) of his own. Then he wanders off still singing, incorporating gibberish. I think it was at this point that I started clawing my face.

THEN Tom Bombadil makes perfect sense if you've read the description of the scop's songs in Beowulf (Beowulf again, but hey, Tolkien did famously a. translate it b. write a fanfiction about it called Sellic Spell where he gave Beowulf an arguably homoerotic Best Friend). The scop (pronounched shop) is a poet who sings about deeds on earth, but also by profession must know how to sing the song or tell the story of how the cosmos itself came to be. The wise-singer who knows the deep lore of the early universe is a standard trope in Old English literature, not just Beowulf! Anyway Tom Bombadil takes everyone home and tells them THE ENTIRE STORY OF ALL THE AGES OF THE EARTH BACKWARDS UNTIL JUST BEFORE THE MOMENT OF CREATION, THE BIG BANG ITSELF and then Frodo Baggins falls asleep.

Tom Bombadil knows about plate tectonics

This is sort of a lie, Tom Bombadil describes the oceans of old being in a different place, which works as a standard visual of Old English creation, which being Christian followed vaguely Genesis lines, and vaguely Christian Genesis involves a lot of water. TOLKIEN knew about plate tectonics though.

Actually I just checked whether Tolkien knew about plate tectonics because I know the advent of plate tectonics theory took forever bc people HATED it and Alfred Wegener suffered for like 50 years. So! actually while Tolkien was writing LOTR, the scientific community was literally still not sure plate tectonics existed. Tom Bombadil knew tho.

Remember that next time you (a geologist) are forced to look at the Middle Earth map.

I'm not even done with Tom Bombadil but I'm stopping here tonight. Plate tectonics got me. There's a great early (but almost high!) medieval treatise on cosmology and also volcanoes and i wonder if tolkien read it. oh my god. i'm going to bed.

edit: part II

[the-purple-possum]

Clark needs help on a mission, but Bruce is wounded (Alfred grounded him), and Dick can't stand in so they have to go with the next best thing, Jason.

Jason: *walks into the cave in full bat gear, with several guns strapped to him, sunglasses over the cowl*

Bruce: No no no, what are you doing, Batman doesn't use guns.

Jason: chill out old man, I just want to cock one and say a cool catchphrase, they're not even loaded.

Clark: *has already used xray vision, they are, infact, loaded* *he has decided not to mention it though, they REALLY need to go*

Bruce: *sighs* fine.

Jason: *cocks gun* the world's finest, just got a whole lot finer