#bruce being like

[haveihitanerve]

The fact that it is canon in DC lore that Santa Claus exists and Bruce fucking trained under him is amazing and hilarious but also-

Bruce has children. He knows Santa.

Do you know how much power that gives him????

[bruciemilf]

Need a teen! Bruce au where he’s exactly like Justice League! Batman and Battinson in one. That mf put the fear of every god in Ra’s Al Ghul.

Everytime he’s in a room with someone over 30 “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance plays in the background.

Despite that, in his own way, he’s as gentle as can be with his league. Give me a young Diana who’s getting spat on and ripped apart by the media in a way not one of her male teammates get.

And she’s Wonder Woman. She shouldn’t be affected by it. And she is, anyway. Bruce relates to that in an uncomfortable degree.

“When I first became Batman, weak men tried standing in my way, too. “

“And what did you do?”

“I stepped over them.”

He has a tiny Robin he occasionally has to keep on a leash.

Give me somewhat teen mom Bruce who struggles to wrangle his unruly six year old who likes flipping from rooftop to rooftop and thinks fighting Bane is a piece of cake.

“If Tati can do it, so can I!”

“Dick,” he paused, before handing him a handfull of candy. “Wonderful emotional manipulation. Good job.”

“:D”

[oncillabrigade]

Finally read Robins!

I have a lot of thoughts, but I just want to say this panel is the funniest thing I've ever seen:

[sidewalk-cracks]

The batkids encountering distressed children and calling them "sweetheart", subconsciously mimicking how Bruce would and will call them sweetheart when they're distressed, and not even realizing it?? Don't speak to me. I can't.

[mycroftrh]

Bruce and Tim’s autistic asses have never made eye contact with each other in their lives

Like an interviewer comments lightly on his habit of adopting kids with black hair and blue eyes and he says, absent-mindedly, “Tim doesn’t have blue eyes,” to which the interviewer answers, with great confusion, that he most certainly does, and Bruce suddenly realizes he has never once looked at Tim’s eyes without the domino on and had just sort of assumed they were brown, statistically

[d-1hater]

honestly one of the main reasons I like dc is that they can’t keep a storyline straight for shit. anything I don’t like is just *not real*. that’s different storyline babes what are you talking about???

like at this point I can consider shit like wfa and hell even well written fanfics as canon bc who knows what’s going on with those funky little people?? certainly not the dc writers

[monkesupreme]

dense, neutron star of a man. His weight fluctuates based off of the amount of sun hes been exposed to, and the amount of water ingested, so a very healthy kryptonian easily weighs around 350-400 lbs/ 158-181 kgs. Martha quickly traded in her lawn chairs for sturdy, solid wood, rocking chairs for the front porch as he got older, but Clark seems to be drawn to the flimsy lawn chairs like a moth to a flame.

(Hes prone to shouting for his Ma or Pa when hes scared awake, old habit hes never broke out of lol)

Bonus: a regular day for Bruce

[fanaticalthings]

POV: You're the oldest sibling

it's tough being the oldest.

<- Prev Masterlist Next ->

Bonus:

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[quadrantadvisor]

Imagine if the GIW started gunning for Jason without the Batfam ever meeting Phantom. Like, Bruce has to figure out on his own that the guys in white suits with Lazarus guns are 1. a legitimate government agency, and 2. are perfectly within their rights to hunt Jason like an animal, because 3. there's secret government legislation that says that since Jason's body processes ectaplasm, he's classified as non-sapient and has no legal protections.

Bruce calling up Clark like

Bruce: I am currently in the process of breaking into a government facility in order to dismantle their operations.

Clark: Okay? Do you need... help?

Bruce: Yes.

Clark: Sure, I'll be right there.

Bruce: Not that kind of help. Oracle is sending you the files now. I'd like you and Ms. Lane to make these people wish they were never born.

Clark: [speed-reading the documents] Oh yeah, can do. This is truly disgusting. If the public is half as outraged as I am, we'll get this sorted as fast as the courts can manage.

So Clark Kent acts as a whistle-blower, the Justice League publicly condems the Anti-Ecto Acts as inhumane, the GIW is disbanded, and Batman gets pardoned for all of those crimes that he technically did by assaulting federal agents. And after all that gets sorted, some white haired kid pops up in the Watchtower like "haha thanks for that I really didn't want a war between Earth and the Infinite Realms" and the League are like "wait what"

[corkinavoid]

Thank you, @aceinacorner, for this gem:

You are the inspiration for

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 3]

[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]

Duke narrows his eyes.

He swears Tim was not in the Cave just five seconds ago, and yet, in the brief moment when Duke wasn't looking, he just materialized out of motherfucking aether. Smelling like Chinese food and holding a chicken skewer that looks so good that Duke's mouth waters.

"Can I have a piece?" He asks, the divine smell of food overriding the urge to ask 'where did you get it' or 'how did you get here'.

Tim nods, smiles, and hands Duke the whole skewer before going for the elevator.

Is it Duke's hallucination, or is he really humming something as he goes?.. Actually, that doesn't matter. The chicken tastes even better than it smells, and Duke is perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut in exchange for food.

You don't talk with your mouth full, after all.

~☆~

Cass watches Tim over the table. She hasn't heard him coming into the dinner room - no steps in the hall, no rustle of clothing or breathing. It's like the boy has somehow appeared right in front of the door out of nowhere before entering.

What's more, he seems obviously not hungry, picking at his food with an absent, if a bit dreamy, expression. Granted, Tim always picks at his food, but Cass can see the difference between 'Tim's mind is busy with a new case and therefore too distracted to eat' and 'Tim already had dinner elsewhere and is too full to eat now'.

The bags under his eyes are also not as dark as they usually are. Come to think of it, Cass hasn't seen him in a bad mood for a few weeks now, which shouldn't really be that strange, but it's Tim. The smallest of inconveniences can put him in a bad mood.

Tim notices her looking and raises an eyebrow.

Cass blinks and goes back to her plate. Whatever is keeping her brother happy, it deserves her full approval.

~☆~

Jason is... not so sure as to what is happening.

He did notice that Tim was really chill lately, but this is going a bit overboard.

"Did you spike it with arsenic, Replacement?" He asks, suspiciously looking the offered cup of coffee over without taking it. Tim - surprisingly, actually - doesn't react to the nickname in the slightest, instead giving Jason a deadpan look. Then, he brings the cup up to his mouth, takes a sip, and hands it back again.

Okay, well, that proves no arsenic, at least. It's still very weird. Tim doesn't just buy coffee for people, and he especially doesn't buy coffee for Jason.

"Am I going to owe you something for it, or what?" He asks, slowly reaching for the cup. Tim sighs.

"No. It's just a drink - my boyfriend loves it, and I think you'd like it as well," he explains with a shrug, and Jason is honestly too befuddled to ask about anything. Including the boyfriend part.

No, but since when does Timbers have a boyfriend? He sure hadn't mentioned anything about it to any of the others.

The drink turns out to be not coffee but something else, tangy and thick, and when Jason takes the lid off, it's green like Mountain Dew.

It does taste great, though, and later Jason considers asking Tim for another one. He hadn't had anything better in ages.

~☆~

Damian strikes through the last one of the training holograms, breathing heavily. And yet, just as the 'simulation complete' message pops up in the air, he hears a step behind him.

He turns around faster than a lightning, and-

Finds Timothy's neck at the tip of his katana, with his hands up in surrender.

"What are you doing here?" Damian sneers, lowering his weapon, and Tim swallows. Not because of surprise or fear, though, he clearly had some half chewed up food in his mouth.

"Inaccurate drop off," he says, looking Damian straight in the eyes, "I was aiming for the main floor."

He smells of Indian food and spices, and Damian almost sneezes.

"What do you mean 'aiming'?" He demands, but Drake just waves him off, heading towards the elevator up.

"No worries, I'll do better next time," he shoots a smile over his shoulder, "See you on patrol!" And with that, the elevator doors close after him, leaving Damian alone.

Drake has always been strange, but this is too much even for him.

Not that it's Damian's business. He huffs and starts the simulation over again.

~☆~

If Dick didn't witness it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. Alas, he did, and even though the swirling green vortex has already disappeared like it was never there, Tim, whom the strange portal just spat out on the floor of the Cave, is still here.

"What the fuck was that?" He nearly yells, and Tim looks up, a face of perfect innocence.

"What was what?" He returns the question, and Dick can't find the words to explain, so he just wildly gestures to the place where the portal has been less than five seconds ago. Tim blinks, "Oh, that. That was my date."

Dick chokes on his breath.

"Your date?" He parrots, hoarse and breathless, and Tim nods, like there's not a single thing wrong with anything that has just happened. "Since when do you go on dates? Wait, I thought you were engaged, you said it was cheating to date anyone else, even if you didn't know the spouse, you said-" he cuts himself off, feeling his own face slowly falling and his stomach sinking down in horror. "No. No, don't tell me."

But the shit-eating grin on Tim's face is already proof enough.

Dick clears his throat. Takes a deep breath.

Seeing that Tim is still in one piece, and, well, that he did just casually come out of a magic portal in the middle of the Cave, it's probably safe to say that it's not the first time.

And, judging by the mirth in Tim's grin, it's also safe to say he's been rather enjoying it.

Dick releases one long, loud breath and forces a smile on his face as well.

"So, how is it?" He asks, trying in vain to sound light-hearted, not suspicious. Tim's smile gets wider, and there's a glint of excitement in his eyes now, which Dick considers a good thing, all in all.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

~☆~

Bonus Scene (that somehow turned out longer than I planned)

~☆~

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asks when all the rest of his kids are already seated around the table for breakfast.

"At Danny's, probably," Steph shrugs before digging into the waffles on her plate. Bruce frowns.

"Danny's?" He asks. He hasn't heard that name before. Is that a friend of Tim's?

"Drake's paramour," Damian clarifies, not bothering to look up from his own food, and Bruce's mind comes to a screeching halt. He blinks stupidly, looking around the table and sincerely hoping it is some sort of a prank, but Cass smiles and nods, and Dick has an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, and Duke is huffing a snort of laughter at him for it.

"Since when-" Bruce starts, but he is suddenly cut off by a glowing circle that appears just a few feet away from them all.

It grows quickly, morphing into a vortex, a green and ominous tear in reality big enough for a person to walk through, hanging in the air a few inches over the ground. The space around it feels staticky somehow, and the color is too bright to look at directly, and it definitely doesn't belong to their dining room. But before Bruce is able to say another word or do anything at all, Tim steps out of it, his hair and clothes ruffled.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters upon seeing them all, and turns around, sticking his head into the vortex just as it starts to close. The vortex pauses.

Bruce is almost too stunned to move.

His kids don't share the sentiment, though, most of them not paying the portal any attention at all. Bruce would have reprimanded them for the poor awareness of their surroundings if he didn't notice how Damian simply glanced up at it before going back to his food.

They saw the portal. They just didn't deem it dangerous. For some reason.

Tim's face comes back out, and he turns to Bruce. His expression looks different than before: a bit smug, a little mischievous, and just a tad bit nervous.

Then, another head pops up through the surface of the portal. A boy - or at least they look like a boy - with snow white hair that floats in the air and bright, almost neon blue eyes. His skin is far too pale for him to be human, and- he has freckles that look like constellations.

For some reason, that's the part that makes Bruce finally resign to the fact that this is just how his life is. With breakfasts interrupted by green portals and otherworldly boyfriends - because who else might it be, really - before he even had his morning coffee.

"Hi!" Said otherworldly boyfriend grins and waves his hand. "I'm Danny, Tim's fiance," he introduces himself, and Bruce conjures the last scraps of his scattered mind to smile and nod back.

"Good morning, Danny. I'm Bruce." He has no idea what else to say; it seems like a bit late for shovel talk, but a bit early for welcoming speech.

"Would Young Master Danny care to join us for breakfast?" Alfred's calm, but still slightly amused voice comes from the door. Bruce turns to look at the butler with a sense of exasperation - is he really the last one to learn anything in this house? - but the man seems... well, not surprised, at least not on the surface. But his grip on the pitcher of orange juice is just a little too tense for him to have been in the know all along.

Danny turns to him and smiles nicely - his teeth are also way too sharp for a human - before shaking his head, "No, sorry, I was just dropping Tim off."

"For God's sake," Tim rolls his eyes, "Just put on some pants and come out, I refuse to suffer through this alone."

Dick chokes on his toast. Steph gasps, her eyes snapping between Tim and Danny in delight. Cass snorts and kicks her under the table. Damian groans.

"Spare me from the details of your personal life, Drake. Need I remind you that I am thirteen," he narrows his eyes.

The constellations on Danny's cheeks shine just a bit brighter, and Bruce has no idea what that is supposed to mean, but his guess is along the lines of embarrassment. Especially when the boy completes it with rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me that, at thirteen years old, you don't know what sex is?" Tim deadpans, running a hand through his hair in a useless effort to smooth it and taking his seat at the table. Dick's coughing fit comes back with renewed force.

"We didn't-" Danny starts, still kind of hovering midway through the portal, but Damian pays him little attention.

"I do. Yet, I prefer my mind free of the knowledge when it applies to you."

"I want all the details, though," Steph pipes up, looking at Danny from her seat, "Can you, like, sprout tentacles or something, because I know for a fact Tim likes that kind of-"

"Steph!" Tim yells at her, face red, and then turns to Danny, who suddenly has a very interested, if a bit mischievous, look on his face, "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, okay," Danny snorts and disappears back in the portal. Bruce half-expects it to close after him, but the vortex stays.

Which probably means the boy - the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, Eyes of the Universe - is going to be right back.

After he puts on some pants, supposedly.

Bruce watches Tim rub his face in frustration while Steph giggles and elbows him in the side, and sighs. This is so not how he expected this morning to be.

[ikiprian]

Mr. Fenton is a competent teacher. Almost too competent.

If Mr. Daniel Fenton had any more than a BS (with a minor in education), Tim would’ve flagged his profile as a potential Rogue. That’s the way of most charismatic academics, at least in Gotham. (Got a PhD? Instant watchlist.) Instead, he’s Gotham Academy’s newest celebrity, as a young, passionate, out-of-towner substitute while the chemistry teacher’s on maternity leave.

Tim gets the hype. Fenton seems to genuinely love teaching, and is invested in the welfare of the student body. He hands out bananas during exam week, hosts a “study habits seminar” each month to coach effective learning strategies, and the third time Tim falls asleep in his class, he even pulls Tim aside to ask if he’s doing okay. With all the late work he accepts and the protein bars he sneaks Tim, he’s every teen vigilante’s dream teacher. He could’ve been Tim’s favorite.

In fact, Mr. Fenton was Tim’s favorite. Up until Tim walks into Mr. Fenton’s chemistry classroom for a forgotten textbook, an hour after the final bell.

On the board where tallied scores for today’s review game had been kept, “THE CHEMISTRY BEHIND DR. CRANE’S FEAR GAS: ANXIOGENICS, NERI’S, & YOU,” is now scrawled. A detailed diagram of the human endocrine system projects in front of a small crowd of adoring and attentive students.

Fenton is wrist-deep in the skull cavity of an anatomical model. A short tug, and out pops the brain.

It’s plastic. It’s fake.

Tim identifies the nearest emergency exit.

Fenton turns to the door, and in the dark classroom with the projector illuminating half his face, his eyes almost seem to flash red. “What’s up, Tim?” he asks. His friendly grin is too big for his face. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Just Science League!”

[OR: Danny’s a science teacher at Tim’s school. Gotham’s a pretty wild place, even for someone who grew up a superhero in a ghost-infested town, so he takes it upon himself to start a club teaching kids how to manage themselves in the event of a crisis. These Gothamites are pretty hardy, but a little extra training never hurt anybody! And he suspects one of his students might be a teen vigilante, like he’d been, back in the day. As a senior super, it's Danny’s duty look out for him! Surely, this is the subtlest and most appropriate way to give the kid pointers.]

[Tim immediately assumes supervillain.]

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I know WFA is too OOC for some people, but I need that shit right now.

I do love seeing the Batfam beating the shit out of each other. I like how messy their relationships are and I have always loved flawed characters.

But idk, man, Batman #138 just really crossed a line for me and I need a reminder that there are other depictions of Bruce that aren't so fucking heinous.

I'll take this shit:

Over this shit:

Any. Fucking. Day.

[spacedace]

You ever think Dick overhears someone say Jason was the most violent Robin and just gets so mad about it?

And it's not even about like, defending Jason's honor or anything. It's purely because he's just so incredibly insulted that people somehow forgot how much of an unhinged ball of rage he was as a child.

Like I'm imagining him storming into the cave and yanking on his now way too small Robin costume and muttering angrily about I'll show you the angriest Robin

Barbara is facepalming about all the nonsense that's about to pop off that inevitably she's gonna have to clean up. Bruce just starts sweating profusely and desperately trying to talk Dick down because he suddenly remembers that time Dick kicked a criminal so hard they ended up in a coma for a week and smiled so brightly while doing it that the other goons there at the time just chose to jump off a three story building into the suspect sludge that filled Gotham harbor rather than face the unhinged ten year old on bright colors and pixie boots.

Duke: But wasn't Dick the nice one?

Tim, who idolized Dick Grayson's Robin like his own chaotic god: Don't ever insult my favorite Robin that way again. Here are my top thirty photos of him reigning deranged chaotic violence upon his enemies. I'd show you more but this album just has the photos from the first month I started following him and Batman around.

Jason: The hundreds of dead assassins and all the shit I've heard about you and Young Justice suddenly make a lot more sense

[flwrkid14]

Everyone Wants to Be Tim Drake’s Favorite Brother

Being Tim Drake’s favorite isn’t just about bragging rights—it’s about power, perks, and an almost supernatural level of protection.

It starts with the little things. Tim isn’t one for grand gestures, but when he cares about someone, it’s obvious. He listens—really listens—to the small comments, the things others might forget. That offhand remark about a snack you miss? Tim’s already on his way to get it for you. Complaining that your suit’s not fitting quite right? Tim’s hands-on with upgrades by morning. If you're Tim’s favorite, it’s a constant stream of thoughtful gestures. Gear gets upgraded, favorite books and gadgets mysteriously show up, and Tim’s always thinking of how he can make your life easier.

But being Tim’s favorite is more than just gifts. It’s the way Tim treats you, the way he prioritizes you over everything else. Tim listens when you vent, has your back during arguments, even when you’re wrong, and somehow—somehow—he gets Bruce to listen to you more than anyone else.

Bruce listens to everyone, of course. He’s the Bat. But when Tim speaks, it’s different. Bruce doesn’t just hear Tim—he acts. Whether it’s adjusting mission plans, reevaluating tactics, or considering Gotham’s crime trends. He’ll mention something, and suddenly, Bruce is shifting his approach. No one else seems to have that pull over him. Tim has a way of cutting through Bruce’s stubbornness that no one else can match. It’s not lost on anyone that when you’re Tim’s favorite, Bruce seems to listen to you more, too.

And then, there’s the most dangerous perk of all: Tim’s wrath.

Everyone in Gotham has learned to fear the consequences of hurting anyone Tim cares about. They all remember how Janet Drake, Tim’s mother, was exactly the same. Janet didn’t just love fiercely; she made people fear the consequences of betraying her affection. She’d build strong alliances and maintain an iron grip on them, ensuring no one dared to harm those she called her own. She had a reputation for turning the tables in ways that left lasting marks on Gotham’s criminals, so it’s no surprise that Tim inherited the same instincts. The last time one of his favorites got hurt in Gotham, the Rogue responsible learned the hard way that crossing a Drake isn’t something you do lightly. That night, the Rogue barely escaped with his life, and the damage he caused was felt across Gotham for weeks.

The rumors from that time still make the rounds. Red Robin hunted that Rogue down, dismantling supply lines and ruining their operations in ways no one else could, using connections no one could have anticipated for him to have. He sent a message—a warning—one that still echoes through Gotham’s criminal world. After that, the Rogues were far more cautious when it came to hurting anyone Red Robin seemed particularly attached to.

These days, the Rogues are more careful. If they can see who Tim’s favorite is, they back off. Patrols get easier. The punches are pulled. The threats don’t carry the same weight. It's almost comical. Once, Jason caught Riddler mid-riddle and swore he saw him glance over his shoulder like he was checking for something—and then mutter, “Not worth it,” before retreating.

Of course, everyone’s gotten a taste of these perks at some point.

Jason remembers his time as Tim’s favorite. When he first came back, Tim went above and beyond. His gear was upgraded constantly, his safehouses were restocked with his favorite things, and there were custom modifications to everything. Tim even managed to reclaim all his old safehouses from the GCPD archives with no problem. Jason never openly admitted it, but he savored every moment. It felt good to be cared for like that.

Cass had it too when she struggled to reconnect with the family. Tim stuck close, quietly offering his support—whether it was with training or just sitting together. She didn’t ask for a suit upgrade, just mentioned how bulky it was in passing, and Tim designed a new one for her the following week, fitting it perfectly to her style. And as for the Rogues? They couldn't run away fast enough when she showed up.

Right now, they all suspect Duke to be the favorite. Tim’s always inviting him to collaborate on tech projects or sharing valuable intel. And Duke has started receiving gifts that seem to show up at just the right moment—books, custom gadgets, and even the occasional throwback cereal he mentioned in passing. Tim’s also been there for him every step of the way, making sure he’s always in the loop, collaborating on projects, and taking the time to make Duke feel seen.

“You know,” Duke said one night, stirring his soup casually, “Scarecrow’s been weirdly quiet lately.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jason said with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do?”

Duke blinked. “Nothing.”

Jason shot Tim a look. “What did you do?”

Tim’s smirk was all the answer Jason needed.

And that’s the thing—being Tim’s favorite isn’t just about attention or gear. It’s about something more. It’s about protection. Once you’re Tim’s favorite, the world seems like it can’t touch you. And everyone knows it.

They’ve all had their time as Tim’s favorite. Jason, Cass, even Damian had his moment. But once you’re no longer the favorite, it’s hard not to crave it again.

Jason lingers in the Batcave, pretending to talk about his gear but subtly hinting at upgrades Tim could add to it.

Damian scoffs at the idea of being prioritized, but Tim catches him comparing his gear to Duke’s own, new and improved gear, muttering to himself, “It’s adequate,” like it’s an insult.

Dick tries to remain above it all—he’s the eldest, after all. He doesn’t need Tim’s attention. But when he sees Tim working behind the scenes, tinkering with Duke’s gear or offering an unexpected assist to Jason, there’s that ache of longing for when he was the center of Tim’s world.

In the end, they’ll never say it, but every single one of them secretly wants to be Tim’s favorite. Because when Tim Drake decides you’re his favorite, you’re not just cared for—you’re protected and given an unwavering loyalty that makes you feel untouchable in Gotham.

And in Gotham, where danger is always close, nothing is more powerful than the protection and devotion of a Drake.

[duckysprouts]

batman is an optimist. how much must i shout this fact into the void that is the internet before people realize. he is the biggest optimist in the universe. he is so insufferably compassionate, he is delusionally kind, his worldview is somehow more catholic than matt murdock because he believes in redemption even when hes lost everything over and over and over. gotham is a shithole that deserves to burn, rent is dirt cheap because nobody sane will live there by choice, and it’s crowning achievement is being the home to the biggest max security asylum on earth staffed by people so corrupt that villains escape every other day. and this stupid boy wrapped his mothers broken pearls around his fists like prayer beads and goes out to get his shit rocked every night for the past 20 years because he fell head over heels in love with said shithole city and its garbage residents, funnelling his wealth into the pit of endless greed because he hopes that a few cents will reach the pockets of those who need it