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antebunny · 9 months ago

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a cuckoo in the nest

(Aka the Fae!Tim fic that I decided not to finish and thus am dumping on Tumblr)

The creature that the Unseelie Queen forces on Bruce is disguised as a human child. Worse, it resembles Bruce’s two current children. Skin on the lighter side, lighter than either of his kids, black hair, blue eyes, and a light sweater and sweatpants combination that either Dick or Jason might wear. It is quite the contrast to the wild fey flashing too-bright teeth at Bruce.

“You will welcome it into your home,” the Unseelie Queen commands. “You will treat it as you would your own son. You will do nothing to indicate that it is anything but a human boy.”

One gnarled claw curls around the creature’s shoulder. The creature’s expression remains eerily blank. Another point in favor of its otherworldliness. A normal human child would show some reaction to the Unseelie Queen’s possessive presence. This creature stays perfectly still.

“In return…” the Unseelie Queen crooks one finger of her free hand in a come here motion and a figure stumbles out of the dark trees surrounding their little clearing.

It is Jason. Injured beyond belief, blue eyes red and weeping. Bruce’s knee jerks, but he forces himself to remain within the small summoning circle. A thin line of salt and iron protecting him from the Unseelie Queen’s unfathomable powers.

“You get your son back.” She presents Jason to Bruce like she’s selling a prize horse at an auction. One hand on the back of his neck. “Alive and well. As he was before his death. The memory of his death will remain, but dulled. That is my bargain, Batman.”

Bruce is not fool enough to give the Unseelie Queen his real name, nor is he stupid enough to lie to her. Using his nighttime alter ego presents the perfect compromise. Batman is not his real name, nor is it a lie. So it is Batman’s black gauntlets that curl into fists as Bruce considers the Unseelie Queen’s deal.

It is the height of stupidity to take a creature he does not know the abilities of into Wayne Manor, and pretend it is his son. Given what he knows of the Unseelie Queen, such a creature could cause unfathomable damage to his family, to Gotham. This is a bet of Bruce’s own intelligence against a fey hundreds of times older than Bruce. He could very well end up losing both of his sons this time.

“B,” Jason sobs. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

But the alternative is to walk away from a chance to have Jason back. This is not the universe where Bruce is capable of such an act. At least with the Unseelie Queen’s bargain, Bruce has a chance to limit any potential harm. Perhaps he can even outsmart the creature and prevent all damage whatsoever. If she had asked him to kill someone, or something more direct, Bruce wouldn’t stand a chance.

Bruce uncurls his fists slowly. “I accept.”

With those two words, both the creature and Jason are invited into the circle. The creature steps forward calmly, Nike sneakers passing over the salt and iron easily. Its arms are flat by its sides, and its head comes up to Bruce’s chest. If it were human, it would be around the same age that Jason was when Bruce caught him stealing the Batmobile’s tires. A blatant attempt at emotional manipulation on the Unseelie Queen’s part.

Jason is shoved forwards by the Unseelie Queen. He trips over his own feet, but Bruce is there to catch him this time, to gently fold him in his arms and check him over for injuries.

“I’m getting you home,” Bruce promises.

And if he has to bring home the Unseelie Queen’s little spy as well to make it happen, then that is a price Bruce is more than willing to pay to have his family whole again.

Tim finally has the chance to be part of a family again, and it is the best family he could have imagined. He can scarcely believe his luck as Mr. Wayne–Batman, for now–leads Tim and Jason (who doesn’t look so good) into the Batcave. Tim is so caught up trying not to gape in awe at everything that he misses the hushed conversation that Mr. Wayne has with his butler, and the slightly louder, much longer conversation he has with his eldest son. The original Robin is standing all of five meters away from Tim! He’s going to be Tim’s older brother!

A lifetime ago, when Tim was still fully human, with parents and the last name Drake, he’d been obsessed with Batman and Robin. Had followed them around pitch black rooftops, through the streets buzzing with neon lights and vices, just to get a glimpse of his heroes. Discovered Robin’s true identity shortly before Bruce Wayne adopted Jason Todd, and a new Robin came to roost in Gotham’s skyscrapers.

Then Janet and Jack Drake gave their only child to the Unseelie Queen in exchange for money and power, and Tim lost his name, and his home, and his entire world.

“What is your name?” Mr. Wayne interrupts Tim’s memories. He looms in front of Tim in an empty Batcave. Mr. Pennyworth and both Robins are long gone. It is only Tim, in his ill-fitting human clothes, and Batman.

Tim knew this question was coming. Mr. Wayne must think that Tim is a human child, and that asking for his name is a simple exchange of pleasantries. He cannot know that Tim is no longer fully human, and his name is no longer free to give or take, nor his own anymore. Luckily, Tim prepared a response. He does not want to lie to Batman, after all, but as much as he wishes he could trust Mr. Wayne with his name, he knows better.

“What do you want to be called?” Mr. Wayne amends, when Tim fails to answer fast enough.

Carefully, Tim purses his lips and whistles. Hoo-ooh. A sharp ho followed by a lower, longer oo sound. The call of a common cuckoo. Hoo-ooh. Hoo-ooh.

Mr. Wayne frowns in response. Tim panics briefly–did he not get the call right? He practiced so much!–and tries again, a little faster. Hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh. Please accept me. I know I’m an unwanted interloper, an imposter. Please accept me anyway.

“Do you have a name in English?” Mr. Wayne asks. He repeats the question in a few more languages. Tim recognizes the Spanish and Russian, but he’s not sure what the others are. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Tim nods frantically. He swallows with difficulty, and then whispers: “Tim.”

It is not a lie, and it is common enough that hopefully Tim can remain anonymous. He is a common cuckoo bird, after all, not even remarkable in his imposition.

“Well, Tim,” Mr. Wayne says, voice dropping to an ominous growl, “I will uphold my end of the bargain. But do not think for a second that I can be tricked into trusting you. And if you give me even the slightest indication that you intend to hurt a member of my family in any way, I will not hesitate to take you down. Do you understand?”

Tim has not cried in years, not since his parents gave him away. But tonight a peculiar wetness pricks at the corners of his eyes as he nods. “Yes, Mr. Wayne, sir,” he says quickly. “I understand.”

It isn’t as though Mr. Wayne is wrong. Tim is an interloper, here to trick Mr. Wayne and his family into caring about Tim. All Mr. Wayne did was make it clear that he will continue to pretend that Tim is part of his family and that he will not be tricked. There’s no reason for Tim to get emotional about it.

It’s just that Tim hoped, if just for a moment, that it wouldn’t be pretend.

The Wayne family, aside from Mr. Wayne himself, is very easily tricked. Mr. Pennyworth (“call me Alfred, Master Tim”) lets Tim follow him around even though he won’t let Tim help with chores no matter how much he insists that he can do it. Tim is fine with that, really. For now it is better to be tolerated, if not liked, than not to be tolerated at all. He has noticed that even Mr. Wayne defers to Alfred in household matters, so it is good to have the real head of household somewhat in his corner.

Most days, Tim sits on the kitchen counter while Alfred cooks, and awkwardly attempts to answer questions about his previous life. It is mixed, as far as conversations go. The questions are very stressful for Tim, who is never sure how much he should say, but smelling and eating human food after so long without it still brings tears to his eyes.

Simmering tomato floats through the air as Alfred adds a pinch of rosemary to his soup. Tim’s mouth waters, and he swallows before talking.

“I had a really long argument with a rosemary plant, once,” Tim recalls ruefully. “It was dumb. But I was so desperate for human food that I’d’ve said just about anything.”

The rosemary plant refused, in the end. Everyone was too scared of the Unseelie Queen to help Tim.

Alfred stirs his pot carefully. “You had an argument…with the rosemary plant?” He clarifies neutrally.

“Yep.” Tim’s legs swing back and forth a bit faster. “I told you, it was really dumb. I would’ve tried with the mushrooms, but they’re mean and scary, really scary. And old.”

Some of the mushrooms are even older than the Unseelie Queen, which makes them even scarier. Except that the Unseelie Queen has Tim’s name, and the mushrooms do not.

Tim blushes all of a sudden, mindful of his audience. “I didn’t mean being old makes them scary,” he mumbles, furious at himself. He is supposed to be trying to get Alfred to like him, and instead he insults him! What is wrong with him?

“It is quite alright, dear boy,” Alfred says. “I assure you no offense was taken. Now, what is it you were saying about being desperate for human food?”

Mr. Grayson (“call me Dick, everyone else does!”) is the easiest to trick into caring about Tim. He is actually not sure what he did to pull it off. Dick stays at Wayne Manor most weekends, and the first time he comes over, before Tim has a chance to enact any of his thirty-four “Trick Robin Into Liking Me” plans, Dick asks if he wants to get ice cream. Tim accepts eagerly, and Dick smiles so brightly that Tim nearly forgets about Mr. Wayne scowling in the background. After that, Dick always makes a point to seek him out. Tim is pretty sure he makes a bumbling mess of himself every conversation, but somehow Dick keeps laughing it off and taking Tim out for another slightly reckless and exceedingly enjoyable excursion.

Jason is a bit harder to trick. He is still healing mentally and emotionally from his death, so he’s off-duty as Robin. Since school is out for the summer, this means he spends most of his time curled up in the library. Tim once hovered behind him for hours, trying to work up the courage to start a conversation, when Jason turned and snapped what so aggressively that Tim immediately ran away.

In general, he is surly, defensive, angry, and reluctant to accept affection from his real family, much less Tim. Eight plans to trick Jason into caring about him are complete failures that end in Tim further earning Jason’s ire. Another fourteen plans are thrown out before Tim can enact them, after the humiliation of the eight failures.

Eventually, Tim turns to Dick for help. Dick has alluded to a rough start with Jason, which sounds fake to Tim. Dick was Robin, how could anyone not like him? But maybe he can give Tim advice.

It is a sweltering Saturday in late July when Dick pulls away from Wayne Manor in some type of fancy car with Tim in the co-pilot seat.

“I need advice,” Tim says nervously as Bristol’s mansions flash by. Tim did his best not to look at the Drakes’ manor. He succeeded in not looking, but he wondered whether his parents started staying in Gotham more often once Tim was gone, and the question won’t leave him alone.

“What’s up?” Dick asks easily. He lazes in the driver’s seat, two fingers on the steering wheel. It is this nonchalance which convinces Tim to go through with his question.

Tim’s hands tap out some pattern on his forearms and elbows. “How do I get Jason to like me?”

Dick curls his right hand around the wheel and glances at Tim quickly. Tim still struggles reading expressions, so he has absolutely no idea what’s going through Dick’s mind. Maybe he’s thinking that there’s no way that Jason will ever like him. Maybe Dick doesn’t like Tim. Maybe he’s only acting like he cares about Tim because he’s so nice.

“Jason doesn’t…” Dick sighs. “Not like you. He’s just going through a lot right now. On top of the stuff with his birth mother, he also, well, you know.”

“Died,” Tim supplies.

Dick’s shoulders inch towards his ears. Veins in his forearm pop as the hand on the wheel tightens. “Yeah. So, just, give him some time, yeah?”

But Tim doesn’t have time. He has until the end of the summer, approximately two more months. To the fae the end of summer is not a specific day, but rather a sensation. Decay on the doorsteps, rot in the wind. Hot breezes melting into simmering afternoons. The crisp crackle of a leaf underfoot.

If he cannot trick every member of the Wayne family into loving him by the end of summer, he must return to the Unseelie Queen, this time forever. That was her bargain. This is Tim’s one chance to escape her.

Tim looks out his window at the cold, unfeeling mansions and nods miserably. “Okay.”

Jason does not like the new kid. Everything about him is just slightly off. He walks like he’s surprised that his feet come back down. He talks like he’s describing a dream and expects everyone else to understand. He’s constantly watching Jason silently with those eerie, unblinking eyes of his. Despite living in the same house as Batman, Tim is quieter still, always popping up unannounced and thrusting a trinket or a book at Jason.

This isn’t even getting into the part where Jason knows he died but doesn’t quite remember it and keeps having nightmares he doesn’t understand. He vaguely recalls a forest that wasn’t a forest and a hand that wasn’t a hand, curling around his shoulder. Bruce won’t stop treating Jason like glass and Dick still looks weepy sometimes, but neither will let Jason out as Robin. All three are letting Jason get away with everything except the things he actually wants to do. It’s infuriating.

In other words, the summer is off to a great start.

“Bets on the new kid,” Jason says. He’s in the middle of making himself peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, because he is the only one that Alfred allows in the kitchen.

Dick is draped dramatically across the counter, because according to him it’s so tragic how Jason never wants to do anything fun. Jason hit him over the head with a spatula in response. Dick whined about that, so Jason hit him even harder.

“What are we betting on?” Dick asks.

Jason half-shrugs. “Like…he’s clearly not human. What is he?”

Dick sits up on the counter. “Yeah, he keeps talking about talking to plants.”

“And plants are always a little bigger and shinier after he leaves the room,” Jason adds.

“Maybe he’s got some relation to Ivy,” Dick suggests.

This entire conversation would not be necessary if Bruce would just cough up the answer. But he responds to every question about Tim with some variation of “hmmm” or “I cannot say.” Jason even sucked up his pride and asked Barbara, but she doesn’t know what’s up with the new kid either. Jason suspects that Bruce promised Tim he wouldn’t tell, because–

“Have you seen his reaction to food though?” Jason asks rhetorically. “It’s like he’s so shocked he’s being fed.”

And he lets that hang, because maybe it’s true, and not a joke.

Dick scratches his chin. “And he says ‘human’ like he’s not one.”

“Okay.” Jason sets his mixing bowl down on the counter Dick claimed as his seat. “My theory: he’s a metahuman whose parents–or guardians–or whoever was in charge of him–treated as less than human, and he made B promise not to say ‘cause he doesn’t know we ain’t shit like his parents yet.”

“I mean.” Dick scoots off the counter when Jason comes swinging with the baking tray. He attempts to help Jason spread the parchment paper until Jason glares at him. “He thinks you hate him.”

Jason freezes in the middle of scooping a handful of cookie batter into the tray. Guilt curdles, expired milk and broken egg shells, in his stomach. “I don’t.”

“I know.”

Dick doesn’t mention the part about Jason dying, because he’s ultra sensitive to that sort of thing. Jason has debated making extra jokes about his death just to force Dick to get used to it, but he hasn’t gone through with it. He’s never seen Dick cry like he did when Jason came back. They haven’t talked about it, because Jason is allergic to big emotions and Dick is nothing but an oversized bundle of big emotions. But it lingers in the back of Jason’s mind, everytime Dick pretends that everything is fine. You mourned me. It’s so obvious, said like that. Of course he mourned Jason. But it’s not an experience Jason ever expected to live through.

Not even Jason knows how he came back to life. He suspects Bruce had something to do with it, but Bruce won’t say. The continuous silence from him is driving Jason to insanity where the Joker and dying failed.

“Fair tidings.” Tim’s head pops up by Jason’s shoulder and he forcibly suppresses a surprised reaction. Another weird-ism of Tim’s: what sort of American kid says fair tidings? “Can I help?”

“No,” Jason snaps immediately, curling one arm around the batter bowl.

Dick makes a noise, and Jason winces. He didn’t mean to snap at the kid. It’s just that everything about Tim sets off sirens in Jason’s head. And usually by the time Jason is ready to invite the kid in, he’s run off.

“Fine,” Jason grunts. He shoves the bowl at Tim. “We’re making cookies.”

Tim stares at the bowl with owlish eyes, and Jason clamps down on the urge to yell at the kid again.

“Hey, Timmy,” Dick says faux-casually. “I never asked. You got a last name?”

Tim’s head snaps up. “Why do you want to know?”

Jesus, he sounds one wrong word from breaking into tears. Jason exchanges a glance with Dick, who is taken aback by the uncharacteristic bout of aggression from the weird kid, and reluctantly decides to intervene.

“It’s ‘cause we wanna get to know the baby bro better,” Jason says gruffly. “Ya know. Bondin’ and shhhh, uh, stuff.”

Tim’s blue eyes widen into twin moons. “You want to be my big brother?”

The naked hope in his voice is really not helping with Jason’s guilt.

“Yeah.” Jason throws down a few more lumps of cookie dough a bit more forcefully than required. “Ain’t no way B is returning you to the kid store.”

Actually, he’s only seen Bruce interact with Tim once, and it was super awkward. But he’s pretty confident that Bruce wouldn’t take in a kid if he didn’t want that kid to be his kid.

Dick is smiling dopily, so Jason is pretty sure he said enough right words in the right order. “So?” Dick prompts. “Got a last name, baby bird?”

Tim’s hands float to his elbows and start tapping out an unknown pattern. “It’s, uh. Drake.”

“Tim Drake,” Jason tests out, and neither he nor Dick miss the way that Tim does his best impression of a wooden plank at the sound of his name. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Dunno.” Dick snaps his fingers and points at Tim. “Wait! You’re our neighbor!”

Tim gives Dick his weird blank stare, so Dick points at Jason instead. “The Drakes are our neighbors,” he explains. “The parents were always out of the country for vacation or something, but I remember they had a little kid tag along with them once or twice. What happened?”

“Bruh.” Jason shoves the tray in the oven with his bare hands, because he isn’t a wuss and he’s also not stupid enough to touch the burning hot metal with bare hands. “They supervillains or something?”

Tim shakes his head. His hands press flat against his legs. “They sold me.”

He says it so flatly that Jason exchanges another look with Dick just to make sure he heard right. But Dick’s jaw drops in outrage, so clearly they heard the same thing.

“How? When? To who?” Dick’s eyes narrow. He’s dropping into protective big brother mode. Jason has had the dubious pleasure of experiencing it first-hand a few times. “Does B know about this?”

But Tim shakes his head again. “I can’t say.”

“Are they threatening you?” Jason jumps in, pretending his tone isn’t leaning in the same big brother direction as Dick’s is. “You know B has Supes on speed-dial, right? Ain’t no one in the world who can get away with threatening you now that B’s got you.”

Tim shakes his head a third time, and Jason really has no idea if Tim actually means no or if he’s just moving his head.

Dick and Jason exchange another worried look, but this time Jason isn’t sure what Dick is thinking. Mostly because Tim just gave them about a thousand more questions in the process of answering one.

#batfam #batman #tim drake #my fanfiction #my writing #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #fae tim

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ijustthinkhesneat · 8 months ago

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I feel compelled to expand upon the previous fae/folklore! Batboys headcanons:

-Bruce is just a straight up normal human. I think this provides a great opportunity for angst because unlike his immortal? children Bruce does age and it terrifies them. And Bruce is young he’s in his early 30s but like his knees will crack a little or his back is slightly stiff after a bad patrol and it just sends them into a spiral because they cannot fathom their dad not being around forever. I can definitely imagine them trying to strong arm Bruce into becoming some flavor of unaging. You could go super dark or just more generally emotional angst but damn the possibilities.

-Cass is giving me shadow person. Very cryptid of her. I’m not sure that I have a clear backstory for her worked out yet. Either magic gone wrong or she’s another flavor of undead like Jason and Tim. I like to imagine she just hovers over people at night to be creepy.

-Originally I wanted to say Duke was a Will-o-the-wisp. But I’m not really sure it fits, especially since he’s primarily active during the day. Then it hit me. Mothman. My lamplight boy is a moth creature. I like the idea of him hiding his little antenna under a beany and wearing sunglasses. The wings would be difficult. But my boy is creative.

- I think Steph and Barbara are also human like Bruce they just are extra bad ass.

-Coming back to life as a magical creature warps peoples memories and emotions from both the trauma and changing into something not human. Tim is significantly less effected than Jason, at least outwardly, because he was only a toddler when he died so he didn’t have many memories or experiences to draw from, but Jason was super volatile. His memories surrounding Willis became even more dark while his memories of his mother sort of glossed over her absentee parenting and drug use. Jason can’t help but struggle with associating the negative learned experience he had with his first paternal figure with Bruce. Jason ends up going to live with Talia for a while because he doesn’t want to feel that way about his dad anymore.

-Basically I think Jason, at least mentally, is the most human of Bruce’s kids besides Damian because he actually lived a life as a human, where as Tim changed so young that he doesn’t really know how to be anything but his extremely disturbing self.

-I think Gotham just has major ‘I do not see it’ energy. Like The Batfamily? Demons from hell. The Wayne’s? Hot neurodivergent people. Did you see Dick Grayson unhinge his jaw like a fucking snake at a gala? No you didn’t he just has a really big smile. Jason Todd??? Has scales??? Nope actually he just developed early onset Eczema and he’s really self conscious about it how dare you! Tim Drake sucking the blood of the himbo blonde boy? Everyone knows Tim and Bernard are total freaks. Cassandra Cain is your sleep paralysis demon? Honestly fair.

-It’s totally a coincidence that strange misfortune befalls anyone who threatens the Wayne’s!

-Clark is Bruce’s favorite man to sleep on so he gets a pass. I don’t know why but a midwestern spin on the story of princess kaguya lives in my head rent free. Like Martha Kent is just shucking corn and then boom baby in the corn. We call that children of the corn. I still love to imagine him being like so perfect that it’s high key alien, but his little sharp nails and fangies! Maybe even slightly pointy ears. And like Clark fully thinks he is human, like his parents don’t tell him humans can’t fly until he’s in kindergarten, and even then they just tell him he is special and learned super fast and shouldn’t embarrass the other kids and Clark is such a Good BoyTM that he just never uses his powers in public cause he doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Like bro doesn’t learn he is adopted until he is about to go to college, he is just straight up clueless.

-Clark learns Dick is a Fae creature when Batman brings Robin to the Watchtower cause he couldn’t get a baby sitter and Alfred doing some spooky shit like dusting the mausoleum. Like Batman just slinking around but there is this super colorful child with him. And then Dick turns and smiles and it’s just so wrong, like his mouth just stretching his face like some horror movie shit. Clark almost shots himself cause like what the fuck. Bruce told Dick to just ‘be himself’ so like he just thinks he’s being friendly. Despite being creepy as all hell Clark kinda thinks Dick is super adorable. Like was he spider crawling around the floor with all his limbs bent the wrong way while Bruce and Clark were talking? Yeah but then he just tugged on Bruce’s cape to ask for a juice box, like that’s a baby.

-Jason freaked him out in a different way. Since Jason is undead he doesn’t have a heartbeat and doesn’t need to breath so when he isn’t moving he makes literally zero noise. When he first met Clark he was just watching him from around corners and behind stair banisters and Clark was convinced he was losing his mind and hallucinating the kid from the Grudge. Then Bruce is just like “Oh you met Jason! He’s so sweet, just a little shy. He’s my second oldest! I think he likes you though.” And then a little grey blue slightly webbed hand just reaches around the corner to give a little wave and boom Clark would kill for him.

-Tim is similar in that Clark has trouble pinpointing his location because of a lack of normal bodily functions, but Tim has no idea what a boundary is. So like at first he’s a shy little toddler and then that night he’s crawling all over Clark and pranking him nonstop.

-Damian is a baby but like Clark looked in his eyes and just felt like this infant could see his past present and future and was judging him heavily. Clark was relieved cause at least he had a heartbeat.

-Cass lives to fuck with Clark. She’s Jason’s age but not only has no heartbeat and doesn’t breath, when she is in shadow form he can’t see her with X-ray vision. She can literally make herself undetectable to Superman. He learns this one night sleeping in a guest room at the manor. He gets the feeling he is being watched but can’t find anyone. Then right when he relaxes her arm shoots out from the darkness under his bed and grabs his leg. Clark screams so loud it cracks the window. And then just nearly silent muffled laughter as the arm retreats into the darkness. He X-Ray visions but nothing is there. He demands to stay in Bruce’s room after that. Bruce is just like “Oh that was just Cass. She likes playing practical jokes, she is my little princess!”

#batfam #bruce wayne #jason todd #batman #dick grayson #damian wayne #dc batman #tim drake #red hood #nightwing #red robin #robin #fae!dick #Fae!batfam #Folklore!batfam #freaks all of them #but like hot freaks

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alittlesongbirdchirps · 6 days ago

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FAE BLOOD DICK GRAYSON IDEA

Just an Idea but imagine that Dick deep in his heritage unknown to him descend from faes that's the reason he can do what most humans cant like his super weird flip, why he seems to almost fly so gracefully.

And why after him most people who take the mantle of robin, either suffer or die.

Because he has enough fae blood in him he unknowingly curses the robin mantle, because robin wasn't supposed to be anyone else and Bruce took it from him. So of course he subconsciously cursed it, not wanting anyone to use his name, robins is no one else's.

The curse is different for each robin depending on how Dick viewed each of them.

With Jason, who Dick viewed as someone who took his spot, someone who dared where his colors came along.

The unknown curse that started in retaliation to Jason was worse with him and the reason why his career as robin was so unlucky and led to his demise.

Joker didn't kill Jason because he was Jason but because he was robin.

Tim the next robin, also suffers a lot on his journey as robin and nearly dies and this is due to Dick's relationship, he's trying to do better and be a better brother but he still doesn't like that not only is Tim wearing his colors but also replaced Jason.

When Steph came to be robin she wasn't robin long enough for the curse to affect her and most of the shit that happened mainly happened afterward with no correlation.

Damien the robin that Dick chooses doesn't suffer because he's robin, he suffers because he's Damien Al-Ghoul, or because he is the blood son of the bat. He doesn't suffer because he's robin and because Dick picked him the curse is basically null.

Who eventually figures it out, None other than Jason, he's always been smart maybe not as smart as Tim but he's pretty good at spotting patterns especially when it comes to anything Robin-related.

I mean it didn't take a genius to realize a lot of bad shit happens to those who have taken the mantle after Dick besides Damien's the only one who hasn't suffered because he's robin.

So a little bit of digging It doesn't take too long for Jason to finally figure out the robin mantle was cursed but he didn't expect Dick to have cursed it.

So he goes to confront the golden child Bruce's favorite but is frustratedingly stopped by Tim who figured it out way before Jason ever had.

So he lets Tim speak, and Tim tells him Dick doesn't know, and he isn't sure what will happen if Dick ever found out.

He asks Jason to imagine what if Dick ever found out his brothers suffered greatly because of him, imagine what Dick would do to himself.

And Jason feels conflicted that he can't forgive what happened even if it's unintentional but he doesn't want Dick to suffer, so he agrees to keep what he's found a secret for now or until the curse of the robin mantle either begins to affect Damien or whoever takes it after him.

(You can totally use this as an idea for any writings.)

#Fae Blood Dick grayson #Dick grayson #Dc comics idea #DC Comics prompt #Batman #Batman writing ideas #jason todd #tim drake #damien wayne #batfam #random idea #dc comics

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hijinxinprogress · 2 months ago

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Coffee addict Never sleeps Tim drake ❌

Solving cases in his sleep off 87 energy drinks Tim Drake ✅

The coffee addict never sleeps perpetually tired Tim Drake thing is a widely accepted headcanon however that was elementary school tim but after he stayed up for a week straight subsisting entirely on coffee to decipher the bat weekly patrol schedule and how it aligns with rogue attacks/Arkham breakouts, he crashed then when he woke up it was fucking wednesday so he missed his chance to commemorate his discovery with pictures of Robin and he decided that shit would never happen again and made himself an ‘efficient’ sleep schedule so he could run around doing fuck shit, add to his robin shrine, and stay on honor roll bc he was even more pissed to see the gotham gazette had pictures of Robin with an on site interview credited to Vicki Vale (listen bowl cut tim had a one sided beef with vicki vale that included tim judging who gets better pics of the bats but she isn’t even aware that she’s competing with a whole ass child 😭 he’s sitting at the table with a mug of orange juice and looks at the newspaper snorts and goes ‘fucking amateur I could do better’)

Regularly unsupervised tiny businessman in training Tim ‘Ten hours of uninterrupted sleep?? That’s so inefficient not to mention fucking stupid’ Drake is so pissed he missed getting shots of Robin dropkicking a rogue from 6 six stories up (for absolutely no reason dick just thinks it’s fun) that he just takes at least 3 hour naps every eight hours 😭 he refuses to spend almost half a day sleeping ‘for no reason when he could be doing something productive’

And he still does this as a bat but it’s just easier to tell if he didn’t take his nap bc he has less than zero impulse control and he’s just fucking done with everything like the gcpd is terrified bc tim’s saying shit like ‘This guys a fucking moron, I could’ve done this in half the time without killing anyone fucking loser doesn’t he know if you keep them alive you can prolong the torture?’ and ‘you’re like all hysterical and for what 🤨 ‘you blew up 83% of Bristol waah’ stfu and fucking rebuild it?? It’s only rich mfs that live there, it’s just a matter of them opening their fucking wallets’ once a new recruit made the mistake of asking if robin had adult supervision regularly and Tim responded with ‘well if you’re gonna snitch to cps like a little bitch then yeah’ and that cop did snitch so tim fucking doxxed him

Yj has just accepted that sometimes they will find tim in an air vent, on the roof, in one of their closets, or something just fucking knocked out then an alarm will go off and he’ll just get up like nothing happened but for the first couple of months they were probably concerned bc ‘I’ve never seen you sleep?? wtf are you on man’ and Tim’s confused bc ‘I slept next to you this morning wdym??’ and that’s how yj discovers tim sleeps with his eyes open

But one of the worst things about Tim’s ‘time efficient sleep schedule’ nonsense is that it fucking works he’s one of the most well rested and coherent bats even after back to back Arkham breakouts however the absolute worst thing about his sleep schedule is the likelihood of going into the cave and seeing tim staring in a daze but wide eyed yet somehow never blinking at the batcomputer with 57 tabs open on top of being unresponsive and thinking he has a fucking concussion or he’s been replaced but he’s just doing case work while muttering nonsense in his fucking sleep for some reason

#Tim drake being unhinged even in his sleep and taking sleepwalking to the next level by doing reports/solving cases in his sleep #A bat hearing incoherent mumbling but no one’s nearby: 😐 he’s in the walls 😨 he’s in the goddamn walls #No one knows how or why he’s in that particular spot in the wall bc there’s isn’t a secret entrance/crawl space there #Tim also has a wall of energy drinks Bruce regularly tries to lecture him aboot #And Tim’s like ‘your eldest son has snorted sugar MULTIPLE times’#then he gestures at Jason ‘and that one looks like if he didn’t have drug related childhood trauma he’d try to snort protein powder’#bruce: tim we have to talk about your behavior #Tim: like three of your kids have basked in the blood of their enemies 🤨 I am NOT your biggest issue rn #Dick Grayson being the main reason there’s an ‘acceptable levels of force’ slide with 600+ slides & most are examples of what not to do #Stephanie 🤝🏾 Damian: being reason Bruce is adding more slides to a PowerPoint from 2 decades ago #Tim drakes idea of straight forward is how everyone else imagines jumping through hoops and fucking struggling to avoid pissing off the fae #Like wdym simple?? This plan has 97 parts and he’s like no that’s just the first page of plan 1 if it’s sunny #Rogues: I can’t catch him off guard wtf do none of these mfs sleep??#Tim ‘never let em know your next move’ Drake who’s been sleep for the past 45 minutes: 🔵➖🔵#Yj has cuddle piles in the air vents #Everyone with enhanced senses is losing bc ‘there are children in the walls’#Coffee addict babs calls tim weak when he tells her he cut coffee bc it was fucking with him before continuing to chug hot coffee #Oracle: this is the worst Tuesday ever 😔 I need more coffee before I deal with an Arkham breakout #Nightwing: but it’s sunday??#Spoiler: Maybe it’s time we switch to decaf love also just out of curiosity when was the last time you slept??#Oracle: you want the fucking location or not?#Dick: I take it back mb #Spoiler: a thousand apologies to our gracious overlord #Oracle: that’s what I thought #Bruce: you’re benched oracle #Oracle: take that bench and shove it up your ass batman #Steph 100% calls everyone mushy pet names and has since Bruce lectured her about professionalism when she was dating tim #Imagine getting your ass kicked by a sleepingwalking middle schooler #Or worse: imagine having to explain to your insurance company that a sleepwalking child blew up your home #tim drake is a menace

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catpriciousmarjara · 1 year ago

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DP X DC

Ao3

The Job Offer

"And why not you?", said the man. "You're intelligent, skilled, and adaptable. Most importantly, you're entertaining. That last part becomes very important when dealing with my kind".

A ring glinted in the dim light as he gestured with his hands. "Plus, there wouldn't be any danger in the first place! Our lot tend to stick to the Rules, you see? And not harming the messenger is most certainly a Rule".

A sip of coffee. Eyes filling with mirth.

"In the off chance that someone did take offence, all you have to do is amuse them for a while, and as I said, you're very good at that. But don't worry, they won't take offence".

Dick Grayson, attention still half focused on the vicious black claws on the man's hand, had to ask, "And why won't they?"

The man's pleasant smile didn't falter. But it did slowly morph into a grin with way too many teeth to be normal. The young vigilante had to suppress a shudder.

When the man?it spoke, the voice resonated. "Because you'll be one of mine. And they won't dare touch what's mine".

The teeth gleamed.

And just as abruptly as it shifted, the air changed, the pressure lifted, and the man was smiling once more.

Dick was left off-footed and tightly clutching the arms of his chair, his breath fogging in the still frigid air. He hadn’t even noticed the temperature dropping.

He looked at the man nonchalantly sitting across from him as if he hadn't just taken years off of Dick's life. The vigilante was not one to scare easily. Yet, mere moments ago, Dick had felt a fear so primal that it was maddening. It was not the kind of fear a human being could evoke, no matter how frightening their actions may be. Dick had seen the worst of Gotham, and Gotham was a cesspit on a good day. But he hadn't ever felt like this before today. If there was ever a question about the humanity of his companion before...well it was answered now.

To be honest, he couldn't quite recall how he got here in the first place. Everything was a blur.

No...not quite. His memories were alright, it's just that his mind couldn’t grasp them.

And every second in this...space, had felt muted. As though he was lying beneath several layers of sheer fabric; he could somewhat feel things, see things, but his senses were muffled.

The spike of fear from before wasn't him breaking through as much as he was allowed to break through, and now he was safely back beneath the dampening cloud once more. It was almost comforting.

Dangerous.

Dick only remembered what had happened in bits and pieces. Being fired from Robin, the legacy he had forged for himself, named after his mother's love, and garbed in Grayson colours.

Being angry and distraught. Not knowing what to do.

It had taken him weeks to reorient himself. A month to gather his composure.

He vaguely recollected a cafe in Jump City. He had been sitting in a booth, contemplating his options...

Someone had sat right across from him, right?

He had looked up…

“Hello. May I sit here?”

“...Sure. Go ahead.”

“Daniel Nightingale.”

“...Richard Grayson.”

" I know. You shouldn’t give out your name so freely by the way. Also, could I have a bit of your time?"

"Um...yeah, sure?"

“Perfect!”

And the next thing he knew, he was Here.

Wherever here was.

(Why had he said yes then? He would never have done that normally.)

At first his mind had been adamant in believing that here was the very same cafe he had been sitting in. But Dick wasn't trained by the man known as the World's Greatest Detective for nothing. However, it had taken him an embarrassing few moments to start noticing the abnormalities.

For one thing, he had been sitting in a booth in a cafe, not at an ornate wooden table, much like the one in Bruce's home office. The only thing the cafe table and this one had in common was that they were both rectangular.

Secondly, their table was covered by a veil. A huge gauzy one hanging from above. But try as he might he couldn't see where it was hanging from, just a yawning darkness.

Finally, he could see shadows moving beyond the veil, and the more he looked, the more bizarre they became. And at one point, the shadows lost all pretence of humanity. They weren't even humanoid, let alone human.

He definitely wasn't in Jump City anymore.

It had taken him even longer to notice the man sitting across him. That he hadn’t left this Daniel Nightingale behind.

Wispy white hair.

"Ah! You noticed so quickly. You really are the perfect fit for the job!"

Green. green eyes.

"Apologies for the veiling. It's necessary however.., some things are not just meant for mortal eyes, you see. Without it, you might just go insane! We wouldn't want that now would we?"

Unnaturally pale skin.

"Enough dillydallying! But first, introductions. You may call me either Daniel or Nightingale. By what name would you prefer to be called?”

Something about that question made the ex-Robin’s hindbrain pay attention. The wording of it, the tone…

You shouldn’t give out your name so freely by the way.

Could I have a bit of your time?

Something had felt incredibly off, so he had gone ahead and given one of the alternate names he had been thinking of taking up now that Robin was over.

“You may call me Nightjar.”

Nightingale had looked incredibly pleased then. And a bit smug too.

“Let me cut to the chase then Nightjar. I’m here to offer you a job. You’re a perfect fit for the role. We offer excellent compensation, and flexible work hours. Considering you’re out of work now that you’ve been fired from Robin, I believe my offer would be interesting for you.”

For some reason, perhaps because of all the strange things that happened, the fact that Nightingale seemed to know his alter ego hadn’t surprised Dick. Instead of asking how he came to know about this particular information, including the fact that he got fired, he decided to keep the conversation rolling on this supposed job offer. He had an inkling that he won’t get anywhere even if he asked, so might as well mine some information by making the other man talk.

“What kind of job is it? And what exactly would be included in the compensation?”

In response the man had snapped his fingers, and produced a file out of nowhere. He opened it, turned it around and slid it across the table. Dick started. Nightingale made a go ahead gesture, a smile on his lips once more. Dick gingerly dragged it a bit closer, and took a look.

“As you can see Nightjar, the position being offered is that of a courier. Due to many reasons, delivery across the realms is a cumbersome affair, not the least due to political complications. The best system to lay down in this situation was to have an impartial party be in charge of the work. You can say that I am a representative of the aforementioned impartial party that took over the role. If you would turn a page over-

Dick had dutifully turned the page.

-you’d see that we offer great compensation. In addition to your salary, you’ll receive health insurance, life insurance, death insurance, medical insurance, dental, vision care insurance, paid vacation time, overtime pay, paid time-off, flexible time-off, paid medical leave, free medical care, maternity leave, paternity leave, all other forms of parental leave, a good retirement package, loan assistance, wellness programmes, child care assistance, regular bonuses, promotions, raises, accommodation, a provident fund, and a whole host of other benefits that are clearly listed on the page. And of course at the end right there is our offered starting salary, which is highly negotiable up to the amount listed right below it. Please take as much time as you need to read through them.”

To say Dick had been overwhelmed was an understatement. He hadn’t thought that this was going to be an actual, honest to God job offer. If anything he just thought the entire job thing was an excuse or prelude to something much worse. But as he parsed through the file, getting increasingly bewildered as the man rattled on, he had to admit that this really looked like a weird recruitment effort. And then his eyes had fallen on the salary figure, and the amount to which it could be negotiated upwards, and he froze. Because even for the ex-ward of a billionaire, it was a ludicrous number. He couldn’t even accurately count the zeros on the thing. Even Wayne Enterprises wouldn't be able to match a deal like this.

At that thought Dick had felt a pang of pain as he remembered Bruce still hadn’t called him, or even made an attempt at apologising. There were no texts, no missives. Just radio silence. The pain in his chest increased and Dick had felt the ever returning feeling of being unmoored. He pushed those feelings to the furthest corners of his mind. He had to focus now.

Feeling marginally calmer, he had taken a deep breath and closed the file. He looked up at Nightingale who had been watching him avidly over the rim of a coffee cup which definitely wasn’t there before, and asked the most pertinent question.

“Why me?”

And now they are here.

Dick scoffed at the white haired being’s answer. Oh he didn’t doubt that it was the truth. By now he had somehow come to an understanding of how this worked. It was fae rules. Meaning he had to watch his mouth. Similarly Nightingale won’t lie, but he can certainly obfuscate.After all withholding information wasn’t technically a lie, especially if it was masked with a half-truth. In other words, Nightingale hadn’t lied, but that wasn’t all there is to it. And Dick wasn’t going to let it slide.

“How am I supposed to believe you to be a good employer if you’re already lying?”, he asked outright. You know, like a reckless fool.

Nightingale’s pleasant smile instantly froze, and then it gained an edge. A sharp, lethal edge.

“I don’t lie”, the man said, a cold cadence to his voice.

Dick could feel the figurative whetted blade on his throat, but he pressed forward. This was the first time he had taken blood in this fiasco and he wasn’t going to concede just like that.

“Lying by omission, is still lying.”

Nightingale’s entire mien darkened, and frost spread across the table. Dick didn’t back off.

There was silence. Suffocating silence. And then the vergals receded and Nightingale sat back with a satisfied air. Dick blinked in surprise.

“Good. You didn’t cower.”

Dick sat back on his own chair, his breath fogging in the still cold air. “Was that a test?”

Nightingale took another sip of his coffee. Was it even coffee? It looked like coffee, but who knows what anything is in this bizarre space. Certainly not Dick.

“It was a test. The position of a courier in this part of existence requires mettle, and a strong mind. You would be dealing with beings ranging from the divine to the demonic. I’m sure you know they are a stubborn lot. You’ll have to stand up to them often. Plus you would be representing Us. We can’t have an unprincipled, craven fool take the job can we now? So I had to test you. Congratulations! You passed with flying colours.”

Dick glared at the man. “I still haven’t agreed to anything. And you still haven’t told me why I was chosen.”

Nightingale chuckled. It was an unnatural, but pleasant sound. “Aah you caught that. Very well then.”

He clasped his hands together and put them on the table, bringing Dick’s attention to the black, razor sharp claws once again, as well as to the extremely ominous ring he wore on his left hand’s little finger.

“You were chosen because you are a multiversal constant. This job requires much interdimensional, interuniversal travel, and a multiversal constant is ideal for the role. And before you ask, a multiversal constant is essentially someone whose soul acts as a consistent axis across worlds through indelible aspects of their existence. They are rare, and their axial quality makes multiversal travel easy for them.”

The white haired entity’s eyes shone in the dim light. “You are a multiversal constant Nightjar. Centred around your potential, And also, I know you will agree to do the job. So I’m not worried.”

Even as he struggled to process what was just revealed, Dick found the energy to scowl at the impishly grinning man. “And how would you know? What’s in it for me? All I’m seeing is a job, the benefits of which, doesn’t make up for how dangerous it is.”

“But you will accept it nonetheless”, replied Nightingale with an amused air. “Think about it. You’ve been fired from Robin but still intend to continue being a vigilante, and vigilantism is expensive work. Now that you don’t have the Wayne coffers to pull from, you would have to find alternate means to acquire resources. You’re brilliant and I have no doubt you will find those resources and do spectacularly under your new mantle. But that would take time. And calling in favours that could either be used somewhere else, or make you indebted to someone. The salary this job provides you will allow you to finance your quest for justice, and still have plenty leftover. Not to mention the other benefits, such as the free medical care provided by Us, people who will never question your injuries the way a normal hospital might, or put your civilian identity at risk like a back alley doctor.”

Nightingale’s verdant eyes stared a hole through Dick as he spoke. “You wanted to get out of Batman’s shadow. This is your chance, Nightjar.”

The young vigilante had to give it to Nightingale. The man sure knew how to pitch an offer. He found himself agreeing to most of what Nightingale said, especially the finances part but he still wasn’t going to agree to a job that would put him in the crosshairs of gods and demons. That was just monumentally stupid.

“You make good points”, Dick said as he slid the file sitting idle on his side to Nightingale. “But I’m still not gonna agree.”

Nightingale slid the file back over to him without missing a bit.

“If I thought you were the type to easily capitulate I wouldn’t have approached you in the first place,” the man said, not a single sign of ire at Dick’s repeated refusal in his voice. In fact he seemed rather glad Dick was being difficult.

“You want to know more about being a multiversal constant correct? That is not the kind of information you’ll find lying around on earth.”

A pitch black claw scraped across the table, but there was no noise, and the deep scratch left behind instantly stitched itself back together, the tabletop pristine once more.

“By now you must have a rudimentary idea of the world you are being invited into. You would not have called yourself Nightjar otherwise. You also know that this is not a world Batman has access to.”

The man pointed opened his right palm, still resting on the table, and brilliant emerald fire blazed to life on it. Something in Dick’s lizard brain told him this fire ran cold rather than hot.

“Magic and everything associated with it is not something the Dark Knight can handle by his usual methods. And magic is just one of the aspects of our Realm. An infinite more mysteries keep it company. This world is yours for the taking. No mortal would be able to access what you can and you would be able to help so many people.”

Blue eyes met green.

“This will set you apart from Batman once and for all. An identity that no one can take away from you at their whim. Just think of this as your day job, as being a CEO is for Bruce Wayne.”

Nightingale clasped one of Dick’s hands resting on the table and transferred the fire over to it. Dick stared as the flame danced merrily in his palm. It really was cold. By the time he had his wits about him, the fire had vanished. Nightingale had seemingly finished his coffee, as the cup was nowhere to be seen.

Dick glanced at the white haired man who watched him calmly. Then he took the file and started reading through it. If he was going to take this job, he was going to make sure to read the fine print. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spy Nightingale’s gleaming, triumphant smile. Dick couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

He didn’t know how much time it took for him to read the file completely. Time ran strangely in this space. What he did know was there was an ornate, silver pen right next to him, which definitely wasn’t there before. He had to roll his eyes at Nightingale's antics.

Nonetheless he uncapped it, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment, and signed on the dotted line in his Alfred approved best cursive, bells, whistles, hoops and all.

Nothing happened. Dick felt kinda disappointed. He had thought signing a magical contract with a possible fae creature would be a little less anti-climactic. Across from him, Nightingale chuckled as if he could read his mind. Could he?

He slid the file over once more, this time for last. Nightintingale just skimmed through before sliding over an envelope.

“Your appointment letter”.

“You had that ready?”

“Of course.”

Dick snorted inelegantly at that. Obviously the man had foreseen how this would go. That should make him more wary than what he was feeling, but just as he had known the fire was cold before, he knew Nightingale wouldn’t harm him. Bruce would call him an idiot for this kind of illogical thinking, but Bruce wasn’t here now was he?

He was about to shove another medley of complicated emotions down, when Nightingale reached over and viciously ran a claw down his right arm. Blood spurted in a gruesome display and Dick scrambled back, chair falling down, and his body hitting the surprisingly sturdy veil.

“What was that about?”, he shouted as he clutched his bleeding arm to his chest. Just when he had thought the man didn’t mean him any harm…

Nightingale had the audacity to look nonplussed. He simply brought his palms up as if to show he meant no harm, but it was a moot point when one of his claws was dripping with Dick’s blood.

“Just testing something”, the man said calmly.

“Testing what?’, Dick asked angry and confused.

In response, Nightingale simply pointed to his arm.

“What? Testing whether your claws could tear me apar-”

He stopped short. There, before his eyes, the flesh of his arm was knitting itself together. In mere moments, the wound was gone, not even a scar where it should be. Dick was reminded of the table from before. What just happened?

“What did you do to me?”, he asked, voice soft, and emotionless.

“Don’t worry. It's your compensation. Part of your medical aid.”

He waved his hand, and the blood vanished. “Do sit down, Nightjar. Lets order something to eat.”

Robotically Dick walked to the table once more. The upturned chair was somehow rightened, already pulled out as if waiting for him.

“That was a healing factor”, he said rather than asked.

Nightingale nodded unbothered. “Yes, you’ll be needing that in your line of work.”

The veil opened and admitted a two-headed woman in, carrying trays of food in her four arms.

When she left, Nightingale eagerly took up his cutlery, looking excitedly at what looked like a luminescent crepe. He glanced at a shell-shocked Dick and frowned.

“Please eat. It's safe to consume, now that you’re one of us. If you’re worrying about your job, don’t. You have been assigned an excellent mentor in Harker. The White Grim will train you well.”

With that, he dug in, clearly enjoying his glowing crepe.

Dick just stared at the man, at his no longer injured arm, and sighed. Might as well eat. He hadn’t gotten to eat anything at the cafe and was beginning to feel hungry.

He scooped a spoonful from what seemed like an overly fancy bowl of cereal.

One of them huh?

He took a bite.

#dp x dc #My contribution to the agenda of more Dick Grayson in dp x dc #Ghost King Danny kinda forgot to human #In professional settings he emulates Clockwork #He doesn't know that because of how he looks he seems more mischievous but dangerous Fae King than Ghost King #Nobody tell him #He just doesn't have Clockwork's ancient and wise vibe #The infinite Realms offer the best employee benefits in the Omniverse #Shout out to the real ones that saw my boy Jonathan Harker #our very good friend #thanking @see-arcane for the inspiration for the White Grim title #much obliged #Courier AU

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junespriince · 3 months ago

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descendant 4 wig thing, but it Dick changes hair and suit in each panel, and the villains are the only ones to notice. like small deitals from the finger stripes to full-blown discowing. batfam gaslight them that nothing happening.

#dick grayson #batfam #nightwing #they would #this is for my fae au bec Dick being of the fae would do this #but canon one too #they have magic users this would be so funny

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thedevilundercover · 6 months ago

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Also I can totally see Dick in the hesitating older brother role slowly getting dragged into fae stuff. It would probably take a while for Jay and him to have a good enough relationship for it, but I can see the little freak (affectionate) trusting him way easier than Bruce or even Alfie. It's such a complex dynamic before they even met. Is Tim still a baby stalker? If so, when in the stalking timeline would this be?

Anon I fuckin love you for asking so much about my silly little AU

I really don't want to spoil anything for you but I'm so excited oh my god anyway.

Dick is a weird concept right now, I think I'm going to add at least another maybe 5 chapter-ish fic just as Tim and Jason growing up. But uh it's going to be a while till Dick and Tim meet through Jason *wink wink*

Tim is always a baby stalker. He actually has met Dick before but Dick forgot him :( But he's pretty young still and never really had other people his age around so when he saw Jason he was very fascinated, like hang around in a tree watching him play and reading all of his favourite books fascinated

#fae tim drake #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #anon ask

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ghost-bxrd · 2 months ago

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What about combining Fae Dick and Eldritch Jason?

Except, Bruce is genuinely clueless. He thinks both his kids are baseline human - guy has no clue how normal kids work, lol.

So when Jason 'dies', Dick is mad at Bruce for letting it deteriorate that far, but he isn't too grieved. He knows Jay will turn up sooner or later, the only question is how pissed he is going to be.

That's the main reason Dick staying back to support Bruce doesn't work - Bruce can tell Dick isn't anywhere near as cut up as he should be over his kid brother dying. He acts the part really well, but Bruce has known him for years and can tell when he's faking grief...

Now I can’t help but imagine Bruce and Alfred brokenly telling Dick about Jason, and Dick just being like “oh boy, ohhhhhh boy, that’s just… super inconvenient. Like, it couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

Alfred: … young sir, this is a shock, but we must all stick-

Dick: well duh it’s a shock, he’s been badgering me about the play at the theater next week for three months now. Do you have any idea how pissed he’ll be that he’s gonna miss it?

Alfred:… I’m not sure you understand the gravitas of the situation. Perhaps we should call Miss canary to-

Dick: oh I understand alright. You have any idea how much time Jay’s been spending on the upkeep of his body? Called me vain when he spent at least two hours each day arranging each atom to conform to human growth norms. The audacity. But no, seriously, he’s going to be so pissed…

#Bruce and Alfred totally think Dick is in denial #or just plain up never cared about Jason at all #meanwhile dick: ok I think I gotta take care of Joker or my pretty forest is in danger #also wenn he collection of teeth #Jason is petty enough to eat them if he feels Dick didn’t properly avenge him #*sigh*#fae dick grayson #eldritch jason todd

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esfordays · 1 year ago

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Little bit of fae!Dick

#e #e’s growing insanity #digital art #fanart #fae #dick grayson #au #nightwing #fae au #I’ll write this as a fic if anyone wants that!

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mlim8 · 2 years ago

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JAYDICK ART DUMP 2 ------- [PART 1]

AKA people mentioned things in (mostly) the JD group chat and I drew them lol - and then I went back and made some of them nicer last night uwu

1) May 2021 - Xan said “thinking about the boys as FF classes” and Hex said “Dick as miqo’te and Jason as his tall bunny lad” lol I went back and realized that it was suppose to be Jason in Fran’s armour - I’m sorrryyyy I didn’t realize that’s what my ugly doodle was suppose to originally be lmaooooo he’s in like... super basic amour now lol

2) Mar 2022 - Wanted to play around with 3D models and tried to explain how I use them to @horseyw lol and so Bombshells!Dick came about

3) Aug 2022 - @elwon mentioned bunny/lingerie!Dick sitting in Jason’s lap but I’m only good for chibis

4) Oct 2021 - AJ said this would be a good JD couple Halloween costume idea lmao

5) Dec 2021 - Fae Dick after a song that @nerd-by-definition shared with me

6+7) April 2021 - Grease!AU Jaydick after @epistemologys and @nerd-by-definition were talking about it and Dick in a poodle skirt lol ;w;

EDIT: LMAO I ALWAYS FORGET TO DO THIS, THANK YOU @starstruck4moony I HAVE MERCH LOL

#jaydick #jason todd #dick grayson #final fantasy 14 #dc bombshells #lingerie #skeletor #fae #fae!dick grayson #grease au #miqo'te #male viera #dc #dc comics #jaydick art dump

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 1 year ago

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Run Faerie Far Away, Pt 2

Summary: Jason gets adopted by the fae (officially)

Pt1

Choosing to live didn’t make it much easier.

His dad was thrown into jail. It turned out that working all those long hours just meant more chances to get caught. When put that way, it really was just tempting fate to keep working in the way that Jason’s dad was, it was inevitable that it would all catch up to him at some point.

Which left Jason alone, in an empty house.

They had tried to throw him into a children’s home, but Jason left. Again and again, sneaking out every day until, eventually, they tired of trying to bring him back.

He was allowed to stay in his old home, at least until winter passed and it became less of a death sentence to force someone to stay outside. A child on their own was still a death sentence, of course, but one you could chalk up to being the kid’s fault if you were deep enough in denial. One that was less direct than throwing a kid into the snow.

Instead, Jason was left to starve.

He was a resourceful kid.

But he was still, above all, a kid.

There wasn’t much a kid could do to help out around town for free meals, especially not during winter. Especially not anything that wouldn’t burn more energy than he would manage to get from the meager meals he earned. Especially not when the cold seeped into his thin jacket and pants and forced him to shiver away any and all of the life he had within the hour.

He considered, briefly, going back to the children’s home… he could suck it up and let his pride go and show up on their doorstep, begging for food and a place to live that wasn’t quite so drafty, quite so empty.

But there was a reason he had left. It was the same reason why he had watched on wordlessly as his father got arrested. He was done with that life, would always avoid it to the best of his abilities, and if he had to run away every day, until the people around him finally got the point, then so be it. He would rather starve to death than have an adult stand over him with a raised hand again. At least this way he would be able to have some kind of control over whether or not he lived to see the next day. At least he didn’t have to walk on eggshells. At least he didn’t have to wonder whether or not this would be the day they snapped and finally went too far.

No, he would know, and there was something relieving about that. About getting to choose, even if the choice was terrible.

So, when his stomach grumbled and his pantry was empty of things to satiate it, he took his fate into his own hands for the second time in his life. He shrugged on his jacket and snatched up the basket and snuck out under the cover of night, as he had so many months prior.

The hole in the fence was larger this time. Jason didn’t even have to try all that hard to slip through. Silently, he thanked whatever animal for sneaking in, because his life was made much easier.

The path through the woods was different, this time. Less crowded, in that the trees and large stumps that had once made for a tricky trek were gone, making it easy to walk. The plants, however, continued their efforts to spill out into the path, their leaves just barely brushing against Jason’s pantlegs as he made his way through the brush. He hadn’t noticed it the first time around, for the outside world hadn’t been quite as different, but now that it was the middle of winter he realized just how much warmer the woods were. His eyes caught on berry bushes that shouldn’t have been bearing fruit at this time of year.

It was all unnatural, but it was inviting.

Perhaps that was just how the fae were.

Jason hugged his basket close to himself, doing his best to ignore the food that grew oh-so-innocently from every tree and bush. It looked amazing, and he knew that all it would take to grab something was a simple flex of his fingers (for everything was well within reach), but he wasn’t going to risk it. It was possible that things simply grew better while around the faerie because they were more in tune with nature, but that was mere speculation. He wasn’t going to eat possible fae food on a guess.

He stilled his stomach by reminding himself that, no matter what, the problem would be solved soon.

He pressed onward, his breathing carefully even. He wasn’t sure whether the fae were watching him – perhaps they had noticed him the moment he had entered the forest, perhaps it was more complicated than that – but he didn’t want to let on just how desperate he was. Being desperate meant you could be taken advantage of, and Jason wasn’t intent on losing.

His knuckles were white on the handles of his basket regardless.

The clearing, unlike last time, didn’t hesitate to appear for him. He saw it coming from a metaphorical mile away, and he breathed a tiny sigh of relief. At least, this time, he (probably) wouldn’t be jumpscared.

As if to agree with that fact, a faerie stood in plain view. It leaned against something that didn’t exist from its spot in the middle of the mushroom circle, as if waiting for him. They weren’t any of the ones that he had seen already, but they seemed to be of a similar species. Large bat wings were wrapped around itself like a cloak, warding off a chill that wasn’t there. He carefully ran his fingers through his hair, tugging out tiny flowers knotted in the black locks, and setting them carefully in bulging pants pockets.

Jason smiled nervously as he approached the faerie.

It gave a smile in return – a small one, lips still pressed into a thin line.

“What brings you here, little one?” They asked, pausing in their attempts to get an almost impossible number of flowers out of their hair.

Jason hesitated. “Not going to say hello?”

The faerie blinked a few times before smiling. A little wider this time, in a way that showed off sharp teeth. “I could if you wish. I find that humans don’t typically do that, though. Especially not the children.”

He frowned a little. He had kind of been hoping to make it apologize for being impolite. He had wanted to see if he could form that weird debt bond that he had accidentally made with Robin before, if in the opposite direction. Of course, it probably should have been expected that he didn’t faze it. Unlike the two he had met before, which were both visibly young, this one felt old. There was something in the way he looked at him that made Jason wonder just how much he had seen.

But he wasn’t going to admit that to its face. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’s fine.”

The faerie sighed lightly. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, you never did say why you came here…”

Jason nodded slowly. “I…” His stomach growled, and his face burned red as he hugged his stomach. The word ‘sorry’ hung on the tip of his tongue, and he snapped his mouth closed with a quiet click to keep it from escaping.

“I suppose that answers that question,” the faerie said, bringing a hand up to its mouth in an attempt to stifle the quiet snickers threatening to escape it. Their shoulders visibly shook with laughter, though.

Jason smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. I was hoping that I could get one of you guys to feed me.”

“I could make sure you’re never hungry again,” the fae said easily.

And Jason was sure that it could, but he wasn’t all that fond of the idea of immediately giving himself up to the fae. Or dying. Both were viable interpretations of the sentence.

“How about a game, instead?” Jason asked, thinking fast, remembering the first time he had gotten food from a faerie. “One of my choosing?”

The fae’s eyes seemed to twinkle with little stars. “Oh? A game? What are the terms?”

“If I win, I get to go home with one week’s worth of food – safe, normal, human food – and, if you win, you get to take me away like you like to do.”

The fae beamed. “Sounds fun. What game would you like to play?”

Jason grinned widely. “Pretend!”

“... pretend?”

“Mhmm! First one to get fake killed loses! Starting now!” Jason made fake guns with his fingers and ‘shot’ the man before he could react. “Pew pew. I win!”

The faerie looked at him with the most visibly shocked expression Jason had ever seen. Raised eyebrows, lips parted just slightly, eyes unblinking. But it was this way to an unnatural degree. It was such a perfect expression of surprise that it felt fake. And there were no minute muscle movements, no slight wrinkle of his nose or fluttering lashes. It was genuine, of that Jason was almost entirely sure, but it was still inhuman in a way that was difficult to describe.

Not that that was what was making sweat bead itself on his forehead.

Jason tried to keep his confident grin in place despite the nerves creeping up the back of his throat like bile. This entire plan hinged on the hope that the faerie wouldn’t interpret this as an insult and kill him.

The faerie finally snapped out of it enough to splutter. “Well, that wasn’t fair!”

“I told you the rules,” Jason said, careful not to sound too relieved that he hadn’t been smited on the spot. Maybe he came off as cocky instead, but what was done was done. “Technically, you also had a chance.”

He got a blank stare for another few, painfully long moments.

And then the faerie chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, fine, you got me.”

The basket was jerked out of Jason’s hands and his eyes widened as he watched the grass carry it over to the faerie.

He watched as it stepped out of the circle like it wasn’t there at all. Jason frowned confusedly. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be trapped in those?” He asked, pointing down at the ring. And then he remembered that pointing was impolite, and quickly changed to a vague gesture. He wasn’t sure if the mushroom ring would get mad at him, but damn if he wasn’t going to make sure that it had no reason to.

The faerie glanced over and smiled. “No. It’s best to stay in them, as that’s where our magic is strongest and we can get back to our realm easiest from there… it’s the safest place for faerie to be, but there’s nothing actually forcing us to stay there.”

Jason frowned. “The ‘safest place for a faerie to be’? Aren’t you guys immortal?”

“Do you think that the fence around your village is made of iron for fun? That the knife hidden in your waistband is of the same material by coincidence?”

He pressed his lips together thinly. He had, in all honesty. But he wasn’t all that fond of the idea of admitting as such to the faerie, who was speaking in a tone that made it clear they thought it was all obvious. And maybe it was. After all, faerie were said to be far more powerful than humans, and if Jason had been able to climb the fence then so could they. There had to be some reason why the people that had built it had thought it would at least give the faerie pause.

… wait…

“How did you know that I had a knife –?”

Jason turned around and found the fae was already gone.

He sighed and shook his head. Right. Faerie are weird. And they, apparently, have a thing for appearing and disappearing randomly. How could he have ever forgotten?

He sat down in the grass with a deep groan. If this was going to become a consistent thing (which he was pretty sure it would, seeing as he had only bartered for food for one week, and it was going to be just as difficult to get food next week) then he was definitely going to start bringing a book to events like this.

Though, as he watched the stars above him wink through the branches, he wondered, absently, whether it really was taking as long as he thought. He could swear that he could see the moon sliding its way across the sky. Did time move faster here?

He supposed it wasn’t the kind of thing that he would be able to ever confirm. Perhaps he could take a watch into the forest and see if it was affected, but he wasn’t sure about it. What if the watch simply broke? That seemed like the kind of thing that would happen.

Jason turned over in the grass. His eyebrows furrowed just slightly. If it didn’t break, then would it follow the strange time of the forest or would it continue to move at the snail’s pace that the human world always went? How would that feel? Watching the seconds tick by ever-so-slowly, letting time slip by without him being there to enjoy the life he was supposed to live? How long could he stay here without eating? Would he get hungry and tired at the rate of someone living in the normal world, or could he go theoretical days without eating?

Before he knew it, his eyes were drifting shut. This really was taking a while…

He would just sleep for a few minutes…

A featherlight touch on his arm jolted him awake. His head jerked up to find the faerie looming over him. It looked at him with wide eyes, the hand it had been using to drape a coat over him still hanging in midair.

He scrambled backward, uncaring of the grass stains that were certainly going to be on the back of his pants tomorrow, nerves eating at him. Jason pressed a hand to his chest, trying to remind it to beat at its normal pace. The coat gave him all of the context he needed, the faerie was just trying to be kind, but that didn’t stop his breath from coming out in frantic little wheezes.

The faerie carefully set the basket overflowing with food in the grass and held up a hand in a way that was clearly supposed to be placating, but Jason eyed the hand like it had personally killed his mother, and the fae backed off.

Jason curled up in the grass, his eyes squeezed together tightly. His heart pounded in his chest, but thinking about it only made it speed up even more, and he was sure that he would pass out soon if he couldn’t relax.

He gritted his teeth. He hated adrenaline sometimes. Sure, it was supposed to help you accomplish amazing feats you wouldn’t otherwise be able, but it wasn’t helping him right now. In fact, he was pretty sure that it was trying to kill him.

“Did you know that fae don’t have genitalia?”

Jason’s head jerked up to look at the faerie. “What the fuck?” He rasped.

“I read somewhere that shocking people can sometimes snap them out of a panic,” the faerie said, smiling weakly. “Are you feeling any better?”

The air was unnaturally still as he waited for the panic to subside. As if the very world around him was scared that he might break under the pressure of a single breeze.

Slowly, his shoulders untensed.

He took a deep breath. It hurt a little, but at least he didn’t feel like there were invisible hands pressing against his windpipe anymore. An improvement.

“I guess.”

He blinked a few times to clear the tears that had pricked at the corners of his eyes. The world was duller in color than he remembered it being, and exhaustion threatened to pull him right back to sleep.

“So… how do you have kids, then?” Jason asked, deciding that he might as well ask. Maybe, if the answer horrified him enough, he would calm down for real.

“Steal them, usually,” it said, shrugging.

Jason sputtered.

“Or making them,” the faerie added quickly, clearly trying to brush past that can of worms.

Jason was not willing to do so. He was going to open that can of worms and unpack it to the best of his abilities. “You’re telling me all those stories about kids getting stolen are actually you guys just trying to repopulate?!”

Their mouth dropped open in offense. “I have no concerns about repopulating. I adopted those kids entirely because I was fond of them!”

“Didn’t you use the death of one of their parents as a way to lure them in?”

The faerie hesitated. “Well, technically, he came to me.”

“Oh my god,” Jason said, shaking his head. “That’s so fucked.”

And yet a tiny, amused grin was making its way across his face. The faerie’s halfhearted attempts of defending itself were amusing in a ‘what the fuck’ kind of way. And he couldn’t really bring himself to be mad when even the faerie seemed to understand that it was a strange habit – after all, it was what they had chosen to throw him off.

Besides, he felt a little wave of warmth run through him as he realized just how hard the faerie had tried to calm him down.

It was quickly replaced by a wave of horror.

“Do I owe you for helping me?” He asked.

The faerie looked mildly surprised. But then it shook its head. “No. I did that for myself, too. Seeing you freak out was… not fun.”

Jason squinted suspiciously, trying to find the trick in their words. But it had directly said that he didn’t owe it, so…

He breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

His eyes drifted to the sky, and he found that it was starting to lighten.

Right. The very thing that had started this.

At least he had an answer now: his body still reacted at about the rate it would in the human world, he was exhausted despite the fact that he couldn’t have been out for more than an hour or two.

He made himself stand despite his exhaustion. His legs trembled beneath his weight, but he ignored them. He would deal with all of that when he got home.

“I appreciate all of this,” he croaked, grabbing the basket with shaking hands.

“Would you like some water, as well…?” The faerie said, still a good few feet away, eyeing him like he was an animal that was preparing to bolt.

To be fair, Jason just might have if he wasn’t so scared of coming off as rude.

He shook his head. “Don’t have a Deal for that.”

It hesitated for just a moment, looking like it very much wanted to say something, before it decided against it. “Then you’re free to go.”

“See you in a week,” Jason muttered under his breath. He headed out, trying to ignore the sharp eyes boreing into the back of his head.

And, indeed, it became a weekly thing.

Once a week, he would leave the village in the middle of the night to see the faerie. They said that he should call him ‘B’ or ‘Batman’, but Jason would much rather call him ‘Old Man’. The faerie in question had laughed a little at the moniker, stated that it wasn’t all that incorrect, and then had motioned for them to start their weekly game.

It wasn’t a fair game, not really.

You can’t beat a kid at a game of pretend.

Not that Old Man often found himself reacting in time to ‘shoot’ Jason first. He couldn’t say anything that was distinctly untrue, which meant that Jason could tell ahead of time when he was about to do something. After all, he would have to shove in the word “pretend” or “mime” or any other synonym before he said that he was shooting him.

That doesn’t mean that Jason never got ‘shot’, he was very much capable of being taken by surprise, he just never lost.

“I was actually wearing armor,” he had told Old Man one time, before shooting him point-blank in the face.

And he could have used that excuse for all of the other times he was shot, but where was the fun in that? Jason delighted in coming up with new, completely bullshit ways to ‘survive’ Old Man’s attacks. Maybe it was just a rush of satisfaction, winning was always good, but it might have also been the tiny, indescribable sense of warmness he got when Old Man gave him this specific, proud little smile he sometimes wore.

So, every time he came up with something new:

“I used a mirror to deflect your rays.”

The faerie raised his eyebrows skeptically. “I didn’t see you make a motion to block it.”

“It’s a big mirror,” Jason said, giving a mock pitying look. As he shot him.

Old Man was getting wise, though, so he said: “I have pretend-armor.”

Unluckily for him, Jason was far better at this than he could ever hope to be. He would have never survived this long if he hadn’t had the ability to improvise.

“Actually, I used a gun that is specifically made to pierce through armor.”

Old Man seemed perturbed by the very thought, but they had allowed Jason to have the win.

That time.

Another time, Jason had gotten shot, and was quick to tell them some unfortunate news:

“I had a totem of undying.”

It paused. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It means I can’t die.”

“HOW?!”

Jason grinned and ‘shot’ the fae. “Because I win!”

And so, that was how it went. For months on end, Jason would stop by for food once a week. He knew that the townsfolk were suspicious – it wasn’t particularly an easy thing to hide, that he was surviving far longer than he should have been without any people at home to sustain him – but he couldn’t bring himself to care. They certainly didn’t care, if they were willing to allow him to starve just because his biological father was a terrible person. As long as they weren’t trying to stop him from going, it was none of his concern.

So, a routine developed.

And then a routine was broken.

Jason was just about to take his basket and leave, as he usually did, when he noticed a hesitant look on Old Man’s face.

“What’s up?” He asked, pausing in his futile attempts to zip up his windbreaker with one hand.

Old Man smiled nervously. “I’d like to do another Game.”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Our usual rules, but instead of food I want to change your end to give you a coat.”

He started to point a finger gun at him, already prepared to win this thing, but the fae held up his hands quickly. “Different Game.”

Jason backed up a wary half-step, his eyebrows shooting into his hair. He wasn’t really scared of the faerie anymore, couldn’t bring himself to be when the man had gushed about his kids to him for hours on end on multiple occasions, but he was still a little wary. Understandably. Even the faerie admitted to his ‘adoption habit’. Jason wasn’t all that interested in having a dad at the moment, considering the last one had been awful.

“What kind of game?”

“If you win the approval of my kids, you get a coat. If not, you come home with me.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “That sounds… counterintuitive.”

.The faerie shrugged.

And Jason… Jason gave himself a minute to think it over.

He had some money saved up. Despite his late-night escapades, he hadn’t abandoned his daytime life entirely. He had been doing odd jobs around town, saving up for a good coat, for quite a while now. He would be very happy to use that money on things he actually cared about instead. Like books. Or some kind of variety in his diet.

And… from what he had heard, Old Man’s kids were lovely. If anything, this was all very much skewed in his favor.

Even more so than Old Man seemed to know. Jason was pretty sure that the two kids he talked about so highly were those two faeries he had met the first time he had gone into the forest.

So, he gave a careful nod.

Instantly, two people appeared out of thin air within the ring. The pair were half behind their father, their heads poking out on either side.

“So, this is the new kid,” said Oracle, smiling pleasantly.

“Still can’t believe you managed to find a new kid to imprint on, B.”

Old Man pouted. Which is a sentence that should have never been strung together.

“We were gone for a month,” Robin said.

“Speak for yourself, I was only gone for a week,” said Oracle, shaking her head.

“I’m just that lovable,” Jason deadpanned. And then he waved. “Hi Oracle. Hi Robin.”

Their smiles lessened just slightly and they gave him identically confused looks. The pair disappeared behind Old Man to whisper, and Jason’s face flushed. Did they not remember him? That was… well, he understood, they had only talked once and these people were over a hundred years old, according to the stories, it made sense that they might not remember. Still, it was embarrassing to remember someone that doesn’t remember you.

“I don’t think I remember you. Can I have your name?” Robin asked, eventually, his eyebrows drawn upwards in confusion.

And he’d sounded so genuinely sheepish and hopeful that Jason almost gave it to him.

Instead, he gave a quiet “Uh.” and clicked his mouth closed so he could glare with maximum effectiveness.

Robin gave a tiny laugh. “Right, sorry, it was worth a shot… but, seriously… I don’t think I remember you?”

Jason avoided his eyes, a blush beginning to creep up his neck. His gaze caught on the brilliant wings on Robin’s back. They were a strange ombre, going from red at the tips to yellow to green at the shoulderblades… which, he admitted, made the blue of his shirt work better with the brilliant reds and yellows he adorned himself in, but Jason would still put the whole ensemble in the pile labeled ‘Fashion DONTS’.

“Nice to see that you don’t have those socks on your back anymore, Robin,” he tried.

Robin jolted. He swung around Old Man to look at him again and gasped. “Oh shit. Oracle, it’s that kid from a while back. Remember, the one that I played chess with and had to give food?”

Oracle’s eyebrows knit together for just a moment before she, too, gave a quick intake of breath. “Right. The one that summoned me on complete accident.”

Old Man’s eyes widened just slightly in recognition. Jason didn’t know how to feel about the fact that, apparently, all three of them talked about him enough at home for him to be recognized that easily.

“You look so different now! How old are you? You’re all grown up!”

Jason frowned. “It’s… only been a year.”

Robin and Oracle exchanged another confused look.

Oracle looked back at him, her mouth opening to ask something. And then her eyes widened. She leaned closer to Jason, so much so that he was very tempted to back up.

“Oh… you were claimed by Talia,” she said.

Instantly, the other two started leaning forward as well. Jason was not sure why these faeries didn’t know about personal space, but he was curious, too, so they let him examine his face. Jason hadn’t noticed anything off himself, but something settled in their expressions and he realized that something was wrong.

“It’s your eyes that give you away,” Old Man said eventually, his lips pulled into a grim line. “They have a green sheen to them. That’s her trademark.”

Jason frowned.

A mirror appeared in Robin’s hand and Jason snatched it up instantly, leaning close to peer at himself. He had never much cared for his reflection, never bothered to look into it all that often, and now he found that he couldn’t fully recognize himself. His nose was more upturned, his skin more tan, and his hair was streaked with white. He looked great, honestly, he rather liked the look, but it wasn’t right. He had once looked exactly like a young version of his father, and yet now he could pass for little more than a distant relative of the man.

And, as he peered into his own eyes, he saw what the faeries had noticed: they glimmered with a thin green sheen that only just caught the light at certain angles. Impossible to notice if you hadn’t known to look for it, but definitely there.

And then he remembered those hypnotic green eyes he had seen so long ago.

“Oh,” he breathed.

Robin’s expression dimmed even more. “It’s true?”

Jason handed the mirror back over wordlessly, which was an answer in itself.

Oracle grimaced. “Uh… so… there’s really no nice way to ask this…” She got a few glares from her family, but she continued on nonetheless: “She helps her father rule the In-Between, and people on the verge of death are their domain… is there any chance that you found her in the same way you found us?”

Jason wanted to lie but, from the look on the three’s faces, they already knew. So, however hesitantly, he nodded.

The faeries flinched in unison.

Jason’s eyes found their way to the ground.

“At least you’re okay,” Oracle decided, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. It was a comforting weight. He leaned into it a little.

Robin nodded. “Though, I guess, this means that we can’t take this one,” he said, sounding like he had been denied an ice cream cone and was going to throw a fit about it the moment Jason was out of sight. “Man, I really did want a little brother.”

“Uh, for the record, I wasn’t intending on becoming a part of the family.”

Oracle snorted. “Oh, so you just gambled your life over and over again for fun?” She said incredulously.

Jason… didn’t have much of a rebuttal for that.

“But,” Robin said, frowning a little. “I guess you’re Talia’s.”

He spat the name like it was a curse. Jason wasn’t sure this boded well for him.

“It… makes things more complicated,” Old Man admitted.

“B. You can’t cause an international incident over a kid,” Oracle said, sounding somewhere between exasperated and fond.

Old Man looked petulant. “Watch me.”

“A would kill you,” Oracle said.

Jason wasn’t sure who this ‘A’ was but, apparently, he was terrifying because he was pretty sure Old Man went a shade paler. Which wasn’t possible for a faerie, especially not one as pale as he already was.

“I mean… I could always do that thing mortals do. ‘Split custody’, or whatever?” He tried, sounding unsure.

Oracle tipped her head to the side consideringly.

“But then we have to see her,” complained Robin.

Old Man shook his head exasperatedly. “She’s not a bad person, Robin. You two have to stop fighting over nothing eventually.”

Robin looked like they were going to spend the rest of their very long life hating Talia, but sure.

Old Man gave a long-suffering sigh, before turning back to Jason. “We’ll figure it out. It’s unfortunate that our little get-together went this way, but it seems you’re already acquainted with these two anyways.”

“It was enlightening, at least,” Jason said. He had a complicated array of emotions and thoughts that he was going to start sorting through when he got home but, for now, he decided to let himself relax and say goodbye to the strange three faeries.

Oracle gave a little laugh and patted him on top of the head. “I’m sure it was.”

Jason smirked and waved as she disappeared.

Robin was next to go back to wherever their home was. They ruffled Jason’s hair roughly, and Jason yelped out a string of curses, but Robin was gone before he could do anything about it.

And then Old Man started to head back to his faerie circle.

“Wait, you forgot something,” Jason said.

It paused, his eyebrows raised.

“My coat. Pay up, Old Man.”

And, despite himself, Old Man gave a tiny smile.

A new routine developed. He continued to force Old Man to play a game he was always destined to lose, that didn’t change, but now the long waits that took place while Old Man scrounged the forest for human food were made more enjoyable by the two faerie children that hung out with him.

Even ‘Talia’ started showing up from time to time. Despite Robin’s insistence that she was ‘the devil incarnate’ or whatever, she was rather nice. And she had a couple of pet tigers, so Jason was very interested in everything she had to say.

It was nice.

Nice things never lasted.

His father got out of jail.

Which should have been a good thing. Jason no longer needed to gamble for his life once a week.

But his father was his father.

Jason was honestly surprised it took so long for the man to snap. Between the altered appearance making Jason look more and more like a child borne out of infidelity and the messy house his father had come home to (because Jason was, above all else, a boy)... really, it had been inevitable that something would happen.

Jason was running.

His breath came in labored wheezes that steamed in the cold, winter air as he sprinted toward the hole in the fence. His father was running after him at top speed but, thanks to the man’s time in jail, the man wasn’t nearly as used to the terrain as Jason was and kept slipping and tripping over things he couldn’t see in the hard-packed snow.

Jason slipped under the hole in the fence, once again thanking whatever was watching him that something had slipped through – Talia, not an animal, had broken the fence when she had met him the first time. The hole wasn’t large enough for his father to squeeze through, and Jason was allowed to disappear into the relative safety of the woods.

Footsteps thundered behind him as he darted between the trees, gaining on him far faster than he would like. Branches whipped at the man, but he barreled right through them, adrenaline carrying him. Jason would repeat his opinion that he hated adrenaline sometimes, but it was the only reason he was able to keep running so he rather liked it at the moment.

He couldn’t keep running forever, though.

Jason reached the clearing, and he almost cried out in joy.

“Dick! Barbara!” He screamed instead. It was a wild guess, an assumption based on the things he had been told over the short life that was about to be cut even shorter, but he was rewarded by two faerie children popping into existence.

They looked like they had been summoned right out of bed, clad in pajamas and rubbing sleepy eyes, but they snapped to attention when their eyes landed on Jason’s father, sprinting up the path and shouting curses.

The man stopped cold when he saw the two fae.

A hand wrapped around Jason’s wrist and he was dragged into Robin (into Dick Grayson). A wing was wrapped around him, pleasant and warm and safe, and Jason gave a hesitant smile.

“What’re you doing?” Oracle (Barbara Gordon) said, her tone pleasant and yet dripping with venom.

“Jason,” his father ignored him. The two faeries stiffened just slightly at the name, but the man either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Let’s go home, okay?”

Jason slowly turned to wrap his arms around Dick. The faerie had his name, now, his choice in the matter didn’t matter. The jig was up. But he had their names, too, so maybe it canceled out.

“Maybe I’d rather be here,” Jason said. And maybe he did. Maybe, after all of these months, he had learned to rather like the fae that had become such a large part of his life. He didn’t completely trust them, but he didn’t trust his father, either.

At least they hadn’t hurt him yet.

“They’re fae,” his father said, as if he didn’t already know.

“They’re nice.”

“Of course they’re nice, they’re fae, that’s their thing,” his dad hissed.

Robin’s head came to rest on his shoulder, his eyes cold where they were trained on the man in front of him. He smiled – if you could call it that, it was more of a baring of teeth than anything. “You know, we let it slide when you people talk bad about us behind our backs, when you think we aren’t listening… but wow, I’m genuinely surprised you think that you can say this to our faces.”

His father sneered. “It’s a little hard to be scared of two random faerie kids. Especially not when I know your names.”

Wings crept higher, fluffing up in irritation.

Still, Oracle stayed calm. Her tail looped itself around Jason’s ankle, a comforting weight. “Don’t you know that you shouldn’t be rude to a fae?”

“What’re you going to do about it, Barbara?”

Oracle didn’t even flinch. She hummed lightly, her head tilting from side to side as if she were actually considering it. “Oh, nothing, I suppose.”

Old Man ‘hugged’ Jason’s father from behind, his arms coming to rest over his shoulders and his head resting atop the man’s own. He smiled, sharp teeth flashing in the moonlight. “You’re right that you shouldn’t be worried about them. But this forest has far more faerie than even you humans know about. And this is our territory.”

Talia leaned against a nearby tree, examining her nails with a kind of nonchalance that spoke of a battle that had been won before it had even started.

“Normally, I’d say that attacking you here in our domain was unfair… but I think it’s fitting. I mean, if you spend all of your time hurting what can’t fight back, maybe you deserve a taste of your own medicine.”

And Jason had thought he was the one that liked to play games that were already decided.

Perhaps he had only ever won because they allowed him to.

The thought was strangely comforting. They could have stolen him away whenever they’d wanted to, and yet they had refrained, because that wasn’t what Jason had wanted.

Now, Dick and Babs started to lead him to the faerie circle.

“Get him out of here, please,” Old Man said, his eyes never quite leaving his prey even as his smile softened, a pleasant thing made just for Jason. And then his eyes went cold again, clawed fingers beginning to curl in the flesh of his father’s side. “He doesn’t need to see this.”

“Jason,” his father breathed.

Jason glanced back at him.

And then he looked at the two faeries closing in on the man. Dangerous and angry for Jason.

His gaze drifted back to the two standing in the circle, their hands outstretched. Like two people helping someone board a boat, wanting to make sure that they didn’t slip and hurt themselves along the way.

He took their hands and allowed them to pull him over the boundary, to the other side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All Fae-n And Games Masterlist

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antebunny · 14 days ago

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a cuckoo in the nest

(part three. for @authenticaussie whose comments on parts 1 & 2 inspired me to write this. i might actually finish writing the whole thing now hehe).

Premise: fae!Tim AU where Tim's parents gave him to the fae when he was nine. Now he's twelve, part fae, and trying to escape the Unseelie Queen. He strikes a bargain: if he can make every member of the Wayne family love him by the end of summer, he can leave. If not, he must stay with the Unseelie Queen forever.

Meanwhile, Bruce strikes his own bargain with her: he gets Jason back, safe and sound. In return he takes in this creature of her choosing, which resembles a human boy. Of course he won't let it hurt his family, but he'll play along for Jason's sake.

[part one] [part two]

“What the fuck, Bruce?”

When Bruce’s eldest bursts into his study he knows it’s going to be a long afternoon. Dick has spent much more time around Wayne Manor since he brought Jason back, but he and Bruce haven’t spoken much one-on-one. So Dick approaching him now means he’s ready to fight.

Dick waits for the doors to slam closed behind him before he demands: “Why didn’t you tell us that Tim’s our neighbor?”

Bruce sighs and gestures for Dick to take a seat in the green velvet lacquer chair across from his desk. “What are you talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb,” Dick rages, “I know you knew that Tim used to be our neighbor before his shit parents gave him away. You didn’t think this was relevant information for the rest of us?”

Usually Bruce is pretty good at figuring out what line of thought Dick is racing after like the world’s largest bunny rabbit. He’s not subtle and in fact is usually openly cheerful about it. In this case, however, Bruce struggles to connect the fae in his house with anyone living in Bristol. He mentally sifts through all the information stored in his brain about the current and past Bristol residents (very paltry, compared to his database on the most effective acids and poisons) and finally comes up with Jack and Janet Drake, of Drake Industries. They’d had a son of approximately the right age of the fae–or what the fae appears to be.

Bruce reminds himself that just because the fae looks and acts like a human child doesn’t mean it is anything even remotely human. Like the Unseelie Queen it will exploit every weakness and loophole it can find in the bargain if Bruce lets it. That said, he is reluctantly impressed by the fae’s acting. Of course, the fae says and does things that are transparently unusual for a human child, but given that the fae is not a human at all, it’s doing a rather convincing job of pretending to be one. More than pretending, it attempts to stir sympathy and protective feelings from the other members of Bruce’s family through its lost little boy act. Worst of all, it’s working on them.

“Tim…Drake,” Bruce ventures.

Dick rolls his eyes explosively (quite the feat for anyone but Dick, for whom it is a natural talent). “Yes,” he huffs. “At least with Jason you told us you fished him out of a dumpster. Tim you just dropped him here without a word. I mean I’m trying to include him and stuff but…you aren’t exactly making it easy, B.”

Even though Dick is mad at him, Bruce can’t help the creeping feeling of fondness. It’s been a while since Dick sat in that chair, and Bruce had nearly forgotten how he sprawls, half-noodle, half-boy, into any container he’s put into. Dick has a way of being laidback and looking comfortable everywhere, even at galas where he is distinctly uncomfortable. In Bruce’s office, he looks right at home. When Dick was younger, he used to insist on sitting in the chair even though his feet dangled half a foot off the ground, determined to be grown-up and taken seriously. Now he overflows, draping himself over and around an old wooden chair that no longer fits him.

The memories remind Bruce exactly of what exactly is at stake here. It’s no longer just Jason. Dick, Alfred, even Barbara who is spiritually his, and the mantle of Batman depend upon Bruce winning this battle with the fae.

Unfortunately, the Unseelie Queen’s bargain with Bruce has trapped him in an awful cycle. In order to protect Jason, he must act as if this fae is a regular human boy. But in order to protect his whole family, he must not only keep an eye on the fae but also convince them to be on their guard around it.

“It is not easy,” Bruce enunciates carefully.

Dick rolls his eyes again. “Boys, you have a new little brother, his name is Tim Drake, I acquired him through dubious and doubtless wacky magical means. Boom. How hard was that?”

It is deeply distressing to Bruce that the fae has convinced Dick that it is Tim Drake. A lucky coincidence, perhaps, that the real Drake boy is approximately the right age? But why him, out of all the boys in Gotham? Bruce doesn’t believe in coincidences. He’ll have to look into that.

But first, he must rid Dick of his delusion. He has refrained from interfering with any of the fae’s interactions with his children of Alfred so far, terrified that he might jeopardize Jason’s life. Now the fae goes too far. Nevertheless, Bruce has faith in his children, in his brilliant, clever, caring boys. They’ll figure the fae out.

“It is not easy,” Bruce repeats. “It is…impossible.”

“Impossible to say what? His name? Where you got him?” Dick’s eyebrows knit together when Bruce stays silent. “B. What type of magical means?”

Bruce sits ramrod straight. He places both palms flat on the desk, brushing aside some old papers on WE finance reports. Stares right into Dick’s eyes. And says nothing.

“Ohhhhhhhh.” Dick leans back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head. “I see what you’re saying. Or what you’re not saying. I’m picking up what you’re putting down.” He waggles a finger at Bruce, frown replaced with his typical cheeky smile. “Don’t worry B, me and Babs are on the case. We’ll figure this out for you no prob.”

“Hnnnnn,” Bruce says neutrally.

“Hehe, I knew you couldn’t suck that much at communicating.” Dick springs up and leaves the office whistling what seems to be birdsong, in a much better mood than when he entered.

As soon as the doors close again, Bruce sinks into his chair with a deep sigh. Dick knows something is awry. He’ll get Barbara, perhaps his friends on the Titans, and definitely Jason whenever he finds out, to solve the mystery for Bruce. He has faith in them. He taught Dick everything that he knows, and Dick is plenty innovative on his own. If nothing else, his establishment as Nightwing has proven that he can roll with the best of the best. Bruce is unbearably proud of his kid. Now he just hopes it is enough.

Bruce is nearly certain he did nothing to imply that the fae is not human. Perhaps he implied that the fae was “acquired,” as Dick put it, through magical means, but that by no means implies that the fae itself is not human. It isn’t, of course, but that is for Dick to find out through no suggestion or help on Bruce’s part.

He knows that Dick will agree with his decision to bargain their safety for Jason’s safe return. The only person he suspects might disagree is Jason himself. Already he can picture Jason lecturing him if and when he finds out: accusing Bruce of doing it for himself, of being unbearably selfish, of forcing Jason to bear a responsibility he never asked for. And Bruce will bear it all because it’s all true. He saw a way to have his son back without having to break his moral code and he seized it. Jason can call it self-serving and hate Bruce all he wants, because Bruce would do it again in a heartbeat.

“So, Timmy,” Dick says casually, “are you a metahuman or what?”

Barbara, Dick and Tim are in the middle of a near-empty Staples when Dick pops out with his invasive question. They’re shopping for school supplies, since come fall Tim will need to go to school. Bruce has registered him, through a combination of fake and real forms, for Gotham Academy. Tim’s memories of school were his first to go from Before, when he was purely human. Needless to say he’s not looking forward to school again. But he’ll be going with Jason, and maybe they can talk about it even though they’ll be three grades apart. He’ll get to know kids his age who will learn his name and never think twice about using it. Anything that makes Tim more human is a good thing, in his book.

“Dick, for the love of God,” Barbara groans. She casts a quick look around the Staples. Luckily, no one is around to hear.

Sometimes she wonders how she got caught up in not one but two school shopping trips for Dick’s little brothers. No less than eight employees and customers at the various stores they’ve stopped at have given them strange looks, no doubt thinking that Dick and Barbara are a tragically young couple to have a kid Tim’s age. She isn’t sure who would be most embarrassed if she corrected them, so she said nothing.

The truth, that Barbara is a freshman in college taking her high school boyfriend’s new kid brother shopping, potentially sounds stranger. Add in the part where they’re trying to acclimate the kid to human society, and Barbara’s certain she’d be kicked out of the store.

“What?” Dick protests. “I have a deal with B. C’mon Timmy, you don’t want your favorite big brother to lose to the big bad B, do you?”

“A deal?” Tim warbles.

“Yeah,” Dick persists doggedly. He still hasn’t figured out what triggers Tim, so for now he continues until Tim comes to some internal resolution. “He doesn’t think I can figure it out. C’mon Tim, my ego’s on the line here.”

Tim stares at the blue spiral notebook in his hands. Both Dick and Barbara lean in, anticipatory, as he turns it over and over. Despite Barbara’s reservations about Dick’s timing and bluntness, she’s also desperately curious about where the new kid comes from. All he has been able to tell her so far is that Bruce seems to have sworn some kind of oath not to talk about the details.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Barbara adds, only a little reluctantly. “But you know, no matter if you’re an alien or a cyborg or a sentient piece of mud, you’re a part of the family, right?” She gestures in a wide circle, to encapsulate the absurdity of their situation.

Two first-year college students, arms full of Ticonderoga pencils, notebooks, binders, rulers, calculators and the like, all for a not-quite-human twelve-year-old boy. Jason insisted on getting his own trip, which really made Barbara feel like she and Dick really were parents with two kids competing to be the favorite. Jason also strong-armed Barbara into agreeing to a Dragon Ball Z marathon next weekend. She really doesn’t know how she’ll explain that one to her new college friends. They already think she’s a bit strange for still dating her high school boyfriend.

“I’m not…I made a bargain,” Tim whispers. He trusts them, even though he grips that notebook so tightly it folds over. Weeks ago he gave Dick and Jason his true name and they have never used it to make him do something he doesn’t want to do. Surely, if he can trust them not to use his name against him, he can trust them with this.

“With who?” Barbara asks immediately.

“About…?” Dick prompts at the same time.

Tim ponders over the phrasing until words lose their meaning. There really is no safe way to explain that he made a deal with the Unseelie Queen to secure their undying affection in exchange for his freedom, is there? No matter how he says it, he’ll be outed as the emotionally manipulative little infiltrator that he is. In the end, all Tim can do is shake his head. “If I win my bargain I’ll be fully human,” he evades.

“Oookay.” Dick attempts to fit this piece of information into his catalogue of Timmy facts. So far it includes “used to be Timothy Drake, age nine” and “my parents handed me over as part of a mysterious deal” and “I’m not fully human (anymore???)” and “Bruce can’t talk about where he found me” and now “I made a bargain with my own humanity.” It’s not making any goddamn sense. Dick has some amount of pride in his skills as a detective, and Tim’s situation is pretty thoroughly destroying it. The only through-line he’s found is an awful lot of bargains and deals. Which perhaps explains Tim’s overreaction to Dick saying he made a deal. Whoops.

“But you know,” Barbara jumps in again, “you don’t have to be fully hu–”

“I want to be,” Tim cries. “I want it back. I will be–”

Someone clears their throat. At the end of the notebooks aisle, a Staples employee points at the analog clock on the western wall. It’s rather unhelpful as a visual signal, since only Barbara can read it.

“It’s almost closing time,” the employee explains delicately. They look anywhere but Tim’s teary face or Barbara and Dick holding hands.

“Mr. Wayne,” Tim says bravely, “can we talk, sir?”

School starts in a couple of weeks. Tim is running out of summer, but he has Alfred, Dick, Jason and Barbara firmly on his side. Last week Jason taught him how to make frijoles and tried to get him to read Jane Austen. Neither attempt succeeded, but the intent was there. Dick tried to teach him parkour, which went much better. His one remaining problem is that Batman still does not want him at all.

So he corners Batman when the man’s alone with one solid plan of action, a heart full of hope, and two shaking knees.

Batman stares down at him suspiciously. “Yes.”

He turns away abruptly and Tim hurries to keep up with his long strides. After so long in the human realm, he no longer have the floatiness they once did. By the time Batman makes it to his office, Tim is panting. His feet hurt. He worries and waits in the corner as Batman shuts the doors, shutters the windows, and manually activates enough security measures to shock Harry Houdini. Is he in trouble? He hasn’t even done anything yet.

Wordlessly, Batman gestures for him to take a seat. “What is it.”

Tim collapses into the chair. His feet dangle half a foot in the air. “I would like to make a deal.”

“No.”

“Please, Mr. Wayne.” Tim can’t cry yet, he hasn’t made his proposal. “I–I think–”

“I said no–”

“I’m offering information!” Tim says quickly. His hands, driven to distraction by all his stress, twist into pattern after pattern in his lap. “I can tell you what I can do and how the fae work.”

Batman is a regular human who operates in a world of gods and monsters. He works with the most powerful superheroes. He leads the best of the best. In order to do that he plans. He needs information, and there’s only one area where Tim knows more than him.

Batman’s eyes narrow. “And what do you want in return?”

The same love and affection he gives so freely to Dick and Jason. But Tim knows better than to ask for that. That’s why he’s proposing this deal in the first place. He can’t trick Batman into loving him the same way he tricked the others, but maybe he can offer his services. Maybe if Tim is useful enough, good enough, that will be enough for Tim to get to stay. So instead:

“A Nikon D850,” Tim answers. “It’s a camera, sir. For nighttime photography.”

For a tortuously long moment, Batman just stares at him with that dark, unreadable expression. There isn’t a hint of emotion, much less affection, in his eyes. Tim’s hands flap around loudly. He jams them under his thighs to quiet them.

“Done,” Batman says tonelessly. “Now tell me everything you know. And,” he adds, voice dropping to a growl, “I will know if you’re lying.”

Despite his promises to himself, something hot stings Tim’s eyes and tickles the back of his throat. He’s not sure if Batman has magic powers, but he doesn’t doubt the threat for a second.

“Right,” Tim acknowledges, only a half-step from crying. “Well. I was born Tim Drake. When–”

“I know you purport to be Timothy Drake.”

Tim’s shoulders hitch. Batman’s interruption cuts, paper-cut-like, into his thin skin. One wrong word from flinching, one quarter step from crying.

Batman pins him to the chair with cold eyes. “I already said I will know if you’re lying. Try again.”

It’s so unfair that Tim almost bursts into tears just from frustration. Just because his parents sold away his right to be Timothy Drake doesn’t mean that he wasn’t born human. But he knows better than to argue with Batman, so he takes his second chance and changes the subject.

“Yessir. Sorry, sir. I can teach you how to find fairy circles,” Tim offers. “The trick is not to look for something out of place. ‘One may enter the realm of the fae wherever the–”

“–Wherever the wild and mundane meet,” Batman interrupts, voice so flat he sounds bored. Unspoken is the order: tell me something I don’t already know.

Tim had forgotten that Batman journeyed to the fae realm by himself. It isn’t as though he stumbled upon a fairy circle by accident and decided to strike up a deal with the Unseelie Queen. He must have researched how to locate fairy circles by himself. He’s Batman. What in the world can Tim possibly tell him that he doesn’t already know?

“I can tell you about the abilities of the fae in the human realm,” Tim suggests, nearly despairing. “We can commune with plants. We are more in tune with the weather. We can, um, float a little. Sometimes. I think I can also make people not notice me. It’s like a veil on people’s senses. Like I’m always in their per-fory–per-fi-fory–periphery vision–”

“You can also make plants grow a little fast,” Batman interrupts for the third time. “You sometimes cause video footage of you to corrupt. You attract the loyalty of animals, both wild and domesticated.” His lip curls. “You are a superb actor.”

Somehow Tim doesn’t feel complimented. The underlying dark tone to Batman’s observations is I told you I was watching you. But it is the lip curl, a small, nearly intangible action, that finally breaks Tim, not a word or even anything serious. Just the slight hint of a sneer on Batman’s face even though the Unseelie Queen has accustomed Tim to far worse condescension and Batman isn’t even wrong to judge him. Hasn’t he tricked the rest of Batman’s family into loving him with his acting?

Tim squeezes his eyes shut. A tear escapes and leaves a cold trail on his cheek as it snakes its way to his chin. He fights the urge to vomit. “I can teach you how to use a fae’s true name against them,” he whispers.

When he opens his eyes, Batman is watching him cry with a blank, apathetic face.

“To test that,” Mr. Wayne says slowly, “I’ll need to use yours.”

All at once Tim is struck by the childish desire to close his eyes and wish himself into a world where Batman never looks at him like a dangerous, evil, life-sucking parasite. Wants so dearly to deny the existence of this world where he must replace the Unseelie Queen with his hero. But Batman demands it must be so. Declares that Tim has no other use. So Tim trembles and shakes and falls apart in that oversized lacquer chair until he’s cried his little heart out, but in the end he gives Batman what he wants.

“I understand, sir,” Tim says miserably.

It won’t be forever, Tim vows to himself. If Mr. Wayne accepts him, if Tim is allowed to stay, then one day he will be fully human again. One day his name will hold no power over him than it would over any human. Mr. Wayne doesn’t want to use it like the Unseelie Queen does anyways, he just wants to verify Tim’s honesty, which is fair because Tim has done nothing but lie since arriving to Wayne Manor.

Even though it feels awfully cruel.

Tim scrambles through his memories to recall how it was explained to him. “A fae is under the thrall of whomsoever can speak their true name.” Then he struggles to verbalize what it actually feels like to have your name used against you. “But the effects–they’re temporary. It’s like…a rubber band. You can pull it into a shape but the moment you stop it instantly snaps back. And if you use it again and again and again then it works less and less and less.”

“Fae names suffer from diminishing returns.” Mr. Wayne looks just the tiniest bit amused. At least he’s not interrupting Tim this time.

Tim has no idea what that means, but he nods anyways. “And it is easier to command that which is easily given. The…effect is…quicker.”

When the Unseelie Queen says dance then Tim is swaying before his body can communicate with his head, but when she says won’t you stay with me forever, Timothy Jackson Drake? then Tim digs his heels in and refuses. You can be the prince of my Unseelie Court, little one. Drink the blood of stars, dance with the mad and the lost, and serve at my feet forevermore. Tim shudders and shoves the memory away firmly. It won’t ever come true. Tim won’t let it.

Tim straightens to the fullest height offered by the giant chair, acting for all the world as if he is making a business deal with an equal. “You may use Timothy Drake,” he offers primly. “Though it doesn’t work very well on me.”

“But of course.” Bruce assumes that this is because Timothy Drake is the assumed name of a fae who refuses to give Bruce its true name. He cannot say he blames it. “Stand up, Timothy Drake.”

Tim pushes the chair back and stands. He blinks. Feeling return to his legs as pinpricks of sensations. He sits back down.

For the first time, Mr. Wayne’s gaze breaks away from Tim. He casts about his office in search of a command which Tim would be reluctant to do yet doesn’t break Batman’s moral code. Tim, who had begun to recover his nerve, starts to tremble again. Mr. Wayne received the information of fae’s true names positively, so Tim became more confident. Now he worries that Mr. Wayne received it too positively. Where is his line? What wouldn’t he order Tim to do, if he could?

“Come here, Timothy Drake,” Mr. Wayne commands finally.

Tim’s legs move of their own accord again. They carry him around Mr. Wayne desk until he stands before the man. He may be a liar but he is not so good that naked terror isn’t written plainly on his face. He keeps his hands behind his back and lets them twist around and around out of sight.

“Now,” Mr. Wayne says. “Timothy Drake. Take a step to the left. Right. Spin. Sit. Up. Right. Left. Left. Jump. Down.”

The rapid volley of commands ends with Tim flat on his stomach, chin stinging fiercely from its introduction to the floor. His body interpreted down as fall on your face for him. He gets back to his feet unsteadily and waits for more.

“Take this batarang.” Mr. Wayne pulls it out of one of the desk’s many secret compartments. “Timothy Drake. Cut my hand.”

Tim lurches, batarang between his fingers, for one heart-stopping moment, towards Mr. Wayne’s outstretched hand before he gets himself back under control. Batman watches just as unemotionally as before as the batarang nears his unprotected palm, as Tim wars with himself.

“I don’t want to,” Tim pleads. “Please, Mr. Wayne.” His hand shakes violently. “Please don’t make me.”

“Stop.”

The batarang clatters to the floor. Mr. Wayne leans back in his chair, unaffected. Tim staggers back to his own chair, cheeks stained anew with hot tears.

“It feels like someone altering who you are.” Tim offers this truth in a last, desperate appeal to make Mr. Wayne understand. “It’s like someone possessing you. I know it’s not very powerful, Mr. Wayne, but–it hurts. It–”

Mr. Wayne raises a hand. “Enough.” His voice is just as gravely as before, but it feels a little more gentle. “I believe you.”

The next morning, a Nikon D850 appears in Tim’s bedroom. He leaves it on his nightstand. In a week he’ll pick it up and head to the streets where he first found Batman and Robin. But for now, the sight fills him with dread.

#tim drake #my fanfiction #my writing #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #dc robin #robin #can anyone think of an appropiate tag for bruce calling tim 'it'#i thought of misgendering and objectification but both wildly mischaracterize what bruce is doing #hashtag fanfic writer problems #dick: is mad at bruce #bruce: my boy. my light. the cleverest most special boy in the world. the light of my life #dick: i'm picking up what you're putting down #narrator: he was in fact not picking up shit #the poor staples employee was like. the polish jerry meme #fae tim

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