#i don't want tim to be red robin but he'll have to work through some serious trauma to let any form of robin go

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim can't escape Robin. It's a self-inflicted curse brought about by his self-sacrificing tendencies, his need to feel useful, his continuous labor to Bruce, and the cycle of abuse.

He could be so much more than the mantle he chained himself to. Unfortunately, he hasn't healed enough to find self-worth outside of vigilantism and his ties to the Waynes. He also may not recognize that he's stuck in a cycle of abuse when he's (as far as I'm aware) only been hit by Bruce once. All abuse is horrid and has their own perils. Emotional abuse can be much harder to spot or acknowledge (especially when compounded by their situation as crime-fighter leading to easier excuses for drastic measures ["he psychologically tortured me to make me a better hero"]). Tim will need to willingly set boundaries and build his self-worth in order to flee the clutches of Robin. His love for Bruce makes this process extremely difficult.

Batman needs a Robin. Bruce needs Tim. Until Bruce can function without a child-made crutch, Tim will always be Robin (Red or not).

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Like a watchdog at your door (like a veil over your heart)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.6k

genre: fluff kinda, hurt/comfort

warnings: hmm depression but it's vague, there's a lot of wolf analogy in this one idk, nothing too bad here honestly

a/n: guys I'm so sorry I'm depressed and it's bleeding into this I'm soooooooooooorry

When you hear the sound of your balcony door sliding closed, thumping against the frame with a quiet thud that resonates through your apartment, you know that it's for your benefit. You know that Red Robin could easily come and go without you noticing.

You do wonder, as you stare at the darkness of your ceiling, the blankets of your bed piled around you, if he'll just leave when you don't come out to see him - if he'll think that you're not home, maybe, and he'll disappear. You wonder if maybe he'll just walk away.

But you lay in silence, straining to hear any sort of noise, any indication that he's coming or going, when a quiet, gentle knock sounds against your closed bedroom door.

Maybe he doesn't know you're here. Maybe he'll go away. Maybe he'll - sure enough, the faint shadow of his figure disappears from the crack under the door and you roll over away from it, choosing instead to face the sprawling city and the ever-glowing lights of Gotham that illuminate the night sky.

When Red Robin's figure grapples into the side of your building, his feet propped up on the ledge of your window while he stares at you through the glass, you shoot up and stumble over to rip the window open for him.

"What's wrong with you?" you ask him bluntly, staring at him like climbing in through your bedroom window is the wildest thing he could've done. To be fair, it's the wildest thing he has done so far - as far as you're aware, he's never even seen your bedroom. You've been careful, of course, the two of you, to keep your conversations to the neutrality of your living room or the back alleys winding below.

But Red Robin isn't listening to you. He's grabbing you by the shoulders, instead, pushing you slightly to hold you at arm's length and let the solid white eyes of his mask sweep over you.

"Red?" you ask cautiously. His gaze snaps to your face and his grip on your shoulders tightens as he stares at you. There's a wildness about him, a quick rise of his chest as he breathes and a tremor running through him that isn't like him. "Red-" you start again.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, his voice sharp.

"What's wrong with you? I already asked that," you point out as he sighs ever so noticeably, letting the grip that he has on your shoulders loosen just the slightest bit.

"You haven't been answering your phone," he says haltingly, his voice low. "And you haven't been- I haven't seen you anywhere." You scoff and lift your arms to knock his wrists up and off of you, spinning on your heel to flop back onto your bed and begin to bury yourself under the pillows there.

"I'm taking some time off, that's all," you sigh. Red Robin stands, staring at you as you lay there.

"What?' he asks bluntly.

"Vacation, Red. I'm sure you've heard of it. I'm on vacation."

"No, you're not," he says slowly. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, bemusement flashing over your face at his peculiar behaviour.

"What, do you work in HR now? What are we talking about?" you quip, but he just continues staring at you.

"You're not vacationing," he says slowly. "You're right here."

"I'm taking time off is all I mean," you sigh, letting your arms straighten out as you lay back again.

"So something is wrong."

"There doesn't have to be something wrong for me to take time off, Red," you sigh. "It's just something that people do."

"It's not something that you do," he points out, finally shaking himself out of whatever panic he's been in so that he can take a step towards you. "Tell me what's going on."

"I don't… There's nothing to tell," you say quietly, plucking at a loose thread on one of your pillowcases while you turn your head to look at him, your brows furrowed and mouth downturned. "I just needed… a break. That's all."

"You knew I was here and you didn't come out to see me," he points out quietly, shifting ever so slightly on his feet. You roll your eyes and look back up at the ceiling, throwing an arm over your face.

"What, are you hurt?" you quip easily, but there's no response. When Red Robin's boots thud quietly across the room toward you, you know, once again, that it's for your benefit. You appreciate that, you realize, when you feel a weight sagging the mattress next to you.

"Not hurt," his voice is… quiet - gentle in a way that doesn't seem to fit the razor-sharp look in his eyes. "Just worried." That makes you lift your arm to look at where he's now perched on your bed beside you, sitting and looking down at you like he's some sort of angel watching over you. You clear your throat, shifting and letting your side press against his thigh.

"There's nothing to worry about, Red," you say softly, letting a hand come up to fiddle with the end of his cape where it sweeps out over your legs. "I'm alright."

"You're not yourself," he says firmly. You shoot him a look and he can't help but let his lips quirk up into something that resembles a smile at the mirth that flashes over your face. 

"I'm just a little tired," you offer weakly, and Red Robin hums in understanding, reaching forward to brush a stray strand of hair from your face as you hold your breath from the contact. He's here, sitting in your bed and letting his leg press against you, letting you smooth your hand over the length of his cape and letting his own hand smooth over your cheek. 

"You need to take care of yourself," he says quietly, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. As your eyes flutter closed for just a moment, it's almost like it's his own skin brushing against yours.

"I am," you respond stubbornly, and you're familiar with the scathing look that he shoots you. But you find that, these days, it doesn't have quite the same effect that it used to. These days, he's not so much circling you as prey as he's a wolf sitting at your door, growling and snapping at the outside world.

You wonder, with a fizzling sort of feeling in your gut, if you've domesticated him - if you've wrangled some sort of collar onto the threat that slipped into your living room and cornered you all those nights ago. As he lets his fingers trail from your cheek down to your neck, pressing just under your jaw slightly to feel the thumping of your heart and the steady rhythm of it, you wonder if he's aware that his teeth have gotten so dull - that his bite is so weak and his claws are so far back. 

"Why won't you let me help you?" he asks softly, smoothing his thumb over your throat as he stares down at you, black hair falling over his masked face.

"I think you're helping me right now," you offer gently, staring up at him with wide, honest eyes as you let him put his hands on you.

"You're not letting me in," it's not a question when he says it. It's a statement, laced with hurt and frustration and a hint of the biting, snapping jaws of a wolf that you once knew.

"Why don't you take off your mask?" your question makes him freeze, his thumb pausing on its trail across your throat as he exhales roughly and leans back to look down at you. "Exactly," you mutter as you roll over onto your side, letting your stomach press against his thigh. Outside, the sounds of Gotham float up through the open window and into the dark room, endless bouts of laughter and shouting and everything in between. It's the sound of the world moving outside, and you find, a bit dully, that you're content to miss out on that as long as he keeps sitting here with you.

"I don't think I know how," Red Robin offers the confession slowly - his voice quiet and halting as he lets his eyes trail away from your watchful, sharp gaze.

"It's easy," you say bluntly. "Just peel it back."

"You first," he snaps a bit, bares his bloodied teeth a bit, but his gloved hand smooths over your thigh where it curls around his back and it muddles the threat just a bit too much.

"…I'm not sure I know how," you admit slowly, closing your eyes and tilting your face to press into the pillow. You breathe deeply, for a while, letting the trailing of his hand over your skin and the sound of your own breath fill the air.

You swear - you swear that you feel his lips press against your forehead ever so gently, but when you open your eyes he's sitting up normally and staring out your window, nothing amiss other than a pink blush blooming under his mask. 

"This is nice, at least… for now," you offer quietly, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. He leans down to let you - leans down like a muzzled dog and lets you card your fingers through his hair. "Can we do this? Just for now? Just for a little while?"

"For as long as you need," he answers quickly - answers like a hunting dog obeying the sound of a whistle. "Anything, I'll… Whatever you need."

"Thank you, Red," you say it quietly, your voice muffled as you squeeze your eyes closed, willing sleep to take you, if only for a bit. And he stays, of course, like a watchdog at your door, and chisels his home further into your soul.

[filonikou]

I realized that my fic is so short I can put it here

The blob

Tim nearly fell out of the bed because his leg was tangled up in the blanket. He prepared himself to fall but with a weird pose, he managed to stand up. He couldn't help but gasp as he looked up. He was looking at the strangest sight he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a number of bizarre things in his life. 

As the third Robin, now known as the Red Robin, he felt that nothing could surprise him. But this thing looked like something out of a cartoon. It only could be described as a floating green blob. It didn’t really have a shape but strangely have something that looked like eyes, if you would call two black orbs eyes.

 “Uh,” muttered after starting for a while, “ I should have eaten before I went to bed. Now I hallucinate things.”

Walking to the kitchen and starting the coffee machine he knew that not eating wasn’t the real problem. Even so, he opened the fridge thinking that eating wouldn't make things worse, but of course, there was nothing edible in the fridge. 

“I have it bad. My fridge contains more samples obtained from the crime scene than genuine food. Alfred would be so disapproving if he know that this is where I keep the samples.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees the green floating glob. It was indeed floating rather than flying; he had seen people fly previously and this creature was not doing that; rather, it appeared to be in water. The thing swayed gently as it emerged from the bedroom. 

Tim began to panic; hallucinations had never lasted this long before. He saw things when he was exhausted, but now he was well rested, which was unusual on its own. But seeing things in this state was the first. He could see the glop right in front of him. Tim reached out cautiously to touch it, but his hand passed through without touching anything.

"So this is really a delusion," he says, shaking his head, "Of course, it's not real. Don't be a moron." 

He looked at the phone, which was left on the corner top, considering telling someone, but then just shrugged, "It will go away soon, there is no need bothering anyone,” chuckling softly, “Half of them would just laugh, especially Jason and Bruce would want me to do mental health examination."

He began drinking his coffee and making a shopping list, even though he doubted that he will actually go shopping. 

Despite having slept for a few hours, his mind was just not in the right place. Given that the green glob was still there, he was in even worse shape than he had anticipated. 

Overall, it wasn't too shocking; he'd had some difficult weeks behind him. Yesterday he finally solved the latest serial killer case, which had been ongoing for several weeks and claimed the lives of 17 people. In his mind, he cursed himself, thinking that if he had realized the motivation sooner, fewer people would have died.

But who would have suspected that the murderer was motivated solely by the victims' red shoes? Because the bodies were discovered naked, everyone assumed it was the work of a sexual predator, even though there was no evidence of rape.

All that remained for him was to write the report, which shouldn't take long. He'll then get some free time. Even then, he'd probably go see some of his friends rather than go grocery shopping. He'll eat the energy bars he got specifically for this kind of occasion. He knows himself enough not to rely on having food at home.

“I'll just go to the mansion to give Bruce my report before eating here, it will be good seeing him and Alfred in my civils not at night as a vigilante. Alfred's food always the best anyway.  And even the Damon brat isn’t home for the weekend.”

He tries to ignore the green blob, but it's impossible when it's in his hair; he thinks he feels it, but when he attempts to touch it, he can't. He feels slightly cold but nothing much.

“Ignire, ignore, ignore. It will go away if you ignore it.”

[hintofelation99]

The Justice League Hangs out with Duke

Bruce: Duke, it's time we had the talk.

Duke: Uh... nope. No thank you. I'm not getting the sex talk from Batman.

Bruce: What? No! The Robin talk.

Duke: But, I'm- I'm the Signal now? Isn't it a bit late for a Robin talk?

Bruce: Son, it's never too late, not for this.

Duke: Um. Ok.

Bruce: When Dick, Jason, and Tim first started as Robins they created a tradition. A tradition that continued with Stephanie, Damian, and now you.

Duke: And that tradition is?

Bruce: Taking down the Justice League. By being annoying and slightly terrifying.

Duke: OHHHHHH. Is that why no one from the Justice League talks to me?

Bruce: Yes, yes it is. But don't worry. I made an arrangement that will allow you time alone with league members to continue the tradition. You have a week to prepare.

——————

Duke: Cass, what do I do?

Cass raises an eyebrow at Duke.

Duke: For the Robin tradition thing. I have to take down the entire Justice League in a night using creative, outlandish, and original methods. But it's already been done by Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph. So what do I do? How can I be better than all of them.

Cass smirks: Take them down too.

Duke looking at Cass like she's crazy: What?

Cass: Take. Them. Down.

Duke: Holy shit, you are terrifying.

Cass just smiles and leaves.

-> One Week Later <-

Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, Aquaman, Green Lantern, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph gather in the Watchtower.

Duke: Hey guys, Batman just wanted to go through some training exercises with everyone. He'll be a little late. Harley and Ivy escaped Arkham and are trying to grow penis shaped shrubs in all the public parks. But, don't worry he asked me to go ahead and start with out him.

Green Lantern: Why are you leading this meeting?

Duke: Batman is running late and he wants me to practice leading meetings.

Green Lantern, glaring suspiciously at Duke: Are you about to do that stupid Robin tradition where you torture all of us?

Duke: What Robin tradition? Also, I'm not even a Robin? I'm the Signal.

Green Lantern continues to glare at him.

Superman: Calm down Green Lantern, the Robins never do this in front of each other.

Every League member seems to relax at this.

Duke acting confused: Uhhh, yeah. Ok, we have a few housekeeping things to do according to the list Batman left. So, I'll have everyone pair up for sparring while I handle these individually.

------

Everyone is in the training room working out or sparring. Duke approaches Tim.

Duke: Hey Tim, Bruce wanted you to look in to that Bludhaven case. Is that ok with you?

Tim: Yeah, why wouldn't it be?

Duke: Oh, I just thought it might be difficult considering what Dick did.

Tim: ...What did he do?

Duke: Wait, you haven't noticed? Oh no, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything.

Tim: Duke. Tell me what he did.

Duke: Well, Jason said that he replaced all your coffee with decaf.

Tim: THAT BASTARD. No wonder I've been feeling so tired! I'm going to kill him!

Duke: Wait, just stop! I heard that he hid all of it in Green Lantern's room.

Tim: Wait, why there?

Duke: Something about you being afraid of him.

Tim: WHAT?! I'm not afraid of the Green Nightlight! I'm gonna find that coffee then make Dick pay.

Duke: Oh, well cool, good luck!

------

Green Lantern: Um, what are you doing in my room?

Tim: Where is it?

Green Lantern: Where's what?

Tim: You know what I want. Give up now or face the consequences.

Green Lantern: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Tim: Fine. Consequences.

------

Steph, sparring with Duke: So, what's it like being the first meta bat?

Duke: Not too bad, but I could do with out the whole 'predict the future' thing.

Steph, laughing: What? You can not see the future.

Duke: I bet you $50 I can

Steph: Your on.

Duke, makes everything around him light up and uses a weird voice: In the next thirty minutes Green Lantern will flee the Watchtower in fear. Soon after Dick will be attacked by Tim.

Steph, snorts in obvious disbelief.

Steph: That was so fake-

Green Lantern runs out of the tower looking terrified.

Steph: No way.

Tim tackles Dick and they start fighting like three year old's on the floor.

Steph, handing Duke $50: Holy shit Magic Man.

Duke makes things light up and does the voice again: Oh my god.

Steph, looking excited: What?!

Duke: The- the sushi. The sushi you brought today, it's made from-

Duke pretends to choke back a sob.

Duke: It's made from the fish who was the maid of honor at Aquaman's wedding.

Steph: HOLY SHIT.

------

Steph and Aquaman sit beside each other for lunch, she pulls out her sushi and looks at Aquaman sadly.

Steph: I am so, so sorry for your loss. But just know that her sacrifice is not in vain.

Aquaman, looks confused for a second then sees the sushi: NOPE. Not this again! I'm leaving.

Steph: Wait! I'm sorry!

Aquaman leaves as Steph tries to chase him down.

------

Jason is laughing and filming as Dick and Tim fight.

Duke, whistles: Man, imagine if that video went on YouTube.

Jason, looking confused: What?

Duke: I'm just saying if the video of Red Robin and Nightwing fighting like kids ever got on YouTube, it'd go viral. Oh and they would be so pissed!

Jason, laughs: Too bad B would kill me if I uploaded this.

Duke: Yeah, I guess so. And you can't upload it here because then Superman would get in trouble.

Jason: Why would the boy scout get in trouble?

Duke: Cause he always uses his YouTube account on the Justice League computer. So it'd look like he uploaded it and B would find out that Superman watches cat videos while he's on monitor duty.

Jason, smirking: Huh, so you're saying if I upload this on the League computer I'd piss off Bruce, Tim, and Dick and get Supes in trouble?

Duke, acting innocent: Huh, I guess so.

-> A Few Minutes Later <-

A call from Bruce comes up on the main computer.

Superman: Hey Batman, what can I do for you?

Bruce: You, Red Hood, cave now.

Jason: What? Why me?

Bruce: Because I saw that little home video you uploaded of your brothers.

Jason: What, that wasn't me!

Bruce: I could hear you laughing while you filmed.

Jason: Dammit.

Jason and Clark leave for the cave pouting like kids.

------

Duke: Hey, Black Canary?

Black Canary: Yes Duke?

Duke: I'm sorry to do this on such short notice, but I'm very worried about Dick and Tim.

Black Canary: Why?

Duke: Well, Tim keeps claiming that Dick is out to get him. Something about Dick messing with his coffee? And Dick feels like he's just being attacked for no reason and is worried about Tim's health. Is there anyway you could intervene?

Black Canary, looking sighing and looking exhausted: Usually I have three days of preparation before dealing with bats.

Duke: I know it's just-

Duke gestures to Tim and Dick rolling on the floor fighting.

Duke: They really need help.

Black Canary: Alright, I'll see what I can do.

Black Canary attempts to intervene only to get pulled into the fight. Now the three of them are tangled in a huge, confusing fight, that's filled with yelling and hair pulling.

------

Duke: Damian! Quick!

Damian: What is it Thomas.

Duke: I think somethings wrong with Dick and Tim and maybe even Black Canary. They're all fighting and won't stop! Can you help me contain them so that we can figure out what's going on?

Damian: Fine. I shall help.

Duke: Ok, just try to herd them into this containment cell.

Damian joins the fight managing to get everyone, including himself, into the containment cell. As Damian is trying to leave Duke closes the cell. Damian angrily yells and bangs on the sound proof walls.

Duke: What? Sorry, can't hear you! My hand slipped!

------

Wonder Woman: Very well done Signal.

Duke, acting innocent: Hm?

Wonder Woman: You tricked Red Robin into scaring Green Lantern away, then into fighting Nightwing. Once that fight broke out you tricked Red Hood into uploading a video to the internet using the Superman's credentials. By uploading that video he caused both himself and Superman to face Batman's wrath. You also used the fight to trick Stephanie into annoying Aquaman to the point of leaving. Then you involved Black Canary in the fight, which was her downfall. And, as a final touch, you managed to get Robin into the fight and trapped all in a containment cell. You successfully eliminated 9 foes with one trick.

Duke: You mean 11.

Wonder Woman: What?

Duke: 11. You see, I didn't trick Red Robin, I tricked Nightwing. I had a week to prepare. In that week I convinced Dick that Tim needed to cut back on the caffeine and that Dick should help by switching all of Tim's coffee with decaf. I also convinced him to hide that coffee in the watchtower, in Green Lantern's room. So that was all true.

Wonder Woman: But, that still does not make 11?

Duke: It does. Because This morning I moved the coffee. I replaced the Flashes decaf with Tim's ultra caffeinated coffee. You see Tim has it specially manufactured to increase the caffeine levels. And, while Flash doesn't usually drink his coffee in the morning, he's always running late and forgets, he does drink coffee during training breaks. Which is now. So in about five minutes we will have an incredibly caffeinated speedster in the Watchtower. And since you're the only one around right now with a chance of catching him, that's your problem.

Right as Duke finishes Flash runs by, majorly hyped up on caffeine.

Duke: Checkmate.

------

Martian Manhunter: It appears that I am the last remaining League member.

Duke: Yeah, I don't really understand this tradition but apparently every Robin ends it by picking a favorite league member.

Martian Manhunter: Out of all the League members, why have you chosen me?

Duke: Your smart and have a lot of cool powers. Also, I dunno, I hear you sometimes feel like an outsider with the league. Cause, the whole martian thing. And I know it's not the same but, sometimes I feel like an outsider with the bats, being the only meta and all.

Martian Manhunter: You have chosen me so that we may bond over our lack of connections?

Duke: Uhhhh, yeah?

Martian Manhunter: Hm. Very well, I assume that this is your “Robin Weakness”. Apparently every Robin has one.

---------------------------------------------------

<- Previous |

[scorpionyx9621]

Robins at the Airport

So a fun fact about IRL me is that I work in shipping & logistics and I work closely with a lot of the major airlines as both vendors and customers. And it had me thinking. How do the Robins fly? (And no I don't mean with their suits lol)

Also I'm aware that Bruce is a billionaire. Bruce without a shadow of a doubt has not only a private jet but access to a lot of personal travel supplies. That being said, even though some of our boys have definitely flown on Bruce's jet. I have no doubt since most of them are adults now, if they wanna travel they're probably flying commercial.

I'm also a filthy ♌ Leo Sun ♌ and fire signs stereotypically love to travel. So! Here's the Robins and their travel traditions.

Tim Drake

Tim is interesting because he, like Damian, actually grew up with money. Like. The Drake's were in the same tax bracket as Bruce.

Tim likes to travel and has flown everything from small little turboprops to big commercial jets to his family's and Bruce's private jet.

I feel if Tim is going commercial he's that guy who arrives at the airport 4 hours before his flight. He's catching a 7pm flight? Expect Tim to be there at 3pm.

He's that person who can find an outlet by his gate, get some overpriced airport coffee and/or food at a standard fast food restaurant, and wait down the time for his plane to arrive.

Tim dresses pretty smartly but casually. Usually a button up and some jeans with some tennis or boat shoes that are easy to slip off in security.

I don't think Tim sleeps on planes easily unless it's a red-eye. But he does just spend his time on his phone or on his laptop either watching movies or doing coding to kill time.

Dick Grayson

Prior to inheriting all that fortune from Alfred Dick loved to travel and loves airports. Both for the people watching and the jet-set atmosphere.

Traveling around alot as a child helped out with that. The Flying Grayson's almost always traveled by car so anytime Dick gets to go on a plane he gets excited.

Dick has a fascination with Technology and I can certainly see Dick being a low-key Avgeek. Seeing how these huge planes carry hundreds of people across the sky through feats of human engineering is something that makes him smile.

That being said Dick is not often on time for traveling. He always either shows up WAY too early or he's sprinting through security because his flight departs in 45 minutes and he just got to the airport.

Hell even when Dick is EARLY he ends up running late for his flights because he always ends up eating at a restaurant/bar post security with the best views of the planes and loses track of time.

Dick has missed many a flight/connection because he gets lost in the moment much fo Bruce's chagrin. Granted dropping a couple hundred to rebook Dick at a moments notice is literally just a minor hindrance for billionaire Bruce Wayne.

That being said, more than once, Bruce has had to call a charter for a private jet to pick up Dick when he got stuck at an airport and he HAD to be on the last flight out from San Francisco to Newark or Gotham.

Dick can sleep on a plane no problem. None. It's one of the few times he does ever get truly good, restful sleep. Much to the shock of everyone.

Dick always wears something athletic for flights. Usually sweats or compression pants and a hoodie with tennis shoes. He always carries his Nightwing outfit in his carry-on though much to the chagrin of his family.

Damian Wayne-Al Ghoul

BRAT

He's that person I, myself, would hate at an airport. He demands to fly private all the time because he can't be bothered to deal with the riff-raff of us poors.

He gets better as he gets older though. He still demands to fly first class at a BARE minimum and will give Bruce hell for it regardless.

Damian may be a bit snobbish when it comes to trying restaurants but he always wants to eat before he gets on a plane because plane food is gross to him.

He's fine most times though. Like Tim if you plant him in front of an outlet and give him a sketchpad and/or his video games/manga he'll be fine.

On a flight he's always very respectful to the flight staff but he will use them for what they're worth. He takes full advantage of all the perks he's given. He's not old enough to drink but he certainly will take advantage of the snacks he can get (Damian insists on flying Delta because he loves the Biscoff cookies. He doesn't like many sweets, but Biscoff cookies are his weakness.)

Damian is way too vigilant to sleep on a flight. Even if it's a red eye and even if he's flying private. He just can't seem to find a way to be comfortable.

Damian is like Dick, casual and comfortable in dress. It's an airport not a gala.

Jason Todd

So fun fact: we actually have a canon representation of Jason on a regular flight from Red Hood & The Outlaws!

Boy literally wore a blazer on a flight while Roy wore a freaking Tank Top lmao. And he was uncomfortable with Roy's behaviors but flirted with a flight attendant and one of my personal favorite minor characters/love interests in Red Hood's lore, Isabel Ardila.

Jason is also like Dick in that he actually really enjoys traveling. That being said, being legally dead and not on Bruce's best terms means Jason's a well-versed economy traveler.

I read somewhere that Jason has a small personal fortune from the assassinations he's done. But I think he still chooses to fly economy when he can. He sees flying first class as unnecessary and would rather use airline miles for free tickets than free upgrades.

Is a master of getting crap past the radar (it's called checked bags friends. Also if Jason needs to move heavier firepower he knows it's easier to just ship that shit ahead of him.

He's like Damian in that he gets everything he can out if a service. Free pretzels? You bet. Complementary drink? Give him a coke with extra ice (it's canon he likes extra ice in his drinks)

He's always extra nice and polite to all the flight staff and any TSA he sees because Jason knows he's a monster and has to work extra hard to blend in.

[jinmukangwrites]

Dick and Dami Week 2021 Day 1

"Did you really mean that?"

-o-o-o-o-

After a bad run in with Two-Face, Damian asks Dick about things that were said.

-o-o-o-o-

The med-bay is silent, and all Dick can do is sit in an ancient plastic folding chair with his head in his hands. He hates this chair, it's uncomfortable and brings spikes up pain up through his tailbone into the entirety of his spine if he sits in it for too long... but for some reason it's a chair that no one in this makeshift patch-work of a family can throw away and replace quite yet. It's��the chair you sit in when you're waiting for the person in the cot besides you to wake up. Dick's sure Alfred used to sit in this chair for Bruce before Robin was even a thought. Just like Bruce would sit in this chair for Dick, or Dick for Bruce, or Tim for Jason or Steph for Cass or Duke for Alfred or.…

Or Dick for Damian.

Damian's in the cot right now, an IV shoved into the crook of his arm and a bandage wrapped around the top of his skull. Little red speckles dot the white material; the bandages will have to be changed soon.

Damian's in the cot right now. Hurt. Beaten. Bruised.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900148

And Dick's here in this uncomfortable as fuck chair, waiting for him to finally wake up.

This is his fault.

Well, maybe it isn't directly his fault, but he's... something less than a father to this kid, and he damn well considers him to be something like a son. It's been Dick's job and pleasure to watch over him. Being helpless and not strong enough… fast enough… to protect him is something he considers a failure.

He should have been stronger tonight. Faster. Better.

Instead he was held back, kicking his legs and begging, as Two-Face swung a bat against Damian's head.

Dick will never forget or forgive the smirk Dent gave him after Damian crumpled to the ground; his head already laying in a growing puddle of his own blood. Of course, that was the moment the mighty Batman had decided to descend into the abandoned courtroom with Orphan and Red Robin by his side. Dent didn't last too much longer, eventually ending up laying on the floor resembling something like a slab of meat under a butcher's hammer.

Dick's hands shook the entire way back to the manor. He wished he was able to make Dent hurt that badly with his own two fists, but well, getting Damian back to safety was the higher priority.

Maybe Jim will let Nightwing pay Two-Face a quick private visit before he gets sent back to Arkham.

A small, barely cut off whine brings Dick out of his tunneling thoughts. It's amazing how difficult and easy it is to bring a smile to his face as Damian lifts a fist to his face to rub one of his eyes.

All Dick has to do is sit and wait for Damian to fully come to awareness and realize that he's being watched.

"Richard?"

"That's me," Dick answers. He leans forward to help Damian sit up by placing a few pillows behind his back. Then he sits quietly as Damian composes himself, wanting nothing more than to bolt forward and wrap Damian in the tightest, most warmest hug to ever exist. However, Damian usually wants space after things like this, and if he wants a hug he'll find a way to hint at it.

If he even wants a hug from Dick, that is. This is Dick's fault after all.

After a few moments, Damian let's out his signature tt. "What happened to Dent?"

"Help came," Dick says. "Got us both out before major damage could be done. You'll have a headache for a while though, kiddo."

Damian frowns, which almost causes a laugh to bubble through Dick's throat. However, he keeps the fake/real smile on his face in silence as Damian looks down at his hands with a furrowed brow.

Eventually, Damian speaks again.

"As they were dragging me away... I heard you..." Dick's heart drops. "I heard you demand that you take my place. You yelled that you'll kill Dent if he hurt me. Did you really mean that?"

Dick feels his lips thin against his will. "I..." he starts, not really knowing how to explain in a way that works. He takes a deep breath and tells himself to just be honest with the kid. Damian responds well to honesty, even if the truth hurts more than lies. "Dami... I was scared... I thought that I was about to watch you be beaten and killed. If Bruce- if your dad didn't come when he did I don't know what would have happened. What I would have done. I... don't want to watch you die ever again. I would rather it be me."

Damian continues to look at his hands, picking at a scabbed scar on his ring finger. Dick doesn't know where he got that one but he does know he shouldn't pick at it. He doesn't say anything about it. He just waits for Damian to talk.

Damian takes a deep breath then looks Dick in the eyes. "I understand."

There it is. The hint Dick was oh-so-hoping for. Dick stands from the chair and settles down next to Damian in the cot, bringing his arm around Damian's shoulders and holding him close to his side.

"I was... scared too," Damian says after a moment of comfortable silence. Dick focuses on the breaths he can feel from the chest besides him. "But I'm happy it ended okay. I don't want to watch you die either."

Dick sighs and squeezes his kid a little closer. "Let's just both agree to be more careful from now on, then."

"Agreeing to be more careful won't stop bad things from happening," Damian mumbles through a yawn.

"No it won't," Dick replies softly, "but it will make us both feel better for now."

"Alright… I'll agree then."

Dick finally finds a genuine chuckle. He settles more into the cot and holds Damian as close as he dares. Which is very close.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, baby-wing," he whispers, unsure if Damian can even hear him as his breathing pattern has settled back into slumber. He says it anyway, closing his eyes. "And I definitely mean that with all my heart."

[fanghuas]

Jason Todd Birthday Week, Day 5 - Siblings

Red Hood turned a corner into a dim-lit alleyway and happily took refuge among the shadows, leaning his back against the wall and breathing hard. He thought he'd lost his pursuers, so he risked taking a moment to gather his bearings. He was outnumbered, and he'd walked right into the trap they set; it was a small miracle he'd gotten away at all, but he knew in his heart that he couldn't evade them for much longer.

"Hood!" Robin's voice pierced the air, far too close for Jason's liking. "Give it up, Hood! It's futile!"

"Great, yell a little louder so he'll hear us and take off again," Red Robin grouched.

Jason stilled, itching to run but not daring the slightest noise for fear that it'd alert them to his location. His pulse was ringing in his ears, loud and treacherous, and he tried in vain to slow it down. All he wanted to do was jump out of his hiding spot and fight, go down guns blazing, but he couldn't, not yet. Not when there was still hope.

Then there was a tap on his shoulder.

Jason barely suppressed a yelp as he whirled around, taking a hurried step back. He was standing face to face with Black Bat, her posture relaxed, almost lazy, like it was mocking him. Jason cursed. They'd gotten her in on this? Way to rig the game. Then his desperate attempt at escape had been hopeless from the start.

"Do not tell them," he implored. "Come on, Cass, please? Whatever you want, name it and I'll do it."

Slowly, deliberately, Cass held up three fingers.

"Three what?!"

Cass lowered one finger.

Jason's eyes widened and he took off in a sprint, heart hammering in his chest. At the first turn he took, he almost ran right into the Signal. Jason fired his gun, but Duke had already sidestepped with a laugh.

"A water pistol," he said, not bothering to conceal his amusement, watching as the water shot out of Jason's gun and showered the pavement. "You really just...shot at me with a water pistol."

"Fuck you," Jason returned, making Duke laugh harder. "What would you rather I'd shot you with?"

Duke shrugged. "I just feel like it kinda ruins the whole badass vibe you think you've got going, don't you?"

Jason wasn't stupid. He knew Duke was stalling him. But he was also blocking his way, and without looking he knew that Cass was doing the same from behind. The only way out was the rooftops. Jason eyed a garbage can positioned conveniently close to a fire escape, and was readying to make his move when another voice joined the fray.

"Give it up, Little Wing," Dick called out, standing smugly on the roof of the building that Jason had based his hopes upon. Tim and Damian stepped out of the shadows to his right and left. Jason groaned.

"Who're you calling little, shortstack?" he called back, glaring irritably up at Dick. "Get down here and say that to my face!"

"You'll be plenty short once I shatter your kneecaps," Damian threatened, coming at once to Dick's defense. Jason snorted and made a gesture that Bruce might disapprove of having directed at his youngest. Maybe some time ago Jason would have taken Damian's words seriously, but not now. 

"Five against one, Hood," Tim reminded him. "What are you gonna do, spray us all with water until we melt like the Wicked Witch?"

"I sure hope you do," Jason grouched.

"Can you not just admit defeat?" Duke asked. "Not that this isn't fun and all, but it's getting late and I want to eat cake."

Jason tilted his head to the side, humming in consideration. "What cake did you get me?"

"Red velvet," Dick said.

Jason pretended to debate it, but in all honesty, there had never been much doubt that he would find himself returning to the Manor tonight, and not only because he was lured with the promise of cake. It was just that he'd threatened to walk out of this kind of thing one too many times, and so they'd dared him to actually do it, and of course then he had to follow through. It was a matter of pride.

"If you don't come, we will be happy to eat it by ourselves," Damian warned.

Jason thanked him silently for the offered cop out. "Well, I guess I can't let that happen."

[brucewaynehater101]

Hmmm... Let's do a similar but slightly divergent thought process Tim might've had.

So, Dick takes Robin and hands it to Damian.

Tim, logically, understands this move. Tim is Bruce's Robin. It's alright if Dick wants Damian to be his Robin even though Tim thought Dick would've wanted that for them. Dick has always been one of the best brothers Tim could've asked for. Why wouldn't they fly together?

It's fine. Since Damian is Dick's Robin and Dick is now Batman, Tim can be Red Robin. He's still Bruce's Robin. That's fine.

When Bruce comes back, Tim will still be his Robin. It's okay.

The BruceQuest:

Tim Drake picking up the pieces of Bruce Wayne pt. 2

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

This shadow is not my shape anymore (and I fear it will swallow me whole)

and I will do the best I can, with the little that I know - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader x conner kent

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: there's a bit of conflict among the three of them but it's not so bad, uuuuuh actual hints of plot here wowie

a/n: womp womp established relationship flash forward wtf else is new

Tim has realized, over the passing months, that juggling a daytime life in Metropolis and a vigilante life in Gotham is just as difficult as you'd told him it would be. Realistically, he'd known you were right, but there was a stubbornness in him that had rooted his feet to the ground every time the topic came up. 

There was no part of him that thought he could ever really leave Gotham. Most of the time, he's sure it's got to be some type of curse - the way the city wraps around you and pulls you closer, closer, under. No matter how many times he leaves, he can't seem to stay away forever. He always finds his way back. 

That part, for some reason, you'd agreed with. Something about how the past always drags itself back to you on broken, bloody legs had made you drop the conversation. 

Red Robin sighs, rolling his neck slightly as a stiffness begins to set in, an ache that never seems to fully go away. Kon is in Metropolis right now, no doubt, being every bit the hero he's fought so hard to be, shining in Superman's shadow. Tim wonders if he'll ever fully outgrow it. As the figure of Batman passes over him, Red Robin straightens, wondering if he'll ever outgrow this shadow of his own.

"Bruce?" Is the only thing you say when you answer your phone, puzzlement passing over your features as you step away from the conversation you'd been in, slipping away to find a quiet corner to deal with whatever news he's about to give you.

"We need to talk," is his only answer.

"I'm - it's not really a good time right now," you say, glancing around at the S.T.A.R. Labs employees bustling around you. "I'm, uh, working."

"I know," Bruce responds firmly. "That's what this is about."

Tim is already home when you unlock the door later that evening, throwing your keys onto the side table and toeing off your shoes quietly. He's got that scowl on his face, that furrow in his brow as he sits slouched on the couch, headphones covering his ears and eyes focused on his laptop.

You think back to the conversation you'd had with Bruce, about his assurance that he'd distracted Tim before he noticed anything and your counter that Tim always picks up a bit more than he'd let on. As he looks up at you, pulling the headphones off his ears, you hope Gotham's streets are dark enough to bury your secrets for just a bit longer.

"Do you think Batman's better than me?" If Tim's words hadn't caught you so off guard, you'd have laughed at the way his hair sits, flattened under where his headphones were.

"What?" Tim just looks down at your bewildered response, fiddling with the keys on his laptop as he pretends he'd never spoken. Slowly, you move to sit next to him, picking up the TV remote and idly flipping through channels with the volume on low.

"I don't want to be Batman's sidekick forever," he murmurs, and you pause, letting the TV stay on whatever news station it's on as you put the remote down on the coffee table.

"You're not a sidekick anymore," you point out patiently. "You're not Robin anymore."

"I don't think I'll ever get away from being Robin," he says lowly, turning to look at you with those eyes of his, wide and sad and still trying to grow up. On the television, some news anchor talks about how Superman saved Metropolis yet again - and then goes on about some little Superboy trailing behind him during the event. You click your tongue in annoyance and glance over, but there's a solemn sort of grievance in Tim's face that makes you hesitate.

"Timmy?" You say gently, reaching to brush a stray piece of hair out of his face. "I don't think…" You're almost relieved at the front door slamming open, Kon's stomping and huffing distracting you both from the way you'd been so desperately searching for the right thing to say. When Kon comes in and sees the TV, he scowls more, slouching down into an armchair and glaring. 

You reach to turn off the TV, but Kon's already opened his mouth to speak.

"It must be nice," he says harshly. You pause.

"What?"

"Kon…" Tim sighs warningly and you bristle - there's something about the way he says it, like this is a conversation they've had before.

"No," you say. "What?"

"It's just that it must be nice, is all," Kon shrugs. "Not to have someone's shadow to live in." Something thumps painfully in your chest at his words and Tim sighs again, closing his laptop and placing it on the coffee table slowly.

"I don't think that's fair," you respond, and you can't help but wish there was a little less bite in your voice. "I didn't ask to have to do this alone."

"Yea, but you get to, anyway," Kon bites back, and you straighten as Tim shoots him a warning look.

"Kon, drop it-" he starts, but Kon's stubbornness, the iron set of his stance, is something that you're both too familiar with to believe that he'll back down now.

"You've said it, too, Tim," he points out, and when you look imploringly at Tim, he shifts where he sits and glances over at you.

"Not like that," he says to you. "I just - sure, we're both, I don't know… you don't have anyone like Batman - or Superman tying you down, keeping you small." Your fists clench where they rest on your thighs as your eyes flit between the two of them, Kon's hard look and Tim's guilty one.

"You're right," you say, biting your tongue like it'll stop your voice from wavering. "I don't have anyone. I wish I did, most of the time." Kon sighs, letting his posture loosen as he says your name gently.

"We didn't mean it like that. It's just…" He trails off, glancing at Tim for help.

"Difficult?" You supply, and the two of them shrink a bit more under your hard stare. "It's… what? Hard, having a mentor? Someone who cares about you, who's looking out for you, who's trying to help you make sure you're doing this right?" Tim shifts where he sits again, his hand twitching as he tries to decide whether to reach out to you, whether to try to help you through the hurt that he's caused. 

Kon, in his usual fashion, stands abruptly and makes his way over to you, kneeling before where you sit on the couch and holding your hands firmly in his. Taking his cue, Tim reaches over to smooth your hair down and run a knuckle across your cheek gently.

"I'm sorry," Kon says honestly. "It's not fair of us… to… you know," he trails off and you can't help but huff out a laugh.

"I guess it's human nature for us to always want what we don't have," you supply.

"I'm only half human."

"I know, you freak." Tim snorts at your words and Kon tips forward to bury his face in your lap, letting you pat his head for a moment before you give his hair a little tug, urging him to look up at you.

"These shadows you're in won't swallow you whole," you say seriously. "You won't let that happen to each other - and neither will I." Tim leans to press a delicate kiss to your cheek before resting his forehead against your temple, whispering an I love you against the skin there. Kon lifts your interlaced hands to leave kisses across all your knuckles, in turn.

"You won't get lost out there," Tim says, pulling away to look at you. "We won't let you." You glance away from him when he speaks, letting your eyes flit over your phone where it rests on the coffee table, your conversation with Bruce about the mistakes of your past that you've been trying to bury replaying in your mind. If either of them notice the waver in your smile, though, they say nothing, letting you rest your head against Tim's shoulder with ease.

"Well," you sigh, squeezing Kon's hands gently. "What could go wrong then, really?"