#ra's thinks tim would look good in green and gold

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Some people like to headcanon Damian as looking more like Bruce, some more like Talia, I like a middle ground, I headcanon Damian as a mix of both

I like to think he has dark/tan skin and green eyes with some hazel specks that come from Talia, his eyes's shape also from her, his nose can come either from her or from Bruce (so it's either straight or aquiline), his mouth is from Bruce (not too thin, not too thick), his face shape is from Bruce, his hair color can come from either of them, so it's either black or dark brown. His face proportions are from Bruce. He's one of the tallest from the batfam, around the same height as Bruce and Jason. His body proportions can come from either side, bc both Bruce and Ras are tall, muscular and large. And he would look good with a stubble, and somehow, having a stubble would make him look more like Bruce, but also more Arab.

He also has a suave deep voice, soft spoken, with a nice accent, a mix of Arab, British and American accent.

It's canon he doesn't like to wear suits (like gala suits, not superhero suits) because he prefers freedom and comfort. He's not American, so I headcanon you will rarely see him in his sweats on the streets. I like myself a man who cares about his appearance. So I headcanon his wardrobe it's full of clothes so simple that he can choose whatever he wants and still be comfortable, elegant, and put together. Damian is very edgy, so I give him rings, necklaces, even some earrings, some chains for streets style, all in gold. He wears mostly dark colors. Dark/cold winter pallete. Lots of black, dark green, dark blue, maroon, dark grey, and some white. His style is a mix from dark academia, edgy and e-boy, but never too much of either of them. At home, he's comfortable in pjs and athleisure.

Also the hair style I like to imagine him the most is short and buzzed on the sides and long at the top, it's hard to explain, but my favorite Damian's outfit and hair is exactly like this fanart:

Credits for the artist on the comments, and I found it on this link

And if we canon that after Alfred died he didn't get a haircut again bc Alfred was the one who did it, then I like to imagine him in Tim's long hairstyle, until he gets it buzzed on the sides and long at the top, to still keep the long part in memory of Alfred, but it gets so long that he's always tying it up, like this, and that's when he decides that too much is too much and gets a haircut again after years.

I also did him on picrew a few months ago:

Also he can have dimples. I wouldn't mind some dimples.

[meara-eldestofthemall]

Bruce Holds Tim To An Impossible Standard And That Could Backfire Badly Someday.

There are parts of the Batfamily fandom that don’t understand why Tim Drake fans keep saying that Bruce holds Tim to a different standard than the others. To help solve this, let’s take a trip back to before the DC universe started to mess around with it’s continuity: Red Robin issue #26. 

That's where Tim has concocted a plan so the man who murdered his father would get himself killed. The caveat is the Digger Harkness wouldn't die if he made just one choice that didn't involve hurting innocent people.

Unfortunately, Captain Boomerang has the moral fortitude of Adolph Hitler.

Harkness was just about to dispatched by Victor Fries when Red Robin stepped in and prevented it.

He tells Harkness to run. The idiot again makes a spectacularly bad choice by fighting Red Robin instead of sensibly surrendering when he had the chance.

When the inevitable happens...

Tim does the right thing and saves Harkness despite the moron trolling him and despite definitely still wanting him dead. At the ripe old age of seventeen he made a mature, morally upright decision that most adults would struggle with.

Tim. Does. The. Right. Thing.

Batman-Dick sees the fight and supports Tim, telling him that it took a lot of courage to save Harkness when he could have just let him fall. It’s a good, healing moment between the two (after the stresses on their relationship from when Dick gave Robin to Damian). Dick, better than just about anyone else, knows how hard it is for Tim to not take a more personal vengeance. He knows how much Tim has lost and what it costs him to take the high road.

Batman-Bruce is hiding in the shadows. What does Bruce do?

Bruce tells Tim what he did wrong with no acknowledgement that while Tim may have definitely toed the line, he never actually crossed it. He leaves the poor kid with the implication that Tim is a failure in Bruce’s eyes. Tim isn’t allowed to be anything less than perfect in this moment. The clear message is that no matter what Tim has done in the past or what he may do in the future, he will never be good enough for Bruce.

Oh, and the no killing rule seems to apply to Tim differently than any of the others. Jason has actually killed people; a lot of people (remember the duffel bag full of severed heads?). Cass has been forced to kill. Damian was raised in an insane murder cult. He’s killed people and even tried to kill Tim a couple of times in the very recent past. Dick killed the Joker (Not that the Joker didn't deserve to die mind you but he was clinically dead until Batman revived him). Bruce has left people to die, like the KGBeast...

...yet he reserves the worst of his scorn along with the disappointed Dad routine for seventeen year old Tim. Yes, most fathers would be rightly alarmed at their son setting up someone to get himself killed, even a hardened reprobate like Digger Harkness. The correct move for a caring parent is to then get the kid into therapy not castigate him for saving the murderous criminal from death. At the very least Bruce should have tried to convince Tim to move back home since letting an unstable teen vigilantes live by themselves is a recipe for disaster.

But that's not what Bruce did. He expresses his displeasure and then leaves. The look on Tim's face tells you precisely how he feels about Bruce in that moment. He’s about a hair away from telling Bruce to take Gotham along with Batman’s rules and shove them up his I-am-vengeance-and-the-night black clad butt.

While Bruce can and has been an abusive bastard to all his sons, he's being particularly cruel to Tim here. Tim did the right thing. His own moral code held strong and he didn't kill Digger Harkness. He didn't even walk away and allow the man's bad karma to finally catch up with him as Bruce has done in the past. Bruce is clearly holding Tim to a standard he'd never impose on any of the others.

Why would Bruce do that?

While the rest of the family worries about Damian being lured back to the League to become the next Demon's Head, it's Tim they should be concerned about. Bruce certainly seems to have consider what could happen if Tim went full-on Supervillain. 

Tim Drake is the classic middle child. You know, the “good” one who almost never causes trouble, who is often over-shadowed by more needy siblings. Tim gets put on the back burner constantly and left to care for himself. Tim is capable and independent not because he necessarily wants to be but he has to be. This is the continuation of a pattern started by his parents. It’s also left him craving parental love and approval.

Has Bruce ever considered that all Ra’s has to do is figure that out, then give Tim some consistent paternal affection/attention to soften his resistance? That along with some well placed half-truths (”You don’t like the way the League is run? Then change it, Timothy. Be the leader someday and all will follow your rules and moral code.”) and voila, Ra’s has the perfect Heir. 

If Bruce’s reactions in Red Robin #26 are an attempt to forestall that, then he's doing it wrong - really, really wrong. If Bruce doesn’t stop holding Tim to impossible standards then he just might end up creating what he tells himself he’s trying to prevent. 

[bad4amficideas]

Earth 1T8 random HC's

(long post)

Note: English is not my language, so I hope you will be understanding of any flaws you find.

🦇 Y/N Wayne has been training since their new parents died. Alfred is a platonic yandere. So no, they don't disappear for 9 years, much less without giving any signs!!!! although the Al Ghul held them for a season where, of course, they continued training.

🦇 Alfred is papa you MUST love him because I said so, also his influence shows. In this home, because is not a house neither a mansion, is a hOMe, there is a point where killing is okay (especially if the other option is to make someone paraplegic or comatose or torture them for a lifetime, or make them Joker 2.0 says Reader, inadvertently giving their yanderes ideas). Self-demonstrated with the death of the Joker.

🦇 Reader literally throws that taunt at Batman from the original reality when he tries to censure them for killing Joker.

🦇 This led Harley Quinn to become their best friend... After the first one will go through a Mourning Time and improve her mental health realizing that the Bat had done her and the world a favor. Plus Reader got a free therapist and actual nice friend.

🦇 In fact, the cowl had all of that on tape and both Harley and Jason see those and the warehouse cameras from time to time, which doesn't speak highly of their mental health. Jason focuses more on Reader's suffering "they loves me, they loves me, they loves me".

🦇 And then somehow Ivy ended up in the mix of HarBat/ BatHar. And sometimes Selina. Well, at least that way they don't get into trouble (I lied they do, but without killing anyone which is better than nothing). Pamela works for Waynes Enterprises (and not as a biologist but dismantling organizations that harm the environment so that Wayne attorneys have work) and although Harley is no longer practicing she sometimes writes articles under another name and is happy with her daughter and girlfriend/s. They all keep destroying things and Selina keeps stealing so Reader goes after them paying damage and telling themselves that human lives are priceless.

🦇 Ra's Al Ghul and Tim Wayne are friends and enemies in the purest Charles Xavier and Eric Lehnsherr style but none good; yes including chess, although they also play shogi, go, chaturanga, janggi, xiangqi, markuk and senet via Ra's knowledge. It isn't uncommon for they play several at the same time.

🦇 Reader is ready to yell "mea culpa" if Tim Wayne rises one day as King of the World. Part of themselves would not be surprised at all but they will still look ugly at Ra's.

🦇 I hope I not surprise anyone, I already said that Tim had to do with Jason's resurrection, how do you think that happened? Here our Drake can take a player or two more to his dungeon game easyly.

🦇 Ric, aka Dick has tainted eyes with hot shiny gold details that seem to grow or not with his emotions from the crap the Court do to the Talons.

🦇 Something similar happens to Jason but in green 'cause Lazarus Pit. And his green doesn't vary and shine that creepyly.

🦇 Right now Ric is just a Talon (nº1 but Talon noneless) and has no pretense of anything else, like, why? but only as long as none stick their noses in his business (just tell him, SERIOUSLY, that he can't keep toying as now with his mousie, rat, little rodent Y/N), he might become Owlman and the new leader of the Court of the Owls and fuck them all.

🦇 I haven't invented the Powers family, they are canon characters, members of the Court of Owls. I only chose the non-dying ones that an IsekaiReader might have missed.

🦇 Every Wayne except Reader and Billy has thought about gouging out Ric eyes at some point. Including Alfred. Billy is more about cutting hands (not better anyway...)

🦇 There's a bet on how long Reader will take (or will) accept Ric on a date among the rich in Gotham. It's disproportionately large, whoever wins could get placed behind the Wayne family in wealth.

🦇 Writer here is sad to have made Tim and Dick super hot (from their POV) and not Jason's too. They promises to work on him.

🦇 I compare Yan!Batman to chessmaster and Yan!Tim Wayne to dungeon master because Tim still tries to make Reader have "fun" with him and his twisted schemes, which is why so many suggestions to adopt kids. And why, if Gotham runs out of villains, he is capable and becomes a new Joker.

🦇 SuperboyBat adoption was something Tim didn't count on, though. But since the batcave and his own place have lead and are soundproof... and hey, another yandere to protect Bat!

🦇 Speaking of SuperBat, I can see all the kids agreeing to join the various groups that Bat doesn't want to belong to keep an eye on them. Something like: Shazam and Hood in JL, RRobin and SuperBat in YJ, then RRobin goes to Titans and takes care of the League of Assassins in his spare time, Spoiler and BlackBat/Orphan are the youngest (minus Billy and tecnically Conner) training with Batwoman and usually cover Gotham when their lovely Reader wants a vacations and BatGirl/Oracle coordinates everything alongs Alfred and will support in terrain the team which needs it in due course because she's so badass she can be wherever she wants whenever she wants. Oracle is too the link with GCPD (here, we BatmanBeyond and she could become Police Commissioner)

🦇 Dark twist but Wayne and their "fetishes" for black-haired children was a media scandal for a really long time that had everyone at the Mansion with their teeth and claws pulled out. Cass hit someone in front of the cameras Although the bets on the house were that Conner or Jason would be the firsts ones in put a hit (btw Billy won the bet)

🦇 Also a very hurt Stephanie who actually dyed her hair for a long time, feeling less loved. This is when Reader joined what the hell are you saying? And put an end to all rumors.

🦇 The kids order of "age" by physical appearance ('cause Conner) here are: Dick (actually tiny age swap in comparison), Jason, Tim & Conner, Cass & Steph, then Billy. Better sibling relationships? Jason-Conner, Cass-Billy, Tim-Steph. First three in university or working, last three about to enter it.

🦇 At least one of the kids learned to play an instrument because they heard that Bat liked it.

🦇 Tim would have studied whatever is studied to be CEO for appearances and then more things for his own interest but not at public ears. Jason ofc literature and actually can legally teach and be both a journalist and editor of any kind. Conner has a remix of subjects that nobody knows where he's going (but it will not be journalism). The rest beg not to have to think about it.

🦇 In each Gala, everyone, each one of the kids regardless of gender, must dance the same number of times with Reader as Ric dance (to decontaminate them) Everyone knows that dancing with Y/N Wayne is a privilege.

🦇 And Cass and Y/N dancing is always worth leaving space and enjoying, like a professional show, apparently Cass is the best dancer.

🦇 And each one of Ric and Reader dances makes the viewers think someone needs a shower (and maybe are the viewers and not the dancers).

🦇 Reader can wear like only black/grey/white in the galas. Why? Because red (Jason, Tim, Billy), orange (Tim), yellow (Cass, Tim too, is greedy our fiery drake), purple (Steph) or indigo (Conner) and they will pout. Then with their relationship with the Al Ghul is, 99% best neither wear green... That leaves blues, but once Ric mentioned that he loved seeing Reader in blue. So, imagine, blues is a NONO, all children agreed in that. If they dresses in color they has to keep a calendar and make sure to go to a gala with each one of their colors on their suit, shirt, tie, jacket or dress at least once in the same year. KIDS!!!

🦇 So local our Bat might at times also looks at the local goth rich of Gotham City like, what a remedy!

🦇 Tim Wayne as his counterpart uses a bo (but his with hidden blades in both extremes) and also his suit has retractable claws (in both hands and foot), in that it resembles Talon's (whom has an infinite belt of kunais/knives and two sica -short- swords). Even if Tim hits you without taking them out, it's going to hurt.

🦇 Jason's suit in his protections looks very "knighty", in social networks they sometimes call him that, Gotham Knight, Hooded Knight, Red Knight. It also doesn't help that this Jason prefers knives and swords This Jason is still Wonder Woman fan, after all (and of course the hidden pistol so that no one sees the bullets coming, thinking that he's the knight who always goes with the swordfighting).

🦇They call him that because as I said in the previous post, the Bat is the Ruler/King/Queen of the Night/Gotham much to the Court dismay

🦇 Batwoman doesn't have that shit, guns are and don't hide it. I lowkey ship this version of her with Selina and Huntress XD (...Selina would be then in both relationships with Harley+Ivy one side and Batwoman+Huntress in the other???? ^-^)

🦇 Cass always tends to melee and at times uses a kubotan in a fighting style kinda Ty Lee in AtLA. Reader thinks she looks more like a deadly assassin squirrel than a bat, and that she would be more comfortable without the cape, but there is no way.

🦇 Stephanie main weapon is the Bat's Utility Belt which makes Reader adore her (somebody listen to me!!!) Sound, light, smoke, paralyzing gases and sleeping bombs, small explosives, everyone see her take a tiny ball out of her belt and everyone cover their face and run. I'm very proud of Stephanie. She also fights with sticks similar but no to Nightwing ones.

🦇 Superbat and Shazam have powers so they don't count, but 1T8 Shazam's cape is black because of his family (because black is bad is a bad cliche). Superbat's clothing looks like the Red Hood from the Main Universe but with other colors (and without helmet), which always brings Reader a smile.

The first time I wrote Earth 1T8, I was considering various ideas for the "facade" of our Reader of course some inspired by many of the hcs that run on tumblr. I share them, you can choose to your venom.

🦇 I confess it was my first idea: Almost canon but wilder and at the same time more "you can't get close to me because I'm not really here, hehehe" Rich but easyly addicted to anything and easy to hate person, the typical one who appears one day paragliding at the other end of the world, then disappears a month for being in a drug addiction center, then they are at a party in Gotham flirting, they say they were bitten by a bear! then they say that they went diving with sharks... In this case Reader would add being a daddy's pampered child, adrenaline junkie, and Alfred would direct WE until Tim's appearance. And the children would be Afred's attempt to make them settle down.

🦇 Totally stick with canon. Reader man or woman or both or neither, I don't care. Partying and going out and having sex with whoever it moved I wanted. Psychologists say that Reader is trying to fill the emotional void of their parents' death with physical pleasure. It's unfortunate, but does it seem like they're trying to get better, getting involved with WE and adopting children?

🦇 You are a stereotypical rich. You do enough at work not to look like someone who is in home every day although most think that you are in your work, as decoration. And if you put on finery and make donations it's obviously to reduce taxes, it's clear that you imitate your parents. And heaven knows what adopted children thing come to.

🦇 The kid's trauma was too much. Kinda, If I give enough money and show and DO my good intentions, and I think 90% of Gotham has my name on its back by now btw, everything will work out. Kittens and rainbows and flowers and so on, on instagram. I heart Gotham. Sucks!

🦇 Tired, tired, tired parent who returns from work and thanks their own father for keeping the house being on fire. Because even having their own apartments, most of their kids are more in the mansion than in their own homes. Also, who are the responsibles do I have 5 missed calls from BOTH Gotham Academy and College/University AGAIN?

[ashbrea381writings]

Fractals and Feathers:Pt1

For as long as Damian could remember, his grandfather had grumbled about his wings. The outer color was fitting for the League, a deep pine green with brown eye-markings near the base. The underside, however… Were a soft, baby pink that faded into a grey-white. His soulmate was obviously some civilian girl who had no problems in her life. “It is unbecoming. If you were to ever meet this person, you must end them on sight, salvage some form of dignity.” Ra’s lectured, sneering down at Damian. “If you fail to do this, you will lose the right to have wings at all.” With that threat, Ra’s swept out of the training room, leaving Damian to consider what he must do.

The next five years were spent with Damian training hard, the threat of having his wings removed hanging over his head. He kept an eye out for his soulmate anytime he was out on a mission either with his mother or when he was alone. He was determined to not get his wings ripped from him, no matter what fate wanted for him. This went on until the fateful day his mother took him away from all he knew, and left him with his father. His father’s wings were jet black with small points of pure white like stars on the underside and slate grey with blue and purple markings on the outside. Damian didn’t care about the colors of the other boys’ wings, and ignored the color of his own, choosing to keep them tucked close enough that only the grey edges of the bottoms showed at all. This is why it took him 2 weeks to notice the first cracks.

****

Marinette had always found the dichotomy of her wings interesting. The light, pale pink fading to grey on the back, and the dark pine green on the underside. She thought it was pretty, and just a bit mysterious. Somehow, on hot days the inside of her wings would be just a bit cooler than the rest of her, soothing the heat just enough to be comfortable. On cold days, they gave off the heat of the summer sun, warming her through the cold nights in her attic bedroom. When Marinette got her miraculous, she worried about her wings giving her away, but instead of her pink/grey and green wings, she found that the pink was replaced by bright red with black dots, and the green was changed to black with red dots. Meeting up with Chat, she found him with startling acid-green and black patterned wings. “I guess they want to protect our identities.” He joked, laughing and admiring the pattern. “Let’s not focus on that, Kitty.” She sighed and turned to face Stoneheart. “This is scary enough as is without thinking about if they didn’t hide our wing colors.” “True… Let’s go.” His face turned suddenly serious. “Do you have a plan?” Stoneheart took time to defeat, and Ladybug forgot the Akuma, so they had to clean it up later, but… They were pretty happy with the partners they were starting to become. They started to get to know each other, not revealing identities, but learning everything else about each other. Until one day, Chat brought up something interesting. “Hey, what happens to your wings if something happens to your soulmate?” “Why do you ask, Kitty?” Ladybug paused as she was unpacking the dinner she’d brought with the two of them. “Someone I know, they commented about the color of a person’s wings when we were out together. They said something about how that person had lost their soulmate. Nobody ever said anything to me about the colors changing if we lose them.” He stared at his gloved palms, seeming to not see anything at all. “Why? Did yours change color recently?” Ladybug asked, alarmed. “No! No, they’re the same as always, but… My… My mother disappeared a while ago, and I want to know what to look for and how to know what happened to her if I see my father’s wings change.” He sighed deeply, dropping his head into his hands. “I know I can’t say more because we can’t know who each other are, but I just… I’m so terrified to see them changed one day.” Ladybug wrapped an arm and wing around Chat, pulling him to lean on her shoulder. “Oh Cat. I can tell you, but try to stay positive, okay?” At his nod, she continued. “Your color on the underside of your wings will change if your soulmate dies. If they die of old age, they turn pure white, if they were sick, pure black, if they had an accident, they become silver, if they died a hero or sacrificed themselves for someone, they turn gold, and… If they were killed, they turn blood red.” Ladybug sighed at the end and hugged Chat tighter. “Does your father have any of those colors without any other color or pattern? It’s only plain colors with no other pattern for if the person has died.” Chat took a deep breath, shaking his head, “No, they still look like Mom’s wings as of last I saw them. We… Don’t talk much.” He hugged Ladybug tightly, wrapping his wings around under the one she had put over his shoulders. “Thanks, Bug, I’m glad I know now… At least I know she’s still alive out there. Somewhere.” They finished their dinner, flying a circuit around Paris to make sure all is well before they called it a night. The next few weeks passed, and they kept up with the Akuma Victims, making sure to check in on the victims after each fight. The people of Paris started noticing something odd as this continued though. The Akuma fights, even though all damage was reversed after each one, were affecting their wings and those of their soulmates.

***

Damian squinted at the small spider-webbing of cracks that glowed gold on the underside of his wings. It reminded him of kintsugi in appearance, subtle cracks that showed gold between the usual colors. “Father, what does this mean? I thought your wings only changed color if your soulmate died?” He finally asked after the number of cracks increased to stretch in geometric patterns across the pink and grey feathers. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen this before.” Bruce frowned, looking closely and waving Tim over to him. “Will you try to find anything you can about this phenomena?” Uncharacteristically serious, Tim nodded and went to work right away, his red and black wings draped over his chair comfortably. Damian turned away before he noticed the colors inside his wings, not wanting to know. A sharp beep alerted him to his phone, and he raised an eyebrow at the photo. “It would seem Kent is having a similar problem.” He showed Tim the photo Jon had sent of his own wings, the blonde and emerald green feathers also showing cracks, in a similar geometric pattern, but in a mix of gold and blood red. “I shall inform him that we are already looking into it.” “Yes, let Jon know that we’re working on it. If his case increases at any point, or anyone else around him experiences it, have him notify us.” Tim called over his shoulder as he continued to work on the program he was making to search with.

***

How long does it take for your wings to change color when your soulmate dies?

Marinette chewed her fingernail as she scrolled through the results, reading a few different reports comparing the reported time of death and when the soulmates’ wings changed color, mostly reported by hospitals in the case of illness or death. “Within two or three minutes. That explains a lot, actually. But then why are they not completely changed, just showing cracks?” “You have dealt with some pretty destructive Akuma recently.” Tikki recalled from her place on her Chosen’s shoulder. “Maybe those only kinda count because they would have been permanent if you hadn’t done the Cure?” “I suppose. Syren was pretty intense, and so many of the people who have the markings were probably people whose loved ones and even they themselves drowned.” Marinette sighed. “I wonder what Mamman and Papa think about all this?” “You could probably ask them… It isn’t so strange to wonder since you can see the cracks in their wings, and in other people’s at school.” Tikki suggested. “Good idea, what would I do without you?” Marinette giggled, patting Tikki’s head and opening the edge of her blazer so Tikki could listen in from there. The bakery was quiet at the moment, so Marinette had little trouble catching a few minutes of her parents’ time. “What do you think about them? I saw Alya and Nino with the markings at school and I’m not sure what they mean.” “Well, I’ve seen them before, but not this much on one person.” Her Papa said carefully, “Your Grandpa Roland had a heart attack not long before your Maman and I got together. Did you notice the black edging to some of Grandma Gina’s feathers?” “I thought she just had black markings.” Marinette answered softly. “On the back of her wings, yes, but his wings are just grey and white with the black tips.” Tom sighed, rubbing his face. “This many cracks… and the mix of colors. It’s very unusual. I can only assume it’s because of the akuma attacks. Which means that either your soulmate is very lucky, or they aren’t in Paris.”

[miss-choco-chips]

The worst enemy

He throws another vase at the wall, but there’s no one there to pick the broken pieces up. It’s the middle of the night and he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Who are you?!”, he screams at nothing, approaching the mirror and hating the pale face that looks back at him, those intelligent eyes blinking quickly, as if trying to get out of a daze.

He needs to find out who their rat is. Ra’s hasn’t yet, and it’s hurting their position on this war. The enemy has eyes inside their castle, and Tim is left to fend off the plots his faceless opponent comes up with with that intel. It’s tiring, he feels strung along, and there’s little he can do about that.

Warning: There are some possibly triggering subjects being discussed. Nothing too explicit, but just to be sure, I’ll be adding the warnings deep into the tags. Those who think they might be triggered can read the tags, and those who don’t want to risk being spoiled can just avoid it. 

Thanks @iphoenixrising and @the-quiet-carrotcake for giving some parts a read for me. Also tagging @animemangasoul cause you told me you wanted to read this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Despite his careful consideration and analysis, he couldn't quite put his finger into what bothered him so much, to the point of losing focus. Homesickness, maybe? There was something in the walls, surely. Too clean, no mold or blood splatters in sight. His old home at the Wayne Castle had been cared for, but not even an army of maids could compete with hundreds of years of violent legacy.

As everytime he thought of his life before, pain throbbed behind his eyes. It was momentary, come then gone, but it was enough to make him groan a bit under his breath, the sound echoing in the open (too open, no corners to hide if an assassin came… which was kind of ironic here, he supposes) hallway. He knew there were eyes on him, though. His guard, for one, always two feet behind and one to the side. And he was sure he wasn’t the only one sent to (observe his every move) protect him.

Damn, the headache was getting worse. It was too long until tea time.

“I’ll visit my husband”, he decides out loud, for his shadow’s benefit. A kindness they would never expect from a superior, but that he was sure they appreciated.

The only response came from just behind him. A cut out sound that he couldn't identify, but must have been some sort of laugh. Either that or a pained groan.

Smiling, he twisted to look, hands behind his back as he walked in that fashion.

-What? It’s not gross that a man wishes to meet his beloved. It’s a rare day when we meet outside of dinner or council meetings. I’m not a sap; if anything I’m a paragon of patience. 

The man doesn’t raise to the bait, as he rarely does, but he tilts his head a bit.

“Yer Highness, please mind your step and watch where y’er going. It’ll be my head on the chopping block if you fall and scrape your dainty white hands.”

He rolls his eyes at the jab, but heeds his warning and turns again to look up front. It’s not without truth, after all. 

The part of him dying if Tim were to get hurt, of course. Not about the hands. 

He looks down at them as they walk, a little confused. When did they become so though, so calloused? Sure, he must have learned some sort of self defense back when he was young, but he can barely recall it. His shouldn’t be the hands of someone used to the heat of combat, not sheltered as he had been from his birth to his marriage, and yet…

Nothing good comes from thinking that far back, anyway, he decides, shaking his head to get rid of the annoying thoughts pestering him like flies. He’d only end up giving himself a headache, and then Ra’s would send him back to bed with soup and an army of servants to observe his progress. A small smile tugs at his lips; he sure was lucky to get such a loving, protective partner. It was a wise decision, on his Father’s/

“Yer Highness”, calls the voice from behind, dragging him back from his musings rather forcefully. “We’re here.”

Any thought that’s not his husband completely vanishes from his mind. Smiling automatically, he springs into the room, straight to his husband’s open arms. The green and gold cape closes around them, and everything is okay, certain. He doesn’t feel confused, or worried, or observed. Because he’s with Ra’s right now. How could there be anything bad involved in that?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“It’s tea time, y’er Highness.”

“Ah, thanks A. I’ll be going then, my Lord. Will I see you at dinner?”

“Of course, Beloved. I just have to deal with those pesky documents and then I’m all yours.”

Tim’s laughter is like bells. It doesn’t feel actually natural, but he’s not forcing it either. It’s weird, how his voice works sometimes.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It’s a day like any other, when Damian comes to visit. He hasn’t seen his family in quite some time, so when a nameless ninja, covered from head to toe, detaches herself (herself? He’s sure its a her but why?) from the wall and informs him of it, he gathers his royal blue and gold kaftan in a fist so he doesn’t trip and speeds towards the throne room.

So good it’s Damian. He can barely remember Dick’s face, and the Jason from his memories is little more than a broad back, firm shoulders that would carry him all through the palace. Of his sister, he only knows she exists, and that they got along amazingly.

But that’s what loves makes to someone, he supposes. It was bound to happen, more than half a year without seeing them and devoting all his time to think about Ra’s.

But Damian… Damian, he remembers very clearly. Maybe because he can see some of Ra’s in his features, maybe because it was thanks to  him that he could actually marry his beloved King…

(He thinks of ancient portraits hanging from the walls, the eyes of Kings and Consorts of old following one’s steps, as the shadows hidden in passageways behind them take note of his every action)

“Your Highness, you can’t pass”, a figure stops him just before the room where his brother and husband are probably already talking. He accepts this for only a moment, so he can catch his breath, kinda surprised by how easy it is to compose himself again; it hadn’t been a short run.

“Step aside”, he orders, back straight and looking into the man’s mask. Ra’s country wasn’t very keen on knights, not like King Clark's Aupuni La. Even Gotham, while not as honorable, had its fair share of white horseman riding to war with honor on their shoulders (although it still maintained its fair share of ninja-like warriors, their elite and probably the only thing in common with his current home). But Alqatala had only a handful (his own A among them), found more use in the shadows that kept well out of their Master’s view while still blocking anything annoying from reaching him when they could, and fiercely obeying His commands on how to defeat them when they couldn't.

It was reassuring, knowing the entirety of the Kingdom’s fighters would lay down their lives (and anyone else’s) for their King’s sake. That meant Ra’s would be always safe… even if all their subjects had to die for it…

Distractedly, he scratched at the back of his head. Maybe the new hair ornaments were irritating the skin there.

“Your Highness, I’m under strict orders to forbid anyone from/”

“Unless your orders explicitly include me, then you should already know I’m the exception to the rule. Step aside. I won’t ask again.”

This time, the man bows deep and moves. Disobeying his Master could have dire consequences; upsetting his Consort most certainly would. And if he did transgress because of His Highness’s orders, then the King might be forgiving. 

Head held on high, Tim motioned for A to wait outside the room as he entered.

It was an open space, with long drapes of cloth flowing down the walls like waterfalls of red and gold. Golden torches, shining brightly with their perpetually lit fire, reflected the yellow and orange of their flames in whatever bit of wall left uncovered, making the cream colored stones look as if they were also burning down. 

The ground, dark and polished, looked under the fierce light like onix. Maybe it was, Tim had never asked. The flush red carpet, going from the double doors to the steps leading to the throne, completed the feeling of entering some warm, cozy place. 

A had told him once it was like setting foot into Hell. Tim liked to think differently, though he could admittedly see what his guard meant.

Looking up, his gaze landed automatically in his husband, raised above the rest of the room in his throne made of gold and rubies. The opulence suited him, and Tim loved seeing him high and mighty like this.

Agh, his head… He would need to ask A for more tea the moment this meeting was over. Maybe he could share some with Damian?

Suddenly remembering his reason to be there, he drags his eyes away from Ra’s. Jade green ones found his almost immediately, and familiar warmth takes residence in his chest.

“Brother!” he greets, happily, steps quickening until he reaches the young man. Damian has grown a lot in the past six months, as far as he remembers. Taller than Tim, shoulders twice as broad and chiseled jaw, his little sibling was now more a man than a boy, although he’d always be the latter in his eyes.

They hadn’t seen each other since the wedding; when Tim accepted Ra’s suit and became his husband, in exchange of him letting Damian return to his Father, to be Gotham’s Heir. Since he left behind his gold and ruby crown, for the onyx and sapphire one he wore now, black and blue jewels enhacing the paleness of his skin and the shine in his love-ridden eyes.

Damian completely ignores the offered hand, arms instead circling around his slimer frame and crushing him towards his chest. 

“You’re okay”, he whispers. A swallow, then. Like he wanted to keep going but forced himself into silence. 

A little confused, Tim returns the hug, eyes going to his husband over Damian’s shoulder. 

The King watches from above, cold, calculating eyes glued to them. Dread pools in his stomach in automatic response, and he shoves his brother away as careful as possible.

“Where are my manners! Brother, you made me forget myself”, a small smile, as apology, and then Tim makes his way up the steps until he reaches his husband. “ My Lord”, he greets, bowing a bit and then quickly grabbing for his arm. Ra’s allows the touch graciously, the almost hostile look in his eyes nowhere to be seen now.

“Beloved. I’m sure we can forgive your small loss of decorum, in this circumstances. Right, Grandson?”

From beneath them, Damian stays with his back to them (in the exact same place where he hugged Tim) for a beat longer. Then, he turns to face the King and his Consort, and offers them both a bow.

“Of course, your Majesty. Your Highness. The fault lies on myself, as I couldn’t contain my joy, seeing my brother after so long”, he straightens from his courtesy, eyes finding his Grandfather’s in what could both pass as a familial gesture, or a blatant show of disrespect; Tim had to give it to him, the plausible deniability was exquisite. ”So long, in fact, our Lord Father was getting worried some ill fate had befallen him.” 

Tim stills. He can’t ignore the sudden coldness in the room. Almost on instinct, he shifts a bit, so his shoulder is slightly in front of Ra’s, covering him. Unneeded, since there must be a hundred eyes on them now, their shadows ready to jump in and take any hit for their Master.

The gesture doesn't go unnoticed by his husband, though. He reaches down slightly, hand catching Tim’s. Something in him relaxes.

Damian’s eyes tracked the movement, but didn’t comment in it. Not when his last remark had yet to be answered.

“The joy of those recently joined in marriage can be blinding, Grandson. I’m sure your Oldest Brother would be able to tell you as much, with how many times he himself was wed. Timothy and myself just found it hard to part with one another for hours at a time, let alone a week long trip back to his old Kingdom.”

The mention of Dick brought color to Damian’s face; the red of rage. Tim himself felt a bit uneasy, the mention forcing his mind to come up with the face that had become quiet blurry in his memory. Richard. They had gotten along marvelously, hadn’t them? It was quiet weird they hadn’t met lately.

“I would have loved to see Dick”, he interjects, attempting to force them to look his way instead of each other. His smile is wobbly, and Ra’s hand tightens around his, but he maintains steady eye contact until Damian huffs.

“There have been some issues back home”, he informs Tim; and it’s quiet notable, the way he said the last word, as if reminding Tim that his roots laid elsewhere. Not that he cared where he was born, all that mattered to him was where he had bloomed, and that could only be at Ra’s side. “Father required his help. That’s also why I’m here.”

Something moves behind him, but by the time he turns to look at his husband, there’s nothing amiss. Ra’s seems to be deep in thought for a second, before he smiles beatifically at his grandson.

“We can talk more about this at dinner, you must be exhausted from your travels”, he decides, raising a hand. As if on cue, two shadows appear in the room. Only because he had been looking for them, Tim knows they came from under the red drapes hanging from the walls. How many more were there hidden in that place? Well, he thinks, it’s not like he cares to know either way…” Take the guest to his rooms, make sure to attend to his every need. Come now, husband”, Ra’s directs his eyes to Tim, whose insides flip automatically and smiles in thoughtless response, “we might as well spend the afternoon together.”

They descend the steps, hand in hand. Damian still hasn’t moved, head bowed in respect of the monarchs, waiting for them to leave first. The fist he has over his chest shakes a bit.

“Tea in the gardens? Should I ask for refreshments?” he asks, a little dubiously, following without complains. That’s how he usually spends the hours before dinner time…

Ra’s smile changes slightly, from gentle to hunting. He refuses to answer. 

From his face alone, one would guess his husband’s motives were far from chaste; but given that his contract marriage specified Tim was to be untouched until his twenty first birthday, he wasn’t sure why Ra’s was now acting as though he’d ever forgone that particular condition.

They are passing by his brother now, and it's because of that cercany that he can see his knuckles turning white as he hunches even further into himself, a barely refrained gasp. Then he understands.

Before he can stop and ask Damian if he’s okay, reassure him that his Father's orders were being obeyed (in regards of his third son’s marriage treaty, at least), Ra’s is tugging him out of the throne room and towards his own bedchambers. Tim is helpless to his husband’s touch, so he doesn’t resist, but can’t help but turn to him, curious, just before they reach the room.

“Was Damian…?”

“Childish jealousy, I’m sure”, the King dismisses, opening the door for him and closing after they are both inside his anter-chambers. His hand goes to unclasp the brooch keeping his cape steady, removing the garment and taking seat in the low couch in front of the small tea table. “I all but stole you from your family, Beloved. Little siblings tend to yearn after their elders are wed away. I was merely teasing my grandson.”

Tim can’t help but smile in the tea cup a servant hands him, once he’s sat opposite the King. His knight, A, hadn’t followed them inside, but Tim caught flashes of him as Ra’s guided him through the halls, so he knows the man is close by. He relaxes in the knowledge, sweetening his tea a bit before his mind catches up to him.

Why, oh why would he think of A now? He’s with his husband, perfectly safe. Why is the notion of his personal guard being near reassuring him?

Damn this stupid headache. It’s hard to think, and A is not in the room to provide with the painkiller he usually takes at this hour. Unwilling to interrupt his time with his husband by calling his servant, he powers through the pain, smiling at the intense focus being bestowed upon him.

“Damian has grown a lot”, he comments, desperate to distract himself from the throbbing just behind his eyes, “but he’s still a child. Merely sixteen.”

“You are twenty, Beloved”, Ra’s points out, relaxing back into his seat, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in Tim’s face. “Although I guess you were always the most mature of your brod. The only one worthy enough to stand by my side.”

“My Lord”, he chides softly, looking at him over his cup. Just because it’s hard to remember his family, it doesn’t mean he wishes to hear them spoken down to by his spouse.

“I speak the truth. Are you denying me?”

The question might sound brusc, almost confrontative, but he’s used to those kinds of inquiries by now. As a response, he bows his head a bit, submissive and elegant, neck in display and crown steady over his temple.

“I’d never betray my husband like that.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dinner goes without a hitch, until the moment Damian mentions their family one too many times and Tim has to excuse himself from the table. Juggling his husband’s mood and keeping his brother from being outright aggressive to such an important monarch was a tiresome duty, one he couldn’t wait to shed.  Before dessert was served, he decided to retire for the evening.

A, loyal and wonderful, had the tea set ready by the time he reached his rooms. The little brown pill carefully placed on a napkin by his cup was even more enticing than the cakes and sweets the chefs must have served Ra’s and Damian.

“How did you know I was hurting?”, he wonders, sitting down in the chair by his balcony, letting the late afternoon breeze comb his hair away from his face.

“You have that look, yer Highness”, answers the man, carefully dropping the pill inside the cup  before handing it to his Master. “Is there anything else I can do for ya?”

The question sounds… charged, somehow. Tim sips his drink. What else would he need right n/?

“Oh”, he blinks, once, twice, then tilts his head up to face his guard. Meeting his eyes over the edge of his facemask, he smiles-. The afternoon feels quite lovely, I’d like to share this moment of peace with my brother. I’m sure he must have long left the dinner table by now, so go extend him my invitation to have tea together.

He can’t be sure, but somehow he just knows A smiled.

He’s careful to pace the drink as he waits. He’s not alone for long.

Damian takes the seat opposite to his, and A is careful to close the balcony doors before the room gets too chilly. The creamy green curtains, white walls and gold ornaments make the entire atmosphere bright, something Gothamites born and raised would despise for it’s unfamiliarity; a wonder that those were the colors painting the room of a noble hailing from those lands. The three of them stay in silence for a while, as the King Consort finishes his cup.

Tim smiles. Damian watches him for a second, before his own smile appears, relieved and more than a bit happy.

“I’m glad to see you doing so well, brother. You had us all worried, back home.”

A soft, almost primly, scoff, “Please. I know how to handle myself, and I’m well protected here. You know I’m never alone.”

Damian dips his head in acknowledgement, but he still doesn’t remove his eyes from him.

“Conflict is brewing”, he goes straight to the point, almost desperate; unsure of how longer will they be able to speak privately. “Father is not willing to look past his transgressions any longer.”

“It won’t reach the Castle.”

“Brother!”

Tim shushes him, letting A refill his cup. No more medicine added, though.

“Damian. Ra’s might be a little… “he doesn’t quite know what to say,” as he is, but he’s by no means dumb. He won’t allow any kind of rebellion to arise in his lands. There will be no war in Alqatala. 

Damian falls silent for a minute. A places a plate of delicious looking cookies in the table, on Timothy’s side. Neither brother makes any move to touch them.

“I’ll confront Grandfather about it, tomorrow”, the tone is almost warning. Tim’s eyes narrow.

“Do remember, brother, which side I’m on.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he watches in silence as Tim takes a cookie and bits softly into it, maintaining steady eye contact with the younger Prince.

“I suppose this is goodbye, then”, he adds, letting the rest of the desert back on his plate, by his empty cup.” I hate to cut our time together so short, after such a long time apart, but I need to rest now; it’s been such a long day. We’ll see each other soon, I promise. And don’t worry about me, silly little brother”, Tim’s smile came back, a little groggy this time.

Damian left after a shallow bow, escorted by A.

In the dimness of the falling night, Tim placed a careful hand on the glass door leading to the balcony.

...The callouses in his hand were still a mystery. Maybe he should ask his husband, tomorrow. He would know. 

Ra’s knew everything about Tim. He had too, after all. And if he didn’t, Tim would tell him.

That’s what made them such an harmonious pair, after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He’s called to his husband’s study room the following afternoon, long after Damian’s entourage parted from their Castle.

He quickly removes his sleeping camisole (he’d been bedridden all morning, stroke down by a vicious headache) and dones a green and gold Farasha, simple sandals and his crown, no other accessories needed; as the maids helping him dress often tell him, he needs no outer help to enhance his beauty. 

A walks him all the way to where Ra’s is waiting, then bows and swears to wait for him in the hallway. Not exactly his usual behaviour, but Tim can’t waste any brainpower in figuring out his guard, not when he needs to be sharp to attend to Ra’s now.

“My Lord?”, he calls, once inside. The older man is waiting, back to the door, as he watches from the window his Kingdom, buzzing with activity.

“Beloved”, he greets, without turning.” There’s a letter in the desk.”

Tim walks closer, picking the indicated piece of paper curiously.

It’s from Bruce (Father… Dad). 

It’s a complaint, a description of the fate that would befell him if Ra’s were to continue on his current path. A demand of retribution, for all the damage already done. A threat, if a veiled one.

The only mention of Tim on the letter, was to inform Ra’s that having his third son inside the Castle wouldn’t prevent him from seeking to burn it to the ground, would Ra’s ignore his generous warning.

Tim’s insides were cold. His mind screaming at him, ‘he wants to hurt our husband’. A small, almost meek part of him wants to ask about King Wayne’s accusations, but the bigger, devoted side squashes this voice ruthlessly; no threat to his husband would be allowed, not even a justified one.

“Are we going to war?”, he asks, tone dry, hands carefully loose on the paper as to not crass it. Confused. He had tea with Damian the day before, he should have noticed something from him, an indication of the dangers coming. And why hadn’t his brother warned him?

His head hurts.

It’s then that his husband turns to examine him. For a few minutes, he does nothing else than to look at Tim, deeply. He returns the look fiercely, protectively; nothing but desire to help shining through. Cold fire burning in icy eyes.

Ra’s smiles.

“It won’t be much of a war, not with one as you on my side, Beloved. Let’s get to planning, shall we?”

There it is, the reason Ra’s married him in the first place. His strategic abilities, his absolute dominance over any battlefield, overturning the board with a simple swipe of his hand. Winning wars without stepping a foot in any battle.

He never thought he’d be using it against his own Father. But Tim knew where his loyalties laid. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tim suggested they sent an ambush as soon as possible, before Damian could leave their lands. To kidnap him, and use as leverage to bring Bruce to heel. With his eldest son refusing the crown, the second lost as far as anyone knew and the third, himself, married away (and to an enemy, now, to boot), Damian was his last heir; he could not afford to lose him.

Ra’s also pointed out the Gotham King’s sentimentalism. Tim, tired and with his head throbbing, couldn’t say if that was truly the case, so he submitted to his husband’s intel and left the study to return to his quarters. Ra’s would assemble his own team to send post haste to retrieve the young Prince before he could cross the Alqatala border.

“Tea, yer Highness?” 

“Thank you, yes.”

A few sips, before Tim tilts his head to the side.

“A? You know this young guard who switches places with you during the night, when you rest?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do call her, please. I need her to fetch something for me.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“I have bad news, Beloved.”

That wasn’t what he expected to hear, the second he saw his husband. Weary, he sat in front of Ra’s desk, the cushioned back of the opulent chair helping soothe his uneasiness.

“What happened?”

“My Grandson has apparently grown some brains the last few months; he switched routes, and exited Alqatala by the eastern woods, instead of through the southwestern river he used to come.”

“That trip is twice as hard, why would he choose it?”, the second he spoke, he knew the answer. ”It’s harder to track someone there, than by water. You can see a ship from a long distance, but there’s multiple hiding spots between the trees.”

“That’s what I thought, as well. I sent some of my best trackers to follow, but I have no true expectations of them succeeding; Damian was raised to know those woods like the palm of his hand. Such a rich education, wasted in that boy”, Ra’s laments. Tim moves on instinct walking to stand behind his chair and placing his hands on the older man’s shoulders.

“Damian would not actually expect us to move so soon”, he rationalized, “nor would he know where our people was waiting to ambush him. His change of tracks is more than a little too well timed. 

“Are you suggesting we have a rat, Beloved?”

Tim shrugs a little, helplessly ”I think I would remember Damian being wary. We had tea before he left, but I didn’t notice anything unusual. He must have not suspected us of being capable of that, back then. Someone must have alerted him to our intentions.”

Ra’s looks to be deep in thought. He turns a little to face Tim, who returns his look of seriousness with one of his own.

“I’ll weed out this traitor, My Lord. I can’t allow those kinds of pests around you.”

His husband smirks a little.

“I will be the one doing that, Beloved. You focus on forming a new strategy, and we’ll discuss it at dinner tonight. Show me I made the right choice, taking you as mine.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The vase crashed against the wall, and a waterfall of flowers and porcelain fell over the carpet. A maid rushed to clean up, but Timothy paid her no mind, despite the small thread of guilt twisting in his stomach.

The reports over his table spoke for themselves. Territory battles won by the smallest margin, spies derailed from their targets by very convenient distractions, specialized assassins caught and jailed before completing their tasks.

Someone good was working against them.

Tim knew, intellectually, that Bruce was a smart man. But not this kind of smart, not this quickly. There was a new player on the board, and it wasn’t on his side. 

“A”, he called, almost growling. The man stepped out of the shadows enclosing the corners of the room, “bring me parchment and paper. I have suspicions on their next move, and I have to alert our troops against them.”

The man hesitated a bit.

“Yer Highness you… don’t look well. Should I bring you tea?”

Tim waved a hand, “After I send this missive. There’s no time to delay.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Their next strike was more successful than all their previous attempts. Ra’s had been incredibly pleased, seating Tim on his lap during dinner and feeding him carefully crafted delicacies and praising his Consort’s flawless strategy. They had managed to capture one of King Wayne’s favored warriors, General Brown. Her troops had been slim, and most of them fled at the overpowered sight of Ra’s people, so only she and few loyal soldiers had been caught.  They would rott the dungeons until Ra’s needed to negotiate, or decided to execute them as an example for those who thought of going against him. Tim was pretty sure it’d be the first case, though. Brown was too valuable to just off.

The small victory tasted all the sweeter to him when no reports came from this mysterious figure trumping all his previous attempts. Hopefully, this meant they were all the more closer to winning this war without any big loses, as they’ve managed to do until now.

Later, he’s in his rooms and A brings his tea, but no food. It’s okay, Timothy is not hungry. He just drowns the entire cup before springing to his feet, gathering some documents and hiding them under his white shirt, tucked into his slim, open sided, black harem pants.

“Take me to the dungeons”, he demands, hastily throwing on a cape, “I believe it’s time I interrogate the prisoners.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ra’s is lounging in cushions and silk when Tim finds him, a few hours later. He beckons him in, a single finger crooked and a side smile.

Slowly, almost reluctant, Tim sits, his back to Ra’s, and rests his weight on the man. He can feel the strong arms going around his waist, but can’t see his face.

“Is everything alright, Beloved?”

Tim sags against him, hiding his face in the man’s shoulder. He, in turn, rests his chin above his hair, moving the crown around to make space. Tim can feel him smelling his hair and shivers a little. Ra’s hands tighten in response.

“Yeah”, he whispers. Wetting his lips a bit, he tries again, “Yes, I just came from the dungeons. General Brown… I went to see her. Try to get some information.”

The arms stiffen a bit, half a second, before the man relaxes again.

“And?”

“She seemed willing to talk, at first. I think it was the shock of seeing a familiar face”, he touches his own cheek a bit, then lets his hand fall over Ra’s wrist, carefully tracing his pulse point. “I think we were quiet close, back then.”

“Not anymore?”

A delicate shrug, “Not since I married you, My Lord. I choose my side, and so did she. As soon as she remembered we’re in different fronts on this war, she became quite tight lipped.”

Ra’s hums, hand reaching for the tray set by his side. Picking up a chocolate covered something, he offered it to the boy in his arms, smiling when he felt the soft lips closing around the food, almost kissing Ra’s palm where it laid.

“I believe she’ll start to rethink her decision, once a few more of her friends join her in the dungeons. I trust your preparations are going well?”

Timothy relaxed even further in his arms.

“Yes, My Lord. I’ve written some instructions for our people rounding on Sargeant Gordon and his daughter”, he explains, taking the mentioned papers out of his white sleeve” I’ll send the letter tomorrow after checking in some details, and by afternoon, if it all goes according to plan we’ll have two more guests joining General Brown. That means I won’t be accompanying you for lunch, My Lord.”

Ra’s reads the information carefully, and can’t help but squeeze his pretty little genius closer to his chest. Stealing him from his Father had been the wisest of his choices. Giving up his grandson in exchange was by all means a perfectly acceptable loss.

“Do tell your servant to fetch you something to eat, my dear. It won’t do to have my best strategist fall to his own ambitions and starve.”

Looking up at his husband, with the chocolate covered fruit still dancing around his closed mouth, Tim smiled.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Over the course of the next few weeks, Timothy’s life became a whirlwind of reading reports, scheming strategies and meeting his husband to inform him of any progress- or loss. 

They managed to capture young General Duke Thomas, Sargent Kane and General Gordon. Sergeant Gordon, the woman’s father, had escaped unscathed though, by a well timed counter attack that Tim was still unsure how they enemies had devised. 

His new sworn enemy, Wayne’s strategist, was no doubt behind any little rock in his path. Any setback, any mistake. This mysterious person seemed to be always one step ahead, and even Tim’s hard won victories sometimes seemed like they were a gift, an allowance. Ra’s didn’t seem to mind, more than happy with their slowly growing dungeons and Tim’s efforts, so he was reluctant to inform him of his fears; least the King started to regret marrying him in the first place.

He throws another vase at the wall, but there’s no one there to pick the broken pieces up. It’s the middle of the night and he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Who are you?!”, he screams at nothing, approaching the mirror and hating the pale face that looks back at him, those intelligent eyes blinking quickly, as if trying to get out of a daze.

He needs to find out who their rat is. Ra’s hasn’t yet, and it’s hurting their position on this war. The enemy has eyes inside their castle, and Tim is left to fend off the plots his faceless opponent comes up with with that intel. It’s tiring, he feels strung along, and there’s little he can do about that.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“How are our guests faring?”

“Still haven’t as much as pipped, yer Highness.”

“I trust you’ve been exploring all your options while asking.”

“I’m...being very thorough. Maybe if yer Highness went…”

“I don’t know, A… Between the planning and these damn headaches that keep getting worse…”

“Should I bring the medicine?”

“Yes, do that…”

He scribbles orders for his men in parchment, gets so lost in the action he barely notices his servant’s return, merely accepting the cup with the sweet beverage when it’s offered to him.

“I’m not making any real progress like this… You are right, I do need to interrogate them myself. We’re going to the dungeons.”

“Yes, yer Highness.”

“And… be sure it doesn’t reach my husband’s ears. That place is so grim and dirty, and I wouldn't want to… worry him.”

“Yes, yer Highness. This way.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Ra’s orders Tim’s secondary guard to bring him to the throne room in the middle of the night, he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Sleep has been a luxury he can’t quite gift himself with, and his plans don’t seem to be achieving anything. Maybe… Maybe his husband was cross with him. Maybe he meant to… dispose of him.

What he’s not expecting, is seeing A’s kneeling form, bruised and curling into himself, in the ground in front of Ra’s throne steps. 

“What is the meaning of this? My lord? Why is my servant here?”, he worries, rushing to the man’s side. A might have been taking care of him under orders, but he had done it wonderfully, and Tim really appreciated his willingness to run back and forth fetching him medicine, tea and food when the pain got too unbearable, or just keeping him company as he raged at his mysterious strategic enemy.

“Don’t”, comes the order from above, cold and final, just when his hand is hovering over a obviously dislocated shoulder. Tim looks at his husband with hundreds of questions in his eyes, but the man answers just one. “Rats shouldn’t be blessed by the touch of the Royal Consort, Beloved.”

Tim shakes his head minutely, taking an automatic step away from A’s form. The guard, his knight, doesn’t even raise his head to look back at him. Tim wishes he did, so he could read the truth in his keppel colored eyes.

But his husband has already told him, hasn’t he? A’s testimony is of no worth, when the King himself is condemning him of treason.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It’s hours later, when Tim decides to go down to the dungeons once more. He picks Ra’s discarded cape from the ground by the bed and wraps it around him, gathering strength from his husband’s scent.

This... had been their first night together, and Tim laments it was under such painful circumstances. Betrayed by his closest aide, the one who had stayed by his side from the second Tim had married into the Al Ghul’s family, he had all but fallen into Ra’s arms while he watched the guards drag A away, to be questioned at a later date. Down to the dungeons, with every other enemy he had caught.

He hadn’t caught A, though. He had somehow completely missed the man sneaking information out, when said man was always a mere step away from Tim’s own shadow.

Ra’s had been perfect, in the face of his Consort’s distress. He had half escorted half carried Tim out of the room and into his own chambers. Plied him with wine (the same bottle Tim had gifted him what seemed like a lifetime away, but was just the previous night; still closed, but fresh), sharing a cup at first and then exchanging the liquid from mouth to mouth. He had gathered him into his arms, carried him to bed, and made him forget. Making him yield his body as well as his mind to his whims, dominating every inch of him; their pre nuptial contract all but forgotten in the face of such passion. Who would tell Bruce, anyway? And, even  if his father knew, they were at war with the man. 

Tim had sobbed, after it was all done with. His husband was obviously a gifted lover, and during their shared passion, he had made him drop any thought of his friend; but the second he went to sleep by his side, Tim’s eyes started to water by their own accord. 

A had betrayed him.

This stung worse than he could have expected. He needed to see A again, before Ra’s interrogated and later executed him. He… he needed to ask why.

The hallways seemed too deserted, tonight. He could usually catch a glimpse of a shadow sneaking just by the edge of his vision, something moving too fast to properly identify, but slow enough to be sure of its presence. There was none of that. No silent footsteps, no servant hurrying along in a chore, no visiting noble straying from his room in search of a nocturnal thirst with a maid. No eyes following from the portraits on the walls.

It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes one step lightly and breath as shallowly as possible, to keep from making any noise that would disturb it, draw attention to it. The kind that made him signal his guard to walk closer to his back, so the barely noticeable warmth of her presence could sooth his already frayed nerves.

The stairs to the dungeon were barely better. The sounds of chains shaking and rats scurrying around brought a light frown to his face. He suddenly wished to be back by his husband’s side, in the comfortable bed, protected by his arm around his waist.

But he needed to power through. A was just a few cells over, and he wouldn't be able to sleep without his answers.

The man is chained down, both at his ankles and wrists, as per the costum when one of their own goes rouge. Their training too intensive, too dangerous,  to leave them to roam freely, even within a cell.

He’s awake, through, despite his wounds. And he’s sitting in the middle of his ‘room’, facing the door. Facing Tim, when he came into sight.

...had he been awaiting him?

“Hey, Timmy.”

The uncharacteristic, carefree call snaps him out of it. Suddenly outraged (both at this man, so calm in his dishonored state, and at himself for being so affected by the situation; he was a King’s Consort, he needed to get it together!), he gathered himself to his full height and did his best to look down at the seated man, fists gathering Ra’s cape tighter around his shoulders, trying to pass it as some sort of royal garment, to get the extra confidence boost.

“It seems your short time in captivity has already started playing tricks on your mind, to make you believe you can address me this way. Or perhaps the certainty of your execution has made your tongue looser. It would not help your situation, but if you prove yourself useful a last time, I might consider appealing to my husband’s mercy.”

A tilted his head. Tim couldn't see his face, half hidden by the mask, half by his hair, but he knew him well enough to read the curiosity in his posture.

“Whose orders are you obeying?”

The young knight stared at him in silence for a bit, before shrugging.

“Yours, yer Highness.”

Tim couldn't help but scoff, crossing his arms and thus allowing the cape around him to part in the front.

“I certainly didn’t command you to betray my trust.”

If A had a response to that, it was halted by the sight of the King’s Consort still in his sleep camisole, hastily thrown over before heading there. The thin fabric did little to hide his neck, where the marks of tonight’s love encounter with his husband were painfully obvious, skin too pale to hide the almost purple signs of ownership.

“I’m sorry you went through that, yer Highness”, he whispered, shoulders slumping and head tilted down for the first time during their conversation.

It was cold in the dungeons, and that’s why Tim closed the cape around him again. Not to hide his marks and sudden vulnerability.

He thought, distractedly, that they must be giving an amusing show to the other captives, for them to be so quiet.

“I can assure you”, he answers dryly, ”that being loved by my husband is no hardship at all. Not like the ones you have coming for you.”

“I would disagree”, his voice sounds deeply pained, and resigned.

A throb behind his eyes made him squeeze them shut. He felt more than heard his silent shadow stepping closer, one hand supporting his arm as the other offered the small pill Ra’s had gotten for him to help his headaches, as well as a flask of something to down it with.

He held both the pill and the silver container in his hands, eyes never leaving A’s figure, suddenly a hundred times more attentive.

“You gonna take it, yer Highness?”

He hums, rolling the brownish pellet between thumb and forefinger.

“I always seem to have a muddled mind, after I do. And I think I want to remember this conversation, A. If that’s really your name.”

“’s not.”

“Are you going to tell me what it really is? Or what “A” stands for?”

“I’m a gothamite”, replied the man, who was suddenly a lot more talkative. Maybe afraid Tim would take his medicine and go sleep it off, taking with him his only chance of getting a more merciful judgement, “born and raised. But unlike all those whinny, dumb witted lords you’ve probably met, I hail from the streets. The darkest parts of the city, where only the most crooked and twisted reside. Where the monsters hide, ‘cause what’s on the street ‘s a thousand times more scary than ‘em. The slums of Arkham spit me out, half chewed and poisonous but still alive despite it all. And from there, I took my name. So I’d never forget, while I’m here, where do I came from.”

“And you still became a knight, a pawn, under the command of someone smart enough to fool even me?”, he scoffs, hand tightening and almost crushing the pain relief- They would only use you and discard you.  No, not even that, since we will be the ones doing the job. If you tell me who gave you your orders I… I can give you leniency.”

“I won’t.”

“Not even if…” he hates saying this, shouldn’t be promising it without talking it out with his husband first, but if there was a chance of catching this slippery strategist… “I spare your life?”

A only shook his head. Tim felt unsteady on his feet.

Who would even care, he thinks, before letting himself fall, sitting on the other side of the bars keeping A locked. The prisoners’ opinions weren’t important, and his shadow would not tell anyone else of Tim’s momentary weakness.

(How was he so sure of her loyalty? Why was he so despairing of A’s, his traitorous Arkham Knight, betrayal?)

“You look to be in pain, yer Highness. The medicine…”

Tim threw the goddamned pill as far away as he could, fierce eyes boring into the man.

“Why do you act as though you care for my well being? You surely didn’t when you sold me out to my enemy.”

A sighed, “The only enemy here, ‘s the man whose cape ye’r using to fend off the cold.”

“That man…!”, he stops himself, gathering his composure like one might sand between their fingers, hoping it’d be enough to get a hold of himself. He tried again. “That man is my Lord and Husband.”

“Oh Lord above, I’m so sick of this”, moaned A, leaning back into his hands and looking at his cell’s ceiling. “Yer Highess… Tim. What about we make a deal?”

“With a traitor?”

“With the only viable informant you have.”

He didn’t answer. Curious, despite himself, but unwilling to give him the satisfaction of inquiry. 

A didn’t seem to mind and straightened his back before crawling towards the bars, until he was pressed flush against them, chains clattering when they collided with the cold metal of his cage.

“If you can figure out who my master is from the clues you have, I’ll… help you fight your enemy.”

“If I could figure that out by myself, don’t you think I would have already?”, he frowns, but there’s no deceit in A’s eyes. Not that it would do he any favors; helpful or not, the only thing Tim had to lose here was time. Unsure, he decided to focus on this puzzle he had at hand.

“Think about yer hands. Think about your home, your true home, not this pit of snakes and lies. Think ‘bout… family. Why are you here?”

He didn’t want to. Those were the kind of questions that always brought forth the headache. But, he supposes, he is already in pain. What is a little more?

He turns the silver flask (that he almost forgot he still had) in his hands, thumbing the engravings on it as his mind wandered.

He was here because Ra’s had wanted to marry him, because he fell in love with Tim when/

...When?

No, that wasn’t right. Tim had made the choice, because… Ra’s had Damian captive. He had sent a letter offering an exchange…

No. Damian’s mother, Crown Princess Talia. She had asked Father… Bruce, for help. But… she had been the one who helped Ra’s take Damian in the first place…

Why had Tim offered marriage? There must have been multiple alternatives, more than one way to get his brother back. 

He loved Ra’s, that was why. Or so he thought.

He remembers… denials. Shouts. And a calm, detached voice explaining itself. Explaining…

As a lightning striking a tree and bruning it to ashes, all came flooding back into his mind. 

His hands. His home, his family.

The night before his wedding.

A cup of wine, left by Ra’s servants so he could settle his nerves before the next day’s ceremony, held tightly and steadily in his hands.

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t confused. He wasn’t in love.

A cloaked figure in the darkness of his rooms, ice blue eyes staring deeply into his. 

“I’m your worst enemy”, it said, cold like the iron of his Father’s blade, and twice as sharp. 

Tim recognized it then, who it was. 

The bane of Ra’s existence. The mysterious strategist. A’s master. 

A young man, eyes burning blue fire, standing among shadows in front of a mirror.

The fog raised from his mind, as did his hand when he took a long sip of his flask. The sweetness of the beverage brought a grin to his face, as the headache faded into oblivion. No pill needed, after all.

Still shaky but feeling finally in control, he climbed back to his feet. A, on the other side of the cell, did the same, face unsure and searching. 

Cassandra, his shadow, reappeared from within them. Taking one quick look at his face, her now unmasked one brightened. She held a number of keys among her swift fingers, stolen from the no doubt unconscious guards upstairs. 

“...Yer Highness?”

Tim laughed, unbridled. A devious smirk played on his lips as he watched Cass set to work.

“Formalities don’t suit you, brother.”

Jason’s eyes widened in surprise, before savage glee lightened them. He held his hands before himself, patiently waiting for their sister to open his cell and free him.

“About damn time, Timmy.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tim had told Damian not to worry, a long time ago. No bloodshed would flood the streets where he grew up, no hard working servant or innocent peasant would see themselves tangled in the throes of war.

There’d be no war in Alqatala. Because they were going to take it from the inside.

The walk back to Ra’s rooms was done in half the time it took before. Movement all around him as all the prisoners, his people, were set free to take care of whatever of Ra’s soldiers remained in the castle after Tim sent the majority of them to fight an empty battle. He saw Stephanie’s men subduing the less strong warriors, as she and Cass took the better trained ones. Jason was carrying Barbara in his arms, probably headed to wherever Dick and his troops were waiting, somewhere just outside the castle, to act as reinforcements. Duke, Kate and their soldiers, helping the wounded and escorting the enemies to the dungeons that not too long ago housed them.

Tim didn’t focus on any of them, though. He had another matter to attend to. 

When he reached the Royal chambers, he saw exactly what he expected; Ra’s, fully dressed, standing at his balcony and observing the figures dancing below. His enemy’s troops taking hold of his kingdom as peacefully as a coup could ever be.

The wine had been chosen primarily because it’s sleepy quality was one he had gotten resistant against, after months of Jason providing him with it. So that Ra’s would be affected and sleep the night away, while Tim got his memories back and could take the last step of his carefully organized plan.

The second, less pressing (but almost more rewarding) reason was spite: the first dose of the drug Ra’s has plighted him with, all those months ago, had been in the wine he was served before their wedding.

But it wouldn't keep a man like his husband, old and well versed in trickery, down for long. Tim had only hoped for enough time to free his allies.

And he had gotten it.

“Beloved. I imagined you halfway through the land, eager to be back in your people’s arms.”

“Don’t insult either of us like this. You know I need to see this done, and I don’t trust anyone else with this particular task.”

“To take me down?”

“To properly gloat, more like it.”

“Now you are the one taking us both for fools. You don’t gloat. It’s unbecoming.”

Tim shrugs, cape flowing behind him as he steps out by Ra’s side, looking down as well.

For weal or woe, those were their subjects.

“You don’t think I deserve it?”

Ra’s does the elegant, royal version of a snort.

“More than anyone, dear one. It was masterfully played, I have to admit. I could find no cracks in your acting.”

Tim turns, back to the balcony edge. The venomous green eyes meet his, then. King and Consort, truly face to face for maybe the first time in months.

They should, by all means, be fighting. But Tim is under no delusions; he knows Ra’s physical strength is greater. His aim is to entertain him long enough for reinforcements to reach them.

Why Ra’s decided to humour him, he wasn’t sure.

“There was no act, Ra’s. Not truly.”

“As much as the thought warms my heart, Beloved, I don’t think you love me. Not like the drug intended. How, pray tell, did you manage to avoid it? I’ve seen you eating food coated in it. Sometimes, by my own hand.”

Tim just raises his flask to him.

“Your only mistakes were taking Damian prisoner, and kidnapping our people to serve under your crown.”

If he was annoyed by Tim derailing his answer, he didn’t show it. Seemingly content to play along, Ra’s gave his words proper thought.

“The first brought you into my castle, taking a vital player from the enemy’s board, the latter gave me the opportunity I needed to go to war with your father. I don’t see anything to regret there.”

Tim took another sip of the tea, now cold, that Cass had filled the bottle with.

“And your greatest overview”, he continued, “what you should have suspected from the first moment, was this:”- the drink inside the flask sloshed when he raised it-” I despise tea.

“I fail to see how this all ties together. Indulge me, dear one? Our time with each other is coming to an end, after all.”

Tim was all for gaining time. And maybe a little part of himself wanted to boast a bit, too.

“When Talia came back to her senses, after the drug you used on her to make her take Damian to you wore out, she came seeking for help to set him free.”

A yell, somewhere far away. Clash of metal and fire in the distance; Ra’s troops were back from their empty mission, straight into Harper and Cullen’s awaiting forces.

“Barbara is most likely the best alchemist out there. With Lady Thompkins’ help, she made an antidote”, another sip. “It goes perfect with tea, disgusting as it is. And Jason, taken for dead and rescued by Talia all those years ago, who nursed him back to health under your own roof without you being the wiser, already had a perfect cover built here. He just needed to say he’d been on a mission to explain the time he’d spent between leaving Talia’s care and me coming here, and then volunteer to care for me. And my sister’s presence can only be noticed by those she wants to; your men had no chance to spot the two enemies among their ranks.”

Under them, the innocents in Alqatala were hanging white bed sheets and clothes out of their windows. A beg to be spared, and show of surrender. From up there, it looked like dots of victory splashed in the canvas of a won over Kingdom.

“I could never act like I was in love with you, for months, and be perfectly convincing. And the only way you’d let me even smell the ink on your important documents was if you believed me completely besotted. So I’d take your drugs each breakfast, and break out of their power with my afternoon tea. Give out orders, converge with my spies, and then eat your food again so I’d be in perfect condition for dinner. If I could help it, each moment spent in your presence had to be drugged stupid. As a side effect of taking the drug is memory loss, every proof of my treasonous acts were hidden from my stupid, submissive, deeply-in-love other self. Truly, it was perfect. Except the headaches from taking so many corrosive substances, so often. Those were a pain to deal with.”

That wasn’t, of course, the only consequence of mixing powerful drugs. His colds were harsher and more recurrent than ever, and he feared the approaching winter with genuine horror, but that was information his enemy didn’t need to have.

Ra’s threw his head back and laughed. It was a hearty laugh, from deep within his chest and charged with unexpected affection. Tim tilted his head, and was taken back when his husband stretched his hands to pull the cape closed over his chest, fastening it with an emerald and gold pin.

“I do have a question”, he forces himself to say, unwilling to blush when Ra’s hands accidentally (or maybe not so much) bumped into one of the marks still fresh in his neck.

“You’ve answered mine, Beloved, so go ahead. Marriage is a give and take, after all.”

The irony wasn’t lost. 

“When things started to go wrong in this war, when attacks didn’t reach and our troops failed by a hair… you are not stupid. You must have known the enemy under your roof, the one planning your strategies, was the most likely cause. Why not kill me?”

Ra’s laughed again. Something in Tim’s stomach twitched.

He had won here. So why did it feel like Ra’s had been the one to take the treasure?

“We both agreed to this game, when you accepted my suit and we got married.”

“I was the one who suggested/”

“Shh, dear one. You could have backed out, told your family you regretted your choice, and no one would have blamed you. But you took the drugged wine that night, fully aware of the dangers it contained. You blushed during our wedding, and shed a tear when I took your hand and sat you on my throne to receive your crown. The stakes were high, higher than anything any of us could imagine, and you still decided to risk it. Had I discovered your siblings and drove them out, there’d been no one left to fed you the antidote that allowed this entire operation to begin with. Or I could have chosen to dismiss you to an abandoned wing of the palace, happy enough after taking you from your family and thus removing their most dangerous player, without the risk of giving you power.” 

Tim’s throat felt dry. Ra’s thumb pressed in the mark one last time, before he drew his hands away and clasped them behind his back. His eyes as he watched Tim were warm on the surface, but there was an underlying of want under them that made him nervous. The intensity rivaled the one he had felt when they shared bed and love just hours ago.

“You played the game beautifully, played by the rules, and still won. Killing you without proof, with only my suppositions, right as they might have been, would have been like admitting defeat.” 

“You still lost”, he bites out, hand unclasping the pin keeping the cape tight and letting it fall to the ground behind him, green and gold silk against dark stone.

Ra’s smile became wicked. No warmth left.

“Had I killed you when I first suspected you”, he whispers, stepping closer, and this sudden intimacy makes Tim shiver, but not from pleasure. “I would have missed the opportunity you gave me tonight. And I got a taste of the full extent of your power, Beloved.”

He closed the distance between them, hands on his shoulders to keep him still. Too shocked to even try to get away, Tim almost forgot to blink.

He had expected rage. He had expected disdain. He had expected a sword to the gut.

He hadn’t expected respect, admiration and desire, hot and piercing like a knife still red from the forge.

Ra’s breath, sweet from the wine and warm against the cold of the night, brushed his cheek as his husband bent closer.

“How marvelous it was, to witness you fight against yourself. Are you the only foe you consider worthy of your attention? Can anyone else come close to even challenge your cunning mind?”

Too late, Tim heard the footsteps approaching their location. His brothers, most likely, here to help him take care of Ra’s.

The beautiful dagger sliding into his body felt almost sensual, intimate. Like he was being touched by a lover, instead of steel. He shivered all the same, the gasp escaping his mouth making Ra’s draw a deeper breath. 

His laugh, this time, was low. Private, just between them.

“Do make sure you don’t die from this. I’ll come for you one day, and I expect a proper confrontation then. No more masks between us, dear one. Next time it’ll be just you and me, your force against mine, and my price for trouncing one as enthralling as yourself will be to properly own you, from that day and all the ones that’ll follow.”

When Ra’s hands left him, Tim fell to his knees. He heard the door slamming against the wall and his brothers’ voices, their shouts and curses as they rushed to his aid.

“Until then, my Consort.”

He saw him jumping down, to a certain death if it were anyone else, but could not make a move to follow. The knife had pierced something, he could tell, and the blood soaked his white nightgown and the green cape, still on the floor under him.

It was Dick (Oh gods, Dick, how had he missed his oldest brother, how painful had it been to forget his smile, scent and fierce protection) who gathered him in his arms, his desperate calls that made him snap out of the pain. He barely caught sight of Jason and Damian running to the balcony edge and looking down, then yelling orders to the men that had followed them into the room.

Ra’s had escaped.

But he would not stay away for long, he knew. His last words were both a threat and declaration of intent. It was a new war, one where Tim wouldn’t be fighting for him and against himself. Now, he would depend only on his wits and resources. There’d be no master plan carefully laid and enveloped in deceit. It’d be an all out war, two predators hunting each other, where losing meant death for Ra’s, and for Tim...something even worse.

Ra’s was coming.

Well, Tim thought, closing his fingers around the silver hilt of the dagger, his brothers worried voices fading into nothing as consciousness began to waver, let him come.

I’ll be waiting, my husband.

[awhitehead17]

Memory Matters

Tim & Ra’s, Tim & Dick & Jason, Amnesia, Amnesiac Tim, Angst, confusion, Suspicions, Small bit of manipulation.

Summary: When Tim wakes up with no memory of his life, he has no idea on what to do or think until a man greets him and offers some guidance. From that very first meeting Tim knew something was off about him and he comes to learn that everything is not what it seems.

A/N: This is done for 'amnesia' on my Batfam bingo card and also developed from an ask I got a few weeks ago. This is part 1 of 2. 

Enjoy! :D

Waking up was strange.

He tried processing some of his thoughts as he takes in the unfamiliar ceiling above him and finds that nothing comes to mind. There were no thoughts but only the ones he’s thinking now. What was going on? What happened?

Initial panic starts spiralling inside of him once he realises that he can’t remember what happened. The panic gets worse when he realises he couldn’t remember anything. What was going on? Where was he? What happened?

He could feel his heart pounding inside of his chest and his breathing becoming quicker with each passing second. Why was it hard to breathe? What was going on? He couldn’t he breathe, why can’t he breathe?

In the back of his mind some thoughts filter through, ones that didn’t feel like his own. Control your breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth. You need to calm down. Those thoughts seemed to be controlled and not panicked. They didn’t help much though because he kept panicking. He was now beginning to become light-headed, his heart was pounding and his chest felt tight. Why couldn’t he remember anything? What was going on?

 In through the nose and out through the mouth.

That thought came in his mind again and not knowing what else to do he listened to it. Breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth like it instructed. After a while he becomes thankful that he listened to the odd thought in his mind because soon enough he could breathe again, the tightness in his chest eases and his heart also slows down as his head clears.

Once he seemed to be in control, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and surveys his surroundings. He was currently on a plush bed with a thin blanket over him. In front of him was a wide rectangular room. A desk and chair were pushed against the adjacent wall where a small window was above it, a door was on the opposite side and on the wall opposite to the bed there was another door.

There wasn’t much else to take in, the walls were a cream yellow, the furniture was brown, and the bedding was a deep red colour. While sat on the bed he felt out of place, he was somewhere he couldn’t remember and surrounded by things he didn’t know. It felt wrong. He felt wrong and he couldn’t describe why. Though it wasn’t hard to guess that his memory problem was having an impact on his feelings.

He needs to find out more. He needs answers.

Staying on the bed wasn’t getting him anywhere so he decides to get up. Once on his feet he finds that he’s dressed in simple clothes, a plain red shirt and loose black pants with nothing on his feet. He moves gingerly about the room, peering at the furniture trying to pick up on anything that would tell him more. There were no pictures hung up in the room and there seemed to be nothing personal lying about which could give him some clues.

However, just as he was about to enter the door opposite the bed, the door to his right opens. It reveals a man in a long green and gold robe who strides into the room like he owns it. As the unknown man walks in he feels all of his hair stand on end and not knowing what else to do he quickly creates distance between them by standing on the opposite side of the bed.

A tense atmosphere develops within the room as they stare at one another, both silently observing the other. He can’t help but notice that no good feelings come from seeing this man. He felt like he knew him but again, it didn’t feel right, it felt wrong like something was off. He simply couldn’t remember what or why to justify those feelings.

“Nice to see you finally awake. How do you feel?” The man asks.

He swallows, “Where am I?”

The stranger doesn’t seem surprised by the question or his bluntness. “I understand that you may be confused, please allow me to explain.” He starts to slowly pace the room, sending glances at him with every few steps. “You were involved in an accident. There were… bad people after you, ones that wanted to hurt you. They nearly did but luckily I was nearby and got you away, unfortunately not without damage. From the accident you lost your memories. You’re here because it’s safe and because I want to help you.”

He blinks at the man as he explains. He’s lost his memories. Something bad happened and now he can’t remember anything because of it. What was so bad to cause something like that to happen? Who was after him and why? He had so many questions he wanted to ask but he found he couldn’t voice any of them. The man opposite him seems to understand his silence.

“It’s going to take time to recover. It’s undetermined if you’ll ever get your memories back, but know this: you are safe here. No one can hurt you anymore, I promise.”

He doesn’t know why, but those words send chills down his spine.

Somehow he finds his voice. “What’s my name?” He asks in the end. While he certainly wants to know the major stuff he also needs to know the little stuff, all the little details he no longer knows but feels like he really should. He can work his way up to the big stuff.

The man’s gaze pierces him, “Your name is Timothy Drake and I am Ra’s al Ghul.” He pauses and heads back towards the door he originally walked through. “Now come with me. We can talk and start getting you up to speed with things you would like to know.”

He hesitates, going with this man doesn’t sit right with him but what other choice does he have? He can’t remember anything and if this man can tell him the answers he needs, then why not?

In the end he cautiously walks towards him, his bare feet stepping on the thin carpet on the floor until he reaches the door, then together they exit the room and head down a corridor he unsurprisingly doesn’t know.

 Time seems to blend together after waking up with no memories for the first time. Tim plods through each day, trying to keep himself busy but most of all trying to learn who he was. Despite his amnesia he still remembers a lot of things, he still has those basic functions where he can read, write and name things. The only thing he seems to be missing is information about himself, his family, friends, basically his life.

It frustrates him that he can’t remember them, he really wants to but his mind is blank every time he tries to think about them. Ra’s doesn’t help in that regards either. The man doesn’t offer information to Tim about his personal life before the accident. He does, however, help Tim everywhere else he can. Ra’s teaches Tim about the world which he had forgotten, teaches him some history, how to cook, what types of nature there was, he even teaches him some self-defence and how to fight.

Even though the man comes across as friendly and helps him, Tim still gets an uneasy feeling every time he’s near Ra’s. Even though it’s been weeks since he first woke up, the feeling hasn’t gone away. It also doesn’t help that there’s a voice in the back of his mind telling him he should be getting out of there, that he should get as far away from Ra’s as far as possible.

Tim’s never listened to that voice because where would he go? He’s living in a place that’s in the middle of nowhere surrounded by nothing but vast emptiness. If he did leave he would be on his own with no hopes of having shelter, food, transport or anything! Also, if he did leave how would he start finding his family? How would he know where to go? He’s sure there was a way somehow but until he works out the solution, he’s stuck where he was for now.

It’s now, weeks after Tim first woke up, that something major happens. He and Ra’s were in what resembles a living room playing a game of chess when the window suddenly explodes into thousands of tiny pieces.

Tim startles so badly he actually falls off the sofa. There in front of him were two men, one was dressed like a bat who had a cowl over his head and the other wore black and blue spandex with a mask over half of his face. Next to him Ra’s stands up straight, whips out a sword from somewhere and stands defensively against the two attackers.

“Enough is enough Ra’s, let him go!” The black and blue man snarls. He bares his teeth and gets into a defensive position opposite them.

Ra’s looks over his shoulder and down at Tim, “Timothy, remember when you first woke and I told you that bad people wanted to hurt you?”

All Tim could do was nod in answer. His voice was caught in his throat as he stares at the two men in front of them. There was an unfamiliar tugging happening inside of him, there was something about them but Tim couldn’t put his finger on what it was. They seemed familiar but he doesn’t know how.

Ra’s authoritative voice breaks his thoughts, “It was these exact people who wanted you harm you. Go to your room and do not come out until I come and get you. Understand?”

Tim numbly nods again, still staring at the other two men with wide eyes. Before he could react further the black and blue man was shouting and rushing towards them, Ra’s meets him halfway and in a blink they were engaged in a fight. The man dressed like a bat soon joins them fighting.

Not knowing what else to do Tim flees and heads towards his bedroom, doing exactly what Ra’s told him to do. As he runs through the corridors the tugging feeling doesn’t go away, it only seems to intensify.

He knows those people, somehow he knows them, but Ra’s said they wanted to hurt him. Did he know them because they had been after him before he had amnesia? In the back of his mind something was screaming at him, telling hm to go back and fight, this is a chance to get free and to get away from Ra’s.

He ignores it and runs into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him as he passes through it. After shutting it, Tim slumps against the door with a heavy sigh. Who were those people and why did they seem familiar? That tugging feeling was still inside of him and it’s like an itch he can’t scratch, they mean something to him but what?

Tim doesn’t get to dwell on his thoughts for very long because suddenly there was a bang on the other side of the door. Tim yelps in surprise and darts away from the door just in time as it gets flung open. A different guy from the other two men enters his room. This man was dressed in a leather jacket, body armour, gun holsters, the guns he happened to be carrying and a red helmet. The third stranger looks around the room as if searching for something and pauses when he finds Tim standing a couple feet away staring at him.

Tim has no idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the way the guy relaxes and puts his guns away. “Thank god. Right, we don’t have much time but the planes out back so let’s go.”

Before he could react, the helmet guy was turning around and exiting the room. Tim doesn’t follow as he’s completely frozen in place. A few moments later he reappears at the doorway, like he realised that Tim wasn’t following him.

“What the fuck Tim? Come on, let’s go, now’s not really the time to get lazy.”

Tim blinks at the man in bewilderment. He knows Tim’s name and just like with the other two, that tugging feeling inside of him was there. He knows this guy too but once again he can’t place who he was or why he felt familiar. Then again he may know his name because he was after him for bad reasons.

Tim’s lack of response seems to agitate the man because suddenly he was storming towards Tim and grabbing his wrist. “Alright replacement, let’s go. Enough of this shit.”

By the time Tim gets over himself he was being dragged down the hallway. After a few stumbling steps, Tim starts to fight back. “Hey! Let me go asshole!” He starts hitting the man’s wrist to try and loosen his grip, he kicks out towards his legs in hopes of gaining some advantage. The guy was huge in comparison to him, so Tim would have to get sneaky in order to break free.

“Ow hey! What the fuck? Tim!”

Tim twists out of the grip and uses some of the moves Ra’s had taught him to get away. Once free of the man’s grip he jumps backwards and creates some space between them. “Leave me alone, I have no idea who you are but I’m not going anywhere with you!”

The man falters at his words, “What? What the hell do you mean Tim?”

Tim goes to respond but doesn’t get the chance to. The man before him was speaking up again, muttering “oh shit” before turning around and running down the corridor.

“Timothy, are you alright.”

Tim looks over his shoulder to find Ra’s walking towards him with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt.”

His wrist was a little red from being grabbed but apart from that he was fine physically. Mentally, however, was another story.

 Ra’s refuses to give the answers he want. It’s been a couple days since the attack and Ra’s wouldn’t tell him anything. It was grating on Tim’s nerves. Not only was Ra’s suddenly being very secretive but the tugging feeling inside of him has not disappeared since those masked men attacked. Tim can’t explain how or why, but he knows those men somehow.

It doesn’t help that Ra’s is being secretive about the whole thing. He wouldn’t tell Tim anything about them or even why they attacked other than ‘they wanted to take you and harm you’. Ra’s had been secretive prior to the attack anyway, there were things he refused to tell Tim about regarding his memories (particularly anything personal such as family and friends) but now the man just seems on edge all the time and would not communicate with Tim like he had been before.

Tim had been wary of Ra’s before the attack, but now he was just downright suspicious of the man. Something was going on and it was something to do with those masked people Ra’s refused to tell him anything about.

Another few days had gone by by the time Ra’s finally approaches him. He was sat in his bedroom, minding his own business by thinking about the life he couldn’t remember, when the man walks in. Whilst he doesn’t say anything against the actions, Tim hates it when Ra’s walks in without an invitation, it makes him feel like he’s trapped in the one place he feels the most secure.

“Timothy,” Ra’s greets him.

Tim sits up straighter on his bed but doesn’t move to get up. “Ra’s. What can I do for you?”

“There are matters I need to attend to, which means I will be leaving for a few days.” The man informs him. “I have security surrounding the area just in case another attack occurs while I am away to help you feel safe, however once I return we will be leaving and staying at another residence. Please be prepared to leave as soon as I return.”

Before Tim could say anything the man leaves the room. Tim blinks at the now empty space feeling annoyed, so what, he doesn’t get a say in the matter? He’s just expected to drop everything and go with Ra’s? Of course he doesn’t have a lot to begin with but that wasn’t the point.

The way he treats Tim seems to be more like a prisoner or a slave that’s supposed to be nothing but obedient. He doesn’t know how long this behaviour had been going on for before he recognised it but it certainly adds to the list of reasons why he’s more suspicious of Ra’s than before.

Ra’s leaves that night and for the first time Tim finds that he’s on his own. Well he wasn’t technically on his own, there were others about but Tim wouldn’t interact with them so he may as well be on his own anyway. Instead of going to bed like he normally would Tim decides to explore.

With Ra’s away it means he has more leeway to explore the place he’s been living in since he woke up with amnesia. There were rooms which Ra’s wouldn’t allow him in, at first Tim had respected that, understood that it wasn’t his place but now he doesn’t give a fuck. These locked rooms just mean more secrets and Tim wants to know them.

He goes to one of the rooms and picks the lock with some tweezers he had found, this was something he didn’t even realise he could do but yet it felt so natural to do it. Tim walks into the room and closes the door behind him.

He surveys the room in curiosity, finding that there were multiple safes scattered around the room attached to the walls all at different heights, there was a large set of draws pushed into one corner of the room and finally in the centre of the room was a long metal table. Tim has no idea what this room could be used for. It was clean and not dusty but there wasn’t anything that stood out to him.

He goes over to the draws and experimentally tugs one and blinks in surprise when it opens up. Tim couldn’t help but snort, even without his memories he knows that this is just poor security. Whoever made this, probably Ra’s, didn’t think very hard about how to keep unwanted hands from wondering where they shouldn’t be. Either that, or he was too confident in his ability to stop something from entering.

The first draw has nothing in it. The second has several metal pieces in it, they were what Tim would call ninja stars but these were in the shape of a bat. He picks one up gently and weighs it in his hand, as he does a strange feeling washes over him. The metal pieces felt familiar, like he knows what they are and where they came from, though once again he just can’t remember the details. He puts it back and moves on.

The third draw has more of a variety of items which all seems to be communication gear. There were a few different earpieces, a walkie-talkie and a headset of sorts. What catches Tim’s eye was the little black box that was sat there. There were a couple different buttons on the side, it has a screen on the front which was dark but apart from it didn’t seem anything special. Tim pockets it, deciding that he can play with it later on.

Having had enough of the room, Tim closes the draw and exits the room, making sure to shut the door behind him. He can come back another time to try and work out a way into the safes around the room. He locks the door and moves onto the next room he’s not allowed in.

After searching through three rooms he’s not allowed in, Tim calls it a night. Even though Ra’s is gone and will be for a couple of days, Tim doesn’t want to push his luck. He can explore the rest tomorrow after some sleep.

Once he’s locked the third door he heads back to his bedroom. When he gets there he flops down onto the bed prepared to fall asleep in that position. Tim doesn’t though, because a couple seconds later he remembers the device he had pocketed from the first room.

He brings it back out and studies it. The device wasn’t much bigger than his palm, there were no obvious marks on it to say what it was nor where there any labels saying what the buttons were. Tim fiddles with it, clicks a couple buttons and tries to turn it on.

Tim spends five minutes trying to get it to work. When it doesn’t do anything he huffs in frustration, “Well this is just stupid. Unless it’s out of charge or something.”

Unknowing to him at the time, his voice is the thing that turns it on. Tim almost drops the device when the screen suddenly lights up, seconds later there was a symbol appearing on the screen in the shape of a bat. Tim frowns, what was it with all the bat shaped stuff? Was all this from that man dressed as a bat who attacked him days ago? Why did Ra’s have his stuff?

Tim fiddles with the device further but doesn’t get anywhere with it. All that happens was the bat symbol stays on the screen. In the end he gives up and decides to actually go to bed, deciding he can work out what it is in the morning.

When Tim wakes up the next morning the first thing he does is check the device. He’s a little disappointed to find that the same bat symbol as before was still on the screen. He puts it down and starts making a mental plan of what he’s going to do for that day as he gets ready.

His mental plan soon goes out the window 10 minutes later as he’s having breakfast. He was in the middle of eating his toast when he could hear commotion going on around the house. In an instant Tim’s alert. Could it be those masked men from the other day again? Could it be someone else? Hopefully the security Ra’s had set up do their job and stops them from getting to him.

Just in case, Tim grabs the nearest thing to him that he could use as a weapon which happened to be a butter knife. Not the most dangerous thing in the world but for now it’ll do.

Tim stays standing in the kitchen trying his hardest to listen to what was going on outside. There were shouts and what seemed to be gunfire but then it all suddenly stops and everything goes silent. Tim wasn’t sure what he was expecting but the front door opening and a familiar voice shouting in was not something he thought about.

“Tim? Tim you in here?” It shouts. As Tim hears the door close he moves from his spot and tucks himself behind the kitchen door in attempts to hide himself. Despite the voice seeming familiar he had no idea who it was.

“Timmy, come on buddy, we’re here.” Another voice speaks out. It was another voice that seemed so familiar yet Tim still couldn’t work out who it belonged to.

“Right, I’ll check the top floor and you scout down here. Yell if you find him, who knows what else has happened to him.”

Tim stops breathing as he hears footsteps heading towards the kitchen. He listens as the person moves about the living room before entering the kitchen to where Tim was hiding. He tightens his grip on the knife getting ready to attack when the person finally comes to view.

It was the black and blue man from the other day. It was the same attackers after all. The figure sweeps the room but as he turns around to leave his eyes catch Tim half hidden by the door. He freezes in place and holds his hands up, “Tim, I know your probably confused kiddo, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Tim swallows thickly. There were a mixture of things screaming at him right now, telling him to trust this figure in front of him, that he knows this person, how his words were the truth.

Not moving from his spot Tim glares at him, “What do you want? Who are you?”

“You sent an alert to us last night. Do you remember that? We were nearby ready to come and get you out of here. We’re sorry we didn’t the other day but Ra’s isn’t here right now meaning this is a perfect opportunity for us to go.”

Tim thinks about this, how did he send an alert? The only thing that would have…. his eyes go wide at the realisation. That device with the bat on it was some sort of signal.

He thinks over everything that’s recently happened. How secretive Ra’s has been since these people attacked the first time, how he wouldn’t tell Tim anything about his personal life or who his family were, how the device and bat shaped things were locked up.

“We know each other don’t we?” Tim asks tentatively. When the man smiles and nods Tim carries on. “You’re not going to hurt me then?”

The guy shakes his head, “Absolutely not. Tim… we’re family okay. I’m your brother and so is the other one who’s here with me. We’ve come to take you home.”

Despite Tim not knowing him, even he could pick out the hope in this man’s voice. This was his brother, he does have a family.

But what if he’s lying? He could just be saying that to get Tim to go with him.

“Tim, I know it’s hard to believe but please trust me here. Not only that, but back home we may have a way for you to get your memories back.”

Now that has certainly got Tim’s attention. If there was one thing Ra’s has not offered or even spoken about was getting Tim’s memories back. He just pushed the subject to the side, stating that it’ll only be a matter of time on whether he gets them back or not.

“If I go with you, what’s going to happen?” Tim questions him. There was no way he was going to go with them without not knowing what was going on. Even if the man tells him a load of bullshit, at least it’ll be something.

“We’ll take you home, get you looked at and try to get your memories back. From there I can’t say, it depends on the outcome of whether you get your memories back or not. But the most important thing is that you’ll be home.”

“And I’ll be away from Ra’s?”

“100% away from him.”

Tim swallows thickly and makes a decision. He loosens his grip on the knife and steps out from his hiding place. “Fine.”

If something goes wrong, which is highly likely, Tim will try and get out as soon as he can.

Things become a blur of events from there. They meet with another man, the one with the red helmet who was carrying a bag over his shoulder. The two masks have a quick quiet word while Tim gathers up some of his belongings. Afterwards they leave the house and drive a good 20 minutes away until they come across the plane.

Not having seen anything like this before (from what he can remember), Tim stares at everything. It felt so familiar yet so foreign. In the end he straps into one of the chairs and tries to ignore the looks the two men keep sending his way. Tim still didn’t know whether he could trust them or not, but all he could do now was wait as there was no turning back once they lift off into the air.

When they arrive at their destination Tim is hurried out of the plane and into some sort of cave. There were many floors to the place all with different equipment on them. Workout stuff, computers and monitors, vehicles, costumes, lots of different items… and was that a giant penny?

Tim gapes at everything, hating that again it all feels familiar but yet he doesn’t remember any of it.

“Well?”

The voice snaps Tim out of his staring. He looks ahead to find two men coming towards the trio. The black and blue man instantly steps forwards and addresses them, “We’ve got him and just as predicted Ra’s wasn’t there. The only problem is that he’s still amnesic. He didn’t recognise me and I had to convince him to come.”

The two new men look at him and Tim stares back, fighting the urge to shrink under their gazes. They were both large men who easily tower over him. One had black hair, was wearing a white button up and slacks, the other was green and wearing a blue cape. In the back of his mind Tim knew who these people were but unsurprisingly couldn’t place their names.

The black-haired man addresses him. “Tim, thank you for coming. I understand that it must be confusing but hopefully we can sort everything out.” He raises a hand to his friend, “This is J’onn. He may be able to help you recover your memories if you let him.”

Tim looks him over sceptically. He has a feeling there’s more to it and how he’s not going to like it, however if he wants his memories then he needs to do whatever it takes to get them back.

“How?” Tim questions. He still wants to know the details of course.

“I will have to enter your mind, young one. I can hopefully work out what has been the cause of your amnesia, whether it was a natural cause or forced. To do that, I need permission from you to enter your mind.”

Tim glances at everyone else to see them staring at him. He looks back at J’onn. “If you find the cause would you be able to fix it?”

He gives Tim an earnest look, “I will not lie to you but I cannot promise anything. If I can, I will do my best to fix the problem, however there is a possibility I will not be able to. I cannot say until I have look.”

Tim swallows. He doesn’t like the idea of someone poking around his mind, except he wants his memories back. He needs them back and if this is an opportunity to do so then he has to take it.

“Okay. I give you permission, do whatever you need to if it means getting my memory back.”

After that they make Tim lie down on a bed they have in a medical bay, J’onn stands at one end near his head while the others gather at his feet. Tim blinks up at the ceiling which was soon replaced with J’onn’s face. “I need you to relax and let me in. I will not do anything other than search through your mind for the cause of your memory loss.”

Tim nods his understanding, he takes a breath and lets it out, forcing himself to relax as J’onn places his hands by the sides of his head. Once he touches Tim’s head, Tim’s world goes dark.

[awkwardbluefish]

33 with Tim

Ahh the lovely @omgiamwish I would write anything with Tim in it for you. So here’s some angst!

#33 - “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

—

The silence was thick in the small room. A fire flickers and patterns dance across the shadows of the cream coloured walls in a quick and deadly tango. It would be beautiful in any other situation.

“It’s your decision, detective.” Ras drawls, poison green eyes shimmering in amusement. The gold on his robes sparkle in the dimness of the shadows.

Tim tilts his head, blood escaping between clenched teeth and clamped lips. He resists snarling, puts on a face of stone. Ras may this game but he sure as hell won’t see how it affects him. He’s stone and nothing more. An empty abyss with no emotions to be seen to the open or exploited.

“You’ve made that well aware.” Tim indulges, swallowing the copper taste down his throat. He licks his teeth, cringing internally at the taste of his gums.

Ras moves forwards and it’s irritatingly elegant. Gold glimmers and dances with the flames and the flames flicker against the silver of the katana. His robe falls over him perfectly and the sleeve travels up as his fingers travels against Tim’s cheek.

Tim swallows up the copper in his mouth, spits it out.

The gentle brush of fingers turn sharp, stinging against his face, emitting a strangled shout from across the room. Fingers cradle his jaw, wrench it towards him with a warning snarl. Tim glares right back with hatred in his eyes.

“Make a choice detective and make it soon.” Ras spits and it’s clear he’s done playing games. Funny since this whole thing is just a big fat game.

His robe flares behind him as he wrenches the paper door open, slamming it shut. His figure shakes behind it and Tim watches with satisfaction at his loss of elegance and composure. His feet echo on the wooden flooring.

“Drake,” Damian croaks and Tim hates how small and terrified he sounds. He glances at him, lifts his lips up in some resemblance of a smile. He never was good at this part. Dick was and that’s what Damian needed right now. He will be with him soon.

Tim works his jaw, swallows down more saliva mixed with the coppery taste of blood. “I’m fine, Dames.” He attempts to reassure. He doesn’t think it works.

“You’re bleeding and in chains!” Damian retaliates with a wrecked cry. He looks close to tears and his chin wobbles and crinkles up just like a child’s. He is a child, Tim reminds himself.

“So are you,” Tim reminds gently.

He lets out a slow breath, releases it and tugs his arms forward. The shackles around his wrists make a deadly song as they clink together in the quiet room. Tim takes another breath, intending to reassure his baby brother that he is fine, that he is alright and that he will get Damian out of here when the door slides open.

Talia Al Ghul’s heels click as she steps into the room. She clicks her tongue, eyes as poisoned green as her fathers trained on Damian with sharp disapproval. “Worrying is a weakness my son and it will not be tolerated in the league.”

He clamps his mouth shut at the poison dripping from her tone and watches as Damian lurches forward in frenzy desperation.

“Mother, help us! Get us out of here, please. We can escap-“ the slap bounces of the walls and Damian’s pleas fall short. Tim’s wrists and ankles burn as he strains himself forward with a snarl reverberating within his chest.

Talia doesn’t even so much as look his way. Her eyes are dark, angry. Her hand is still in the air, a warning.

Damian shrinks back, looking so hurt and small that Tim’s chest aches with so much hatred for that woman. How dare she, how dare she!

“What did I just say?” Her voice is cold in her anger and Damian curls into himself. “This behaviour will not be tolerated-“

“He will not be staying.” Tim cuts in, fierce and angry. The chains hold him back but he still struggles. His wrists bleed red and his ankles bruise and scrape. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Talia stops. Her hand lowers. “Ah,” She turns around slowly, green eyes captured in the dying flames of the room. “It seems you have made your choice.”

She nods to herself and then she’s advancing towards Damian. Damian tenses and do does Tim. A key glimmers in the middle of the room before it’s plunged into the chains tied around Damian’s wrist. They click open, clank onto the floor with a dull thud.

Talia straightens herself, pickets the key and walks away. Her heels click and she leaves without a glance back. Tim knows he’s been played but he knows he made the right choice when Damian sinks the slightest in relief. They won’t hurt him again.

The door shuts and Damian scrambled forward, throwing his arms around Tim’s shoulders and buries his face into his chest. Tim can feel him trembling so he buries his face in dark soft hair. The trembling doesn’t stop but neither of them move.

They know it won’t be long until Ras is back again.

“Timothy, you can’t.” His voice is wrecked and quiet.

“I can,” he replies. “And I have.”

The tears begin and spill over cheeks still round with baby fat. He shakes and he shakes because he knows what game his grandfather is playing. They both do.

Ras steps into the room, lips curved into the smile. Tim hates how accomplished he looks. Ras will win this time and Tim is letting him. He doesn’t mind, not really. But it does hurt that he’s putting his family through this pain.

“Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?” He asks and Tim’s heard this line before. With Dick, Duke, Cass and Steph.

And he replies just like he does every time that questions hits his ears. “Yes.” Even as Damian shakes his head widely, whispering out a mantras of ‘no’s.’

Ras nods. Just like before. “Very well.”

He doesn’t regret it as Damian screams as he’s ripped off of him. He doesn’t regret it when he’s dragged away by the chains on his wrists and the ones trapping his ankles. He’s limp, taking pleasure in making Ras’ life as hard as possible.

He knows he won’t regret it even when Jason’s crazed screams ricochet through the hall, drunk on a flashback that wasn’t real. This time.

He doesn’t regret it because he knows the rules of this game. Ras gave him his word, his promise that his family would be released if he chose it. Tim knows the ending of this particular game and he doesn’t mind it. He won’t regret it.

Ras wanted to know if his loyalty and stubbornness would get him killed one day.

That’s the game. And today Ras would know the answer.

And just before he’s thrown into the room of his next ‘test’ the words leak out into the open. Smug and quiet. “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

It would always be ‘yes.’

“Yes.”

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 9

The first time Barbara saw him, she thought she was seeing things.

The first time Barbara noticed Tim noticing him, she turned towards Dick while wondering out loud if she was seeing things. Dick had answered not-helpfully, "no, but I have been watching you both glaring at them monitors for a really good long time that my eyes are getting sore. And my eyes are kind of surgically and genetically modified."

Turning to Dinah for encouragement and/or clarification was not helping. She has been alternating her glare at the monitors, Tim, and when she saw Barbara's glare, she quipped, "this may be the beginning of a very, very interesting telenovela."

"What's a telenovela?" Dick wanted to know, there was a shit-eating grin on his face that was directed to Tim, who was still glaring at the monitors almost unblinkingly.

"It's... something I'd rather you don't know of..." Barbara replied mindlessly, trying to refocus at the scene on the monitors before her. But to say the sight was somewhere between odd and - dare she thought it - endearing would and should be constituted as an understatement.

There has been quite a ruckus in Gotham since the discovery of the bodies of the Court of Owls' High Council. Dick's data was sent over to the GCPD - discreetly and exempt from all or any incriminating snippets. The GCPD matched the names with the headless carcasses they had found throughout the city. The names were haphazard, and even Barbara could not figure out the direct relationship between most of the victims.

There were a few, however, whose link was rather obvious. One was a Harriet Arkham, and the other was a Philip Kane - both are members of Gotham's Founding Families. Philip Kane was the brother of Martha Wayne, wife of Dr. Thomas Wayne; whereas Harriet Arkham was the wife of Philip Kane and daughter of Amadeus Arkham, the founder of Arkham Asylum.

From then, they were stuck to the point where Barbara decided that they ought to keep the 'why' under 'because they were members of the Court of Owls', and not look further for the time being.

Figuring out the 'Bane' guy was proven to be less difficult.

Born in a prison city of Peña Dura at the island country of Santa Prisca, where his mother was incarcerated for an unknown reason, Bane was said to have overturned the 'corrupt and vile Government of Santa Prisca and came to Gotham for business opportunities' - or so his visa statement said. He came under a diplomatic passport, alright. But Barbara knew that the passport was forged nine ways to Sunday. The Immigration's excuse when an inquiry was sent to them - under the pretext as a federal agency - was that they have no information of legalities of Santa Prisca, and thus have no reason to deny Bane's entry to the US.

It has only been a month since Dick got 'integrated' to the Birds of Prey, but he was proven to be quite an asset. Bane-matters aside, there were a number of missions in which Dick's stealth skills - be it in an enter-exit situation or in providing physical backup - were immensely useful. Dick himself turned out to be quite an easygoing person - not to mention that he looked quite exotic and very well-built that is pleasing to the eyes.

When it comes to a new alias, he had requested the name 'Robin Goodfellow', and Barbara complied without thinking much aside for the literary reference. It was Tim who commented that he recalled that the name 'Robin' was something Dick's mother used to call him.

Today, they were greeted with a rather brutal scene from the surveillance cameras around the Wayne Tower. A group of heavily armed people was attacking someone who apparently was quite versed in fights and lethal forces. From a distance, the person looked like Ra's Al Ghul, the supposedly immortal Master of the League of Assassins in all of his gloriously extravagant costume. Green, overflowing cloak with gold lines that Barbara knew were made of real gold; loosely fitted tunic; a long wraparound belt made of very, very soft leather that hid several weapons; loosely fitted pants with cuffs on the ankles; and shoes that would cost approximately as much as her monthly electricity bills.

Given that Ra's Al Ghul was also the CEO of Algol Enterprises - the company that owned half of Gotham along with Wayne Industries, the attire was not overly curious. Barbara had met him once in a gala held to benefit the Gotham PD. Her subsequent investigation of Al Ghul eventually discovered that the man was using the Algol Enterprises as a front; and that his real money came from assassination business through a group called the League of Assassins. It was rumored that he controlled two-thirds of Africa's indigenous tribes, as well as two-thirds of the Indochine's indigenous tribes. And not a single law enforcement agency in the world had ever even come close to find evidence of the 'assassination business'.

The person was holding a small bundle of a child under one arm while fending both of them against costumed thugs. While he looked like he would be able to finish the job, Tim commented that several groups of armed thugs seemed to be coming on to help their fallen comrades.

"I'mma go and help." Dick eventually decided. "Really, people are having a free-for-all brawl right on my doorstep and they're not inviting me? Rude."

She didn't stop him, or Tim, when they went out and vaulted over several buildings toward the rooftop where the altercation was taking place. Once she could switch on Tim's goggle-cam, she realized that the man was not, in fact, Ra's Al Ghul.

He was a few inches shorter, but a lot wider than Al Ghul, albeit with similar jet black hair that was not as long as Al Ghul's would have. His features were decidedly caucasian, in spite of the tanned skin. His facial bone structures were square-ish, different than Al Ghul's longish structure. He was also still very young, approximately her age with the scowl, probably less without.

Within minutes, Dick and Tim's assistance of the man managed to drive the thugs away. The next step should be - if the guy was willing - Tim would take them to the Birds' safehouse. Otherwise, and if the guy was not willing to be persuaded, Tim would place a tracker so that Barbara could figure out who they were.

Right now, though, Barbara wondered if Tim would be as effective and diplomatic as she needed him to be and not affected by the other man's... charisma.

Tim was smitten. Clearly and absolutely. Every inch of his body language screamed, 'hi, let's frolic. And by frolic, I don't mean the PG-rated one!' - and Dick confirmed her suspicions by giving a stage-whisper through the comm-links, "O, did our kitten has just reached puberty?"

She didn't groan. Oh wait, she did. "I was hoping he won't get it for another year or two - decades, that is. Or ever. Mama cat is sharpening her shotgun's bullets by now, I think." she quipped back.

"What even, you two... I can hear you, you know," Tim growled at them and glared at Dick for a moment before turning back to the other man. "But, anyway. Hi, hello! We're with the Oracle and would like to extend the invitation to you and your... charge here to get some rest, and maybe stitches," he told the stranger. "I'm Stray, by the way."

"I'm Talon," Dick waved at the guy from a safe distance - both out of range of his sword and of Tim's claws. Tim, on the other hand, stood a mere few feet away right in the guy's personal bubble.

"I have heard of the Oracle. I am the Red Ghost." The stranger growled between gritted teeth. "We duly appreciate your hospitality, gentlemen, madame. Especially since I reckon our reservation at the Ritz has likely been compromised."

At the comment, Barbara promptly searched for new reservations of the presidential or junior suites made under Al Ghul's company, name, or anyone linked to Ra's Al Ghul. She found one, hidden deep under several shell companies and nominees, for the Presidential Suite.

She also found the bug planted within the hotel's international server that would alert whoever planted that thing for reservations under about three hundred names, including some quite formidable politicians and dignitaries. Being - as Tim said it - the data hoarder that she was, she downloaded and stored the names for future references. Maybe one of these days, she could send herself on vacation to a Ritz somewhere under one of those names. If she's lucky, somebody might try to assassinate her and she could practice her defense and evasion skills.

Come to think of it, a girls' night out in a presidential suite sounded quite cozy. Adding assassins or ninjas to the mix would've been the highlight of their year.

She shook herself out of the daydream and refocused on Tim. The little child has been set on the ground and was scrutinizing Tim intently.

"I am Damian Al Ghul Wayne," he stated in an oh-so-high-pitched-yet-so-regal voice. "I duly thank and shall accept your hospitality before continuing my journey to reach my father, Bruce."

The pen in Barbara's hand fell to the floor.

"Houston," Dick quipped, "we have a problem."

[iphoenixrising]

For 700 Followers!

Hi babe.

That is terribly angsty and now I’m intrigued.

(Just a note for babe not familiar with No Home for Dead Birds or Fracture: I write a scene in which Tim literally has a gun to head. This is not lighthearted angst, please be warned if you read this.)

**

At one time, his colors had been red, gold, and green.

At one time, he’d been part of something bigger, something important. A legacy.

At one time, he’d been able to fly without being afraid of falling.

Being Robin had been the epitome. Even with all the terrible things he’d endured, all the injuries, all the catastrophes, all the insane megalomaniacal baddies breathing down his neck, he wouldn’t have traded the tunic for anything in the world.

(Dick had known it, had known how painful it was for Tim give it up once his Dad found out.)

He would have died with the R on his chest and never had a single regret.

Realistically, he couldn’t have been Robin forever, and he’d known that someday he would have to give it up and either move on with his life as a regular person, or take on another name, another mask, to keep fighting the good fight.

He hadn’t expected Dick would take it without a thank-you or fuck you to mark the end. That hadn’t been in the plan.

But it’s fine because Dick was the first and Robin had been his anyway, right?

Right.

Wrong.

Staring down the .45 in hand, the gun his father hadn’t had the chance to use to save his own life, Tim Drake wonders how it all came down to this.

(Last one left standing. Of fucking course.)

How it had all come out so badly, how he could barely step foot back in Gotham, how he had to avoid the Manor, the Carriage House, his own family home. How he couldn’t pick up the phone or answer texts coming from his former team. How he could barely keep himself the fuck together now that Bruce was back. How his hands would start to shake when the Manor phone number popped up (Alfred). How his mind’s eye would go back to Dick at the Big Computer in the Batsuit, telling him they were still equals. How he would imagine what would happen if he hadn’t caught himself when that zip line was cut. How he would sit in his safe house, off the Bat radar, and mourn the times when he was actually–

(happy)

–part of a family.

The pictures from an old Vans shoebox, the ones he’d taken back when he’d had the run of Gotham, following Batman and Robin (Jason), are burning in the kitchen sink. He watches Nightwing’s blurry face melt away and pretends there aren’t tears in his eyes.

The old memorabilia from Haley’s Circus is in a storage unit outside the city, along with a box that has his last Robin suit.

The lawyer has strict instructions to deliver the key and a letter to his former adopted father, Bruce Wayne, upon news of his death so anything incriminating can be properly disposed.

(They wouldn’t need any of it anyway. They could just shred all of it and wash their hands of him. The Robin that never should have been.)

A map with all his safe houses would be send to Conner Kent, along with a letter of apology.

His favorite nerd shirts would go to Ives.

The sundries in his Perch would be for Steph, and the penthouse itself would go to Babs in case things in the theatre went sideways.

Bart would get a zip drive with all their old shenanigans on video, the only copies left once his systems uploaded relevant data to Titan’s Tower and his electronic footprint would be–

gone.

The box with the Red Robin costume he wore was already sealed and addressed to Jason Todd. The note on top was short and sweet: You were right. It never should have been me after all.

He’d already arranged for his share in Wayne Enterprises to be returned to Bruce Wayne immediately, handing him his family’s company back without any strings attached.

Months ago, he’d returned The Red Bird to the Cave when he was sure no one would be around to catch him. The implication that Robin would need the car one day right there in the fact he’d brought it back because honestly, it was never really his in the first place.

Alfred would get his pick of antiques from Drake Manor, and the house itself would be given to the city to be used as a halfway home for runaway teens. He’d made sure the funding would be there to run it for a few years. The donation was made in his mother’s name.

The hilt molds to his palm, the barrel glinting bright in the night. To his credit, his hands aren’t shaky when he slides the clip home and pulls the slide back to put one in the chamber.

(The team had been working fine without him for a while now. Even if they did need someone, there was another Robin to join the roster and keep them moving forward.)

An abrupt light in the darkness, his phone screen lighting up with a missed call notification.

Missed call: Dick the OG

Ironic since the last time he’d come this far, it had been him calling out to the last person he thought could pull him back.

(Not this time. He has a new little brother, a new Robin.)

Slowly, without putting down the .45, he presses the ignore when the phone starts buzzing against with another incoming call. He thumbs the button on the side to turn the phone completely off without listening to the voicemail.

The clip makes a difference, but the absurdity of it, of the last time he did this, was when his future self was a murdering, gun-toting Batman, and the only way he could see to stop it was to stop himself.

The press of the barrel is familiar, and not in that soothing kind of way.

He blinks, just blinks, and his face is wet, which is really stupid because no one is going to miss him any damn way.

His chest gets tight when he fingers the trigger guard, giving himself the time he needs to do it right. In the final moments, he inanely thinks about the time he was huddled against Dick, right after he'd almost tried cloning his dead best friends in an insane attempt to bring them back. It's really the last time he remembers being held, being warm, feeling like he still fucking mattered. It was Dick holding him tight with restraining, breathing against the top of his head, fingers buried in his hair.

It's when he could be weak while still in the mask, babbling to Dick about how he can't do this, he can't lose them all. He was crying then, too, when he told Dick about his mom and dad leaving, leaving, always fucking leaving. About how he got used to seeing their backs more than their faces. How he was left standing on his own for too damn long to just let it keep happening. He couldn't keep losing them, couldn't keep seeing people walk away, how it fucking breaks him.

And in the here and now, his chest hitches, eyes fluttering, hand tightening down because he'd said...and Dick had...

"But I'm here, Timmy. I'm always going to be your big brother!"

It had been the last time he'd been surrounded by the famed octopus hold.

(It was the last time for a lot of things.)

He laughed, smothered in Dick shoulder, something further away from a sob. "Then I guess you'll at least never leave me, right?"

"You will never be able to get rid of me. C'mon. We're going the hell home and having a movie day. Screw the Lazarus Pit, Robin. It's time for some R and R."

Dick had half-carried him to the waiting Batplane and talked him down out of trying to use the Pit for his own gain ever again.

The first knuckle rests on the smooth curve, a six-pound trigger.

(In the end, they all leave.)

(Not again.)

Conner's terrible mohawk and leather jacket.

Bart racing Wally at a hotdog eating competition.

Cassie running full tilt to throw herself at him when he'd come to Titan's Tower to ask them for help when Ra's was going to kill everyone Batman ever loved.

Raven nuzzling Gar out of plain sight so no one would think she was totally gone for him.

Jason coming to the Tower, alive good God, and the Robin he used to be super-imposed to be his hero and enemy in the same ghostly figure.

Bruce putting a hand on his shoulder on a ride back to the Cave, chasing the dawn, the Good work, tonight tired but sincere, and his whole body lights up.

His mother looking at peace in her coffin, a lily in her folded hands.

His eyes close on the out-of-the-way safe house, the plain beige walls, stripped and soulless. He keeps the team in his mind, the times he was happy.

Now.

Instead of a resounding boom followed by his grey matter splattering his personality, intelligence, imagination, him all over–

the wall to the safe house caves in under a super punch.

Conner is white as a sheet on the other side, brick and mortar crumbling under his hands. "No! Tim. Tim. Put. The. Gun. Down."

His mouth is dry and his brain pan full of nothing but pain and disappointment.

(But you brought it all on yourself, didn't you? The Robin nobody wanted. The son nobody asked for.)

He isn't numb enough to be calm, cool, and collected. "All...all you have to do–" a hitch in his breathing "–is walk away."

The meta floats in a little closer, hovering over the flooring instead of outside. His hands stretch out, gaze focused and intense.

"Can't do that, buddy. Looks like I should have been more of an asshole after all the League of Assassins shenanigans. Sorry, my bad."

Kon knows he's in trouble when Tim Drake doesn't laugh.

"Tim," he goes to serious in about two point five seconds because the hand holding that shiny automatic tightens enough for him to hear the screws in the hilt strain, "Tim. It's me here, okay? It's just you and me, just like it's always been. We’re besties, whether you're Robin or Red Robin or Tim fucking Drake because that guy is so damn cool." He inches closer, wondering if he's fast enough, wondering if he can really get to Tim in time–

Like the former Robin can read his mind, those violet-blue eye give him a blink.

"I’ve always wondered if you really are faster than a speeding bullet."

“No!”

(...as it turns out, he isn’t.)

[bravelittleflower]

Another OC list

Trials of a Witch (Harry Potter):

1.Sienna Mitchell:

Age:16

Faceclaim: Penelope Mitchell

Fandom:Harry Potter

Love interest: Andreas Rosier(oc)/Fred Weasley

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Summary: After Sienna received a letter that her grandfather passed away, she knew her day could only get worse.She was right she received a week detention for not paying attention.And to make things worse it was with one of the Weasley twins. And yet when she told him about her situation he made it so, that she wouldn't think about her grandfather anymore. She knew that developing a crush on him was dangerous.Especially, when she wasn't quite over her ex-boyfriend.

2.Andreas Rosier:

Age:16

Faceclaim: Michael Trevino

Love interest: Sienna Mitchell

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Summary:Andreas Rosier had all his life planed by his mother.He’ll be sorted into Slytherin, become the protector of the Malfoys boy, marry Parkinson’s girl and serve the dark just like his father before him.

The problem was Andreas didn’t want to do any of this and it showed when he was sorted into Hufflepuff and he dated the beautiful hufflepuff perfect, Sienna Mitchell.But Sienna was a muggle-born, so to protect her from his mother’s wrath, Andreas broke up with her. Too bad that his feelings wouldn’t go away so easily…

3.Margaret Dursley:

Age: 11

Nickname:Meg

Faceclaim: Sophie Nelisse

Hogwarts House:Gryffindor

Summary : Lif on Privet Drive Nr. 4 was always fairly normal, just how my mother liked it.But hten the eleventh birthday of my cousin happened and we found out he was a wizard.My family didn't react to well to it, even if they knew this day will come,What none of us expected was for me that letter too.Me, Margaret Dursley, the boring, little sister of Dudley Dursley  a witch...

4.Elizabeth Joycelyn Ashwood:

Age:21

Nickname:Liz

Faceclaim: Imogen Poots

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Summary: Ever since the mission where she got her scars Liz wasn't the same person anymore.Sure ,she still cared about her mother and little sister.She still laughed with her friend and she still had her embarassing crush on Charlie Weasley since third year.But there was something missing.Maybe helping the little muggleborn Margaret Dursley in their world she'll find out what it is.

5.Agatha Celestine Ashwood

Age:11-16

Faceclaim:Taegan Croft (as played in Titans)

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Summary:Agatha was always there when the others went to Hogwarts.First was Charlie and Liz, then Percy, then Fred and George,then Ron and then it was finally her turn. Everyone expected that she'll be sorted in Gryffindor like her sister or Ravenclaw like her mother but no one expects to be  sorted into Hufflepuff.She meets Nate Cole there and thinks that maybe Hufflepuff isn't so bad

6.Nathaniel Edward Cole

Age:11-16

Faceclaim:Thomas Brodie-Sangster

Hogwarts House:Hufflepuff

Summary:Nate wanted to go to Hogwarts ever since his mother told him the stories about the four boys she befriended in her time there.He wanted to have such a strong friendship like them.But maybe even stronger because Nate saw  how sad her eyes were each time she talked about them.He gets to meet Meg and Agatha and Ginny and he swears his friendship with the girls is not going to end up like her mothers.

6.Moira Green:

Age:11-16

Faceclaim: MacKenzie Foy

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Summary: Her parents always expected the best out of Moira.The best people she’s around - purebloods, always purebloods- the best grades, the best behaviour. Moira doesn’t mind it, really. It’s not like she’ll  have a sudden desire to hang around mudbloods like her cousin.And she does like hanging around Draco and Pansy.it’s just that she never expected for her to have to fight in a war.

Survivor(Percy Jackson):

1.Daphne Briars

Age:16

Faceclaim: Candice Accola

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Summary:Never trust a survivor until you know what they did.Daphne knew this, she was one after all.After the Titans she never expected that Camp Half-Blood would welcome her back with their arms open.Not after she betrayed them.But then Percy disappears and Jason appears in his place and despite being warned many times, he still wants to figure her out.

2.Nayla Briars

Age:15

Faceclaim:Astrid Berges Frisby

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Summary: After their mother death Nayla knew that she'll have to be responsabile of her sister.She didn't want that but she also didn't want to be hated by her sister.The answer was quite easy really,just like Zoe said.Become a hunter of Artemis and let Lady Artemis wipe any memory that Nayla Briars existed.Nayla agreed.The problem was that after the Titan war Daphne somehow managed to get her memories back.She doesn't know if she's redy to face the consequences.

3.Brandon Henderson

Age 34

Faceclaim: Nick Blood

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Summary:Brandon always knew that there was something special about his goddaughter.Something that only her mother knew what.After the death of Angela, Brandon had absolutely no problem in taking the girl in as his own.It was only years after when he found out about the Gods existence that Brandon  found out what was special about his girl.But it didn't matter.Daphne Briars was always his little girl no matter what happens.

4.Killian Roseheim

Age:17

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Faceclaim:Jeremy Allen White

Summary:Killian wasn’t like the rest of his siblings. He knew that. Sure he had a short temper but most of the time he could hold it in. He loved getting in fights and he had no problems working with any kind of weapon. Just like any Ares child. But he also had an eye for beautiful things. He liked painting. Writing music. Playing guitar. Looking at it, it was really no wonder that many people thought he was a child of Apollo but he just liked beautiful things. It was a thing he got it from his mother. So, when he sees Piper in the crowd is no wonder that he likes her. Then he gets to know her and things get complicated

Whatever it takes(MCU):

1.Noemie Valerie 'Nova' Thompson

Age:21

Faceclaim: Lulu Antariksa

Hogwarts House:Gryffindor

Summary:Nova Thompson was not new to loss. She lost her father when she was little. She lost one of her best friends in middle school and now, after the snap she lost everything. Her twin brother, her friend who helped her trough the previous losses and her partner. She won’t lose anyone else.

And if she needs to listen to a few superheroes, who lost her respect long ago, then so be it. She’ll do whatever it takes.

From Now On(MCU):

1.Sophie Stark

Age:24

Faceclaim:Katie McGarth

Hogwarts House:Slytherin

Summary: Sophie swore ever since Obadiah's betrayal that she'll never be a damsel in distress.So, why in the world aftert the Ultron incident was she stuck on a unknown planet dressed similarly to Princess Leia? She doesn't even like Star-Wars! Of course she learns to survive this planet,even as a slave because she can't find another word for what she is right now.But then she meets with Loki and then Thor and he they might just be her ticket out of here!

Dust and Gold (DC Universe):

1.Isadora Grayson

Age: 17

Faceclaim: Jenna-Louise Coleman

Hogwarts House:Hufflepuff

Summary: People deal with grief in different ways.Some change were they live,to have a new start.Some change their appearance.Some just get over when they discover a hobby.But not Isadora Grayson.She deals with it by becoming a vigilante.Her name Jaybird after her best friend who died.But then Timothy Drake appears as Jason replacement and things get complicated because he's actually nice and he actually wants to help her cope with Jason's death.And why is it that when not even Dick could bring her to talk about him she has no reservation in front Tim.

2.Callum Montgomery

Age:18

Faceclaim:Andrew Garfield

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Summary: Callum Montgomery knew that he'll never be the CEO of his father company.Never.Sure he has no idea what he wants to do with his life but he'll figure it out.He'll figure it out with his best friends Isadora Grayson and Nadia Evolett.The thing Nadia disappears suddenly and Callum swears he's going to find her.No matter what!

3.Nadia Evolett

Age:18

Faceclaim:Molly Quinn

Hogwarts House:Slytherin

Summary:In another universe Nadia would probably hate the amount of people she killed.In another she'll probably beg for forgivness to god or something.In another universe Nadia would still have her memories.In another universe she wouldn't be just a pawn to Ra's al Ghul and his daughter.In another universe maybe there would someone searching for her.

Not Another Cinderella Story(Shameless):

Abigail Abernathy

Age: 14-

Faceclaim: AnnaSophia Robb

Summary: With a mother in jail and a junkie of a father Abigail Abernathy life wasn't easy. It was even less easy when her father decided to marry Samantha Slott.At first Sammi was pretty nice to her but then her father decided to pull a disappearing act and leave Abby with her. Sammi didn't take it well. Abby didn't like to talk about her life with Sammi (it could easily fall in the abusive category) and she would rather talk about the chaotic life that the Gallagher's have, which Sammi made her way in when she found out about  her father.But what exactly does she like so much about the Gallagher’s that she doesn’t really want to leave them?

Porcelain, Ivory, Steel(Legacies)

1.Faith Kline

Age: 17

Fceclaim: Hennig Shelley

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Summary: Faith was just like any other werewolf at the Salvatore School. Obedient to the alpha, a good student, an orphan. When Landon and Raphael come to the school thnigs start to spiral down. Not only does she have to find out who killed her parents but she also has to find out why she feels such a strong pull to Raphael.

Up Down(Stranger Things)

1.Claudia Carthmore

Age:16

Faceclaim:Emaraude Toubia

Hogwarts House:Gryffindor

Summary:Claudia Carthmore and Nancy Wheeler used to be best friends. They used to be best friends until Nancy decided to go out with Steve Harrington despite the fact that she knew about her feelings for him. But Claudia has more pressing matters when Nancy's little brother and his friends come to her with problems that could as well discover a goverment conspiracy.

All or Nothing (My Hero Academia):

1.Akiko Todoroki

Age:15

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Faceclaim: Katherine McNamara

Summary:Akiko Todoroki knew that she wouldn’tbe able to keep this a secret from her father.She just got accepted in U.A despite the fact that he almost ordered her not to do it.She was always prepared for her father’s rage, she wasn’t prepared for her father to make a deal with her.

The moment she fails one test in theoretical or practical exam she’s out, until then she can play hero.

Fine by her, she always wanted to prove him she can to do this.

The Birds Song(Fairy Tail):

1.Suzume Yahto

Age:7-21

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Faceclaim: Sofia Carson as Evie in Descendants

Summary: For someone who doesn't remeber anything about her past Fairy Tail is the perfect place for her.And it's not like Natsu would let her go anywhere.Not after he claimed her as his little sister and swore to protect her from anything

2.Bran Yahto

Age: 25

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Faceclaim: Nathaniel Buzlic as Kol Mikaelson

Summary: Bran had only one goal in his life, protect his sister from the people that overtook their guild,Red Vixen.And if she has to lose her memories for it then so be it.

3.Elentiya Amare

Age:25

Hogwarts House:Slytherin

Faceclaim:Riley Voelkel

Summary:Ellie didn't care much for Suzume Yahto.Not anymore.Her first priority is and always will be Bran.But Bran cares for her and keeping her safe means that he also would do anything  for her.Even if it's stupid. So she has to keep Suzume safe in order to keep Bran safe.

Dreams never end(One Piece):

1.Kekkai Renge

Age:7-

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff

Faceclaim: Phoebe Tonkin as Hayley Marshall

Summary: Was I supposed to be in this world? Nope. Will I try my best that nothing is going to change because of my presence here?Also no. Am I going to make sure that I'm going to live this llife without regrets? Hell yeah!

2.Kekkai Seoul:

Age:14-21

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Faceclaim: Joseph Morgan as Klaus Mikaelson

Summary: Seoul  knew he scewred it up. He swrewed it up spectacularly not only in regards of his friend Sonya but he also failed to keep his promise to protect his sister. His sister is in danger and it's his fault as long as he is still alive he'll do anything to keep her safe. No matter who he has to kill. Even if it gets himself killed.

3.Botan Yugyao:

Age: 9-

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Faceclaim: Emilia Clarke as Daenery Targaryen

Summary: Botan's parents were marines.Ever since she knew that they helped people and fought bad guys she wanted to be like them. But then her parents were killed in action and she was send to live with her godmother Sister Teresa. She meets people there who become her family – yes even Renge altough she could do with more discpline. Botan has one goal in life: catch every criminal and make them pay for what they did to her parents. It didn't matter that some of those criminals were people that Renge considered family.

5.Kazumi:

Age: 7-

Faceclaim: Shiori Kutsuna as played in Deadpool

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Summary: Kazumi knew that she wasn't anything special. She wasn't like Botan or Renge or even Arashi. She didn't have the heart to become a marine like them nor did she have the heart to set out on the ocean to become a pirate like Ace and Luffy instead all she can do is to stay behind the bar, help Makino and support her friends as much as she can.

6.Sonya:

Age:21

Faceclaim: Claire Holt

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Summary: Sonya would always believe in her friend. No matter what people say about him. No matter if he is charged with treason. Even if she sees his face on a wanted poster. She knows how much he loves his little sister. How protective he is of the people he loves. She lived trough it more times than she can count.No matter what happens, she'll always believe in him and no, her feelings for him have nothing to do with it. Okay, maybe a little tiny bit.

7.Hiraya Nanako:

Age: 22

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Faceclaim: Emma Dumont as Lorna Dane

Summary: Hiraya Nanako was known for her what she has done for the marines and was considered a hero. It wasn't true, she wasn't the true hero but who would admit that a pirate saved their lives when in need? Hiraya swore she was never going on field but then she meets these kids and she's promoted as captain and oh well, since when has she ever listened to herself anyway?

8.Arashi:

Age:7-

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Faceclaim: finn wolfhard

Summary:  Arashi knew that he was much more softer than his other classmates. Siblings really. They were always siblings no matter how much Botan and Renge were at each other throats.Maybe people were right about him, maybe he wasn't cut to be a marine.Maybe he should have stayed with Kazumi in the village but it's not like she can quit now. Besides, someone has to make sure that Renge and Botan don't get themselves killed when they are fighting.

Figuring it out(Teen Wolf):

Anastasia 'Tia' McAllister

Age: 17

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Faceclaim: Jenny Boyd

Summary:If you asked her, Scott got off easily and he was a drama-queen.After all there was every werewolf who could help him with his control and power and etc. But no one could help her because no one even heard of something like her.

When she got bitten in search of a death body (thanks to Stiles) she realized that each time she touches someone she can feel the persons pain. The pain they felt their whole life and it was driving Anastasia crazy because she couldn’t not feel. But she’s gonna figure it out somehow.She always figures thing out. She’ll figure it out or her name wasn’t Anastasia McAllister

Indomitable Spirit(Riverdale):

Theodora'Teddy' Moore

Age:17

Faceclaim: Crystal Reed

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Summary: When Teddy Moore was assaulted by her ex-boyfriend Nick St.Claire and she tried to tell someone no one listened to her. Not even her best friend, Veronica Lodge.Out of shame her father moved in the town where he met her mother, Riverdale. For two years everything is fine and Teddy can finally about New York and Veronica and what Nick did to her. At least until she sees Veronica freaking Lodge in the halls of Rivedale High being best friends with Betty Cooper. As if it's not enough that she has to deal with Jason Blossom's death, now she has to make sure that no one finds out about what happened in New York.

@dreamerwithapen1 @randomestfandoms @treavellergirl @foxesandmagic @missjanuarylily @captdnvrs @anotherunreadblog

[satire-please]

Fight...NO WAIT DON’T!

Summary: When fights get personal between Ra's and Tim? They get...personal in more ways than one. (Realistic established relationship Ra’sTim)

Can also find my story here on Ao3.

Love confessions are the worst when you’re trying to kill each other.

Or maim.

Whatever, take your pick.

There’s three types of fights Tim gets into with Ra’s.

The first is the kind they both enjoy. It’s the classical cat chases mouse, Holmes and Moriarty, scenario. With clues in the dark, puzzles to solve, and explosions that are gorgeous. The stakes aren’t high except for the convenient ‘allies’ Ra’s puts in Tim’s path to mow down in righteous fury. He knows he’s the sharpest tool in Ra’s’ shed, better than any shadow that swears loyalty to the demon head when the League of Assassins has undue...competition. Tim would be more pissed at being used but the millions of ill-gotten dollars he sets on fire tends to make up for it. Another pet project bites the dust. Plus, he swears Ra’s only has to sigh about how plebeian it is for those new upstarts to employ means like children and drugs...and it doesn’t take much after that for Tim to hop a jet and make those bastards burn. International prisons have never been so full.

Sometimes it’s better than roses and chocolate. But don’t tell Ra’s that.

Behind door number 2 is the general good-versus-evil venue. Where massive groups of underground evil organizations band together for another ‘Hey, let’s rule the world or end it’ party, and, you know, the Justice League has to crash that. When that happens, Tim practically always waves at Ra’s when both groups line-up to strike a pose. The mayhem makes for the best photo op.

They have enough time to throw out a, “When the world is new, my love, you will behold the grandeur of paradise.”

“Aw, Ra’s, I thought paradise was whenever you were with me?”  

Elsewhere a teenage voice demands, “Grayson, fetch me one of those disposable bags, I require one immediately.”

“Too late,” A retching sound commences, “I used the last one.”

Then they all pick a partner and dance. Once again, Tim’s date is someone three times his size or a glob monster. In the corner of his eye, he watches B and Ra’s viciously strike and dodge. Is able to catch the moment Ra’s mouths his name. The only expressions Batman wears in the cowl is stone wall and displeased stone wall with something pointy. Drifting between the shouts and yells of the crowds Tim can hear Ra’s laugh, and if he wasn’t making sure he doesn’t turn into pancake Red Robin, he’d notice B landing his hits harder. Stronger. More biting. More permanent.

But in this fight Ra’s and Tim don’t engage. In fact, since they’ve become lovers they don’t even spar because it’s not a good idea to play show-and-tell with their best moves...or their new ones.  

After all, they might need them for the third kind of fight, the fight where it’s personal.

Now, everyone has their happy triggers. For Tim, it’s don’t mess around with his city and his family.

For Ra’s, it’s the pits.

So tonight, in the present, when the event planner announces the keynote speaker, when the crowd goes wild, when the spotlight descends on one figure in muted green and gold, Tim knows exactly what kind of fight it’s going to be.

And it’s going to hurt.  

He winces when he feels more than sees Bruce stiffen at his side. It was just supposed to be “Support the Green” gala damn it.

The statue doesn’t get better with every word that Ra’s projects to the crowd, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I do not believe I could have hoped for a better reception in Gotham than this. You honor me. Tonight, I’m pleased to announce a project that has been in the making for years. An innovative way to clear the air, not only for you to breathe more than the smog that accosts your lungs, but clear a pathway to the stars themselves.” A round of thunderous applause and Tim hands his and B’s glass of untouched wine to the waiter. He carefully palms the side of one and hopes the caterer doesn’t notice the small crack on Mr. Wayne’s.

Ra’s takes his time outlining the project, spinning a web for the audience that traps them in their enthusiasm. The Air Oasis is basically an air filter on steroids. Each unit is almost the size of a car, about fifty of them could be placed strategically around the city for a maximum effect. The machines would suck in every pollutant through the use of magnetics and a chemical of his own design. Tim mimics B, his whole body going going numb at that notion since gee, what chemical or mysterious green substance could the man be speaking about? Then the Air Oasis machines would pump the recycled oxygen back into the city.

“Imagine strolling among the streets and in the place of refuse’s smell and filth, you are overcome with crisp, pure oxygen filling your senses instead?” The man gives a grand gesture.

Behind him when the projector screen is flooded with the Air Oasis design, Tim speaks into his lapel, “Babs, are you seeing this? Can you hack the feed and download the filter’s blueprint? There’s no way the fruitcake isn’t planning something.”

“On it, I’ll send you the analysis immediately once I pick it apart and check every screw.”

Tim whispers earnestly, “You are the most perfect badass I know, O.”

“You’re a liar, but flatter me more. I deserve it.”

“You’re beautiful and Dick never deserved you.”

She snorts in his ear lightly. “Of course he didn’t, that’s why we broke up.”

“And every night his pillow is wet with bitter tears,” he hisses back.

Oracle softly giggles and says, “He’ll have to cry harder than that to get me back. Send you that data soon, just stay on your toes and avoid dark corners with your wicked paramour. I’ll be watching and judging you. O out.”

Tim doesn’t have the heart to tell her Ra’s doesn’t mind having an audience. In fact, as the applause gets louder more people rush to the men at the side, giving their ‘donations’ to the project. Ra’s thrives from it.

The moment the demon’s speech is done, the deafening support on the ‘green’ idea established (which is going to be bitch to sabotage because Ra’s isn’t doing this from the shadows ironically...he’s doing this in the open, getting the public’s rapport so Tim can just foresee the PR nightmare) the two vigilantes wait. They don’t rush the man, but let him saunter from person to person to give his poisoned honey out. Their eyes glued on him, Brucie turning into Bruce turning into the Bat as he gets closer and closer until finally the criminal stands before him.  

He is not alone. Next to Ra’s is the most intimidating woman Tim has ever met besides his mother (don’t tell her he said that). Talia.

Tim gives the first volley, “Why do I think you’re not here just to see me in a suit?”

“You do look fetching, no ravishing, in that attire, my love,” Ra’s purrs, his eyes roving over Timothy’s delightful form, “but you are correct. I am not.”

Tim won’t admit it, but Ra’s doesn’t look half bad either. The black suit is fitted to his broad shoulders, delicate highlights of his trademark colors running through the fabric. Beside him Talia floats in brilliant green to match. Long gloves cover the scars she’s earned on her arms, while finery and gems makes her skin glisten.

“What are you doing here?” Brucie’s voice breaks into a growl, unable to keep his lighthearted persona now that the Demon is in his presence.

“Since you so enjoy traipsing through my territory, destroying my property, destroying my pits, four of my—” The assassin’s demeanor cracks a little, his wrath bleeding through for a second until that mouth curls into smirk, “I thought it best to return the favor and find time to appreciate what’s yours.”

“What are you planning.” It’s a demand, not a question.

“If you are unable to uncover the truth on your own, then you are not the detective I once called you.”

The Bat lurches forward, but Tim steps between them, placing a hand on B’s chest to push him back an inch. B looms like the biblical Goliath, dwarfing him (completely unfair), but Tim tilts his head and gives a brilliant smile, “But he does have someone you call ‘Detective’ now. I’m sure with the both of us, past and future sleuths, your plan doesn’t stand a chance.”

“We shall see, beloved.” He beckons to Talia. “But, for now, we shall find ways to enjoy the company of others. All too soon it will be end of this godforsaken city. Daughter, perhaps you could dance with your detective while I speak to mine?”

“Yes, Father. Habibi?” Talia reaches and trails her fingers down Bruce’s sleeve. “Join me for a song or two. We have much to discuss.”

Bruce twists his head to his charge. “Tim.”

“Go, I’ll be fine.”

Bruce continues to glance backwards as Talia leads him to the dance floor. His face thunderous as Ra’s gets closer and closer to his son until they’re barely an inch apart.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what, my love?” Greedily, Ra’s takes Tim’s wrist and rubs a thumb over his pulse. Steady, unafraid...incredible.

“You know he hates when you play the perverted creep.”

“Yet I have not done anything to warrant such a reputation.” Ra’s says mockingly, interlocking their fingers together. “Perhaps that should change. Please, this way. I’ve been told the gardens are most lovely.”

“You are the worst.” But Tim does nothing when Ra’s places his other hand on his lower back. Does nothing against that press as they move further from the crowd to the more...secluded setting. Outside of the pavilion, the rooftop garden is simple but elegant. You have to be rich (or Poison Ivy) to grow anything in this city. It is also speckled with a few benches and alcoves like the one Ra’s pulls him into.

There the Demon head gives in to hunger and finally wraps his lover in his arms. It’s been far too long since he’s held his Timothy. In the night, the music plays faintly in the background and it’s sentimental surely, but there is a definite moment or two where they sway back and forth.

Ra’s takes a deep breath and sighs, “How I long to dance with you in public.”

“And ruin my carefully maintained persona?” Tim raises an eyebrow. “How about no?”

Yet they still dance for the whole song, Ra’s turning them slightly before they add anything.

“I thought we had an agreement. I keep an open mind about ‘certain’ things while you keep your stupid green cape out of Gotham. So why are you here?”

“Because I have allowed too many insults to go unchecked. Thanks to the Bat,” Ra’s spat, “too much of my empire has been reduced to ash without any sign of my displeasure. The time for retribution is now.”

“I destroy your stuff all the time.” Tim points out.

“Yet you tend to leave the secret of my immorality alone, dearest. It was not you that inspired my wrath last month. It was not you who has limited my resources to three pits.”

No. But Tim did give the locations to Bruce when he asked. He also knows very well exactly what kind of firepower that’s needed to destroy a pit for good. He swallows and says nothing, looking away from the man.

“What do the machines actually do, Ra’s?” If Tim can just get a clue, a detail, anything to guess what’s to come, then he’ll have a better chance.

A dark laugh. Well that can’t be good. “I assure you, the filtration units perform their designed function, nothing more. They will filter this wretched air your disgusting city has polluted and leave only oxygen in its place. They will cleanse this city from its filth. Perhaps you will thank me when the progress is finished, my dear.”

“Don’t count on it.” He makes a note to check the machine’s blueprints himself when O is done with them. He’s going to stop him. No matter what, Tim is going to stop him. “Whatever you are planning, it’ll never work.”

“On the contrary, already the fools inside have agreed to install the units on the morrow. In hours—” Ra’s stops and breaks into a tense quirk of a smile, “And already you have me monologuing, for shame my lips are too loose around you.”

“It’s not my fault you love to talk.” Damn. A line or two more could have been vital. But Tim notes his own bad habits, how it doesn’t faze him at all as Ra’s manhandles him to have his back against a brick wall. How the assassin’s arms cage him there and Tim doesn’t feel threatened at all...yeah, he should get that checked out.

“My mouth loves to do many things when it’s around you,” Ra’s mutters, his thumb coming up to rub at the bottom lip that calls to him. “Tell me, beloved, will you hate me when I win?”

Tim doesn’t even miss a beat, “I don’t know, will you hate me when you lose?” He crosses his arms in challenge. His forearms brush against the other with how little space there is between them.

Ra’s stares into those eyes, so pretty and oh so sure and chuckles bitterly. “Let us see what the fates decide.”

“No conscious effort on our parts?” Tim states wryly, but let his cheek rest in that palm. “No chance of you backing down if I ask nicely?”

“I calculate the same probability if I begged you to stay uninvolved.”

So zero, “Fuck.”

“Indeed...would you do if I told you there a jet ready to take you away? Would you leave before destruction leaves none in its path? Or stay to be numbered with the dead?”

“Who says there’s going to be any dead? Who says that your scheme won’t be destroyed, like it always is, instead? What, you think I’m going to go easy on you just because I like you? Don’t kid yourself, when I’m done with you your ninjas will have to scrape you off the dirty sidewalk.”

There’s a sharp intake, a gasp, and for a second Tim thinks his words have some effect. And they have, but it’s not the threat that has Ra’s fingers digging into his jaw, dragging Tim up against him. Tim shoots out his arms to brace himself, yet their chests smush together as Ra’s other arm coils tightly around him.

“Why I believe that’s the first time you’ve admitted any sort of fondness for me...how wildly unfortunate to reveal your affections now.” The green of those eyes darken and Tim’s flinch gives his surprise away. Is it really the first time?

“Is it? Well, I’ve always been more of a man of action.” He starts to pry the hand off his face, but Ra’s isn’t having it. The digits just slide through Tim’s hair to the base of his skull and pulls. Tim winces as the man directs his head until their lips lightly touch. He even needs to stand on his toes because Ra’s is a special kind of tall bastard.

Ra’s mouth twists into a smirk against beloved’s, the sensation divine. “This is true. Your actions, your body...has always been so loud.”

And he begins to take.

Their kisses always start soft.

Like a trap, each movement is gentle bait. Easing into the rhythm of hunger, as their lips slide against each other. Ra’s wants his lover frantic, desperate but it takes patience. Patience to wait, to seduce, to build the desire until they can’t stand any option other than being absolutely consumed.

It is the patience 800 years has rewarded him with.

Though with Timothy it is a cycle that feeds into each other, as the Detective’s demeanor finally melts, his own cravings become more ravenous.

Tim tilts his face up to gasp, yet Ra’s chases that mouth, chases that opening to use his tongue and taste. Tim’s legs buckle a little and Ra’s grips one hip tight to compensate. Soon he will need to wrap those coltish legs around his waist. It is where they belong.

A sharp pain, Ra’s rears back an inch to groan. He tongues the small cut on his lower lip and purrs. “Beloved, there are other ways to paint your lips red.”

Tim’s eyes are half-lidded, bored. One of Ra’s fingers, his pinky, rests on a pulse that tells Ra’s the truth. That the detective’s heart has started to race. “But you like it when I do it this way the most.”

Ra’s burns. He does not know whose breath it is that rings so harshly in his ears. Who crashes their lips together harder first. Yet the iron from his blood is an excellent spice to this meal. He could get addicted in how one of Timothy’s arms comes over his shoulder to claw at his pressed suit. Could get lost in the quiet mewl that invokes Ra’s’ darkest determination to make into a scream—

Could get lost...Oh his clever, clever beloved.

“Are you are a distraction, my precious?” Ra’s snarls angrily, he jerks Timothy’s face to the side for a deeper, more exposed angle, as if he could devour this alluring creature whole. “A horrible.” suck. “wonderful.” kiss. “distraction?”

Meanwhile Tim is just trying to hold on, thanks.

“B-Bitch, I might be. But what are you going to do, oh great Demon Head? Are you going to let yourself be distracted, is it going to be worth it?” Tim’s breath comes fast with the challenge. So he never does anything for one reason. So what? The longer he can give Babs time to decode or Bruce to wring out intel with Talia...the better. The longer he can keep Ra’s focus on him and not his ‘plan,’ the better. The longer he can feel this...with him, the better. His thumb comes up to pop open the top button of his shirt, teasing his lover with a flash of collarbone through the gap. Ra’s cannot resist. The proof that Timothy is his has faded there and it’s unacceptable.

“Do not tempt me,” he cautions as he buries his face into that throat. His teeth already coming out to play.

“I t-think ah, I can handle it, thanks.”

Tim gives a little hop and naturally Ra’s drops his hands to help him. He clutches Tim under his thighs, which should be bare not loathsomely covered, to hoist him up, half reclining against the wall, half wrapped up around the assassin. It puts Tim’s head above his and frees up his hands to roam while Ra’s’ are occupied.

Ah, well he supposes the detective enjoys the chance of being tall. “I wonder what exactly I have let into my bed?”

“You mean the bed you practically blackmailed me into?”

“Only at first, my love. After all, I did not use any means to lure you there the second time, nor every time after that.”

Tim huffs stiffly, decides to do some marking of his own. He nudges Ra’s face out of the way and worries at the tendons of his neck, sucking hard, intending to bruise with the slight.

Timothy is so precious when he’s spiteful.

“It is as if we are Aesop’s frog and scorpion.”

“You and your stupid stories, ” Tim grits out, but it turns into a moan when Ra’s squeezes his hands on his ass.

“Now, now, you enjoy my stories. One day the scorpion begged the frog to cross river. The frog attempted to refuse out of fear, of that stinger gleaming wet in the sun. Yet the scorpion only rationalized that if he did sting the frog during the swim then both would die. Convinced, the frog began to cross the river, scorpion upon its back—”

“Let me guess, this fable doesn’t have a happy ending?” He’s helpless to the hands on his ass, the mouth moving against his collarbone, all of it makes his hips jerk against Ra's.

“—Yet once halfway across, the scorpion stung the frog mercilessly. As the two drown, the stunned, poisoned frog cries ‘Why?’ to the scorpion.”

“Called it.” Tim pulls back to blow on the hickey in the making, rolls with Ra’s’ shiver and attempts to not react when Ra’s returns the favor. He fails. Especially when Ra’s starts to open up the rest of his shirt with his teeth, revealing more sensitive pale skin that Ra’s loves, needs to play with. Tim squirms when the warm mouth finds his nipple and flicks it with tongue. “A-And what did the—ah—scorpion’s say, Ra’s?”

“He replied, ‘Because I cannot resist my nature,’ and attacked the frog again and again until both were well under the waves. He was a scorpion and that is what scorpions do...they sting. So tell me, beloved...which of us is the frog? And which the scorpion?”

And Tim manages to muffle the plea in the demon’s throat. The one crawling, scraping to escape with mangled, ‘Please. P-please don’t do this. Stop. Don’t hurt my city. Don’t hurt my people.’ But the fable has a point, and it’s not fair of him to ask. Not when Ra’s won’t deliver and neither have convictions that bend or bow.

So while his mind turns with plans and next moves, with contingencies to try countering his insane significant other's maniacal plot-in-progress, Tim just drags Ra’s back to his lips and makes his kisses hurt, makes them sting and sting and sting . Because if this is the last time he can have any part of the man he took as his lover, then it’s best to make their mouths swollen and ruined.

Tim will remember him better that way.

“Oh Ra’s...you know the answer to that. We’re both of them.”

Some heroes are not needed.

Like Dick Grayson riding in out of nowhere to drag him out of Ra's arms. How he takes no time to get one hand on the back of Tim’s suit and pull.  Dick half-drags, half-carries him down the stairwell, and Tim is this close to punching him in the face. Those perfect teeth are begging to be ruined. The man’s hand around his wrist is like iron but it doesn’t stop Tim from mentally going over every technique he knows of how to break bones. Half of the buttons on his shirt are undone, the open fabric flapping as they race down to the car. Tim doesn’t bother fixing it, he’ll change out of his civilian day-wear soon enough. Luckily for him, he’d carried and stored the suit nearby, always. Better to thwart your evil plots with, my dear.

“This way!”

“I had it, Dick. No ‘rescue’ necessary.”

“No rescue necessary?” Dick stops for a moment to wildly gesture at him. Pointing at the red marks littering Tim’s skin, he even lets go of the arm to fuss over clothes until Tim smacks his fingers. “Tim, you look like you were mauled by a lion.”

“It was a sexy lion. Did B send you? I told him I was going to be fine.” He glances backwards, wondering if Ra’s is with the rest of the crowd pretending to be impressed with the last event, or if he’s at the top of the emergency stairwell, eyes hungry and dark.

“Wait, are you mad that I stopped you on the roof?”

“No.” Yes. It’s complicated. Even though the Bats have a long history, almost a long freaking tradition of trysts on top of buildings. Even though Tim is a perfectly legal, consenting adult with a tie, a tie that Tim had plans for and didn’t get to use, dammit. Maybe he could have used it to gag the man after he promised, ‘If tonight is our last, I shall not rest until pleasure overwhelms you. Until all you can do is sob and keen my name.’ Though, it does puts Tim in the very awkward position of trying to have sex with someone that’s doing his best to kill his family...It’s complicated. It’s always been.

He’s a pot surrounded by kettles. Just taste the ash and call it good. Really what Tim has done, is still doing, is mild on the bat spectrum.

He’s never killed anyone.

He’s never slept around, making notches on his belt with vigilante and enemy alike.

It’s just the one. This one relationship that’s ironically healthier compared to what their little family’s been through. It’s consistent. Adoring, smothering, and respectful. The man is a liar, but he’s never lied to Tim about the way he feels.

It’s more than he can say for rest of the Bats.

But it’s probably better this way. Better that the person with the dick joke in his name stopped them, cockblocked the two before the rest of the guests wandered outside for the fireworks display.

‘Why should that matter, Mr...Grayson? The shadows hide us well and the fireworks would cover up your brother’s delicious cries.’

Dick lunged at Ra’s for those words.

It’s fine.

“Timmy…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tim grits his teeth. “Let’s just focus on the here and now.”

Dick grabs a shoulder before they hit the street. “You know I care, right? I just don’t want you to get hurt. I–”

“I know.” He knows the others think him compromised. He knows they care, they just don’t trust that he can get things done anyway. “Now get out there and take care of some ninja scum for us. I’ll see you back in the cave.”

Dick squeezes tightly, his mouth a thin line but nods. “See you there, little brother.” He hands Tim what he needs and turns to the police car parked on the street.

The vigilante sighs. A car door shuts in the background, but his head tilts up to the sky blooming in color. It’s a shame. It’s sort of romantic. The kind you find in movies, books, and songs. It might have been nice...to watch them together with his lover. His bangs swing to shake the sentiment out of his head and then he gets to work.

“Talk to me, O,” as the Ducati vibrates between his thighs.

Leaving the presentation with his body throbbing and unsatisfied was really not how he’d hoped to end the night, but still, he’s got a nefarious plot to stop.

“It’s mechanical engineering only,” is the reply through his comm while he hangs a sharp right and the spot on his collar bone aches for more touch. “The machine is going to work pretty well considering we don’t know exactly what’s going to be powering it.”

Well, fuck.

“So how he plans to use to the Pit on Gotham and to what ends,” is his grim summation.

“Right on the money. To his credit, it is a filtration system, but without more details on his ‘mystery element,’ we have no idea what chemical could be pumped out. It could be a form of the Lazarus Pit, but I really doubt Ra’s al Ghul is trying to make half of Gotham pretty much immortal.”

Numbly, Red is already planning on where he needed to break-in to get the missing component, how he’d need to get into the warehouse on Dixon Dock to check out Ra’s little chemical lab.

“Can’t you send the digital copy to my wrist computer? I’ve got some leads to check out, but I can give them a look-see while N is kicking in some faces.”

She hums over comm, “You got it, Baby Bird. Try not to let your boyfriend kill off our city.”

Tim guns the bike, revving it to go faster, harder. “What? You afraid I’ll steal the title of worst break-up in the family? Bruce has to lose his place eventually Babs, Red out.”

Ra’s chemical lab by the water is unlocked. Which by all means should be a sign with showgirls and feathers that it’s a big trap...only there’s nothing there. Sure there’s examples of pit water and an assortment of goodies that would make any of Gotham’s rouge gallery squeal with fiendish delight, but nothing Tim can use. Or anyone to beat up. Tim is a bit miffed about that. Okay, cross that out, he’s pissed as hell because there’s not even a single guard, not even a scrap of black fluttering in the corners for a ninja to say ‘hi.’

How rude.

Meeting his eye, there’s only neat rows of tables, beakers, and the same designs that Ra’s presented to the Gala. Oh and a note. Folded neatly in an open envelope with Tim’s full name on it in gorgeous calligraphy.

Because Ra’s is a magnificent bastard.  

Tim snatches it up and his fingers crinkle the page as he unfolds it in hurried movements. The green ink, because everything’s in green (honestly he should introduce Ra’s to Ivy, they have so much in common), is glossy to the touch and there’s a hint of spice that Tim’s recognizes as Ra’s scent immediately. Chai and cloves. Madder than ever, he tells himself not to rip the possible evidence just because he’s memorized the way Ra’s smells.  

My Dear Beloved,

Why would you need break into a kingdom that is already yours? When have I denied you access to my labs and systems? You possess all the keys yet that shall not save your city.

There is a boat at the dock with my insignia.

Forget your mission, it is futile. Leave this place before it is too late. I will be...displeased if the next time I hold you, it is your corpse I must cradle.

Respecting your stance on using the pit is infuriating. See reason and abandon your mentor, my Love.

Leave.

What do you know? He does end up ripping the paper in fascinating, tiny pieces. It’s like snow. It’s barely satisfying.

They’re on the clock. He races to his bike, blares through the night to check every other hidey-holes Tim knows Ra’s has. One hour becomes two, three, and a dejected Tim returns to the cave to see Bruce pacing the floor. The filter’s plans are blown up on every screen they have.

They don’t crack the mystery that night.

And it takes too long for them to figure it out.

The first ones to get sick are animals.

Despite the lack of support from WE, filters pop up everywhere like some crazy rich fad. Like magic or IKEA, the machines are put together in under an hour and there’s fifty of them. B dots them on the map, but there’s no pattern, it really is randomly spread out as some are placed in the slums as acts of charity, others are set up on the top of wealthy estates like solar panels. Of course, the first Bat response is to monitor the heck out of them. Within minutes, Tim creates a detector that inspects the filters output every twenty minutes like clockwork and Tim pumps them out so N, Robin, and B can slap every filter with one.

“I just don’t understand.” Weary but his nerves keep him upright to stare at the screen, Tim forces sleep deprivation to work for him like the bitch it is. His hand absentmindedly pats the table for the coffee cup just in case. Is it caffeine or frustration that’s making him twitchy? “I’m getting nothing. Nothing but oxygen. What is the pit water even being used for?”

B leans over his shoulder and taps on the central mechanism of the design. “Perhaps to power the whole thing?”

“Maybe, but it’s not doing anything. What if it’s all just a distraction? What if our attention is being completely wasted while somewhere else Ra’s is—”

There’s a loud buzz overhead and Bruce flips the call to broadcast the call into the cave, “B here, report.”

“Father. There is a terrifying decrease in the animal population in Block 4.” Damian’s voice has a small tremor and for the young boy...that’s practically a scream of distress. “I have already contacted vets and animal hospitals in every vector of Gotham and yet I keep finding…this.”

B connects to Damian’s video feed, it appears that Robin’s in an alley of some kind. It’s a long one, and from Damian’s feet all the way to the back are cats and dogs, no strays all curled up on their side as if in sleep.

But their eyes are open and plastic-looking. Their mouths wide, tongues and contents of their stomach spewed out on the gravel. It’s a nightmare perfectly designed for the kid.

“Robin, return to headquarters immediately. You don’t have to—”

“All pet owners I have questioned also report that the health of their animals have declined. It does not matter where in the city, yet creatures that are kept deep inside of their residences appear to be affected the least.” From the camera, they watch green gloves carefully, gently pick up one of the carcasses. “It must be from those vile contraptions. They must be destroyed.”

“D...Robin,” Tim tries, “There’s nothing new being pumped in the air. I’ve tried, analyzed everything we have on file, and no chemical components have been released into the atmosphere.”

“Tch. No matter. I must check to see if any of these animals can be hospitalized. Red will you relay to the public to keep their pets indoor?”

Tim hacks away at phone lines, creating an automatic text response that will appear on every electronic device in Gotham. “Of course, Robin.”

“...Thank you. Father, keep me updated, I shall return shortly.”

And he does.

In Red Hood’s arms far too pale, far too clammy and rasping.

“Special delivery.” Jason hauls the figure onto a medibed. “Wish it was a better one.”

All the air is punched out Tim’s lungs at the sight of the limp Robin. He can’t breathe and his body jerks towards B and Dick. The two appear to be in the same boat.

“What, Dami—” Dick starts.

“Get him hooked up immediately,” B growled, “I want to know his vitals now!”

Everyone rushes to obey.

Tim snatches the IVs, while Dick and Bruce hover over the bed like vultures, silent to hear the shallow breathing of the boy better. The monitor pops up with symptoms; varying levels of lung damage, nausea, retina damage, and—

Damian heaves of the bed, his limbs violently spasming as Dick goes into complete panic mode.

Seizures.

“Where did you find him?” Tim asks Jason, walking back at the map of filter locations again. Scanning at the interior design of the machines again. Doing everything he’d already done over again, because he’s missing something. What is he missing? Yes, he can definitely tell that Bruce’s hunch was right, the pit water is running the filter, but not only that. It’s amplifying it. But amplifying what?  

“Alfred, we need you down here.”

Gruffly Jason answers, “Found ‘im at Main and Cobbler. Found ‘im like that too, lying on the street like roadkill.” He stuffs his hands in his pocket all cool, but Tim catches the tell.

“He might not be the only one either,” O solemnly says over the coms, on Tim’s wrist computer, the reports she sends fill him with shocked horror. Security cams of kids being rushed to the emergency room, their parents with tear-streaked faces as doctors frantically rush to and fro.

“Alfred, I need you now!”

“I’ll get ‘im.” Jason yells, his boots ringing loudly on the stairs up to the manor.

“O,” Tim’s voice is quiet, disconnected. “How many cases...No, how many victims are there so far?”

A pause, two. “Currently? There is a hundred and sixty-four reported cases that have been admitted to the hospital. Most are in critical condition, but doctors are doing everything they can and, unlike the animals, it seems like there’s been no fatalities yet.”

“Good.” Tim takes a deep breath through his nose. “That’s good.”

“We have a fucking problem here!” Jason screeches, he’s back with Alfred.

Actually let Tim rephrase that, on Jason’s back is Alfred. Fuck. That is less good. Tim is not the praying type, but when Jason drags over another gurney to strap Alfred in? The pallor in the older gentleman highlighted by his blurry unfocused eyes? Tim prays. His knees buckling but his grip on the computer table keeps him from crashing to the floor.

‘Ra’s. Please Ra’s, no. Don’t take them away from him. Don’t do this.’

But he knows somewhere Ra’s is watching, the Demon Head drinking in the destruction of the city he hates. Somewhere a ninja is disclosing exactly how much his attack stings. How effective his poison is as the Bat leans over two of the most important people in his life, the oldest and youngest and breaks.

Tim wishes and prays for things he can’t have.

“Get up, we’re gonna wreck these trash cans, right? Right, Babybird?” Jason says, roughly yanking Tim away from the computer to the motorcycles in the back. The Red Hood’s trembling becomes more pronounced at finding another family member at death’s door. “Look, it’s Occam's razor. Simplest way to take outta bitch. Who cares what they’re doing to the air? We smash the things and poof they’re outta the picture n’ we’re back ta normal.”

“It would stop whatever process they’re doing,” Tim rationalizes, “But, Jason, whatever is in the air affecting people is still there.”

“I don’t care. N. N! Dammit, Dick, get your bubble ass over here.” Jason takes control and Nightwing slowly turns to the two, his face wet and gone. “Let’s go huntin’. Let’s fuck these things up. You’d like that, huh?”

Nightwing expression transforms into a feral snarl. “ Yes I would. Let’s.”

“B, you stay here and keep treating those two.” Tim grabs his helmet and straddles the bike. “Keep looking at the files, keeping looking for what we’re missing. It’s got to be there somewhere.”

“Somewhere...right. We need a new approach. This is not like Ra’s. He’s switching it up. Switching from his usual elaborate style with bits of clues bleeding all over the place.” B replies tersely, losing that haunted look momentarily. His heads steady as he makes Alfred and Damian as comfortable as possible. “The only thing we’re finding is just oxygen.”

It’s at that second it crashes into Tim. It’s just oxygen.

‘The filtration units perform their designed function, nothing more. They will filter this wretched air your disgusting city has polluted and leave only oxygen in its place.’

It’s just oxygen.

“Oh. my. god. It’s exactly what it says on the label,” Tim whispers stunned. “It was right there in front of us, of course it was, that inhumane, diabolical, waste of—”

“Tim? Come on, we’ve some things to trash, no time to get lost in yer head.”  

For the first time in fourteen hours, Tim grins wildly at the Bat’s around him, “Then let me share with the class.”

Tim has a plan.

And damn it feels good.

At the climax, Red Robin ends up with a dislocated knee and three cracked ribs. The blood dripping from his nose streams down his chin as Ra’s shakes him repeatedly. The villain holding him high off the ground as each word is punctuated by the grip on the uniform collar.

“You. Infuriating. Insufferable. Pest.”

“You fucking—“ cough “—love me.”

“You ruined everything!”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

Alfred and Damian are safe. Gotham is safe. Nightwing and Jason took out filters like moms at a 75% off sale and fun fact, did you know that pure oxygen is bad for you? Sure, we need it to breathe, but too much high pressure oxygen can give the same side effects sick scuba divers have.

Plus, it can kill you.

Solution: pump some sweet carbon dioxide at the same rate Ra’s super filters pump oxygen to balance it out and voila no more oxygen poisoning for you. Who handled that? Brucie. Not the Bat, but Bruce freaking Wayne, who contacted WE with a little help from O, and all factories were a go. Just in time, since exposure to pure oxygen for over sixteen hours can cause permanent lung damage and death and guess who confronted Ra’s juuuuuuust to stop him from turning up the filtration levels so the carbon dioxide couldn’t work? Guess who took out Ra’s’ remote control system that synced up the machines? Guess who stopped the oxygen plague at fifteen hours and forty-two minutes?

“How dare you!”

You’re looking at him, baby.

Around them, the building is in shambles, the extra filtration unit was cheating, Ra’s, but hey they’re on the ground floor with no windows for the man to kick Tim through so score. True, his body is a limp, useless lump, but spite keeps him smug and victorious. He hopes the muscles in his face are working enough to convey that. It must have since Ra’s expression twists in absolute fury. “How dare you deny my vengeance! How dare you continue to get in my way over and over again—”

“—Then end it, you bastard.” Tim forces his eyes crack open to meet Ra’s burning glare. “You g-got me right where you want me, don’t you?”

“I wanted you far from here!” he hisses at him. “I wanted you miles away in my keep, safe and sound and mine.”

“Tough fucking luck, you want to stop me? Then kill me, Darling.” Tim moves his arms to scratch hard at Ra’s wrists, drawing blood before grab them tightly. Anything to take a little of the weight so he can breathe a little more, speak a little more, because he’s not done yet. He’s actually impressed that Ra’s can hold him up, he’s sure he broke at least two of those fingers. The demon’s trap is such a pain to evade after all. “You want to win your stupid games? Then stop playing and break my neck. You’ve said it yourself, I’m a detective. I figure out all your plans and foil them because newsflash that’s what detectives do. So here you go, the perfect opportunity to end me, end me like the annoying, persistent bug you know I am. You have the skill, so what are you doing to do?”

“You—”

“I love you.”

Ra’s freezes, the man almost a statue and Tim would laugh and laugh if he had the energy for it. His toes scrape on the pavement, he feels like a ghost already.

“I am never going to stop.” Tim tries to crack his lips into a smile. They’re too dry and it hurts. “You are never going to stop. I’ve accepted it. I hate it. I hate you, and I hate how much I still want to be with you, but I’ve accepted it. So are you going to do the same or finally break us?”

Tim’s feet crash to the ground, he doesn’t bother supporting his own weight, just sags into Ra’s’ grip still around his neck. A few yards away their two forms would appear as lovers and not enemies about to kill each other. “It is not that simple, my brilliant scorpion.”

“We’ve already drowned R-Ra’s.” He wheezes. “Now make up your damn mind.”

The fingers begin to constrict and Tim winces but is not surprised. This was always a possible outcome. He just wishes he could see Ra’s’ face when his last contingency kicks in. The one that connects his heart rate to the bombs attached to not only the last of Ra’s’ Lazarus pits but even the ones tucked deep into the earth on the vein that springs them up in the first place.

It doesn’t matter.

He’ll just have to wait until they meet again in Hell.

Tim doubts his lover would make him wait too long.

“What have you done to me?”

The air gradually cut off from Tim’s throat. His broken gasps becoming fainter, weaker. But he doesn’t look away, only lifts his hand to brush Ra’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. He’s angry at the black creeping into his vision so quickly, Ra’s’ wretched sight may be the last thing he sees...but he doesn’t regret it. He’d do it again if he could.

“I should...no, I must be rid of you—”

There’s voices in the background, shouting his name, but Tim can’t pay them any mind. Not when his heartbeat is the loudest thing he hears in his ears, the way it rushes trying so hard, so frantically to still beat. He doesn’t want to miss a thing, not even as the darkness finally overtakes him and he. is. out.

“—Yet I cannot stand the thought of mourning you.”

“T–!”

“Tim, please you have to get up.”

Tim gasps, his eyes shooting open to stalactites and faces above his own.

“Timmy, you’re finally awake!”

“I-I’m alive?” he croaks. His voice grating and sore. Huh. Well Tim didn’t plan for this. He reaches to his neck and wonders if there’s bruises in the shape of Ra’s’ fingerprints. It definitely hurts like it would.

“Yeah, the sec we got in a hundred feet, Ra’s lobbed ya at us like a football and ran off like the filthy coward he is.” Jason sits at the end of the bed.

But he didn’t snap his neck like vigilante expected either. The assassin could have, would have had enough time to do that before the others could get to him. He could have had a consolation prize: revenge nice and neat by throwing another dead son at the Bat’s feet.

But he didn’t.

Red takes in his surroundings, the bats echoing somewhere in the cave, how he must be on the good stuff because he can’t feel anything. Not that it stops Dick from placing a hand on his shoulder to pin him down to the cot when he tries to sit up.

“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing, little brother?”

“Where’s Alfred and Damian? Are they alright? Are they—”

An indignant sniff to his left, “What? Did you suppose you could be rid of my existence so easily? Despite your predisposition for it, do not be a fool, Drake.” Damian leans over with a show of crossing his arms. But there’s a lack of bite in those words.

“Are your animals, Batcow and all, okay?”

Damian glowers and looks away, “They are fine, of course. Just like you shall also be in no time, I suppose.”

Tim smiles. Watches as Dick coos and attacks the youngest in a big hug of death. Even Jason’s lips twitch.

Alfred steps into his scope of vision. Tim’s breathing relaxes more, it’s great to see the grace and poise back in the butler. Alfred is...special to him, to the whole family, for a reason after all. “I am here as well. Master Damian and I should recover rather quickly without much assistance. It seems, however, the recovery for your injuries will require much more.”

Tim manages not to shrug, to be fair it really could have been much worse. It was almost as if Ra’s had been playing nice. He might actually recover in one or two months! He looks around, his head dropping back to the pillows at the lack of one more..person he would like to see. His heart betraying him with disappointment.

“Where’s Bruce?” His tone betrays him too, dang it.

“He is out on the veranda. There is something urgent that he must see to,” Alfred says steadily, the man thinks of how Master Bruce has been guarding the entrance to the medbay for quite some time. His ward being armed with things that hurt, for the Bat has lost his charitable mood as of late. Then the butler arches an eyebrow, “In fact, Master Timothy, could you please enlighten us as to why over twenty ninjas are camped on the lawn?”

Huh. The gesture is sweet. Almost as sweet as the time Ra’s gave him the files for nineteen sex traffickers for his birthday.

“I probably got them in the divorce.” At Dick’s strangled noises, Tim adds, “Nah, most likely they’re just here to make sure I stabilize.”

The collective sigh of relief around him is annoying. Okay, Tim can’t help it.

“I mean, we’d have to break up or something for that to happen first and I don’t remember the two of us doing that.”

Cries of outrage, “Tim, he almost killed you!”

“But he didn’t.”

“He almost killed off half of Gotham’s population!”

“But we stopped him in time.” Tim wiggles minutely to get comfortable. “The fight is over, no harm, no foul.”

“Tim, you’re harmed all over!”

Tim continues like he wasn’t interrupted, “It’s like a normal Tuesday for us at this rate. Alfred, could you tell B I’m fine and awake? It should be enough for the ninjas to get the memo that I’m okay and go the fuck away.”

“If that is what you wish for, Master Timothy.” The butler bows and walks away, knowing the small crowd around the bed will keep the teenager secure. Before he heads upstairs, he picks up the AK-47 resting to the side. Some people need...persuasion it seems to leave his family in peace, though he supposes that the weapon is unbecoming for not being ‘a bat.’ To be frank, as Alfred’s shadow darkens the halls one step at a time, a line of children’s poetry continues to echo in his mind.

‘But I’ve brought a big bat. I’m ready, you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me.’

Alfred will give Ra’s one concession. His men are quite annoyingly...persistent to get rid of. The challenge of it all is almost admirable.

Almost.

It takes a month for Tim to beg, banter, and threaten in order return to his perch where he can finally be alone.

He’s overwhelmed by bliss at the thought.

Okay, so it may take longer than usual to dismantle the current array of bugs spread throughout the place. He may have had to sell his soul and swear to rest for a few more weeks that he swears he doesn’t need.

But, still, it’s nice to be home.

Where he’s not smothered every half in hour, he means you, you Dick. It’s lovely to be able to limp around his apartment freely, his prop-crutches being useful for a change. There’s no one to judge, assess, or psychoanalyze him on his views and how they haven’t changed concerning a certain person. He can finally relax and sink into his own bed and Tim almost wants to cry.

He loves his room. Where Tim doesn’t bother to lock his bedroom window. It’s annoying to fix the locks if they’re going to be broken repeatedly. So, at midnight, when he hears it crack open, the sliding of it so soft, Tim doesn’t turn around in bed to face it. He just waits for the cold of his back to turn to warmth, for something heavy to sink beside him and make the old mattress squeak. He’s patient for the arms to wind hesitantly around his waist, mindful of his injuries with a delicate touch.

“I wish you would cease needlessly provoking me.”

“I wish you’d close the window, you’re letting the cold in.”

“Have I ever failed to keep you warm, detective?”

Tim hums and settles deeper in the mattress, the ache of his injuries easing under good pain killers and the chest moving against his spine. The night eases around them, shadows moving, reminding him of roof tops and flying free, never so free as this.

“So, do you hate me yet?”

Ra’s huffs quietly into Tim’s ear, “Not nearly enough it seems.” He presses a lingering kiss in the hollow behind it.

“I won, you know. Now you must honorably, because you have honor, leave them alone for at least a few months. I’ve earned it.”

“You are not a gracious winner, my love.”

“Oh, does that mean you’re a sore loser? I promise not to rub it in your face too much.” He covers the hand resting on his stomach with one of his own.

“Failure provides opportunities for improvement, dearest. Next time, I will forgo giving you the option to choose. I am ashamed that I forgot how your self-preservation instincts are nonexistent.” He sucks lightly on the nape of Tim’s neck. “I know better now that next time I must drug you, next time I must have my men isolate you in a place far away so any plan of mine can proceed without your delightful interference.”

“Can we not talk about next time?” Right now he doesn’t want to think of all the things that could and very well would be on the horizon. Doesn’t want to think of backup plans to the whole spirited away scenario. Not right now.

“If that what you wish, my beloved.”

A snort, “Besides a closed window?”

“Besides a closed window,” Ra’s agrees, starting to entangle their legs together. “I have no desire to leave your side tonight.”

“...Good.” Slowly, Tim is lulled by the presence of the demon giving him what he needs to fall asleep. It’s horrible how dependent his body has become on Ra’s. That might be Ra’s’ most successful diabolical plan yet.

Just before he’s done for, Ra’s whispers,

“One day, Timothy...I will not stop. I will follow through and wring your neck. Do you understand me correctly?”

“I do...I wouldn’t have it any other way. You know that. Now go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, my fair one.”

“Night, Ra’s.”

Tim dreams of frogs and scorpions. Of them at the bottom of the pond, the two floating motionless in the current...but floating together.

It is a good dream.