#why am i talking about dick on a tim post

[dukeofthomas]

I can't find it now but there's a post about suspension of disbelief and how it's broken when the story starts trying to excuse it. "character gets knocked unconscious for hours but there's no further issues from this" okay 👍 "and actually this makes perfect sense because of this and that" um no it doesn't why are you lying to me. like i am willing to ignore the holes and the discrepancies!! all you need to do is let me and not bring unnecessary attention to it!!!

and all that is my issue with the whole robin child soldier argument. like i am willing to ignore it i am willing to engage with the fantasy literally all you need to do is NOT try to convince me that Actually It's Fine Because They Want To Do It or whatever. like literally just shut up about it and i can engage with the fantasy!!

[dollishmehrayan]

WEIRD QUIRKS BATBOYS HAVE IN A RELATIONSHIP ── .✦

A/n: I can’t stop thinking about batboys who have gen z humor in relationships like please💔 RELEASE ME. Like imagine these fighting crime then laughing while watching TikTok on a random Sunday?? (Tags: batboys x fem!reader weird quirks)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Emotional Support Golden Retriever BF: Dick will send you a random “I love you” text with 15 heart emojis and the rainbow hearts in one line (ugh DISGUSTING 🤢) followed by “I miss you” five minutes later… even if you’re in the same room. (STUPID MILLENNIAL.)

Chaotic Selfies: He’s the type to send you selfies with the dumbest captions like, “Why am I kinda hot tho?” or “Babe, if you leave me, you’re blind.”

Random Dance Breaks: Dick will randomly break out in TikTok dances in the middle of your conversations. You’ll be arguing about what to have for dinner, and he’ll just hit this (here) saying, “Can’t be mad at this, babe.”

His Comedy Bit: Anytime you trip or stumble, Dick’s like, “Are you falling for me again?” Cue your eyeroll as he grins like he just invented comedy.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The "I Hate Everyone but You" BF: Jason sends you TikToks that scream “us” energy. Think of the “grumpy bf, sunshine gf” trope in meme form.

Trash-Talking Together: He doesn’t even pretend to like people. “He looks like wind whistles through his head,” he’ll whisper to you about someone in a coffee shop, and you’ll lose it laughing.

Petty King: He sends screenshots of your arguments back to you like, “Tell me I wasn’t right tho.” But he’ll also say, “We’re not fighting, I just think I’m funnier.”

Affection, Jason Style: If you’re cold, Jason’s like, “You should’ve brought a jacket,” then gives you his. But only after making a snarky comment like, “This makes me look good, doesn’t it?”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The “I Can’t Sleep” BF: Tim sends you memes at 3 a.m. with “this is us” captions. Then he sends another an hour later saying, “No fr, we need to sleep.”

Weird Intellectual Tangents: Tim will randomly look up from his laptop and ask, “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or 100 duck-sized horses?” You’re too used to it at this point.

Social Media Detective: He likes your posts so fast it’s suspicious and always is the first comment with “❤️” . “How did you see that in two seconds?” you ask. He shrugs. “I have notifications on.”

Soft Nerd Energy: He makes playlists with names like “thinking about you in the Batcave” or “late-night snack runs with you.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Blunt Affection: Damian’s the type to say, “You look ridiculous,” but if anyone else says it, he’ll glare and be like, “She’s perfect.”

Random Acts of Service: He’s not into grand gestures, but suddenly your favorite snack is waiting on your desk, and he’ll just mutter, “Don’t make it a big deal.”

Reluctant Meme User: He pretends he’s too sophisticated for memes, but you’ll catch him smirking at one you sent. “It’s not that funny,” he’ll insist, but you know better.

Sass King: If you call him cute, he’ll say, “I know.” But if you ignore him for too long, he’ll sulk like, “I don’t require your attention. But also, why haven’t you looked at me in 10 minutes?”

[svsssfrfr]

I fell out of touch with this friend of mine and got back in touch with her. I call these times pre timeskip and post timeskip. I am convinced tim would fuck with the batfam talking about yj.

Tim: Remember the supercycle? I miss it... Jason: The WHAT. Tim: Sorry, pre timeskip.

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

Cass: *Fighting* Tim: Wow, you knid of fight like empress, a lot better tbh.. Cass: Who? Tim: Sorry, pre timeskip

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

Steph: *yapping* Tim: Sometimes I miss secret, you kinda look like her.. Steph: She tried to kill me. Tim: She was nicer after that. after the whole thing with darkseid. Steph: The whole WHAT. Tim: Sorry, pre timeskip.

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

Damian: I demand you take me to batburger or else I will suffocate you in your sleep. Tim: GOD, you remind me of Slobo. Damian: I do not care about your adventures 'pre timeskip' Tim: I killed santa. Damian: What?... Tim: Sorry, pre timeskip

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

Jason: Keep that abomanation away from me. Dick: Come one, the discowing suit isn't that bad.. Tim: Not as bad as Mr. Sarcastic. Dick: Timmy, respectfully, WHO THE HELL IS THAT? Jason: Don't you dare say- Tim: Pre timeskip.

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

Dick: Tim, I think it's time you opened up about your time 'pre timeskip.' Tim: You were there for half of it. Like when cassie competed in the olympics against a villain nation. Dick: I- I- I don't remember this as clearly as I should. Tim: And when Anita's parents were turned into children. Dick: I don't even know who Anita is? And why do all your case files just say T.B.C? Tim: I left bart, cassie and kon in charge of those. Dick: The only one that says anything more just says 'I have a spaceship'. When did your team get a spaceship? Tim: Pre timeskip.

[rottingghosty]

The Realms PR | DC X DP Part 2

this isn’t as good in my thoughts because writing as bruce??? really hard. how am i supposed to write a paranoid man if i am the most chillest person i can be… anyway heres your part 2 food of this au, not sure if i’ll continue writing more parts? depends on how i feel.

errors are made and sorry the the lackluster performance this might be

if you want to use my prompt please give me credits thank you

☁️☁️☁️☁️

Danny very much prefers to have nobody intervene on his business as the vigilante of Amity Park. He’s essentially called dibs on it if you consider the fact that the entire town is basically his metaphorical grave since it’s his haunt and he did die to make the portal to the Ghost Zone open. He very much ignores that specific can of worms because that’s a heavy topic that he won’t ever talk about because Spectra really ruined his own outlook on professionals. Jazz will most likely want to open that can but that’s for future Danny.

Where was he? Oh yeah.

Danny very much likes being a solo hero with his friends and sister aiding when they can. He very much dislikes the fact that people have been trying to enter his haunt without permission. Does he know why people who tried to pass through Amity Park suddenly find themselves back at where the welcome sign is? No. Is he going to ask? Also no because it allows the residents and himself privacy even when he’s got the GIW on his tail or even his own parents.

He’s not going to rebuke this gift especially with his influx of fame. Which reminds Danny that he needs to post a new tweet, maybe a video of Cujo playing with the kids in the park from a few days ago? He figures people would be more interested if they knew a ghost dog existed. Maybe he can include one of Ember’s concerts or something.

Man he has so many videos to post and such little time to do so, but he thinks Sam and Tucker are having fun being his PR team with the way Sam had a manic gleam in her eyes when Lois Lane and Clark Kent sent her a message of twitter asking for an interview. All while Tucker basically going giddy at Red Robin and Oracle trying to get through the firewall that’s blocking Amity Park from eyes being too close for all their comforts.

Bruce Wayne stared intently at the video before him, it was only thirty seconds but it was thirty seconds enough to cause him to tighten his grip on the arm rests of his chair in the Batcave. His blue eyes staring down at the figure in the video as it replayed on loop. His shoulders tense and bunched up as he inhaled sharply at the frame that happened ten seconds in.

Because right there, staring up at the camera looked too much like Jason. It looked too much like his boy, his son that he had lost when Jason was only fifteen. Normally he would’ve brushed it off but it was the way that it then shifted into Dick, Steph, Tim and then Damian—

Ancient of Hope is what Phantom had called them, the embodiment of hope and how its form switched to what people believed in. Apparently it looked so much like the Robins of Gotham because Gotham was— is the biggest source of hope there is. Yet, this was an unknown.

Bruce couldn’t trust a word that Phantom said, ghosts are an unknown. Trying to get Constantine to talk about it was a struggle itself, the equivalent of trying to pull teeth out because the man was equally as stubborn as Bruce and it was even worse when the man had cursed up a storm when they had a meeting about Phantom’s first videos.

Ghosts are a variable in an equation that Bruce is trying to solve but he simply can’t force his way into solving it, not when this whole thing has turned into a diplomatic nightmare with the fact that Oa has started pressuring the US government about the mistreatment of the Infinite Realms beings.

The Justice League Dark even adding in the pressure— Deadman being one of the more outspoken members as he explained as much as he knew about the Infinite Realms despite not quite qualifying as one of their residents but still considered as one in an odd way. Constantine grumbling about as he came and went, saying how the Ghost Investigation Ward could’ve started a war or destroyed everyone.

Clark and Lane were writing up articles, having conversations with the PR Team of Phantom— two teenagers who were involved heavily and considered ambassadors to the Realms because of their connection to Phantom.

Phantom who is the High King. Phantom who doesn’t want his subjects hunted anymore and took a peaceful route instead of simply declaring war.

Bruce takes a heavier breath, jaw clenched as he watched the video loop one more time before the closed the tab to look more into the GIW and their backers, eyes narrowing in two names.

Vladimir Masters and Lex Luthor.

[suzukiblu]

Hey, I was reading through "kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit" (which I adore, Tim's plot to kidnap Kon is gonna go great with definitely no more derailments for sure) and it seems like there's at least one post missing? Between the one ending with the "You didn't even look at me, though." "Didn't I?" dialogue to the one starting with "Superboy carts him halfway across town" without actually showing Superboy finding out about Tim's matching soulmark.

I . . . what the actual fuck, haha, there's like a good 700 words of PRETTY IMPORTANT CONVERSATION missing there and I cannot find ANY sign of any posts that should have them, mis-tagged or not, so like . . . Tumblr, what. Or ME what. Either Tumblr fucked up or I fucked up, and hell if I know which at this point. I could swear I posted those words, but god knows what happened to them and I am definitely not gonna go through ALL of this blog figuring out why they're not where they're supposed to be, so WELP, fuckit, here's just everything of this WIP so far all together and all in order behind the cut: 16.7k of an incredibly normal Tim Drake being an incredibly normal civilian about this situation.

Apparently Cadmus knew Experiment Thirteen was the one to invest in because Experiment Thirteen had a soulmark. 

Apparently Cadmus also considered terminating Experiment Thirteen because Experiment Thirteen had a soulmark. 

Tim knows this because he broke into the place and stole a copy of Superboy's file the day after they met. He also knows what Superboy's soulmark looks like, because these absolute bastards not only took multiple pictures of it, they put those pictures in his fucking file. Not even, like, classified or tucked away behind a firewall or a password or anything. Not even in a separate folder. Just right there in his standard file where literally any random scientist or doctor or goddamn intern could trip right over them without even meaning to. 

Forget the fucking mind control; that's fucked up. 

So yeah. Tim knows what Superboy's soulmark looks like. It's a stark, dark red, all sharp angles slung low in the V of his Adonis belt and cutting from one hip to the other, looking not unlike a stylized bird in flight coming at the viewer head-on. Bold. Undeniable. Very much like Superboy himself, really. 

And exactly like the mark that came in on Tim when, he now knows, Superboy was first put together in a fucking petri dish. So that's . . . a whole thing, there. 

Well. At least his soulmate is only literally fifteen years younger than him, not physically and mentally. 

Although that doesn't really seem like a big improvement, to be honest. 

Tim didn't even know he was into guys, actually? Definitely didn't know Superboy was into guys, all things considered. Like, he would not expect somebody like him to ever be subtle about who or what he was into. 

Maybe they're platonics, Tim tries to tell himself. The fact that his first reflex upon learning that Superboy was his soulmate was to immediately question his own sexuality doesn't really support that theory, though. 

Though it does help explain why Poison Ivy putting her hands on the guy had pissed him off so bad. 

Like. It very much does. 

Tim doesn't actually know what to do about this. Bruce still thinks he doesn't even have a soulmate, due to Tim previously really, really not wanting to deal with the absolute embarrassment of admitting that said soulmate was an actual fucking baby, so Tim never got the Bat-version of the soulmate talk. Bruce'd sat him down to give it to him when he'd first become Robin, but Tim hadn't had a mark then, obviously, so they'd both just assumed he didn't have to worry about it. Tim is pretty sure Bruce had been as relieved as he had to dodge that particular bullet, really. Apparently Dick had needed visual aids and hadn't understood the "gilly talk" version. And Jason had had questions. 

Lots of questions. 

Creative ones. 

Sometimes Tim suspects Jason might've been an asshole. Like, just a little bit of one. 

So no, Tim does not blame Bruce for deciding to skip that particular talk with him, especially when they'd both thought he wasn't gonna need to know any of it anyway. 

So . . . yeah. He doesn't know how he's supposed to approach this situation. Obviously telling Superboy that they're soulmates would compromise Tim's secret identity and therefore Bruce's, and everybody and their damn mother knows Superboy himself doesn't even have a secret identity so it's not like Tim can figure that out and approach him that way. 

On the other hand, not telling him that they're soulmates isn't a great start to being soulmates, now is it. 

Crap, Tim thinks. 

Then he calls Dick, because if he has to sit through the Bat-version of the soulmate talk, at least maybe Dick will be slightly less embarrassing to hear it from. 

As long as there's no visual aids involved, anyway. 

"Hey, Tim," Dick greets as he picks up the phone. Tim has a carefully crafted plan of attack, of course; several, in fact. He's got all sorts of subtle ways to lead the conversation without revealing anything too damning or too specific and while keeping everything in hypotheticals. Just making the whole thing either a quick thought exercise or casual curiosity from an unmarked kid who's heard one too many soulmate stories and wants to know more. So Tim's prepared. Tim's ready. 

Tim panics. 

"Poison Ivy kissed my soulmate and I want to burn down her entire life," he blurts. 

"Uh," Dick says. "You're . . . gonna have to catch me up a little here, baby bird. For starters, I thought you didn't have a soulmate." 

"I didn't," Tim says as he starts to pace back and forth across his bedroom floor, because he's already screwed this up so there's no point in playing coy now. "Then some dickheads in Metropolis decided to steal Superman's dead body and make a cocky asshole with douchey shades and a leather fetish out of it." 

"Ohhhhh boy," Dick says. "What'd B say?" 

"I found out like half an hour ago and you're the only person I've told, so nothing yet," Tim says. "What's the Bat-protocol for finding out your soulmate is somebody in the community, exactly? Specifically somebody in douchey shades?" 

"Depends," Dick says. "How'd the kid react?" 

". . . I don't know how to say this without sounding like a total creep, but he doesn't know," Tim admits with a wince. "I broke into Cadmus to make a copy of his file after I met him and they just . . . had his soulmark in it. Like. There wasn't even a password. It wasn't even in an isolated folder. It was just there." 

"That is the most fucked-up thing I've heard since the last time I had to talk to Jervis Tetch," Dick mutters in obvious disgust. "Alright, well, how are you reacting, then?" 

"My soulmate is a baby," Tim grumbles disgruntledly, dropping into his desk chair. "A baby who is also a teenager." 

"Tim, you're a teenager too," Dick reminds him wryly. "You are very much so a teenager too, in fact." 

"Yeah, and it sucks," Tim says emphatically. "And I have, like, actual legal guardians and a home and a trust fund. Superboy just lives somewhere in Hawaii with a sleazy businessman and his kid and some random guy from Cadmus!" 

"That's, uh, actually not great," Dick says, sounding a little troubled. 

"You think?!" Tim demands. "He's a baby! An infant! And he lives with his frigging manager!" 

"What the actual hell," Dick says. 

"Just–is it ethical to kidnap your own soulmate and does that even matter if they're not legally a person and so you couldn't actually be charged for anything anyway?" Tim mutters speculatively, drumming his fingers on his desk for a moment and then booting up his computer. "I mean, B can't get mad at me for doing it if the courts can't get me for doing it, right?" 

"Wait, Superboy's not legally a person?" Dick asks incredulously. 

"Nope," Tim says. "Which neither Cadmus nor the sleazebag selling his likeness for a living has in any way tried to correct, for the record. Technically he's classified as intellectual property, but Cadmus forfeited legal possession when Superman turned up alive again, presumably to avoid Superman ever finding out that they'd had said legal possession, so technically if I went and kidnapped him it'd be more like . . . salvage, maybe? Like, in the eyes of the law, I mean." 

"Yeah, okay, in that case kidnapping your own soulmate might be less an ethics question and more a moral obligation," Dick says. 

"Good point," Tim says, frowning consideringly as he pulls up his browser. "Do you think if I just do it as Tim Drake I can avoid compromising my identity?" 

"I have no idea but if I were you I'd already be booking my flight and thinking up a cheap excuse to 'accidentally' flash a teen heartthrob superhero my soulmark anyway," Dick says. 

"I am already booking my flight," Tim says mid-click of said booking. "Although, uh, flashing him our particular soulmark might require, like . . . third base, and I don't even know if he likes guys. I don't even know if he knows if he likes guys, he's like five minutes out of the cloning tube and like, I'm literally fifteen and don't know if I like guys, so why the hell would he?" 

"Okay, yeah, that could be an issue," Dick says. "Hm. Wardrobe malfunction? Slutty beach day? Wet T-shirt contest?" 

"I'm not above any of those options at this point, frankly," Tim grumbles, even though those ideas are all very "Nightwing" and not very "Robin". Technically he shouldn't be approaching this like Robin would anyway, because god forbid Superboy recognize his methodology. 

Slutty beach day might have to be a thing, Tim realizes with resigned dread. He is really not comfortable with slutty beach day being a thing. 

. . . maybe if he just gets lucky, he can catch Superboy having his own slutty beach day. Not to make any assumptions, just Tim's pretty sure if either of them were ever going to be the type to wear a speedo or low-waisted swim trunks or just walk around with their soulmark out in general . . . 

Which, in Superboy's defense, well–his soulmark is already on file with Cadmus, so yeah. He might not even care if other people see it or not, considering that. 

Then again, if Tim knew that a bunch of random strangers who'd wanted to mind-control him had all seen and taken pictures of his soulmark, he'd never wear anything that risked exposing it again. Like. Ever. Possibly he'd just live and die in a wetsuit. Or coveralls. Overalls. Or just–whatever. Something like that. 

. . . come to think of it, Superboy's costume is all one piece, isn't it. 

Cadmus is full of assholes, Tim decides as he confirms his booking, then gets up to throw together a go-bag. He has no plan whatsoever, but whatever; it's a twelve-hour flight. He's gonna have time to think something up. 

One go-through with airport security and a twelve-hour flight later, Tim has not thought anything up. 

Dammit. 

It's early morning in Honolulu and Tim is very, very tired. He didn't sleep on the flight because he was making plans, but to be honest said plans are all shit. His best option is gonna take six months to fully execute, for starters. Which is a reasonable amount of time to have to spend getting a near-complete stranger to trust you enough to let you kidnap them away from everything and everyone they know, he knows, but still. It's not even that solid a plan, even discounting the frustrating time delay. It's just the best of a bad lot. 

Maybe Tim should've, like . . . actually stopped long enough to tell Bruce what he was doing and get some advice. Or at least Alfred, anyway. 

Just . . . it's fine, Tim tells himself as he and his go-bag get a taxi. This is just preliminary work anyway. Recon more than anything else. Ideally he'll manage to "meet" Superboy, but he's not dumb enough to think he's going to get the guy to like him this quick, much less trust him. The goal is "passing awareness of his civilian identity's existence" and nothing else. 

Then the street kind of blows up in front of his taxi. 

So that's a whole thing. 

And here's Tim without so much as a damn domino in his pocket. 

People are screaming, things are very literally on fire, and some rando in lycra is yelling at the cop car on the corner. Normal Tuesday, really, except it's broad fucking daylight and again Tim doesn't have a mask on him, much less his bo staff or utility belt or anything actually any kind of useful. 

Fuck airport security, Tim thinks. 

"Who's the jerk with the monologue?" he asks the driver, who seems largely nonplussed by the whole situation and has definitely left the meter running while they're trapped between the other cars and the blown-up street. Priorities, Tim guesses. Can't blame a guy for having them. 

"Beats me, man," the driver says with a shrug. "I don't keep track of the spandex set, I just take the necessary detours around 'em when I'm working." 

"That might be lycra," Tim says, reaching for his wallet. "But fair enough. How much do I owe you?" 

He doesn't have a mask right now, no, but he can't just leave civilians unprotected. He can at least help people get out of the area and maybe distract the lycra rando for a bit, if it comes to it. If nothing else, he can–

Somebody in flashy red and blue and a black leather jacket crash-lands on top of the lycra rando with very deliberate flair and a very loud crow, and then the street blows up again. 

This time, though, the explosion is definitely telekinetic in origin. 

Specifically tactile telekinetic, Tim thinks it's safe to assume. 

He pays the driver, then grabs his go-bag and gets to getting people out of the area as subtly as possible while Superboy and the lycra rando tear up the street even worse. Like, almost impressively worse. Tim really wouldn't have thought the damage could even get that much worse, but they both find a way. 

He is going to have such a hard time convincing Bruce to let him drag Superboy to Gotham. 

Well, it's a six-month plan. Maybe the guy will mellow out a bit somewhere in there. Learn some subtlety. Pick up a bit of finesse. 

Tim isn't actually that delusional, obviously, but that's the lie he's gonna tell Batman when he pitches it. 

Superboy takes down the lycra rando without Tim having to improvise any assists, fortunately, and Tim manages to keep any civilians from getting in the other's way as he handles the fight. The street officially looks like a gravel road, but nobody's dead or even particularly injured–to surprising degrees, in fact–so Tim will take it. Superboy doesn't seem concerned, though a few of the civilians mutter disparaging things about what this is going to do to their commute. 

Tim technically understands their point, but also Superboy did just save at least those cops from getting blown up and the street was already pretty much fucked before he even got here, so he's not sure why they're all complaining about being alive and in one piece. People in Gotham are more intimately familiar with their own mortality than most private citizens, though, and also just grateful when it's not the Joker, so maybe it's just a regional thing. 

He shoos the last few civilians over to the EMTs to get checked out and starts trying to figure out his own exit strategy for this situation before any cops try to write his name down or something. Chances of getting Superboy's attention right now are slim, so it'd be best to just–

"Hey, man," Superboy says, landing lightly right beside him. "Thanks for the assist. Saw you getting people out of the way, made things way easier." 

Tim stares at him. 

"You didn't even look at me, though," he says reflexively. Superboy grins at him. 

"Didn't I?" he asks. His suit is torn right across his stomach and low down along his hips. His soulmark is not even slightly obscured and he is going to absolutely no effort to hide any part of it. 

Tim has never experienced something this convenient in his life. 

So yeah, Bruce is definitely going to assume that he deliberately hired some metahuman stranger to go to Hawaii and rip up Superboy's clothes in very indecent and very public fashion when he tells him this story. 

Frankly, that would've been a better plan than the slutty beach day one, so maybe Tim will just pretend that he did. 

"Uh," Tim says, really not sure what to say right now. Superboy flashes him the cocky smirk from all those lame teen magazine posters, still not going to any kind of effort to cover his soulmark. 

Tim hates Cadmus, but also is kind of embarrassingly affected to be seeing his mark on someone else's skin live and in person. With the photos, he was more distracted by the violation of their existence than anything else, but here and now Superboy is just standing in front of him with their mark bared for the whole damn world to see like he wants it seen. Like he wants Tim to see it. 

Like he wants everyone to know that he belongs to someone and exactly who that someone just so happens to be. 

So yeah. Tim is . . . affected. 

Tim is definitely, definitely affected. 

And increasingly less convinced of any possibility of this bond being platonic, too, because there is no way in hell that their mark looks half as good on him as it does on Superboy. Like. Not a chance. 

Tim really, really wants to touch it, which is technically SOP with soulmarks but is also a bit more fraught of an experience when said soulmarks are more suggestively placed. And they are very much in public right now, so, uh . . . yeah. 

So that's a thing and all. 

"Alright there, man?" Superboy asks, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. "Didn't get your bell rung or anything, did you?" 

Tim decides to just accept the gift the universe has given him and go for broke here. 

"This is really forward of me, to be honest, but that's me," he says, gesturing meaningfully at Superboy's soulmark. Superboy blinks. Tilts his head. Tim assumes he doesn't believe him, because why the hell would he believe a random stranger just saying that to him in the middle of what is technically a crime scene and completely out of nowhere, and resigns himself to having to flash his own mark on a public street with a bunch of way too interested people around. It's unfortunate and not remotely to plan, but there's no way he'll get Superboy actually alone this easy, so . . . 

"What, seriously?" Superboy says, looking bemused. 

"Seriously," Tim confirms. 

Superboy blinks again. Tim puts on a carefully sheepish smile and steels himself to–

Superboy jerks forward and grabs him, and the next thing Tim knows they're a couple hundred feet up in the air and zipping off to . . . who the hell knows where, even. Tim was so genuinely not expecting this turn of events that he didn't even register the instinct to hit Superboy with a nerve strike for lunging at him like that. 

Is he being kidnapped? Is that what's happening right now? 

. . . well, it'd be fair, admittedly. 

At least Superboy went with bridal style over, like, a fireman's carry. 

Not that bridal style doesn't have its own attached embarrassments, but still. 

Tim avoids doing anything as stupid as staring at Superboy's very close face and pretends to be interested in the view. It is a nice one, so it's not hard. Kinda makes him wish he had his camera on him, to be honest. Superboy doesn't say anything, so he doesn't either. He doesn't know how well they could hear each other with the wind in their ears anyway; according to those files from Cadmus, Superboy's not due to develop super-hearing for at least another year or two, and Tim definitely doesn't have it either, so it's probably just better to wait for the moment to avoid having to yell. 

Superboy carts him halfway across town and then lands them on a totally random-seeming rooftop that Tim assumes he has some reason to have chosen, though hell if he can tell what it was. The sight lines are all terrible and there are literally no defensible positions, and there's not even a single decent hiding place or useful perch. 

The local architecture is definitely nothing like Gotham's. 

"Uh," Superboy says as he lets Tim down on the roof, taking a step back from him and suddenly looking embarrassed as he pushes those ridiculous douchey shades of his up into his hair. "I maybe could've thought that one through a little better." 

"Well, I'm assuming you want to see my mark too, and this is better than me flashing it in front of the local press," Tim says, trying not to smile too wryly at the guy. 

Superboy blushes. 

Welp, there's another strike against platonic. 

"Um, yeah, I–" Superboy starts awkwardly, still blushing, and Tim decides to put them both out of their misery by lifting his shirt and tugging down his waistband just enough to reveal his share of their soulmark. Superboy visibly forgets what he was saying and just stares at it. 

"Honestly, I'm pretty relieved," Tim says as he directs Smiling Normal Civilian Face #4 at Superboy and tries not to get flustered by said staring. "I was absolutely expecting to have to deal with a literal baby in my future and I just don't need a soulmate who's gonna think Vena Cava is old news." 

Superboy flicks his eyes back up to Tim's face and sort of . . . grins, kind of, and looks unexpectedly . . . happy, almost? Tim thinks? 

Huh. 

Weird. 

"Uh, I . . ." Superboy starts, then just trails off like he's lost for words or maybe just not quite sure what to say. 

"Do you want to touch it?" Tim offers, because that's normal social behavior with a first recognition of matching soulmarks, and only realizes why maybe that wasn't the best suggestion when Superboy blushes even darker. Which–well, Tim might be blushing a little too, now. 

They really did get a pretty suggestive placement for their mark. 

"Uh–sure?" Superboy says, then somehow turns even redder and sputters: "I mean yeah! Yes. Definitely." 

Okay, Tim probably isn't straight. And this mark probably isn't platonic. 

That is . . . a lot to deal with right now, so he just buries it under Smiling Normal Civilian Face #4 and tries not to blush any harder himself as Superboy strips off his gloves and shoves them into his jacket pockets and then sort of–pauses, seeming a little uncertain, which is very weird to see on him. Superboy is the opposite of uncertain–to a fault, is he the opposite of uncertain. 

Then again, this is literally the second time they've met and most of what Tim knows about him came from either a Cadmus file or tabloid news and teen zine interviews, so maybe he's been making some assumptions here. 

"Together?" he suggests, holding up his own hands. Superboy nods immediately, his face still flushed almost as red as their mark. 

"Together," he agrees, and they both reach out at the same time. Superboy slips his fingers up under Tim's shirt and Tim slips his own between the torn edges of Superboy's suit, and they both just . . . touch. 

Tim's surprised, a little, by how soft and near-reverent Superboy is about it, and puts another strike against platonic. Then he immediately gets distracted, because touching your soulmate's mark is apparently very distracting. His fingers feel warm; his body feels warm. And Superboy feels . . . 

The empathy bond that Tim had always assumed to be exaggerated or romanticized settles in soft and warm and with a sense of rightness, and Tim feels a sort of nervous excitement and hesitant hope and an entirely unanticipated shyness and sweetness and softness where he was really expecting to get more like . . . brash and cocky reckless energy and just . . . very different things, really. This is really just not what he expected to get from Superboy, of all people. 

Not even a little bit, is this what he expected. 

And Superboy . . . Superboy looks flushed and flustered and fascinated, and Tim has the thought that if they, like . . . hugged or something like this, then their marks would touch each other, and then they'd be sharing the empathy bond through them directly, and . . . 

Yeah, okay. That's . . . a thought, definitely. 

Fuck. 

. . . although if either of them were, like . . . turned on or hard or anything, then they'd–never mind. 

Any potential platonic-ness of this mark is really, really losing ground here. 

Tim really does not know how he worked with Superboy last time without tripping over himself, at this point, but to be fair at the time he hadn't known what the guy would look like with his costume all ripped up and their shared soulmark exposed for the whole damn world to see. 

Tim is definitely, definitely kidnapping this guy. If it takes six months or six years, he's kidnapping him. He absolutely refuses to leave that soft little curl of shy hope and unexpected sweetness in this goddamn bullshit situation. He is kidnapping him and getting him legally recognized as a person and out of the stupid predatory contract with his manager and out from under Cadmus's supervision, and he is burning down literally anyone who tries to stop him at literally any point during the whole process. 

He will burn down fucking Superman if he has to. And also the US government and all of Cadmus and–

Just–anyone. Literally anyone it takes. 

"What's your name?" Superboy blurts, and Tim cannot believe he didn't even fucking introduce himself before asking the guy to touch his soulmark. What kind of fucking idiot is he, exactly? 

"Tim," he says quickly. "Um–Tim Drake. I'm from Gotham. Just, you know, visiting." 

"Hi, Tim," Superboy says, and gives him a soft little smile that all those lame teen magazine posters don't even deserve. Tim's heart does a rapid series of Dick-Grayson-level acrobatics in his chest. God, he hopes Superboy doesn't have super-hearing yet. He doesn't, right? God. 

Just–god. So, so many gods. 

"Hi," Tim echoes, feeling ridiculous. He clears his throat, then reclaims his hands from Superboy's soulmark. Superboy bites his lip, then does the same and takes a step back. 

Tim wants to throw himself off this roof, but unfortunately the lack of grapple is going to interfere with that theoretical escape attempt. Crap. 

Superboy's hands are still bare. 

So is his soulmark. 

"You did good with that guy who wrecked the street," Tim says, putting on Smiling Normal Civilian Face #2, which is a little more reserved than #4. Superboy turns red again. 

"Technically I also wrecked the street," he says, looking embarrassed. 

"It was already a wreck when you got there," Tim snorts. Property doesn't mean shit next to people. "And this way nobody died or got hurt too bad." 

"You helped with that part," Superboy says, still red-faced. "Made it a lot easier to keep everybody safe with somebody who was thinking straight about getting them all out of the way, like I said. It's hard to, uh–concentrate on that many at once, you know?" 

"Keeping track of where all the civilians are has to be a pain in a fight," Tim agrees, though he tries to make it sound more like he's following Superboy's logic than already fully aware of the vitality of situational awareness from his own vigilante gig. Superboy blinks, cocking his head. 

"Oh–no, that part's easy," he says. "I can feel everybody. It's just, uh . . . actively spreading the force field out that much? I gotta concentrate a lot harder. So it's just way easier when nobody's in the line of fire." 

Tim . . . pauses. Tilts his head. He is, technically, aware of how Superboy's tactile telekinesis works, but that sounded like . . . 

"Sorry," he says. "You had everybody there in your TTK field?" 

"Mostly," Superboy says. "Like I said, it's hard to concentrate on that many people, especially if they're running around all freaked out." 

"Why would you split your focus like that?" Tim asks, a little mystified. Though he guesses this explains how Superboy noticed what he was doing without ever actually looking at him, come to think. "Doesn't it weaken your powers?" 

"Well, yeah, but that dude was blowing up the whole street, man," Superboy says, making a face. "Somebody could've gotten shrapneled or something." 

It occurs to Tim, slowly, that the amount of injured civilians really wasn't as high as it should've been, and in fact most of the injuries he did see had almost definitely been caused in the initial attack. So that means . . . 

Oh. 

. . . huh. 

"Huh," he says. "I didn't realize that was something you could do.” 

"I try not to advertise that one," Superboy says sheepishly. "So, uh, bad guys won't start going after civilians harder when I'm fighting 'em. Or pick crowded areas to pick fights in." 

"I was under the impression that you advertised most of what your powers can do," Tim says wryly, though again, he did get that impression from stolen files and cheap magazines. 

"Well, yeah," Superboy says with an awkward shrug. "Otherwise people don't think I'm doing anything. Like, that I'm just punching stuff or whatever. Uh, so–how long are you in town for, then?" 

"Just for the day," Tim says while making further mental re-evaluations of his soulmate. And it's an admittedly terrible cover, but–"I'm flying back to Gotham on a redeye. I just dropped in to get some time to myself, but I've got school on Monday and a paper to write for it. You know how it is." 

"Not so much, man, I don't do that," Superboy says, and Tim . . . pauses, again. 

"You don't . . . what, go to school?" he asks. 

"Naw," Superboy says, shaking his head. "On account of supervillains attack it when I do.” 

"So you're home-schooled?" Tim assumes, trying not to cringe at the idea of Rex Leech teaching Superboy math or economics or anything even vaguely in that wheelhouse. That could not possibly end well. 

"Naw," Superboy repeats with another shrug. "Got superhero shit to do. And also, like, brand deals to do. Not really my thing anyway." 

. . . Tim is reminded, again, that Superboy is not in fact legally a person and is therefore not in any way protected by labor laws, and Rex Leech and every single dodgy opportunist he's been selling Superboy's likeness to probably knows that. Not even the laws intended for civilians or metahumans or minors or animals would apply, in fact. 

Fuck. 

The next six months of this kidnapping plot are going to be an agonizing wait, Tim's already realizing. 

Fuuuuuck. 

"Oh, I see," he observes non-committally, trying to figure out if he can move up that six-month timeline somehow. There's got to be some corner he can cut or something he can cheat, if he just–

"Do you wanna hang out for a little while before you leave the island?" Superboy asks hopefully. Tim stares blankly at him for a moment. What kind of question is that? Most people would be upset to find out they'd only have a little while to hang out with a newly-discovered soulmate, but Superboy's asking like he expects him to want to just . . . what, swap cell phone numbers and then go on about their original plans for the day? 

First of all: no. Second of all, Superboy doesn't know it, but this is Tim’s plan for the day, so still no. 

"That sounds cool, yeah," Tim says, applying Smiling Normal Civilian Face #5, which is a little softer. Superboy brightens, inexplicably turning red again. Tim has the even more inexplicable urge to pat his head about it. 

This is definitely not a platonic soulmark, no. 

Okay, so Tim's . . . gay, he guesses? Bi? Pan? Just–some sexual orientation that includes telekinetic alien hybrids that are at least male-presenting, anyway. That or Superboy is a trans girl and just not out yet, which he supposes is an equally logical option. 

. . . probably Tim being at least a little bit gay is likelier, though, because Superboy really is a look in that torn-up skin-tight costume he's (she’s?) barely wearing right now. Though Tim could also be bi and Superboy could be trans; it's not like either of those possibilities precludes the other. Actually, that combination would probably work out pretty well, right? In theory? 

At least, he assumes it would. Tim has admittedly not looked into that kind of thing too much, what with assuming it wasn't ever going to be directly relevant to his life. He infiltrated a GSA-style support group for a month and a half once for Robin-business and that's all he's really got to go on. His cover had been "kid with a newly-out older brother who was seeking basic information", just to minimize any potential concern about him dropping off the face of the earth after the necessary recon in the center was done, so he hadn't had to know anything even then, really. 

Apparently he should've been paying less attention to the layout and staff and more to the actual conversations. 

Go figure. 

"We could go grab some lunch," Superboy suggests, leaning towards him a bit. "I know all the best local places. Like, the not-touristy shit, I mean. Or maybe hit the beach?" 

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but I didn't pack a swimsuit," Tim admits. The possibility of the slutty beach day plan would've required a very different cut of swimsuit than his usual trunks, so he'd just figured he'd just buy a new one if he needed it. 

"I could lend you one," Superboy offers. He’s a little bigger and broader than Tim is, so Tim’s sure they don’t wear the same size, though he supposes if he had a pair of trunks with a drawstring waistband, or at least an elastic one . . . 

"Do you have a spare?" Tim asks, mildly dreading the thought. He's a Gothamite. They're not bred for the beach. And also, that would entail wearing Superboy’s clothes. 

Why didn’t he just say yes to lunch? Why is he stupid? 

"It's Hawaii, dude," Superboy says with a laugh, flashing him a wide grin. "Half my closet is swimsuits. Actually pretty sure I have more swimsuits than T-shirts, come to think.” 

Tim isn't sure if that means Superboy likes the beach that much–which would admittedly make sense for a Kryptonian hybrid, given the ridiculous amount of yellow sun that's out there free for the taking–or if that means that Superboy just literally never wears civilian clothes. He must sometimes, right? In theory? 

. . . Tim hates Rex Leech, he's pretty sure. Like. Really, really hates him. And also Cadmus. And Superman is on thin fucking ice, at this point. 

Very thin ice. 

He could get out the kryptonite ring again, if he had to. Like, that's an option that happens to be available to him. Just in case. 

"We could do the beach," he says as he reverts to Smiling Normal Civilian Face #5, because he’s an idiot, apparently. "Since it is Hawaii and all." 

"Cool," Superboy says, grinning wider for a moment before seeming to remember himself and straightening back up from leaning in so close. "Uh–cool, yeah! C'mon, I'll give you a lift." 

Tim, again, doesn't even have time to register the instinct to hit Superboy with a nerve strike before he's in the guy's arms and they're taking off into the air again. Does Superboy have super-speed? Tim was pretty sure he didn't. Like, at least not yet, anyway. Maybe all that constant island sun is paying off early. 

Hm. Note to self: look into that. He should really know if his soulmate has super-speed or not. 

Superboy doesn't actually tell Tim where they're going, but Tim assumes "his place" is a safe enough bet. Which is . . . a whole thing, actually, since it includes a marked risk of running into Rex Leech, who Tim absolutely cannot threaten this time. Which is really unfortunate, frankly. 

Then again, maybe if he can get the slime alone while Superboy is digging out that swimsuit for him, he can say something with some plausible deniability to it and Smiling Gotham Civilian Face (Nighttime Edition), which Tim has on good authority terrifies just about every other possible flavor of Normal Civilian. At least in the States, anyway. 

He'll have enough mercy not to use the Crime Alley version on the guy. 

Maybe. 

The flight isn't long, but the view is still nice, so Tim wouldn't have minded either way. Superboy sneaks a few glances at him from behind his sunglasses and Tim politely pretends not to notice so he doesn't have to deal with the weird fluttery feeling it puts in his stomach every time he does. It's not like Superboy can't feel him perfectly well with his tactile telekinesis right now, and also just his normal sense of touch; there's no real reason to keep sneaking peeks at him unless–

. . . wait. How well can Superboy feel him with his tactile telekinesis right now? Like . . . exactly how well? 

Oh god, Tim thinks, and desperately pretends that his only concern in regards to the answer to that question is if Superboy might notice he has more muscle and scars than a normal civilian should, whether they're from Gotham or not. 

Actually, if he can potentially feel something as subtle as scars–

Oh god, Tim thinks again, and then very quickly stops thinking altogether in self-defense. 

The flight to Superboy’s presumable place isn’t too long, like he said, so Tim manages to keep his brain from running off in too many buck-wild directions, and they’re landing in front of a big but slightly shoddy-looking plain wooden house before he’s catastrophized too badly. Or like . . . maybe not too badly. In theory. Probably. 

Superboy lands in front of the porch and the little group of people who appear to have been talking on and around it, and doesn’t even let Tim down before he’s excitedly blurting, “Everybody, this is Tim, he’s my soulmate! Tim, this is, uh . . . everybody.” 

Tim’s done his research at this point, so he recognizes Rex Leech sitting in a chair on the porch, Dubbilex sitting in another with a ratty-looking little white dog in his lap, Tana Moon standing by the steps, and Roxy Leech sitting on them. He doesn’t know the dog’s name or whose it is, but the rest of them he’s researched, for obvious reasons. They all look startled, then bewildered. 

Tim feels a little awkward about the whole situation, considering Superboy still hasn’t let him down from the bridal carry, but ignores it in favor of Smiling Civilian Face #4 and a polite little wave. 

“Nice to meet you, everybody,” he says. 

They all stare at him blankly for an awkwardly long moment, at which point Superboy finally seems to realize he should put him down, and then Roxy Leech lights up and jumps to her feet to run over. 

“Oh my god, SB, that’s amazin’!” she says brightly. Tim immediately clocks her as full of shit, but more in the sense of “trying to be happy for someone when not remotely happy herself” than “just being a fake asshole”. “Hi, Tim! I’m Roxy!” 

“Hi, Roxy,” Tim says, offering her a handshake to go with Smiling Civilian Face #4. She throws her arms around him and hugs him instead. Again, he’s too baffled to register the nerve-strike instinct. “Um . . . hi?” 

Dubbilex gets up and comes over with the ratty little dog in his arms and stares intently at Tim, who does his Bat-training best to think nothing but normal civilian thoughts. The dog sniffs him curiously and then jumps out of Dubbilex’s arms and straight for him. Tim barely catches it in time, which means now he’s got a dog and Roxy attached to him. Which . . . okay, sure. This might as well happen. 

Oh god, the dog’s licking him now. Why is the dog licking him now? 

“Krypto seems to approve of you,” Dubbilex observes. Tim continues to think very normal civilian thoughts, and Dubbilex tilts his head, looking . . . thoughtful. 

. . . Tim hopes these are normal civilian thoughts. 

“He’s cute,” he lies with Smiling Civilian Face #2, taking a blind guess on canine gender. The dog–Krypto, apparently–looks like a wriggly wet rag, actually, but that’s not the dog’s fault. Well, aside from the wriggling. Dubbilex still looks thoughtful. 

“Don’t lick him, you little shit,” Superboy says, eyeing Krypto dubiously. 

“Aw, you don’t think your soulmate’s lickable, SB?” Roxy asks with a sly grin, and Superboy turns bright red. 

“Don’t you lick him either,” he threatens, grabbing her off Tim and floating up into the air a few feet with her in his arms. She cackles delightedly and throws her arms around his neck. Tim wonders if she’s his girlfriend. It’d track with her being anxious about him finding his soulmate, but recon on Superboy’s interpersonal relationships was . . . unclear. 

Meaning, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out if the guy was platonic about a single woman or girl in his life, so who fucking knows. 

Tim really doesn’t know what that means for their mark, considering. 

He pats Krypto’s head, for lack of a better idea, and gets slobbered on again for it. Dubbilex still looks thoughtful. Rex and Tana come over a bit more grudgingly than he and Roxy did, Rex looking leery and Tana just barely frowning. Tim pretends to be an oblivious moron and ignores both their suspicious expressions to keep up Smiling Civilian Face #4. He is a perfectly normal civilian with a perfectly normal smile and perfectly normal thoughts, and that is all. Really. 

( and he’s going to get Superboy away from this fucking BULLSHIT living situation and into literally ANYTHING better, and away from Rex Leech and Cadmus and every single shitty person who’s trying to take advantage of him, and into legal recognition as an actual fucking PERSON while he’s at it, no matter which politicians he has to Bat-blackmail into passing some goddamn LEGISLATION already! )

Dubbilex tilts his head. Tim doesn’t panic, because he’s a perfectly normal civilian having perfectly normal civilian thoughts. There’s absolutely nothing in his head that Dubbilex would hear and think was weird. Nothing. Normal thoughts. All of them. Normal. 

. . . Tim needs to work on his normal civilian thoughts, maybe. Like, just a little. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Tim,” Dubbilex says, tone mostly neutral but still polite. “My name is Dubbilex.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Dubbilex,” Tim says like someone who definitely didn't already know that. He puts on Smiling Civilian Face #11: “Meet the Parents” Edition. It is . . . not actually one he's really had to use before. Like, not even with Ariana or–and actually also it’s probably not the right face to be using either, really, but Dubbilex is the closest thing to a not-an-asshole adult in Superboy’s life and he doesn’t want to be an asshole to him. 

Unless he turns out to be one after all, in which case all bets are off. But only then, obviously. 

“You sure this guy’s your soulmate, Kid? Not just some weirdo fan trying to take advantage or something?” Rex Leech asks suspiciously as he finally comes over, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes at Tim skeptically. Tim finds that a deeply ironic statement. And also a deeply hypocritical statement. 

Prick. Like Leech hasn’t been taking advantage of Superboy since he first fucking heard of– 

Civilian thoughts. Niiiiice civilian thoughts. Nice and normal and civilian, just like all his thoughts. Normally! 

. . . don’t think about white elephants, Tim tells himself, and immediately winds up with a full stampede of albino pachyderms in his head. 

It’s not non-civilian thoughts, so he’ll take it. 

“Relax, Rex, he showed me his mark,” Superboy says as he lets Roxy back down and lands again, the tips of his ears turning just a little bit pink. Tim considers both the reaction and the fact that he just noticed said reaction, then puts another point in under “not platonic”. It’s . . . getting to be a lot of points, at this point. No pun intended. “It matches. Like, it definitely matches.” 

Superboy doesn’t mention the fact that they’ve already touched each other’s marks to confirm, even though that’s a pretty normal thing to do upon mark-recognition. Tim makes a mental note of that, but doesn’t comment. He assumes there’s a reason for it, or otherwise why wouldn’t he? Not like Leech could argue with that, after all. 

Tana Moon follows Leech over to the group, looking a little wary herself. Tim sizes her up in his peripheral vision, pretending not to notice her approach. He’s “just” found out who his soulmate is, so he can sell the illusion of only paying attention to Superboy right now. It’s not an unusual reaction. 

It’s a pretty typical one, actually. The fact that Superboy decided to immediately show him off to everyone he knows is actually the less usual option, in fact. Not unheard of either, of course, but still. A lot of newly-discovered soulmates tend to just forget about the outside world for a few hours. Or days, even. A few missing person cases that Tim’s been involved in solving turned out to be cases of “I met my soulmate and we just eloped/ran away/went on a road trip/holed up in a hotel room without telling anyone”. 

Tim had thought it was ridiculous at the time, if obviously preferable to ending up with either a dead body or a traumatized victim, but Tim is currently in the process of planning an ethically-necessary kidnapping less than twenty-four hours after first cracking into Superboy’s file and not that much longer after first meeting him, so he supposes soulmates just bring out most people’s less pragmatic sides. 

Though he personally thinks carefully-planned ethical kidnappings are an improvement on spontaneous weekends in Vegas, pragmatically-speaking. But whatever. 

“He showed you?” Tana Moon says, glancing Tim over suspiciously. Superboy’s face reddens this time and he tugs at the slash in his own suit. 

“He, uh, saw mine first,” he says. “Kinda got into it with a dude downtown and Tim here was in the area, and like, he recognized it, obviously.” 

“It’s fairly noticeable as a mark,” Tim supplies helpfully, figuring he should be being supportive of his soulmate here, and also be shutting Rex Leech up as efficiently as possible. “And Superboy came over to check on me after the fight, so it was hard to miss.” 

“Sure it was,” Leech says, his face souring. “So then you won’t mind showin’ yours to–” 

“Shut up, Dad!” Roxy hisses, kicking him viciously hard in the ankle. Leech yelps in pain. Roxy is immediately his favorite, Tim decides. By far Roxy is his favorite. The dog’s kind of cute and Dubbilex seems decent, but definitely Roxy is his favorite. 

Her dad definitely fucking sucks, though. 

And as for Tana Moon . . . 

“You’re a tourist?” Tana says, just barely frowning down at Tim. She’s taller than him. She’s also taller than Superboy, because she’s a grown-ass woman and why, exactly, is a reporter even here right now? How is that necessary or reasonable? 

. . . admittedly she’s also taller than Leech and he’s a middle-aged man, but that’s not the point here. If Tim has to “no comment” this situation and figure out how to get either his parents or Bruce to kill a story, he absolutely will. He isn’t even slightly gonna hesitate there. He is gonna the opposite of hesitate, in fact. 

“Yes,” he lies, which might not endear him to Moon, given she’s a native, but is better than confessing to having premeditated designs on kidnapping a teen idol superhero. Especially to a reporter. 

Even if it is legally salvage. 

“I’m just in town for the day,” he continues. “I needed to get away for a little while, you know how it is.” 

“Sure,” Moon says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Who doesn’t.” 

“He’s from Gotham. And he helped the civilians get out of the area while I was fighting that guy downtown!” Superboy says eagerly, which is . . . odd, actually, and throws Tim off a bit. That seems like a weird thing for Superboy to be eager about, considering. Like . . . just very weird. 

“Well, that’s a Gotham thing, probably,” Tim says, putting on a sheepish Civilian Smile (#7). “We’re used to rogue attacks with area of effect concerns involved, so we get pretty good at clearing a street.” 

“You did awesome, man!” Superboy says, grinning excitedly at him. That is . . . still weird, yeah. Tim really doesn’t get it. 

Well, maybe Superboy’s just relieved to have a soulmate who knows how to stay out of the line of fire and what to do in a crisis, given how often crisises probably come up in his life. That would make sense, considering. 

“It was nothing, just a little light crowd control,” Tim tries, assuming that’s what a normal civilian would say. Probably, right? Almost definitely. “Nobody even needed any urgent medical attention. And you used your TTK really strategically and contained the guy too, that was much more impressive to pull off in a mess like that.” 

Yeah, that was normal civilian talk, he thinks, pleased with himself for managing it. 

Superboy turns pink, then grins again. Dubbilex . . . tilts his head. 

Normal. Normal. Normal civilian. That’s what Tim is. A civilian! Who’s normal! Very, very normal! 

Normal. 

He smiles Normal Civilian Smile #4 and pats Krypto’s head again. Krypto makes an enthusiastic attempt at licking his fingers off. 

Ew. 

“‘Light crowd control’,” Moon echoes. That’s what Tim said, yeah, so he’s not sure why she’s repeating it. Well–reporter, again, so it’s probably a trap. 

It’s almost definitely a trap, actually. 

Really definitely it’s a trap. 

“Sorry to just show up like this, hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says to Roxy and Dubbilex with a smile, politely pretending not to be ignoring Moon. He is definitely ignoring Moon, though. Again: reporter. She may not be a Lois Lane or even a Vicki Vale, but he’s still not giving her any information he can avoid giving her. And he’ll just ignore Leech while he’s at it, too. 

“I invited you, dude!” Superboy says with a laugh, shaking his head. “We’re gonna hit the beach for a while, go hang out. Just swung by to grab Tim a swimsuit I can lend him.” 

“You came to Hawaii to ‘get away’ and didn’t pack a swimsuit?” Moon says skeptically. 

“Yup,” Tim replies with the most placidly innocent expression he’s ever worn in his life. Nothing. He is giving her nothing. Let all her reporter instincts strike against mirrored glass and high-security privacy windows and come to naught. 

Moon stares at him in silence, clearly waiting for him to fill it. Tim doesn’t fall for the incredibly obvious bait and just keeps the placidly innocent expression on. 

She frowns. 

“C’mon, man,” Superboy says cheerfully, apparently–and fortunately–oblivious to their stand-off. He grabs Tim’s arm and drags him towards the front porch. Tim seriously doubts its structural stability, from the look of it, but tactile telekinesis is hard to argue with. 

The steps manage not to collapse–possibly also because of tactile telekinesis, Tim can’t help suspecting–and Superboy pulls him straight into the house, which is . . . not particularly well taken care of, no surprise. The furniture looks like it all came from a thrift store, and not a nice thrift store. 

Admittedly Tim’s upbringing might be showing here, but also the corners need swept and there’s random boxes of assorted Superboy merch everywhere, most of which looks like cheap junk, and a huge stack of mail and four empty pizza boxes on the coffee table and overflowing trash cans with random junk scattered around, and it’s just . . . it doesn’t look taken care of, no. Which is something Tim would expect from a teenager or two, and maybe Dubbilex doesn’t know how chore wheels work or whatever, but fucking Rex Leech should at least be capable of getting out the broom once a week. 

Assuming there is one, anyway. Tim isn’t particularly optimistic on that one, honestly. 

Superboy’s room is even messier than the living room, covered in dirty clothes and abandoned comics and crumpled-up papers, but Tim’s bedroom looks like a bomb went off in it so he’s not gonna judge. Anyway, that’s Superboy’s personal space, not a common area. He can keep it however he likes, Tim figures. 

Somebody should really sweep that living room, though. And throw out those old pizza boxes, too. 

Tim isn’t judging, just–well, no, he is very much judging, actually. Specifically what he’s judging is Rex Leech, noted asshole sleazeball manager with predatory business tactics. 

Fuck that guy, seriously. 

“You want trunks or a speedo?” Superboy asks as he lets go of his arm to fly over to the cluttered dresser. Tim turns seventeen different shades of red and nearly disassociates. 

“Trunks,” he says quickly. “Please.” 

“Gotcha, man,” Superboy says easily, and then all the dresser drawers yank out at once and dump out crumpled piles of . . . mostly swimsuits and super-suits, it looks like, yeah. Like, basically nothing else but swimsuits and super-suits and a couple of cheesy-looking Hawaiian shirts. 

Well, that might be one lonely, lonely pair of cutoffs sticking out from underneath the swimsuits. But otherwise, that’s pretty much it, yeah. 

Fuck, that’s depressing, Tim thinks. 

Superboy comes back over with an armful of swimsuits, just about all of which have the S-shield either printed or stitched on them. Tim wonders why the guy even has this many swimsuits, especially considering he barely has any other clothes at all. At least not as far as he can see, anyway. 

He also wonders if he’s gonna die if he wears Superboy’s clothes. Is that a thing that might happen? Because it really might happen, yeah. 

Also wearing something with an S-shield on it feels like just a little too much to handle right now, so Tim’s hoping for a basic black option to be buried somewhere in that pile. Given Superboy’s apparent fashion sense, it seems unlikely, but hope springs eternal. 

“Take a look, see what’s good,” Superboy says, dumping the entire armful of swimsuits on Tim. Tim’s just grateful he remembered to stick to just the trunks, at this point. 

“So you spend a lot of time on the beach, huh?” he says wryly. 

“C’mon, man, it’s Hawaii,” Superboy says with a sheepish grin. “And I mean, I look good in anything but wet leather is just not a comfortable fit, you know?” 

“I guess it wouldn’t be, no,” Tim says, giving him Civilian Smile #4 again. Superboy’s ears redden a little again, and then he leans back and zips back across the room to shove all his drawers back shut. Tim lays out the pile of swimsuits on the bed, since it’s right there anyway, and then immediately feels embarrassed to be this close to Superboy’s bed. Which is stupid, even if they aren’t platonics. They’ve just met; it’s not like anything’s gonna happen. 

. . . even if Superboy is a notorious flirt and totally shameless and–

Tim is just not gonna pursue that line of thought right now, he decides. Just for his own sanity and all. 

He accidentally knocks some paper off the bed as he’s laying out the suits to get a look at them, and reflexively leans down to pick it up. The room’s a mess, yeah, but it’s Superboy’s mess. It’s still rude to just drop shit wherever. 

The paper isn’t as crumpled as some of the others, and Tim sees a glimpse of color as he picks it up. His inner detective reflexively wonders what it is, and . . . 

Tim uncrumples the paper a little, and blinks down at it in surprise. It’s a little kid’s drawing, it looks like. A sunny beach rendered in bright colored pencil and simple, awkward shapes all painstakingly but clumsily colored in and–

Superboy’s suddenly right back next to him snatching the paper from him and immediately hiding it behind his back, looking absolutely mortified. Tim’s confused, for a moment. What’s he embarrassed about? It’s obviously not anything he’d have drawn himself. It’s probably just something a fan or a neighbor’s kid gave him, or . . . 

Tim pauses. Then he recontextualizes just how much crumpled-up paper is lying around Superboy’s room and wonders, very briefly, if a bunch of STEM majors with delusions of grandeur would’ve bothered programming their custom-designed “Superman” with anything resembling art skills. 

So . . . maybe that is something Superboy drew himself. If Cadmus didn’t program him with the muscle memory or knowledge of how to draw . . . well, then he probably would draw like a little kid, wouldn’t he. 

And given Superboy’s cocky, braggart personality and defensive ego and how all that paper is all crumpled up as if in frustration . . . 

“Gift from a fan?” Tim “assumes” with Smiling Civilian Face #4, pretending to be oblivious. 

“Uh–yeah!” Superboy blurts quickly as he jumps on the provided excuse, though he keeps the paper behind his back. “Yeah, just–you know, just some kid gave it to me at a signing, whatever. Uh, bathroom’s through there, if you wanna get changed. Or like, whatever.” 

“Thanks,” Tim says, and resists the itching urge to peek at a few more of those crumpled-up papers. It’s just a lot of paper, especially if Superboy’s upset with the results. 

He wonders why the guy draws so much, if he’s that frustrated and embarrassed by it. Maybe it’s a rebellion thing, since it’s something Cadmus didn’t want him to know how to do. Tim would definitely understand that logic, if he were in Superboy’s situation. Or maybe he’s just bothered not to know how and trying to teach himself to make up for the perceived failing. 

Or maybe he just likes it, Tim supposes. That’s an option too. 

Probably a less likely one, though, given that it’s Superboy. Not to be an asshole or anything, just it’s a lot easier picturing the guy assuming he should be able to do something and getting fixated on trying to pull it off than just, like . . . liking to draw. Also, judging by all that balled-up paper, it doesn’t seem like there’s all that much there for him to “like”, either. 

Tim takes the plainest set of trunks with a drawstring waist, which are black and dark blue but still have an S-shield iron-on patch sewn onto their waistband, for whatever reason, and ducks into the bathroom with them. He realizes belatedly that said S-shield is probably going to rest right up against his soulmark, then feels like an idiot for feeling flustered by that idea and just sets his bag against the wall and starts getting undressed. 

He’s definitely wearing one of the spare shirts in his go-bag for this, he decides as he stuffs his clothes into his bag. Just–definitely, yeah. 

The trunks fit once he cinches the drawstring enough, but the S-shield definitely does rest right against his soulmark. Tim has never actually considered the sight of the S-shield to be, like . . . relevant or interesting outside of work, but he’s realizing that he sure does feel differently about it now that he knows his soulmate’s one of the people wearing it. 

Which is a little ironic, really, considering Superboy wears the S-shield as a branding thing or whatever and lets Leech slap it on whatever cheap shitty merch he can think of. Like, he’s probably the least respectful S-wearer there is.

Tim pulls on a plain clean T-shirt and a short-sleeve button-down to go over it, figuring that’s beach-friendly enough. He should’ve packed sunglasses, probably, but he was a little distracted by his kidnapping plans and didn’t think to. 

Seriously. He didn’t think to bring sunglasses to Hawaii. 

This whole situation definitely has him off his game, yeah. 

Soulmate thing, he guesses. 

Tim eyes himself in the bathroom mirror, mentally decides he’s being an idiot to worry about how he looks right now, and then grabs his bag and heads back out into the bedroom. Superboy’s changed into low-waisted S-shield-themed trunks of his own and flip-flops and nothing else, which does in fact give Tim an embarrassingly good and embarrassingly distracting view of their soulmark. It’s not quite distracting enough for him to miss the fact that the amount of crumpled papers strewn around the room has noticeably decreased, though. And there’s definitely more of them sticking out from under the bed and dresser and in the back of the closet than there previously were. 

Which is kinda cute, honestly, but Tim should probably not say that. Like, ever. 

“Thanks for waiting,” he says, smiling Normal Civilian Smile #4 at Superboy as he hitches his bag up a little higher on his shoulder. “And for the loan.” 

Superboy stares blankly at him for half a second, then seems to startle a little and puffs himself up. 

“Uh–sure, yeah!” he says quickly. “No problem, man. Anytime.” 

“‘Anytime’ seems pretty open, as an offer,” Tim jokes, because normal civilians make that kind of joke, and Superboy turns red. 

“Oh, uh–you know what I mean!” he sputters awkwardly, holding his hands up, which seems kind of a lot as a reaction, and then somehow manages to nearly knock over his dresser without even touching it. Well–that'd be the TTK, Tim guesses. 

It wasn't even that much of a joke. Like, lame suburban dad joke territory, that's all. 

“I do, yeah,” he says with a wry smile. Superboy finds a way to turn even redder and shoves his dresser back into a corner. That also seems like kind of a lot as a reaction, but Tim doesn't comment. Just seems, well . . . awkward? Unnecessary? “Are we good to go, then?” 

“Um, yeah, yeah,” Superboy says, clearing his throat and then zipping out into the hall. Tim wonders if he always flies indoors this much. “All good, dude! Let's head out.” 

“Sure,” Tim says, keeping the smile on. Superboy is still red, but floats along down the hall. Tim follows. Okay. They’re almost definitely not platonic, but Superboy clearly isn’t any more sure what to do with that than Tim is, so . . . small favors, he guesses. Like–that they’re at least roughly on the same page there, he means. 

Unless he’s just reading into things because of weird personal biases he didn’t even know he had, and Superboy is completely straight and just kind of socially awkward around civilians, and Tim’s just being socially pressured by the background radiation of living in a society that over-values romantic soulmates in comparison to platonic ones and sometimes disavows the value of platonic soulmates altogether. 

He supposes technically they could be familial, rare as that is. It’s not like he really knows how he’d feel about having a brother. Dick’s the closest thing to one he’s ever had, and that’s just . . . not actually the same thing, obviously, even if sometimes he wishes . . . 

Anyway. It doesn’t matter. He’s pretty sure having a brother wouldn’t in any way involve this level of embarrassment and unexpected hormones and just general sexuality-questioning over every little thing. Like, that seems very much not like what having a brother would be like. So–maybe he isn’t straight, or maybe Superboy’s not actually a boy, or maybe both of those things are true, or maybe he’s just really, really bad at having a soulmate. 

Entirely possible, under the circumstances. Tim’s not really all that good at getting close to people. If he got a little confused about how to handle having a soulmate, well . . . that wouldn’t really be a surprise, would it. 

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to have to figure out how to come out to his dad or Dana or the goddamn Batman. 

One or the other, probably. 

. . . statistically speaking, the likelier explanation probably is not wanting to come out to the goddamn Batman. 

“Wanna fly someplace or just chill on the beach out front?” Superboy asks as he floats backwards into the living room. Krypto runs up and jumps on Tim excitedly, his tail wagging so hard his whole little body’s wagging with it. He’s a weird-looking little mutt, but he’s really friendly, apparently. “Krypto, oh my god, get off him.” 

“I don't mind,” Tim says, leaning down to give Krypto a polite little pat on the head. Krypto barks happily and wags his tail so hard he knocks himself over. 

Yeah, weird dog in general, Tim thinks. But again, really friendly. 

“We can go wherever,” he says. “You're the local, you know the best places to get a little time alone to hang out, right?” 

“‘Alone’?” Superboy repeats, his ears reddening again as he somehow manages to trip in mid-air and hits his head on the doorframe. Tim can probably safely write off the idea of “platonic” at this point, but is still a little bit wary of his personal bias interfering. Though . . . “Uh–yeah! Totally! Yeah! We can do that!” 

Yeah, Superboy really isn’t selling the “platonic” idea here either. 

Does Tim have a boyfriend now? Is this how boyfriends happen? 

. . . well, or a girlfriend, maybe. He still hasn’t ruled out the “maybe Superboy’s just trans” option. That seems like a thing that might confuse his sexuality a little, if nothing else. 

This is definitely not anything like any previous girlfriend-getting he’s experienced, though. Like, not even a little bit. He’s not complaining, exactly, because admittedly it’s actually a little bit easier going into a new relationship with a plan and a cover established, even if the plan is still in flux and the relationship’s “romantic” vs “platonic” status is still unclear. It’s still something he can approach like a case, which is much more straightforward than just floundering around trying to figure out how normal people work. 

And Superboy’s about as far from a “normal person” as it gets, so really, this is a pretty ideal set-up on Tim’s end. 

Hopefully Superboy feels similarly, though he also, like . . . is lacking some pretty important information there, so . . . yeah, that might be an issue. Bruce would definitely not have appreciated Robin telling Superboy he was his soulmate, though, and who knows how Superboy would’ve even taken that. Going in as a civilian is going pretty smoothly, though, so Tim’s pretty sure it was the right choice. 

Hopefully it was, anyway. 

“Cool,” Tim says, keeping up the placid harmless civilian face and thoughts and Totally-Not-A-Vigilante vibes. Superboy does a very bad job of pretending he didn’t just bump into the doorframe and ducks back outside, putting on a cocky grin of his own as he does. It occurs to Tim, briefly, that maybe Superboy has his own catalog of performative expressions. None of his friends really seem to, but Superboy is in the community too, so . . . well, it’d make sense, right? 

Also he does sell his likeness via a sleazy manager’s sleazy business deals, so yeah. It does kind of make sense. 

Huh. That’s . . . a thought, he guesses. 

Not a thought he’d really had yet. 

Just . . . something they might have in common, Tim guesses. 

Though so is being in the community to begin with, obviously. And they're physiologically about the same age and have similar coloring, though Superboy is–well, not actually mixed with East Asian, because Krypton did not have an actual place called “Asia”, but he does have subtle hints of that look, same as Superman. Easy to mistake for just being white, but recognizable if you know what you're looking for. Superboy would be at least half-white given Westfield's DNA, Tim guesses, but . . . 

Yeah, no, he doesn't even know how to begin to figure out the nuances of racial identity on a dead planet he knows next to nothing about, much less any potential experience parallels there might be for a second-generation half-alien immigrant with effectively zero access to their own culture, but maybe he could–

Right, okay, he needs to focus here. There's some fascinating stuff there that he can theorize about and investigate later, once he's kidnapped Superboy properly. The kidnapping is the current priority, though. Like, it is very much the current priority. 

Tim follows Superboy back out onto the porch. Everyone else is still out there, which is fine in regards to Roxy and Dubbilex and not fine in regards to Leech and . . . well, jury's out on Moon, maybe. 

Also the dog. He doesn't really know about the dog. Though said dog does run after him and jump up for attention wagging his scruffy little tail hard enough to wag his whole little body, which is sort of cute. 

Or as cute as a wet dishrag can get, anyway. 

Tim’s trying not to judge Krypto for that, since obviously he didn't ask to be born as the living embodiment of a wet dishrag, and anyway he's a really friendly dog, so judging by appearances seems like a dick move. Even if Tim kind of wants to iron him, to be honest. Steam-clean, maybe. 

At least take him to a decent groomer, if nothing else. 

“Down, you little shit, Jesus!” Kon says, scowling down at Krypto and trying to shoo him away. Krypto growls at him, which seems weird, then goes back to fawning all over Tim. Tim leans down and pats his head, figuring it might calm him down. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “He is cute.” 

“Whatever,” Superboy grumbles, folding his arms and inexplicably glowering at his dog. 

“You gonna go swim, or just hang out?” Roxy asks curiously as she comes over to them again. 

“Oh, we’re–” Superboy starts, but Moon cuts him off. 

“Want some company?” Moon inquires, pleasant and suspicious all at once. Superboy looks–conflicted, momentarily, and then awkward. 

“Um, well–Tim’s only in town for today, so . . . next time?” he hedges. Tim resists the urge to eye Moon. Can I just spontaneously insert myself in your first day with your brand-new soulmate? is incredibly rude, as a suggestion. And incredibly fucking disrespectful to boot. Like, what entitled-ass kind of thing is that to ask, exactly? 

How old is she again? Twenty? Twenty-one? He should look that up later. Well–no, she’d graduated college and started her career by the time Superman had died, which was a good eight or nine months ago now, so unless she skipped a grade or two in there, she’s gotta be closer to twenty-four, if not twenty-five or twenty-six. 

That’s . . . a thought, considering there is definitely news footage of Superboy kissing her in Metropolis. Like, Tim very definitely saw news footage of Superboy kissing her in Metropolis. And she was very definitely kissing him too. 

In retrospect, that seems like something someone should’ve, like . . . done something about? Or at least addressed? And is definitely further proof of how fucking useless and slimy Rex Leech is. Sure, let the five-minute-old clone make out with a twentysomething reporter and hang out with her at home; all publicity is good publicity, so it’s fine, right? Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? 

Tim is going to absolutely decimate that bastard’s credit the first chance he gets. Leech probably already has terrible credit, mind, but he’ll make it worse. He’ll find a way. 

. . . though he’ll wait until he’s sure Roxy is eighteen and financially independent, he doesn’t actually know if she is or not. Roxy seems nice, she doesn’t deserve that particular fallout. 

“It’d be nice to get to know each other later, I’m sure,” Tim says before Moon can say anything, smiling Gala Smile #1 at her, which is a targeted psychological attack and not actually very moral to be trotting out this quick, probably. 

He has no regrets, for the record. Absolutely none. 

Moon narrows her eyes suspiciously. Tim blithely strokes Krypto’s ears, Gala Smile #1 flawless and unphased. 

“I’m sure,” she “agrees” frostily. Superboy remains apparently oblivious to the tension and grins brightly at both of them. 

“Cool!” he says. Oh, sweet summer child who has clearly never socialized with sharks, Tim thinks resignedly, petting Krypto again. Has Leech taught him literally nothing about conversational warfare, for fuck’s sake? At least living with your sleaze of a manager should be good for that, dammit! 

Then again, Leech is probably not actually competent enough to teach Superboy anything actually useful, so maybe that’s for the best. 

If nothing else, Superman could’ve taught him a bit of “bless your heart”, but apparently that’s not a thing either. 

Tim has a brief moment of dread that maybe underneath his personal list of performative expressions, Superboy might just be a straightforward and honest person, which is a concerning thought. He doesn’t even know how to talk to a straightforward and honest person at this point, after this long as Batman’s emotional support sidekick. How do you form a lasting relationship with someone who isn’t habitually using at least three layers of double-talk and constantly locked in on all your microexpressions, anyway? 

That’s going to be a weird experience, yeah. 

“Ready to go?” Superboy asks Tim, grinning brighter at him. Tim feels momentarily overwhelmed and just sort of . . . has to collect himself about that, a little. 

Or a lot. 

“Lead the way,” he says, smiling at him. He’s flustered enough to forget to use an appropriately-planned smile, which is embarrassing, but Superboy just grins even brighter–which should not be physically possible, but apparently is–and reaches out to scoop him up into his arms and into the air again as Krypto lets out an offended bark. It’s totally overkill and not even slightly necessary. 

Tim isn’t complaining, just–well–

It’s really flustering. 

“Air Superboy up, up, and away!” Superboy says cheerfully as they float up over the others’ heads. His face is way too close to Tim’s face. 

Tim is gonna need a bit longer to collect himself this time, he’s pretty sure. 

“Do I get an in-flight meal?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Superboy laughs, which is even worse than his grin, and then takes off across the beachfront with him. It’s another bridal carry, which is quietly mortifying but could be worse, probably. Maybe. 

Somehow. 

Superboy flies them straight across the beach and then straight out over the water, skimming them along just above the waves. Tim makes a briefly startled noise, reflexively tightening his grip on the strap of his bag. 

“This isn’t waterproof,” he says just as reflexively, and Superboy laughs again. 

“I’m not gonna drop you, dude,” he says. Tim actually more assumed Superboy was intending to either dive-bomb them both into the water or just dump him in on purpose, because that seems like Superboy’s sense of humor, but maybe that was an unfair assumption. 

He really is not prepared for how it feels to be held in close against Superboy’s bare chest and arms like this, even if he’s still wearing a shirt himself. The idea of possibly doing that while they’re both wet seems a lot worse. 

Yeah. Definitely worse. 

Tim should’ve worn long sleeves. And maybe a wetsuit. And maybe a few layers on top of that. 

Jesus. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he says, barely resisting the urge to loop his arms around Superboy’s neck as the other hangs a right and swoops them back around towards shore. Flying over the water like this is a pretty cool experience, admittedly, now that he’s not worried about Superboy dumping him in the water. 

Well. Less worried, anyway. 

Camera next time, Tim promises himself, glancing back over Superboy’s shoulder towards the shining horizon. The sun reflects off the waves bright and beautiful, and the sky is a smooth and perfect blue dotted with sparse but billowing clouds, and everything smells like salt and sea and leather, which is probably Superboy, even without the jacket on anymore. 

Definitely camera next time. 

“Definitely holding you to that, actually,” he says, and Superboy laughs again and brings them down in the surf just past the tideline with a splash. Neither the splash or the water goes high enough to soak Tim's bag, so he figures it could've been worse. 

Assuming Superboy isn't planning to toss him or anything before he can put his bag down somewhere safe, anyway. 

They both settle down into the surf and onto their feet, and Tim becomes very aware of how close together they’re standing and also how very, very shirtless Superboy is, and in fact the only thing between their soulmarks is the very thin layer of cotton of Tim’s own shirt, and if he leaned in just a little bit . . . 

Jesus, Tim thinks faintly, and forces himself to take a step back before he can make it weird. 

He smiles Generically Pleasant Civilian Smile #2 just to make sure he doesn’t look like a creep or anything, and Superboy grins excitedly at him. Tim allows himself all of two seconds to be overwhelmed by that gorgeous expression and their physical closeness and the reflection of the light in Superboy’s eyes, as bright and perfectly blue as both the sky and water, and then reasserts standard operating procedures and keeps Generically Pleasant Civilian Smile #2 locked in place on his face. 

“The water’s really warm,” he observes, glancing down at it. “Is that normal?” 

It’s probably not an impending supervillain thing, he tells himself. 

Maybe global warming or something, though. 

“I mean, feels normal to me?” Superboy says with a shrug. Tim considers mentioning the average ocean temperature, comparatively speaking, or at least the average temperature of the water off the docks in Gotham. Admittedly, Gotham waters barely count as “water”, legally speaking, but that’s not the point. 

“It’s pretty out here,” he says instead, and Superboy grins at him and leans in. He’s pretty sure it’s more an instinctive thing than a deliberate one, just from the way Superboy does it, but that doesn’t exactly make it less flattering. 

Or flustering. 

“I mean, it’s Hawaii, man!” Superboy says, grinning wider before kicking at the surf. “‘Course it’s gonna be pretty!” 

Actually you specifically are possibly the prettiest damn thing that I have ever seen, Tim thinks, but isn’t stupid enough to actually let out of his mouth. Superboy, unfortunately, continues to be all warm and grinning and lit up by island sun. Tim did not come prepared enough for this. 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I’d be the guy who came to Hawaii and got a monsoon,” he says wryly, and Superboy laughs brightly. 

Tim really did not come prepared enough for this. Like, not at all. Not even slightly. 

“Guess you’d just have to come back, then,” Superboy says, grinning wider again and kicking at the surf again as he floats back up out of it. It’s–weird, a little, looking up at him like this. 

Well, not weird, just . . . yeah. 

Something like that. 

“Guess so,” Tim agrees, feeling embarrassingly flustered. Superboy’s friends can probably still see them from the porch, distant though it is, but part of him is still just considering very weird and dumb and insane ideas like maybe tugging Superboy back down to earth and into the surf and just . . . confirming the little sexuality crisis he’s been having since breaking into the other’s file and seeing their soulmark in it, maybe. 

Just, you know, ruling things out. Making deductions. Going through the process of elimination. 

Kissing him, maybe. 

He could very, very much kiss Superboy right now. They’re on a gorgeous beach in the surf and under the sun and Superboy is floating in front of him and grinning as happy and excited as could be and Tim’s stomach is fluttering in a stupid and also-embarrassing way, and . . . 

He could kiss him. That’s all. 

“I mean, it’s a nice place to visit, right?” Superboy says casually, linking his hands together behind his back. 

“The tourism industry seems to think so,” Tim says, wry again, and wonders what the “normal civilian who didn’t come here specifically looking for his soulmate to kidnap/salvage him to begin with” thing to say is here. He has absolutely no idea, because he actually has absolutely no idea how normal civilians react to superheroes. Robin is . . . not exactly an urban myth, necessarily, but definitely not a publicly-recognized superhero. He’s a vigilante that’s just barely allowed to operate outside the law, and not one with any kind of publicity or celebrity involved. 

Superboy, on the other hand, is not only a superhero, but a professional superhero. He’s selling his likeness and doing events and has signed a stupid predatory contract with a sleaze of a manager that technically shouldn’t even be legal, given Superboy isn’t even considered a legal person by the government. Apparently no one has ever realized that, though, or at least no one’s ever let Superboy realize that. 

Tim really doesn’t love that that’s a thing, to put it mildly. 

Actually, he just fucking hates it. 

Superboy laughs, and looks very, very pretty doing it. Tim continues to wonder what a normal civilian would do here, and for lack of a better idea falls back on small talk. 

God, his best plan right now is small talk. What is his life, even? 

No wonder he’s gonna have to take six months to kidnap Superboy, ugh. 

“So, uh–this seems like a weird question to be bringing up this late in the conversation, but what’s your name?” he asks, because it’s occurred to him that he actually has no idea what Superboy goes by when he’s off-duty. He knows he doesn’t have a secret identity, obviously, but there’s no way his friends just call him “Superboy”. Well–maybe his slimy asshole manager does, but otherwise. “I mean, if that’s okay to ask. Marks or not, I understand if you don’t feel like we’re there yet, given the whole superhero thing and all.” 

Robin knows Superboy doesn’t have a secret identity, after all, but Tim Drake is a normal civilian and shouldn’t act like he knows too much about any superhero in general, so–

“Naw, it’s fine, I don’t even have one,” Superboy says, for some reason just beaming at him, which is . . . weird, Tim thinks, but nowhere near as weird as that answer is. 

“You don’t . . . have one?” he repeats slowly, and Superboy shrugs easily. “Like–not at all?” 

“Yeah, everybody pretty much just calls me 'Kid' or 'SB', when it's not Superboy,” Superboy confirms. “Oh, and Knockout calls me 'Pup' when she's around but like, that's really just a 'her' thing and she’s low-key a supervillain, so yeah. So, you know, you can call me whatever.” 

Tim stares blankly at him for a long, long moment, speed-runs all five stages of grief, and also discovers a couple of new and unexpected ones. 

Alright. Well, he officially regrets literally nothing about this impending kidnapping. 

“Oh, okay,” he says. “Um–sorry, I guess I just assumed you’d have a more . . . civilian-ish name too, I guess?” 

“I’m a clone, man,” Superboy says, looking like he thinks Tim’s said something funny. “The only other name I’ve got is ‘Experiment Thirteen’, which is definitely not something I answer to.” 

Tim discovers a few more stages of grief that hit with all the subtlety of a spiked baseball bat and makes himself nod as much like a normal person as he can. 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d go for that one if I were you either,” he says. “Kind of a mouthful, if nothing else.” 

Superboy laughs, then grins at him again. He is actually doing so, so much of that, Tim’s realizing. Tim was really not prepared for how much of that he’s been doing, in fact. He just did not come prepared for any of that at all. He’s got some nebulous kidnapping plans, but everything else here–from the supervillain attack to Superboy’s ripped suit and exposed soulmark–has been a crime of opportunity. 

He probably should’ve done more research. Actually, he definitely should’ve done more research. He kind of just panicked and bought a ticket and flew right over, and just because Dick didn’t stop him doesn’t mean it was a good idea. He just–he should’ve done more research. Planned more. Not shown up without something concrete. 

Admittedly Superboy doesn’t hate him yet or anything, but this was just . . . yeah, this was not his brightest idea at all. Not even slightly. 

Why didn’t he do more research? 

“You really can just call me whatever you wanna, don’t worry about it,” Superboy says with another one of those too-easy shrugs as he settles back down into the surf, which, unfortunately, puts him back into kissing range and is therefore incredibly distracting. 

Dammit, Tim thinks, trying to beat his stupid teenage hormones into order. Why is he even a teenager at all? It’s so inconvenient. He really needs to live to twenty just so he can stop being one, because god forbid he die at fifteen too and end up, like, a teenage ghost or something. He would just not be okay with that. He feels even worse for Jason thinking about that, actually. 

“Whatever I want?” he repeats, because he’s an idiot with no control over his hormones whatsoever. 

He really needs to make it to twenty. 

“Well, except for Experiment Thirteen. That one sucks,” Superboy says with another grin. Tim politely pretends not to notice the slight tightening of the corners of the other’s mouth as he says it. 

“Uh, okay,” he says, clearing his throat. He guesses Superboy doesn’t really care what his name is, then, but being told to just call him whatever he wants to is . . . well, a weird feeling, maybe. “What do you do when you just want to be a civilian for a while, though?” 

“I don’t,” Superboy says. 

“. . . don’t . . . what?” Tim asks slowly, not sure if he should be dreading the answer or not, but–

“Be a civilian,” Superboy says. 

Tim’s running out of new stages of grief, he’s pretty sure. 

“Ah,” he says. 

Superboy–for a second, Tim thinks he looks self-conscious, but then he’s grinning again before he can be sure, and . . . 

“Why would I, man?” Superboy says, puffing up proudly. “I’m Superboy! Nothing else I’d rather be.” 

Given how limited Superboy’s options for anything “else” he could be probably are . . . well, Tim’s not sure what to think of that statement. He doesn’t think it’s anything good, whatever it is. 

Yeah, he thinks as he looks at Superboy’s too-bright grin and thinks about how he just said "nothing" and not "no one". Definitely not anything good. Whether that was intentional or just an unknowing slip . . . well, who wouldn’t pick being “Superboy” over being “Experiment Thirteen”? 

And what else would Superboy even know how to pick, if he thought those were his only options? 

“Doesn’t that get . . . tiring?” Tim asks carefully. “Being Superboy all the time?” 

Superboy blinks. Tilts his head. 

And so, so obviously doesn’t understand the question. 

Dammit, Tim thinks. 

“Naw, man,” Superboy says confidently, grinning at him. “It’s great!” 

Tim genuinely cannot imagine how it could even be mediocre. They’re very different people, obviously, but–always? Always being the hero persona? Only being the hero persona? 

Not even being able to call it a persona, because it was all you ever were or had been? 

Even normal celebrities dress down sometimes or try to sneak around under the radar. A celebrity superhero . . . how does Superboy even do anything? Ever? It’s not like he lives in a gated community or a wealthy area or around any other famous people or superheroes; he’s an anomaly in both Hawaii in general and in his neighborhood specifically, as far as Tim can tell. Well–as much as he’s in a “neighborhood”, anyway. There seems to be a decent amount of space between houses, which makes Tim wonder exactly how expensive this house was, especially since it’s basically right on the beach, but also it’s not in particularly good condition and– 

God, he really wants a look at the setup of Superboy’s licensing deals, actually. And his bank balances and investments and just anything like that. And specifically, Rex Leech’s finances in relation to those deals and balances and investments. 

Seriously, fuck that guy. Tim wouldn’t trust Rex Leech with his spare change, much less literally everything about the entire livelihood of a teen idol with limited legal personhood. 

“Oh, cool,” he says with a very careful reissue of Civilian Smile #7, trying to sound like he isn’t actively fantasizing about faxing all of Rex Leech’s tax returns for the last entirety-of-Superboy’s-existence to the IRS with some very pointed notes in red pen. 

Very pointed. 

Superboy grins at him again. Tim thinks he’s going to have to start just inventing new stages of grief, at this point. The current ones aren’t going to cover this situation. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just thought it might be a little harder to hang out together if you’re really never doing the civilian look,” he tries, and Superboy–stills, suddenly, and the grin vanishes all at once. Tim has a moment to be split between having an anxiety attack about having said the wrong thing or having an anxiety attack about the supervillain attack that’s about to land on his head when he still doesn’t have a mask, and then–

“You–what?” Superboy asks, looking startled. “I mean, uh–like–you wouldn’t get bored doin’ that?” 

“. . . hanging out with you?” Tim asks blankly. They’re soulmates. And also Superboy is quite possibly the literally least boring person he has ever met, douchey shades or not, and the list of “least boring” people in his life includes Bruce and Dick and more superheroes than he could shake his bo stick at. How is someone getting bored around him even a concern that would occur to Superboy? Like, literally ever? 

“No, I mean–” Superboy turns red, looking briefly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t have more fun hangin’ out with Superboy than just, uh–some guy?” 

It takes all of Tim’s Bat-training and gala-experience to not stare at him over that. That–what kind of question is that? 

“I mean, I’m just some guy,” he lies. “But I just meant it’d be way easier to hang out if we weren’t having to deal with people bugging you for selfies or autographs or whatever all the time, you know?” 

“I–uh, I guess,” Superboy says, still looking flustered. “Like–probably, I guess.” 

“Also I don’t want, like, a Gotham rogue randomly deciding you being in town is a good reason to start some shit,” Tim says wryly, because he definitely does not want that, in fact. “Feel like Batman wouldn’t like that very much.” 

“You believe in Batman, dude?” Superboy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re a half-alien clone and you think Batman’s hard to believe in?” Tim attempts to deflect with, because that was definitely a fuck-up on his part, and Superboy just laughs. 

“No, man, I just have literally never met a Gothamite who’d admit to believing Batman was a real dude,” he says. “I literally met Robin like a week ago and, like, pretty sure he was low-key trying to convince me he didn’t believe Batman existed.” 

It was not even a week, Tim thinks, mildly indignant for no good reason, then puts Dubious Civilian Expression #1 on his face and rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, Batman’s one thing, but no one actually thinks Robin’s real,” he snorts, and Superboy laughs again, sounding straight-up delighted about it. 

“No, he totally is!” he protests, grinning at him again too and linking his hands together behind his back as he leans towards him, which is incredibly, incredibly distracting for him. “Dude’s got the sick flips and everything and I totally saved his ass from Metallo. And, uh, then he totally saved my ass from Poison Ivy. Long story. Also he’s got a stick up his ass, like legit you would think that was where he kept that quarterstaff thing of his.” 

This is a dangerous topic, Tim recognizes while forcing down the instinct to reply it’s a bo staff, actually, they’re pretty different, and tries to figure out how to change the subject as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Robin talk is not a good idea right now, when there’s a risk of Superboy possibly noticing something about him, what with meeting Robin a reasonably fresh experience in his mind. 

Not that fresh, apparently, since he thinks it was “like a week” ago. But whatever. Not the point. Tim’s just annoyed by the inaccurate intel. 

. . . seriously. A week? 

“Batman or not, you apparently already have beef with Poison Ivy, so definitely I’d be worried about you being publicly in town without needing to pack a super-powered weed-whacker,” he says wryly instead of anything more damning or secret-identity-blowing. Superboy looks–weird, for a moment, leaning back a little bit to straighten back up. 

“You’d, like–actually be cool with me visiting you in Gotham? Like–that wouldn’t be annoying or whatever?” he asks, sounding just barely uncertain about it, and Tim again has to force himself not to stare at him. First: Superboy being any kind of uncertain whatsoever is the weirdest thing he’s ever seen, and second: they’re soulmates. People will spend a lot more time with their soulmates than occasionally visiting each other in different cities, especially five minutes after meeting them when they’re still trying to figure out who and what they are to each other. Again: Tim has investigated multiple missing persons cases that turned out to be “I found my soulmate” cases! Multiple! In Gotham, even! 

“Yes,” he says instead of any of that. “I would actually really like you to, in fact.” 

“Oh,” Superboy says, and turns red again. “I–uh–yeah, I guess that’d be cheaper than you needing to buy a plane ticket or run up your phone bill if you ever feel like shooting the shit or whatever, huh?” 

“I have unlimited minutes, actually,” Tim says, forcing down another stare. The staring would not help, at this moment. Or like–ever, probably. “And the plane ticket was only like a week’s allowance, plus my dad’s got a disgusting amount of frequent flyer miles saved up he never remembers to use anyway. I’ll buy you a plane ticket if you don’t feel like flying yourself.” 

“. . . uh,” Superboy says. Tim should stop talking, probably, but– 

“Also you’re my soulmate,” he says. “I could get, I dunno, an after-school job if I actually needed to cover anything like that. I just figured we could take turns flying over or something. I mean, if you decided to go to college in Gotham in a couple years or something I wouldn’t complain, obviously, just we’ve just met and that seems like a bit much to suggest first thing. Especially, uh, since you don’t actually have any transcripts, apparently. Um. Just, well, if you ever did want to be a civilian sometimes . . . like, eventually, I mean? Well, Gotham would probably be a good place to hide a Super, right? Nobody’d expect to see you there, and it’s not like you can’t commute.” 

Superboy is staring at him now. Tim thinks maybe he said something wrong after all. Or maybe the lycra rando is about to jump him from behind. 

Fifty-fifty, given the way his life tends to go. 

“Um,” he says. “Like–no pressure or anything. I could also look into colleges out here, do you know if there’s any good programming–uh, programs around? Like just tech in general.” 

Superboy is still staring at him. 

. . . okay, at this point, it’s probably that Tim said something wrong, yeah. 

God, he’s usually so much better at subtle social manipulations. Is this the panicking thing again? Is he panicking again? 

Apparently, yeah. 

“Um,” Tim says again. Superboy jolts like he’s just gotten shocked by static electricity or something and turns blazingly red. 

That is definitely not a color achievable by human circulatory systems, yeah. 

“Uh!” Superboy says, looking incredibly awkward for a second and then clearly forcing a casual, cocky pose as he raises an eyebrow at him with a smirk. It might come across as more convincingly casual if he weren’t still blushing, but Tim isn’t going to judge; blushing is generally an involuntary response. “I dunno, man, I don’t ask the college babes what their classes are like, you know? Not really my priority in the conversation.” 

. . . Tim might judge a little. Just, like–in passing. 

He really needs to figure out if they’re platonic or not. Just–very much so does he need to figure that out. 

“Well, if you get the chance next time, maybe you could just see what they think about the curriculum,” he suggests, because maybe they are platonic, and Superboy–hesitates, for a second, and then Tim’s not sure if he said something stupid or not, and then Superboy just grins at him again, crooked and easy, and it sort of fries Tim’s brain a little. 

Okay, so like . . . uh. Another mark against platonic, Tim guesses while he’s trying to remember how his slightly-fried brain even works. At least another mark against platonic on his end, anyway. Superboy talking about “college babes” is kind of a mark for platonic, admittedly. 

Unfortunately, Tim is still the guy whose first reaction to finding out Superboy was his soulmate was “wait, am I gay?”, so . . . yeah. 

So like, that’s a few things he’s gonna have to process at some point this week, he guesses. 

He can probably fit it in Thursday, he tells himself. 

“I mean, if you want me to chat up some campus coeds for ya, I guess I can be a soul-bro like that,” Superboy says, grinning wider. His grin is unfortunately gorgeous, and the statement is unfortunately heterosexual. Or at least very strongly platonic-soulmate-leaning, anyway. 

And Tim, to his awkward embarrassment, thinks he might actually be disappointed by that. 

. . . maybe he’ll fit in his processing on Sunday, he amends. Sunday he has a little more spare time to work with, and there’s just . . . going to be a lot of it, definitely. 

Just a lot. 

[suigenerisisadiva]

You're Australian?! Batboys x Aussie!Reader 🇦🇺

Pairing: Batboys x Reader when they find out their S/O is Australian (Like me lolol) Content: Australian bogan language, crack A/N: Requested by @ilona2nerrie, my fellow Aussie Diva 😍, Idk which style you wanted so I did headcanon-esque type thing lmao, guys FYI, this is all the slang I use in my daily life. Also can I just say this was such a pain to format omfg, I actually TWEAKED AND CRASHED OUT, Tumblr please fix yourself. COMMENT IF YOUR AUSSIE 🇦🇺🦘🐨

Dick Grayson!

Reaction: "Oh my god you're Australian?!! .....Is that why you say servo?" Immediately understands the accent now

Gets excited when you casually say "Bloke" or refer to mosquitoes as "mozzies"

Doesn't understand calling McDonald's "macca's" but rolls with it

Wears the Matilda's jersey as "cultural immersion" Asks loving, yet kinda stupid questions like:"Do you guys actually ride kangaroos to school?" "Can you say crikey one more time for me babe"

Quote :"Babe teach me the slang, I wanna say good on ya like a local" proceeds to tell it to his brothers with amazing confidence Will absolutely try Vegemite™ and cry.

Jason Todd! Reaction: "....yeah I figured. Americans aren't that calm."

Stops dead hearing you say "your gunpowder pongs bro"

Loves hearing you say "Oi"

Scared asf of spiders (this is my headcanon lolol), and gets you to kill all of them. Passes away eating a tim tam, from pure joy. Can't look at regular cake anymore after trying them lamingtons Quote: YOU HAD UNIFORMS IN SCHOOL??? Tragic doll, tragic."

Will absolutely start saying mate, and call Roy, Dick and Wally "Drongos"

Tim Drake!

Reaction:

"You're Australian-Australian? Like milo-straight-out-of-the-can Australian?" (I literally love doing that I am a milo addict fight me) Highkey blue-screens

Tweaks when you say "yeah, nah"

Reconsiders your guys's trip to the Northern Territory after hearing about drop bears.

Thought you said "Esky" to be different Quote: "Pookie who do you think would win: 100 Tim Drakes or 100 Kangaroos"

Will absolutely mimic your accent and sound so stupid.

Aged up!Damian Wayne!

Reaction:

"I suspected that..." Thinks your accent is cute but lowkey thought it was fake

Enjoys fairy bread and pork rolls like the average gyal when they hit the local bakery after school

Despises Vegemite with a burning passion

English already confuses him enough, so he thought you were talking about the actual undergarment when you said "thongs" so imagine his surprise when you're referring to the ones on your FEET.

Quote: "Shush you wallaby" Denies it to be affectionate Will absolutely travel to Australia to adopt a koala and have Bruce house it in the barn, it becomes good friends with Titus and Alfred

LMFAO I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THISSSS!!! I LOVE BEING AUSSIE! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!

Sources! - Moodboard - @saradika-graphics

Summer dividers - @bbyg4rlhelps

This post is property of suigenerisisadiva

[valiantothello]

Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying, Chapter 2: Roots

Its moments like this that show me how Dick is truly so much better than me. If a random kid walked up to me and said that about my father who just decked me in the face and told me to not come back, I'd get violent 😭.

And the funny thing is, we as the reader know that Dick has been "paying back" what he "owes" Bruce, as Tim says it. Batman Year Three shows Dick going to talk to Bruce after talking with his therapist *post-New Titans #53 in the hopes of settling the issues between them.

"DON'T YOU DARE BLAME ME FOR JASON'S DEATH!"

*New titans #53

Never say Dick doesn't go to therapy, guys

This all happens relatively close to each other, timeline wise. I'm pretty sure it's Dick; finds out Jason is dead, goes to Bruce, gets punched, leaves, has a Titans meeting and fires Danny Chase because he cant stomach mentoring someone so young anymore, goes to his therapist then goes to talk to Bruce again. Bruce isn't left to his own devices for very long, is what I'm trying to say. For even more reference, Jason dies in Batman #429: A Death in the Family and Dick comes back for his second talk with Bruce in Batman #436: Batman Year Three.

"BRUCE? BRUCE, WE'VE GOT TO-" "IT'S ALFRED, SIR. MASTER BRUCE IS GONE." "HE HAD TO KNOW I WANTED TO SPEAK WITH HIM, SO HE RAN BEFORE WE HAD OUR CONFRONTATION. ALFRED, I'M DEFINITELY FEELING YOU'RE RIGHT. SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH HIM, AND HE'S AVOIDING THE VERY PEOPLE WHO COULD TRY TO HELP HIM." "OUR CONVERSATIONS HAVE BEEN MINIMAL AT BEST-- --AND ONLY WHEN I AM TENDING TO HIS WOUNDS... WE NEED TO DO SOMETHING BEFORE-- WHICH ARE MORE FREQUENT THAN I HAVE EVER SEEN BEFORE." "THE TITANS BEEPER. HOLD A SEC."

Batman #437: Batman Year Three

He goes to find Bruce but ends up finding out how much excessive force Bruce is using on his opponents. It's so bad that Dick has to call an ambulance for a guy Bruce left behind on his rampage.

"HE KEPT SHOUTIN AT US--WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT THE GANG KILLINGS."

"WANTED TO KNOW WHAT WAS GOING DOWN THE GRAPEVINE" "I HEARD A RUMOR--NOTHIN' MORE. I SWEAR IT 'BOUT RICKY ROSSELLI... I TOLD BATMAN WHAT I HEARD." "BUT HE DIDN'T BELIEVE 'IM. HE KEPT HITTIN' JACKY TILL JACKY COULDN'T TALK NO MORE." "I'M CALLING FOR AN AMBULANCE. WHEN I'M DONE, I WANT YOU TO TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU TOLD BATMAN." 'What's HAPPENED to you, Bruce? what's going on?'

Batman #437: Batman Year Three

He ends up finding Bruce, only to get shrugged off. They play a game of cat and mouse: Dick chasing after Bruce, trying to get him to open up to him and Bruce running away from facing both his feelings AND Dick.

"WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO OPEN UP, BRUCE? YOU CAME SO CLOSE. WHY DID YOU SHUT DOWN ALL OVER AGAIN?"

Batman #437: Batman Year Three

Essentially, Dick takes up the brunt of the emotional labour in this book but Bruce is not allowing Dick to help. He says this when confronted by Dick about it:

Batman #437: Batman Year Three

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

"I HAVE SOME THEORIES I WANT TO CHECK OUT." "THEN I'M COMING WITH YOU." "NO! I DON'T NEED ANY PARTNERS."

The crux of the problem that Tim just doesn't get is that it's not about Dick not being Robin. Dick has been attempting to connect with Bruce, despite what he's done to him. The problem is Bruce rejecting partnership of any kind. He is pushing Alfred away, he is pushing Dick away. He cannot stomach the idea of a team anymore.

My point circles back to the idea of Dick owing something to Bruce. Dick owes Bruce nothing that he hasn't paid for in the form of years of loyalty, love and forgiveness. He will help Bruce time and time again and now the idea of debt is being thrown in his face and its like?? I think Tim saying that highlights how out the loop he really is on the Dick-Bruce relationship, despite everything he finds out, he has only gleamed the surface.

This was supposed to be a funny shitpost and it became meta oh ok 👍

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader: kids of villains: meeting Cass and Stephanie

Route: recovered dove

Warnings: bad writing, bad English, attempt at fluff?

Authors note: I know Im late. Its far past midnight where I am, and only now i found time to post. I am currently not able to post regulary, but I will post when i can. I will answer on all coments I haven`t yet after some sleep

They say, when you see something one time you cannot unseen it. In your case it was, when you heard something, you cannot stop hearing it. Well, since you become a real member of batfamily, free to hang out with everyone and almost everywhere in a manor, you were fee to converse and to hear the conversations of others. And while doing it, you started notice how everyone were bringing up two names. Cassandra and Stephanie.

One time it was when you came down to the batcave to bring Tim yet another cup of coffee. Dodging consequences of Damian's and Dick's training, you carefully completed your task and started watching the two of them

- Hey, Dams, is that a new move? - Dick commented, dodging the blow in his dramatically graceful manner

-  Cassandra have showed it to me

- Cass? Wait, why she has name privileges and I don't?

.... Cass?

Or another day, or rather night, where you were woken up by the sudden thunder, and decided to watch few documentaries in the living room to distract yourself. On your way Chlory, who was on your shoulder pulled you, so you've look in the library and low and behold, Tim was doing something on the laptop sitting near the couch on the floor while Jason was on the couch reading. You walked over, sitting next to Jason, Chlory creaked happily to greet both of them.

- How was patrol? - you asked them

- good - Jay answered calmly, giving you a head pat

- yeah, aside from Jason acting not according to the plan - Tim grumbled

- hey, I couldn't possibly ignore the tip Steph gave me, could I?

.... Steph?

It led you to conclusion: they existed, well obviously, and they were part of batfamily, meaning your family. You had two more siblings, and you didn't know about them. You didn't really know why. Maybe Bruce have told you, because now thinking about that, you remember him mentioning you haven't met all of your family, but he didn't really talk in long about them with you. Maybe that was caused by the fact that he was busy, maybe by the fact that your adjusting to the family took longer than he thought.  You couldn't know the real reason, that's why you were left theorizing. All you could say for sure, is that you wanted to meet them.  You wanted to know Cass and Steph

Maybe, this wish was heard by stars or wind, like in fairytales you read to Chlory in order to practice your read and speech, but really soon after you met them, and, well, it all happened in true batfamily fashion

You Firstly met Steph. It happened one particularly noisy afternoon, when it seemed everyone who was in manor, that left you with Jason and Damian ... and some other voice. You've considering to stay in your room, but your hunger decided for you. So, you made your way to the kitchen.... and saw her, as your latter found out. She was emptying the fridge from every food option possible, with intention to make it her meal. As you stared at her, trying to analyze her opinion on you, she started back, slightly startled and surprised

- wow, this is awkward.... - she said, soon after, her eyes traveled between you and her food collection- wanna sandwich?

You nodded.

Soon you found out, Stephanie was a ... rather talkative person, a yapper as she called herself. And maybe it was overwhelming at times, because she talked even more than your biological father, you liked the way Steph talked. She talked with you as if your past didn't exist, as if she didn't care about your blood relations, and soon you found out she indeed did not

- Pfft, my father was a bad guy too. Am I a villain to ya? - she said one time you brought it up.

In Steph's eyes you were adorable! A little cutie, who looked a bit too lost, sure, but aside from that, you were cute as hell. So, she wanted to hang out with you. She told you funny stories about her school life and her patrols. Sometimes she joined you and Tim in your game nights. And she also helped you to color your hair.

As for Cass, you met her later. It wasn't something awkward, at least on her part. You just noticed that dancing room (yes you were surprised that it was in manor) which was usually empty and that's why closed, was open. You couldn't help but get curious and take a look. What you saw was really beautiful. You saw dancing only on TV, when Jason showed you ballet adaptation of Romeo and Juliette. But the moment was short lived, Cass noticed you right away, turning to look at you, and after few moments she softly smiled at you, giving you a little greeting wave.

Cas knew body language like no one else, she was professional in reading it, and she saw your hesitance, she noticed presence of small fear, but that was to be expected, judging by the what Bruce have talked about you. And she, for sure never noticed anything malicious in you. You were a kid, who was traumatized beyond measure. She could relate. She, just like you, weren’t given a choice, but now in the Wayne manor everything is better. You safe now. You have control of what you do and who you are.

Cass took you after her wing in some sense. She showed you that with her you were safe. She also did not pressure you it any point in expression yourself though words, she could understand you without them. You both formed almost telepathic bound, understanding each other without words. And it was nice. Sometimes you both just hang out with each other, while being busy with your own activities: she could dance and you could draw, and sometimes (oftentimes) during those sessions you draw her. You both also started practicing reading and speaking together. Sure, it surprised her that you already had a deep knowledge about since language (thanks to Tim), but it made her proud of you. She was proud to be your older sister

And sometimes the three of you hang out together. Steph called three of you (and sometimes she forced squad Damian to join in) the villain's kids, and we'll name was suiting. Steph was talking about how three of you are trauma bounding while you and Cass were sitting down, chewing on snacks or choosing movies to watch, because those hang outs usually happened after patrols, and it was more reasonable to relax. That was just good. Yes, Steph and Cass sometimes fall asleep to your favorite documentaries (Though, Damian who usually was around when you chose the film watched it with you) but it was so domestic and comforting.

All in all, you love your family even more

-------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ◇ ♧ ---------------------

Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about my work! Hope you have a good day

-------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ◇ ♧ ---------------------

♡ Tag list ♡

if i forgot someone or anyone want to be added please let me know

@dearlawdimasimp , @shirp-collector-of-fixations , @socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr , @cxcilla ,  @charlotteking23 , @ninihrtss , @lillycore , @pix-stuff , @tfamidoingwithmylife , @linoalwaysknows , @00hellohello00 , @lilithskywalker , @bagofrice , @lenaisaloser , @devilslittlehelper , @camilo-uwu , @l3v1us , @eyeless-kun , @stargazingbutgayer, @wpdarlingpan , @weirdothatreads , @maybea1 @mel-viper-wayne @amber-content @lizzyzzn @animadi888  @coldnightshark @anamiranda7383

[onceabluemoonthoughts]

Everyone in the bat family is fluent in multiple languages.

And I’m bilingual, so here’s some language blunder moments I’ve had but put through the batfam.

Steph(talking to herself while on sims4): And i can add a scooter there… wait scooter? No it’s a uh… tricycle? No, definitely not… oh my god, the one that hurts on the shins! What’s it called?!

(Looks up ‘the shins hurt thing’. Then edited to ‘the kids toy that hurts shins’ then edited to ‘the kids toy ride thing that hurts shins’ then edited to ‘the kids toy ride wheels that hurts shins’ before finally getting search results not about how to fix shin pain)

(I did do this, today, which is why I am making this post in the first place actually)

Steph: what?! It is called a scooter! I was right the first time!

Dick(getting caught in a lie): I really digged myself a hole didn’t I?

Bruce: Digged? You mean dug. You dug yourself a hole

Dick: Huh? No. I don’t accept that. I’m using digged. Fuck English.

Tim: By the way where’s the uh… (snapping fingers) the uh… oh god what’s it called? The thingy…

Barbara: Just say it in the language you’re thinking. I speak most of the same languages as you by now

Tim: uh… it’s the uh… I don’t know

Barbara: what?

Tim: I forgot the word… in all languages.

Barbara: then I can’t help you.

Jason: oh yea he talks out of his elbows doesn’t he?

Roy(confused): he what?

Jason: talks out of his elbows?

Roy: …

Jason: it’s a saying. Means he talks a lot.

Roy: yea, not an English saying bud.

Jason: … well it should be.

Jon: you’re late

Damian: I am aware. However there was no… I could not see the time because the… uh..

Jon(expecting an excuse): ..?

Damian(frustrated): I know what I am about to say is wrong. I forgot the actual word. There was no watch on the wall. I did not know the time.

Jon(trying not to laugh): you uh… mean a clock?

Damian: shut up.

[thecorefrisk]

Hey, babe! Ummm, why is the Duke Thomas tag filled with… anyone but Duke? Why is he ONLY talked about when in relation to other characters??? Why is he one of the few black characters involved with the bats and the public’s reaction was to make him.. meek? Quiet? Take away all his fire and spunk?

Why is Duke Thomas never treated as his own character and an extension of a white set of characters rather than his own individual with his own set of hurts and challenges and hopes and dreams.

Why is he treated like a reflection, again an EXTENSION, instead of as an individual.

Why do entirely different fandoms (marvel, mlb, goddamn DANNY PHANTOM) treat him more as a member of the bats than the actual dc fandom does.

Why.

Why.

Because, like, I don’t know a lot about him as a character. I was going into the tag to see what people had to say— what they thought about him.

And there’s only Tim. Or Damian. Or Dick. Or Jason. Or Bruce. Or any other character that ISN’T Duke Thomas. And I got frustrated because, from what I’ve seen, he’s REALLY cool.

A meta? Under the tutelage of THE Batman? And his parents went through a whole thing with the Joker so his mom is in a coma and he had to be fostered by Bruce for a while and—

I want to read his comics but I wanted some insight into him before I read so I could know what to expect. And Duke is practically nonexistent under his own tag.

And when he’s there? He gets racist takes. He gets dumbed down. He’s not himself.

Dude, I saw a ‘neglected reader x batfam’ post that treats him more like his own character through the showing of his grief and how he struggled with the loss of someone who he didn’t even know all that well but still cherished. Like, he was a person. He was a character. He wasn’t a gimmick, he wasn’t a head cannon, he wasn’t cannon fodder in some random tumblr user’s attempt to glorify yet another white male character.

He was himself and he was perfect.

(And this isn’t to knock down the writer’s ability nor their interests in the slightest but I’ve seen some pretty bad fics with the previously mentioned trope— ‘neglected reader x batfam’— and they have outdone themselves. I am more so trying to make a point that someone in an area of the fandom that is not often traversed unless almost shamefully did something wonderful when they wrote their Duke Thomas when people who write their trope are commonly seen mischaracterizing the batfam to the max.)

Just-

If they can do that, why can’t other people? Why can’t you?

Do better.

[wandixx]

Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures

I realized I posted a teaser and never really followed up on it, so here is some more of that

“Hey, Dami?”

Boy hadn’t looked up from the kittens he was bottle feeding but let out a hum indicating he listened.

“I'm thinking about trying out a more girlish style. Do you think it would suit me?”

Well, Damian had no idea but if Dani wished to give it a chance, then, well, the only proper reaction was to offer his aid.

*-*-*

“Father, I require access to your rouge gallery.”

Bruce almost choked on his breakfast when his youngest made this announcement.

Rouge gallery, as his children playfully called it, was vast collection of lipsticks, which he collected to uphold his Brucie persona. Famous playboy with head constantly in the clouds couldn’t not show up with discreet signs of scandal from time to time. And it couldn’t always be the same shade. Or scent when he choose more subtle approach and used one of his more feminine perfumes.

In all honesty, he enjoyed this.

But that’s not the point, point was that Damian wanted to use it and Bruce needed to know what disaster would fall upon him if he agreed.

“Mind telling me why, chum?”

Dick, who visited Manor for a weekend, barely stifled his laughter while Tim stared at his empty coffee mug like it personally betrayed him. Cass just wore her usual knowing and mischievous smile.

Damian shifted in his chair, hands clenching on butter knife. He was nervous and suddenly Bruce dreaded the answer he was about to hear.

“I don’t see how me sharing this information would change anything. It won’t be used to cause harm to anyone but it’s necessary in the extracurricular project I just started.”

“Dami, what project?” Dick asked, voice oozing with genuine curiosity and excitement. He was almost bouncing.

“I don’t want to disclose it.”

“Is this a hero or civilian type of deal?”

Damian didn’t look any of them in the eyes, both hands clenching on his seat as he kept shifting. Bruce narrowed his eyes. Was his youngest… flustered?

“Civilian”

“Alright, great” Dick swung back with single clap, almost tripping his chair over “I think B won’t have anything against you using his rouge gallery, will he?” Man knew his oldest son well enough to recognize his ‘don’t you dare to disagree’ tone. He was confused but there wasn’t any harm so he nodded with affirmative hum.

“Thank you, Father”

Boy practically inhaled rest of his food and rushed outside. Despite all his training and all his efforts, they clearly saw his excitement. Tim pinched himself and returned to staring at his mug.

“Cass, have you seen what I’ve seen or am I overreacting?” Dick asked, barely restraining his enthusiasm. Girl nodded eagerly, shoving more crumbs into her mouth. Young man cheered, throwing his hands up.

“What have I missed?” Tim mumbled, frowning a little.

“BABY BAT HAS A CRUSH!”

Cass nodded again with wide smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Who were they? What did he know about them? Was Protocol 3r0s started? Did someone run a background check already? What could they do if they somehow hurt Damian? Was this person a risk to their identities? Oh gods, oh no.

He probably will have to do The Talk™.

He always dreaded having The Talk, with any of his kids. He felt The Talk with Damian would be even worse. Understandably so.

“Also sleep in at least three da-”

“Fuck off, dick.”

“Was this insult or-”

His children remained obvious to how much work it meant, cheering and sassing each other like they often did.

*-*-*

Damian did not know how it was possible but he lowered his guard enough to get caught.

"What are you doing?" Brown choked out after they stared at each other for a long moment.

"It does not concern you–"

"You're rummaging through my wardrobe, not many things concern me more and also, that's frickin creepy don't do it to anyone outside of the family"

She did have a point however he was not convinced it would be the correct approach if he shared his plan. Father's wards (even unofficial like Brown) tended to make assumptions and overreact based on these conjectures. Dani wasn't easy to scare off but he didn't want to check if his family would manage. They often did things thought to be impossible.

He tried to get away but the blonde stood fiercely in a door, leaving the window as the only way out. He wasn't this desperate. Yet.

Girl looked more and more angry at his silence. He had to give her some answers.

Now that he actually considered it, she could be a useful asset. She was far better versed in women's fashion and if he phrased it correctly, he wouldn't even need to bribe her. Question was, how should he phrase it?

"I have an acquaintance- I have a friend," he corrected himself "from the animal shelter I volunteer at. She mentioned wanting to try out more 'girlish style' and asked for my opinion. I wanted to see if you had any clothes that would fit her. She is smaller than me so I thought that whatever I take, it wouldn't be missed." 

Brown grinned with an unsettling gleam in her eyes. He suddenly regretted opening his mouth if not coming to this room in the first place. 

"Say no more, I have a plan Demon Child"

[gothamite-rambler]

Duke Thomas when he learned the darker moments of Bruce including the "Test" he performed on Tim, everything with post revival Jason, and a few bits and pieces for Dick. So he is sticking up for his buddies/brothers.

Duke (on comms during a mission): When I see you stand by Selina, I believe you see two bad bitches. I believe you don't like women, it's real competition, you might pop ass with 'em.

Batman (confused): What?

Duke (rapping): Let's speak on percentage, show me your splits, I'll make sure I double back with you. You were signed to a trigga that's signed to a trigga that said he was signed to that trigga.

Jason and Dick listening in are too stunned to speak.

Barbara (eating cheese puffs while working, impressed): Nice switch up there.

Batman (sad dad voice): I just wanted to know why you were giving me the silent treatment. Please stop.

Duke (rapping with ease while decking a goon in the face): Put your eldest son through hurtles, you're a douche bag. Throwing a weapon at your second son's neck that's a jackass move and putting the third to a test, that's hoe shit-

Batman (enraged, gritted teeth): You are not doing this! Stop it right now!

Duke continued to play the villain as the Dark Knight confronted him, the entire exchange echoing through the Batmobile's speakers.

Duke (interrupting while rapping, enjoying this): Hoe, what? You ain't like that call out? Bat to bat, I'll call out the ego knight. Imma get back to that, for the record. Now why would I call you out at this moment? Y'all think I'd let that slide? Nah, but you got a son to raise, but I can see you don't know nothin' 'bout that-

Batman (hearing an echo from his batmobile): You're on a speaker system?!

Duke: Tell him to pray, know nothin' 'bout that. And givin' him tools to walk through life like day-by-day, know nothin' 'bout that. Teachin' him morals, integrity, discipline, listen, man, you don't know nothin' 'bout that. Speakin' the truth and consider what God's considerin', you don't know nothin' 'bout that-

Batman (shouting, startling the villains in front of him): ALRIGHT, I GET IT!

Poison Ivy (in the background, pouting): Aww, come on, it was just getting good!

Batman: You shut the hell up, Pam! Signal, we will talk about this later!

Jason (laughing): Nah, he’s not finished yet.

Dick (sounding corny, bless his heart): Let him cook!

Batman: Who told him?!

Tim (amused): We may have… told him some stories about you while his arm was healing.

Duke: Yeah, and it’s a good thing little Robin isn’t on patrol tonight. I was holding this in, but I didn’t want the kid around. I respect you, Batman, but sometimes you’re trash at parenting! You trash! You trash!

Batman (offended): Stop calling me trash! This is oddly hurtful!

Riddler: A dumpster fire fit's you more.

Ivy (dryly): Rat-infested garbage barge.

Mad Hatter: Trash island!

Batman: Oh, would you all shut the hell up!

Dick covered his mouth, smiling but also shocked. Jason was laughing. Tim smiled while patrolling with Duke.

Duke: I’m tired, B! I'm tired! What did these intelligent, handsome, confident men do to you? That test alone was foul! You are—

Villains: Trash!

Batman (clenched jaw as he spoke): What can I give you to make this embarrassment end?

Duke: I can see you’re a changed man, but you owe your sons, and me—an apology. Namely, a trip to New York Comic Con all expenses paid... and you buy me a cosplay for an anime of my choice.

Poison Ivy: Good start, but go higher!

Jason: Get us all cars!

Batman (mumbling): Am I in hell?

Barbara: Sorry to chime in, but I’d like a trip to Hawaii with a date.

Dick: No fair! I said Star and I were going to Hawaii!

Batman: I said I was sorry, why must you remind me of this and demand bribes! I already pay all of you and I am not a bad bitch! I’m Batman!

Barbara (joining in): Bitch Man!

Batman: He’s only acting like this because I said Castlevania is dumb! Which it is! That’s just my personal opinion!

Mad Hatter and Riddler disagreed, but Batman threw a dull batarang at both of them to shut them up.

Tim: Batman... you sent him a PowerPoint on why it’s bad.

Ivy (crossing her arms): I bet you hate Kendrick too.

Ivy ducked as Batman tossed a small pebble at her.

Duke (shouting, enraged): Castlevania isn’t a stupid anime just because you didn’t understand Dracula as a character! Keep talking and ooo, I’ll start with Not Like Us! Don’t test me, I’m operating on two hours of sleep!

Stephanie (laughing): Bitch Man's gonna need Aloe Vera for those burns!

Batman: Okay, laugh it up! When I'm back home, all of you are on punishment! Oracle cut the feed from my car speakers and I don’t dislike Kendrick! I have great taste in music!

Batman cut off his communication device and Barbara disconnected the bluetooth connection Duke set up when Bruce wasn't aware he put that in his car. Ivy walked over to the Dark Knight with a smirk, making the hero groan annoyed.

Batman (gruff, wanting a break for the night): I already thanked you for helping me.

Ivy (enjoying the strife and chaos): You did, but this little call out towards you was much more satisfying. At least you’re not a terrible dad like mine.

Batman: I’ll take that as a compliment, weed.

Ivy (smugly): Whatever helps your verbal beat down, douche canoe.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WOULD YOU DO ANYTHING FOR ME?, BUY A BIG DIAMOND RING FOR ME?” ── .✦ ( how batboys act when they’re engaged w reader )

dollish note ౨ৎ: I lowkey crashed out over losing Americans on tiktok but this woke up to post on tumblr but hey, also can we talk about how trump used that as a pr stunt && thought we wouldn’t notice wtf like omgg the way many americans caught on, alsoo please leave some motivation for me because I just kinda lost motivation for this app after the tiktok thingy went down 🫠 tags: (batboys x engaged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Over the moon and not afraid to show it. Dick tells everyone the second you say yes. Alfred? He knows. Random stranger in the grocery store? The metro security guy?, Yep, they know too. He’s got that goofy, lovestruck grin plastered on his face 24/7.

Wedding planning enthusiast. You thought you’d do most of the planning? Wrong. Dick’s fully invested, showing you Pinterest boards of venues, color schemes, and “Do you think Nightwing blue (dollish note: I think ‘#3366CC’ perhaps?) would be tacky for the napkins?”

Gets sappy at random times. You’ll catch him staring at you with a dreamy look, and when you ask why, he just shrugs. “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”, “Dick calm down you only proposed like 2 weeks ago.”

Brags to the Batfam constantly. “Guys, I’m going to be a husband! Can you believe it? Me! Richard Grayson!” Bruce pretends to be joyful a bit but he’s done hearing it for the 777x time but even he cracks a small smile when Dick won’t shut up about you.

Practices saying his vows in the mirror. You walked in on him once, and he was mortified. “Okay, but you didn’t hear the good part yet!”, “You literally finished the whole paper !!”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Acts like it’s not a big deal, but it’s huge for him. He’ll play it cool at first, saying something like, “It’s just a ring, babe.” But deep down, he’s nervous, excited, and trying not to let it show.

Keeps the engagement low-key. Jason’s not one for flashy announcements or grand gestures. He wants this to be something special between you two, not the whole world.

Protective x10. Now that you’re officially going to be his spouse, Jason is extra watchful. He’s already looking into ways to keep you safe and makes sure you’re never caught in the crossfire of his vigilante life.

Wants you to be 100% comfortable. He checks in with you constantly about the wedding plans. “We don’t have to do anything big, okay? Just say the word, and it’s done.” He’ll let you take the lead but secretly loves when you include him.

Teases you with the whole “fiancé” thing. “Hey, fiancée. Can you grab my coffee? Oh, did I mention you’re my fiancée now?” It’s his way of hiding how excited he really is.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Nervous wreck but totally in love. Tim overthinks everything after proposing. Did he pick the right ring? Did he say the right words? Is he even ready to be a husband? But every time he sees you smile, it calms him down.

Keeps it practical. Tim doesn’t want a huge engagement party or a grand wedding. He’s more focused on what your future together will look like your shared goals, finances, and making sure you’re both on the same page.

Researches marriage like it’s a mission. He has books on successful relationships, listens to podcasts, and even makes a checklist for wedding planning. You find it adorable when he starts using color coded spreadsheets.

Loves when you call him your fiancé. The first time you said it, he blushed so hard he had to look away. Now he’s low-key obsessed with hearing it. “You don’t have to keep calling me that… but don’t stop either.”

Gets emotional when he thinks about the future. You once caught him staring at the engagement ring on your finger, looking teary-eyed. When you asked what was wrong, he said, “I just can’t believe you’re actually mine.” (I would’ve smacked the shit out of him for that, I don’t do romance 🙄💪)

[batbirdies]

What are your top fanfic recs for 2024?

aha!! I am late answering this as usual but I went through all of my bookmarks made in 2024 to pick out my favs and I saved the links in an email draft and then when I went to make this post it was poofed gone so then I abandoned the idea but am back, recollecting links here and half rereading them as I go lol.

So these are some of my particular fav fics read and bookmarked in 2024, not necessarily that were published in 2024. (Though I think most of them were)

Also I don’t know if most of these authors have Tumblrs or what their handles are if they do, so if you recognize one and know it please tag them! Or let me know and I’ll edit in the tag.

So:

Ground Control to Jason Todd by TheThoughtsThief [22,520 words]

Jason died at fifteen years old. He recalled a light, searing and white against the expance of a black sky and the nothingness of space. He recalled a star, speaking to him with a morose calm. Then, finally, he remembered the universe giving him a second chance at life. A few years down the line, he goes chasing after myths to figure out why.

Or, a Dick and Jason space road trip au featuring Japanese death poems, Shakespearean tragedies, and Abba's greatest hits.

My first bookmark of 2024! This fic is super unique. I’m not usually big on AUs but road trips are my jam so I gave this one a shot and the ~vibes~ are impeccable. It’s soft and flowy and the recurring poetry and the relationship between Dick and Jason and the willowy liminal space experiences… so good.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers by TheSilencer [13,106 words]

"Oh." Nightwing said. "It's your first time."

"My what?" Jason said.

"It's like 'The Time Traveler's Wife.' Except I'm not your wife. Not that I'd be a bad wife, but not for you. That'd be gross - Wait, is that movie even out, yet?" Nightwing rambled, and Jason stood up on wobbly legs. "Shoot. I guess it doesn't matter. Not relevant -"

Or Jason Todd is a time traveler, and Dick Grayson is always his destination. 

A story about brothers doing their best.

Basically what it says in the description. Jason randomly moves through time throughout his life, always landing where Dick Grayson is. sometimes Jason needs Dick, and sometimes Dick needs Jason, and neither of them ever really has the full picture of what’s going on. But they do their best for each other<3 they’re brothers your honor 😭😭

Still hurts underneath my scars by valkyriered [2,928 words]

“Stop.” The man in the purple suit says, and Jason freezes.

“Stay there.” He says. “Don’t move.”

Jason tries to lurch forward, has some half-prepared snark about being told what to do, and he finds that he can’t. He can’t even move his arms. His eyes dart around the empty warehouse. Fuck. “Who are you?” Jason demands. “What is this?”

The man doesn’t even look over at him. “Stop talking.” 

I’ll warn, this fic says “no archive warnings apply” but there is heavy implication of previous sexual assault. No direct references but it’s definitely there.

The use of Killgrave in this is stellar, I still find him one of the most terrifying villains I’ve ever watched or read about in anything I’ve seen. The moment is small and doesn’t even seem that bad on the surface but the writing puts you in Jason’s head and you can feel how frightening it would be, and how scared Jason really, really is. Has made me think about using Killgrave in a fic sometimes cause it truly has some juicy potential.

There is comfort, and Selina is great in this, but it is from Jason’s POV and he is still pretty Not OkayTM when it ends, so just, you know, be careful with yourselves. It’s very well written and Jason is well taken care of by his loved ones in the end but it’s a hurty one.

Displacement by @imbecamiel [21,244 words]

“He’s dead,” Tim said, blankly.

“Look at me.” Jason ducked his head to catch Tim’s eyes. “Hey, look at me. You didn’t kill him. You just shot him. No big deal, right? You’ve injured lots of people. Just part of the job. Doesn’t matter it was with a gun this time. Doesn’t change anything. I’m the one who killed him. You’re fine.”

Loooove this fic. Tim accidentally fatally shoots someone in self defense. Jason is there, sees Tim panicking, and finishes the job himself so he can take the blame.

The relationships in this fic are so good, and the CHARACTERS are just SO GOOD. I started to say a lot more but then I just started summarizing the whole thing and spoiling it. Just know that Jason and Tim’s interactions in this are great, and Bruce and Jason have SUCH a good and satisfying end to their arch in this, which is so important to me and can be hard to find.

A Sad Song With Nothing To Say by WakingNightmares [14,805 words]

It starts with the Make A Wish foundation, and ends with a funeral.

Which, Bruce supposes, is unfortunately how things involving the Make A Wish foundation usually work. But what happens in-between catches him completely off-guard.

Ok, know first that this fic isn’t really my usual fair because it’s heavy on the hurt and light on the comfort. Be prepared if you decide to read this one.

A young gotham boy dying of cancer uses his Make A Wish Foundation wish to meet The Red Hood, more as a joke than anything, not expecting it to actually happen. The boy has no one else, he’s dying alone and in pain, and Jason can’t do anything about the pain but he can keep him from being alone. So he stays with the kid, whenever he can, and soon the other bats start helping, so he’s not by himself. But Jason grows attached, and Bruce knows, they all know that it is not going to end well. That the devastation this is going to wreak on Jason will be no small thing. But no one really has the heart to do anything but help.

Like I said this fic is damn well agonizing but it hit me in such a cathartic way. Because it’s devastating. The story is so painful, but everyone is helping. Everyone is there. There is so much love in this fic and as much comfort as can be offered even if it is not nearly enough. And when it ends—Bruce is there.

Open Line by @lurkinglurkerwholurks [2,140 words]

Dick pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled the crate down from the top shelf. The line rang twice before connecting.

“Hey, you busy?” Dick stepped down from the stool and carried the crate to the table, popping the top and flipping it off to the side to reach inside.

“Everything okay?” Bruce asked. His voice sounded close, like he was in a small space.

Dick is dealing with some unexpected grief and Bruce is a good dad. That’s all you need sometimes, you know?

Eat Your Heart Out by Lishalalalala [35,527 words]

What people don’t expect of Bruce Wayne is his ability to love in such a detailed way. What people absolutely expect of Jason Todd is his ability to show up at the worst place, at the worst time, every damn time. But not all late-night calls from the hospital are bad, not all galas are bad, and not all of Bruce's culinary attempts are bad. Featuring food; Jason's self-esteem issues, his complicated relationship with food; and the different ways confidence can be filled. Also featuring one Bruce Wayne trying his best.

(Endeavoring to grow up shouldn’t have been this hard considering it’s the second round for him. )

A story of Bruce and Jason revolving around each other, pinging off in different directions when things don’t go well. Of love shown through food. Of Jason’s skittish and slow acceptance of that love.

Each chapter is its own scene, little time skips between, building on each other to craft a very soft picture. This fic makes me ache in such a way. It’s poetic, it manages to make sweet, nostalgic moments stab you in the heart. Very recently completed, and I still need to leave a comment on the final chapter, whoops.

Also gives a well thought out and reasonable explanation for Bruce’s poor cooking skills lol.

Thats all from 2024, but im gonna cheat and also add one from this month cause I read it yesterday and have been gushing about it since and there’s so little Steph and Bruce fic out in the world, it needs more love.

If they could only remember/which one is you and which one/the source of all fire by @luvo27 [9,086 words]

When she’s not with him on patrol, he knows she’s often patrolling on her own. When she’s not patrolling on her own, he knows she’s wandering around Gotham. She doesn’t spend a lot of time at home, not even after her father died. She seems, Bruce thinks, like she’s lonely. He clears his throat. Stephanie looks up from her phone. Bruce can read the screen upside down, she’s still looking up solar eclipses. An idea starts to form in his mind. He starts to ask, “Do you…would you—the path of totality crosses over Vermont. Or the state of New York.” “Yeah,” Stephanie turns her phone to face him. “I was looking at the maps.” “That’s a little over seven hours away by car,” Bruce says.

Or: Stephanie and Bruce take a road trip to see the solar eclipse, featuring: Stephanie Brown and her Stephanie Brown-ness, Bruce Wayne and his Bruce-ness, and grief.

Bruce’s POV throughout. Stephanie is Robin, Jason is dead, and Bruce can see so much of Jason in Stephanie that he can barely look at her. But even in his grief he can’t stop caring, can’t stop wanting to help her. Can’t stop being terrified that she will meet the same end that Jason did.

Bruce is messy and he’s not doing amazing but he’s trying very hard. Stephanie is also messy and not doing amazing, but she is trying very hard. Has a soft ending but deals pretty heavily with grief, so be aware.

Hope you enjoy these!!

[vigil-antes]

*During a particularly slow patrol or stakeout*

Steph: Soo, if you were to have a song as your theme, what song would you choose? Personally i think id be 'Applause' by Lady Gaga.

Damian: This is ridiculous, brown, i will not be part to such a foolish activity.

Steph: Dont be such a debby downer, brat. Have some fun once in your life.

Damian: *Scoffs*

Dick: I like this game! i-

Bruce: We're on an important mission, everyone. Keep the talk work related.

Steph: C'mon big guy, nothing's happening, and we're all close to falling asleep. If anything, this ensures we're attentive if anything happens.

Bruce: ...Very well. But keep your eyes on the target.

Dick: Will do! Anyways, as i was saying, i think id be 'Royals' by 'Lorde'!

Steph: Dick, i mean this in the nicest way possible but you are quite literally the closest thing there can be to modern-society royalty.

Dick: Yeah, thats why i like the song!

Tim: So you just never listen to the words?

Dick: I mean i never really close attention but is it really that much of a problem??

Duke: I mean, you are like, all of the things she mention she's never going to be.

Dick: Oh :(

Steph: *Snorts* Yeah, if anything youd be 'Candy' by Robbie Williams.

Tim: Hah, yeah.

Dick: Ok, i like the song but now im getting the feeling that its not a compliment.

Cass: Dumb but nice big brother :)

Damian: You do act quite like an empty headed buffoon at times, Richard.

Dick: What! No! Ok wait let me choose another song... ok, ill be 'Killer Queen' by Queen, ok?

Steph: Yeah i guess i can accept that. What about you, tim?

Tim, in a completely dead voice: 'What is love' by TWICE.

Duke: Uh...

Tim: I said what i said.

Duke: Ok... well, i like 'sunflower' by Post Malone.

Dick: Aaw, you are like a sunflower, thats so nice

Cass: You are very bright and warm, yes. Like sunshine

Duke: Thats the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Cass: I like 'The dog days are over' by Florence and The Machine

Tim: Thats... pretty much perfect for you.

Dick: Yeah, agreed.

Tim: So, baby brat, what about you?

Damian: I told you, i wont lower myself to such childish games!

Dick: Come on, little bat, for me?

Damian: I am not one to be swayed so easily, you fool!

Cass: Dont be mean, baby brother, and have fun. Please?

Damian:

Damian: Fine. I choose 'You should see me in a crown' by Billie Eilish. I would look very good in a crown.

Steph: Yeah, i dont know what i expected

Dick: What about you, Bruce?

Bruce: I dont listen to music.

Tim: Damn man, that sounds depressing, you must know a song or two

Bruce: I really dont know that many songs, Tim. Maybe you can choose for me

Dick: No! That defeats the purpose of the game, B, come on, just think about it for a second

Bruce: Mmm... I guess if i were to choose, 'Viva la vida' by Coldplay woul-

Jason, who has the comms frequency but never uses and isnt even on the same mission: Personally I'd be 'Fireworks' by Katy Perry

Dick: Jay! its so nice to hear you parteci-

Jason: Specifically the part that goes 'do you ever feel already buried deep, six feet underground but no one seems to hear a thing'

Dick: *softly* Jay, no.

[angstyentropy]

The writers of Robin War did not get We Are Robin at all, on re-read it's quite obvious they didn't care for them at all. They treat We Are Robin (WAR) as if it's useless, they're importance is downplayed at every turn and they barely get any moment to shine.

(break because this is a long post)

Most of my issues start after the Robins meet up at the gym. Duke starts giving a speech while his friends stand off to the side. Up until this point Duke has never been treated as a leader and the We Are Robin team have only acted as equals.

Everyone decided independently to go out and fight crime, everyone is on the same page and that's why they work together. They're a group working together because they want to, they aren't a gang working under a gang leader.

Damian immediately shows up, tells them they aren't Robin, tells them to go home, insults them and beats up both Duke and everyone else. On top of dozens of people being arrested our first impressions of We Are Robin are them being portrayed as weak and incompetent, and I hate that this isn't a one time occurrence.

Grayson #15 literally starts with WAR saying they are Robin only to immediately be corrected by the "main four" Robins followed by Dick talking about how inexperienced they are. Not long after we get a two page spread of Damian berating them and beating them with ease.

What happens right after they get trained? They get captured and rendered useless before they could do anything. What happens when they're captured? You guessed it! They get insulted more. They don't even get to show off any training as they escape, they just reach between bars and throw Tim upwards, the next two encounters with the Talons barely show any of WAR fighting either.

I get that this was supposed to show the difference in skill but we haven't been shown WAR doing anything that doesn't show how weak they are, it's overkill and is just discrediting all of them. Plus it's missing the entire point, they aren't meant to fight super villains and they aren't meant to be super soldiers.

For the Third? Fourth? Time now Damian defeats all of them again. Can you tell how tired of this I am yet? Finally after all that we get to see We Are Robin fight!

...But it didn't feel satisfying at all, not to me at least. The fighting is relegated to the background, in the first panel it shows most of them hiding behind a wall while the Talons attack. Then the next one has us focusing on Duke and Damian's conversation and fight. This empowering moment is then turned into Duke, a member of the group getting beat up by Damian again.

The kid who we just met gets his time to shine, he's been afraid this entire time so he must get his moment to be brave here. Nope, he didn't defeat the Talon and is about to die, hopefully another member steps in, showing the teamwork and strengths of We Are Robin? No, Damian saves him and tells him he's not Robin.

Finally we reach the last moment of WAR fighting, there's nothing quite as bad as the others but most of the panel is taken up by conversation and we're left with one image. I'm sorry but one image doesn't make up for the countless times they've been mocked in this event.

That's it, that's everything, that's how We Are Robin was portrayed in Robin War and it was absolutely. fucking. horrendous.

I think it's pretty clear that they only saw We Are Robin as an army, a group of people lead to fight others. This should've been obvious to the writers but WAR isn't an army or a gang, it's a movement and a movement is very different. The Robins aren't pawns to send off into battle to fight super villains. They're kids trying to make a difference, they work together to protect others, they inspire others to join and together they can bring change. That's where their strength comes from.

Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian talk lots about what it means to be Robin and they talk a lot about how WAR aren't Robins. From the get go we're more likely to agree with them, they have all been Robin and we're likely way more attached to those characters. None of them really see anything wrong with their words and you never get to see an argument for WAR's opinions on what Robin is. This removes so much nuance, undermines the entire movement and makes everything they're doing seem meaningless.

Another thing that I think is important to mention is in We Are Robin #6 (the last one before Robin War) the team face off against a Talon. Duke gets shot and Riko steps in front of him, fiercely facing them down. After Riko is taken care beaten alongside Duke, Izzy pulls out a gun to defend them and herself. Dre and Dax saw this from blocks away and came running, saving the others and fighting alongside them. All of them run in head first and the versions of them in Robin War almost look like cowards in comparison.

Then we get this amazing internal dialogue and fight scene, I'll let it speak for itself.

In We Are Robin five of them are taking on one Talon and they didn't even defeat them, in Robin War they seem to be able to beat Talons almost singlehandedly. But they still felt so much more powerful in We Are Robin, fighting side by side with each other. It felt impactful and to me, that small victory was infinitely more important than any win seen in Robin War.

It saddens me because if the writers cared a little bit more it could've been good but they didn't and it really shows.