If Tim was the bat bro Damian got attached too, instead of Dick
Imagine it; Damian shows up to the Manor, full of ego and insecurity and ready to fight for his place in the family, and it's Dick he zeroes in on
The first son. The golden boy. The Batman successor. Beloved by the batfamily and the heroes. Perfect and good. Damian wants to prove he's the best choice of successor, the better son, and tries to kill him. And it's Tim who catches him and stops him. Tim puzzles it out and defected his attempts before he can truly do any damage and Damian...is intrigued
The attempts get less serious as Damian starts to respect Tim's skills and smarts and, when watching him crack a case all by himself that even Bruce was struggling with, decides that Tim will be his new mentor
Tim is confused by this change of heart but, hey, the kid is actually pretty smart and picks up on the stuff Tim tests him with. And maybe lonely Tim Drake who grew up with distant parents who only remembered he was there when they wanted to show off, and pushed himself into the mansion with the hope of something even slightly better, feels something for the kid
Dick is very conflicted, he wants to be closer to Damian but Damian hates him and Dick kind of doesn't like him either and it makes him feel bad
Steph thinks it's so cute and Jason has to go conveniently missing for a few weeks because Damian just learnt about his break in at the tower. Now he's debating if he should pick up his sword to defend Tim's honour and place in this little family of three he's made
Bruce wishes the boys could just get along at once, but he won't lie and say he's not secretly relieved that his youngest doesn't hate his second youngest. He's actually quite proud that Damian has gotten protective of Tim, he's developing his empathy
I think we should do another blackout like we did with shapes.inc but for the new update
Does anyone know any large blogs I can tag in this? I'll edit this to tag who I can remember and who I'm reminded of. If anyone would like to be removed as well, please let me know and I will. Refer to the original post when reblogging as well.
A lot of people are making pillowfort accounts, I'd recommend doing so in case this doesn't go away.
I think this time we should do it on the 18th, and make it last 48 hours.
@not-offical-offical @the-bone-eating-vulture tagging you both so you can tag the siblings, I'd tag them but then I wouldn't have enough tag space for larger blogs.
@laciffo-natas @satan-offical
I've officially stopped getting notes for other people's interactions through reblogs with this. If you want to contact me directly, interact with the original post, or send me an ask.
Tagging my creative writing Tag,ist because this is a slaughter and art will be the first to die.
TAGLIST: @girl-with-bones @sunflowerrosy @same-skies @nightmaricwriter @hijabi-flavored-nerd @rmieve @blob-blobsworld @vesanal @the-ellia-west @entity56 @sittinginstars @keeping-writing-frosty @philanthropicalsundog @an-indecisive-nerd @corinneglass @luleck @carefully-lowlifeing @the-enhanced-project @mira-kairos @willtheweaver @iforgiveyousunny @elronthemage @sporeofmanynames
Summoning as many people as I can, sorry if you're tagged and we've never interacted before, I think it's really important. I also tag to tell people where I'll be.
@hoshi-no-koinu, @dakshii, @cassiavioletblue, @a-couple-of-no-good-weeks, @assortedcriminality, @soosmain (to spread the news to the warhammer fandom, sorry we've never interacted before not even the same fandom, love your art btw), @cesspitoflove, @reekatillion, @asch-3it, @ruins-of-a-lover, @writing-prompt-s, @lemonlimekodkod, @the-modern-typewriter, @neon-kazoo, @creativepromptsforwriting, @bloodiedbriars, @befuddled-calico-whump, @whooooomp, @whumpsoda, @moth-in-a-hat, @mythos-night, @foundfamilywhump
@yourlocalfandomfriendo, I don't know how many reblogs you see, but the message is being spread.
i dont know that many people but i can assure that you will not catch me dead on tumblr from the 18th-20th
im gonna be tagging as many people and communities as i can, excuse me for my current (lack of) etiquette and manners
People with relatively big followings that i do not interact with (sorry again but pls spread the word if it isnt too much trouble)
@bamsara @robs-your-robins @occasionalauthoring @kandavers @laserbobcat @chwylaven @theonewhowanks (especially sorry to u, i know u dont really like venturing out but if you feel comfortable pls reblog) @acis-arts @maibel-mai @foresthouseowo @nifaux @a-tomsk @vicaly @nufflesdoodles @stychu-stych @aveloka-draws @devi-dizz @izzyhandsdeservedbetter @brucedefender4eva @chacarro @ashenquill @springbon-t-art @moringmark
Thank you for notifying me on this. Apologies in advance to my beautiful followers (maybe some of you have been tagged already?), but let's help spread this along if you all know anyone else. Thank you, my loves. 💛
I ran out of mentioning room, but thank you to any followers that help repost (unless you did so already, then great job!) Please, no pressure to do anything, I just thought that I'd recruit help. 💛
Tim: what do you mean I summoned an asexual incubus?!
Bruce, passing his sons room:
Bruce rubs his face as he knows as about to regret going in there. He opens the door.
Tims standing in the center of a pentagram as he’s shoving the head of a demon back into a portal. He freezes as he sees his father. Behind, John Constantine’s sitting on a bean bag skimming through Dicks Diary.
Bruce twitches.
Bruce: John.
John, licking his finger as he turns pages: ohh, naughty Richard.
John sets the book down as Tim gives a final push sending the demon back.
John: Brucie.
Bruce, gritting his teeth now: did you help my son summon an incubus.
John snorts at the suggestion.
John: of course not.
John: I taught him.
Bruce: johhhhn!
John: I don’t see the problem.
Tim: I do.
Tim: I see it clearly now.
Tim reaches across the floor into a pan of red liquid Bruce doesn’t want to know where it came from. He goes and adds to a rune making the pentagram glow. There’s a pop and a body lands on the floor nude.
Roy Harper lays there. He sees Tim and winks. Tim squeals hugging him.
Tim, whispering: he’s perfect. Can I keep him Master John?
John shrugs: sure.
Bruce:
Bruce: clarrrk! Get in here before I commit murder!
yayyyy happy ending~ idk if my point is coming across but current Tim got deaged to the time he wished the bedmonster would adopt him or smth along those lines...
It was fun actually working on smth with a lil more plot 🕺🕺🕺
Obsessed with the idea of people just adding 1 + 1 and getting 3 when it comes to Dick as a child, hanging out with Clark and Bruce. Because let's be honest, Dick is a carbon copy of Bruce and Clark.
Neighbour: That little slugger you got there is really something.
Pa Kent: Yeah, he's a cutie.
Neighbour: Takes after your boy, I was just telling the wife that the kid is literally the spitting image of Clark at that age.
Pa Kent: Well actually -
Clark: *bending down to high five Dick for hitting a home run*
Pa Kent, squinting: You don't say.
Barry: I don't know, it has to be some sort of Kryptonian magic biology or some weird tech but Robin is clearly-
Oliver: Oh, come on, Allen, that's not-
Clark, walking into the room sith Dick sat on his shoulders: You just worry too much, Bruce.
Bruce: I just don't consider Funions as a health snack for a growing boy.
Clark: Nag, nag, nag, am I right, Dick?
Dick: *giggling*
Olivier: Yeah... I get what you mean, Kent totally put that bun in that oven.
Alfred, on the phone: The little fella has chicken pox but there's no need to worry Mrs Kent. He should be right as rain in a few days.
Ma Kent: It's so odd, Clark was never sick as a child.
Alfred: Not to dismiss you, Mrs Kent but what does Master Kent's medical history have to do with Master Dick?
Ma Kent: Well, he's his son for a start.
Alfred:
Ma Kent:
Alfred: oh my god I thought it was just me.
Ma Kent: I'm sure Clark and Bruce will admit it soon, they're just taking their time. But it's obvious.
Alfred: Of course, Dick is the literal image of Master Bruce at that age.
Ma Kent: Are you kidding? He's the spit of my Clark. Now, focus, Alfred, does our grandson have a fever?
"Batman, I need-stop pointing your batarang at me it's just me-I need a favor."
I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS OR THEIR WORLDS. I DO NOT INTEND TO MAKE MONEY WITH THIS POST. IF THIS POST IS ON TIKTOK, INSTAGRAM, YOUTUBE, OR ANYTHING OTHER THAN TUMBLR I DID NOT CONSENT TO THAT.
Batman does not stop pointing his batarang at the woman in front of him. He has no idea who she is, even if she did allude that he should.
She picks up on it and lets out a pained sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Or rather, she rubs where the nose connector to her goggles is, as she's wearing a blue hazmat suit and it's a little impossible to see her full face.
"I sent you letters," she says, exasperated. "Did you not get the letters?"
He had gotten the letters, actually; threatening ramblings clearly indicating that they knew who he was, what he was, and where all of his children were.
The woman adjusted so that her hands were on her hips, and Batman thought it was a little unfair that it felt like he was about to be scolded.
"Jack messed up writing the letters again, didn't he?"
"...What were they supposed to say?" Batman asks, needing further information.
"You know how to wrangle high energy kids that insist on being heroes," the woman explains, starting to pace. "I have a high energy son that insists on being a hero, and he's got the power set to back it up. That same power set makes any attempts we do to stop him meaningless, and we've moved to Gotham, so I'd rather not have my son unsupervised."
Batman isn't sure what this has to do with him. He tells her as much.
"Jack and I have agreed that in instances like this, we should ask for help, but since we don't have family that's willing or able to assist, we need someone else, someone that's trustworthy, unlike Vlad," she points at Batman, and he finds that the batarang he'd unknowingly lowered comes up again in a defensive position. "And you have experience with helping raise a meta child vigilante, we've seen it with Signal. So, we clearly need a third parent! We need you to adopt our son and become his second father!"
"This is a terrible idea," Batman says. "Any child I've taken under my wing has died..."
Can DC stop giving us little bits of Kid Jon, only to have him turn back into an adult in the end? You've worn us out, so just make a clean break and stop rubbing salt on wounds
Tim Drake remembers the first time he realized Daniel "Danny" Fenton wasn't entirely human. It had been four hours after they met.
Danny had been hired as a temporary employee at W.E. for the Gotham Knights Initiative- a smaller project to get at risk kids school supplies, school uniforms, school fees and a meal plan. This project, though large and new, was a once-a-year event and thus a full time team was not needed.
Danny had been hired as a bookkeeper whose primary job was to keep an eye on the budget and purchases. Tim had encountered him while making a trip to the staff room for a quick cup of coffee. Before this, the two had been introduced at the staff meeting earlier that morning, though it had been fast and formal, so he didn't have much of an opinion about Danny beyond "new guy who checks my company's signs."
All in all, Danny had been rather forgettable, from his plain face to his cheap suit, until the break room.
Danny had been pumping various syrups into his cup from the flavor cart Tim had insisted on when he arrived. His argument for that flavor cart was that employees could make their own flavored coffee on W.E.'s dime instead of dropping seven or eight dollars at some Cafe chain. The real reason was so that Tim didn't have to walk to a nearby cafe or send someone to get it for him.
Tim lingered, debating if he should greet the other, when Danny took the first sip of his coffee. At once, a purr filled the room, taking Tim by surprise so much so that he forgot to even announce his presence, just watching the other man with fascination as the purrring got louder. Danny leaned back on the counter, eyes closed in bliss as his chest rumbled with the noise.
The sound cut off abruptly when Tim pushed the door open completely, and Danny shot him a look of panic. This told Tim that Fenton did not want anyone knowing he could make that noise. So he pretends he never heard it.
"Morning" He said instead, smiling in a polite way as he walked towards the coffee pot "New batch?"
"Yes" Danny gulped, knuckles white from how hard he gripped his mug. Their conversation was quick and polite, just a bit off, but not enough to be considered tense. Neither was familiar enough with the other to have a full-blown conversation. Tim left with his mug of flavored coffee in three minutes, ears straining for more purs but none came.
By the time Tim made it down the hallway, up the elevator, and sat down at his desk, he knew the bookkeeper was nonhuman, likely hiding it. He also knew it didn't matter, and he continued his work.
A week later, Tim found Danny working after hours, apparently trying to correct a mistake on the number of pencil cases ordered that an intern had made and accidentally went over budget, meaning Danny had to create multiple grant appeals. As he was typing away aggressively on the wireless keyboard, a soft growl, like that of a canine, built up in the back of his throat. It made the hairs on Tim's arm stand, but otherwise, he ignored it. He merely grabbed a pack of copy paper from the supply cabinet, the reason he had wandered remotely close to Danny's work area and went on his way.
Tim filed the new noise away in a mental slot he reserved for Fenton, but found no reason to worry about it. He knew many people who were meta-human and aliens (and, honestly, anything in between or beyond) who hid a similar secret. As long as Danny wasn't bothering anyone, Tim saw no reason to bother him.
Nearly three weeks passed before Tim heard another unusual sound from his temporary employee. This one was not animalistic, but it sounded like a broken beeper going off as the man desperately tried to stop a bout of hiccups. Other employees checked the fire alarms, a few times convinced that a battery had to be changed somewhere, while Danny slouched in his chair, looking red-faced and clamping one hand over his mouth.
With each slight spasm of his chest a slight sharp beep rang out from below Danny's fingers. Tim wondered how no one had noticed he was making the sound, as the entire room of fully grown adults searched for the fire alarm that needed changing.
A ticket was even placed into facilities t9 come up and check the systems while Danny slipped away, claiming a sudden upset stomach. Tim watched him leave, sipping his lavender-flavored coffee and adding the new noise to his mental file.
The real kicker was one month and two weeks after Fenton was hired. Tim had stayed late one night to catch up on work that had piled up during a long case, and he had forgotten to inform the rest of the temporary employees of his plan. This meant that Danny had assumed he was the last one in the building, so he started blasting music while he worked.
Tim could hear the bass of the music from his office; he couldn't make out the words, but the noise was loud enough to get through the floor, letting him know it was rock. After a few hours of it, curiosity got the best of him, and he wandered down to the second floor to see what the song or band was.
The second the elevator door dinged open, his ears were assaulted by the loud, blasting music of Ember Mclain (a pop-rock singer who dominated the charts for months and vanished without a trace) and a second-louder electric guitar. Thinking an employee had brought an instrument to work, playing it instead of working, Tim had marched into the work area for the Gotham Knight, intending to hand out a verbal warning.
What he found was Danny Fenton, playing an air guitar but producing the sound with his mouth. He danced around his desk, eyes closed and completely engrossed with the music that he did not notice Tim standing at the doorway, dumbfounded.
As Fenton moved his head back and forth in a classic headbang, Tim watched as his hair slowly turned pure snow-white and the electric guitar noise grew louder and louder, overpowering the music. Eventually, Danny got lost in a rock solo that had nothing to do with the song, waving his arms against an instrument that wasn't there and rocking his tush back and forth like a man possessed by the power of rock.
Tim almost clapped, but stopped himself in time, as he carefully backed away and returned to his office.
When he sat back down at his desk, muttering the same song under his breath, Tim knew what Fenton was.
A mimic.
Likely a half-breed.
It made sense why Fenton flinched so much whenever Tim offered him a handshake. He made a mental note to stop wearing his pure-silver rings and switch to something more sensible.
He had plenty of gold and rubies that needed to be pulled out of storage.
