i want damian to bond with tim because tim's the only grave brother he has. like, dick and jason are idiots. they came straight from the golden era and have been through so much bullshit in their lives that the only thing they have going for them is their level of whimsy; so they treat everything like it's a scooby-doo adventure. damian grew up having to be jason's impulse control at the league and by the time he gets to gotham he's so fucking tired. dick isn't any different, because dick takes one look at damian and goes 'yeah this kid hasn't smiled once in the past five years i need to give him a childhood' and he just will not take anything seriously. in damian's mind, dick is just jason if jason was real fuckin' bendy, and damian's so over that.
but tim? fucking- joined the squad to stop batman from killing/suiciding himself on the street? had the deaths of all his loved ones faked as a fucking 16th birthday present? fucking joker junior? yeah tim doesn't have time to fuck around. damian considers tim a rival right up until they're working together on a case and tim says 'ok no messing around if we do this right we can get the job done in three minutes no bullshit,' and damian decides right then and there this is his favourite brother and they will be best friends.
author's note: you guys, the wonka press tour is going to be the death of me. timothee looks so hot and therefore it gave me extra inspiration to finish this little piece.
Regulus Black was first and foremost a gentleman.
Before you started dating, Regulus was adamant about courting you properly. Your boyfriend was a bit old-fashioned that way, but you absolutely adored it. During your first date, Regulus took you out to the fanciest restaurant in town, opened the door for you, pulled out your chair, and didn’t even blink twice before sliding his card down when the check came.
Ever since then, Regulus spoiled you rotten. Every day, he walked you to class, carried your bag and books, and even left sweet little notes for you to find throughout the day. In the eyes of the public, Regulus Black was the picture of the perfect gentleman, but in private, your boyfriend was anything but.
There was a dark side to Regulus. A side that you took great delight in awakening. Tonight, you were more determined than ever to push your boyfriend to his limits.
It was a typical Friday night. You and Regulus were at his dorm for your weekly study date. Except you really weren’t in the mood to study. You were laying on your stomach on his bed, absentmindedly flipping through the potions manual in front of you. The assignment was to translate the text from French, but you hardly had more than a few sentences transcribed on your parchment. You were much too distracted at the moment.
While the manual failed to capture your attention, Regulus did not. Your boyfriend was sitting across the room reading some obscure tome about dark magic. He leaned over the wooden desk, the sleeves of his shirt rolled just past his elbows, which gave you the perfect view of the veins on his forearms. His green and silver tie hung loosely around his neck, exposing the perfectly kissable column of his throat.
Unaware of your ogling, Regulus twirled his wand between his fingers as his features pinched in concentration. Those angelic curls grazed his impossibly high cheekbones, drawing your attention to the smattering of freckles across his nose. As he read, Regulus mouthed the words silently, his lips curving around the vowels in the most delicious way. His green eyes burned intensely, illuminated by the warm glow of the lantern beside him.
Abandoning your assignment, you dragged yourself off of the bed and sidled up behind him. Regulus melted into your touch as you massaged his shoulders. He looked up and the light hit his eyes just right, golden spears bursting through the rich green hues like a kaleidoscope.
Regulus grabbed your chin and dragged your face down to his, planting a sweet kiss against your lips. You hummed against his mouth, eager to deepen the otherwise chaste kiss. You felt him smile at your enthusiasm before he gently tugged at your hair, forcing you to look at him once again.
“Did you finish your translations, my love?’
You shook your head. “No, I think I need a study break.”
Regulus tutted. “Come show me what you’ve done so far and I’ll tell you if you’ve earned one.”
You pouted. It wasn’t very often that Regulus denied your request. Usually, he bent over backwards just to make you happy, so when he didn’t immediately grant you what you wanted, you couldn’t help but act like an absolute brat. Patience had never been your strong suit and Regulus knew that.
Your boyfriend watched with an amused smirk as you retrieved your manual and parchment with a little frown on your face. You set the studying materials down on his desk and crossed your arms.
“Where am I supposed to sit?”
Regulus patted his lap. “Right here is fine, darling.”
He almost chuckled at how quickly your mood brightened after that, but he didn’t want to give himself away. Regulus knew exactly what you wanted and he had every intention of making you work for it. You made yourself right at home on his lap, rubbing your arse against his crotch. He would’ve been embarrassed at how hard he already was underneath you, but Regulus had absolutely no shame when it came to his girl.
“Why don’t you read what you have so far, mon amour?”
You began by reading the ingredients, which listed the main components of the potion. Those were easy enough to translate given that the terms were quite similar in each language. Regulus urged you to continue and you had no choice but to fumble through the instructions, which you had undoubtedly mucked up after getting distracted by him.
“Faire chauffer à feu doux,” you said reluctantly.
Regulus shook his head. “Faire chauffer à feu fort,” he corrected in perfect French.
It was rather pathetic how hot and bothered you were over boiling instructions, but you couldn’t stop squirming at how attractive it was to hear your boyfriend speak the language of love. Regulus bid you to continue, which you did rather distractedly.
You struggled through the next few sentences, pressing your thighs together every time Regulus corrected your pronunciation. “You have to roll your tongue, darling. Like this.”
After Regulus demonstrated by rolling his tongue and sounding out the word flawlessly, your skin felt so hot that you were surprised you hadn’t burst into flames. As you stuttered over the next few sentences, you felt Regulus shuffle underneath you. He slowly unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants. You stopped mid-sentence when he lifted up your skirt.
Regulus slapped your thigh so hard that the action made you jerk in his lap. “I didn’t say you could stop. Keep reading, love.”
“Trancher de la racine aux pointes—“ you stammered lamely through the words as his hands roamed underneath your skirt.
You held your breath as he palmed you through the cotton fabric. Regulus smirked when he felt how wet and needy you were for him. He pulled your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off as he caressed your slit. Coating his index and middle fingers with your arousal, Regulus spread your wetness all along your folds.
A pathetic little whimper escaped your lips. Regulus grabbed your chin and turned you towards him. “I told you to keep reading,” he growled. “Start that section over and don't stop or I’ll make you regret it. Do you understand, princess?”
With a nod, you continued to decipher the next section. Regulus hummed in approval as he lifted your hips. You gripped the parchment as your boyfriend positioned you over his length before thrusting his cock inside of you without warning.
You bit your lip to keep your moan in. “What are you doing, Reg?”
Regulus chuckled darkly. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away with acting like a spoiled fucking brat, did you?” You gasped as he sheathed himself in your warmth, filling you to the hilt and nearly making you squirm with pleasure. “You wanted my cock so I’m giving it to you, but I’m not moving until you finish your assignment.”
The whine that escaped out of you made him smirk. “Now be a good girl so you can get your reward, yeah?”
Your boyfriend stayed true to his word. Every time you translated a phrase correctly, Regulus rewarded you with a slow thrust. He grunted as he drove deeper into you, whispering praises of encouragement in your ear.
“My smart girl,” Regulus declared proudly, littering kisses against your neck. “Keep going, baby. You want more, don’t you?”
The growing need for him distracted you. When you pronounced a word wrong, Regulus pulled all the way out until only his tip teased along your folds. You whimpered at the loss, loathing the hollow and empty feeling it left you with.
Regulus grabbed you by the throat. “Salé means savory, sucré is sweet. I’m disappointed. I know you know this, darling. Let’s refresh.” He pressed his lips against yours and you ached to kiss him, but you knew that he wouldn’t be pleased if you did so without permission. “Say it with me. Salé.”
You swallowed thickly as he spoke the words against your mouth. The smooth way that the word rolled off of his tongue made you clench around him. Regulus smirked as you repeated the word, slightly stuttering while you struggled to stay still.
“Salé.”
“Does it turn you on when I speak French, mon amour?” You nodded silently, not trusting yourself with words at the moment. “I know it does, gorgeous girl. I can tell by the way your pretty little pussy is clenching around my cock. Poor thing, you must be aching to be fucked, aren’t you?”
Tears pricked at your eyes. You wanted him so badly that it actually hurt. Regulus wiped the errant tear away with his thumb. “One more, darling. Surely you can manage.” He tilted your chin up and spoke the last word against your lips. “Sucré.”
“Sucré,” you repeated obediently.
“What does it mean?”
“Sweet.”
“Just like you, pretty girl.” Regulus kissed your cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now you can have your study break.”
You sighed in relief when Regulus finally kissed you. The chaste kiss from earlier was gone. Instead, he claimed your mouth with his tongue, leaving open mouthed kisses that had you tugging at his curls for more. He smiled as you grinded into him, making him grunt in pleasure as you lowered onto his length.
“So eager, aren’t we? Where do you want me, mon amour? Here or on the bed?”
“Neither,” you gasped into his mouth before glancing at the desk behind you.
He chuckled when he realized what you meant. “Is this what you were thinking about, love? Couldn’t focus on your work because you were imagining me bending you over that desk?”
You nodded. “Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Reg. I need you so bad.”
“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you beg.” Regulus shifted and patted your thigh. “Come on, darling. Bend over for me. Let me fuck you on this desk until you cry.”
Regulus watched with lust blown eyes as you bent over the wooden desk. He flipped your skirt up and palmed your ass, the cold bite of his rings sending shivers down your spine. You bit your lip as Regulus loosened his tie. He smirked as he slid it off his neck.
“Put your arms behind your back, mon cœur.”
You eagerly obeyed his command. Regulus pinned your wrists together and bound you with his tie. Pressing your cheek against the wood, he stripped you of your shirt and kissed along your spine. Regulus leaned over and slipped a hand underneath your lacy bra, squeezing your tits as he positioned himself behind you. His other hand guided his cock at your entrance. Regulus slipped in slowly, giving you inch after delicious inch.
“Merde,” Regulus cursed. “You feel so fucking good, princess.”
Once he started moving, you were reduced to a blubbering mess. Regulus was relentless as he fucked you from behind, his fingers digging into your hips while he drove in and out of you. The parchment and quills that were neatly laid out on his desk clattered to the ground with every slam of his hips. The desk rattled against the wall while he fucked you into oblivion.
You pressed your cheek against the wood, the sound of your moans bouncing off the walls while you begged for more. “Baise-moi fort, Regulus.”
Regulus hissed, thrusting into you with force just like you asked. The line between pain and pleasure blurred. Warm tears coated your cheeks as he pushed your body to the limit. Regulus pulled your hair and tugged him towards you for a sloppy kiss. Your legs shook underneath you as he slapped your ass. You could feel the imprint of his rings brand itself into your skin. He timed his thrusts with each smack, making you wetter and wetter by the second.
He brushed your hair back, kissing your cheek. Regulus placed his hand on your stomach and pressed down just as he rutted into you. “Feel that, princess? This is what I think about all day. Burying myself so deep inside you that you can’t even form words.” You babbled in response, whatever words you were trying to form came out entirely incoherent. “Have I fucked you dumb, darling? You should know better than to ask me to fuck you harder. You know I have no control when it comes to you, Y/N.”
You cried as he slammed into you. “S’too much, Reggie. I—I can’t take anymore—“
Regulus only laughed. “That’s too fucking bad, princess. You begged like a whore, so you get fucked like one too.” He licked a stripe against your neck before leaving love bites on every surface of your skin.
There was nothing your boyfriend loved more than claiming your body like this. He smiled as you whimpered, knowing that you’d be marked and bruised for days to come. Though your cheeks were stained with tears, Regulus knew you could take more. Your body told him everything he needed to know. The way you fluttered around him indicated that you were close. He was definitely pushing your limit, but Regulus had a habit of coaxing you out of your comfort zone to provide the most mind-blowing orgasms that you’ve ever experienced.
“Cum for me, mon amour.”
White hot heat surged through your veins. You moaned his name while the orgasm crested like a wave, washing over your body like a biblical flood. For a second, it felt like your soul had left your body entirely. The phrase la petite mort flashed in your mind. The little death, the French called it.
Just when you thought that the high was finally leveling out, Regulus picked you up and placed you on the desk. He untied your wrists before kneeling between your legs. Regulus smirked as he kissed along the inside of your thighs. Those pretty eyes flashed with mischief as he bit into your flesh.
“Hang on, pretty girl. I’m not done with you yet.”
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Regulus lapped up your arousal. He kissed and sucked at your wet cunt like they were hauling him off to Azkaban at any given moment. Your boyfriend grunted when you tugged at his luscious curls, utterly turned on by your roughness. When Regulus looked up at you through thick, dark lashes with his mouth dripping with your cum, you couldn’t help but shiver at the sight.
You loved seeing Regulus like this. You loved knowing that only you could awaken this dark and dangerous side of him.
“Oh god, Reg,” you keened, arching against his mouth. “Fuck, I love you.”
Regulus hummed in approval, spelling out his initials against your folds. The curve of R.A.B. branded itself into your core in the most erotic way possible. The message was clear. You belonged to Regulus and Regulus alone.
As he worked, Regulus pumped himself between his fingers. You could feel him edging towards release just as a second orgasm washed over you. Regulus looked up when you tugged at his hair.
“Don’t cum yet, baby,” you said hoarsely. “Not until you’re inside me again.”
“Mon dieu, you kill me when you say things like that.” Regulus hissed as he wrapped your legs around his waist. The groan that escaped his lips as he slipped inside of you again was downright vulgar. “My filthy fucking girl. I love being inside of you.”
You whimpered in response, bringing him closer as he pounded into you again and again. “I love when you fill me up, Reg. You’re the only one who can make me feel like this. You’re the only one who can fuck me like I need. Gods, you’re perfect.”
“You feel so fucking good,” Regulus whispered against your lips. “Gods, I’m so close.”
“I know, Reggie. I know.” You kissed him, sighing as you canted your hips to match his rhythm. “I want to feel you cum inside of me, pretty boy.”
Regulus grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy and desperate. Your words sent him over the edge and he came with a gasp, biting into your shoulder to keep himself from waking up the dungeons. You held him as the orgasm seized his body, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and following the praise with adoring kisses.
Your heart warmed as he gazed lovingly up at you. He pulled out slowly, peppering kisses all over your face but never taking his eyes off of you. The way Regulus looked at you made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.
“Reg?” you murmured.
“Yes, my love?”
“I think I like studying after all.” Regulus chuckled against your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “You’re excellent at inspiring motivation.”
“Anything for you, mon amour. I was a goner the second you called me pretty boy.”
“Is that so?” You teased, kissing the tip of his nose. “Well, you are, you know. You’re my pretty boy.”
“Don’t say that unless you’re ready for another round.”
“I’m always ready for you, Reggie. I can’t get enough.”
Regulus picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed. “Je t'aime de tout mon cœur, my cheeky girl.”
“I love you too, Regulus Arcturus Black.” You smiled and kissed his temple. “With all my heart.”
There are many mysteres in Gotham. One of them is what the hell is wrong with the third Robin.
Over time even the rogues became to notice how weird everything about Red Robin was.
Drugs didn't work on him. Not unless they gave him enough to OD. Even then he was sluggish, but not completely out of it.
Fear toxin was not an exception. Sure, he saw Ra's or his "parents" or Daddy Joker or even Batman during his grieving period but he didn't loose touch with reality. He was hallucinating but it might as well be nothing. It drove Scarecrow mad. It pushed him to perfect the toxin time and again, to no avail. Red Robin was (mostly) unaffected.
Ridder was presented a riddle he cannot solve. The third Robin was always playing along and solving his riddles but he remain unscathed from the traps. No matter how comlcated, no matter how deadly.
Penguin's deals, if they are about extremely dangerous things, are always ruined by the third bird just stalking out of the shadows in a room, that was proven clear minutes before.
Two-Face's coin always lands on its side when Tim is concerned. As if fate itself doesn't dare do something to the boy.
Poison Ivy figured out deathcamma, hemlock and certain nightshades (or any other plants that are poisonous to jackals) and Red Robin do not mix. It was the closest situation to death anyone has seen him in. Ivy is, to this day, the only one that knows about that.
Joker...
Joker is terrified.
After his attempt to make a son out of Robin, after he failed, after the bird was safe in the nest, he had gotten a visitor. He was in his hideout, planning the next attack, when the room became freezing cold. It reminded him of a morgue, but... it was somehow colder. It was freezing his very soul. Or whatever version of it he had.
Joker was not familiar with fear. Sure, he felt psycotic happiness, rage, annoyance, but fear was not something that he experienced often, if at all.
As he was looking around, trying to get sense of what was happening, he saw shadows moving, growing, shaping into a silhouette. But the more it formed, the clearer it became - that thing was not human. Neither did it took the shape of one.
For the first time in a long time the Joker had no smart remarks, no quips, no jokes. The thing began to speak in a language that didn't sound anything close to human. After it saw that it wasn't being understood it paused for a second then began speaking again.
"You have hurt something of mine." The voice sounded as if it were composed of millions of voices, young and old, whispering and shouting. "Someone I hold dear."
The Joker kept quiet. He wasn't sure what would come out if he tried.
"Do you have nothing to say?"
"I..." Was it normal for the mouth to be this dry? The Joker did not know. "I have hurt many people." He tried his usual act - the arrogant psychopath for whom everything was a joke. It sounded hollow.
"I am aware. Many of them I've met in passing."
"N-not a lot survived." That came out more afraid than threathening.
"I have met those who didn't."
Joker gulped. Then began to think. Then came to the realization that this made no sense.
"Who... what are you?"
"Unfortunately, those questions will remained unanswered. At least until we meet again."
"When should I expect that?"
"When your time comes. No sooner. No later."
"W-what if I hurt that someone again?"
At that the creature's eyes snapped towards him. Or he thought so, since he couldn't exactly see them.
"You should hope not. For then I shall not be as merciful."
At that, the Joker laughed. He laughed so much he doubled over.
"Ha! If this speech is all you do now, I cannot even immagine what you'll do when- ha! Should I be scared? Oh, no. I should call my pal, the Bat. He would protect me."
The thing tilted its head.
"I wouldn't be so sure. He failed to protect mine." It snarled then stopped to look the mad man infront. "Do not be mistaken. I am not here only to speak."
A frown appeared at Joker's face, but then the laughter came back.
Hey, this shouldn't hurt.
It should be funny.
This time, however, the laughter did not stop. Not when it wasn't funny anymore. Not when his lungs started to strain. Not when his knees gave out from the force of the laughter and lack of oxygen. Not when tears started streaming down his face. Not when he slit his throat. Not when the blood pooled beneath him.
So much of it. And yet...
Not enough.
Huh.
He should have died by now.
He should have...
He shouldn't be laughing. Is this what his precious Joker Venom did? Why is he affected? He shouldn't be.
This isn't fair!
Still laughing, still dizzy, still hurting, still bleeding, Joker looked up. The creature was still here, though it seemed to be closer now. It leveled with him and just kept watching.
Laughter was still pouring out of the clown's mouth, but there seemed to be a word he was trying to say.
After watching him struggle, the thing before him finally spoke up.
"What? A joke caught your voice?"
Hey, the Joker thought, this isn't funny.
"Is there something you wish to say?"
The Joker tried again and again, but no word came out. His mouth was dry, his lips starting to split from the effort.
"What was that?"
"P - Please..."
"Please what?"
"Make it stop."
"Make what stop?"
"The pain."
"It hurts?"
All that answered him was a whine.
"Plea-"
"Did he beg?"
"Wh- Who?"
"My son."
"I- I don't-"
"Robin. Did he beg when you tried to make him yours?"
If it was possible the Joker would have paled.
There was no way that thing was Robin's father.
"I- I am sor- ry."
"I am not."
The laughter was still not ending, the blood still poured, the pain was becoming unbearable and...
And the there was nothing.
When Joker woke up, he was in Arkham, in chains. This time, he didn't start plotting to escape right away. This time his laugh didn't haunt the halls of that godforsaken asylum. For a long time there were no more cruel jokes in his blood, but chill and fear in his bones.
And when he got out he didn't go after Robin. At least not until the next one came. He poked and provoked the bats, but as soon as the third bird showed up, he fled. He didn't dare harm him again. And in the quiet nights, when he had fooled himself that there is nothing to worry, he saw a silhouette. Never again was it this close, but it was there. To remind him. To watch him. To judge him.
VERY IMPORTANT! I have not consumed a single media about the Queens. This is based on pure imagination. Why I choose the Queens, we will never know... Excuse the mischaracterization. If you don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that.
Enjoy!
"So, yeah. That is about it."
"I am sorry. You have been out in the field for months and you told no one about your missing spleen?!" B sounded at the verge of a heart attack.
"It's in my medical file. I update it every time something happens." At that Oliver snorted.
"You update your file?" Tim rolled his eyes.
"Fine. You update it. Same thing. " Dinah looked as if she was going to argue, so Tim kept going. "Moving on. Um... Yeah, you guys didn't have to come all the way here. I know that you were at the zoo and the hospital is, like, halfway across the city. I already told you that I won't be able to patrol for the next three days because I was going away, so this wouldn't have affected anything."
"We were worried about you, baby bird." Jason said softly.
"Oh." Tim looked surprised, as if he hadn't even thought of that. As if he thought they wouldn't care. That realization hurt more than anything.
Roy sent Jason a strained smile and moved to hug Tim. The silence was filled with so much anguish that no one knew what to do.
In the end, Conner spoke up.
"Well, he is mostly fine. You need not worry." he paused for a moment as if wondering whether to keep talking. "His family is with him."
Damian knew words can hurt more than a blade. He was rather skiled in that department. And yet, no training could have stopped that blow.
He cleared his throat and looked straight at Timothy.
"I expect that this will not affect our usual Friday meetings. I have found out that your style of music is... acceptable."
Tim's face beamed at that.
"I wouldn't dare miss it. Though it won't be face to face."
"I will remember this for next time."
"Friday meetings? What do you two even talk about?" Dick seemed to want to keep going but then a different thought crossed his mind. "Hang on. Do the two of you... get along?"
"Yeah..." Steph jumped in "Since when?"
"Since I was able to swallow my pride and realised that I don't... dislike Timothy. That my resentment came from jealousy, not superiority. Also since he is always down to... help me hide another pet. And the fact that he is a far more of a dangerous foe than I thought."
"Oh, well, that is great. It so nice that you are finally getting along. " Bruce started. Then the words finally sank in. "I am sorry, he is helping you with what?"
"Not important." Tim chimed in. "Be glad that it is over now."
"I am, of course I am, but you can't just - "
"Can't just what?" Oliver spoke up, glaring at Bruce. "Bond? Move past trauma? Be siblings?"
"That is not - "
"Of course it isn't. That would be unacceptable." he looked at his watch. "Oh, look at the time. We have to get home. We have a family dinner planned." At that, Oliver turned around, gathered his youngest's things and helped him get up.
"We wouldn't want to overstay our welcome."
Five minutes later, everyone was ready to go. Bruce stood at the side with Oliver and watched his kids say goodbye to Tim.
"You know he is always welcome at my home, right?" Bruce asked. "He is as much my kid as the rest of them. Nothing would harm him."
"Nothing but you." Oliver hissed. "If you weren't so stubborn after Jason died and asked for help dealing with your grief, this wouldn't have happened. If you didn't go berserk, he wouldn't have felt obliged to become Robin. If you hadn't trained him as if he is nothing more than a vesselfor your cause, he wouldn't feel as if he is expandable. If you hadn't sent him away, he wouldn't have caught Shiva's attention. If you hadn't done what you did at his sixteenth birthday, you wouldn't have felt as if he couldn't trust us when you were lost in time. If your kids weren't... if they'd trusted him about you being alive he wouldn't have had to go to Ra's . Then he would still have his spleen. Then Paris wouldn't have happened. Then there wouldn't be flowers and gifts sent to my house, because Ra's wants him as an heir and as a - Then that pedophile wouldn't be pining after my underage son." he snarled.
"I don't want him here, because he doesn't feel welcome here. Because he isn't safe here. Because he everytime he s is here, he come back more broken and begs me to prove to him that he isn't unlovable, that while he is broken, it isn't beyond repair."
"I don't want him here because every time he comes back I have to lock every window, to hide every sharp object in case you have pushed him to the edge. I- " Oliver physically stopped himself from continuing. "I refuse to let him - because you can't see that you are - " he laughed humourlessly. "Do you have any idea how long it took for him to trust us? And every time he does, you ruin it." he stopped again and took a deep breath. "No, Bruce, if I have a say in it, Tim will not be alone in yourcity again. Thank God for Cass and Helena and Selena... and now Duke and Damian, because if they didn't put my son's life above your mission, we would be seeing each other way more."
"Dad!" Tim ran up to them. "Everything good to go?"
Oliver beamed "Of course, sweetheart. Lets' go home."
He took Tim's hand, led him to the others and then the Queens were off.
Neither Tim nor Oliver looked back.
Bruce stood there, frozen, even as his family came to him. He vowed then and there, that he would make things right. That he would make his son feel at home. And he knew that rest felt the same.
Actually no I’m not done talking about the Drake suit because where the FUCK did Tim get it? They were in the middle of a fight. Did he sew it? Did he just grab a random costume someone left in the cave? If so, who’s was it? I need answers, Timothy.
I need a fic where it's obviously been some time since Damian came to Gotham, and his healing journey is going great. He is unlearning toxic behaviour, socializing, and being so, so loved because he's a child and it's what he deserves.
Now. There is one development Damian wasn't ready for. One he is not handling well.
Tim...is cool.
Like. Really cool.
The man's detective skills are on par with their Father's– hell, Tim is so intelligent that he had managed to capture his Grandfather's attention. Tim is brave and has amazing friends and a team and Richard looks at him like he hung the moon. Tim knows so much about cars and he skateboards and he has a great love life and he is cool.
(A smaller part of Damian is also in awe of Tim's compassion; he manages to care for both him and Jason, looks at them as his brothers, despite the fact that they both hurt him deeply.)
Damian is horrified every time he feels the desire to hang out with Tim. But like, he really wants to. He wants to patrol with him, and he wants to work on cases with him, and he wants to go to the movies with him, and he wants to ask his advice on stuff like dating.
And he tries! God knows he tries. But Tim is not...getting with the program.
Basically, it doesn't register to Tim that Damian asking to spar ten times in a row is Damian wanting his attention. He doesn't think that when Damian insults his apartment, it's his way of trying to get Tim to spend the night at the Manor. And he definitely doesn't get that when Tim is animatedly talking to Dick, Damian is upset because Tim is always talking to Dick, but he never talks to Damian.
Damian would really just like to stop wanting to spend time with stupid Drake of all people.
Headcanon that Tim just grows the tallest out of the Bats almost overnight. Tim is now like an inch taller than Jason. Damian is having a meltdown because he was "catching up" (he was not). Dick keeps chuckling and making "little brothers" jokes. Duke is just enjoying Jason spiralling and adding lifts into his boots. Tim doesn't even clock it, his brothers are just being weird as usual though Damian seems to really be losing it this time because he's walking around in boots that Tim is pretty sure that Sabrina Carpenter would wear on tour.
Bruce, tired as fuck from patrol, just frowns at Tim when the Bats are gathered for post-patrol cereal in the kitchen at 5am and being like "the fuck did that happen?"
Isn't the whole concept of the Guardians that the more people believe in them the stronger they are?
And what he did against Pitch Black right after the Sandy died? That was before anyone believed in him.
And when he was in that ice cave/cliff and fixed his staff. I think this is the equivalent of if Sandy was able to turn the Nightmares back into Dreams. (Which I think he didn't do, it was the kids that did it.)
There is so much raw potential and power in him. And they could have addressed that in a sequel or in any way. All that they did was for North to ask him how was he able to do that and they left it at that.
Imagine Kon having dinner with the Batfam for the first time after making things official with Tim. He's prepared for the overprotective dad and siblings talk from Batman and co. Nightwing and Red Hood are chill so Kon isn't worried about them. Sitting across a kid with a sword isn't something he predicted but he's pretty sure Damian just wants to test his strength and the kid won't do anything to Jon's brother. Cas is standing in the corner, watching him without a word, but that's a typical bat family thing.
What Kon was not prepared for is the butler with a shotgun. When Kon enters the living room to wait for Tim, Alfred is there casually cleaning a shotgun. He tells him stories from the military days and his medals. When Alfred tells Damian to put away the sword and go do his homework, the kid actually listens to him. Kon is certain that Batman is not the scariest person in the manor.
But the entire time, Alfred adores Kon as an honourary son-in-law already. He has heard from Tim how much Kon has done for him. Alfred wants to make Kon feel at home in Wayne Manor. He's just very British with how he does things.
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