#dedicated tim drake

[batfambyval]

Okay here’s the thing I’m really annoyed about concerning Tim Drake:

He didn’t remain CEO in more than name. He let Lucius take care of everything he just used the position to create his Neon Knights initiative. He isn’t running WE. He is however running NK. He’s traveling around the world setting up NK locations in cities with lots of at risk youth. He’s not running a Fortune 500 company he’s running a non-profit charity organization dedicated to protecting kids and getting more people on a stable path earlier in life. He isn’t out here dealing with rich, white, assholes so he can make money for himself! He’s doing it to better the world, he’s doing it for education and a safe environment for kids around the world! And he is facing a lot of resistance from the rest of the rich and powerful. He is endearing himself to no one in the business world because his ultimate goal is to dethrone them all by fixing the wage gap. He wants people to have choices so the rich and powerful can’t exploit them as easily.

Tim Drake is not a business man. He has the skills, the ruthlessness and the determination but not the desire. He uses his status and money to help people in need. And it’s a more realistic way of helping the world. You can’t just throw money at problems and expect them to go away. Donating money doesn’t help nearly as much as using money to create systems that help people get the skills and opportunities they need. It takes dedicated work and meticulous oversight and it’s not something that can be done casually. It’s a commitment, not a hobby. The world is to fucked up for any easy fixes. But Neon Knights is a great idea, a long term solution if done correctly. I’ve always thought that fixing education and making sure everyone has equal opportunity from a young age would fix a lot of the issues in the world. More educated people making smarter decisions, more diversity because everyone’s success in entirely merit based. Anyway I’m getting off track. Point is, Tim isn’t some business man with charitable contributions here and there. He’s dedicated his civilian life to the long term benefit of society. He’s not a slacker or a full time vigilante. He’s out there building an entirely new system, a global network of people and locations dedicated solely to helping kids have better futures.

#tim drake #dc #red robin #tim drake wayne #neon knights #not even a tag!? #ceo tim drake #only in name #charity #character analysis #canon #philanthropy #economics #i wish this wasn’t fictional #realistic solutions #dedicated tim drake #tim drake is a genius #and a good person #tiffany fox #she’s also heavily involved #red robin comics #canon vs fanon #seriously this is so much better! #why is the fandom sitting on this!? #batman #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #dcu

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to! #this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol. #faer fic

[starvinginbelair]

this tim drake panel in particular!!!

#picked up tt’s nightwing vol 1 and am revisiting it because it was one of the first arcs i’d ever read #of course now i see the problems with it but like i still adore the art and miss the feeling of dedicating myself to a series #for the first time #i also picked up a physical version of the whole dark crisis series and god #god is it beautiful #i really want to go back to my local comic book store soon but we’ll see when i have time #just the feeling of like holding the physical media is like no other though #obsessed with it tbh #q speaks #q reads comics #tim drake #dc comics

[rusomnia]

just saying jason todd probably wrote batman fanfic as both a form of therapy and karma

my evidence:

- he's a lit nerd. every lit nerd has written fanfiction at somepoint. if you're a lit nerd and you haven't, you're a liar or you will be writing fanfiction soon. be ready.

- you're a liar if you think the batfam didn't have a giant fandom in gotham city (and other cities that had batman shipped with their hero (metropolis im looking at you))

- he'd get to tear the shit out of batman with well thought out arguments against stuff without actually having to try and make bruce listen

- the authors notes.

- 'sorry i haven't updated in two years, i got blown up resurrected and turned into an assassin by my step-mum. here's some fluff as an apology'

- i feel like i could go on for a while but I'll leave it there

#also as the ultimate bat fanboy tim defo read it #absolutely dedicated #kudosed #bookmarked #saved #mans wrote paragraphs in the comment section #he has no idea jasons the author and jason has no idea tim is his dedicated reader batboy1234 #tim has a moment of clarity when it updats for the first time in years #the bats were always written oddly well #barbara both knows about the fics and who wrote them shes just watching this happen #Jason's the mskingbeans89 of the batfamily fandom #everyone lives/nobody dies (except the joker) #jason todd #batboys #tim drake #dcu #batfam #red hood

[celaenaeiln]

something i’d love to see more of is angsty rebellious teenage dick grayson. i don’t know why i enjoy the trope but the image of dick “golden boy” grayson getting plastered with roy as he slowly sinks into depression before somewhat getting his shit together is an interesting picture

also he just seems like the guy to get impulsive piercings. dunno why

oooh yeah that fantasy's a guilty a pleasure of mine.

I am 1000000000% an enforcer of Dick was not an angry robin. And he wasn't because the comics show just how happy his demeanor was and how fun he is. But angsty teen Dick? 16/17 year old Dick?

I LOVE IT.

Again throwing a little bit of canon in

"When we started this you were open and encouraging. You were my father...but these last few years...all you've been doing is trying to control me even more."

This is so loaded.

The anger Dick feels when Bruce is trying control him, trying to lock him in a cage in the batcave because of worry, has so much ao3 potential.

Like angsty teen dick is so complicated to think about because Bruce acts a bit like an alcoholic father and Dick's compartmentalization issues come from his parents' death. So what would this result in?

I have no fcking clue.

Because Dick would totally get wasted with Roy, hazy blue eyes staring emptily into space, watching with a flushed cheeks as his short black hair fans out on the back of a beaten blue couch at Roy's place, just breaking down quietly as Roy rants and screams about life's injustices in the background, slinging an arm around Dick and jostling him.

Or maybe he and Roy would also go bar hopping, both of them sloppy drunk, laughing and crying at the same time while they max out their daddies' credit cards and then crash somewhere in someone's pool. Maybe they end up inadvertently on Katy Perry's Friday Night music video.

Or maybe Dick would be a hurricane of disaster, lashing out with knives of sharpened words stabbing the deepest, sorest spots of pain in people, his anger alighting a fire in all. He would be magnificent, ferocious, and catastrophic.

He could be any of these three and all three at once.

He would feel the need to act out if Bruce was becoming more controlling.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, Dick raised Bruce and that perpetually sense of responsibility he's instilled into himself from a young age as well as his self-sufficiency is never erased so one night he would be blacked out from the excessive alcohol but next morning 6'o clock his body's walking up and he's going through his morning routine like a machine and out the door to work. He just keeps going like this day and day until he collapses and the titans intervene or Bruce drags him back to the manor, screaming in love and fear and Dick screams back and the cycle begins.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #135

Like canonically Dick ran away from home at 16, got a job, got caught up in a major anarchist group, and did a whole freaking investigation while Bruce sulked in the cave because Dick ran away.

There's so much angsty dick potential that could go in so many ways because he's such a complex character that all of them apply.

LOL!!! I totally think he would get impulsive piercings too. Maybe when he's drunk and pissed and then the next day he would wake up be like wtf. He'd sit in turmoil and a little regret for a while and then be like whatever because these piercing are freaking cool.

Bonus: no one (except the og titans and Alfred bc Dick never keeps anything from Alfred and the titans are family) ever find out about the piercings and it's kept a tightly guarded secret until a decade later when he does something in the batcave and one of the batkids notice and they're like, "DICK YOU HAVE A PIERCING?!" The rest of them just about break their neck whipping their head around to look at him. Dick just shrugs nonchalantly because time has tempered him and goes, "oh yeah. I guess. I forgot." Bruce passes out and wakes up on the floor to Dick hovering worriedly over him while the rest of the family watches in amusement at his predicament and also half brokenly because their golden boy big brother has piercings. Plural.

Bruce gasped out a pained breath, "Piercings?"

Dick stared at him silently, gemstone eyes holding his gaze as the quiet of the cave melted the seconds into hours. His eyes slowly slid from Bruce's to where the rest of the family was standing, watching them with bated breath for his answer, before they met Bruce's hopeful ones again.

"No." Bruce, with all the strength left in his body after recovering, raised a questioning eyebrow as Dick continued, "I don't have any piercings and never did."

"Hmn." But he swore he could've seen-

The kids erupted in protests.

"Dick, come on!" Jason hollered, pushing forward. "We clearly saw it there-"

"Where?" Dick asked, spreading his arms wide and invitingly, offering them to see for themselves.

The piercing they had all gotten the barest glimpse of was gone from where they had seen it on Dick.

"But you said you! You said, 'yeah. I guess so. I forgot.'" Stephanie put her hands on her hips, "Admit it Boy Piercing!"

"Boy Piercing?!"

"Fess up, pretty boy!"

"Steph," Dick visibly bit his lip to keep from laughing, "I was joking. You guys should've see your reactions - they were so funny!! Dick has a piercing. OMG. You people were hilarious."

Damian clicked his tongue. "Enough Richard! Did you implement metal into you skin like a heathen? Richard, how could you?! Who dare touch-"

"No Dami!" Dick quickly interfered to prevent a possible murder on his behalf, "I was just kidding, okay? Besides, did you guys even really see it? Like full on?"

Harper crossed her arms. "Close enough."

Dick quirked his eyebrow at that. "But you didn't actually see it right? You thought you saw something shining and turned to look. C'mon you guys know what it is - peripheral vision hallucinations. Things you see in your peripheral vision that aren't real because you are tired," He pinned a look at each other, emphasizing the words, "and stressed."

Dick pressed his lips together and folded his arms. "Time for bed. Now. I know you all haven't been sleeping for the past few days so you all are going to bed. At the manor." Dick finished, shooting Jason a look when he tried secretly shuffling toward his bike.

The rest of them were unmoved for a moment but quickly caved under Dick's patented "I'm mom-ing you."™ stare as Jason liked to call it.

They trudged upstairs while Bruce and Dick watched in companionable silence.

Bruce turned to look at Dick as the sounds of their bickering and footsteps faded away.

"How did you do it?"

Dick hummed distractedly and tilted his head to look down at Bruce still sitting on the floor. "Do what?"

Bruce growled, impatience, annoyance, and apprehension swimming in his voice, "Don't lie. To me. How did you hide it? Now. And for so long?"

Bruce watched tensed as the tip of Dick's tongue ran over the ridges of his top row of teeth, the first sign of anger he had seen from him in weeks. The pink flesh of his tongue barely avoiding cutting itself on the slightly too sharp canines that Dick loved to call his vampire teeth since he was little. He had even threw a veteran-dentist-scaring-tantrum in the dentist's office when the man suggested shaving them down once.

Bruce watched warily as Dick crouched down, balancing on his balls of his feet like a cat on a fence, and forcefully tamped down the sudden urge to pull out a hidden batarang when the boy grinned, eyes lighting with the wild fire of joy and madness from his robin days that still had Bruce on edge for decades.

"How did you it?" He asked again, not sure if he really wanted to know anymore but the principle remained. There was no way Dick's activities could be hidden for so long. He didn't invest in his detective following skills for something like this to escape his observation. But at the same time Dick had evaded his tracking skills when he was seventeen and ran away from him. But something so obvious as a piercing would never escape his notice. But a whole 17 year old boy also shouldn't have escaped his notice. However, Bruce had improved. He had gotten better at his job and his skills. Right? Right, of course, he was the best in the world. Dick definitely did have a piercing. But...on the off chance...what if he really had just seen a flash of light? Sweat on a body? The edge of a birdarang? Peripheral vision hallucinations? "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

You already know what I'm asking. Bruce thought, frustrated with Dick for lying. Frustrated with himself for not knowing if Dick was lying.

"Do you have piercings?" Bruce ground out.

Dick laughed, his voice echoing like choir bells in the spacious cave and bouncing off the stalactites to create a ringing, haunting melody as he leaned in closer to Bruce.

"C'mon, B! You know every showman's got his own tricks," Dick grinned brightly.

And you're the whole damn circus. Bruce hissed viciously in his mind.

Dick's eyes twinkled back at him.

#gaslight gatekeep girlboss dick grayson #Tim would be the only batkid to know because of his dedicated stalker #when he heard Dick in pain he almost abandoned his secrecy to kill someone with a nail gun #but instead almost dropped it on his foot when he saw Dick fiddling with his new piercing #he fainted in the shadows #and then woke up immediately to snap pics #and then tracked down the artist who did just in case #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #jason todd #red hood #stephanie brown #spoiler #harper row #thanks for the ask! #batfam headcanons #batfamily #cl anon asks

[formerheroeswhoquittoolate]

imagine, if you will:

dick is standing behind the couch braiding stephanie's hair.

stephanie is sitting on the back of the couch braiding barbara's hair.

barbara is sitting on the couch braiding tim's hair.

tim is sitting cris-cross applesauce on the floor with cass's head on his feet braiding her hair.

(cass is eating a cookie.)

#on today's episode of “things the batfamily does quietly to freak bruce out” #they all get so focused on braiding hair that they go quiet #and then bruce is like “several of my most chaotic children are not making any noise” and goes on a little search for them #they reappear ten minutes later and resume causing chaos #but their hair is now up and out of the way #so that's a plus #domestic batfam headcanons #batfam #tim drake #dick grayson #stephanie brown #cass cain #barbara gordon #yeah I firmly believe tim has long enough hair that you could braid at least the floppy top part if you were dedicated enough #his hair is shorter than mine and mine's been braided before #and you bet your ass dick can braid hair #donna taught him (in my personal opinion) #and then barbara had to re-teach him #batfamily #cass is enjoying her cookie by the way #it's a snickerdoodle if you're wondering #she likes them both because they taste good and they have a very funny name

[arrowmaker15]

(Tim and Bruce in the living room at 4 a.m.)

Tim:

Bruce:

Tim: If you sleep with a pregnant woman, can it be considered a three-way?

Bruce: I expect those kinds of questions from Jason, but not from you.

Tim: Can it though?

Bruce:

Bruce: Hopefully not, because if it was, that would put me in a very uncomfortable situation.

Tim: Um, what?

#incorrect quotes #dc comics #incorrect dc quotes #batfam incorrect quotes #tim drake #bruce wayne #4am thoughts #Jesus Tim #but can it? #now I'm curious #dc incorrect quotes #dc #Bruce has definitely had at least 2 pregnancy three-ways #you don't get called Gotham's biggest and most depraved playboy for no reason #Bruce has dedication to his public persona

[redkelpfish]

The original version of the painting from this post that Bruce won’t admit to keeping in his desk

#dc #batman #bruce wayne #tim drake #jason todd #also I lied bruce definitely keeps this in his room to pull out when he’s having a rough night #dick grayson #dc comics #stephanie brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #dedicated to #@ginalinettiofficial #for noticing it in the background of the power rangers post #you’re a real one #art #did I study bruce’s canonical handwriting for this? none of your business frankly

[domino-waki]

bernard may be biased but

bernard chose this moment to say this to trick his boyfriend into taking a nap.

#timber #tim drake #bernard dowd #my art #fanart #i'm so sorry people who may have followed here for different art and then i made a dedicated fandom sideblog for organizational purposes #that actually might happen with this too but tim is my girlfriend so it would just be me simping

[sirenalpha]

ok Batman Hockey AU (no capes or superpowers of any kind)

first the team

Gotham Knights (probably)

I want them to have like Pittsburgh Penguins financial problems like they nearly get moved because of it but Bruce turns his owed salary into equity post career and helps keep the team in the city

Philadelphia Flyers style team history though like they won their first cups through physical play not being highly skilled

currently have a monochrome uniform now but everyone likes their more colorful uniforms from the 90s

Bruce Wayne

nickname: Wayner

position: left winger

play style: power forward

drafted: 5th overall

50 goal scorer in the dead puck era

one of the last guys to be high scoring and have 100+ penalty minutes

retires due to back injuries

wins one cup in the 90s

and like I said before he agrees to get partial ownership of the team to keep it in the city post retirement

Dick Grayson

nicknames: Tracy, Mr. President

position: center

play style: playmaker

drafted: 1st overall

first sign of hope as the team has been bottom of the league post Bruce's retirement

I did consider making him a goalie because of flexibility but felt him being captain was more important so center it is

one of the youngest captains in the league as he's named at the start of his sophomore season as he entered the NHL at 18

only one to go CHL as he's not American so no US National Team Development Program

cheats at face offs because if you're not cheating you're not trying

can use heel to heel for puck protection and can get off the ice on his own if he loses a blade on his skate

no one thinks he's fast until he's coming after them on the backcheck

favorite thing is stealing the puck, second favorite thing is breaking ankles

doesn't fight but he can WWE slam guys to the ice

everyone thought he was a bust for the first two years because he had no one to pass to

third year he decides to start shooting and begins to rack up more points

chats with everyone teammates, opponents, refs

always stops to sign stuff for kids

Jason Todd

nicknames: Toddy, Hot Toddy

position: right defense

play style: offensive defenseman

drafted: 62nd

dropped in the draft because he was short

got into a car accident that destroyed his knee after the draft so everyone thought his career was over

rehabbed his knee to the extreme and came back a season later and suddenly 6'0"

went NCAA before NHL to get back into it and scored a ton

cannot play defense

thinks punching guys in the face is gap control

has totally had pucks go off his ass and into his team's goal

will jump into the rush

silent wrist shot for power play goals

never talks to Dick when he gets mic'ed up

Tim Drake

nickname: Goose

position: right winger

play style: goal scorer

drafted: 15th

also dropped in the draft because he's short

USNTDP to NCAA

actually not that fast

always loses defensive coverage in the offensive zone

deceptive shot, can change the angle on goalies

always squeezes out from getting hit

active stick on defense, good at poking the puck away

lots of high sticking penalties in the early years

did get checked into his own bench one time and no one will let him forget it

Damian Wayne

nickname: also Wayner

position: center

play style: goal scorer

not drafted yet still in USNTDP

Talia refuses to get into hockey even after being with Bruce but when Damian was three she asked Bruce if skating would wear him out and he said yes so she let Damian go skate

didn't learn to how to stop until he was six because going fast was more important so either fell down or slammed into the boards to stop

vicious in family games of floor hockey

definitely practices trick shots

gets both power skating and figure skating coaching

not even in the NHL and already annoyed with media as he's predicted to go high in the draft

he'll learn to pass and play defense eventually

#hockey au #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #I know there are more characters but this is already a very long post #and I could say way more for Dick because for some reason he translates really well to a hockey player #Dick and Damian also make old hockey men very mad #who is the audience for this idk #I feel like people can guess who I based their play styles on if you actually know hockey tho some are combos #long post #should this team be based on the new jersey devils? Maybe but fuck the devils #also this dedicated to the person that gave Jason like a cut out chest protector

[someoneimsure]

Jason: I don’t have anxiety,

Dick: Great! Then the whole family can go out together to the circus and---

Jason, totally joking: I have monstriety.

Dick, worried: What does that mean?

Tim: It means that he only feels anxious when he’s with people for long periods of time because he knows they’re going to eventually start thinking he’s really a monster on the inside and it’s going to end in a gun fight.

Jason: Well, fuck.

Tim: Well, he asked.

Dick: Why does no one tell me these things?? D:

Jason: He just did, Dick.

#i get over my writers block with these #Incorrect Batfamily Quotes #maybe i should dedicated a sideblog to this idk #Batfamily x Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Tim Drake #Incorrect Jason Todd #Incorrect Dick Grayson #Incorrect Tim Drake #Dick Grayson x Jason Todd #Dick Grayson x Tim Drake #Tim Drake is your translator #only because Tim Drake knows that feeling too #also Jason knows how to read between the lines #Incorrect Batboys Quotes #in hindsight this is a lot less funny than i intended #my sense of humor has died lol #my post #my quotes

[calciumcryptid]

Maybe what Tim Drake needs is his own city.

#ive been thinking about this for a while now #lowkey think it would be beneficial for him for him to find something new to dedicate himself soon #tim drake #dc

[ifyoucandaniel]

*slaps back of Tim Drake* this bad boy can fit so much undiagnosed autism

#that boy was running around gotham at night stalking his favorite heroes and learning every fact about their personal and hero lives. #his special interest is literally the wayne family #and he got himself adopted into that shit #hes dedicated i’ll give him that #batfam #tim drake

[batbrotherinlaw]

wait this isn’t that chamalet guy

#if you recognize this post it’s bc it’s from my main acc but I’m moving it here bc this is my dedicated bat blog #anyway he’s fighting demons and I get that #tim drake #batfam #red robin #dc robin #dc comics #mine

[ggomos-maribat]

D-DAY Chapter 7 | D-Day II

TW: Graphic depictions of injury and violence, death

Adrien reclined on his swivel chair, feeling the sun hitting his back through the windows. To his past self, the place was his childhood bedroom. To his present, it was an office. A space for work. His videogame collection had been replaced with infinite shelves of books and binders; the once playful orange of one of his walls was taken over by a muted blue; and the TV set had been moved aside to make space for a large desk.

He stared at his dead phone beside his laptop. He had turned it off to silence the pesky calls and messages he had been receiving nonstop since that morning.

He thought it would soon die down in a matter of hours. But he was wrong. His laptop let out a loud shrill, signaling a call from Mayor Bourgeois himself. Adrien released an exasperated sigh, answered the call, and leaned back again.

"Adrien! Thank goodness!" Came the mayor's panic-stricken voice. "You weren't answering your phone at all!"

"What can I do for you, Monsieur Bourgeois?" He asked monotonously.

"I've been getting calls from everywhere! International agencies, news stations, politicians. Oh, it's a mess! They want to hear from the source of those videos. You can reach out to Ladybug for them, can't you Adrien?"

He touched his fingertips together. "You know very well that I already announced my retirement, and so has Ladybug. I have no means of 'reaching out' to her whatsoever."

"But—but you don't understand! The hotlines have been going off since the videos were released. People are booking flights to find out what's happening! I can't possibly turn them away!" Mayor Bourgeois bleated, his voice rising an octave. Adrien pictured him sweating bullets under the scrutiny of the public.

Adrien decided to get a little more aggressive. "What do you want me to do? The videos speak for themselves. I've said what I had to say. I'm not Chat Noir anymore, and Ladybug's not showing up until another villain terrorizes Paris again."

"You are the last contact to the heroes! Why did you have to put out those videos? What about our tourism—"

"We already told you about the release of the videos even before we started making them. Don't tell me you didn't prepare for what's to come after that." A foot tapped on the floor in annoyance. "Ladybug said and I quote 'I want to imprint on the whole world what happened to Paris so that they know about the city they left behind, so that the people's suffering will not be forgotten.'"

We didn't release those videos on a whim.

"But—"

"As far as my knowledge goes, you are the mayor, Monsieur Bourgeois. Now you have to speak for the people of the city." Adrien lowered his tone, nearly imitating a threat. "And heaven forbid you put the reputation of Parisians on the line."

His thoughts recounted the vehemence of the Parisian government against the heroes during the appearance of Hawkmoth, and its gradual descent to complacency as they relied on him and Ladybug to rid the city of all its problems.

He remembered their constant pleas, to at least offer a little help to the civilians, especially those emotionally scarred, and how their suggestions fell upon deaf ears. He recalled a fuming Chloe scolding her cowering father, who claimed that it was the other officials' decision to let the heroes handle Paris themselves.

The mayor was on thin ice. There were implications from those videos, consequences that would affect Paris for a long period of time. The City of Lights could be ostracized by the rest of the world when people realize how numbed its civilians were.

Adrien, too, was falling into the spotlight because of his heavy revelations. About his father. About his identity.

"For those looking for me, tell them that I'm not accepting calls nor visitors at the moment," Adrien added. "If you'll excuse me—"

"Wait, please!" The mayor interrupted. "Just help me out here. What do I tell them? Should I say something about the Miraculous?"

"I'm not sure. Should you?" His scoff was similar to that of Felix's. "Think about it properly.”

He ended the call, not wanting to hear another word from him. He only wanted silence for the entire day. To him, it wasn't only the day for Paris' uncovering. It was also a day of commemoration. They had meticulously arranged and compiled those videos to bring justice to everyone in the city.

And for themselves. For the heroes.

For years, they had been held captive under their duty to protect while they fought against a ruthless madman. My father. No . . . I can't even call him that now. He's just Gabriel.

He snapped out of his short reverie when he heard his laptop ring again. This time, it was a caller he'd gladly talk to. He tapped on a key and Marinette's voice sounded out. "Adrien, can you come here for a minute?"

He stood up and brushed down his outfit, beaming. "Gladly."

---

The manor was in chaos.

They gathered in the Batcave, wearing tensed jaws and darkened expressions. Bruce was the most stirred up, despite being restrained in his movements.

Jason's gaze wandered over to Tim, who was hunched over a chair and had his head bowed. Jason shifted on his feet. Tim had been in that position for so long. Unmoving.

"If she wasn't involved in this, why did she disappear?" Bruce asked.

Alfred looked just as exasperated as the rest. "I assure you, Master Bruce, Miss Marinette is a trustworthy person. Though I have no knowledge of her reasons for leaving or her current whereabouts, I respect her decision albeit the suddenness."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oracle, what do we know so far?"

"A total of seven hundred and two videos have been found." Barbara looked down on her phone. "And counting. Source can't be tracked down. We're guessing it's magic. But it's safe to assume everything came from Paris."

She cleared her throat as she pushed her glasses up. Jason noted the lines under her eyes, feeling a twinge of sympathy. "There are three categories of videos. The first is labeled only with numbers and recordings of the incidents in Paris. The last four digits make up dates, while the first two digits aren't clear. We're thinking it's the number of years since those 'akumas' first appeared."

"The second category has videos labeled with 'W', which stands for 'witness' and the same digits, referring to the date of the incident they're recounting. These ones are interviews of those who have direct relations to the akumas or had close encounters with them."

Dick drummed his fingers on the railing. "The third category?"

"There are less of these videos compared to the other ones. Same labels but with 'AV' at the start. 'Akumatized villain'. Personal stories of people who were akumatized."

"Tim." Bruce's tone cut sharply in the air. "You mentioned that Marinette said something to you before the videos were released."

All eyes went towards Tim. Jason shuffled uncomfortably again. It was clear that Tim was devastated—they all knew he and Marinette were close. He looked devoid of his soul, left as a shell with no explanation of her departure.

"Weird stuff. She said today was going to be D-Day. That's it," Tim replied weakly, not once lifting his head.

"Are you sure she hasn't been doing anything else?"

"Master Bruce—"

"What if she's done something here?"

Jason bit his tongue. As expected from the old man. He thinks everyone is suspicious and he's all paranoid now that she was inside his house.

"She doesn't know about us," Tim insisted.

Dick moved closer to Tim. "B, you're thinking too much into it. We're not even sure if she was involved—"

"Of course, she's involved. She knew about the videos. She came from Paris." It was Damian who spoke up this time. "Unsurprising if she tried to get into Drake's head—"

"Don't you dare say that about her!" Tim lunged at Damian, but was held back by Dick. Jason rarely saw Tim this enraged; his glare was jarring, paired with bloodshot and swollen eyes. His unkempt appearance emphasized that he was just about to break.

"Tt. It is true. She had an ulterior motive in working inside the manor."

"Damian." Jason raised his voice. "Alfred already said Marinette's clean. You're accusing her without enough evidence."

Tim tore Dick's hand away from him and stalked out of the cave. Jason kept an eye on him as he disappeared out of view. He wanted to help. But he'd be the last person Tim would want to talk to. They needed to give him time.

"Has the JL found anything?" Dick asked.

"Nothing," Bruce answered bluntly. "We have to go to Paris ourselves to get answers."

Jason didn't see what the problem was other than Bruce being a control freak again. He'd watched a handful of videos himself and had grown queasy seeing the brutalities. But they were finished. There was no threat waiting for them since Paris was at peace now.

And yet the mysteries kept piling up.

---

Tim's head was throbbing. He threw his pillows aside to make way for his laptop and plopped down on his bed. His body was begging for sleep but he wasn't satisfied until he got the answers he needed. Did Marinette really experience all of that? How many times had she died?

He hadn't even noticed he was crying again until he felt the wetness on the back of his hand.

Tim rubbed his eyes and scrolled through the videos. It was no use trying to figure out where exactly they came from. They hadn't watched all the videos yet, so there must be something that could help clear things up.

He stopped in the middle of the video selection.

AV030202 - First.

Marinette.

Marinette was on the thumbnail.

How had he missed that?

He clicked on the video, noticing that it was shorter than all the others, only about six minutes in length. Adrenaline pumped in his blood as he watched the video start. The first face that appeared was that of the heroine, Ladybug, who Tim remembered from the videos of the akuma attacks and witness accounts.

Ladybug was sitting closer to the camera, unlike the other ones who had been interviewed. Her lips were drawn into a fine line and her fingers were tight against the edge of the table.

"At the time of the release of this video, you may already know about the Paris situation. During the compilation and filming of the witness videos, a few Parisians have come forward and volunteered to share the story of their akumatizations."

She took a breath. "At first, my team and I were hesitant about this. The reason why we did not plan to include the akuma victims in our videos was because we were afraid that they would be blamed and misunderstood. However, those who volunteer have been extremely persistent." Her blue eyes glinted with a dangerous edge. "I want to say this now: the akumatized civilians were victims, not criminals. They have no memory of their akumatizations except for the fact that their emotions had been used against them. They are not in full control of themselves when they are in their akumatized forms. Those who had chosen to speak about their experiences are brave souls, and I hope that you will not condemn them for their actions."

Ladybug stood up. "With that, we'll begin with one of the first volunteers."

She walked out of the camera's view to reveal Marinette sitting behind the table. Gone was her usual brightness. She was pale, as if sick, clad in an oversized hoodie and messy hair.

"Hi." The word was barely audible.

"Hi." She tried again, but louder this time. "I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng, formerly akumatized as the Seamstress."

Tim paused the video. Marinette . . . akumatized before.

He debated for a few seconds before pressing 'play'.

"I've tried my best not to get akumatized all those years." She cracked a smile. "But I guess everyone has their breaking point. I've been bottling . . . emotions for so long and it just spilled out. I had a lot of responsibilities at that time. As a daughter, a friend, the class representative, and a designer."

"I was co-organizing a charity event that my school decided to hold. There were so many things to take care of and we were short on time for the preparations. Most of the committee leaders backed out at the last minute. I was making calls, ordering materials, designing the decorations, and sending invitations on my own."

"For the most part, I was used to having a lot on my plate. It would cost me a week of all-nighters and missed meals, but it was somehow gratifying if I saw my work pay off." Marinette looked away from the camera. "But it didn't. A day before the event, I found out that one of my classmates was sabotaging everything. She canceled our venue booking, emailed inappropriate messages to our VIPs under my name, and permanently deleted important documents after leaking confidential information about the guests. When I brought it up to our teachers, they only blamed me for it."

"That's when—I don't know—I just snapped." She sighed. "I surrendered to Hawkmoth and became the Seamstress. The next thing I know, I'm on a rooftop and the heroes were standing in front of me."

"I can't speak for the rest of the akuma victims, but I know this: being akumatized isn't easy. Even if you don't remember it, everyone else does. You'd have to deal with the consequences of things you had no control of." She wrapped her arms around herself. Her exhausted, defeated expression was an image burned into memory. "I'd still hear rumors about me. About how the Seamstress was one of the worst akumas to date and one of the hardest to take down."

"I . . . apologize. For letting my emotions run wild. I could've done more to calm myself down.

Listening to her frail voice made his chest squeeze painfully. Make sure to get some sleep. Eat first and take quick breaks. He heard her gentle reminders in his head. No wonder she'd tell me that. She knows what it's like to be half-dead in work, unrecognized for her efforts.

He was still confused about what to feel. Half of him wanted to go to Paris and demand an explanation from her. Run his throat dry, screaming, because she wasn't supposed to leave so soon. She wasn't supposed to leave without telling him.

But the other half wanted to know if she was alright, to check in on her. He wanted to ask how she felt during those attacks. Tell her that he was consumed with guilt without knowing why.

It wasn't only a big day for the world. It was a big day for Paris. All its citizens had their stories and secrets unveiled.

Tim stopped watching to switch to another video. 030202.

The Seamstress herself wasn't in the video but her powers were. Red ribbons the size of carpets were strewn on top of buildings, cars and streets. 

Instead of Ladybug, a blonde boy was adopting the mantle of the heroine, along with one of the temporary heroes, Viperion. The two were leaping across the rooftops, past streaks of large ribbons spreading in the city.

The video transitioned into another view. Strips of cloth branched out from the ribbons and wrapped around helpless civilians. Only their faces were left unexposed. Floating needles came up to those who were entrapped and punctured their skin. Muffled cries escaped from the Parisians until the cloth completely choked them. Some cocooned bodies lied still on the ground.

He looked away, sensing his stomach churning. He had looked through enough videos that day to know that the outcome wasn't pretty.

The video changed again. This time, it was a recording shot through a door left ajar, capturing a scene that looked like it was in a school. The audio wasn't caught, but the picture was clear.

Teachers had their wrists, heads, and legs bound with the ribbon, controlling them like puppets. They were reprimanding a student who was already lying prone on the ground, dead. A blurry shape moved and clapped in the distance. The Seamstress.

When the recording ended, Tim let his eyes drift close for a moment. D-Day. D-Day. D-Day. He'd spent months with her, naively assuming that he already knew everything that was to know about her. But then she became a stranger overnight.

Were her feelings even real? His tangled thoughts recalled Damian's words.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who exactly are you? 

chapter list | prev | next

AO3 Link

Taglist: @its-maemain@tinybrie@worlds-tiniest-puff-pastry@the-coffee-fandom @laurcad123

#d-day #timari #timinette #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat fanfic #maribat fic #ggomoz #maribat tim drake #maribat marinette dupain cheng #dc x miraculous #angst party here we go #angst angst #dedicated to coffee who went to bed earlier in exchange for this chapter

[sketchingtons]

Hi Sketch! I'm so happy to see you on my dash again. Especially your Tim!!!

I was wondering if you're going to be hosting Timber Week again this year. Your prompts from last year were really fun!

Aaah so glad to show up on peoples dashes once again! Sorry it’s been so quiet on here, rl stuff has really been keeping me busy haha

So glad you’re happy to see my Tim again too! He’s been a joy to finally draw again 😌🙏

Super pleased you enjoyed Timber Week last year, it makes me so happy to know people had fun with the event! 😊

Now I can’t absolutely promise anything since my schedule is a bit up in the air for the rest of the year-but I’ve definitely been thinking about Timber Week as the time period of the event from last year draws closer. And especially with all this new Timber content we’ve been getting from DC, there’s for sure a lot of new scenarios to base prompts off of 👀

While I can’t give any concrete confirmation right now, I’ll be thinking about it in the coming weeks-and I’ll for sure let y’all know in the near future if I decide to host the week again or not!

#asked and answered #tim drake #bernard dowd #timber #timbern #Timber week #I think it would be a blast to do again-I just gotta make sure I have the time to dedicate to it akdhsk #I’ll let y’all know tho!