a little birdie told me…

Barry: Uh, Bats?

Bruce: Yup?

Barry: What the hell is this?

Bruce, deadpan: The children yearn for the Robin.

Nightwing: Red hood was a Robin too. What is so confusing about that?

Wonder Woman: It's just.... A lot of things make so much more sense now.

Nightwing: Like what?

Flash: Well, we did wonder who the first Robin was. But it being Red hood makes so much sense. The anger issues should have given it away really.

Nightwing: Huh?

Wonder Woman: It is quite obvious once you see it. It also explains why Batman gave you the role of Robin. I mean, i can only imagine how painful it must have been to watch your partner turn to a life of crime. So he replaced him with you. And I must say, it was a good choice. You were one of my favourite Robins so far.

Nightwing: Wait, wait, wait! You guys think I was the second Robin?

Flash: Well duh. You've always been this ball of sunshine. Just like the second Robin. And now with the hood being the angry first robin and Red robin being the genius third, we now know what happend to all of you.

Nightwing: I... Oh god, J's gonna fucking lose it if he figures out you guys think he's the oldest.

Wonder Woman: Pardon?

Nightwing: Doesn't matter. What does matter though is that Redhood isn't the first robin. I was!

Flash:

Wonder Woman:

Nightwing:

you had been good at things your whole life; academics, sports, talking with people. but being a person, a teenager, was no easy feat. it wasn't something you could study, or perfect, or a niche subject you could dig deep into old boxes in a library to find a book on. so when a boy catches your eye, you don't know what to do. you want to seem mature, experienced, prepared, because there's nothing wrong with being ready for any outcome.

"i... i've never kissed anyone either, you know," you best friend says sheepishly, a hand cupping the back of his neck. the air is stuffy with the heat of the conversation, the summer air leaving a scarlet flush on both your cheeks. "i'm not sure i'm qualified for this."

"well, i don't know anyone else," you mumbled, rocking on your feet. "i like you, and you're hot, i guess."

his eyes light up at that last bit, "what?"

"um, nothing," you said quickly, swaying into a more upright posture, your hands clasped behind your back. "so. fifteen bucks should be good, right?"

"i mean, i was going to consider this a favor, but what's fifteen free bucks, huh?" your best friend cracks a smile and you gasp, your hand flying out to swat his shoulder. but before you can hit him, a sturdy grip locks around your wrist and winds it around his neck, awkwardly tilting his head to find a nice angle for you. your other hand swings around naturally, draping across his shoulder.

you blink, "smooth."

"right?" your best friend grins as the two of you press against each other.

you examine his mouth; glittering eyes, dimpled cheeks, pink lips that are just the slightest bit chapped lining his cheesy grin. you don't find it unattractive, if anything it's a little cute. makes him more real. your eyes glaze over a little looking at him.

"are you sure you know what you're doing?" you ask.

"no," he chirps. his voice is sunny but it trails off into a bit of a gentle, awkward laugh. "but i've sat through enough romcoms with you to sort of have an idea of how to do it."

he drags his sweaty palms down his legs. "how hard could it be?"

not that hard, apparently.

your mouth meets that of your best friend's in a gentle press; a little clumsy as his lips chase after yours like a high. at first it feels like he's eating your face, but one kiss is deep and lingers on your lips like a dream stains your mind after a long night.

his fingers brush along your jaw, "tilt your head for me?" he whispers, and you do. his nose bumps yours— "oops, sorry," he laughs— before his lips peck the corner of your mouth.

you start to part your teeth, your tongue tracing your bottom lip. you smile deviously, "french me."

"i don't think that's a term." he replies.

"kiss me like one of your french boys."

"i pity your future boyfriend." your lips are millimeters away from brushing each other when he adds, "how would we even do that?"

you lift a shoulder, "can't hurt to try, can it?"

"i saw you eating garlic bread earlier. it most certainly can."

"you love garlic bread!" you protest.

"oh my god, just shut up." his lips find yours again and drags the tip of his finger along the underside of your chin to coax your mouth open. his tongue presses against yours, pillowy and a bit wet but still surprisingly warm; it takes you by surprise. his hands scramble to find a right place on your body, one he's known for years but never really introduced himself too. your hands drift down to his chest, and you feel his palms on your waist, down your hips—

"get your hands off my butt or i'll kick you where the light can only dream of reaching." you mumble.

"sorry, sorry," he whispers, his hands gently holding your waist before carefully kissing you again. you open your eyes briefly, hoping to glare at him playfully, but only to find that his are shut. not squeezed in concentration, but resting closed like he was at peace. his lashes brush against your nose and you giggle at the ticklish feeling, your smile breaking the kiss and your teeth clicking against his.

he smiles as your lips part, "stop laughing," he chides, but he's grinning at this point. you giggle harder. "you're so unserious!" but there's nothing short of the biggest, dumbest smile on his face.

your lips tingle softly, and the face of the cute boy in your chem class is already starting to blur in your head.

✶   tim drake, mark grayson, smallville!clark kent, young!ben hargreeves, kirishima eijiro, peter parker, jon kent, sawamura daichi, kyan reki, percy jackson, harry potter.    ˖ ° 𓇼 ｡

Bruce, the moment he sees little baby Tim with his bowl cut pushed back: Jesus, you got a fucking forehead on ya, dontcha kid? Wow, would you look at that thing?

Bruce: I feel sorry for you, you must get bullied a whole fucking lot

Tim: I’m being bullied right now

Bruce: Ya know where you get that forehead from? Your fucking daddy. You’re the spitting image of ya mom, but ya got your Dad’s big ass forehead

Jack, who is literally standing right beside Tim with the same hairstyle: Hey…

Tim, his forehead being poked by Bruce: … are you drunk?

Bruce, who is incredibly sober: Yes

Tim, in disbelief: …

Bruce: Don’t worry, kid, I’m sure you’re gonna grow into it or whatever

Bruce: And if ya don’t… well, bowl cuts can be your thing. Like… your signature style

Bruce: No one will steal it from you, trust me

Tim: I'm leaving now

Bruce: Sure, oh, but not that way. Jason and Dick are plotting in the corner and if they see ya forehead you'll never live it down

Tim: *big sigh before turning around and climbing under the gala food table*

Jack: ... I don't have a big forehead...

“We are not furries.”

Tim pales at the thought, head pushed deep into his pillow in embarrassment as he listens to your words. The book he was reading dropped from his hand, discarded to his side (luckily he memorises his page instead of using a bookmark). He can't believe he's having this debate… again.

You lie comfortably on top of Tim, void of any shame as you continue. “You’re grown men with fursonas; you're clearly in denial,” you say, head tucked securely into his shoulder. Tim scoffs but makes no attempt to push you away.

“There are plenty of heroes that go by animal aliases.” He reasons, “There’s Hawkman and Hawkwoman.”

“Bad examples because those two have bird wings and a beak.”

“Dove and Hawk”

“You said ‘hawk' twice.” Tim can feel your lashes flutter against his shoulder, imagining your face twisting in confusion. “Hawk, as in Hank Hall,” he clarifies. “Are we talking about Dawn's beefy chode?”

Tim looks down at you and raises his eyebrow. He remains silent for a moment, contemplating whether he should comment but yields: “Yeah…”

“Ah, well, those two also dress in bird suits.”

“Falco—”

“Actually, what's with you and every hero before you picking birds? Is this some type of unified kink?”

“I do not have a bird kink,” Tim denies in a firm voice, mimicking Bruce’s. You lightly chuckle, “Of course you don’t… Not that I'm not willing to try—”

“Please shut up.”

You never get to finish your thought, succumbing to Tim’s pained requests.

Soon, silence settles once again, and Tim finally starts to ease back into peace.

“Okay, but you have to admit, there is a strange abundance of bird people”

He sighs and shakes his head.

You're ridiculous, but you're his ridiculous.

Tim relents and humours your thoughts, “Yeah, there is.” When the words leave his lips, he can feel your grin grow against his chest, and he can't help himself, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze tightly. You let out a soft giggle and kiss his collarbone and squeeze back.

“I’d still love you if you were a furry.”

a.k.a Tim needs his girlfriend back

tags: Tim drake x reader (established relationship), batfam x platonic!reader, crack, no mention of ‘y/n’

word count: 2.7k , likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

Tim loves that you're close to his family, he adores it. He couldn't have asked for anything better. To know that the love of their life so easily integrates themselves into their partner’s already slightly dysfunctional- adopted family. 

Tim loves it, because you love it. His family, I mean. But if you were to ask him how he feels about how close his girlfriend is to his brothers, sisters, pseudo-father?

He’d say he hates it.

The first few months were great! He would bring you over and you'd greet every member of the family you pass, awkwardly bowing (even to Damian who had the biggest ego trip known to man) as you scurry off, glued to Tim’s side. 

He misses those days. You were like a little bird, too shy to leave the nest, finding comfort in each other’s presence. He had you all to himself; and he would not call himself selfish in a way, but gods, does he want to take you and hide you from the world (his family).

Like all baby birds, they have to leave home eventually, and you did just that. 

It started off small. Girls night with Cassandra, Barbara and Stephanie, who'd want to drill as much gossip and secrets out of you about himself. Innocent at first, Tim trusted you, after all, and doubted you'd say anything incriminating about him to the girls. 

Then, the rubber duckies began to appear. He first assumed it was you and one of your weird pranks. Finding the yellow toys perched on his PC, bed stand, his closet, the usual places he would find you around. Then it got progressively stranger. The batcave, his utility belt, his secret stash of stalkerish pictures of you before you guys dated. No way would you find this stash, the only person sneaky enough to get past his secured hiding spaces was… Cassandra. 

That was when it all started. 

The ducks were okay. Eventually, you took a huge liking to them and told him to give them all to you and you would start a mini-army of rubber duckies, in his name of course. Though, he couldn't miss the devious glances the girls would send him, like he owed them something. 

What ticked Tim off was when you started to come over to the manor. Not that you weren't allowed to, he loves it when you spontaneously visit. But the reason you gave, irked him to no end. 

“Hey Duckie, sorry can't hang, Damian wanted to test those new katanas I’ve been working on.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips and a little hug before dashing towards the batcave, clunky bag full of prototypes jingling beside you. Before Tim could even ask to help carry your bag, you were gone. 

Okay, yeah, this is fine. You help his family come up with new innovative weapons, it's literally part of your job description. 

And then it happened several more times. 

Sometimes needing to cut well needed cuddle time short because “Damian wants to test out all your new gear for himself to deem it useful or not” or “Damian said he’d teach you how to paint after his training session”. 

And with demon spawn at that! his replacement! his arch nemesis. All your inventions were useful! And brilliant! That little demon spawn is just digging his claws into your soft kind back to drain you of all your brilliance. 

And He could teach you how to paint! If Bob Ross taught him anything, it's how to paint using what little skills he had. Though, the large canvas you painted of Tim, yourself and the large army of rubber duckies you gifted him was certainly… something (he had it framed and hung it above his bed). 

Whatever… you're still with him 80% of the time, and if not at the manor, then at Wayne Enterprises!

He thanked the gods that he ended up in an office romance type-thing, even though he is sorta kinda your boss and you work in the STEM department.  He would show up at your lab unannounced and the two of you would have spontaneous lunch breaks, talking about anything and everything. About the silly nerdy geeky stuff his family would horrendously bully him for, because you are as equally silly nerdy and geeky as he is. 

But something always had to ruin his fun. 

That something, being Bruce. 

The first time he showed up was during an actual lunch break. You and Tim sitting on one of the tables in your Lab, devouring a bat-burger you had begged him to order because, in your words: 

“It's literally your dad! No way you gotta pay.”

He had to pay. Not that he minded, never minds when it comes to you.

You were mid rant about some ship that kept breaking your heart, with a smudge of ketchup on your chin and your mouth disgustingly stuffed full of fries. 

“Like what do you mean you guys were just ‘best friends’, you literally faked your death, gave up the only career you ever knew and loved, just to get ride off in the sunset with him.” You scoff as you comically swallow your food. “Coming from a guy, that seems pretty platonic to me” Tim humoured as he sipped on his drink, amused with the way your face contorts with disbelief. 

“I can’t believe you had a boyfriend and still have the worst gaydar known to man.”

“Hey!”

“Bernard would totally get me.” You frown dramatically and Tim rolls his eyes at that, tossing a fry at you. 

“Why aren't you eating in the cafeteria?” A deep authoritative voice shatters your little world, pulling your attention away from him and onto the voice. 

Bruce stands at the doorway to your lab, signature scowl on his face. You lean to the side, to get a better view of him and wave with enthusiasm. 

“Food’s Trash today,” you boldly claim, chewing sideways on a fry. “Is that why you're in my lab? Because you want to have lunch with us?” you ask innocently. 

Which is how Bruce started attending both impromptu and promptu’ lunches. You obviously welcome him with your big loving heart, and definitely not because he’s your terrifyingly, stupidly scary boss and possible future father-in-law. 

To no one’s surprise, Tim is less than… let’s say excited… to have his pseudo father crash his work dates. Now lunch is filled with you explaining to his poorly out of date father the difference of “being cooked” and “cooking.”

and don’t get him started with his god forsaken, golden child of a brother, Dick Grayson, who unknowingly cockblocks. With his brotherly hugs and how he somehow always manages to incite family movie night. or game night. or whatever night. 

And even worse, you slowly grow the habit of inviting Dick to your hangouts. like some b-grade pavlovian experiment.

“Hey, wanna finish watching Lost?” innocent enough, and if Tim played the right cards, you’ll even decide to stay over (you’d still do it even if he played the wrong cards). 

“Sure! let me text Dick” and at first he’s confused, dick? Why? bros in bludhaven doing bludhaven activities. He has his own life, own job, own responsponsibilities, probably too busy to hang out with his younger brother and pretty birdie.

“he’d throw a fit if we continue without him” you absentmindedly add in, typing away on your phone. No one's worse than a brother dick grayson who looks like a sick kicked puppy once you tell him you continued the show you started together without him. 

After this incident, Tim slowly started to notice the lack of reality show binging time with you (at least without Dick) because somehow, Dick is always there once you start a new reality tv show. Even worse, he Pavlova’d himself, catching himself thinking of Dick when it came to reality tv. 

And Jason Todd who cockblocks purposely. The taste of freedom was so close, during the time of confusion where Jsson had no clue Tim was even in a relationship. How he'd eye the two of you skeptically, watching how you seamlessly integrated yourself into their family. His siblings, father, even Alfred, left unblinking at your interactions. 

But now that he knows, that fuckass zombie does everything in his power to ragebait. 

Tim seriously thought he grew accustomed to Jason Todd and his offhanded remarks about him, but now? now he really might dox someone (jason todd). 

TIm can tell he’s doing it on purpose, that smug (and stupid) look in his eyes when Jason asks you about old literature and introspective texts, and god knows how much you love to talk about things you’re interested in (which we all love). 

“I just think that he really captured girlhood, like I don't even understand how he did— I felt so connected with him” you drone on and on about a new book you were reading, something that Jaosn read back in his old robin days. While Tim loves to listen to you talk, literature is something Jason has him beat at (unfortunately…)

Tim just sits there, arm wrapped around you as you face Jason politely, chatting the room up. Jason occasionally sends Tim the knowing glance of smugness and in turn, Tim stares at Jason like he’s the blame for the economic state of the world. 

Tim zones out, plotting on the best opportunity to shit in Jason’s food. He smiles quietly to himself as he envisions his plans taking place, the reaction and satisfaction he’d feel, only snapping out when you suddenly gasp. 

“Oh shit, I totally forgot, I need to give him his meds” and the smile fades from his face instantly. You turn to him with a crazed look, your arm already in motion as you stick your hand in a hidden compartment under the couch. 

“Come on, Duckie, it’s nap time” you say almost ominously, despite your sweet smile and beautiful face, it does nothing to hide your menacing aura. “Yeah, nap time, Duckie” Jason taunts, and his pet name coming from Jason’s mouth tastes sour to Tim.

“Hold him down, will you, JT?” you ask sweetly, as you pop open the pill bottle.

In a swift motion, Tim snatches the bottle from your hand, “No need, i’ll take them willingly” Tim interjects, rather anything other than to give Jason Todd the satisfaction of holding him down. 

Worse of all, by the time Tim wakes up, you’re gone, and the aroma and food reaches his senses. 

He’d wake up, unceremoniously groggy, drool trailing down his face and the pillow within his arm he uses as a substitute for your flat to all extent. Tim feels like the start and end of the universe, all at the same time. He feels his hands tingle and theirs a blanket imprint stained on his forearms and face. Not to mention, what time is it? 

Unable to recollect his own dreary thoughts, Tim drags himself to the kitchen for his obligatory concoction of coffee and energy drink, ready to immediately shave off the 5 extra years off his life he gained from sleeping. 

TIm instinctively floats towards the sound of your giggle, along with the soothing scent of food that roams the air.

When he enters the kitchen, looking like he forgot his name and knows the entire history of you, you and Alfred don't even flinch at the site. 

“Hey Duckie! You slept longer this time, a whole 8 hours” you chirp as you pull out a tray of cookies, cooking the oven door closed. “Congrautlations, Master Tim, that's 5 more than last time” Aldred adds, stirring the pot of delicious smelling food. 

“Thanks…” Tim mumbles, still dazed. 

“I’ll be right with you, i just need ice the sugar cookies” You hum as you vigorously mix the icing while somehow simultaneously piping another batch in a bag. 

Tim can't help but smile gently out the domestic site, heart fluttering and not because of the residual caffeine that circulates through his veins. 

Just as Tim was about to sneak up behind you, and suggest he helps, Stephanie, Cassandra and Barbara burst in like they're about to rob a bank. 

“WE’RE HERE! BARBIE BAKER! Now the icing decorating competition can commence! Alfred, you're the judge” the girls push Tim aside, him knocking against the wall like a discarded ornament, ignoring him. 

“By the way, Tim, Bruce needs you” Barbara adds, as she wheels herself near the table as you carry the trays of cookies while Cassandra balances the various bags of icing. 

Tim stares blankly, his soul threatening to leave tired bones. 

Dear Lord, please give me patience. 

Tim’s at his wits end, he's barely seen you this week (aside from the fact you sleep in his bed every night tucked securely in his hold), stolen by one of his many family members.

Which brings him to now, calling a family meeting as if a world ending war is approaching. With all the family lounging on the couch, with the exception of Alfred who stands at the doorway and Jason who thinks he’s too cool to lounge with his loving family. 

“What do you want, Replacement? You know some of us have lives” Jason quips, leaning against the wall like 2000s grunge emo delinquent. 

“I am a full time CEO and hero who solves all your cases, you run a gang of D-list vigilantes and still come to me for help, we are not the same” Tim spits, the bags under his eyes seem much heavier, darker, like he hadn't slept for days (which might actually be true). At. his. Wits. End. Jason grumbles a retort, licking his teeth and sending Tim a glare that’s somehow more glare than his usual one. 

Then, Tim releases a forbidden command. 

“You’re all on Birdie Ban”

In that moment, the whole room bursts into cries, and an instant influx of complaining rips through the air. 

“WHAT? you have no right to ban us!”

“YOU CANNOT DICTATE WHO SHE CAN AND CANNOT SEE”

“Dick’s right! let Birdie see who she wants”

“You’re just a jealous loser”

“Dictator!”

“Worse than Joker”

“Woah, Steph, that’s a bit much”

“Nah, I was killed by him, Replacement is definitely worse”

“Now, let’s not make any rash decisions, Master Tim”

“I’m going to make a rash decision.”

“No innuendos, Cain. I'm going to gut Drake and use his insides as a scarf”

“Holy shit, Damian, Do we need to talk to a therapist again?”

“Yes, if that therapist is Birdie”

Tim stands there taking the brunt of the comments without flinching, his face passive as if he mastered the art of the Tibetan monks. 

And then: “If I catch you stealing Pretty Bird from me, I’m going to stop helping you with any of your cases…and ill dox you” 

“empty threats, Drake”

“says the guy lost a twitter war to a Brony”

Instantly, Damian shuts up, though his eyes burn with something akin to psychopathy. 

With one look, Tim scans the room seeing that everyone has fallen silent.

“By the way, no one tells her about this or I'll hack into all the tech in the house and block them off, out of spite”

With that, everyone reluctantly agrees and Tim can’t help but smile in satisfaction to himself. 

“Anyways, Pretty bird told me to let you guys know that she’s throwing a Gregory House theme party, everyone has to dress as a version of him” 

Tim may hate the fact that his family steals his girlfriend, but he’s more than grateful that his family loves you so much— enough to show up with a cane and stubble at least. 

epilogue

“Wait, why aren’t you dressed as House?” Dick, slack jawed, asks as he leans on his cane, dressed as convict season 8 house. 

“seems like you can’t even stick to your own girlfriends theme” Cassandra quips, in her rehab house attire, holding an ipod which blasts radiohead at a soft volume. 

“I'm Amber, a.k.a. female house— know your lore” Tim retorts, brushing his faux blonde hair to the side. 

Then you burst into the room, brown wig galore, and your certified doctors coat

“I, too, am at this party— omg bruce! i love cheerleader house, you look so authentic” 

Jason: *hacking into Tim’s apartment’s security cameras*

Tim, trying to cook in his kitchen: -so what do we think, chat? is this good or should i add more salt? and what should i make for dessert, any requests?

Jason:

Jason, seeing the rest of the apartment completely empty:

Jason: we really need to give him an MRI scan.

after a while Jason just starts going along with it and it becomes less of a revenge attempt and more of a keeping-an-eye-on-my-little-brother attempt, because it’s literally the only form of surveillance on Tim from the batfamily that Tim doesn’t immediately find and destroy.

*Damian and Jason, four hours into a stakeout*

Damian: Jay, hand me the mango pieces.

Jason: *plastic crinkling* ayyy, I’m Jason again!

Damian: *snorts*

Jason: what was with that, by the way? I just showed up in Gotham and found you referring to everyone like they’re your professor. Like, that’s not a ‘you’ thing, I don’t know why you started doing that.

*audible chewing noises*

Damian: do you want the genuine honest answer?

Jason: please god do tell

Damian: so- and you aren’t allowed to laugh. but when I first came to Gotham and I showed up at the manor, father obviously had to give me a tour of the place, right?

Jason: yeah.

Damian: and they wanted to do a DNA test to check that my mother wasn’t pulling a fast one by claiming my birthright, so the first place he showed me was the cave, which was also where Tim was.

Jason: *hums*

Damian: and you know that place- the first time you went to the cave, it was wild, right?

Jason: oh, like walking into the tardis for the first time. insane.

Damian: exactly. all high-tech and shit, and I’d just come from the desert compound I’d spent my entire life in- like, my first time going into the kitchen at the manor I saw Alfred loading the dishwasher and my first thought was ‘oh my god what the fuck kind of machine is that-‘

Jason: *abrupt cackle*

Damian: -so the fucking cave for the first time? as a little desert-boy ten year old? I was a little distracted,

Jason, chuckling slightly: ok, fair,

Damian: and so I’m zoned the fuck out, looking around this cave and not paying attention to anything father’s saying, and then I finally tune back in just to hear the words ‘-ackson drake’ while he like, tries to introduce me to Tim.

Jason: *slowly starts laughing again*

Damian, raising his voice to be heard over Jason’s increasing beats of laughter: -and so I’m fucking standing there, ten years old, no clue what this kid’s first name is, and everybody’s looking at me like I’m supposed to be the one fucking talking right now, and ALL I can think of is my mother, who before she shipped me off to Gotham completely alone kept fucking telling me ‘Damian you have to be strong and show that you deserve to be the Batman’s blood son. show no weakness and take the mantle you were born to have; show no fucking hesitance.’, so I’M panicking,

Jason, still cackling: *a clap* NO I DO- I DO REMEMBER, LIKE, BACK IN THE LEAGUE-, holy shit back in the league when your only coping mechanism for not knowing the fuck was going on around you, was literally just to pretend you knew what the fuck was going on around you and bullshit till you make it,

Damian: WELL IT WAS LIKE THE ONLY FUCKING THING MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME-

Jason, through tears: -that’s why I didn’t say shit when I came back to Gotham and found you fucking, doing all this blood son bullshit! You started calling me Todd and speaking in old english and I was just like ‘bless him he’s terrified, just leave him be’

Damian: *cackles* and I did- I did appreciate you going along with it, because back when this happened I panicked and just started calling Tim ‘Drake’ because I was too embarrassed to ask him for his first name, and then by the time I heard somebody else call him Tim in passing, everybody had just assumed this was a thing I did. and I was too socially awkward to clear it up and switch back, so I just had to stick to Drake.

Jason: *wheeze* a-and Grayson?

Damian: well at first I just went along with the surname thing out of awkwardness, but then I’d gone too deep and I had no way out- AND THEN- and then Batman fucking died-

Jason: *wheeze*

Damian: -and I went from being parented by the gymnastics version of the dark lord to being gentle-parented by fucking Nightwing-

Jason, choking: holy- holy shit-

Damian: do you know what it’s like to go from *gruff voice* ‘Damian we don’t fucking kill, give me the katana or I’ll put you in Arkham’ to *high pitched, sweet voice* ‘oh hey Dames, obviously I can’t stop you from killing but I really would appreciate it if we discussed all our options and came to a mature decision together on what’s best in this scenario-‘

Jason: *crying, silent wheezes*

Damian: so DURING all this I’m trying to subtly switch back to using peoples actual names, except it fucking backfired because people just assumed I was calling Richard Richard because we had that special parental mentor bond, and Tim had pissed off to- whatever he was doing in the desert for six months- getting a hysterectomy or whatever the fuck happened-

Jason, amused: hysterectomy- he lost a spleen, Dames

Damian: well whatever happened he wasn’t AROUND for me to shift to calling him Tim! and when father was back I’d made no progress and was back to square one, except this time I was stuck calling one brother Richard and the other Drake!

Jason, still laughing: and this is where I came in?

Damian: I felt BAD! I’d already taken Robin from the guy, I didn’t want him to feel like he was lesser of a brother to me than Richard. So I demoted you to Todd so he wouldn’t feel alone.

Jason: very thoughtful.

Jason: we should probably get you a therapist, dude. I think everybody forgets that when you showed up you were literally just a very confused immigrant child with no experience of normal social interaction apart from me at the league.

Damian: oh I was like, 60% into an anxiety attack consistently for the first two years I was in the city.

Jason: *snorts*

Damian: the first time I was left alone with Tim we were in the kitchen and he said ‘do you want wifi?’ and, y’no, coming from the league, barely any tech and the only normality was the concept of fighting to the death over everything, MY instinctual ten-year-old thought was ‘oh shit, wifi must be slang for brawl here, we’re about to fight’-

Jason: *laughter* you’re fucking kidding

Damian: -so I’m like, so be it, and I say ‘come on then’ and get ready to start punching, only for him to turn around and grab a piece of card stuck to the fridge and hold it out to me,

Jason: *cackles*

Damian: and he goes ‘here’s the password so you can connect, I’m assuming you have a phone or something’-which I fucking didn’t by the way, my mother gave me a shitty flip-phone to call her in emergencies but it didn’t use wifi-, and he’s holding it out to me and I had to like, subtly shift my posture out of the defensive position I’d been in-,

Jason, delirious from laughter: this is the fucking best. thing.

Damian: -and I take it from him, and he gives me this weird look like he has no idea how to communicate with me, and I was just like ‘shit I might have to kill this one, it’s the only way to get out of this interaction’.

Jason: *wheeze* if we go through the timeline, every murder attempt on Tim’s life has just been an occasion where you’ve felt socially awkward and didn’t see any other way out of conversation,

Damian: pretty much, yeah. I should have been on xanax for those first few years.

Jason: stories from your first years in Gotham are my favourite thing in the world.

*a few silent beats*

Tim: are you telling me I’ve been stuck as Drake for YEARS all because Damian’s fucking scared of social interaction?!

*crashing sound*

Jason: HOLY FUCK-

Robins in a washing machine 😌🙏

Tim sitting with one leg up at the bat computer during a meeting “shit, Steph can you pick up some of my foundation I’m almost out”

Jason turned with a frown “Why do you wear make up?”

“eh To many triggering scars on my face” Tim points to his face in a exaggerated motion. “I would show you but I don’t want you going all rage zombie on me”

A strangle noise of confusion or sympathy escaped dick “Why would Jason be triggered?” He said while approaching Tim

Tim roatated in his chair waving his hand around in a circular motion “Well most people find a permanent smile horrific dick”