Curate, connect, and discover
Continuation
___________________________________
It was rare to get the whole Bat-family together for dinner, but Alfred had insisted. The dining room at Wayne Manor was filled with a chaotic mix of voices, clattering silverware, and the occasional verbal jab. For once, Bruce allowed himself a moment to enjoy it—until Jason leaned back in his chair, grinning like the Joker had just handed him a free pass to Arkham.
“So, Dick,” Jason drawled, raising his voice to cut through the chatter. “You gonna tell everyone about your new best friend?”
Dick, who had been mid-sip of water, choked. “What are you talking about?”
Jason smirked. “Oh, you know. The assassin who broke into your place and decided to play Mom instead of killing you.”
The table fell silent. All eyes turned to Dick, whose face flushed under the scrutiny.
“Wait, what?” Tim blurted, fork frozen halfway to his mouth.
“Oh my god, you weren’t going to tell them, were you?” Jason cackled.
Bruce set his knife down with deliberate precision, fixing Dick with a sharp, unreadable look. “Explain. Now.”
Dick sighed, already regretting this entire evening. “It’s not a big deal—”
“Not a big deal?!” Tim interrupted. “An assassin broke into your home!”
“And didn’t kill me,” Dick pointed out, raising his hands defensively.
“That’s not the win you think it is,” Barbara said, though there was a twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
Stephanie was leaning forward, her eyes gleaming with barely suppressed laughter. “Hold up. Back up. They didn’t kill you, and instead, they… what? Offered to split the rent?”
“They made me breakfast,” Dick admitted reluctantly.
That was it. Stephanie doubled over laughing, pounding the table with her fist. “Oh my god, you charmed an assassin into meal prepping for you!”
Cass, seated beside Barbara, tilted her head and smiled. “They liked you.”
“I wouldn’t say they liked me—”
“They liked you,” Cass repeated, firm but amused.
Damian scoffed, crossing his arms and glaring at Dick. “That’s pathetic, Grayson. Allowing an enemy into your home and—what—offering to feed them?” His lip curled, but there was a faint crease of worry in his brow that didn’t escape Dick’s notice.
“I was tired,” Dick said, exasperated. “And I thought it was one of you!”
“That makes it worse,” Bruce said sharply, his tone cold enough to silence everyone. “You assumed the intruder was family and let your guard down. That could’ve gotten you killed.”
“It didn’t,” Dick said, meeting Bruce’s gaze evenly. “They left a note, and they stocked my fridge. That’s it. I’m fine.”
Bruce’s expression darkened. “I’ll install surveillance in your building tomorrow.”
“Bruce, no—”
“Actually,” Tim interjected, “we should bug the entire block. If they come back, we need to be ready.”
“They bought me groceries, Tim!”
“They were in your apartment,” Tim countered.
“You didn’t even know they were there, did you?” Bruce asked, his voice clipped.
“I was half-asleep!”
Jason was practically crying with laughter at this point. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all year. You, the golden boy, the people’s champion, managed to turn a hired killer into your personal shopper.”
“Technically,” Stephanie added, smirking, “they’re more like a life coach. They stocked your fridge because they felt bad for you.”
“That’s even worse!” Damian snapped, glaring at Dick. “Your incompetence is so obvious that an assassin pitied you.”
“Okay, Damian, I don’t think you’re in a position to lecture me about assassins,” Dick shot back, smirking.
Damian bristled but didn’t respond, his cheeks slightly red.
Barbara leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “Only you, Dick. Only you could make an assassin reconsider their target because of how pathetically you live.”
Cass giggled softly, nodding. “They care.”
“Exactly!” Dick pointed at Cass. “See? Someone gets it.”
“That’s not a compliment,” Barbara said flatly.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about irresponsibility and lapses in judgment.
“Honestly, you’re all overreacting,” Dick said, crossing his arms.
“Overreacting?” Tim repeated. “You didn’t even trace the receipt for the groceries they bought, did you?”
“Nope,” Jason said, answering for him. “Too busy enjoying the eggs, weren’t you, Dickie?”
“For the record,” Dick said loudly, ignoring Jason, “those eggs were excellent.”
Stephanie wheezed. “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Dick Grayson: Assassins fear him, but also…kind of want to take care of him?”
Bruce sighed heavily. “We’re setting up surveillance.”
“You’re not—”
“We’re setting up surveillance,” Bruce repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Dick groaned, dropping his head into his hands. This was going to haunt him forever.
__________________________________________
Jason had planned to crash at Dick’s place for the night—not that he’d told Dick. He’d gotten in late, his safehouse compromised by some bad intel, and while he could’ve gone anywhere, he’d ended up here. Grayson’s door was always open, whether Jason deserved it or not.
He told himself it was just convenience, but when he walked into the quiet, dark apartment, something felt…off.
The place wasn’t trashed, but Jason’s sharp eyes picked up on the subtle signs of a break-in: the faint scuff marks near the door, the window latch reset just slightly differently than Dick usually left it. His gut twisted. Someone had been here.
“You'd better not be dead Dick,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the handgun he’d pulled from his jacket. He scanned the apartment quickly, checking corners and closets. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
Finally, Jason found himself standing in the kitchen. The fridge was humming softly, and the countertops were clear—except for a piece of paper folded neatly and tucked into the gap between the toaster and the coffee maker.
Frowning, Jason holstered his gun and picked it up. The sharp, precise handwriting immediately made his stomach drop. Assassins always had a certain way about them. His gaze skimmed the words, and his initial worry was quickly replaced by incredulity.
> "I was here to deliver a message, but your hospitality caught me off guard. Your fridge was so pathetic it offended me, so I ordered you groceries. Try to survive the next visit. You seem like a stand-up guy. —K"
Jason blinked. Then blinked again.
“What the hell?” he muttered, flipping the note over as if the back might offer some clarification.
He set the note down, opened the fridge, and stared. It was fully stocked—eggs, milk, fresh vegetables, yogurt. The yogurt was even the expensive kind. Jason let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Golden boy, you absolute idiot,” he muttered, shaking his head. The guy could charm just about anyone, but this? An assassin breaking in and deciding to do his grocery shopping instead of his dirty work? That was peak Dick Grayson.
But beneath the humor, Jason couldn’t quite shake his unease. An assassin breaking in to deliver a message was one thing. Leaving a note, making breakfast, and restocking the fridge was another. Who the hell was this person, and why hadn’t Dick called anyone about it?
When Dick finally walked in, fresh from patrol and looking like he’d spent the night dragging himself through a cement mixer, Jason was waiting for him. He sat on the counter, arms crossed, the note note in one hald and a bag of monster munch in the other.
“Hey, Dickie,” Jason called casually, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. “Anything you wanna share with the class?”
Dick froze mid-step. His eyes darted to the note in Jason’s hand, and he groaned. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
Jason’s lips twitched, his smirk masking his concern. “Oh, don’t worry, I saw it. Read it. Even checked out the fridge. Wanna explain why a professional killer decided to play Gordon Ramsay in your kitchen instead of, you know, killing you?”
Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not what it looks like—”
“Not what it looks like?!” Jason barked, standing up and waving the note. “An assassin broke in here, Grayson. They were probably two seconds away from cutting your throat, and somehow, you convinced them to restock your pantry instead. What the hell, man?”
“They weren’t going to kill me,” Dick said defensively, though the way he avoided Jason’s gaze didn’t help his case.
“You don’t know that!” Jason shot back. “What if this is some weird psychological game? What if they poisoned your milk or something?”
“They didn’t poison my milk, Jay.”
Jason stared at him, jaw clenched, before running a hand through his hair and laughing—a sharp, disbelieving sound. “God, you’re lucky you’re so damn charming, or you’d be dead twenty times over by now.”
Dick tried to hide his sheepish smile. “That’s why you love me.”
Jason glared at him for a moment longer before the smirk broke through. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you alive. Speaking of, when were you planning on telling everyone else about this little incident?”
“Uh… I wasn't?"
Jason paused and then grinned, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “So you're saying Bruce doesn'tknow about this?”
“No.”
“Well, he’s gonna,” Jason said gleefully. “Because there’s no way I’m keeping this to myself.”
“Jason!”
“Relax,” Jason said, smirking. “Think of it as a bonding experience. Bruce will yell at you, Tim will freak out, Damian will call you pathetic, and I’ll be here to laugh through all of it.”
Dick groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re the worst.”
Dick Grayson barely registered the creak of his apartment door as he stumbled in, shoulders sagging under the weight of another grueling night. Three jobs and a patrol shift in Blüdhaven would do that to a guy. He kicked off his boots, dragged himself toward the couch, and froze mid-step.
Someone was already here.
For a split second, instinct had him reaching for the escrima sticks he kept stashed near the door. But then he caught the faintest whiff of something familiar—coffee beans? The expensive kind. And the faint rustle of someone shifting in the dark. He relaxed. Probably one of his siblings. Jason liked breaking in unannounced when he was in a mood, Tim treated locks like they were a mere suggestion, and Damien was Damien.
"Tim, if you're raiding my coffee stash again, at least leave some for me this time," Dick grumbled, flopping onto the couch without bothering to look.
Silence.
"Jason? Did you lose your keys, or are you here to eat all my leftovers again?" He paused. "Duke, if that's you, I—okay, actually, no idea why you'd be brooding in the dark, but it's been a long day, so I'm just gonna roll with it."
The silence stretched on, but Dick was too exhausted to care. Whoever it was, they could wait until morning. "Look, I’m on your side. Or, I will be in the morning when I’ve had some sleep." He yawned, dragging himself up off the couch and toward his bedroom. "I’ll make breakfast. We’ll talk then. Pancakes or eggs, your call. Just...try not to trash the place while I’m out, yeah?"
The figure didn’t move, and Dick didn’t wait for an answer. He fell into bed and passed out almost immediately.
---
When Dick woke up, the first thing he noticed was the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The second thing he noticed was the smell of coffee.
He frowned. Coffee? He hadn’t made any.
Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, on the counter, was a steaming mug of coffee and a note. Beside the note sat a printed receipt and a bag of fresh groceries.
Dick blinked, reaching for the note first. The handwriting was sharp and precise:
> "Not one of your siblings. Sorry for the confusion. Came to deliver a message, but your ‘brotherly’ assumption and hospitality caught me off guard. Your fridge was so pathetic it offended me, so I ordered you groceries. They should last a week. Try to survive the next visit. You seem like a stand-up guy. —K"
He stared at the note, then at the receipt. The assassin—or whoever they were—had bought him eggs, milk, bread, fresh vegetables, and even a few snacks.
Setting the note aside, Dick opened his fridge. Sure enough, it was freshly stocked. His two protein bars and box of expired cereal were still there, now dwarfed by the bounty of fresh food.
He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Only me,” he muttered, sipping the coffee. It was good. Better than what he usually bought.
Dick leaned against the counter, rereading the note. Whoever this “K” was, they clearly didn’t know how to keep things impersonal. And while the whole “message from an assassin” thing was technically alarming, he couldn’t help but feel amused.
“I guess I should be worried,” he mused aloud, glancing at the groceries again. “But hey, at least they care about my nutrition.”
It was the weirdest start to a morning he’d had in a while, but for Dick Grayson, that wasn’t saying much.
this is like my all time favorite thing about the robins ever (i have this video liked, fav'd, and saved from tiktok oml)
I LOVE STALKER TIM
Had this idea a month ago, it was supposed to be fully animated at some point but… 😬 didn’t work out lol
Had to pull out after effects for this one pls appreciate my death wish
Dick Grayson: You ever think that if you had said no to Tim being the next Robin he would've become a villain instead?
Bruce Wayne spits his drink out on shock.
Bruce Wayne: I thought I was jumping to conclusions!
Dick: Yeah, nah I love Tim, he's my brother, but... Jesus Christ this could've been an Incredibles situation. So I'm glad you put aside how you usually are and let him work with you.
Bruce: Thank you... Wait what do you mean how I usually am?
Dick stands and walks off.
Bruce: The silence speaks volumes!
Dick: Don't care.
I fully support Tim being a caffeine addict, just not a coffee one. This is because I’ve been someone who self medicated with sugar and energy drinks, fizzy drinks and fatty food, and that is like Tim Drake.
Cheap and easy ways to get through a day like having take out instead of cooking a meal so he has more time to work on cases or instead of having a shower to wake him up in the morning he has a Redbull or snacks on a bag of candies.
It’s the small, almost unnoticeable high you get from eating sweets that I think he likes. He’s not the type to acknowledge his flaws or problems, even without being a Bat it’s just not how he’s written very often unless it’s something big, so I think using sugar as a means of anti-depressant is more in lined with who he is. I’m pretty its dopamine you get but don’t quote me on that one.
Also people use treats and Zesti’s as bribes when they piss him off and that’s just a a fact.
Plus, he canonically hates the taste of coffee so it just makes sense.
I’m trying to read more of the comics buts it’s so hard to find things in the right order and timeline, but this is something that seems pretty typical of Tim Drake as well as just a teenager/young adult.
Plus I’ve been doing that a lot lately and I like projecting onto him lol
Tim who can and will sleep anywhere.
It’s not just a matter of falling asleep at his desk or while at the dinner table, though those things do happen.
No, he’s fallen asleep in the middle of a sparring. He had a tired look on his face while going agasint Dick and then shrugged and said, “we’ll finish later.” Then laid down right there and went to sleep.
He’s been found in some odd places, most of which are not at all comfortable.
Some examples being:
The floor of the kitchen, with a packet of chips gripped in his hand like a lifeline and his legs tucked up under him like a frog.
Under Bruce’s bed and he was only found before sometimes he snores like a little kitten.
In the trunk of Dick’s car after he made it back to Blud. He even had a line of drool coming from his mouth as his brother promptly freaked out.
On top of the fridge during a big heat wave, half dangling off with his arms and legs over the side and head tilted at an off angle.
In the shower’s of the cave with the water running over his head as he curled into a ball, leaving Jason to go in and be faced with Tim’s pale ass staring at him. (He panicked and instead of Turing away he kicked Tim in the ass and was not sorry for even a second. He’s traumatised.)
In Barbara’s chair. She didn’t even notice him come into the tower until he was crawling into her lap and gave her a mumbled greeting before conking out instantly, somehow bypassing her security which he genuinely cannot do normally.
In the pool room with his feet in the water and socks on his hands for some unknown reason.
He doesn’t do it unless he feels safe, and he’s easy to wake up in cases of an emergency, and so everyone feels sort of proud when he chooses them. It’s not always he seeks someone out, but most members of the family start checking under their bed and in their closest (he got quite a few jokes after that one) just in case they have been Chosen.
Most people think it’s not often he sleeps without being exhausted, but he’s a power napper and will take any chance he has free to do so.
You must be careful moving him because he tends to smack people. He will push and whine at you if you try, grumbling like a petulant teenager about needing out ‘five more minutes’. Damian learnt this the hard way when he tried to move Tim from his bedroom doorway and Tim kicked him in the shin.
He can be calmed down if you put chamomile tea under his nose but this might wake him up in a mood as he demands more tea for being disturbed.
Bruce made it a rule that Tim must be checked on if he hasn’t said or done anything for a while after he was found under the Batmobile in a plank position.
I made myself sad thinking about Tim being alone at his home when growing up and only having someone to talk to when he went to school and so I decided to make him a cat but because it’s Tim it’s not going to be that simple:
Instead:
Imagine Tim who accidently gets a witches familiar.
It starts when he’s six and his parents flight was delayed so he decides to use the extra time to go find some wild flowers in the backyard forest to bring them. He doesn’t know the space very well but he knows enough to make sure he can always see the manner he lives in and keeps a torch and a few snacks with him just in case.
When he first sees the shadow like figure in the corner of his eye the little boy freaks out but manages to calm down enough to take the dozen flowers he had and start heading back. He feels something watching him all the way home and that night when he looks out his window Dow he swears he see more movement.
He swears to leave it be because lords knows he’s too young to be dealing with ghost and monsters.
But there’s one problem that will never change in regards to Tim Drake: he’s too curious.
Once his parents leave again Tim is back on the border of the forest and calls out a cautious ‘hello?’ Into the small kingdom of trees.
Nothing happens and so the next time he brings an offering in the form of a pile of nuts, a pair of his mums earrings she had thrown in the bin because they were apparently unsightly after the turn of the century, as well as a marshmallow from his very secret and special stash.
The next day he found a four holed button the colour of one of the Aster flowers he had given his parents when he first felt the presence.
He made it into a bracelet and wore it proudly for the next few days before his dad made him take it off before a gala.
Luckily the thing in the forest didn’t seem to take offence and instead he found the charm he had left on his desk safely hanging from his window sill without his input.
Tim brought several gifts for his new mysterious friend, mainly marshmallows and bits of his mums jewlery she was didn’t wear anymore.
Whenever he left nuts or any other kind of food it was never moved, even other sweets and treats stayed where he left them.
It’s a year after this little tradition starts that Tim actually sees the presence that he had been calling ‘Curious’.
It’s from a distance as he’s going through photos of Batman on his window sill, legs tucked up and back pressed against the wooden frame that brackets the window. He looks up periodically to the small pile of marshmallows he’s left on a plate just where the woods start, waiting for them to suddenly vanish before he goes to bed, when he looks up and sees it.
It’s tall, as tall as the trees and cloaked in shadows and darkness, so much so it’d be impossible to miss even if the light of his room wasn’t shining out towards it.
Tim gasps silently but doesn’t look away or feel fear, because something in him just knows that this is his friend. This is Curious.
Instead he finds himself smiling, possibly beaming at the animated dark before him.
Curious doesn’t smile back or wave or anything and yet Tim can feel a relief and happiness that’s second to his own and yet feels like it’s his.
When Tim blinks the shadows have reached out to lift the marshmallows into its veil like form, long fingers that seem twice the amount of a humans curl like spider legs around the surgery sweets and then they are lost in the dark of its form.
Tim goes to sleep that night with excitement and hope in his heart, a burning curiosity in his heart as hundreds of questions and theories rattle his brain, but it’s all unimportant compared to the fact that he has a friend at home.
He has someone to, in a way, live with.
The next morning he wakes to his alarm and a heavy weight on his chest.
Tim opens his eyes to see a fluffy monstrosity of a cat, big golden eyes hidden in light brown and grey fur staring at him with so much knowing and understanding. It’s more than even Ives shows him when Tim brushes off questions about his parents.
He knows just as he did the night before that this is Curious.
His Curious.
He cautiously reached a hand to pat the fur and watches his hand disappear into the soft fur like its quicksand. When a loud purr, slightly echoing like its not quite real, rumbles through the little body Tim beams again and squeezes the feline shape as close as he can.
Curious doesn’t leave Tim’s side very often, only when Tim goes bathroom does he give him space. When Tim starts training to be Robin Curious shifts his body into Tim’s shadow so he can follow without having to deal with Batman’s security rules.
Curious follows Tim when he goes to train with Shiva, when he goes to space with his team, when he goes on his trip around the world to save Bruce, but it’s painful for the little familiar because Tim isn’t actually a witch.
Which means there is no power for Curious to draw from and so it’s unable to help at all.
It can change its form but the only physical contact it can make is with its master, it can’t fight with Tim or defend him when he needs it.
And yet Tim doesn’t mind.
While Curious feels like a failure for being unable to do anything for his master, Tim rewards it all the time. Constantly is he giving it new necklaces for its cat shape and marshmallows when they stay guard all night while he sleeps.
In the face of such powerlessness, Curious vows to find ways to help its Tim.
So, it’s a sentry of a sort. No one can sneak up on Tim Drake or Red Robin, because he will always just know that someone is there. No one ever suspects that it’s his weirdly attached cat or his own shadow alerting him with a soul like connection.
Everyone in the family knows that Tim has a cat, because one time Damian got all mopey at dinner and complained that the stray cat he found around the manner lawns wasn’t being his friend no matter what he did.
He ranted about how he brought it food and water and toys but the unnaturally fluffy cat would just stare at him before running off.
When Tim realises that he means Curious he snorts, making Damian glare at him and demand to know what he finds so funny.
Tim simply makes a ‘sst’ like sound twice and suddenly the big cat his waltzing out from under the table and into Tim’s lap.
Damian is furious but mostly embarrassed, acting like he’s upset that Tim didn’t tell him he had a cat when instead he’s upset that he befriended a cat Damian couldn’t.
Tim explains that Curious has been his cat for years and doesn’t like anyone else, so not to take it personally, and when they ask what the gender is Tim reply’s cryptically, “it doesn’t like gender.”
No one knows what to say to that as Tim leaves the room with the cat in his arms, but they all witness the cat lean over his shoulder and lick a long black tendril over his own face.
Bruce nearly sprains something with how quickly he stands up.
I have found I have a great love for Feral Tim Drake. This is a Tim Drake who has built his own moral code in an echoing, empty house and tracking vigilantes across rooftops. First it should be noted that Tim’s loyalty is tied closer to Robin than it is to Batman. That his motivation for blackmailing Bruce to become Robin was more toward saving Robin’s Dad and Robin’s legacy than saving Batman.
Little Tim Drake is Obsessively, Desperately, Dangerously protective of the Robin legacy and his predecessor Robins, particularly Robin #2 Jason Todd. It becomes well known in Gotham, really quickly that it is not a good idea to insult Robin while Robin #3 is around.
As always, I have no idea what is cannon here.
Like, if you insult Robin #3 to his face, you will get a laugh and an agreement-He will still stop you from your crimes but you won’t end up extra hurt. If you insult Robin in general, Robin #3 will be more aggressive in taking you down and you will get some extra bruises. If you insult Robin #1, you can expect at least one additional broken bone, which bone depends on the insult. However if you insult Robin #2, Robin #3 will bite and he will bite to the bone; you will be mauled and chances are Batman will have to pull Robin #3 off you.
Count of Bites, before all of Gotham got the point: 4 low level criminals, 3 civilians (all of which were drunk, belligerent, and woke up the next day confused about their injuries), no less than 16 assorted Goons, and The Penguin.
I want you to take a moment to picture Batman, who got a bit less violent after getting Robin #3 but got substantially less violent because he had to be a tired dad prying his little gremlin’s jaws off The Penguin. Everyone is distinctly uncomfortable with Batman apologizing to The Penguin.
So Gothamites, no matter the type, learned that one does not insult Robin #2 ever. In fact avoid insulting Robins, unless you are specific enough to be insulting Robin #3 (Though they would not have cause to know for several more years, this protectiveness extended to both Robin #4, the girl Robin, and Robin # 5, the Stabby Robin). Batman gets less violent by virtue of now chasing after a child with negative fear responses (Seriously, Scarecrow once dosed him with his latest fear gas and Robin #3 did not even appear to notice). Gotham, as a whole (Goons, Civilians, all of the other Rogues, other vigilantes) and without consulting each other, decides that Robin #3 and The Joker cannot ever meet. There is a herculean, sustained effort by all of the Rogues and Goons to keep the Joker distracted until Batman can send Robin away whenever the Joker breaks out. Consensus is that no one quite knows which will come out victorious, but there would be substantial damage. Also, Robin would end up biting the Joker and no one is sure what the Joker’s blood would do to him.
We fast forward to Red Hood taking over Crime Alley. He does not notice but the first time he ranted about Robin every one of his subordinates, plus the three Black Mask Goons in the room, flinches. They all relax when it becomes clear that the Robin Red Hood takes offense to is Robin #3. No one quite knows how to tell Red Hood that, for his health, he should stop insulting Robins (there had never been any real discussion about it). Black Mask and Ivy, at separate times, try to awkwardly pass on the warning but did not quite get the message across (there really is no way to phrase “The tiny child in the traffic light colors is dangerous and will do you actual damage if you disparage his personal hero, the dead Robin”).
As soon as it got around that Red Hood hunts Robins, with Robin #3 specifically being a target, Batman does ship him out to Titan Tower at once, but not for the reason that Red Hood thinks. It is not actually to protect Robin, not really. It’s because Batman has figured out that Red Hood was once Jason, and he knows down to his bones that Tim’s moral compass stays on this side of the killing line because he believes that both Jason and Dick would have a problem with him killing. If he finds out that Jason, the preferred of the two, is ok with killing, that line goes out the window. And then Batman is going to need to put Robin on a child leash.
So Red Hood goes to attack a Robin far from the nest and it starts about how he expected. He got in a few good hits, and his replacement actually does have some decent moves. Then Jason makes a disparaging remark about ‘the Robin that died’ that, had he been allowed to finish his sentence, would have circled back around to insulting Tim. However he was not allowed to finish his sentence because instead of fighting on human teen, he was suddenly fighting some kind of demon (metaphorically), who in between mauling him (and how the fuck is this kid biting through kevlar, Jason would like to know) is screaming about how Red Hood was not allowed to talk about Tim’s Robin like that.
For a few moments Red Hood gets to realize Robin is not locked in with him, he is locked in with Robin. Then one of Robin’s attacks pulls off the helmet (no bombs at this time, thankfully). As soon as Tim sees Jason’s face he stops attacking and hugs him tightly, babbling about how good it is to see him alive and apologizing for attacking him as Tim thought it was just some villain being disrespectful. Tim pulls him through to the med bay to treat his injuries.
While Jason is being treated, and they wait for the lockdown to lift, Jason is struck by the realization that if he even implied he wanted it, Tim would go try to collect the Joker’s head for him. This is quickly followed by the terrifying realization that Jason is 45% of this child’s moral compass (With Dick being about 30% with the remaining 25% being all Tim).
The Pit Rage is practically running from this level of crazy.
Jason finds himself escorting Tim back to the Cave, with Jason low key panicking. While there is some sympathy in the form of Dick, it turns out that Dick and Tim have a similar way of thinking (except where Tim imprinted on the two Robins, Dick imprinted on Bruce and Alfred) and the same recklessness. It’s Bruce that Jason finds himself bonding with (Is Jason weirded out by the fact that, of his siblings, Jason-with his supernaturally enhanced anger and the bag of heads- is the most stable? Yes, Yes it does) as he desperately tries to keep Tim from doing damage (both physical and psychic) other people.
Tim, holding something behind his back: don’t be mad.
Bruce, already getting mad: I won’t get mad, you can always talk to me. What’s going on?
Tim, revealing a swaddled baby: I messed up when cloning Kon and accidently spilt my DNA into it and now I have a clone baby with my dead situationship.
Bruce, flabbergasted: ..???
Bruce: why were you cloning- when did you start datin- I’m a grandpa?! No, go back, how did you ‘accidently’ spill DNA aren’t you paranoid too????
Tim, who may or may not have been crying over one of the clones and accidently cut his lip trying not to sob and got blood into a test chamber: that’s not important.
Bruce, hyperventilating: why is it so small????
Tim: cause she’s only two months old.
Bruce; I understand that, but even an average two month old should be-…
Bruce: two.
Bruce: you said two months.
Tim: you said you wouldn’t get mad.
Bruce: you hid a baby for TWO MONTHS?!
Tim: I WAS PANICKING LEAVE ME ALONE!
Bruce: IVE BEEN A GRANDPA FOR TWO MONTHS AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME?!
Tim: WELL! I don’t know I’m seventeen, what did you expect?
Bruce, actively loosing brain cells: if you can clone your dead boyfriend-
Tim: we never actually started dating-
Bruce: -then you can tell your father you had a baby.
Tim: …
Tim: I’m not exactly sure what stage of being an adult I am, I started a little young I think.
Tim: but I am a mother now so don’t you dare yell at me.
Bruce: …
Tim: …
Bruce: …
Bruce: … can I hold her?
Tim, grinning in victory: wash your hands first and then you can.
LATER:
Bruce: why is she a girl if you and Kon are both male?
Tim: are you questioning my baby’s gender??? That’s so homophobic, gay men can raise girls.
Bruce: you know damn well I didn’t mean-