Yo here have this dp x dc snippet from ages ago I forgot I wrote until I found it just now lol:
Joker had died just after sunset, when darkness had settled fully on Gotham. Beaten horribly with a blunt, metal object of sickeningly familiar description, then finally killed in the concussive force of an explosion from the various bombs the warehouse had been filled with.
It felt obvious who it had to be.
Except, of course, that Dick was looking at cctv footage and official court documents showing just how fucking impossible it was for Jason to have finally taken the clown out for good.
At the time everything had to have happened his little brother was across the city, in a public place, with official witnesses.
Official, official witnesses. They - one Margaret Tinsel - had signed their name as such, right next to their notary stamp and the date on the marriage license.
Marriage License.
Because Jay had been over at the courthouse next to city hall getting married.
Dick only found out he’d been dating Jasmine Nightingale a couple of weeks ago. He hadn’t even properly met her yet, just saw her from the roof across the street as she and Jay sat on her fire escape sharing a pint of ice cream, laughing and looking stupidly adorable and smitten with each other. And now they’re married.
How in the fuck was he going to explain this? Bruce was already spiraling on the idea that Jay had killed Joker, he’d want specific details on just how tight of an alibi Jason had for the crime. He’d want to see that proof himself.
And then he’d want to talk to Jay. Who hadn’t told any of them what the fuck was going on in his personal life. Who had very purposefully tried to keep Jasmine Nightingale - shit, no she applied for a name change, they both had, they were both Nightingale-Todd now - away from the family and their meddling.
Babs on the other end of the line seemed to share his utter loss over the situation.
“I did some digging.” She said, drawn out enough to let him know that whatever she found - while not bad - sure as shit wasn’t going to make things any easier to explain. “They’ve uh…as best I can tell, they’ve been dating for about three years now.”
Three years.
Jesus Christ. How in the hell is he going to break that news? Did he even break that news? That’s something that Jay should do.
Except Jay just got married less than two hours ago at the same time the Joker was violently - and karmically satisfyingly - murdered and there was absolutely no way that letting Bruce go over there to talk to Jay while all Batman-ed up was going to lead to anything but a fight, which means that he has to break that news or else Jay and his new wife - his wife holy fucking shit - are going to have to deal with a pissed off Batman on their honeymoon and -
“Oh.” Tim said from where he’d come to stand at Dick’s shoulder at some point during his internal freak out. “I guess they decided to do the courthouse thing after all.”
The train wreck of Dick’s thought process, at that point, entirely exploded.
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I really want to explore Tim “rich kid” Drake spending time with his friends and them just slowly realizing that Robin is even weirder than they thought.
Like, Arrowette complains about some press event or something that her mom wants her to go to and Robin just starts listing off advice and unspoken rules and tells her to absolutely avoid the shrimp cocktails unless she wants an early out, in which case the correct amount to eat is one and a half shrimp with only a bit of cocktail sauce, which will be enough to change her complexion and convince people she doesn’t feel well and allow her to escape to the restroom, then she just needs to slip out one of the windows-
Or Wonder Girl commenting on, like, a science fair project or something and he just goes “Science fairs are the worst. Everyone wants to buy your services to make them something, not understanding that you’re richer than they are and that an insult to you could lead to you buying their parents’ companies if they don’t shut up. They’re lucky I have an even temper…” WG: “…wat.”
Superboy is like “man, Superman’s trying to convince me to clean my room. What should I do?” and Tim just stares blankly at him because nobody has ever told him to clean his room before and he’s never cleaned his room before and he had no idea Clark was so cruel and-
Impulse: “Hey, Rob, pass me a can opener.”
Robin, staring into the drawer, fifteen can openers right in front of his eyes: “We don’t have one.”
I just want Tim to inexplicably not know some things because he’s never had to know them. I want him to explicably know things because he had to know them. I want the things he does know and the things he doesn’t to be totally backwards to everyone, who are all wondering why Robin knows how to hotwire a car but does not know how to work a vacuum cleaner.
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Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.
Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.
Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.
But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.
He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.
"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.
Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.
Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.
Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.
Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.
Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.
"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"
Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.
Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.
Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.
Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.
Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster
Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.
No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.
Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.
Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.
Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.
In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.
He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.
Step 3. Profit
Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.
[Unknown: It's RR.]
[Deathstroke: New phone?]
[RR: Who dis?]
[Deathstroke: What?]
[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]
[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]
[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]
[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]
Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.
[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]
[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]
[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]
[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]
----
Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.
"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."
Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.
[Waller: It's done.]
[Waller: I will find you.]
[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]
Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.
He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.
One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.
----
Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful
Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch
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