#Nightwing: *struggling to stay upright through his laughter* how are they so close and yet SO VERY FAR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoenixcatch7 · 8 months

Text

Wayne doll house: demon children.

Idea: each of the batkids is theorised to have a different origin.

Thing is, there's so many of them. The oldest is actually the youngest in body. It seems to be able to share memories with those who follow. It changes design right before a new bat appears.

The hero in the town over is definitely one of them, but what's it doing over there?? Asking just gets non-answers.

What happened to the ones that the Joker tried to destroy? One - the oldest and smallest - came back, but different, whereas the other - the purple and orange one - came back for a while and then vanished again for good.

None of them seem to age??

The first, smallest, oldest, it seemed to be some sort of circus performer? It gave its acrobatics to the blue one when it arrived, grew clever and defensive. It gave that to the skull headed red one, focused on technology and detective work after the Incident. Then again, and again, and one time even the bat changed along with it, but though the bat returned to normal the little Robin didn't, and now it's just as stabby and creative as it is small and creepy.

It's a good sort of creepy now, after over a decade of beating up bad guys and comforting victims, Gotham has gotten used to it, but outsiders don't much like it.

The justice league have a different opinion.

They know, or at least can observe, that the... Souls? Brains? Programs? Switch around, that it's not memories but persons that bring the new bats to life.

They just don't know where batman gets them. The new one, especially, is very circumspect.

For all this talk of the blood son, all the bats calling it demon child with varying levels of fondness, the way batman doesn't deny the claims...

Thing is the bat doesn't have blood. Everyone's well aware of this by now. Whatever sulpheric black tar he and the bats leak probably-certainly isn't blood, or at least... Not anything with dna.

So... What blood?? If not the bat's, why does it tie the newest mind of Robin to him?

Captain marvel is the first to think of an idea.

A blood child of a demon for a blood ritual for a demon.

Constantine and Zatanna second the notion - it's perfectly possible. Reasonable, even. The bat admitted himself he had no way to procreate the way humans did, nor any interest in doing so. Wanting a legacy was perfectly normal.

Except he already had, what, seven, eight, nine kids? He loved all of them, it was clear, and he'd always seemed happy with them. He'd even sighed over how many he had, had rebuffed the teasing about getting more. The new Robin mind had been a surprise to everyone, and the old one in a new body had been a little salty about it.

So the new theory was that batman hadn't decided to get a new Robin. Maybe the old mind had been ejected unwillingly! It had happened at roughly the same time batman had gotten a new personality - maybe the incidents were related?

But if batman hadn't done the ritual... Who had?

Who would do something like that???

Cultists. Cultists would do something like that. But giving the bat a son unwillingly seemed... A very odd goal, even for that type.

So... Had they messed up? Had they tried to summon the bat with a blood sacrifice ritual, and summoned a demon instead? Had it partially worked? Was the bat susceptible to demon summonings?? Did the summoning damage his own mind/consciousness/soul in some way, and that led to the creation of the new demon child while the bat changed until he'd healed????

How kind of batman to take it in!

Tldr; the league thinks Robin V is a demon born/created through a failed summoning ritual involving blood sacrifice that made batman like puns until he healed. The truth is the canon events of Damian arriving at the manor only for b to get tossed into the time stream, becoming the Robin to nightwing-batman while Tim, who is much less annoyed about it than canon, focuses on getting him back. Lmao.

#Batman overhearing this absolute conspiracy of a theory: *head in his hands*#Nightwing: *struggling to stay upright through his laughter* how are they so close and yet SO VERY FAR #Damian: father. I have decided on a new origin story. I wish to tweak it to include the league of assassins however.#Batman: I can't believe I'm saying this but please just keep using the pun about wood.#One theory considered and rejected is that Alfred created Damian #However Alfred absolutely would not have done it without B knowing and approving lol #batman #possessed doll au #bruce wayne #damian wayne #Dc Robin v #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam

645 notes · View notes

misstring · 4 years

Text

The Secret I Almost Uncovered (Tim Drake x Reader)

Reader Gender: There is no mention of any gender.

Warnings: Nothing particular that stands out.

Synopsis: Security guards at museums working graveyard shifts have one of the most reports to do with broken glass, burglaries, and vigilantes falling through the glass roof.

Other notes: Reader is working as a security guard and at a cafe.

Working at a museum is like working in another world, all of the tools, mummies, paintings, and other priceless artifacts take you back into time. Working a graveyard shift as a security guard in a museum that is located in the heart of Gotham is like working with electrons. An electron can be anywhere at any point of time, likewise, at any moment, lights can flash by the windows, a window can crack, or even, on occasion, a vigilante, not Batman, will fall through the ceiling.

Tonight, it was a Ti--I mean-- Drake that fell through the ceiling. At least I think it is. All I see is brown and going from process of elimination, Batman--dark blue or black--, Nightwing--in Bludhaven but otherwise blue, very blue--, Red Hood--red and gray, generally--, and the little guy, Robin,--bright red and green, to the point you can see him from across the city if you are high up enough-- it is. There is also the fact that he stayed on the floor for 15 minutes before he actually got up and took a deep breath in and sighed.

I brought over a first-aid kit but by the time I managed to gather up the courage to speak to him, he vanished leaving a note reading 'Sorry, will have a check sent to fix it later'

I mean, sure. They all did that and who sent the check? Batman? No. Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne. Since when did they have a connection with him? Is it part of the job? There were times when the Waynes would donate large sums of money to help out organizations and there were stories of when someone from that family helps out an average citizen in Gotham, struggling to make a living.

Ah, Gotham. I call it the City of Perpetual Darkness. It can be night and it'll be dark, during the day when the sun is shining down as bright as it can, the pollution is enough to darken the sky. People cough, left, right, and center, there is crime happening behind every building, in alleyways, and, ever since Batman showed up, a crazy lunatic rallied up a bunch of people and used the symbol of fun and laughter for fear and terror--an author wrote a horror story of one in the sewers, luring kids in--haven’t read it, heard it was good.

I finished brushing up the shattered glass, which scattered the floor. After taping the location off and writing the report, I ended my shift as the next guy started. I nod, my eyes already partially closing as I haven't been able to sleep with the mayhem the past couple of days. He sighs out as he reads my report. I sign out and leave.

Gotham is never safe for anyone. You can be Oswald Cobblepot and still be in danger. Last I know, someone saw him fighting Red Hood. That was a while ago, though. See, there's a danger for everyone, yet no one wants to leave. It has this addictive aura where once you are hooked, the symptoms of leaving are withdrawing into oneself, looking off into the distance towards Gotham City for extended periods of time, and feeling like a part of your soul is missing.

I look up. People scream all the time, but this one was different. It was not the normal scream of fear or joy, rather a yell of frustration. I'm intrigued. Watching people in pain? Not my thing. Trying to help out someone in trouble? Last time I did that, I was sent to the hospital for several weeks and undergone several surgeries. I am perfectly healthy now and I do not want to ruin that streak. Do I dare, though, a quick glance as to the source of this cry?

The alleyway comes up. I dare, more than a quick glance.

Brown, that almost blended in with the dirt but the shine of the golden stripes gave him away. I stay silent and watch as he taps the brick wall and asks "Why?" He looks up again and aims a gun towards the sky. A grappling hook shoots out of the open end, into the sky and grabs onto the top of the building. He pulls on it and it falls off the building. He falls on his back and sighs. He moves his hand towards his ear and says "Will be late, taking a nap," before falling asleep in the middle of Gotham.

Where are his parents?!

A small figure scales down the building and lands next to Drake. He looks down, slaps Drake a bit and says, "Drake, get up," rather loud and it echoes off the wall. The little figure looks at me. "What do you want? I will kill you if you take another step towards us."

I look around me, no one. Who is he talking to? Oh, wait. He's talking to me!

"Yes, I am talking to you, " he had a sword out in front of him. "Stop looking around like a bumbling idiot."

Okay, he's a rude one.

Before I can answer, Drake gets up and stops the little one from charging at me. He looks at me with recognition and smiles, “You’re that security guard from the glass-roofed museum. Thank you for always bringing us the first aid kit when we fall through the roof.”

The little one exclaims something, but I do not listen; my phone is ringing. I answer my phone and my boss yelled at me, asking where I was. I glance at the time, I ran.

I got into the shop 10 minutes later than usual, but I managed to sneak in a small nap before starting my shift. One of my co-workers had taken cover for an hour into my shift and I started later than usual. He hands me a macchiato with four shots of espresso, my favorite. I thank him and I clock in. It was still dark outside, a couple of hours before anyone in the city would even start to trickle in.

“Hello, what would you like today?” I say, as a small figure comes to the front. I recognized him, Robin, or the little one.

He looks at the board and then at me, “May I have a--” his face showed surprise before it was replaced by his normal scowl, “Oh, it’s you.”

I nod.

He just sighs and asks, “May I bring in Drake so he can rest in the corner?”

I looked to the back, no one was there. Everyone left and I was the only one in the store, aside from the little one. “Yes.”

Relief spreads through his otherwise tense expression. He goes outside and half carries a partially unconscious man. “Come on, Drake,” he whispers out, trying to carry the taller man, but only succeeding in keeping him upright and dragging across the floor. I hurry over and help him onto a bench, bringing him a blanket I kept in my locker for my naps.

His head turns towards Robin and he asks, “You promised to get me coffee.”

Robin clicks his tongue and scowls, “Tell me that when you slept for more than 20 minutes per night. I do not care if your friends are in danger, or if you have to solve this case to save hundreds. If you cannot take care of yourself, you cannot take care of anyone else.”

“Dami,” He whispers out before falling asleep.

He turns towards me and apologizes for the inconvenience. I offer him a cup of hot chocolate and he deepens his scowl. “I am not a child.”

“I never said you were,” I say, fixing myself a cup of hot chocolate alongside the other one. I place the cup in front of him and as I drink my drink at the front. No one really cared except for the owner, who was not in at the moment.

Police sirens whiz by and Robin stands up, “Someone will be back for him,” he says, leaving the café through the front door.

I collect the two empty cups. He may act like an adult but he still had his childlike innocence within him, minuscule, but prevailing. What an interesting turn of events.

I wash the dishes and as I set the cups on the drying rack to dry, Tim-- I mean-- Drake sits up and shouts, “Damian!” He looks around with his eyes wide as he realized two things: 1. He wasn’t in his safe house or wherever he goes after the vigilante work, and 2. He just gave away Robin’s secret identity. Or maybe more, but I wouldn’t know.

“Good to see that you are alive. Robin said someone would be here for you soon,” I say, picking up my Wonder Woman blanket from the floor--she is a great person, Princess Diana, if you ever get the chance to meet and talk with her.

“I-- Where am I?” he asks me.

I smile and point to the top of the menu which had the store name.

“Who are you?” he asks me, looking intently at my face.

“I can ask the same for you, Timothy Drake-Wayne. You aren’t what you show yourself to be.”

“Actually,” he says without missing a beat, “My name is Drake because Tim Drake gave me my name. He insisted that I use Drake. What am I, a duck?”

I burst out laughing. “What? Is your name Alvin, or something silly like that?”

He looks at me with seriousness coated over his face. “How did you know?”

How did I know? How did I know what? His name? “It was a random guess,” I still my laughter.

He sighs and as sirens whiz by in the opposite direction, he says, “Well, I’ve got to go. Hope business is well,” He leaves through the door calling out, “Thank you for letting me take a nap here.”

“Wait!” I call out behind him, but it was too late.

Gotham has many secrets. Some are buried with people, others buried through lies. I tried to uncover them. The mystery shrouding the vigilantes; I was so close to uncovering one, so close to blowing out the cloud from my vision before my one chance slipped through my fingers.

Why do I still love this city?

---Fin.

Thank you for reading! This is also published on wattpad and ao3.

19 notes · View notes