Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP X DC Part 4

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.

Not DDD but some tooth rotting fluff with Dadwing that I had written a while ago.

Dick had always had a kinda 6th sense when it came to Damian, they had been Batman and Robin together, *the* dynamic duo! So he knew when his little brother was upset, more so than usual.

It started after a failed capture, the Riddler had been out of Arkham for over 3 weeks, the longest that he had been out for quite some time.

Bruce had finally found Eddie's hiding spot and was staking him out for some time, trying to determine whether the Riddler was truly there or this was once again a decoy safe house.

Bruce regretfully has the communication skills of a particularly grumpy slug and failed to properly give Damian the brief on what he was doing after joining his father from a round of patrols with Dick.

It really truly wasn't Damian's fault that he rushed in and only really succeeded in flushing out the Riddler and driving him to ground once more.

And once again, Bruce the grumpy slug scowled, let out a grunt and demanded Damian back to the cave, further not explaining why Bruce tried to stop him from taking down the Riddler and why he didn't pursue.

---

Dick was surprised to come out of the locker rooms of the cave to his youngest brother, practically shaking with rage as he not so carefully pulled off his suit, and what was the most concerning to Dick was the quiet, but still angry mutterings coming from the boy.

Dick felt a pang in his chest at the words, his Arabic was not the best but he could tell more than a few foul words slipping from Damians lips, taking a small breath to prepare, Dick slowly approached his little brother, holding his hands up in surrender even before speaking.

"Hey Babybat? Dami? You okay kiddo? What are you-" Dick stopped mid sentence at the scathing glare that was leveled at him, blinking a few times as his brother collected himself enough to speak clearly, but his voice was rough with emotion, and his accent that was usually hidden away came back harder. (Something that Dick realized that Jason and Damian shared, the angrier they are the more they go back to their roots.)

"Do not attempt to placate me Richard, I am not playing your foolish games nor am I wanting to speak of my feelings, so I simply ask you to leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone." At the end the boys words were ground out as he threw down the Robin chest plate and stromed past Dick, heading to the showers.

---

Dick knew it was a little bit risky, but something was clearly upsetting his little brother greatly, so here he was, standing outside of Damians room, letting out a small sigh, Dick softly knocked on the door.

Two short, one long: U

Three long: O

One long, one short, one long: K

Morse code, one of the first no vocal languages that all the birds and the Bats knew, Dick and Damian had used it more than a few times on the field.

The only thing that Dick received from that was a dull thud of something being thrown at the door and the much softer sound of it falling to the floor, but the rest of the room was an inky black.

Letting out a sigh, the oldest of the Wayne children grabbed onto the doorhandle and slowly turning it, pushing the door in as he popped his head in, seeing the sacrificed plush animal laying on the ground where it was thrown

Dick felt guilty being glad it wasn't a knife.

"Dami? Little D? Kiddo I am going to come in..."

Opening the door more, Dick slipped into the dark room, spacial awareness helped Dick circumvent the few basic traps laid around his little brothers room, and made his way over to the boy's bed.

Eyes adjusting to the dark quickly, Dick could see the small outline of his brother shaking under the covers, looking so small in the king-sized bed, sitting on the edge, Dick laid a hand on where he thinks Damians hip is, feeling his heart break a little at the small jump he felt as he did.

"Can you talk to me? Please? I want to help kiddo." The only response he got was a shaky drawn in breath and the form under the blankets shifting, sitting up and revealing his younger brother.

His jade green eyes practically glowed in the dark of the room, Damians glare more tired than angry.

(It was times like these that Dick had to force himself to believe that Damian was just his brother, that the boy was not his son, wasn't the boy he raised for a year and a half as his own)

Shuffling closer to the center of the bed, Dick softly placed his forehead on the boy's own before pulling back after a second, he had learnt that little touches of affection got him a lot farther (and a lot less stabbed) with Damian.

Sitting back Dick watched as Damian crawled over, closing the distance between them and leaned his head onto Dicks shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed as he took in several deep breaths, calming himself even further.

Dick didn't dare move while Damian re-centered only snaking his arms around the smaller boy once he felt Damian go slack against him, softly cradling Damian in his arms as he pressed a soft kiss to the boy's spiky locks.

They stayed that way for a while, Dick gently rocking them both as he held his younger brother, silently waiting for Damian to speak first.

"...Father is an idiot..."

Blinking at the words that finally came out, Dick took it in stride, "For a man that is called the worlds greatest detective he can't see two feet in front of him when his loved ones are involved."

Silence lapsed after a little while, only breaking again as Damian pulled back from the hug, staring into Dicks powder blue eyes,

"...is it bad that some days I hate him Baba?" The words crush him, hitting at Dicks heart far worse than anything he had felt before, throat raw and itchy suddenly, Dick tried to not let Damians choice of words affect him.

(Dick has never heard Dami call Bruce Baba, only a ever respectful Father.)

"I-I, Um...I have felt way about B more than a few times Dames...He tries his best but sometimes...some times I do" There was a shine to Damians eyes as he looked into Dicks as the man continued softly "But I don't think it's bad...no I think you are just growing up...It...it's the beginning to when your seeing B how he can truly be like." (A scornful son of a bitch, only that Martha was a wonderful woman...)

Damians face grew distraught, and the shine pooled until soft tears ran down the boys face, "I do not wish to hate Father, but why can he simply not...speak to me? He has not spoke to me outside of case work for over three days and even during that no more than a few words..." leaning his head against Dicks shoulder, the boy's words were muffled slightly as he continued

"Is...is it wrong to expect more from him Baba?"

Dick didn't have any words for his Damian, because he sure as shit isn't Bruce's at the moment, sweeping the boy up into his arms, Dick hled him close while laying the two of them down, Dick on his back and his boy on his chest.

Running a hand through Damians soft hair, Dick thought hard of what to say, "I will speak to him...and maybe Tim...I know you two still have disagreements but honestly for some reason he listens to Tim more than even Alfred...you deserve so much more than that kiddo..."

Dick felt the soft shakes as Damian cried ontop of him, it broke the man's heart to smithereens that even while overwhelmed by emotions his boy still felt the need to try and be as quiet as possible.

Once he felt Damians shudders slow, an the boys breathing came back to a normal rate, Dick reached into his pants and pulled out his phone, "I think we both gotta unwind a little bud...have I ever shown you Bob Ross?"

---

(They watch till the sun peaks through the black out curtains, well, it plays that long, but the two where asleep for a lot longer than that.)

(Bruce gets a very long talking too by his kids, and gets the cowl taken away from him until he gets therapy)

(It only works a little.)

(He made a new one)

Oh worm?

Inspired by @bluerosefox and their idea for tiny Tim and little baby man Danny.

This might become a series if yall like it.

Tim cupped his hands together as he softly blew on his freezing fingers before rubbing them together to try and warm up.

He was out later than he usually dared, up on top of an apartment building, it was a hot spot for Batman and Robin when they came to Old Gotham because of the easy to grapple corners and ledges, plus a fire escape that when from the roof to street level! A perfect place for the bats to swing by.

Checking the time on his scrappy little prepaid flip phone, he had learned better than to take his real phone with him, on the extremely rare occasion his mother checked his location, it had happened once while he was out, and golly did he get an ear full.

He winced as he watched double digits turn to singles, he had been out too long. Sighing the boy stood with resolute disappointment, he had wanted to snap at least a few pictures of Batman and Robin before he had to head home.

Stepping down onto the fire escape, Tim carefully climbed down, but still skip the steps to get down faster, a quick pat on his side made sure that his little bundle of gift cards were still in his pocket.

His parents saw if he spent over a set amount on their credit card, so he just added a few 25 dollar prepaid visa card on top of his grocery bill.

Jumping down from the last step, Tim smiled a bit as he imagined himself doing the tricks he saw Robin do, well, both Robins. The new one was a bit more clumsy, but boy did he make up for it with the grin on his face.

Humming a bit to himself, Tim walked through the ever busy streets of Gotham, sure people looked at the small 11 year old boy wearing a far to big back pack and just sneered at the obvious rich kid, but Tim knew how to protect himself!

He had a bb gun that had the orange tip painted and he was not afraid to wield it!

Stopping in front of a Batburger, Tiny Tim hummed a but before going in, he had wanted to see if there was a new Robin figurine in their Batkid meal box.

---

Danny groaned as he clutched his side, he didn't want to to look down at it, didn't want to see the green ichor leaking between his fingers and down onto the pavement below him

Revealing he was a ghost to his parents was never something he had wanted to do, but Vlad had forced his hand.

Somehow he knew about Dan, knee of the destruction and terror he brought and envied, wanted to see Danny turn out just like him.

His family was targeted, one thing after the other, from car bomb to a lab accident, he didn't stop.

Danny had run himself ragged trying to save them, but...it almost hadn't been enough, Plasmius himself had to come to end them after his plans were foiled.

And to protect those he cared about the most he transformed right in front of his parents.

Only they stopped firing on Plasmius and onto *him*.

In the confusion Jazz had managed to capture Plasmius in a thermos, she tried to stop their parents from shooting Danny but...

They didn't see the son they raised anymore.

Just a filthy ghost that killed their son.

His core wailed in pain as he shuffled into an alleyway, his back pressing up against a wall as he tried to get his brain to think, he had known his parents loved him, but they very much did not love Phantom.

Holding back a pained whine as he slid down the wall and onto the ground, Danny looked up to the starless night sky, pollution had rotted the air, making it hard to see past the dim light of the moon.

He wanted the stars.

Why couldn't Clock Work send him to a place with stars to die?

Taking in a shaky breath the saccharine air, Danny let his head fall, finally looking at the chunk of himself that was missing, it was easily the size of his fist, he couldn't transform back into a human, or else he would simply bleed out.

He knew he shouldn't close his eyes, but he was just...so tired.

He knew what he needed to do but he didn't want to do it, his core let out a whimpering keen as he transformed again suppressing his thoughts and worries, shinking his body down to conserve ectoplasim, lessening his mind to his barest ghostly instincts to just get away from it all.

---

Tim swung his legs as he sat at the big booth all alone, slurping happily on his warm cup of hot coco he had splurged a bit sure but they came out with a new flavor!

He wondered how Nightwing felt about his supposed favorite drink, it didn't have much to do with him other than blue tinted whipped cream and hints of vanilla and carmel

Shaking his head, the boy hopped off the bench as his number was called by a bored teen that was working the late shift.

Grabbing his Batkid box in one hand and his shake in another, Tim said his thank yous as he walked through the door.

(his mother made sure he was a polite young man after all)

Deciding to find a nice place to eat before heading home, Tim set off into the night, swapping his drink between his hands to keep them warm.

Pausing for a moment as he crossed over an alleyway, Tim stilled and tried to listen again, hoping to hear what made him pause again.

That was a whimper alright, shuffling all his food into one hand, Tim fumbled for his flip phone before pulling it out and clicking on its meager flashlight.

He was pretty sure it was a kitten or something, he couldn't keep it, no matter how much he would love to have a friend over at his house, his father was allergic to nearly all of them and his mother thought Sphinx cats were ugly so it was a no go for Tim, but he could at least bring an injured kitten to a shelter.

Shining his phone into the dark alley way, green eyes welcomed him back.

"Ohhh boy, not...very much not a cat." Tim didnt know how to describe what he had stumbled upon, it couldn't be longer than a foot, it was kinda like snake with arms, human arms, and a human face, and with human hair.

It stared at Tim

Tim stared at It

It let out a soft, scared hiss.

Tim put his food down, took out a French fry and offered it to the little...thing.

That seemed to be enough for the little half shake half person...thing to slither over, grabbing the French fry with both of its hands and start to nibble on it.

Having never been told specifically *not* to touch things like this, Tim softly ran a finger over the little things head, cooing softly at the loud rumbling purr he got from it, "Oh your just a little guy..."

Giving it another frech frie after it finished the first, Tim looked around the alleyway to see if there were any other...things around, but only could see a faintly glowing puddle of goo, once again not specifically told not to touch it.

Tim touched the glowing goo. Tim being a curious 11 year old boy did what only an 11 year old boy would do when he finds a puddle of goo.

He put it in his mouth.

Tim did not like the taste of the goo.

"Blugh" was all he could saw as he scrambled over to his drink, taking a few long drags of his straw to get at the succulent, poorly nightwing themed drink.

There was a skittering snicker coming down from the little thing, which made Tim huff, "Should have known better, goo in Gotham is hardly good." That got another snicker.

Reaching down carefully, Tim softly stroked the long body of the little guy, transfixed on the feeling of both warmth and slick...scales? He didn't know, but up close he could see more of it, the little snake person thing had white bits, a blob of white thst looked kinda like a D on its chest, and pointed little ears as well.

His petting was rewarded with a purr that rumbled its whole body, but the purring stopped with a whimper as Tim's fingers brushed up against a not smooth side of the snake like body.

"Buddy...looks like you got hurt little guy..." Biting his lip, Tim thought about this...he wasn't told *not* to take home half snake half people before....

---

Danny knew two very important things.

Hand was good, felt nice on wiggle part.

And golden goodness that was given felt good in belly.

He wiggled and stretched in the very warm and comfy pocket he was placed in, the Hand was softly stroking his head, his ears were softly flapping as his core purred.

He could sense movement, and a slight shake of something else but couldn't tell what.

But he knew that Hand was warm and safe and didn't hurt.

And wasn't that all that was important?

The masterpost

I don't know how to do the fancy, tiny link shit cus imma be very, real with all yall...I am not a tumblr girly...

Okay so I made the links tiny but dear God, how do I make it those little things where it's (pry1) and you can just click on it? I can't search for shit and YouTube has forsaken me but I hope this helps people!

Dead Man's Diner

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

Champion and King

Pt 1

Welcome to Gotham

Pt1

(Inspired by @batarangsoundsdumb and their post about Dami leaving reviews on kidnapping)

(What is the other batfams response to this? They go and do it themselves as well)

Tim: They were surprisingly nice? One guy played cards with me, meh food tho, getting kidnapped seriously makes me hungry, a single snack pack isn't enough. 2/5 would have gotten a 3 if they gave me a juice box.

Dick: I have been kidnapped around 8 or 9 times a year since I was taken in by Bruce. These guys were amateurs! Didn't even tie my hands, just kept a gun on me, didn't take my phone from me, and barely moved me from where they picked me up! They get a 2/5 simply because they gave me Bat burger when I said I was hungry.

Jason: I don't get kidnapped as much as Dick, I get the mean ones, fuckers snapped my God damn fingers and then locked me in a cell, then only gave me bread and water for two days straight....4/5.

Damain: I am disappointed in these criminals. They managed to get the drop on me and went further to squander that achievement, I was not tortured nor was I starved, nor was I hand cuffed to a radiator and left to spoil, no I was taken to a well-furnished warehouse that held a living space that was both comfortable and warm, I was given vegan and organic foods...1/5 for the soul reason of them obeying me dietary habits, if not for that it would 0/5.

Duke: Okay, so like, long time kidnapping watcher first time kidnapee, um was decent, I think? Kinda just got a brick to the back of the head and woke up in some guy's house? His kid was chill, hope she gets a good place to stay (stares into camera as if it was Bruce) anyway, his wife was not happy about this, but I got killer Mac and cheese, I would say better than Alfred's because she used hot sauce as a base, outta all of this, 3/5 I still have a concussion.

Cass: I have never been kidnapped.

Steph: lol I kidnapped Tim