August 24, 2014
Not Quite Daily Drabble: Among the Green Sequel Start

Previously On:

So this is where they were hiding all these years,” a man says, sounding irritated. “Wouldn’t have taken them for fans of rural life.”

I don’t really care what they were fans of, demon,” another says, voice tired and angry.

No one asked you, Todd.”

Tim coughs pointedly, leaning on the balustrade overlooking the entrance hall. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?”

They look up at him, and blanch. The taller man, with a shock of white hair in his bangs, recovers first.



“Points for basic face recognition,” Tim says, channeling his mother’s withering sarcasm. “That doesn’t answer my question. This is private property, and you’re trespassing.”

“Tim, what the hell?” the taller man demanded, and Tim knows it’s a bad idea to say this, but when someone hands him a perfect line like that -

“Most of the workings that’ve been done here in the green involve the fae folk, not daemonic forces.” Tim raises his eyebrow. “Now, for the last time: Why are you in my family’s home?”

A spark of red flicks through the edges of his vision -

the taller man’s face turns to dismay -

- his silver knife flashes in the morning air as Tim whirls -

- and the dhampire manages to avoid losing any fingers by a few precious inches.

But his palm has been flayed open. Tim smiles a coyote grin, and lunges. The little dhampire is stronger, faster, and has better reaction time than Tim. (And how does he know that?) But physics are unforgiving, and he has no leverage when Tim slams a knee into the small of his back.

“That,” Tim says, panting, “was incredibly rude.” He yanks at the arm he has twisted up behind the dhampire’s back, fumbling a little as he presses the silver blade to the other’s neck. “Do you have no manners?”

It’s the imp of the perverse that makes him say it. These familiar strangers stir strange echoes, shadows of emotions that linger in the corners of his awareness. Fondness and amused irritation, along with something he can only identify as a peculiar sort of exhaustion, that urges him to bow his head and go along with their desires.

Tim hates it. He does not know them, and he will not be compelled. Not by any binding or shadow.

(“You are Timothy, and you are your own person,” Mother told him once, hooking her fingers under his chin and looking him in the eye. “Not anyone’s servant, or familiar, or thrall.”)

He turns his head to glare at the taller man. “Take your little monster and leave. You aren’t welcome here, inside these walls.”

July 24, 2014
Not quite daily drabble: cats

The first one is Timothy, fittingly enough. A tiny, fist-sized ball of indignant, rangy black cat, winding his way into Ra’s’ life two years after the crisis that wiped Gotham - and most of her protectors - off the map.

Timothy decided Ra’s was his human in Egypt, and like his namesake, managed to stalk Ra’s. Through Egypt, to Saudi Arabia, then Iraq, and all the way back to his base in Iran. Ra’s gave in, ordered a cook to bring some raw chicken, and resigned himself to black fur all over his pillows.

Ten years after Timothy’s arrival came Thea, with kitten-blue eyes and enough thick black fur to look double her actual size. Timothy looked very smug when he deposited the tiny furball in Ra’s’ lap.

A year after Timothy’s death came Timoteo, the latest of Thea’s kittens. He got into everything, including the Lazarus pit. Ra’s hadn’t been aware, prior to that, that pit-madness could affect animals. He was aware he shouldn’t find the oversized monster’s antics quite as amusing as he did, but. Watching the Ubu scramble in fear before a seventeen pound animal was a highlight of many hard days.

After that, he loses track of the exact order. There is Tim, and Timothea, and Timmas, and Tima and Timmeo, and many others.

And then one day there is Jane, the latest of Ra’s ill-considered pets held in her arms, staring at Ra’s in bemused horror.

"You cannot," she says, in a voice far too familiar, "have missed me this much. I refuse."

Ra’s sighs, and resigns himself to a human lifetime of mockery. “And hello to you too, detective.”

June 11, 2014


Imagine your OTP in a universe where everything is the same, except for one thing: their personalities are switched.

Ra’s and Tim. RA’S AND TIM.

Geeky, sarcastic, paranoid Ra’s with his army of minions, who complains he’s riding herd on a bunch of toddlers but indulges them all the same. Who talks to cats, dogs, passing birds; stays up late in the night and occasionally loses all sense of personal boundaries as he rambles on about his newest obsession.

Tim forever with a contingency plan and an elegant response till you push him to far and his temper explodes. Tim who uses and discards people, and sees his partnership with Bruce in cold terms of cost-benefit analysis, and can’t admit he cares. Always riding the edge of acceptable behavior, forever skirting the line of being evil.

Jesus fuck I love this idea.

(via heartslogos)

April 27, 2014
Short Batfic: Perfect World

something from my drafts folder, cleaned up and edited to reassure people I’m not leaving the batfandom just because Naruto and original fiction are taking up my time right now. Preboot-reboot fusion, mildly serious ridiculousness, where Talia and Damian are alive, Tim is overworking himself out of misguided desire to give Bruce some time with his son, and Red Robin #1-13ish are canon, and Ra’s continues to be both creepy, ignorant of the idea of ‘personal space’ and overly interested in Tim’s life. (Also, I’m 80% sure Ra’s and Bruce are engaged in some sort of brain breaking flirtation off screen.)


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April 2, 2014
More Drakestroke musing: Drakes and Al Ghuls



I can see it now… The first time Tim slips and mentions Ra’s around his mother, or his mother finds out that the League is after Tim…

Janet asks him about Ra’s and/our the League in such a calm tone, but every sixth survival sense in Tim it waving red flags and signaling “ABORT! ABORT!”

He knows his mother is furious.

He suddenly wants the ground to swallow him up.

And he definitely does not wasn’t to be in Ra’s al Ghul’s shoes when his mother finds him.

He might even be pushed to call Slade Wilson himself to head off Janet at the pass.

"Deathstroke." Red Robin - a.k.a. Janie’s brat - does his best to sound like nothing at all, but Slade’s enhanced ears can hear how fast is heart is racing. "Is there any particular reason my mother would want to, ah, ‘choke Ra’s with his own withered dick’?"

A moment of silence as Slade’s brain pulled up memories of Janie’s short-lived romance with Talia al Ghul. “Fuck.”

Red Robin sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

March 31, 2014
Time-Travel is not for Amateurs - Chapter 3 - LectorEl - Batman (Comics) [Archive of Our Own]

So, after much delay, I’ve finished the Time-travel fic. (I’m not sure this is a good thing, but…)

Epilogue possibly to follow, but no promises.

March 27, 2014
Shameless Hound Verse Porn: Sex Pollen Edition

A.k.a. fuck this thing, it’s never going to be finished at this rate, I’m publishing it and calling it done.

Warnings for sex, Ra’s’ really fucked up ideas about consent, and Hound being himself. Also unusual use of sex pollen tropes, but that’s not as bad.


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March 25, 2014
A partial list of Timothy Jackson Drake’s pet peeves:

  1. people ragging on him for his taste in music
  2. the feeling from being up for 36 straight hours without eating
  3. sex pollen. enough said
  4. Kon, some of the time
  5. Jason, most of the time
  6. Things not being on the internet
  7. dealing with the press, especially Vicki Vale
  8. ninjas
  9. fucking ninjas
  10. for fuck’s sake Ra’s
  11. you’re not even being subtle anymore
  12. call them off
  13. now
  14. or I’m blowing up another one of your bases

March 22, 2014
I’m an Evil Bitch

After the mind-fuck of Tim’s sixteenth birthday, Bruce criticized Tim for believing in time travel. Fucking time travel, when one of his best friends is Bart. Who is from the 31st century.

Or - is he? Does Bruce know something he doesn’t? Is Bart lying to him? Is he hallucinating? Falling for some supervillains trick? If any of the Bats could turn, so could anyone else he knows. Maybe they already have. Maybe they were never on their side in the first place. How can Tim possibly know?

(Congratulations, Bruce. You just managed to break your sidekick. Good job, we’re all impressed.)

March 20, 2014

Anonymous said: Tim sneaking out of the house as a child under Jack's nose is 100% fanon. This never happened in the comics, it's something fanfic writers invented.




shows what you know when there are a lot of older dc comics that are super hard to track down. my bad, in that case. 

but to be honest, i think my point still stands — he was still, what, 13 when he started being robin? that’s super young to be on your own as much as he was. think about that robin mini before his ongoing where he was traveling all over the world, think of that time when he must have been 14 and he had a crisis about whether or not he should be robin or not so he took off and wound up in paris — how long did it take jack to notice tim wasn’t around?.

That does make sense because I found myself asking where the hell Tim’s photography obsession was during Robin

Still, Tim was twelve to thirteen when he was pulling the crap he did in Death in the Family? Isn’t that tad bit suspect there?

Also when he went to Paris the first time, I believe Jack was comatose.

I’m pretty sure it’s not fanon, actually. In Batman #440, Tim is introduced taking pictures of batman, without Bruce noticing. And then there’s this panel:

That’s Tim’s collection of photos and headlines up there. Note the photo album - that’s a pretty big sign, if nothing else, he hasn’t starting taking those photos a few days ago. In another panel he has framed photos of Batman with Dick-Robin and Batman with Jason-Robin. So he’s taking those photos somehow, and that has to involve him leaving the house at night. Either he’s was sneaking out, or his parents/caretaker were letting him go out that late. If the former’s the case, that’s even worse parenting than missing him sneaking out.

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