*Dick crashes out while on patrol and beats someone within an inch of their life*

Bruce: Dick might be a little bit fragile after last night, so let’s try to be sensitive.

Jason: Oh, believe me- I am going to be nothing but nice to Dick from now on. If he snaps and goes on a rampage, who do you think he’s coming for first?

Bruce: He’s not going on a rampage.

Tim: I bet he’d let me live. He likes me.

Damian: I’m just gonna say it. I never trusted him.

Dick Grayson is a minor inconvenience and a mild gust of wind away from crashing the fuck out, and that’s the biggest and truest reason he gives Eldest Daughter Syndrome. Seems put-together, seems like he’s got it right, holds the family together as best he can—but his relationships are suffering under the weight of responsibility he’s taken on and had put on him. His personal life is a dumpster fire. He needs a good cry to let out the frustration, but instead he puts on a smile and keeps going. He has his outlets, but they’re just ways to let off enough pressure that he doesn’t explode or go nuclear and by God, let there be a day you say the wrong thing. Let there be a moment for consequences to be off the table. His self-control is on a level Bruce can’t even understand because girl (gender neutral). The amount of discipline it takes for Dick to keep smiling and pun-ing instead of breaking his fists on people’s faces is superhuman.

And the worst part? Jason’s the only sibling who really knows what’s simmering just beneath surface. And nobody else believes him when he says that the real Dick Grayson, under the acrobatics and gaudy fashion sense, is a D1, professional, Avengers Level Threat crash-out. Don’t call Batman when shit gets heavy—no, Superman can’t help us either. Call God and tell him you’re on your way because his strongest soldier just broke and now we’re all gonna die. This whole living thing was chill and all, but Dick done lost it and I guess we’re all going home to glory 🤷🏾‍♀️

An Incomplete List of Nicknames For One Timothy Drake-Wayne

Feel free to add on to this

Coffee Freak (Jason and Steph)

Timbernathy (Jason and Steph)

Moth (as in tiMOTHy) (J+S)

Timu (like Temu) (J+S)

Timblr (J+S)

Dick Grayson, as nightwing, staring down at a smaller, younger version of himself who can't stop crying.

-

Dreams were strange, fickle things. Sometimes they were the most wonderful moments of your life played back to you, the feeling of your mothers arms wrapped around you, the smell of home cooked food you could never really replicate in the kitchen anymore, the cheers of crowds who adored you and your family. Other times, they were a taste of hell, the feeling of blood you can't quite wash off, the stench of rot making your head spin, the broken and damned confronting you face to face in your sleep.

Tonight was neither of those. Tonight was...quiet. Still like an undisturbed lake, waiting with bated breath for something to cause a ripple, a wave.

Darkness enveloped Dick like a hug, cool silence washing over him as his dream let him wander the void. Each step was soundless, and the darkness was getting heavier and heavier until... a child. A crying boy, tears casting a ripple every time they slipped down his cheeks. The colors of his acrobat costume were dulled by the void, vibrant red, green, and yellow now scarlet, emerald, and gold.

Each little hiccup and sob stung. This boy, this version of Dick from so long ago, his pain was so palpable. Each strained breath made it obvious how much pain he was in, and yet Dick, adult Dick, Dick who knew how to cope and calm himself down, could do nothing to stop. He was forced to watch the boy wail for parents who were long gone. Kneeling, Dick slowly wrapped his arms around the boy, desperately trying to muffle the sobs and end the pain. Why hadn't anyone done this back then? Why did he have to confront his own childhood now?

Dreams were strange fickle things. Today, Dick dreamt of a hug. A hug he sorely needed back then, but could only give now.

. . . Funny idea my brother and I had one day: What if the batkids continuously adopted one another?

—

Jaybin: Yeah, B is in the middle of the adoption process, so...

Dick: Hey. You know what'd be hilarious?

Jason: Huh?

Dick: If I adopted you. That way, you'd be Batman's grandson. Make him feel old.

Jason: . . . 'Aight bet.

Jason lived with Bruce, he was Bruce's son, but much to Bruce's annoyance and irritation Dick managed to snag the legal rights over Jason, making him Dick's "adoptive son." But, it wasn't that big a deal, Bruce guesses. Anyways, that's how Jason became Jason Todd-Grayson-Wayne.

—

Now, Jason did not like Tim when he came back from the dead, definitely not fond of the little f*cker. However, he became somewhat okay-ish with his existence after Bruce's "death" and, also, thought it'd be funny.

Jason: Hey, pretender.

Tim: What?

Jason: So, you have no legal guardian since Bruce died.

Tim: He is not dead.

Jason: Sure, sure, sure, anyways, you need a legal guardian and I don't give a f#&$ what you do.

Tim: . . . Elaborate?

Jason: I have the papers printed out already.

And, thus, Timothy Jackson Drake-Todd-Grayson-Wayne is born and also Bruce's expression is hilarious when he finds out. Dick celebrates having a grandson and Jason realizes quickly how he's f*cked up whenever he receives calls from Tim's school that he dropped out of or has to get a call from the hospital when Tim has his weekly near death experience...

—

Damian was much easier.

Damian: Timothy, I have heard the most ridiculous rumor that you are Grayson's grandson and adopted by Todd!?

Tim: Oh, yeah, it's funny.

Damian: . . . I want in.

Tim:

Damian:

Tim: Bernard, you want in on this?

Bernard: Hell yeah!

Damian is a bit to proud when he holds up his new birth certificate, stating "Damian Thomas Al Ghul-Drake-Todd-Grayson-Wayne-Dowd." Bruce is really, really not impressed and Cass is so glad she's manages to avoid this odd family tradition...

So, by law, Damian is both Bruce's son and great great grandson, Dick's great grandson, Jason's grandson, and Tim and Bernard's son. Bruce eventually forces them all to a courthouse to get paperwork done so he can make them all regular siblings and all his children, but they all complain the entire time and Tim accuses Bruce of taking him from his Father, Jason throws in some fake tears, Dick makes himself dramatically pass out... The press eat it up.

—

Keep Dick away from the female population actually

Not me reposting this because the pictures won’t load

Can’t risk it

The duck of creativity. I waited so long for it.

oops

im not risking it

Beware of the great duckie 🤐

I’m already having writer’s block, maybe this’ll help me out lol

I HAVE SO MUCH TO FINISH

Definitely not risking it 😱

ALL HAIL THE DUCK OF CREATIVITY!!!

XD

I need the motivation

I’m in desperate need.

Love me a good ol duck

i have art block p l e a s e

please my writers block is making me suffer

:C

I really need the motivation ;<;

Oh look, it did work

Yes it did

O Duck of Creativity, deliver unto me ideas for my unfinished writing projects

Knowing my luck I’m just canceling out another curse with this 😭😭😭

It's literally impossible to read bat fanfiction because it's all based off those ridiculous fanon tropes that spread like crazy and people take as fucking biblical!!!!! Dick was never a jerk to Jason when he was Robin- they got along because Dick is mature as hell and in one retelling- Jason was a jerk to him!! And when he came back as Red Hood he had literally not a single damn reason to treat Dick like shit! Not a damn one! But he did, didn't he? Cause he's the fucking asshole! How dare you make Dick grovel towards that bastard! Dick has only ever tried to help him! Reached out during his Batman run, over and over! Also- Dick never put Jason in Arkham with Joker just a few cells down???? What the fuck! The Joker and all those other fuckers had been broken out of Arkham by Black Mask already for like the whole run??? Jason went to Arkham after losing to Dick, and Gordon put him in there because One he fucking deserved it, Two the literal circumstances?? And at that point!! Arkham was fucking rehabilitated itself!! By Dick!!! Because Bruce had him go undercover there for real, and Dick was actually tortured there before he got out!! So Dick put in the work to get that shit in order to actually help people!!

Dick never chose Damian over Tim- Tim refused to engage with him over his grief, shut him out, and left of his own devices! He never told Dick his suspicions on why Bruce was alive, never! And Tim is not the one to bring Bruce back either, there's a whole team at that point! Dick learns Bruce is alive through tossing his 'dead' body into a pit and the body comes to life as a zombie. Tim didn't tell him shit! Tim is also not a little crybaby- Damian cutting his line was a fucking blip on the page, he was momentarily shocked, that was it! He put Damian on his Hit List, which is why Damian cut his line. And his first attempt at "murder" is just pushing Tim off the dinosaur statue in the cave, he didn't go all assassin on him! Also Dick wasn't even there the first incident and wasn't told about the second incident. Alfred is the one who gave Damian Robin and Dick accepted him because he saw that Damian needed help! He needed guidance! He didn't fucking fire Tim the way Bruce fired him, and fuck all of you for thinking that Tim or Jason or fucking anyone has more right over Robin than Dick Fucking Grayson! He tried to promote Tim and Tim walked off. How dare yall make Dick fucking grovel towards that bastard!!!

Jason did try to kill all three of them!! Why does everyone just gloss over that like what the fuck??? Why does he get a pass for every shitty thing he's done??? "Bad writing" stfu this is the same dude that without hesitation kills random criminals, people who deal drugs, do you know how many random ass people deal drugs??? Jason doesn't give a single shit about being his own type of hero or saving Gotham his own way, nor do the people think of him as their savior!! Are you people fucking delusional?? I saw a post that said citizens would trust Jason over CASS and I cannot Believe the hallucinations yall are seeing???

It is literally downright impossible to find fics about Dick or Damian or Cass or fucking any of them that doesn't include these literal bullshit fanon takes!!! It's impossible!!! This fandom sucks!!!! You don't even need to go buy the comics, all these popular takes have been debunked right here on tumblr!!!! Also Dick can do literally everything!! He's hypercompetent as hell, die mad about it!! Jason doesn't like Wonder Woman???? Where the fuck did that come from??? Wayne Family Adventures is not real!!! Those people could not BE more out of character!!! Look at Bruce for crying out loud!!! Yall know that man ain't act like that!

Edit: leaving this here in case anyone wonders what my hot take is towards this question I was asked: "have you considered tho, that fanon is more fun..."

Well of course fanon is more fun if you're a fan of Jason or Tim. Fanon actively caters towards those two pasty white boys. Fanon actively shits on Dick and Damian though. And for Dick? He literally never did that shit! It is all made up! It's literal character assassination?? But by the fans?? And for Damian? He was 10!!! He grew up as an assassin! He was actively trying to grow with Dick's help! How can yall see him as the bad guy?? And not the literal bad guy, (Jason), and the 17 teen year old who literally fought him back btw, (Tim), like old boy did not act victimized the way you people portray. And Jesus for Cass? Cass is just a prop in fanon. So what exactly about this should be fun to me? Like seriously.

#look comics are massive and canon is a mess and everyone is entitled to enjoy with what they enjoy#buuuuuuuuuuuut…#like if you prefer fanon then by all means you do you#but so much of it is taken as gospel like it’s canon which it just simply is not#I think the real takeaway from this is the whole ‘fanon is great if you’re a fan of Jason or Tim’ — mostly Jason let’s be real#but what gets me is how those people who love fanon Jason are basically just turning him into Dick#the mature sensible capable older brother who is everyone’s favourite and will always help out#but because he’s still Jason will be a bit abrasive about it#and has a tragic backstory so he’s extra woobie#as if the entire batfam isn’t defined by their individual tragic backstories!#but it’s just really annoying how often people take the bad boy characters who have done legitimately horrific things#and pretend like that never happened and it’s actually everyone else’s fault#so that they can headcanon that person to be basically identical to the good guy they hate or begrudge for being perfect and boring#but the bad boy isn’t boring cos he’s a ✨bad boy✨ still so he’s ✨sexy✨#I have nothing against liking fanon over canon — I just know then not to engage with that person/fic/content#but it’s how pervasive fanon has become to point where it’s now genuinely believed to be canon and people get pissy when told that’s wrong#‘Oooh Wayne Family Adventures is fluffy fun what does it matter??’#it matters because it’s creating a fandom that’s increasingly hostile towards certain characters for all the wrong reasons#because it insists on perpetuating a shitty fanon version of those characters cos it gets lapped up by people not fans of those characters#and now it’s invading ACTUAL comics because dick being a shitty brother and a himbo airhead who only cares about his appearance#is enjoyable to people who are used to that fanon version no matter how wrong it is#for a character that has a massive rich complex pretty-consistent 60+ year history of characterisation!!!#I don’t necessarily agree with how hard this goes on Jason but none of it is incorrect and I get where the resentment comes from (tags via the @theflatman)

No because all these points are so true and as a Dick Grayson fan I can say the way he gets thrown around like he's always the problem sucks.

I once read a fic about the whole aftermath of the battle for the cowl and stuff, and it wasn't just the usual its Dick's fault and he's the reason everthing went wrong sort of thing. No instead it's Tim apologizing to Dick for everything he did and when Dick is confused at why he was apologizing Tim had the realization that no one else would apologize because why would they are all always right and it's everyone elses fault but thiers.

more of the ditf au from this post

this is the better art i had and i was waiting to post it

Dick, at a family dinner: -and THEN the cheese in the fondue started spinning like crazy because he used the wrong kind of cheese, HAHAHAHAHA! I mean, it was basically string cheese. And the fondue spinner was going so fast it started levitating off the table!! So now this giant cheese tentacle is just whipping around, slapping people in the face, knocking over wine glasses, and the guy just SCREAMS and dives under the table like-

Batfam: *between laughing and annoyed*

Jason: I refuse to believe this happened. This isn’t fair, how could this happen without me there?!

Tim: PLEASE tell me this happened at a high-profile gala. Please, please, please.

Damian: *arms crossed, looking disgusted* Only you could witness a culinary disaster and recount it like a battle strategy.

Dick, sticking his tongue out at him: You’re just jealous you weren’t there to see it in person, little D.

-

Dick, in his head: The Marcalone family made a deal with the Sarvanos so they’re both going to be at the harbor on the 14th at 1AM. Julian Viscan knows about this deal because his thugs caught wind of it but he decided to stay out because he’s dealing with Bella Cane after she started a riot on his territory so she can get her hands on the shipment. But I can take out both the Marcalones, Saravnos, Viscan AND Eli Smith, the gun dealer, if I move Viscan to interfere with the shipment on the 14th. Cane's also making moves on Smirth's supply chain while troubling Viscan, which means if I pull Viscan into the fray, I can collapse all four of them in one night. But I need to make sure Vsican thinks Smith's going to betray him to do this.

Dick, to the batfam: *gesturing wildly, eyes laughing* So then, the cheese tentacle just SLAPS this guy's glasses right off his face and he screams and then he starts screaming even louder that he's going to start suing EvErYtHiNg-

Dick: If I remember, Viscan's sister works at Smith&Hopkins Inc so if I mess around with the BPD and get them involved with the company, I can control all 4 of them while causing trouble for-

You didn't mark free space

I want a buddy cop style comic, but it is just Dick and Donna trying to keep their younger siblings and teammates out of trouble while trying to figure out which Wonder Twin Roy, Wally, Kori and Garth is in love with.

Every couple of issues are focused on a different group of siblings, teammates and potential core titans love interest, but every time you think one of the wonder twins are about to get the girl/guy they get blue balled by having to go save someone else. The other twin is laughing at them from the other side of the room while starting up the Zeta-beam.

They save the world like 5 different times and save thousands of lives but their banter the entire time is just them making fun of each other and their crushes.

I have a head cannon that Dick isn’t as phased by things in Gotham as the rest of the batfam. Per my post about Dick getting to do whatever he wanted as Robin, I feel like Bruce learned what he should censor for the other Robins but he only learned that by having Dick experience it first. So now Dick will just walk into the most cult like violent scenes and he’ll just be walking around like he’s in a Home Depot. Like one of my favorite panels of Dick is when he is with the titans and he tastes the “blood” on the floor to see if it’s blood or not. I just feel like he does stuff like this all the time and Jason and Tim stare at him like he’s insane.

Tim stared at him. For a full, measured beat, he just looked because of course Bruce wasn’t worried about the memory loss. He was chalking it up to a headache. As if his brain had just decided to stop recording events for a while and that was a totally normal thing to happen.

Tim dragged a hand down his face. Okay. Fine. He could work with this. "Right. So just to recap.." He folded his arms. "You picked up a weird rock a week ago, you’ve had brain fog and a constant headache ever since, you don’t remember what you did with it, and none of that set off any alarms for you?"

He tilted his head slightly, waiting, though he already knew the answer. He wasn’t mad, he was just incredibly concerned for him.

"No? I don't know why I should be concerned considering it's not the first time I've had something similar to this. I've also been just really tired lately and just assumed I caught something so I've been resting and hoping I get better." Bruce sounded a little confused when he was questioned.

"I remember where I put the rock it's down in a case in the cave. At least I was smart enough to put it there."

"You’re really trying to brush this off, aren’t you?" Tim shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You’re talking about memory loss, Bruce. It’s not normal, not even for you, and especially not if you’ve been dealing with this for a week." Tim’s gaze softened as he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

"I get that you’re trying to downplay it, but you don’t get a free pass just because you’ve had weird stuff happen before. This is different. You don’t just forget things, you know? And you don’t just accept that your mind’s foggy without even considering there might be something more to it. This is serious." Tim needed to be certain. He could see Bruce wasn’t even fully grasping the danger yet. "Okay, the rock’s in the cave… maybe I can take it and place it someplace safe. Somewhere far from here and you."

Bruce gives Tim a confused look. "I do genuinely feel fine other than the headache Tim. I don't really understand why that's so concerning. I mean this is the best I've felt in years and that says something." He seemed genuine with how he spoke, as if he didn't really grasp just how bad the brain fog truly was in that situation. However him giving away that he felt better physically, other than the headache and fog, was a little concerning on its own.

"With how bad the pain I was having a week prior I was debating on whether or not to retire the bat, but now it doesn't feel like I need to do that. At least not for a few more years."

Tim blinked. And then he just… stared. "I’m sorry—what?" He sat forward, elbows on his knees, watching Bruce carefully like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. "You’re telling me you’ve had so much pain that you were thinking about retiring, B and now, a week after touching some mystery rock that you don’t even remember putting away, you feel fine? That’s not a good thing. That’s a red flag." Tim’s voice wasn’t accusing, but his tone was edged with genuine concern. And maybe a little disbelief, because of course Bruce hadn’t thought to mention that part earlier.

"You don’t think that’s suspicious? At all?" He stood up again, pacing for a second before turning back to Bruce, his arms crossing tight over his chest. "Listen. I get that you feel fine. I get that it’s easy to just go with that, to believe everything’s okay, but you of all people should know that just because something makes you feel good doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous." Tim exhaled, his voice softening just slightly though his worry behind it never felt.

"Whatever this thing is, it’s messing with your head. You know it is. And I don’t like the idea of it being anywhere near you for a second longer. So, yeah. I’m taking the rock. And I’m running tests. And if it turns out this thing is doing something to you.. rewiring your brain, altering your pain receptors, whatever. I need you to actually listen to me when I tell you we need to do something about it." His lips pressed together briefly before he added, quieter. "Please, Dad. Just—let me figure out what we’re dealing with. Before it gets worse. Because you might feel fine now. But what happens if that changes?"

"I mean if it makes you feel better we can do it. It would be nice to figure out what's going on with me as well." Bruce replied with a soft smile. "I do remember some things just not alot of what happened right after the rock and how I got home. It is concerning but not in the way I know I should be concerned."

He frowned softly. "I can try to think back on what happened while you run your tests on me and the rock if you'd like, discuss all yhag I remember of the day I found it."

Tim let out a slow breath, some of the tension in his shoulders easing not because he was any less worried, but because at least Bruce wasn’t fighting him on it. That was something.

".. Yeah." Tim nodded, arms still crossed as he studied Bruce carefully. "Yeah, that’d help. Anything you can remember, no matter how small, might give us something to work with." He hesitated for a beat before adding, "And if you start forgetting more, I need you to tell me. No brushing it off, no assuming it’s fine. Just…. tell me, okay?"

He was good at this part- Solving problems, putting the pieces together. But there was a pit in his stomach that he couldn’t shake. Because what if this was worse than either of them realized? What if the rock had already done damage that couldn’t be undone? Tim shook the thought away before it could root itself too deep. He wasn’t losing Bruce to some unknown alien artifact, not when he could do something about it.

Bruce is quiet for a moment trying to get his thoughts together enough so he could tell Tim all of what he could remember. "So I remember getting a notification that there was an unidentified object that had crashed into the forest nearby the manor, being worried that it may have been someone who had some capacity to fly I made my way out there. I remember being so confused seeing the geode there thinking 'Wow that's a really strange rock' and it is. It was strange enough that I wanted to bring it back to test it to make sure there was nothing wrong with it."

He paused for a couple moments, face grimacing a little as the headache got a bit worse for him. "I remember this... Song? Sound? I don't know how to describe it, but it was something I heard that just made it all the more worrisome, that made me feel I had to bring it back here to figure out what the fuck was going on with it. I go to pick up the rock and then I wake up back in the cave. The rock was in a case off in the section I have for testing items but I was... Where was I?.." Bruce frowns softly.

"According to the calender I was 'unconscious' for two days straight. I just never really said anything because I didn't want to worry anyone. But obviously that won't happen."

"You lost two days.." Tim repeated, slower this time, like he was testing the weight of the words himself. His stomach twisted. "B, you don’t just lose two days." There was too much they didn’t know. Too many gaps. Bruce’s memory loss wasn’t just 'a little foggy'. It was big enough to swallow entire days.

Tim looked back at Bruce, before going back to sitting on the bed. "Okay.. first thing’s first- You’re not doing anything until we figure this out. No patrol. No cave work. Nothing. I mean it, B. If this thing is messing with your brain, don’t make it worse by pushing yourself."

There was a pause, a flicker of hesitation. "And I need to run tests on you, too. Not just the rock." Tim’s voice was steady, but there was something softer threaded beneath it. "I know you feel fine but we both know feeling fine doesn’t mean you are fine. We need to check for anything out of place… brain activity, nervous system responses, the whole nine yards. I’m not leaving anything to chance."

Tim’s arms crossed tight over his chest, his gaze holding steady. "If you don’t want to do it for yourself, then do it for me. Because I need to know you’re okay. I need to be sure." And then, because he knew Bruce better than anyone, he added. "Please, Dad."

"Oh you're more than welcome to test me I mean I assume that's what I was going to do when I got back home anyways. You have my permission to check me, figure out what's going on." Bruce replied perfectly okay with him going about testing whatever needed tested.

"I mean I do genuinely feel fine but that's not going to stop me from getting checked out, plus I don't think you would necessarily let me leave without looking anyways would you."

Tim shrugged his shoulders. "No, no. I wouldn’t." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back as he turned the situation over in his head. A foreign object. A geode. Two lost days. A persistent headache. Memory loss. And now Bruce felt better? It was a hell of a pattern, and it wasn’t one Tim liked.

"Alright." He pushed off the edge of the bed. "First, we run every test I can think of brain scans, neurological exams, full blood work. If something’s messing with your nervous system, I want to catch it before it gets worse. And I’m handling the rock. If it did something to you just from you touching it, we’re not taking chances with exposure. That means gloves, isolation procedures, the whole deal. No arguments."

His gaze softened slightly, concern threading through the usual sharp edges of his expression. "And if something changes, if you start forgetting more or the headaches get worse or you suddenly feel like bench-pressing the Batmobile.. you tell me. No playing it off. No waiting until it’s bad enough that even you can’t ignore it."

Tim let out a slow breath, his voice quieter when he added "I don’t want to lose you to some space rock, B. So thank you for letting me do this. Let me help." He’d offer the other his hand to help him off the bed.

Bruce nodded. "Nothing extreme like that has happened I just feel more youthful. You know? Like I have the energy to actually do things again rather than have to limit myself like I had been doing so before. Again I am all for the tests as I want to know what's going on with me as well so I'll sit and let you do whatever you need done to satisfy it."

He smiled softly. "I wore a body cam the night I went and got the rock, so you're more than welcome to look at that if you can find the footage for it."

Tim blinked. Slowly. "You wore a body cam. Okay.. that’s good. We have something we can work with!" He then helped Bruce off his bed and the pair made their way towards the cave. "You keep saying you feel more youthful, like you have energy again…" Tim said, watching Bruce carefully. "That’s not inherently a bad thing, I get it but considering the circumstances, it’s not something we can just take at face value either." His fingers tapped absently against his arm, mind already spinning through possibilities. "Enhanced physical recovery, memory loss, an unidentified extraterrestrial object.. B, you realize how many ways this could go wrong, right?"

Tim sighed, as the two entered the cave. Guiding the older to a stool near the medical area, grabbing a nearby laptop as well as the body-cam that Bruce had worn the night of. "Look, I’m glad you’re letting me run the tests and yeah, I’ll find the footage, go through every frame if I have to but memory loss isn’t normal, Bruce and neither is suddenly feeling like you’ve rolled back the clock twenty years after picking up a space rock."

His voice softened, just slightly. "We’re gonna figure this out. You’re not dealing with it alone.. but if you decide to run off after these tests because you feel 'fine'.. I will personally ask Clark to drag your butt back here and strap you to that chair." There was humour in his tone yet the genuineness was very much there.

"I have no reason to run off Tim." Bruce replied sounding a little confused as to why Tim was pushing so hard for him to go get seen, after all he did agree to going to get checked out already. "Then what are we waiting for? We can go do it now if you'd like, that way you don't have to wait on getting me checked out."

It was odd how calm and willing Bruce was being when it came to getting checked out when usually it took several of them to move him to even get checked to see if he was remotely injured.

Tim studied Bruce, head tilted just slightly, watching the way he held himself as relaxed, open, cooperative. It should’ve been a relief. Should’ve been. But it just made the unease coil tighter in his chest. "You’re making this too easy…" He murmured, half to himself, half to Bruce, before shaking his head and pushing forward. "Not that I’m complaining but you’re aware this is weird for you, right? Not brushing it off with ‘I’m fine, Tim’ and then immediately doing whatever you want anyway?"

Tim moved to set up the scans, adjusting settings with practiced ease, slipping gloves on as he started prepping for the bloodwork. His voice stayed calm if Bruce was going to be steady, then Tim was going to match that steadiness. "I’ll go through the body cam footage while I run the tests see if I can pinpoint the exact moment you blacked out." His fingers tapped against the edge of the table, running calculations in his head. "But if something is affecting your nervous system, I need you to tell me the second anything changes."

"I believe you when you say you feel fine." Tim’s voice was softer now. "But I also believe that things don’t happen to us without a reason. So I’m not taking this at face value. And I’m not letting you deal with it alone." Tim offered the older man a small, lopsided smile, something to cut through the tension.

He smiled softly and pats Tim's head gently. "I do appreciate you doing this ducky, I really do. So I'm going without a fight as to not cause more unneeded stress to you because I care about you. That and I'm a little tired so I just don't want to be here for longer than I have to." Bruce yawned softly. "Better to do it now than later so that way you aren't stressing out over it either anyways."

Tim stared at him for a beat longer than he probably should have, trying his best to ignore the warmth that settled somewhere deep in his chest. Now was not the time to get emotional about Bruce Wayne being a good dad. "Quack. Well… yeah." His voice came out quieter than he intended, but he pushed through. A small smile gracing his face. "Of course I’m doing this, you’d do the same for me."

He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders back. "You just admitted to feeling tired, so that’s going in the report. Just so you know.." His voice was teasing. "Lie down on the bed and close your eyes if you have to. I’m going to start running the tests in a few minutes." Tim kept his hands moving, prepping the necessary equipment as smoothly as possible- flexing his fingers before settling them against the keyboard, pulling up the first round of scans. Letting the machines do their thing.

Bruce lies down and closes his eyes. "I may fall asleep if I stay like this just a heads up. I am just rather comfortable ironically enough." The scans so far don't show anything out of the ordinary. However there was something odd in the scan for Bruce's head. Just a small section was completely dark, yet nothing seemed to notify the machine that there was something off.

Bruce opened his eyes and looked to Tim. "Is everything okay? You look really pale."

Tim didn’t answer right away. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, his breath caught somewhere in his throat as he stared at the scan. "Oh- Uhm… yeah, I’m fine!" He checked the calibration, adjusted the settings- Anything to make sure this wasn’t just a machine error. But no matter how many times he ran it, the result didn’t change. That small, inexplicable dark spot remained.

Tim exhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep his breathing even, his expression neutral. "I don’t know yet.." Tim admitted, voice softer than before. "But there’s something on the scan or I guess- Not on the scan. A section of your brain that’s just… dark. Like there’s nothing there. No activity, no readings."

He hesitated for a second, then turned the screen so Bruce could see for himself. "It’s not flagging as damage, which should be a good thing but it’s also not flagging as anything, which isn’t." Tim pressed his lips together, tapping his fingers against the desk in thought. "You still feel fine, right? No dizziness, no pain?" He glanced at Bruce again, sharp eyes scanning for any micro expressions. Anything that might hint at something being wrong.

"Other than the headache no not at all I feel pretty good. Should I be worried?" Bruce asked a frown now resting on his face as he shifts to move to sit back up properly. Upon sitting up properly to try and see what was going on Bruce suddenly stops moving entirely, frozen in place for a moment. A few unnerving minutes of utter stillness passes by before he simply blinks and continues to shift to see what was wrong as if those last few minutes didn't happen at all.

He shifts again before deciding fully to just lie back down and let Tim continue to test on him for whatever it was that he was trying to look for.

Tim’s fingers curled instinctively around the edge of the desk. His breath caught in his throat as he watched Bruce, waiting for some reaction, some sign that he was aware of what had just happened.

Nothing.

Bruce just… blinked, like those last few minutes hadn’t happened at all.

Tim’s stomach twisted, his mind was already spinning through possibilities. Slowly and carefully.. Tim exhaled, forcing his voice to stay steady. "B, you just froze for like, three minutes straight. Completely still. No blinking, no reaction, nothing." His hands flexed against the table, tension threading through his limbs. "Do you remember that? At all?"

His gaze flickered over Bruce, scanning for any changes- Any tightness around his eyes, any flicker of confusion. "Because if you don’t, that’s another thing we need to add to the list." Tim’s fingers moved automatically, adjusting the equipment, running another scan. He needed data. Needed something tangible to hold onto, because right now, this was starting to look less like a normal medical issue and more like something else. Something bigger.

"I am aware I do have moments where I just 'blank' as I've started to call them. I do remember what happens during them but it's like seeing things through a rather foggy day unable to look away from something horrific that had just happened. Like a car accident or something. It just happens, though I have noticed that it doesn't happen when I'm participating in something that could harm me." Bruce replied shifting a bit.

"Not sure why or if it will change to where it will start happening during more dangerous things but... I'm not worried?" That came out more of a question than it meant to.

Tim listened carefully, just taking in every word. When Bruce was done, he let the silence stretch for a moment, turning over the new information in his mind. His hands had gone still over the keyboard, but his mind hadn’t. "You’re not worried.." Tim repeated, but there was no judgment in his tone. Just quiet, careful thought. "B, I know you don’t scare easy. I know this isn’t like you suddenly losing control in a fight or blacking out mid-sentence and I know you’re telling me this because you trust me." He’d sigh. "So I’m trusting you too but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried. It means that we need to understand this."

He turned back to the screen, re-running the scans again just in case something new showed up before grabbing the essentials to do a blood test. "These 'blanks'.. do you feel them coming on? Is there any kind of pattern? And if you remember them, what exactly do you see? Is it like watching yourself in third-person? Or is it more like you’re locked in, like a passenger in your own head?"

Tim’s gaze flicked back to Bruce. "And yeah, maybe it hasn’t happened in dangerous situations yet but we both know how unpredictable things can get. So if there’s even a chance this could escalate, I- We need to get ahead of it." Tim swallowed as he started to wipe an area on Bruce’s arm that had prominent veins. Drawing blood. His voice softened at the edges, but his resolve didn’t waver. "You’re not dealing with it alone."

"Maybe... Maybe it would be worth it to watch that body cam footage I recorded of the night I found the rock. I don't know why I havent watched the recording myself as I know it would tell me why I've been so different but I just... Can't bring myself to watch it. However you're not me, you can watch it without being pulled away to do other things at the moment." Bruce suggested with a smile letting his blood be taken from him to get tested.

He encouraged Tim to look at the video footage of that night, usually he wouldn't be as encouraging as he preferred to so himself but that's another matter to question him on later.

Tim kept his hands steady, finishing the blood draw with practised ease- Capping the vial before placing it into the machine that would test it. His mind racing before he took a couple of breaths to ground himself. ".. Okay, I’ll watch it now." He didn’t question why Bruce wasn’t able to watch it himself but he figured he’d get the reason soon.

He grabbed the body cam, inserting it into his laptop. Accessing it immediately and turning the screen so Bruce was able to watch it as well, fingers flexing before he’d press on the play button. But even as the footage began, a tight coil of unease settled low in his stomach. Because if Bruce was avoiding this? Then Tim wasn’t sure he actually wanted to see what happened that night.

The video starts off normally enough, Batman moving about the city as he usually would taking out criminals as he moved about. About an hour into the footage a beeping sound could be heard from the suit to which Bruce pulls up a screen to figure out what's going on, said screen was far too blurry to really read what was being put out but there was a location and it was out in the abandoned section of the Gotham harbor.

Once Bruce had arrived to the warehouse he pauses for a moment almost as if he was taken off guard by something he heard, it too faint for it to get caught on the body cam footage at the moment. Upon moving further into the building the sound could actually be picked up, it being that of a woman singing.

Her voice was so calming and soothing yet made it very difficult to simply just turn and walk away, it growing louder and louder the closer Bruce was forced to get.

There before Bruce rested the very same rock, yet the only difference was the rock was pulsating with something. Moving like it was a living being. The sound had stopped the moment Bruce got close enough to touch the rock.

Even though he knows better than to bend down to pick it up, something urged him to bend down to pick it up. The moment, the millisecond his gloved hand touches the pulsating mass of rock something launches off it, whatever it was had moved far too quickly for it to get caught clearly, and the video feed cuts off with Bruce's muffled strangled scream of pure terror.

Tim’s breath caught in his throat. His fingers curled tight around the edge of his laptop, knuckles going white as he stared at the frozen last frame of the footage. Bruce’s strangled scream echoed in his ears, sharp and raw and wrong in a way that sent ice straight through his veins. He exhaled, slow and controlled. His mind was already cataloging the details. The singing, the way the geode had moved, something launching off it. The abrupt cut in the footage. The fact that Bruce hadn’t mentioned any of that.

Tim swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his voice steady when he finally spoke. "Okay…" His fingers hovered over the keyboard, like he was debating whether or not to replay the last few seconds, but he didn’t. He just pressed his lips together, gaze flicking towards Bruce. "B, you screamed. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound like that before.." His jaw tightened for a second before he let out a quivering breath. "You don’t remember any of this, do you?" It wasn’t really a question, he already knew the answer yet he still asked.

His hands moved automatically, transferring the footage to a secure drive so he could analyze it later. "Something came off that rock, Dad. Something fast enough that the camera barely caught it. And then.." He gestured at the screen, at the cut-off footage. "This happened and poof, two days of your memory are just gone." Tim forced himself to sit back, to ease some of the tension coiling in his shoulders.

He ran a hand through his hair. His voice softened as he spoke next. "B, I don’t know what’s happening to you. But whatever it is? You didn’t walk away from that night the same person who went in." His gaze held steady, the concern threaded deep in his expression. "We need to figure out what changed. And we need to do it now." Tim’s head snapped to the machine analysing Bruce’s blood, hoping it’d give them the results soon.

"Its that bad?" Bruce asked with a confused look. "I mean I am willing to sit and let you do whatever it is you need to do to figure out." He shifts a little bit. "It does explain alot though. I do remember hearing my mother when I heard the voice that night. It was... Baffling as I knew she was dead but I just couldn't leave..."

Tim’s breath hitched. He blinked. Bruce had heard his mother’s voice that night. That explained why he hadn’t turned back, why he had walked straight into whatever trap that thing had set. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to process the information methodically, piece by piece.

"That makes sense. If it was using something personal, something you wouldn’t ignore, to pull you in… then it wasn’t just random. It knew exactly how to keep you there." His gaze flicked back to the frozen last frame on the laptop, then to the machine running Bruce’s bloodwork, waiting for it to finish analysing which would only take a couple more minutes. "

Tim studied Bruce carefully. "…What else does it explain?" His tone was gentle, not pushing, but asking. "Since that night, have you felt… different? Beyond the memory loss, beyond feeling more 'youthful'. Anything.. instincts, reactions, thoughts that don’t quite feel like yours?" Because whatever had come off that rock, it had done something to Bruce. Maybe physically, maybe mentally, maybe both. And Tim wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

"I mean a little bit yeah, I haven't really needed to eat and only really felt it when I spoke to you about nearly burning the kitchen down. Though up until that point I haven't really felt the urge to eat like I usually would. I mean even you know I do get migraines if I skip a meal... Or was that Alfred that knew it... That's besides the point." He sighed softly frazzled.

"Other than not feeling hungry I've been hearing my mother's voice alot more, though I have for the most part gotten over the loss of her and my father years ago so I'm not sure what's causing it."

Tim listened, and every word made his stomach sink further. The more Bruce listed his symptoms, the more the pit in his stomach grew. He’d exhale slowly, controlling the racing of his thoughts. "You’re still hearing your mother? Is it just a memory? Or is she like… talking to you? Because if you’re talking to her then we’re not dealing with leftover trauma. We’re dealing with something else entirely."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees, keeping Bruce’s gaze locked with his own. "And the whole not eating thing, that’s not just weird for you… it’s dangerous. You’re not feeling hunger but your body still needs energy." Tim exhaled, his fingers tapping against the laptop in thought before placing it at the table beside the bed. "If whatever this is suppressing your basic needs… then it’s changing more than just your memory."

Tim glanced back at the screen running Bruce’s blood, his breath held tight in his chest as he waited for the results. After a few minutes, the machine was finally done analysing- he then quickly got up to take the results and see what they were dealing with.

"It's me talking to her. I don't know how or why or what is doing it but I do know that I should be unsettled by it, should be worried but I'm not. I don't know why I'm not worried at all." He frowned softly now seeing just how off it is for him at the moment to be feeling the way he is

"That is odd.." Tim murmured, more to himself than anything. His fingers drummed against his keyboard in a rhythmic pattern. His mind spinning through every possible explanation, every worst-case scenario. His eyes scanned over the data, his expression shifting ever so slightly- just a flicker of something unreadable before he schooled his features into neutrality.

Tim glanced back at Bruce, something careful in the way he spoke next. "Your bloodwork came back… different." He tapped at the screen, turning it slightly so Bruce could see. "It’s still you, still human but something’s changed.." He hesitated, trying to find the right words.

".. Off? There are traces of elements in here that shouldn’t be. Compounds I don’t recognize. I may need to run a deeper analysis, cross-reference it with known extraterrestrial substances." Tim exhaled slowly, pressing his lips together. His voice softened, the worry beneath it clear despite his steady tone. "B, whatever touched you that night… it didn’t just leave. It did something to you."

Bruce frowned softly. "Are you absolutely positive that it may still be here, still be with me? I just... I don't know if it is possible for whatever it was that attacked me that night to just stay if that makes sense." But what did he know? For all Bruce knew he could still have whatever got him that night stuck inside of him slowly fucking up whatever it wanted to and he wouldn't be any the wiser.

"I do give you full permission to do whatever it is you need to do to figure out what the hell is going on."

Tim exhaled softly. "I don’t know if it’s still here but I do know that it left a mark." Tim admitted. "Your bloodwork isn’t normal, your scans aren’t normal, you’re feeling and acting.. different. It could be a chemical alteration, something microscopic rewriting things at a cellular level or it could be.. something else…"

He rolled his shoulders back. "We start with a more in-depth neural scan then I’m running a secondary analysis on your blood, checking for any residual foreign cells or energy signatures." He flexed his fingers again, reaching for the necessary equipment. "And if that doesn’t give us answers, I’m calling in someone who can check if there’s anything affecting you on a level we can’t see."

His voice softened just slightly as he met Bruce’s gaze. "You’re not alone in this. I’ve got you, okay?" A small, knowing smile graced his face. "Besides, you gave me permission and you know I’m not letting that go to waste." Tim turned back to his workstation, already prepping the next set of tests.

Bruce nodded and smiled softly. "Alright I assume you want to get those done as soon as possible right?" He asked. "If that's the case then I'll sit here for as long as you need me to, I won't deny the fact that I am curious to know what's going on with me as the footage of the night had cut out when I know it shouldn't have."

Tim huffed a quiet, amused laugh. "Yeah, B. I kinda figured you’d want some answers too." He was already setting up the next round of tests, his fingers moving with practiced ease but despite the teasing edge in his voice- his focus was razor-sharp. "Okay, I need you to stay as relaxed as possible for this." He readjusted the sensors, watching the monitors as they started to process new data.

"This time. I’m going to run a deeper neural scan, mapping the activity across your brain while also checking for any… outside interference. Just in case." His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before he sighed. "And once I’m done with this, we’re cross-referencing your bloodwork with extraterrestrial databases." Tim tapped a few more commands in, then leaned back slightly, watching the screens as the scans loaded.

Though once he had received the new set of results, the tension returned to his shoulders. Something had changed. His fingers hovered for a second over the keyboard before he turned the screen toward Bruce. "Uhm.. B? You know the dark area that the previous scan picked up, it moved to a different area in your brain but it can’t seem to locate where it is." Tim tapped a finger against the edge of the screen. "It’s not behaving like a tumor, not like anything I’ve ever seen in a standard medical scan. It’s just… relocating."

He forced himself to take a slow breath, to keep his mind from jumping too many steps ahead. "Which means either the scan was wrong before and it wasn’t… or whatever this is, it’s mobile." Tim’s fingers curled into a loose fist, resting against the keyboard.

"Wait what... What do you mean it moved? If it's a mass then it can't move right?" Now Bruce was starting to truly get worried. Whatever it was clearly wasn't a tumor or anything along those lines. "You're not fucking with me are you Tim? I know the last few days have been stressful but please tell me you're not messing with me on this."

Tim’s expression softened, but the worry didn’t fade from his eyes. "B, I promise you.. I wish I was but I’m not messing with you." His voice was steady, reassuring despite the rising concern. "I double-checked the equipment. Triple-checked the calibration. It’s not an error." He leaned closer to the monitor, jaw tight as he traced the data with his eyes. "Whatever this thing is, it’s real and it’s moving." He let out a slow breath, working through the implications aloud- partly for Bruce, partly to keep himself grounded. "A static mass wouldn’t do this. A tumor, a cyst, even scar tissue.. they don’t move like this but this? It’s relocating between different regions of your brain without triggering damage markers. It’s deliberate. Purposeful."

His fingers tapped against the keyboard, mind racing. "You said you weren’t worried. That doesn’t sound like you. What if…" He hesitated for half a second before continuing. "What if it’s influencing that? What if it’s keeping you from feeling afraid on purpose?" Tim’s hands flexed at his sides as he stood. "I’m not jumping to conclusions yet but if this thing is mobile, if it’s aware? We need to contain it. Now. And if it’s altering your brain chemistry, there’s a chance it could escalate or worse, hide itself completely." He met Bruce’s gaze again, letting the full weight of his concern show.

"How exactly would you suggest containing it Tim? It could potentially kill me if you try to remove it. I don't know if removing it at all would even be possible even if there was a way for us to remove it without potentially killing me. The way you're speaking about it reminds me of a parasite, but way worse." Bruce runs a hand through his hair more concerned than he had been the entire time Tim had been testing him.

Potentially killing himself in the process of removing something harmful from his body was something he, well it really, was not prepared for in the slightest.

"Yeah, B. I know." Tim exhaled, running a hand through his hair as well. "Which is why we’re not jumping straight to ‘cutting it out of your brain’ just yet but if this thing is acting like a parasite? Then we need to treat it like one. Track its movement, analyse its patterns, figure out if it has weaknesses."c

His fingers flew over the keyboard, already running more scans, more tests. He didn’t look away from the screen when he continued, voice quieter but no less firm. "If it’s influencing you, if it’s changing how you feel, then we can’t trust that it’ll just stay passive. Right now, it’s letting you feel calm, but what happens if that changes?"

Tim stopped himself, sucking in a sharp breath. He closed his eyes for half a second before glancing up at Bruce again. "We’re not panicking. Not yet. But I need to know something, B." His voice dropped lower. "Have you heard her voice at all while we’ve been talking?"

Because if Bruce’s mother’s voice wasn’t just a lingering effect but something active, something that could be manipulating him in real time then they were dealing with something far more dangerous than either of them had thought.

He hesitates a little before properly responding. "...Yes I have been hearing her voice. It's difficult to ignore her when she sounds exactly how I remember her when I was a child. Though I don't really register exactly what is being said either so I don't think that's very helpful. I am sure you are right that this isn't our typical parasite either. Did the last place that the thing had blocked out look different on the scan? Did it seem like pieces of my brain were missing from it?" 

"Okay. So you are still hearing her, and it’s constant enough that you’re able to ignore it. That’s not nothing, B." Tim's voice remained soft. "...And you don’t remember what she’s saying? At all?"

He didn’t expect an answer immediately from Bruce, he had already admitted it was difficult to focus on but the fact that it was happening now made Tim’s stomach twist. He ran a hand through his hair again before flicking his eyes back to the scan, narrowing in on the last location the dark spot had settled.

"It’s… not missing, exactly.." Tim admitted, voice tight with thought. "It’s more like..." He exhaled sharply, turning the screen slightly toward Bruce, pointing at the most recent scan. "See this? Your brain activity is normal here, here, and here." His fingers tapped against the highlighted sections of the image. "But where this thing is? It’s like the data’s just not there. Not damaged, not dead, just… gone. Like something’s overriding the readings entirely."

Tim glanced back at Bruce, searching his expression. "And if it’s moving, if it’s choosing where to settle, then it’s doing something. We just don’t know what yet." His fingers curled into a loose fist before flexing again, trying to ground himself in the movement.

"That's... Hold on what?" Bruce looks closer at the images completely befuddled by what he was hearing. "So what you're suggesting is that it's alot more intelligent than we think it is right?" He asked as he scanned over the images once more before looking to Tim. "That's... That would mean it's not a parasite so to speak. At least not in the typical sense of the word."

".. Yeah." Tim murmured, his brow furrowed deeply. Processing Bruce’s theory to try and match with his own. "It’s not just feeding off you like a normal parasite would, it’s thinking- Choosing. And if it’s smart enough to move around, smart enough to block out the scans.. then it’s aware of us watching it." His jaw tightened at the implication, his mind already working through the next steps.

He leaned back slightly, but his attention stayed locked on Bruce. "B, if it’s intelligent, then it has a motive. Either it wants something from you or it’s using you for something. And the fact that you’re hearing your mother? That’s not a coincidence, it’s using something personal to anchor itself.. to keep you from fighting it off." His voice softened but the urgency remained.

Tim’s fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up additional protocols and scanning algorithms. "I’m going to try a spectral analysis next see if this thing is emitting any energy signatures we couldn’t pick up in a standard scan and if that doesn’t work… do you have any suggestions or tests you think I should do on you?"

"No you're doing everything I would have done in this situation. If the scan doesn't help then we may have to get Clark or the green lanterns involved which I don't want to do if I can avoid it. The less people who know about this fucking shit the better in my opinion." Bruce replied with a frustrated huff. "It does piss me off that I have no idea what it is, let alone have no recollection of what happened the night I got attacked other than the cam footage."

Tim didn’t look away from the screen, his fingers tapping out a steady rhythm against the keyboard as he processed Bruce’s words. "Yeah, I figured you’d say that." His voice was even, but there was something taut beneath it like a wire stretched too thin.

"The problem is, B? This thing already knows how to stay hidden. It blocked out part of your scans, moved through your brain like it’s got a game plan, and it’s smart enough to use your mother’s voice to keep you from fighting back. So you wanting to keep this quiet?" Tim finally turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. "It’s a great sentiment, really. But if this thing makes you black out in the middle of a fight, or worse.. decides it wants control over you? Then we’re going to wish we’d looped in someone who could vaporise it before it gets worse."

He exhaled sharply. "I get it, dad. I do. But the fact that you’re pissed off about not knowing? The fact that you want answers? That’s good. It means whatever this is, it hasn’t fully gotten to you yet." He pushed back from the desk, rolling his shoulders before flexing his fingers. "So.. let’s beat it to the punch. I’m running the spectral analysis now—if there’s even a trace of foreign energy, we’ll find it. If that doesn’t work? We call Clark and Hal to get their opinion and advice."

As much as Bruce hated it Tim did have a point there, it wouldn't be smart to not say anything especially if he were to do any sort of missions that required him to work with others that wasn't his family. "Alright alright, fine. If this doesn't work we can contact them, just them for the time being as I don't know who else would really be able to provide anything useful."

Tim huffed softly, already fine-tuning the spectral analysis parameters. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" His tone was light, teasing, but the way his fingers moved over the keyboard betrayed how focused he really was. The faintest trace of a smile crossed his lips before fading. "I know you want to keep this quiet. Hell, I want to keep this quiet but if whatever this thing is can override scans, mimic neurological activity, and manipulate your perception? We can't risk it going unchecked." He then got up to attach the essential equipment onto Bruce's head to run the spectral analysis before sitting back down, placing his laptop back on his lap as he ran another brain scan. This time hoping that they'll get a better explanation at what was happening to Bruce. A soft beep cut through the air. The scan was complete. Tim straightened, eyes narrowing as he read the results. His stomach twisted. Because there was a reading. Faint, barely registering like it was hiding. But it was there. Something pulsing on a frequency just outside normal human perception, nestled in the depths of Bruce’s brain. ... Another brain? No, it couldn't be. Tim then glanced up to Bruce, a few minutes as he racked his brain on how to tell his dad. "Um.. B?" He then turned his laptop, again, so that Bruce would be able to see what he was seeing.

Bruce looked to Tim then to the scan then back to Tim. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" He asked a little confused as he looked back to the scan of his brain. Was he a little lost as to what he was supposed to be looking at? Yeah but once it was actually pointed out to him it was hard to notice. "There's... There's another signal there that's not mine isn't there Tim." He asked his voice quiet and a little unsettlingly calm

Tim swallowed hard, his throat dry as he nodded. "Yeah, B. There is." His voice was softer now, but there was no mistaking the weight behind it. "It’s faint, barely there, but it’s real and it’s not coming from you." He drummed his fingers against the side of his laptop, the rhythmic sound grounding him while his mind worked through the implications. "It’s like… a secondary pattern, overlapping your brain waves but not fully synced with them. Which is why the scan was able to pick up just a tad bit for us to notice on the results."

He hesitated, watching Bruce’s expression for any sign of how he was processing the information before continuing. "Whatever this thing is, it’s not just interfering… it’s present. And it’s trying really damn hard to stay hidden."

Tim leaned forward, his voice dropping lower despite the fact that they were alone. "B, if this is some kind of foreign consciousness, if it’s aware, it might be listening to us right now." He let that sit between them for a beat, letting the gravity of it sink in. "So, what’s the call? Do we keep digging, or do we bring Clark and Hal in before this thing decides to show its hand?"

"I'd like to try and dig more information out of it, in the mean time we should contact Hal about the situation since it does fall in his jurisdiction as it's a space fairing creature thing though I am unaware if he will be able to provide much help. If we have to we can let Clark know as well but Hal is definitely first on the list." Bruce responded with a small sigh.

"I genuinely don't like what's going on but there's just... No other choice."

Tim exhaled slowly and deeply, fingers drumming against the laptop as he processed Bruce’s response before placing his laptop to the side. "Alright, I'll let you contact Hal and Clark- I need to head back to Metropolis but I'll still be analysing all the data we got today. See if we missed anything." He then stood up to remove all the equipment attached onto Bruce, before helping him off the bed. "I know you need your privacy when it comes to these two, let me know once they've come to you and have given you their theories and opinions. I'll literally fly here, well Kon will fly me here but you get it." He'd laugh a little, hoping it'd take the edge off Bruce as he walked him back up to his room. Giving him a quick hug. "I'll see you soon Dad, don't worry- We'll figure this out."

[A couple weeks later...] Tim had parked his bike by the entrance, Kon had been busy dealing with his own stuff back in Metropolis so he'd decided to just ride all the way back to the Manor. He then bolted towards the Batcave, not surprised to see Bruce down there already. "So.. what did they tell you?"

Bruce looks up from the case he was working on and smiled softly to Tim. "Not much, mostly to keep an eye on the situation as where it's at currently would be far too dangerous for either of them to remove. Hal was a little perplexed by what I told him though saying he's never really encountered something like that before and would ask one of the elder Green lanterns about it."

He looked back to the case he was working on. "As of now it really hasn't done much besides simply being quiet. It's been very very quiet actually. I haven't heard any audio cues or visual ones either so it's sort of been left on the back burner these last few weeks."

Tim smiles back at Bruce before it turned into a slight frown slightly, arms crossing as he processed the information. "Too dangerous to remove? That’s not exactly reassuring, B." He muttered, stepping closer to Bruce’s workstation. Tim hesitated for a second before reaching out to rest hand on Bruce’s shoulder. His gaze flickered to the screen, then back to Bruce, scanning him for any sign of discomfort or fatigue.

"The fact that it’s quiet now doesn’t mean it’s not a problem. If anything, that makes me more worried." Tim sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before perching himself on the edge of the desk. There was an underlying layer of concern in his voice, the kind he never quite managed to hide when it came to Bruce. He tilted his head, studying Bruce’s face for any sign of strain. "...And you? How are you feeling? Any changes? Even small ones? .. How are you in general?" His voice softened slightly. After a beat, Tim huffed a small, knowing laugh. "I know I’m hovering. I’ll stop—if you give me a solid answer that you’re actually taking care of yourself while we figure this out." He nudged Bruce lightly, the affectionate gesture paired with an expectant look. "And before you tell me you don’t need me worrying, too bad. You don’t get a choice in that, Dad." He'd squeeze his shoulder briefly

"I mean no not really, I haven't really noticed any changes as there hasn't been any to my knowledge. Other than the occasional check in with Hal and Clark now I'm fine." Bruce replied distracted by the rather perplexing case he was trying to solve at the moment.

Tim let out a small sigh, a mix of exasperation and fondness as he watched Bruce focus back on the case. He knew that look, the one where Bruce buried himself in work rather than addressing his own well-being. "Right. You're 'fine.'" Tim echoed, air-quoting with one hand before raking it through his hair. "So you’re telling me that an unidentified, supposedly dangerous thing is just… sitting there quietly, and that doesn’t bother you? At all?" His eyes narrowed slightly, skepticism written all over his face. Now leaning against the desk, after a beat- Tim exhaled, running a hand over his face. "… Alright. If you’re really ‘fine'" and he very much did not believe that, but he’d let Bruce pretend for now "Then at least let me help with this case. Since you’re clearly not going to step away from it." He'd offer to help.

"I mean I won't stop you though it's been a few hours since I've made progress on this case and I don't think I'm getting anywhere anyways, since you are here though it does give me a bit of an excuse to step away for a bit if you want to look at it." Bruce responded as he steps back to stretch a bit not realizing how odd that sounded.

Tim blinked at Bruce, then gave him a slow, knowing smile. "Huh. You stepping away from a case willingly? Either this thing is affecting you more than you’re letting on, or I just witnessed a miracle.." He chuckled softly, shaking his head but the amusement faded quickly. Replaced with quiet understanding. He then plots himself down on the seat, typing away and looking at the things that Bruce had typed down from the hours he was down here- Occasionally giving his Dad a few glances to see if anything would happen.

Bruce let's Tim take over for a bit distracting himself with building something for the time being. Whatever the item itself was was unusual in terms of how it looked as compared to the usual items he built this thing looked alot more high tech which is rather hard to beat especially with how shit some of the tech is currently for humanity.

Tim didn't look up from the screen immediately, but he could feel the shift in the air. His brows knit together, fingers pausing over the keys. He sat up straighter now, swivelling the chair to face Bruce. ".. What are you making?" His tone was light, but his eyes squinted and flicked over the piece of tech with practiced scrutiny. It was different. More advanced than what Bruce usually threw together in moments of frustration. His stomach twisted, not liking the implications of that. He closed the case file on the monitor, for now, and made sure to save it before shutting down the computer. He'd walk closer to the older, Tim's eyes focused on high-tech device that rested on Bruce's hands.

From the looks of the build it seemed to be half finished. "Honestly your guess is a s good as mine. I mean there are times where I feel the need to build so I just started this, whatever this is, to curb it as working on anything else tech wise ends up not working out very well anyways." The tech that Bruce was working on looked to be a cube of sorts, half finished but definitely not something he would actually work on.

"B, you realise this is advanced tech, right? Like, beyond our usual ‘let’s slap some WayneTech together in a sleepless haze’ level of advanced." Tim's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it.. too many alarm bells ringing in his head to ignore. There was a beat of silence. "Does it just… feel like you're being... forced to build it?" He gestures toward the device.

His gaze lifts from the tech to Bruce’s face, sharp and searching. ".. B, what if it’s not quiet because it’s gone? What if it’s quiet because it’s doing something?"

"I don't feel forced to build this, I get like this alot more than I let show. There are times where I feel like I can't sleep unless I unwind and that's how this feels for me. I just kind of zone out building. I hope that explains what I feel right now a bit better." Bruce replied

Tim's eyes softened at Bruce's words, but the worry never quite left his expression. He took a step closer to Bruce, his hand gently resting on the edge of the table, close enough to feel like a grounding presence without pushing.

"I get that, B." Tim said softly, his voice laced with understanding. "You’ve always been like this working through things by keeping busy. But..." He hesitated, looking at the half-built device. "It just doesn’t feel right, you know? This tech you’re making.. it’s too... advanced for just a zone-out."

Tim paused again, before carefully meeting Bruce's eyes. His tone was gentle but insistent. "I’m not asking you to stop, but if it feels off, maybe you should let me help you figure out what's going on. This could be more than just needing to unwind." He reached out and placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, a gesture that showed he cared.

"Oh okay I mean I won't stop you from checking out what's going on." Bruce responded confused as to why Tim seemed upset by what he was doing. "I mean I don't really understand what you mean by that but go for it."

Tim stepped in closer, carefully examining the unfinished cube. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but his mind was already working through a dozen worst-case scenarios. It was too precise, too intricate for something built just to 'curb' an urge.

"B, what if it’s not just sitting quietly? What if it’s doing something? Guiding you into making... whatever this is?" His voice softened slightly, concern laced into the words. "You’d tell me if you felt like something was influencing you... right?"

"If I knew I was being influenced by something I would. If I had no clue I wouldn't really be able to tell you now would I. I mean I suppose some things could be obvious, I mean I thought I had taught you what to look out for just in case myself or someone was 'under the influence' of something else."

Tim’s fingers curled against the table’s edge as he studied Bruce, the cube, then back to Bruce. He swallowed down the unease creeping up his spine. "Yeah, B, you did teach me what to look out for.." Tim murmured, voice steady but carrying that sharp, familiar edge of worry. "That’s exactly why I’m worried.."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before settling his gaze back on Bruce. His dad wasn’t wrong, if something was nudging him in the wrong direction, Bruce might not even notice. But that didn’t make this any less unsettling. "Look, I’m not trying to make you paranoid but you have to admit this is weird. You don’t even know what this thing is. It’s not your usual post-mission busywork, ..Dad. This is advanced, even for you. And the fact that you’re just rolling with it?" He shook his head. "That’s not normal, even for you." Tim tapped the cube lightly with his fingertips, testing the material. It didn’t react, no hum of energy, no shifting beneath his touch but that didn’t mean much. Not yet.

"I'm well aware it's not normal for what you're aware of when it comes to things I do. I've done rather advanced projects before that are similar, in terms of tech I mean, to this before. It's not really stepping into something new I just... Don't want you kids to become worried over something like this." Bruce replied. "I've had to help Hal when it comes to attempting to rebuild alien tech before so this isn't really much different."

Tim studied Bruce’s face carefully, searching for any trace of discomfort or hesitation. But Bruce was as always, difficult to read. That didn’t stop the unease curling in Tim’s gut. He wanted to believe Bruce, wanted to believe this was just one of his late-night distractions. But it didn’t sit right. " Okay.." Tim said after a beat, exhaling slowly. "Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say this is just another one of your projects!" He tapped the cube again, lighter this time, voice measured. ".. Then tell me what it does."

He tilted his head, watching Bruce closely. "If this is just something you’re working on to keep your hands busy, you should have some idea of what it’s meant to do, right?" His words were careful, deliberate, leaving Bruce space to answer without pushing too hard.

"Sometimes I do sometimes I don't even know until it's finished as the finished product alot of the time ends up looking alot different than the process of it." Bruce replied perfectly avoiding the question with practiced ease.

Tim let out a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to stay grounded. Bruce was good at deflecting, but Tim wasn’t going to let this slide. Not when everything in his gut was telling him something was wrong. "Right.. okay." Tim pressed his lips together, crossing his arms as he looked at Bruce, expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he nodded slowly. "Then let’s finish it."

The words hung between them, a quiet challenge wrapped in careful patience.

Tim tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on Bruce’s. "You don’t know what it is or what it does. You just have to build it, fine. Let’s finish it.. right now. Together." He gestured toward the cube. "Then there’s no harm in me helping you figure out exactly what it’s supposed to be."

Bruce stopped what he was doing and looked directly to him, his gaze was unnerving. "It's no where near ready to be finished. I don't know why it's not but I do know that it's not anywhere close to being done." He then goes back to working on the cube thing like he hadn't been staring at Tim.

"You are being helpful though by keeping me company, it's comforting in a way."

Tim held Bruce’s gaze, his own expression carefully schooled, but the way his fingers twitched against his bicep betrayed his unease. That answer didn’t sit right with him. None of this did. "B…" He started, voice quieter now, more careful. "You don’t know why it’s not ready? But you just know it isn’t?" Tim exhaled through his nose, forcing himself not to press too hard too fast. Bruce would shut down if he did.

Instead, he shifted his weight slightly, arms loosening as he glanced at the half-finished cube. "You’re one of the most methodical person I know- Even when you say you don’t know what something is, you always have a theory. A direction. But this..." He gestured at the tech, then back at Bruce. "You’re just trusting a feeling. And B, I need you to understand why that worries me."

He didn’t say what he was really thinking, that this thing was influencing Bruce, that it was keeping him just lucid enough to avoid suspicion but not enough to truly question it. Tim drummed his fingers against the desk once before stepping closer, dropping his voice just slightly. "I trust you. You know that but something about this isn’t right, and I’m not leaving this alone until we know for sure that you’re still.. you in this, B." His voice softened at the end, concern wrapping around each word. A small breath of a laugh escaped him, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "I can be helpful by keeping you company, sure. But you know me. I’m not going to just sit here and watch if I think something’s messing with you." Tim glanced back at the cube, then at Bruce.

Bruce usually calm and collected regardless of the situation he had willingly put himself into, slams his hands down onto the table and very quickly, almost with inhuman speeds, turns to face Tim. Unbridled anger was plastered there on Bruce's face, an expression he never turned towards any of his children ever. "Then what the fuck should I do with it then hm? Should I just fucking leave it there, let people poke and prod where they don't need to? If you're so fucking bothered by it why don't you touch-" And then the anger just stops.

Bruce cuts himself off hands going and clutching his head in a white knuckled grip. It's clear he's struggling with himself, no, with something else at play here, something that is desperately getting more and more pissed off with the poking and prodding that Tim was doing. The few words he manages to choke out of himself as he bends over the desk trying to grip himself back to 'reality' was just...

"I'm sorry ducky."

Tim didn’t flinch when Bruce’s hands slammed against the table, but the shock hit him all the same. His pulse thrummed in his ears, a quick staccato beat, but he held his ground. The anger in Bruce’s voice wasn’t what made his stomach twist.. it was the break, the sudden shift, and the way his dad’s entire demeanour seemed to fracture before him. Finally, he settled on a gentle grip, resting his palms against Bruce’s shoulders. He was careful, his touch a reminder, an anchor. "B, hey.. hey, I’m right here. It's me, your ducky, remember? ..Quack." His voice was soft, threading warmth through the worry. "You’re okay. I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?" Tim’s thumbs brushed over the fabric of Bruce’s shirt, grounding both of them. His mind raced through every possible explanation, every potential threat, but he forced himself to stay in the moment. To be here, now. "Whatever’s happening, we’ll figure it out. Together. You’re not alone in this, Dad." He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if speaking too loud would shatter the fragile quiet. "If this thing is trying to push you, you push back. You’ve always been stronger than anything that’s tried to take you down." He shifted slightly, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. "...Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?"

It takes Bruce a few minutes to fully calm himself down and fully get a grip of himself. He felt incredibly horrible for what had happened. "I'm so sorry." He knew better, at least for the moment not to try and reach for Tim for a hug or any sort of contact as he knew at least for Tim's sake it would not be good at all. "I... I genuinely don't know what came over me."

Tim remained steady, his hands still a comforting weight on Bruce’s shoulders. His expression softened, the worry still there but threaded with a deep, with unwavering empathy. "It’s okay, B. I’m right here." His voice was a low murmur. ".. I know you didn’t mean it. I know it wasn’t you." He eased back just enough to give Bruce space, his hands slipping away slowly. Tim didn’t push, didn’t crowd him, but he didn’t retreat either. "Whatever this is.. or happened... it’s not your fault. We’ve been through worse, remember?" He offered a small, hopeful smile. "We’ll handle this too." Tim’s gaze flickered to the cube, unease simmering just beneath the surface. His mind raced through possibilities, from tech-based influence to something more sinister, but he forced his focus back to Bruce. "What do you remember? Before the outburst? Anything strange? A thought, a feeling?"

"I felt... Unbridled anger mostly towards the questions you were asking but the odd thing about it was that it was not me, you and I both know that I always encourage you to poke and prod situations where you can so long as it doesn't get you injured or killed. The anger I felt rushed over me so quickly I felt... Stunned like I was watching the actions happen outside of my control before I stepped back in."

Bruce runs a shaking hand through his hair as he tries to calm himself down. "I'm worried that I may accidentally try to hurt you Tim."

Tim stayed rooted in place, his expression was unwaveringly gentle. He didn’t want Bruce to see the fear that clawed at his insides because it wasn’t fear of Bruce, it was fear for him. "I get it, B. I do.. it wasn’t you, and it’s okay to admit that. You’re not losing control over something is trying to take it from you." His voice remained soft, laced with the kind of patience only Tim could muster in moments like this. "And hey… you won’t. I know you won’t." His hands reached out, not touching but close enough to offer the choice, to take comfort or not. Tim’s eyes never left Bruce’s, a quiet, unwavering force. "You’ve been through so much, B and I’ve seen you fight through worse, push back against everything thrown your way. You’re still you, okay? No matter what this thing is doing, you’re still my dad." Tim took a slow breath, keeping his voice steady. ".. Can you still feel it now? The anger, or whatever it is.. ?"

"No not in the typical sense. It's as though it's like a mist or fog, it's there but not really a problem until it gets out of hand? I'm not sure how to really explain it at all." Bruce responds with a small sigh finally looking to Tim and he's terrified.

Tim met Bruce’s gaze, and his chest tightened and aching at the sheer fear in his dad’s eyes. This was something clawing at him from the inside, something even Bruce couldn’t prepare for. Tim offered his dad a small, lopsided grin, trying to inject a little warmth back into the moment. "That’s something.. a fog, not constant, but creeping in when it wants to… that gives us a place to start. What do you think we should do B?"

When I say Dick doesn't have "anger issues", don't I mean he doesn't get angry???

If anything I think he is the one who most deserves to have real fits of rage-

When I say that he doesn't have anger issues, I mean that he has good control over his emotions, he doesn't "explode" at the slightest provocation, what it really means to suffer from anger problems is not being able to control it even in light situations.

Now, when he can't take it anymore and really lets out his anger, Dick Grayson seems to me to be the most dangerous of his family.

Dick gets angry, a LOT, because he has repressed emotions, but saying he has anger issues when he was always a master of control, I just don't get it.

Again, I'm not saying that there aren't times when he doesn't lose his temper, because he does, (with all the shit he's in it would be weird if it didn't happen to him), but people exaggerate thinking that he gets angry about EVERYTHING.

Another proof of the fandom's black and white thinking.

Batfamily - 530*160

Artist : Lan.C

Your incapability of spelling is telling me.

Nahhh not truee, m not tired

Uhuh..

I see no mistakes in my writing😌

Not again

I'm not tierd, wait- tired.

How many Apple do you see in the kitchen?

Uhh wait where is my kitchen? I have no aple

You're not even in your house

I'm not!?

You're in the manor dude! Hahaha-

ohh I forgot- how I managed to forget where I am? Okay I don't even know if my text have any sense.

I dont want to play this again. Just know what you know you have to do please

I did went to sleep.