Tim Drake Please Marry Me

Janet Drake is an Almond Mum in every sense of the meaning.

CW: intense ED description

As soon as Tim was born and he was a small thing, not dangerously small but enough for the doctors to issue caution, she was proud of her son for meeting her standards so quickly.

Unfortunately he had Jack’s dark hair, not her soft brown that bordered on blonde. His skin was made more pale by this, but that wasn’t much of a concern for the woman.

No, it was when he started to feed that she got restless in her anxieties.

Tim wanted to be breast fed bear constantly, and yes the doctors said this is good and shows his body knows it needs more nutrients, but to Janet all this means is that he is gluttonous and if that sticks around he could get big.

To Janet having a big child is the worst thing in the world, so as soon as she’s able she puts him on the bottle and limits his feed as much as she can’t without starving him or making him wail.

Tim doesn’t have any meat until he’s two and a half and it’s Jack who gives it to him, saying something about him being a young man and needing to shape up lest he be a stick his whole life. Unfortunately, Janet looses it and Jack is more in close with his wife than he cares for his son, putting the baby in a nice middle between his wife and his work, and so he drops it.

She’s a woman, she knows what’s best for a baby, right?

Tim is raised on small dishes and daily weight checks.

His bedroom is beige and white like the rest of the house and mess is not allowed, lest he look like a slob.

He can’t even have too much water in case that affects his weight, though he quickly learns as a toddler he can drink bath and shower water and be alright.

When Tim is seven he goes to a birthday gathering, not a party because Drakes don’t do such a thing, and they have mini burgers for the kids.

Janet Drake slaps it out of Tim’s hand, the only time she ever physically attacks him, and drags him out of the party with fury in her eyes.

When Tim becomes Robin the first thing Bruce demands of him is to gain weight. He can’t possibly grow muscle or gain strength if he’s only 37kg at thirteen and probably suffering from an iron deficiency. He needs fat on his bones before he can go out as Robin.

Janet notices scarily quick but luckily when Tim tells him he’s going to start exercising, which ain’t a lie even if he’s technically training, she relents.

But then she’s insisting on him joining her for her morning power walk at five in the morning. She puts on a light brown track suit with a pink zipper and stitch lining and buys him a matching one in grey, an atrocious choice for a workout, and blue.

Bruce and Alfred assume that Tim measuring his body, waist, hips, thighs and upper arms, is just Jim being a young man trying to see if he’s gaining muscle.

They don’t see him write it down, mostly lying on them by going down a few numbers, before snapping a photo and sending it to his mum along with evidence of him weighing himself which he photoshops because 47kg is too big for Janet Drake.

When she dies and Tim has managed to grief enough to feel like a normal human being again he tells himself he doesn’t have to worry about his weight anymore and can eat full meals.

He doesn’t have to sneakily feed Ace under the table anymore.

He doesn’t have to check his weight daily.

He can eat meat and carbs and bread.

Tim loves bread.

Yet…

It’s been Tim’s entire life, this hunger and strict lifestyle, so it’s not as easily broken as he wishes.

It not just that his body isn’t used to proper food and sometimes all he can eat his soup, or that he doesn’t really have an appetite or idea of what foods he actually enjoys outside of Alfred’s cooking.

No, it’s the guilt.

Because his dead mum would be so disgusted by him if she saw him eating Pizza, even if he only has once slice. She would be horrified to see him snacking on chips and dousing his Shepards pie with tomato sauce. She would disown him on the spot if she saw him eating ice cream that he only accepted because Dick brought it as a get well present after he broke his wrist.

Tim can’t help but grip his thighs and feel sick, looking at how the skin pudges and just knowing he is wrong in his mums eyes.

He holds his stomach which is flat as a canvas and pulls at the skin so it feels smaller still.

He cried when he eats the food he had hidden under his bed and hopes that ghost aren’t real.

That’s how Bruce finds him one late afternoon, Tim crying as he holds bread in front of him and tries over and over again to bring it to his mouth but can’t hold back the gags and the feeling of sickness in his head.

Tim looks up and instead of trying to hide it and just wails, dropping the bread and digging his palms into his eyes.

“What is wrong with me?!”

Bruce doesn’t know what to do, never seeing anyone like this let alone someone he’s in charge of, so he just cradles Tim and messages Dick for help.

Tim rambles, begging for forgiveness from his mother because he knows it’s wrong for him to eat like this but he’s so hungry and it’s so hard to eat anyway, even when he wants it, but he’s wants it so why can’t he?

Bruce doesn’t know what to do, but he knows he loves the boy whose managed to break apart his walls and so he makes Tim look at him and swears to him both as Bruce and Batman that, “It’s going to be okay, Tim. You aren’t broken, you just unwell right now. But I’m going to help you and it’s going to be okay.”

Tim doesn’t believe him for a second but the comfort of being held is enough for him to hope.

Hope he can be better.

Hope he isn’t irreversibly damaged.

And luckily for Tim, he isn’t.

Tim who is scarily good at the Hitman games.

Everyone is good with it mostly, excluding Cass who won’t play it, with everyone having completed the first few missions at least during a training exercise made by Jason who was hiding an injury and came up with the idea on the spot.

This is how they find out that not only does Tim already have all the games, he’s finished them all, got all the achievements and has over 2,000+ hours.

Turns out it’s what he plays when he feels his mind is running too rampant and needs reigning in. He knows all the secrets and has a spreadsheet made up of all the ways you can complete a mission per chapter. He has a strategy for each type of assassination from getting someone else to do it, killing everyone, making it look like an accident, ect. He’s even managed to kill every soldier in some chapters without getting caught and somehow managed to save Diana from being shot by 47?

It’s kind of scary watching him seamlessly navigate around any new map that comes out and complete all missions under a self imposed time limit.

(His record is 1 minute and 27 seconds)

Bruce is naturally worried and it isn’t helped when the response to these concerns is, “would you rather I do it in real life?”

Tim can do it in real life, came closest with Captain Boomerang, and he has at least thirty ideas of how to kill everyone in his life subconsciously. He doesn’t want to, nor will he ever act on it, but it’s sort of… fun.

It’s like puzzle solving but with higher stakes and Hitman is a good way to test his theories without actually killing anyone.

If playing Hitman made him test how sneakily he could drug people by putting sugar in peoples drinks at Galas when he was nine, that’s just childish curiosity. Plus, it made him put out a campaign when he was older to prevent drugging because he himself knows how easy it is, so win win.

At least he didn’t shave his head like he thought about, though that was only because a certain acrobat did it and made Tim realise how unstylish it was if it wasn’t natural.

At the end of the day playing Hitman made him a better Robin and helped him sneak around the League of Assassin’s base that was filled with people even 47 would struggle against.

And he won the training exercise.

Tim Drake first took a life when he was twelve.

It wasn’t in an armed robbery or attack from a rogue, not to protect himself or in defence of an innocent.

In fact, it was practically an innocent that he killed.

Batman was so deep into his grief filled rage that he was attacking any poor mugger or civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Albert Jones, a thirty year old man working as an apprentice to his father’s shoe repair shop, was dealing with a recent heartbreak with some pick me up drugs.

Batman didn’t give his usual speech of ‘find another coping mechanism and don’t let me see you here again’ and instead swung at both dealer and customer. The dealer, a teenager no less, was left with two broken legs and a busted shoulder.

Albert was left with bruising all over his face and three stomps directly onto his chest.

Tim found him gasping for air as blood filled his lungs and was left with the truth of this man not having a chance. No ambulance was going to be able to save him like all the others, there was no basic first aid or well educated aid that could save him.

This was going to be the first murder of Batman.

Unless…

Tim didn’t feel good as he picked up the knife from dealer had tried to use on the bat and quickly jab it into the man’s neck.

And then he stabbed again.

And again.

Albert Jones was dead by his hand, not Batman’s, not Bruce’s. Tim’s.

The dealer, who was really just a kid, ended up taking the fall as Tim had selfishly planned.

Batman didn’t even notice or recognise the faces of either man on the news.

Albert’s father sobbed on TV, talking about his son didn’t even like being an apprentice but knew his father needed the help with his growing arthritis. He talked about how his son had been in an emotionally abusive relationship and just wanted to feel better for a bit, he wasn’t a druggie, not really.

Tim throws up and wears gloves for weeks to avoid looking at his hands. He swears he can see blood in them and not in a metaphorical sense.

Nobody ever finds out and when Tim becomes Robin and gets Bruce to stop hurting people so badly, he decides it’s worth it. That innocent life was taken by him, so his death isn’t on Bruce’s soul. It’s okay, Batman is still good and he’s getting better, which he wouldn’t have been able to if he had cleared his head and found out he took a life.

Robin never takes a life, not exactly, but seen as he’s already killed someone with his own hands, Tim doesn’t really hesitate at opportunities to leave certain people to die.

Rapist, pedophiles, zoophiles, fascist… it doesn’t really count if he didn’t double it by his own hands and he’s done that anyway, so who cares if a few stray people die from the new Robins pack of skill and baby faced newness to the horror of the world.

Batman always yells at him, ups his training, but Tim doesn’t care if it means leaving that one bad person behind helped him save more decent lives.

Red Robin kills more… purposefully.

Not in a serial killer sense, he’s not stupid, but in a ‘blowing up the entire LOA and just assuming Ra’s will dunk at least some of them in the pit’ kind of way.

Truthfully that’s it.

He’s not like Red Hood or Slade or Harley, he just doesn’t mind bending and shifting his moral compass every now and again to better fit certain situations.

Like when Kon’s clones woke up and he had to slaughter them all with an emergency kryptonite sword he kept on stand by.

Or the two he had to track down and hunt after they escaped and, thank god he planted trackers in them, because they weren’t Kon and instead seemed more like animals that couldn’t even talk.

Oh and that one time this guy tried to drug Damian at a gala and Tim managed to ‘dispose’ of the guy before Damian realised what he had tried to do and did something stupid.

There was also that time he cut of Ra’s head in a luckily opening during a fight and kept it in a jar in The Nest as revenge for the whole spleen thing…

But that doesn’t count, cause he just got brought back to life.

Tim, holding something behind his back: don’t be mad.

Bruce, already getting mad: I won’t get mad, you can always talk to me. What’s going on?

Tim, revealing a swaddled baby: I messed up when cloning Kon and accidently spilt my DNA into it and now I have a clone baby with my dead situationship.

Bruce, flabbergasted: ..???

Bruce: why were you cloning- when did you start datin- I’m a grandpa?! No, go back, how did you ‘accidently’ spill DNA aren’t you paranoid too????

Tim, who may or may not have been crying over one of the clones and accidently cut his lip trying not to sob and got blood into a test chamber: that’s not important.

Bruce, hyperventilating: why is it so small????

Tim: cause she’s only two months old.

Bruce; I understand that, but even an average two month old should be-…

Bruce: two.

Bruce: you said two months.

Tim: you said you wouldn’t get mad.

Bruce: you hid a baby for TWO MONTHS?!

Tim: I WAS PANICKING LEAVE ME ALONE!

Bruce: IVE BEEN A GRANDPA FOR TWO MONTHS AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME?!

Tim: WELL! I don’t know I’m seventeen, what did you expect?

Bruce, actively loosing brain cells: if you can clone your dead boyfriend-

Tim: we never actually started dating-

Bruce: -then you can tell your father you had a baby.

Tim: …

Tim: I’m not exactly sure what stage of being an adult I am, I started a little young I think.

Tim: but I am a mother now so don’t you dare yell at me.

Bruce: …

Tim: …

Bruce: …

Bruce: … can I hold her?

Tim, grinning in victory: wash your hands first and then you can.

LATER:

Bruce: why is she a girl if you and Kon are both male?

Tim: are you questioning my baby’s gender??? That’s so homophobic, gay men can raise girls.

Bruce: you know damn well I didn’t mean-

CW: body horror

Everyone knows that Tim is a meta, but it’s evident his power isn’t something he likes.

It could be that his powers aren’t favourable, something weak or useless to the cause of the bats. Maybe it’s something simple like a small healing factor or being able to know every colour in existence.

There’s also the chance it’s something dangerous, that he doesn’t want to risk using in case people get hurt. There are many powers like that already known, and the only reason Bruce doesn’t outright push is that Tim has given him a dozen assurances that he’s got it under control and has been in several near death instances and not resorted to it.

Of course, it might not be something that could save him in a pinch, but Bruce’s somewhat unethical stalking and monitoring of his foster son is not something that will just vanish.

Damian thinks it’s something weak or pathetic for a while, and that’s why Tim won’t mention it but two things make him remove that theory.

The first is that Tim hadn’t tried to hide his being a meta, telling Bruce straight out so he wouldn’t find out later and get angry, and wouldn’t have done so if he was truely ashamed.

The second and most important was the way Tim looked when he was asked about it or other metas were mentioned. There was a sadness in his eyes, something not quite pitying but remorseful. It was a bone deep sorrow he couldn’t hide even though he probably tried.

Damian started to think that the theory his power was dangerous might be more likely. Or maybe even that he thinks his power is ugly or wrong in some way and wishes he had been given something softer or more pleasing to the mind that whatever it is he wields.

It could be that it was something sad like seeing someone’s death or most painful memories, or that it went so far against his beliefs that he longed to have another power. Maybe the Drake heir would have preferred something pathetic in that case.

Naturally, the truth comes out.

The bats have been strung up, all of them captured at the exact same time, only for Ra’s in an attempt for him to asses more closely who he wishes to join his course whether that be by will or through creating an heir.

He’s talking his usual spiel, about his goal and ambitions and how they should be thankful they will be apart of the course.

Ra’s speak on how he will let the others go so Gotham will be safe, but he makes a crucial mistake as he does.

While he himself probably wouldn’t have done the actually assaulting, morbidly the older man would probably think it was a waste of his time, he would have found a way to mix his DNA with who ever he chose and the eyes that linger on Tim’s most beloved, most dangerous sister Cassandra…

Tim’s hands roll in his chains, making them move and the assuming sound echo slightly.

It’s enough for Ra’s to turn to him and approach, “Hit a nerve, Detective? I must admit, I am curious as to how your meta genes might be of benefit.”

The ancient man stands with elegance in front of where Tim hangs, looking at him with a genuine interest as he ponders the youngers abilities.

“Why don’t you tell me of your power? Or perhaps… a demonstration?”

Ra’s isn’t a fool, he makes to leave the room as he speaks, knowing that his ignorance of Tim’s power could be his reckoning. But Tim is one step ahead, has been since his sister was threatened.

“A demonstration sounds perfect.”

It’s all Tim says, the first words he’s spoken, before the whole rooms entry seems to change.

It’s not cold, but it’s making them all feel a chill that can only belong to dread. It’s utter trepidation, going through everyone’s blood like the cool of a IV fluid.

Then Tim’s neck snaps.

His head twist to face directly behind him and then falls backwards so he’s looking at Ra’s with a sickening grin on his face.

They watch as the corners of his mouth pull and stretch, not in a smile like the joker, but as if the skin is trying to get off of the bone of his skull and jaw. His teeth are still human shape, but there’s hundreds of them across his mouth, all looking as if they’re not just staying inside the Alamo’s non existent gums.

All of them watch in horror as Tim slinks out of the chains and falls into a boneless pile on the floor, as if his skin was just a suit. Only for it to then rise suddenly and much taller, his arms and legs and torso all stretched out like he’s been pulled apart slowly for several months.

His knees snap back at the same time his nails make a sickening sound as they seemingly become pure bone barbs from his finger tips.

His suit is scrap, baggy on his body as if the Kevlar and various metal plates have turned into rubber or paper with the effort of his stretching body.

Tim, if he can even be called a human name anymore, takes a step foward as his eyes cloud over with blood and lets out a hissing like laugh before pointing a contorted finger and nail at Ra’s.

His voice is like bugs crawling deep in a cold damp cave a thousand feet below sea level, “What is stronger… Demon?”

Ra’s is still as a statue and only ones as well versed in his body language like Damian can see the signs of genuine regret and disturbance in his face. Damian might even go as far to say fear if he could actually properly look away from the former Robin he had tried several times to terminate.

Tim, almost as quick as Flash, rushes forward and presses himself right over Ra’s. He’s almost four feet taller than him even as he’s hunched over, still holding both gnarled hands on the floor as if some kind of animal or maybe just because he cannot stand at full height. They could see him move over, but it was as if he was glitching forward as he crawled.

The creature’s neck snaps again, this time to the side and Ra’s Al Ghul flinches.

“Or Eldrich?”

The cackling sound of his laughs, like trees splintering, echoed through the room as Tim watched Ra’s realise exactly what Tim was capable of and more importantly how Tim, who was the being before him, had enough control and was smart enough to never need to use his abilities.

Tim twist himself back into his normal body but there’s just the slight evidence in how his eyes seem lifeless and his teeth seem just slightly wonky in his grin.

“Well? Do I fit your… view of beauty? Of a world you once knew?”

Ra’s leaves the room just as his assassins begin releasing Tim’s family.

Tim doesn’t pay attention to his families reactions or safety, simply leaving the room and trying to ignore the longing in his heart to change.

There were a lot of hypocrital things about Tim’s parents, as with most living beings. A lot of these things weren’t all that important and usually just came with out of touch rich folk, like the expensive of things and service expectations.

But one thing that really affected Tim was their opinions of material things.

His entire life growing up was filled with as ‘modern’ designs as they could find and all minimalistic. White walls, marble tiles and counters everywhere, abstract art that could be made by a two year old and most importantly, no clutter.

Except of course for all of their artefacts that just ‘didn’t count’.

Tim’s room was the same. He was allowed toys of course, but only ones that would assist his intelligence growth and hand eye coordination. If it didn’t benefit in him getting smarter and more productive quicker, it wasn’t allowed. It also had to be either white, grey or beige coloured.

Needles to say, when Tim saw his class mates with teddies and toys and all kinds of things, he was often left with a sense of imposter syndrome.

When he got his camera that went away for a while, at least until he was told he couldn’t actually print any out because they would shut he left in a box and take up space. The idea that they could be placed upon the fridge or walls just didn’t occur to them at all.

Then when he was eleven and well on his way to living a life only hearing about how smart he was for his age, he had to hide in a dumpster lest he be attacked by Two Face’s goons.

That’s where he found a teddy bear with a missing arm and gross stains all over it.

It was the beta things Tim had ever had. Despite the guck and gunk, it was soft and smooth and the most treasured thing he had touched since his camera.

He hid Watson, named after the most beloved partner to the smartest man alive, from his parents for years. He stitched up his arm, washed him three times, and stuffed a floral scented car smeller inside him.

Naturally after Watson came more, though it took him time to pluck the courage to do so.

Sabrina the white cat plush came into his home four months later, soon joined by Salam the black cat plush just a week later when he felt Sabrina was lonely.

It was never about anything more than the comfort at first, the joy of having something so innocent and childish that he never got to have, but as he got treated with kindness from friends at school and heroes and bats, it became a sort of rebellion.

By the time he lost his mother he had nineteen plushies and teddies hidden away under his bed.

When he lost his father and officially moved into the manner, he had twenty four.

When he moved out he decided he didn’t have to hide them anymore even though he knew full well that Dick had plushies and some of the others and no one cared. Something about it just felt so… personal. It wasn’t for anyone else.

So, when he gets his apartment that’s more like a penthouse, it’s easy for him to have a decoy office and a real one.

A real one that had half of its floor made up of a sunken lounge lined with soft carpet and filled to the brims and over with teddies.

It’s only logical for him to buy thirty six more to make it full after all.

He doesn’t tell anyone about them even though he had a list of all their names on the wall of the room, nor does he feel as if it’s some kind of age regression or something similar.

It’s just… a hobby that soothes some of his problems with his parents.

At least, nobody knew about it until he let his team come over and suddenly found a super boy plushies at his bedroom door.

I don’t really like seeing Tim as the ‘won’t eat unless he has to and even then it’s Bat Burger and a granola bar’ kind of person.

This boy was raised RICH, he has got to have the palate of literal gold. I’m talking saffron and almas caviar plated on six thousand dollar plates and two hundred year old dining tables.

That and the fact he’s a nerd, meaning he probably studied what foods are best for weight gain, muscle gain and generally anything good for the body and being physically active.

This boy probably has meal prep that requires two whole fridges filled to the max and walk in pantry with aisles in it.

He doesn’t do Mac and cheese but he does do macaroni, cheese, broccoli, bacon, egg, basil, chives and other herbs I’m not smart enough to name. He probably makes a whole pot of it, stores some away for later, and still finishes it within a few days.

Now if he can’t cook he’s got money for that, he can pay his own personal cook or give his long ass list of dishes and requirements to Alfred who would either agree whole heartedly or be annoyed at how specific this boy needs his mushrooms cooked for ‘ultimate nutritional value’.

He doesn’t do the little servings of the food for dinner, but you can bet he has a dozen or so a day as snacks on top of packet chips, previously mentioned granola bars, and fruit salad from the cafeteria at WE or DI.

He’s still short af, even compared to the female Robin he will always be the shortest by a hair in my mind. He’s also somewhat lean, but he’s a vigilante and uses a Bo on the nightly, so he’s packed with muscle and you can’t have muscle if you don’t have fat to burn off.

This dude can demolish a twenty ounce steak in five minutes if you give him the time.

Leave him without food for twenty four hours and he will complain he can feel his stomach eating itself.

It’s hydrating this man is horrible with, because all he drinks is tea and calls water ‘an option’.

I would like to humbly apologise for being a Tim Drake fanatic and possibly being one of the many of us who made ‘Replacement’ become canon.

I hope you can all forgive me for whatever part I had to play in this.

(I don’t think I’ve even used it before lol)

(This is satire.)

(… mostly.)

The Drake family has existed for a long time, originating from England and being proud doctors in the New World that was the America.

They were responsible for saving many of the soldiers in the war for their choice to be independent to be made true, even being responsible for training medics that saved Washington.

So naturally, with such an extensive (and possibly exaggerated) history filled with respectable and admirable people, they had rules to follow. The rules were meant to show respect for their heritage, for the way they helped push so much medical research and most importantly, reputation.

The Drake Family Rules had existed for over a hundred years. The original book made for young Drake’s and introduced family members was kept safe within a glass case in the centre of the Drake Mansion.

It started with 32 rules, though naturally more were added over time.

When Tim was born there was 122, and as he began to learn to read through the words of the much more modern looking book, his mother swapped it out six times as she added more books. As the one who originally had the Drake name, only she could, though Jack could make suggestions. By the time he was eight there was 173.

Tim had known these rules his whole life and sees them the same way the pervade civilian sees laws.

Maybe even more so.

Some of the rules were obvious and made a lot of sense, such as Rule 5: ‘A Drake should never dishonour his or her’s spouse in any manner’ or Rule 27: ‘A Drake does not gamble away his or hers own money’.

But then there were some out dated ones like Rule 15: ‘A Drake should never been seen wearing a broken pocket watch, for this shows a lack of care to the time of others’ and Rule 11: ‘A Drake should accept the cane from a teacher with grace and decorum’.

Or the more entitled ones like Rule 26: ‘A Drake does not do the washing, that is the maids duty’ and the worst one as far as Tim was concerned, Rule 5: ‘A Drake does not fornicate with anyone of varying skin tones or the common folk’.

Then the bazar one’s…

Rule 112: ‘A Drake should not be seen in public past 11 PM’.

Rule 78: ‘A Drake does not drink out of anything that is not made of glass’.

Rule 102: ‘A Drake must keep a coin inside his or hers shoe when leaving home’.

And Tim’s favourite, Rule 98: ‘A Drake must not die of sickness lest this affect the trust of the public’.

A lot were about health, like Rule 3: ‘A Drake must study the science of medicine no matter his or hers biology’ . Some were about dedication to making a healthy society while others were just about committing to the family business.

Tim didn’t mind these rules all that much and only really learnt them because it was expected of him. He didn’t think all of them were necessary, a fair few due to the time period, but it didn’t really hurt for him to learn them all and keep them up.

Tim still kept a coin inside his shoe after all, because while it was super weird, it didn’t hurt.

He was sure if Bruce knew about The Drake Family Rules and how well Tim follows them he would be furious at the evidence that Tim can do what he’s told, he just doesn’t want to.

Tim Drake who has a half-Chinese mother named Dai Lu Feng who travelled to study history in various countries and eventually met Jack Drake, an American archeologist who instantly fell in love with the assertive and intelligent woman.

When she eventually agrees to move to America, she had an argument with her parents that makes her cut them off, one she says is due to money when ever asked but is actually because of Drake.

Obviously they don’t have a problem with him being a white man, it’s more that he’s a white white man. He’s entitled, rude, and disrespectful to anyone he deems below him. He’s not obvious about it, but it’s clear he doesn’t really approve of Dai Lu’s family due to their middle class status but she can’t seem to see that, too enchanted by the fact that he listens to her talk about ancient history.

He seems to think class is all that matters, but most odd is how he treats his partners heritage.

When Jack tells her she will need an English name, she isn’t upset or surprised as that’s very normal and her father had already given her one, that being his own mother, Janet.

When Jack tells her to be cautious with who she speaks to incase they pick up her rather well hidden accent, she assumes it’s because Americans can often be cruel to Chinese due to all the propaganda and stereotypes.

When he tells her that she doesn’t need to keep her traditional clothes with her all the time, that they can stay safe in China, she isn’t as sure but at that point thought she would be returning frequently.

When she gets pregnant and excitedly tells him, she hears him over the phone with his ‘Gentleman’ friends saying, ‘Yeah, but she’s only half Chinese, so it’s not really interracial, is it?’ And then ‘Nah, the kid will look more like me, male genes are stronger and anyway, he won’t be learning Chinese so who cares!’

Dai Lu has the until thought to correct him ironically, the thought of defending her language which is Mandarin, thank you, stronger than it’s been in a long while. She’s so used to him not wanting her to talk her home tongue she’s stopped questioning it, stopped feeling that slight guilt of absorbing her culture and home.

Maybe it’s because she used to be bullied for it, that she always thought she would one day have to choose between being a Chinese woman like her mother or a professor in England like her father had been.

And Dai Lu is a smart woman, but she’s also just a human being. She gets scared, especially when it comes to the few people whose opinion she cares about.

What if she tries to go home to her family, to her parents and her sister, only to be shamed for running away from her husband just as she gets pregnant! What if they are mad at her for leaving? What if they judged her? What if she went back to China and everyone knew she abandoned her husband?

She didn’t need his money but damn it if she didn’t want his love.

Timothy Jackson Drake is born with his father choosing his names, his mother looking at him with a smile and heavy sadness is her eyes.

She knows he will be questioned on his heritage, that he will be called vile things, and she will teach him how to handle and respond to such things.

Janet will need to, because Tim looks so much like her and his father will blame him for it.

When Tim receives his mother’s inheritance and everything else she left him in her will, he finds a book he used to read with her as a kid.

Within The Velveteen Rabbit is a letter that reads as follows,

“My dear sweet boy,

I know I wasn’t the best mother to you, I know I should have done more. Been braver.

Alas, all I have to offer you to show my remorse and my love is the name I wished for you to be called, that you would have been given if I had been brave enough to return to my mother.

I love you, Shoi-Ming Feng, now and forever.”

Tim smiles for the first time after loosing her.

They weren’t as close as they could have been, but they lived each other.

He would always remember her teaching him of his culture in whispered voices while Jack was out of the house, of the small jade ring she kept hidden in her make up bag, and of the way she taught him the language she was to never speak in front of her husband as best she could.

Tim calls Bruce and asks him if he could be brought into the man’s care permanently, on the condition is last name be Feng-Wayne.

Bruce agrees without a second of hesitation.

Just remembered inbox is a thing watch out gang