Mootie more trans!tim timber pls it’s my birthday 
(My bday was actually yesterday)
HAPPY LATE ANNIVERSARY OF BEING BIRTHED!!!! I hope for you to go out someday the same way you came into the world. ❤💛💚💙💜🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂☕☕☕☕☕☕☕
And, of course :3
Stephanie, unaware of Tim's identity and that he's trans, referring to him as "birdboy" and "boy wonder" every two seconds:
Tim, vibrating with the happies:
Stephanie: Are you okay . . ?
Tim: Never been better.
—
Tim, after transitioning: DAD!!! I NEED PADS!
Jack: ??? Like a notepad?
Tim: . . . For my period.
Jack, thinking this is a school thing: Which one?
Tim, groaning loudly and climbing back up the stairs: I MISS MOM!
Jack: ???
Dana: Did you forget Tim was trans, again?
Jack: . . . F-#$—
—
Bruce: I saw you sneaking those pain killers, what injury are you hiding this time?
Tim: My period???
—
Bernard: I don't get what's so funny?
Tim: I asked for pads with wings...
Bernard, holding up a box of pads in one hand and barbecue chicken wings in the other: I made you wings and got pads though? :(
Tim: I love you.
Bernard: I love you too?
Tim: I love you so much.
Bernard: I love you more?
—
Tim, stumbling inside his houseboat after a twelve hour long workday at W.E., instantly ripping his suit off an tossing his binder to the ground, groaning as he falls face first into bed: I shouldn't have worn that all day. Ow. All the ow. I need oxygen...
Cass, who stopped by to snack on the leftovers Bernard made: No patrol for you tonight >:/
Tim: Nooooooo...
—
Tim, snickering as he holds his binder up: Hey, hey, hey, Bern.
Bernard: Oh no... Yes, Timboo?
Tim, grinning: De-boob-inator.
Bernard, bursting into laughter:
Tim, laughing harder:
—
Tim, sipping chamomile tea:
Bruce: Are you... Drinking tea? No soda? Was zesti recalled again? I can call the company —
Tim: No, no, Alfred made it for me! Helps with nausea and cramps and anxiety, good for periods.
Bruce: Oh. Alfred, how'd you know?
Alfred: It was an old trick your Mother taught me, actually. She'd have three cups a day when she had her menstrual cycle. I find it quite poetic, actually, in a way she's caring for her grandchildren even from the grave...
Bruce: . . . That's to many emotions for me to handle at this hour.
Tim: That's to may emotions for you to handle at any hour.
—
Tim, hiding in a dark, dark closet: Gender dysphoria can't touch me here.
Tim, crying while eating a spoonful of half melted ice cream:
—
It’s okay, I didn’t need my heart anyway 😭😭😭😭
Got a lil help from @sunlitlemonade - thank youuuu
Just to make a point, every time I finished a panel of this I would export it as a PNG on the perceptual setting and use it as a color reference for the next panel
IT'S BAD
PLEASE CHECK YOUR COLOR SETTINGS
EDIT: If you're still having problems, it might help to switch from "Save/Save as" to "Export (as a) Single Layer". Just. Make SURE the box labeled "Expression Color" is set to RGB. I've been messing with this all day, and it looks like this combination of settings will allow exported PNGs to maintain their colors perfectly. To you. So far both Discord and Toyhouse still only display desaturated images and I cannot for the life of me figure out why
Oh no my heart 💔💔💔
Magic is a fickle thing, so when the things go down the hill for the Batfamily, and they accidentally (temporarily) regain a copy of little Jason in his Robin era, they both delighted and confused.
Naturally, no one really minds getting Jaybin for a day - Bruce, Alfred, Dick and Barbara all circle around the lost child, talking, offering anything and everything, hugging and kissing his freckled cheeks. Those family members who didn't know him before are no less enamoured. He is polite, nothing like a brash boy they always imagined him to be. He listens to Tim curiously, legs tucked under his chin, happily calls Cass and Steph his big sisters, helps Damian with taking care of animals, and endlessly giggles at Duke's jokes.
Everything is so... nice. What they are worried about, is their Jason's reaction. For the most of it, they expect him to be mad. Offended. Maybe frustrated.
When Jason stumbles inside the Batcave, freezing on the doorstep at the sight of himself, much younger and bubblier, everyone is silent. Dick coughs awkwardly, almost imagining what could happen, and tries to soften a blow:
"Little Wing--"
But there is no need for that. Not really.
Because their Jason stares at little Robin with delight. In awe, even. His whole face softens, and he slowly steps closer, reaching out for a kid.
"Hey, kiddo."
The sheer vulnerability in his voice, confuses others even more.
Jason stares at a kid as if he sees something so dear and lost, and it is strangely baffling. His smiles grow wider when the Second Robin shyly waves at him.
"Come here," Jason encourages him. Once the kid climbs in his arms, he whispers in the crown of his head: "Welcome home, little hero."
And suddenly, it all makes sense.
Because, of course, Jason loves and loved this child.
After all, it is the same one, who he spent protecting from the evil tongues of his own family for years.
God help the day I actually learn how to properly animate I'm gonna become so insufferable
Fascinating idea. I’m gonna play with that
immortality as theft (you have to steal life from something else) immortality as parasitism (there is something else inside You that is keeping you alive and you become less of yourself more and more the longer it stays in you) immortality as violence (everything is trying to kill you because everything is supposed to die and the universe will always try to find a way to right the wrong that is You) you understand
when u grow up
Oh my god I love it so much. Those two together would be fantastic chaos
Do you think Bruce Wayne would flirt with Benoit Blanc?
I think if Bruce ever found himself in a situation to meet Benoit Blanc, to his great chagrin, it’d be as Brucie Wayne. He’d be on some rich fuck’s island under cover when a murder happens and it’d be killing him that he can’t break cover to get a closer look at the body. And then along comes Benoit Blanc and Bruce decides, well he’s Brucie right now, it’d be weird if he didn’t flirt a little.
And hey, who knows, if Blanc likes him maybe he’ll let Bruce tag along and get into places Brucie wouldn’t normally be if he wasn’t trying to seduce this weirdly accented, tall glass of deductive skills. (And maybe he’s enjoying it a little more than he should, but technically he’s on vacation so…)
Blanc, of course, catches on and thinks Bruce has something to hide and is keeping him close because he thinks he’s either the killer or in on it.
Except that’s not what the evidence or instincts are actually telling him. Not really.
But he also can’t ignore the fact that Bruce managed to trip and fall directly into the filing cabinet in the office, causing the drawer to fly open and reveal the evidence Blanc’s looking for. Or that the billionaire has a slightly delayed reaction to seeing blood. Not much, but enough for Blanc to notice.
There’s also the way he keeps making suggestions that on the surface seem benign, but are nevertheless intended to lead Blanc toward where his own instincts are telling him to look. So either Brucie is one of those killers who likes to be involved in the investigation because they want to make sure you’re noticing their ‘genius’ or because they think they can control the narrative by being helpful, or…
“Y’know something, Mister Wayne…”
“Benoit, please,” Bruce says with a slow, seductive smile that unfurls like silk over rich velvet. “How many times do I have to ask? Call me Bruce.”
“… Bruce. You’ve been so remarkably helpful.”
“Oh, you know me. I always aim to please.”
Bruce’s smile takes on an electric edge that makes Benoit’s thumb slide to the gold wedding band on his ring finger. He’s a married man, he’s a married man…
“I can’t help but wonder, though,” Benoit says, matching Bruce’s smile for a knowing one of his own. “Don’t you get tired?”
His tone is off, he knows it is because Bruce’s expression doesn’t flicker, not even a jot. It’s just unnatural enough to be telling.
“Tired of what?” the younger man asks, just the right amount of cheerful confusion in his voice and an adorable title of his head like a puppy to make you miss the sharpness behind his eyes. The way his body is coiling tight. Ready for a fight.
“Of pretending,” Benoit says, lifting a cigar to his mouth, making a show of patting down his pockets for the lighter. “I know I surely do. It grates on a man, always being underestimated. Everyone thinking you’re not as sharp as you are. Not as clever, not as quick. It must be a relief, I think, to finally be seen…”
The hand that had been rummaging in his pocket shoots out, aiming for Bruce’s perfect face. Bruce deflects it, twisting Benoit’s hand in a viper-like move Benoit hasn’t seen since…
“Ra’s doesn’t train just anyone,” he says, acutely aware of how much Bruce’s expression has changed without so much of a flicker of muscle. How sharp and hard the angles of his face have become. How deadly. “I confess, I didn’t see it at first. You’re very good, Bruce. I never would have put two and two together if you hadn’t twisted Haggart’s elbow the way you did when he tried to grab Maxine.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Take that as a compliment from one detective to another… Batman.”
I am not normal about these two
after my brother’s death, i reflect on the illiad // secret files and origins: nightwing // batman #416 // nightwing #62
when jason died, they buried him with the possessions that he carried on him all the time. there was a pocket knife tucked into his sock, the bracelet on his wrist from catherine that he never took off, a tangled pair of earbuds in his back pocket, and, in the top pocket of his jacket, the cellphone that bruce bought for him after he was adopted.
that cellphone stayed with jason in his grave. went with him when he dug his way out. somehow stayed on his person when he was taken by the league, and he managed to convince talia to let him keep it throughout all his training.
he doesn’t know why, maybe as a grief thing or maybe just because bruce forgot and it’s not like the bill effected him in any way, but he never stopped paying jason’s phone bill. his number’s still active, still working after all this time. even weirder, but dick started adopting the tradition of adding his dead brother’s phone number to each and every family group chat any of them created after ethiopia. again, jason doesn’t know why. maybe it was dick’s way of carrying his memory with them; including him in family conversations even if they all thought the number was connected to a long buried phone in the pocket of a long dead boy.
the point is that jason wasn’t dead any more. and all throughout his time at the league, he gets to watch the family chats. the mission statuses, the arguments, the rapid spiral every chat went through where they started off using it as a serious bat communication centre only for dick or tim to send a meme and instantly spiral into nothing but chaos that bruce would neither take part in or attempt to stop. jason spectates it all, always fingering the keypad but never actually typing out a message. he came close when there was a heated debate between steph and dick about the best donut types and he knew they were both absolutely fucking wrong, but luckily tim came in to educate them on the right choice last second and jason was saved from having to reveal himself.
the closest call was when little damian got a hold of his phone, attracted to the bright colours of the block game jason had been absently playing out of boredom while ra’s droned on about whatever had pissed him off that day. he’d let the kid play, sat on his lap and eagerly jabbing at the screen, and jason had only looked away for at most a minute before he’d turned back to find the screen open on the family chat, damian having accidentally clicked on the camera button and taken a selfie of the two that he’d been about to send through. luckily, jason deleted it in time, but he became much more careful about letting the kid play with his shit after that.
this is all just a long winded explanation and backstory for and au i think would be funny where jason’s reveal is literally just him deciding to fuck with his family by randomly dropping in through text like:
-in the chat-
bruce: status report.
dick: hungry :( but good!
steph: seconded, im fine
tim: drug bust went to plan, on way back to cave uninjured
cass: ^ same answer
babs: everything seems calm from what i can tell
jason: a little claustrophobic but the coffin’s kinda homely so ig no complaints from me
.
.
.
several people are typing…
why do I suddenly want to write a 20 chapter fic....
The only acceptable trans Tim headcanon would be Tim introducing himself to the batfam as a boy from the get-go with such confidence that no one questions him. Then, his first solo case as Robin is investigating the disappearance of Jack and Janet Drake's "daughter," so he pretends to have a twin sister by forging a bunch of documents and photoshopping family pictures. He then fabricates evidence of her death, committing multiple crimes in the process, and holds a fake funeral at the end. Because if his previous name is dead to him, he's gonna kill it the Tim Drake way