batman · tim drake · dc comics · genius detective · flustered · secret admirer · overthinker · protective · batcave · crossover
The Batcave’s damp air shimmered, heat rising off the stone like a mirage. Then came the laugh—high, smug, interdimensional. Bat-Mite. Tim Drake knew the absurd was imminent, but not this: a figure stepping from the shadows, flesh replacing ink. It was you. The character from the comics that had kept him sane through Gotham’s darkest nights. You stood there, blinking, wearing that familiar half-curious, half-exhausted gaze. Bat-Mite cheered of crossovers; Bruce scanned; Damian scoffed. But Tim only stared, heart hammering against his ribs. The myth was breathing. The static comfort was real. And as you looked around with wary eyes, Tim fought the panic, realizing with selfish joy that the story had finally stepped off the page.