#[tim hurts me so much ;u; tHANKS!]

[sanatoris]

He doesn’t mirror it in his features, but it PAINS him to see them in such a state, the fabrics barely and slowly held as their hands shake as if their nerves are malfunctioning. Only a silent sigh escapes his lungs, nodding at their words of gratitude. 

A big part of him WANTS to inquire, to dig for details; maybe he can do something to aid? Yet, he stays silent, no questions dropped. It’s not the first time he treats someone without letting curiosity get in the way, always a zip on those lips as his miracle hands work their magic, the only exception are the needed medical inquiries for the sake of a necessary, better outcome. Now is not the time. 

—Felix

His name is muttered softly as a hand gets a hold of his arm, ready to let them be for a little while. Their request only stirs his desire to dig deeper. He is not naive nor ignorant, his experience is telling him this is not just any injury; it needs high velocity and strength to inflict such damage, and it seems secondary after an initial blow, the shape of it alone gives off it is probably caused by blunt force and not a sharp object.

Another sigh is let out, this time loud enough for them to hear, gaze escapes theirs momentarily before LOCKING again. He can see the worry in their eyes, this is no trivial matter, they have seen great danger.   ❝  I’ll try my best.  ❞   He doesn’t throw empty promises, only words that he means. His hand grips theirs, gentle but firm, as if to assure, to calm, patting a few before slipping away.   ❝  I’ll be in the kitchen; you need to eat for the antibiotics not to kick your digestive system with no mercy.  ❞   

Little did they know, he is no foreigner to the world of ugly supernatural creatures, his DESTINY is one he himself would never predict. 

@afterdeaths cont from x

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[walpu]

hey, hey, I don't know how many times I've read your post "pre-relationship" especially aventurine part (omg i love how you write abt him 😭). I wonder how it will be once they are in a relationship and the kissing part please :3 thank u and have a nice day!

THANK YOUUUUU

Hope you'll enjoy this post too💛💛💛

being in a relationship with Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort (do I even write something other that hurt/comfort for him lmao), no beta

can be seen as a part 2 of this post but it can stan on it's own as well

Aventurine

It would take quite some time for Aventurine to move from the pre-relationship stage with you. Will dance around the subject, throwing hints and flirty remarks but as for making an actual move? Oof.

Would cling to your side and shamelessly say something like "aww, can't get enough of me? people may think we're dating <З unless that's what you want them to think haha"

Pathetic. /affectionally.

But seriously, he really wants to be sure that you like him before making a move. That you like him, not his money, not the idea of him. At least that's what he tells himself. And while this is part of the reason, the actual thing is that he's simply... confused. He's already more vulnerable around you than he ever was around anyone else. And dating means being even more vulnerable.

While he yearns for this genuine connection he's also a scared of it. Tim Kreider wrote the line "If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known" about him actually.

It would take some time for him to get used to being in relationship. In the previous post I've mentioned that he, most likely, had some short flings in the past. I seriously doubt that he ever had any serious relationship before you though. It's so new to him. At first it would seem like nothing has changed between the two of you at all. Surprisingly, it looks like he even became a bit more distant.

Aventurine doesn't want to attract any unwanted attention to your relationship since it will only endanger you. Plus he doesn't want to overwhelm you. Plus he doesn't want to overwhelm himself. Plus he is scared shitless.

He can't help but feel that he looses everything he holds dear. After all, it's been like that for all of his life. And he simply can't loose you.

Mini spoiler for his leaked character story, but there is a moment there when he looks at the aventurine stone Diamond gave him and he realizes that despite the fact that he worked so hard for it, now that he has it, it holds no real value since it doesn't fill the emptiness inside of him. Logically, he knows that this won't happen with you. He loves you too much. But there's this subconscious fear inside of him that he's just so messed up inside that he simply would not be able to love you like you deserve.

Be patient with him, this mans doesn't know what he's doing. Don't give up on him and he'll crawl to your side, holding onto you for dear life.

Once he will calm down a bit, he'll make it up for all those times when you were the one reaching out to him. Texts you, calls you, arranges spontaneous dates.

In the beginning of relationship would spoil you with expensive gifts. He knows what it's like to have nothing so he doesn't want you to ever feel this way. And the best way to prevent it? To make sure that you will have anything and everything. Maybe it's a subconscious way to bribe you. Maybe. Not like he realizes it himself.

Once he'll feel more stable and more confident, his gift giving tendencies will get less overwhelming. He still like giving you gifts but now he picks and chooses. His sugar darling deserves only the best, after all.

Acts all clingy, playful and unserious but actually listens to your every word and is ready to fulfil your every need.

Is actually very caring. Shows his care by pestering you and easing you tho.

If you feel down, will sit stay by your side. May randomly start tickling you, if you're ticklish. If not, will find another way to touch you in a playful and somewhat annoying way. After you cheer up a bit, Aven will put his chin on your shoulder and hugs your waist, softly asking what happen and why is his dearest darling seems sad.

As for kisses. Aven will loooove covering your face with butterfly kisses. And not only your face. Will randomly grab your hand and kiss your knuckles and fingertips. If you've made a mistake of exposing your shoulder then be ready for it to be kissed endlessly.

Adores kissing those parts of your body that are usually covered with clothes. It feels fore intimate for him.

And if you have freckles or/and beauty marks. Oh well. Will trace them with his fingertips, connecting them with some invisible lines and sometimes gasp playfully, saying that he found his constellation. Just a silly little guy being a silly little guy.

So touch-starved it's unreal.

Has very mixed feeling about his tattoo being kissed. Would feel... weirs if you would kiss it during your casual cuddling session. He exposes it for the world to see, yes. But still, when it attracts attention of someone who knows the meaning behind it... Makes him a bit tense, it catches him off-guard. However, if you kiss it after a lovemaking session or when he shares some painful memories with you, he will feel reassured.

Will slowly start crawling out of his shell when he's with you. Before he only shared some brief memories of his past with you, now he'll start slowly opening up about other, much more painful stuff.

It still happens randomly and out of the blue. He remembers something, he tenses up. But now, instead of repressing this feelings, he shares them with you.

Don't push him too talk, he'll slowly open up on his own.

Loves waking up next to you. Especially if you're still asleep. Seeing the sun shining on your face fills him with love and tenderness. Only with you by his side he feels truly safe.

[lazycats-stuff]

(Kind of self projecting sorry lol) SO! BabyBat has an upset stomach but Bruce's too anxious about giving him medicine because can his baby stomach handle those chemicals? Insert Alfred rolling up his sleeves "give him here master Bruce" a tired Bruce just hands him over without question and watches as alfred and baby head to the kitchen and suddenly...baby stopped crying? Bruce walks into the kitchen seeing flower stems on the counter and Alfred standing there with a sleeping baby "...How?" "Rosewater master Bruce, i made and fed him Rosewater" Not sure how to end this but basically BabyBat would only drink Rosewater from now on and Bruce has to upgrade his gardening game ,Alfred always has already-made Rosewater so his Grandson is always hydrated and the rest of batbros are just like "hell yeah my brother's too fancy for regular water" I hope you except my request and thank u! I love u

Oh no, I hope you are doing better now. Either way, this is an Alfred thing to do. Thank you for the love too.❤️

Summary: Alfred knows what to do.

Warnings: Alfred knows what to do, Bruce is tired, boys love their brother, but they want peace, fluff all in all.

Taking care of a baby is difficult, even for Alfred. Bruce and him had joined forces for (Y/N). The boys have also agreed to help whenever they could. It was exhausting to take care of a little baby. Bruce and Alfred were sleep deprived at this point and the boys took care of their little brother while the two recovered slightly.

It felt nice to have a presence of a baby here, despite the chaos that a baby brings. (Y/N) was an easy baby as long there was a routine for him. Feed him on time, change his diaper regularly, put him down for a nap on time...

All of the basics essentially.

Oh, not to forget, (Y/N) was often held in someone's arms. Whether it be Damian's, Dick's, Jason's or Tim's, (Y/N) was happy to be in their arms. Bruce was (Y/N)'s favorite none the less. Who wouldn't love being held by their father?

But, it seems that (Y/N) had medical problems. Bruce took him to the pediatrician to see what's going on. It seems that it was (Y/N)'s stomach and Bruce got some medication for it, but he was worried. Bruce believed in medicine, don't get me wrong, but... Will (Y/N)'s poor tummy will be able to handle it?

Bruce has tried everything he could to soothe his son, his anxiety preventing him from giving him the meds. How can he know that the chemicals won't make it worst? Again, he believes in modern medicine, but his baby is...

He doesn't want to hurt his son more. Alfred and everyone else tried to help, but (Y/N) was just in too much pain to even think about calming down for a single second. Jason was sure that (Y/N)'s voice will be lost in a few more hours and Damian wanted to die.

Dick and Tim tried, but nothing worked. At all. Nothing. Tim was exhausted and Dick was going to snap soon. Very much soon. Damian and Titus were out of the manor for these couple of hours and Jason went to the Batcave.

Alfred, all of a sudden got an idea. Going to the garden, he got some roses and has decided to make some rosewater for (Y/N). He cleaned the flowers in the kitchen and then put the in a pot before submerging the petals underneath the water. He put it on low heat and let it simmer for now. He put a lid over it and sighed as he heard (Y/N) crying.

He waited and checked on the petals and smiled when he saw that the petals lost color. He turned the heat off and moved the pot away, allowing it to cool down completely. (Y/N) can't drink hot water. And it would be a nice alternative to the medicine that Bruce is so anxious about giving to (Y/N). The worry is understandable, babies are more fragile than toddlers and older kids so giving them harsh medicine is not a good idea.

Alfred turned on the radio and removed the lid from the pot. He could hear Bruce's voice trying to shush his son, but (Y/N) was still crying from the pain. Alfred waited patiently as he poured himself some whiskey.

Did he love his grandson more than life? Yes, but sometimes, alcohol was important to soothe the headache the crying might have caused. He slowly sipped his whiskey as he waited for the water to cool down. Jason and Damian came down to eat something and Alfred pointed at the leftovers in the fridge.

" What's in the pot Alfred? " Damian asked as the took a container of food to heat it up.

" You'll see soon. I'm just waiting for it to cool down. "

" Is it for (Y/N)? " Jason asked as he looked at the food in the fridge. " Please tell me it's for him.

" It is. " Alfred said and took another sip of his whiskey. Damian and Jason sighed in relief.

" Thank God. " Damian said as he started heating up his food. Jason smiled as he waited for his turn.

" What's in the pot though? " Jason asked as he peered over to look at the pot.

" Some rose water. It's great for the stomach. " Alfred explained and Jason nodded as he looked down to look at the water more intently.

" Since when do we have roses in the garden? " Jason asked as he started heating his own food up and Damian sat down and started eating his food.

" Since forever master Jason. " Alfred said as he finished his whiskey.

Jason nodded and took his food out of the microwave and started eating.

After 20 minutes, the water has cooled down and Jason and Damian have left the kitchen. Alfred rolled up his sleeves and went to the living room, with Bruce still soothing his son. Bruce was tired and Alfred was sure that Bruce's ears were going to start bleeding in a few minutes.

" Hand him over master Bruce. " Alfred said and Bruce gladly gave (Y/N) to Alfred and he just closed his eyes and relaxed, the sound of (Y/N) crying moving further away from him. He kept them closed until there was silence.

Why was there silence?

Bruce opened his eyes and went into the kitchen where he found Alfred, with a sleeping (Y/N) in his arms. How the hell was (Y/N) sleeping?

" Alfred? What did you do? " Bruce asked as he looked around. Why were on the counter stems... Were those rose stems? Alfred chuckled at the confusion that Bruce was exhibiting.

" Rosewater master Bruce. " Alfred said, giving him a very short answer.

Bruce was still confused and Alfred chuckled once more. " I fed him some rosewater. " Alfred explained and Bruce nodded. Whatever it was, it helped (Y/N) out and Bruce wasn't going to question it at all.

" Huh. Thank God for the rosewater I guess. "

" Yes, it's a more natural remedy. I know you were anxious about giving the medicine to master (Y/N), so I remembered this recipe. "

" Alfred, did I ever tell you that you are the most important member of the family? " Bruce asked as he walked closer to his beloved son, caressing his little cheek.

" All the time master Bruce. "

" Good. " Bruce said as he leaned down to kiss (Y/N)'s head and the little boy slowly reached for his father. Bruce took him into his arms and allowed him to rest in his arms.

Dick and Tim popped their hands in happy and relieved that their brother was not in pain anymore. And that he wasn't ruining their hearing anymore.

" Is he okay? " Tim asked quietly and Alfred nodded. Dick sighed in relief and put a hand over his heart.

" Thank God. It's nice to have a silent manor for once. " Dick joked and everyone chuckled. That much was true.

" Well, it's great that our brother is not in pain anymore. " Tim said and walked closer to his baby brother, just observing him.

" Thank you Alfred. " Dick said and Alfre laughed. Bruce rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

After the discovery of rose water, (Y/N) refused to drink anything else. Thankfully, Alfred started feeding him some solid foods so he wasn't going to be hungry. But it was funny the first time (Y/N) refused to drink anything that wasn't rosewater.

Bruce was confused, but Alfred already had batches of water prepared for his grandson. (Y/N) needs to be hydrated. Bruce sighed as he drank his coffee, looking at the garden outside. He needed to call a gardener to plant more roses in the garden...

He glanced back at his son who was happily drinking his water, with Alfred holding the bottle.

The four older brothers walked in for breakfast and they all laughed.

" (Y/N) is so fancy. " Tim said laughing as he made his way to the coffee pot and the cereal cabinet.

" More than you B. " Dick joked and Bruce rolled his eyes with a smile.

" Yes, (Y/N) is a true Wayne. All Waynes are fancy in their own right. " Damian confirmed and Bruce just kept smiling at the banter that was going on here.

" You do know that you have up your gardening skills, right old man? " Jason teased and laughed behind his coffee mug. (Y/N) really did bring everyone together.

" I'll call the gardener the moment I'm in office. " Bruce declared and everyone nodded and started eating in peace. This is a very nice and calm morning for their standards.

" Is it just me or (Y/N) brought us all together? " Jason asked and everyone paused for a moment.

" You are right. " Dick said first and everyone followed with either nods or soft murmurs of agreement.

Jason walked up to Alfred and (Y/N) who finished his bottle of rosewater and picked his brother up in his arms. " My little brother is so fancy. " Jason said as he rocked his little brother, who in turn was shrieking with laughter.

Everyone smiled even more. This morning is really nice. And (Y/N) is a glue that keeps this family close and together.

[sanguineterrain]

Sanne I am BEGGING for “This is real. I’m real. Look at me.” with Dick 🥺🤍

SEXY! love this prompt, thank u for requesting 🥰

"this is real. i'm real. look at me." — dick grayson x gn!reader | tw: fear toxin, hallucinations, panicked reader | 500 words

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

"How long?"

"I don't know—"

"Well, how much did they inhale?"

"I don't know, Bruce!"

Everything is cloudy, warped. If you turn your head too fast, shadows loom over you. You cover your eyes and whimper, trying to shut out the monsters.

The Joker laughs, distantly, and you cry, thrashing. Someone holds down your shoulders and you cry louder. Your hand connects with skin. Someone grunts.

"Shit. Dick, come here!"

Cool hands rest on your face and pull at your hands. You scream and try to fight. The Joker laughs get closer.

"Don't let him get me," you beg. "Don't—he's here, don't... don't let him..."

"Baby, baby, I'm right here."

Your hands are pried off your face. You catch flashes of red, black, and blue. A familiar blue.

But then you meet milky white eyes, and in the haze of the toxin, the eyes turn sinister. You fight, pushing at the eyes, and another pair of hands holds down your legs.

"Let go, let go!" you scream. "Let go!"

"Tim, is it ready or not?"

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

The milky eyes suddenly disappear, replaced by blue.

"Honey, I'm right here," the blue eyes say, and you feel a hand on your cheek. "You're safe. It's me, it's Dick. Can you hear me?"

"Dick," you say, thrashing again. "Dick, he's here. You have to run, he's gonna—"

"No one's here, baby. You're in the Cave. You're safe, okay? I'm not gonna let anybody get you."

Your eyes scrunch up with tears, and the blue eyes blur. There's a pinch in your arm. You flinch and launch forward.

"I'm scared! I'm scared, don't hurt me—"

"Baby, hey. This is real. I'm real. Look at me."

Fingers brush away the tears under your lashes. The blue eyes come back into focus. They connect to a face.

"He's gonna get you," you say, chest aching with how shallow your breaths are.

Dick cups the back of your head. Behind him, you see Scarecrow himself. You start to wriggle, but Dick holds you tighter.

"I've got you. No one's there, baby. Close your eyes for me, okay, sweetheart? Listen to my voice."

"He-he'll kill you—"

"No one's gonna hurt me or you. I need you to slow your breathing. Come on, honey, slow breaths. Breathe with me."

You bury your face in a warm neck. He breathes and you breathe with him as best as you can, clinging to his suit. You close your eyes and cling hard. Dick rubs your back in circles.

"That's it. Good job. I got you. I'm here. No one's gonna get you."

"It feels so real," you whisper.

"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry." Dick sounds choked, and he clears his throat. "It'll go away soon."

"Don't leave," you say instantly, hugging him tighter. Your eyes are squeezed shut so hard it almost hurts.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here the whole time. You still breathing?"

That reminds you to feel his breath and follow them. You thread your fingers through his hair. He smells like home. The gas can create a lot of things, but it can't take away the jasmine detergent Alfred uses, or the spiced cologne Dick dabs behind his ears.

"I'm-I'm breathing," you say.

"Good, you're doing so good. You're safe."

Dick doesn't leave your side for the rest of the night.

[i-yap]

Hi, I saw you wrote about Jason, could you tell me how Jason would behave with someone who loves him unconditionally? but it wasn't even a batgirl or middle , What would happen? Would it be a lot of fights or...? for your past

I wanted you to write so much 😭 please

Yess i do write for jason, ik i show a lot of love to dick(he's my baby) and tim( also my baby) but jason is also my baby( my indian parents are very disappointed in me)

Jason x Superloving! y/n

You are his dream girl!! the perfect match!! a normal girl who loves him no matter what he has to deal with, someone safe, warm and kind to come to after living a life he hates.

You need to be incredibly patient, caring and observant when it comes to jason. Bro can not communicate his feelings nor does he knows how to show them. He wants to , if he could he would bring the stars and moon and make them into pretty beads to have the honor to be a part of your necklace collection. Infact just ask him to and he will find a way. But with you, aka someone who loves him no matter what- he doesn't feel as guilty and insecure about not being able to be as open and romantic as you deserve.

Also jason would really be best off with a non vigilante/hero/powers girlfriend. Some comics mention how much Jason hates this sort of life but has been living it cause he has no other outlet for his trauma and pain and feels like he has no out anymore. So a sweet, kind girl who allows him to see what a normal life could be like. Who helps him overcome his trauma in a healthy way .

Jason also loves simple domestic things, he never grew up with them. Never had anything close to a "home" not a house, a "home. You give that to him. Someplace where he can breathe, be happy and in love.

Fight? haha no way. I mean yes jason explodes sometimes and runs away from expressing himself. And ofcourse you worry for him . He also is super jealous and insecure. So misunderstandings happen. But since you are so loving, patient and openly infatuated with Jason, its really rare that you actually fight. Maybe in the beginning of the relationship but after that almost never fight

Jason could never hurt you, he wont. its his biggest fear . And the moment a single tear comes to your eyes or u get really upset , he drops everything and then you're the priority. Noone hurts you, not even him .

I think you and Jason after a couple years will just leave all that vigilante stuff behind and jason becomes a nice literature professor and you pursue your own dreams. also start a nice way of helping out homeless kids and rehabilitation of substance abusers . ( I will forever push jason literature teacher canon) In the end, you guys will probably the first of the batfam to get married and maybe even get kids. You are everything Jason needs and once he gets over his issues, he'll be sure to tell you that.

I hope this was what you were looking for, I didn't fully understand the request. Thanks for asking so nicely , it really motivates me to write when I see such nice requests.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hurt/comfort with touchy!bestfriend!james when reader trips and gets mildly injured, and it hurts but reader won’t admit it, he helps patch reader up and kisses it better 🤕

You come into your apartment cursing- which is a little unusual because you normally are listening to your music and singing along.

The change in routine catches James’ attention, who’s in the kitchen fixing himself a protein shake.

You’re a little oblivious to him u Tim he’s standing in front of you sipping in his protein shake with his eyebrows downcast in concern.

“What’s up your ass, angel?” Then he zeros in on your cut up elbows and sets his shake down on the key bowl.

“James don’t leave your cup there,” you start saying between blowing away the debris from around your daw wound.

“I’ll pick it up later, what happened to your elbows?”

His big hands are gentle as he turns your arm this way and that, taking in the depth of the cuts.

“Tripped on a huge rock near the walkway.” You say easily, “It’s no big deal Jamie.”

They’re actually really stinging, but you don’t tell James that. He’s going to baby you far more than you deserve for the scrapes on your elbows.

James scoffs, “No big deal, you’ve ripped holes in your top and you can’t stop bleeding.” His fingers circle your wrists and tug you to the kitchen.

“Sit there,” he points to the counter just opposite the sink as he bends down to rifle through looking for the first aid kit.

“James, it’s not-“ he shakes his head, standing up with the kit. He’s like a mother hen sometimes honestly.

“I don’t care if you don’t think it’s a big deal. It’s a huge deal to me, yeah?” He says it with all the sass you suppose he’s got from spending all those years with Sirius.

It’s futile to argue your point any further, so you sit there and let him clean your scrapes and feels him sigh as he gets the blood to stop.

“Dunno how you bleed so much, darling.” He says quietly, pressing his lips to the now cleaned cuts which makes you giggle.

“Now you’re gonna have to clean them again because you’ve been drinking that peanut butter shake.”

James dabs the cuts clean again and then holds up two boxes of plasters. “Do you want the gingerbread men or the brown ones?”

You hum, “Can I have one of each?” James puts them on with far more precision than you would’ve used, and then presses another pair of kisses to each of them.

“There, the kiss should help speed the healing along.” He says seriously, but then grin on his face melts your heart.

“Thanks Jamie,” you murmur, holding your arms out for a hug. “They really hurt.”

James chuckles warmly, “I knew it!” He’s busy rubbing your back when he spots his cup on the bowl of keys and grimaces, hoping he’ll remember it before it gets too warm.

[toecrust69]

Hi! I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests but if you are, can I ask for one, Batfam x vigilante!male!reader (or gn, idc) The reader is a teen (younger than Tim and older than Damian). He’s like super smart and knows martial arts and is a total badass. The bat family has been trying to catch him for a year now. The reader just stopped a drug dealing, near the docks and was about to go back to patrolling but nightwing and Robin show up. They fight for a bit and robin kicks the reader in the water. The reader is exhausted too and passes out. Nightwing sees the reader not coming back up and dives in and rescues him. They take him back to the bat cave, put him in like a cell and the batfam starts questioning him. They find out he’s a kid and a orphan and ALSO knows who they are, bruce decides to adopt him (the reader and Robin not wanting that) but Bruce says something like since the readers just a kid and he already knows their identity, might as well adopt him and keep a eye on him. Thank youuuuu, I hope you can do this! Sorry if it’s a bit much <3

Super Cool Title

Tw: profanity but honestly who cares, bad writing, bad fight scenes

Authors note: don't worry about it at all! I hope u enjoy <3 Also, the reader is gender-neutral so I'm gonna try my best to not use any pronouns. Please let me know if you find any mistakes and I will fix them as soon as possible. Also, I changed some stuff up, so I hope you don't mind.

Enjoy!

The harsh wind hit you as you jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

You'd occasionally go down if you ever heard a noise, but so far, you haven't.

It was a quiet night.

Quiet nights weren't common in Gotham, but every time there was one, something happened by the end of it.

You didn't know if it was some sort if curse put on Gotham but you honestly wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

You landed on a bridge overlooking a river, but you must be been too deep in thought to notice the loud thud behind you.

You did, however, hear the familiar voice of Robin behind you.

"ow," he hissed.

You whipped your head back to look at him and saw him there, on the ground, holding his knee to his chest.

You stifled a laugh as you crochet down in front of him, but still a few feet apart.

"What's wrong?" you began mockingly, "I thought Robins could fly, so why did you fall?".

"Fuck you," he hissed through gritted teeth.

You rolled your eyes and stared patiently at him, waiting for him to give up and ask for help.

He sensed your heavy gaze on him and glanced up at you.

"What" he demanded— rather aggressively might I add— but you decided to ignore it.

You pretended to pick at your nails then said; "oh, nothing much... Just waiting for you to swallow your pride and ask me for some much-needed help."

You smirked when his glare hardened, clearly annoyed.

He clearly wasn't giving up any time soon, so you decided to take manors into your own hands.

Standing up, you fished a mini med kit from your pockets and walked towards him.

He didn't seem to notice you until you were crouched down in front of him —closer this time— examining his seemingly hurt ankle.

He squirmed in your touch and yelled profanities at you as you tried to calm him down and keep him still.

"What do you think you're doing!? Let go of me you mo-"

"Shut up!" your voice was stern which seemed to help him follow your orders. "Stop moving so much— I can barely see what's wrong"

A quiet moment passed and soon you were bandaging his ankle.

"Why are you here, anyway?" you asked. "Still trying to catch me?" you teased with a smirk as you finished wrapping his ankle.

It wasn't a secret that Batman and his family had been trying to catch you for a little over a year now; there had been many articles written about the latest fight between you and Batman.

And, you guessed it, Batman never won.

*sigh*, you're just too cool for your own good...

A mischievous smirk graced his lips as he spoke, "Yes, was it too obvious?".

Before you could process what he was saying, he was launching himself at you and you were on the ground with him hovering only inches above you.

He raised his fists to punch you, but you caught it before it got the chance to.

Kicking him off of you, you stood up and watched as he struggled to do the same.

Your breaths were heavy and you brought your fists and guard down.

You couldn't help but feel bad for the kid. He was still young— younger than you. You know what it feels like to–

Suddenly, you were pushed to the ground, again, with somebody hovering atop you.

The fall was so hard that it knocked the air out of your lungs, but you still managed to crane your neck up to see who it was, only to have a hand planter on your head, twisting it back to where it once was.

"You good, Robin?" ah, you recognized that voice— it was Nightwing.

He nodded his head and pointed to his bandaged ankle. "Yes, I'm okay," he pointed at you, "This imbecile here helped me out".

With his other hand, Nightwing took both of your wrists and held them together as makeshift handcuffs.

Before you could speak, Nightwing beat you to it. "Oh, is that so?" he said mockingly, "I didn't know you had it in ya. Thanks for helping him out but we gotta take you back now."

You groaned. Not this shit again, you thought.

But you weren't going to go without a fight.

He stood up, picking you up in the process. He held you flush against his back and leaned down to whisper in your ear, "You won't escape this time".

You took this position to your advantage and turned your head to face him. Before he could react, you swept your tongue over his cheek.

He stumbled back in disgust and touched his cheek with his hand. He glanced down at his hand in disgust and you took the opportunity to high kick him in the face.

He stumbled back into the ground with a groan and held his now broken and bloody nose.

You turned to face Robin who was now standing up, ready to fight.

He launched himself at you once again but you punched him in the face before he could reach you.

Dumbass, you thought.

He fell to the ground, clearly embarrassed, and you circled him before speaking.

"Say, Robin, was you falling and getting hurt all part of your plan to —unsuccessfully— catch me again?" you taunted.

His glare hardened on you but then glanced behind you.

You didn't think much of it until you realized that he was starting at something behind you.

You couldn't even turn your head fully before you felt somebody hit your back, causing you to stumble forwards.

But you fought yourself before you could fall (again), and turned to face the culprit.

There you saw Nightwing again, in a fighting position.

Fuck not agai-

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by another fight between both Nightwing and Robin.

You might've been strong when fighting with one of them, but not with two of them.

The whole thing was a blur, but all you know is that you somehow ended up tumbling down the bridge rather ungracefully.

Panting, Dick turned to Damian and saskef if he was okay.

"You good?"

"Yes", he responded through labored breaths. "Now all we have to do is bring them back and hope we don't end up getting our asses beat again".

"yeah, you gotta admit they're pretty good."

Damian nodded reluctantly in response. He glanced down at the water and then asked "Why haven't they come up yet?"

He shook his head mindlessly, still trying to catch his breath, when he realized–

"Holy shit where are they!?"

Dick frantically looked down at the water, Damian following suit.

They stared in horror as tiny air bubbles made their way up to the surface.

Before Damian could, Dick dove down into the water to get you.

The last thing you remember before blacking out was Robin— aka Damian— kicking you into the water with Nightwing— aka Dick— by his side.

Yeah, that's right, you know their identity.

You had to admit it took you a while to figure it out, but when you did, you honestly weren't that surprised.

What did surprise you, however, was how quickly you found Superman's identity.

That and how he hid it.

God, the people of Gotham can be so stupid sentimes

I mean— he had the money and the family, so why not?

Anyways, that's not important.

What is important, however, was for you to get out of here.

You had woken up about five minutes ago, but you made no move to show it.

You tried your best to gather some information on where and how you got here.

But that was easier said than done when you were put in the hospital room that was boarded off from the rest of what you assumed to be the Batcave.

Suddenly, the door opened and you heard two heavy footsteps enter the room, along with a light one.

"How do you find them?" a deep voice, who you assumed was Bruce, asked.

"This little demon spawn here kicked them into the water and they passed out", Dick explained.

"Hey!" Damian hissed. "I already said I was sorry", his voice sounded lower and a bit guilty than before.

Bruce only hummed, stepping closer to you and it took everything in you not to freak out.

He reached his hand out to brush a strand of hair from your face and you internally thanked him because that strand had been tickling and annoying you since you woke up.

"Well, they're something" he started plainly and they simply hummed in response.

The door opened and another set of step walked in.

"What did you find on them?" Bruce asked the mystery person.

"Well, they live in an orphanage not too far from here. Actually, its the same one Dick grew up in." his voice was tired, deep, and familiar... Ah! Tim, aka Red Robin

He continued, "Their mom and dad died a couple years ago in a car accident driving and left an inheritance of 3,000 dollars that they will get once they turn 18. Oh! And I think they know our identity"

What? How the fuck did he-

"How the fuck do you know that?!" Damian asked, earning a light slap from Bruce.

"Language!" he demanded and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"Oh, because they've been awake this whole time and they have a whole Google slide about us."

Fuck.

Your eyes snapped open and everybody turned to look at you.

An awkward beat passed when Dick finally broke the this atmosphere.

"I knew that".

You stood in front of the Batcomputer, arms crossed over your chest, as you watched the chaos fold right in front of you.

You changed out the hospital gown and borrowed one of Tims's old shirts that fit you like a glove.

Everybody was screaming at one another and all you did was lean back and quietly munch away on one of alfreds cookies.

His cookies were delicious and you'd gladly sell your soul for the recipe.

Speaking of Alfred, he walked up beside you with a tiny metal tray holding more cookies and gestured at you to take some more.

You gladly accepted with a small 'thank you' and he was on his way.

Jason had arrived not that long ago when he heard that they finally caught you.

He was mainly arguing with Damian and Bruce but you honestly didn't care all that much.

All you could focus on were the damn cookies.

What did catch your attention, however, was Bruce's next words.

"Why don't I just adopt them!? They already know our identity and they'd make a great addition to the family and team!" he screamed.

"Hell no" you and Damian screeched at the same time while everybody else kept quiet.

You briefly glanced at Damian only for him to look around the now quite room.

They seemed to be considering it.

Damian let out a sarcastic and breathy laugh. "There's no fucking way you're actually considering this, Father", he muttered under his breath but still loud enough for everybody to hear.

His voice was almost as small as he felt.

"For once, I agree with him" you said, pointing at him.

"Aw, look, they're both already getting along like siblings." Jadon pointed at you, "I'm gonna call you demon spawn 2.0" Jason teased and smirked.

You and Damian both snapped your heads at him and gave him the coldest glare you could muster at the same time.

Usually, Jason wouldve cowered away in fear but he was too busy laughing his ass off at the resemblance.

You both rolled your eyes and turned back to face Bruce and the others. At the same time without realizing it.

Again.

Some of them were holding back laughter while the rest had their mouth open in shock.

Damian tilted his head and you asked, "What?".

They shook their heads and went back to what they were talking about.

"Well, I don't see why not" Cass started from her spot on the table. "They already know our identity —like you said —and we could always train them to be better".

Everybody else nodded in agreement except for you and Damian, who stared in shock.

"I can't belive this-!"

"You can't be serious-!"

You and Damian spoke at the same time, causing both of you to snap your head ad glare at one another before turning your head again.

Bruce brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and sighed in annoyance.

He muttered random words under his breath for a moment as everybody stared at him in confusion.

He eventually snapped his head up and finally spoke; "It's final," he pointed at you, "you're getting adopted," he pointed and Damian, "and you two are getting along"

You both stared at him for a brief second, disbelief written all over your face as you began protesting rather loudly.

Bruce finally snapped and turned to look at you both. "I said it's final! You can't change my mind!" His voice was stern, and a bit scary, so you stayed quiet.

He sighed in relief once you actually shut up.

He turned his back to face you, muttering to himself again.

You leaned over to Damian and whispered, "does he do that often?".

Damian leaned in a bit too and answered, "yeah, but don't worry, you'll get used to it".

You nodded absently and straightedge your back again when Bruce turned to look at you two again

"See!" He gestured at you two, "you're already getting along well. Jason was right, now stop whining." He began walking away.

They're already making me grow white hairs, he thought

Jason dramatically gasped at his words and followed behind him. "What was that!?"

Finally! Im done! I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I love writing this. I'm really proud of how this turned out and I'm honestly kinda surprised that I managed to finish this quickly

-toes<3

[mazzystar24]

I totally get I just finished my exam week (I had to do a math test at 8am Sat😭). Wish you luck tho!

Also do you have any good buddies fics? Destiel too?

Math test at 8am is BRUTAL

Thank you I will definitely need it😭😭

Unfortunately I only have buddie fics to offer😔:

(Warning I do like a fair amount of angst)

Right where you left me - by hyacinthusbloom ( @thebloomingheather on here) - when I say I might be as big a fan of this fic as I am of the show I MEAN IT, you do not even understand how much I love this fic or how obsessed I am with it, I have reread it so many times despite it still being in progress that I think I may genuinely qualify it as addictive, me and @estheticpotaeto legit wait for updates like a dog at the author’s door istg, like everything about this fic is flawless and written with so much love and emotion and the way the writer captures the effects of trauma is just amazing because it’s so rare to find this level of diving into ptsd and the more uncomfortable aspects of it that are more taboo or less understandable to people, like I can yap for an hour about this fic but I’ll just say READ IT

Any fic by daisies_and_briars ( @cal-daisies-and-briars on here) but one of my favourites of his is Both blade and branch and muscle memory and four can keep a secret and appetency and the two she’s writing right now (change the prophecy and steal my sunshine) -wow at that point I should’ve left it as any fic because that’s a lot of favourites😭😭

Any fic by @loserdiaz plus with them you get enough lighthearted fics to even out the angst

Ooo I’m not sure what their username on here is but lizzybizzyzz is also another writer who I just love their fics

Fractals by hobbitprincess - one of those fics that make you squeak at how much love these fictional characters have for each other

Beneath my mother tongue by archerincombat - the angst the writing the way they hit every single emotional beat? Amazing

Anything by this_is_moony_lovegood

Leave the light on (I’ll be coming home) by HMSLusitania - the presumed dead Eddie fic of your dreams, a constant reread for me it’s just 👌

Anchored by adorkable_buddie - sorry Chris you gotta be injured sometimes just for us to get our buddie dreams hope you understand and we appreciate your sacrifice 😔🫶

empty, broken, lonely, hoping by daniweb - when I tell you I love the presumed dead trope you best believe I’m telling the truth because the ANGST?? Yes please, LISTEN it’s the closest you can get to the emotional beats of killing off a character without ever killing them off because you love them and happy endings too much so TIM MINEAR TAKE NOTES I KNOW YOU SAID YOU LOVE THEM TOO MUCH TO KILL THEM, anyways back to to the point this fic again is just flawless execution by the writer like absolutely love it

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by withmeornotatall - emotional destruction and I absolutely love it, divorce era 2.0 and it HITS

Home is where it hurts- by rileyblue2001 - can you tell I hate the Buckley parents because I HATE the Buckley parents

The one with the return of the sex addiction by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew) - I’ve reccomended so much angst so have a funny little light hearted buddie fic with the father bobby vibes we all love❤️❤️

Okay back to the angst tho 😭😭- out of ashes by Ashavahishta - AHHHHHHH THIS FIC JUST AHHHHH STOP THE WAY I WOULD DIE FOR A FOLLOW UP FIC TO THIS AHHHH I LOVE IT SM AND ITS LEGIT A ONE SHOT I CRIED SO HARD

Falling Slowly; Sing Your Melody (I’ll Sing It Loud) by Princessfbi ( @princessfbi on here who I also love sm of their fics so highly suggest just going on their page and looking through all the fics) - absolutely love it, legit gave me brain rot and got me obsessed for a GOOD while

I'm comin' back, don't let me go by wikiangela ( @wikiangela on here also love love their fics again so check them out but this one is probably my favourite of theirs)

Okay this is looking more and more like a uni reading list so I’m gonna shut up now but I hope you enjoy these fics and that a few of them emotionally damage you like they did me because I love to spread the joy (see: pain and suffering) 🫶🫶

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for leaving my friend groups Discord server?

💐💐💐 So I can find this later. For context, I was in 2 servers that were friend groups, where my friends would all interact with each other, play & stream games, etc. However, recently we had a situation where someone, let's call her Sasha, would send many vent messages in the general channel, then delete said message before we could respond or even look at the messages, & get mad at us for not responding. She'd also complain about everything that happened in her life, school, in games, & she'd always repeat the same things, over & over again. In the end, we got tired of how she was forcing everyone to stop being as active in the server because of her behavior & actions, so we all made another server, without Sasha, so we could interact with peace without her interrupting conversations. This all happened 3-4 months ago. Then 3 of the people in our new server got a game on Roblox, Deepwoken. Another person, let's call him Kevin, already had the game for a while, so they all got the game & started playing all together. They were incredibly passionate about it, it would be the only thing talked about. One of them got me the currency to get Deepwoken, so I could play with them all. A while later, I got a hang of the game, then when I asked if any of them could play with me, one of them, let's call him Tim, would keep telling me that "Oh, you have to play the game alone to get the real experience, & to learn things better." every time I would ask. Sometimes, rarely, they'd answer some questions I had about the game that I didn't quite grasp yet, & a lot of the time i'd just, not receive any answer. After a while, I got tired of how they didn't respond to me at all, so I just stopped playing. Keep in mind, I don't have any other friends that have the game, so I didn't have anyone else to talk to about it. I love my friends but I felt ignored & was hurt, so I passed ownership to another friend of mine, & left. About a day after leaving, I ended up feeling extremely depressed & overwhelmed with schoolwork, eye appointments, a random limb & joint pain that I had no idea why I was having, & I accidentally unfriended Tim. With my being extremely overwhelmed, thinking it was a good idea at the time, I sent him a message saying "accidentally unfriended u mb. u could also not accep, that works too" Then another message after that one, "okay well um, im gonna assume that you arent going to accept it again so thank you for all youve done for me before you say that im making it sound like i gave up; i have given up i gave up a little while ago" After that, I got a message from him saying that I needed to calm down, that my friend request wasn't the most important thing in his mind right now, & that he's allowed to put it on hold for at least a day before I start telling him some "nvm shit". I sincerely apologized & told him that I needed to take a break, that I hope he's doing okay, & that I hope college goes well for him. I did indeed, take a break, for only 2 weeks because I felt extremely guilty, stupid & reckless. Those weeks felt like forever because that whole thing was on my mind 24/7. It was eating me alive. & No, I am not saying to gain pity. Just trying to explain what I felt. Tim answered, told me that I should grow & change as a person, & that he doesn't mean it in a condescending way, that the server was meant to be a safe space, that in order to make everyone comfortable, there's some things we need to just not say or some things we need to think about a lot before saying them. It's the reason Sasha got booted, & that we give as much as we get. I'm reading back on his messages, & I didn't say anything in the server to make everyone uncomfortable. Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[blancheludis]

Whumptober 2024 Day 7: Magic With A Cost

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Jason Todd Tags: Grief, Magic, Tim is a Witch, Self-Sacrifice

Summary:

Tim offers to bring Jason back from the dead. He knows magic always comes with a price and he is willing to pay it. A life for a life. It is not like anybody will miss him anyway.

All magic comes with a cost. Tim likes to think for him to have magic at all, he had to give up his parents' love.

When he was five and they just returned from a dig, he snuck into his father's study, just to get a glimpse at all the wonders from forgotten times they brought home with them. A small earthen vase called out to him and the stopper moved barely without any effort under his small hands. Wind rose and the echo of laughter rang in his ears although there was no one else around. Something came out of the vessel - cold and insistent and powerful - and dove right into Tim. The rest, as they say, is history.

Well, first, he spent weeks too sick to tell reality from the countless, visceral nightmares suddenly filling his head, feverish and fighting the force suddenly sharing his body with him.

His parents thought it was a curse. Tim never corrected them.

---

The death of a child is never a good thing, but something about Jason Todd dying pushes Tim's entire world off balance. He cannot sleep, he cannot eat, he cannot work. The magic inside him, always present, humming right beneath his skin and in his blood, grows demanding, pushing him towards something inevitable. Tim is unsettled by it, feeling for once more like a tool than a partner. And then, one night in the library, he finds out why.

---

The sky is a dark grey, as welcoming as the forbidding monument that is Wayne Manor as Tim walks up to the front door. This place holds a different kind of loneliness than his own home, a different kind of grief. His parents, Tim is sure, would not mind overly much, if he died. They definitely would not fall down a dark spiral of desperation bad enough to draw in all of the surrounding magic and subsequently call a witch with a handy solution directly to their doorstep.

Mere moments after knocking on the door, it opens to reveal Mr. Pennyworth, the Wayne family's butler. Tim has done his research. According to the servants' gossip in town, Mr. Pennyworth is the only person in the whole wide world who can make Mr. Wayne do something he does not want. In order to even get into the house, this is where Tim has to be most convincing.

"Good evening," he greets brightly and does not show any sign of irritation at the way the butler is subtly but disapprovingly looking him over. 

Tim knows he is young and looks younger. He is small for thirteen years, too thin. Pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, thanks to the unsettled magic letting him get little rest, just make things worse. Otherwise, however, he does look like a normal boy from a respectable family and Mr. Pennyworth's scepticism is not appreciated. 

"Master Wayne is not seeing visitors at this time," Mr. Pennyworth says, crisp and final, already moving to turn away.

Tim takes a small step forward. "He will want to see me."

Heat crackles under his skin, urging him forward. His magic has not been this insistent on anything in years. It has never led him astray, before, so he does not let the manor or its butler intimidate him.

"Young sir," Mr. Pennyworth says, too formal to be condescending. "Do your parents know you're here?"

Laughter breaks over Tim's lips, high and childish, along with something else, something darker that makes the hairs on the butler's arm stand up. It is not a trick, really, Tim does not have to pay anything for that effect. Magic loves him. He still has not made up his mind if he loves it.

Mr. Pennyworth stands up straighter, filling out his shoulders with a presence not befitting a mere butler. Gone are the last traces of the genial old man, replaced by something harder, something determined.

"Are you possessed?" No politeness is left in his tone. It rather sounds like he is one wrong move away from performing an exorcism himself, right here on the doorstep to his Master's home. Tim decides he likes him.

"Do possessed people usually give you an honest answer?" he asks, smiling just a tad too widely.

They stare at each other for a long moment, butler and child, duty and magic. Tim is not worried. Magic wants him here and it usually gets what it wants. It is also usually not too unkind about it. 

"I will not allow any harm to come to Master Wayne," Mr. Pennyworth says slowly, not quite making it a threat.

Tim still nods briefly to show he has heard it. "It's a good thing, then, I'm not here for that. I'm here to give him something back that he lost."

Once again, there is laughter, but this time it is not Tim's. He does not move his mouth at all. These halls have seen many generations of Waynes and they just beg to be heard. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim thinks he sees a boy running, the shadow of a shadow, skidding through the foyer with a wide grin. Alfie, look. An exhale. A blink and they are alone again.

The butler has gone pale. He does not look at Tim anymore with even the distant kindness reserved for children. All he sees is a monster. "How dare you come here and wield our grief against us?"

Tim cannot help the small, bitter smile, but he inclines his head in an attempt to hide it. "What if I can bring him back?"

---

Mister Wayne's office, just like most of the halls of Wayne Manor, is dark and forbidding. Lack of light, dark wood and, most of all, their master sitting in the midst of it with grief clinging to every sharp angle, every small movement speaking of destruction, decay.

His eyes are piercing as he stares Tim down, who stands in front of the desk and repeats his proposal: returning the lost child back to life. A ritual he is sure he can do, even though the few books he found where not as instructional as he might have wanted. In fact, they all preached caution. But this is not Tim's idea.

Ever since stepping into the Manor proper, the magic inside him has expanded, pressing against the confines of Tim's mortal body, reaching a bit farther out with every breath. So, no, Tim does not know the how, yet, and he is still not clear on the why, but he is right where he is supposed to be.

"Bringing someone back from the dead is not straightforward," he explains, not losing any of his confidence. "Magic does not happen with a simple snap of fingers."

That, of course, depends. If he coated his fingers in something potent, if he were pointing at a source - but they are not talking about parlour tricks, here. They do not want to break but to mend. Building something always takes more than pulling it all down.

"How?" Mr. Wayne demands, flat and dark. Apart from a brief flash of rage, he has not shown any emotion since Mr. Pennyworth herded Tim into the office.

Beyond ritual circles and power sources and intent, the most important thing about every piece of magic is the cost. The one thing all the texts agreed on is that the cost of curing death is enormous, painful. There are options, of course, but Tim has already decided. He has never liked to depend on third-party sources. No, his magic wants him here for a reason and Tim thinks that is the simple part.

"Do you really want me to bore you with technical details?" Tim asks, tired without growing impertinent. The less he has to explain the better for everybody involved. "Every ritual is different and -"

Mr. Wayne cuts him off with a glare. "I want to know why you are here and what you intend to gain from it."

The honest answer is actually very simple. This house is calling for him, ghosts reach out for him whenever he turns his back, something is haunting his every step. As things are, he does not have anything to gain from this but rest, which is not the worst bargain he could get in a situation like this.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Wayne? he asks, softly. "In fate?"

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Wayne scoffs. "I don't deal with such nonsense."

He would not call it nonsense if he could see Jason's memory flitting through the house, as real and fleeting as any of them who are still alive.

"I am here because of both," Tim says, having long since learned to ignore scepticism. Eventually, they all learn. "Your son is calling for help. I'm not sure whether he is asking for me specifically or if I'm just the first who heard him, but I know that I can bring him back."

Tim does not know any such thing, but he has come to trust in magic, to follow its lead. It is quite impossible not to when it never lets him forget its existence.

"Don't -" Mr. Wayne snaps, then swallows audibly, schools his expression into something neutral. "You can really bring him back?"

"Yes." This is not the time to show doubt. Things will fall into place at the right time, he has to trust in that.

Mr. Wayne breathes, never once looking away from Tim. "When?"

The house sighs in sudden relief, releasing some of the tension in the air. That is how Tim knows he has won the argument.

He cocks his head to the side. "I could bring him back right now, but I think you would want him to come back right." The last thing he needs is impatience or someone looking over his shoulder the entire time.

"Is there a wrong way?" Mr. Wayne asks, his shoulders tensing further.

Tim allows himself a small smile. "You want him to bring all of his soul back with him. All of his memories. All that made him who he was." He shrugs, making himself look more confident than he feels. "Simply animating a corpse would be easy. Giving back life is not." Easy is, perhaps, too strong a word but nobody needs to know that.

"How long?"

These things cannot be rushed, otherwise they will end up with even more grief. And possibly more bodies than intended. Dead ones. "I need to understand who Jason is. I think he will tell me what he needs."

Immediately, Tim knows that this answer was too bold, too outlandish for Mr. Wayne, who is very much a nonbeliever in all things he cannot personally touch. Leaning forward, hands not quite curled into fists, he says, "If you're lying to us, if you're using our grief -"

"I won't ask anything of you, Mr. Wayne, other than that you will let me live here until the job is done." Before Mr. Wayne's expression can darken further, he adds, "I have my own home, my own money. I don't need anything from you other than the freedom to do what I have come here for."

The manor creaks as they look at each other in silence. The sound of the running steps of a child waft in from somewhere.

"Yes," Mr. Wayne finally allows through clenched teeth. "But you will share all your research with me and if I get even a hint of you doing something untoward, you will leave."

"Is that -"

Mr. Wayne stands, effectively cutting Tim off. "I already said yes. Now, get out."

---

Tim moves in without fanfare. He barely brings anything in terms of clothes or personal items. He does, however, ask for a place in the gardens to put up a greenhouse.

Magic always comes with a cost. It could be body heat or a drop of blood, life force in terms of years, willing or unwilling sacrifices. Life is in all things, though, and Tim has learned a careful balance of taking without killing, growing without culling. Plants, after all, do grow stronger if cut regularly, in the right way.

The gardens of Drake Manor are rows and rows of lush green and colours of all kind, ripe fruits and fragrant smells. When he walks his home, magic is all around him.

Of course, he does not have time to plant an entire garden in Wayne Manor, but he has this: a greenhouse full of his most potent plants and windowsills filled to bursting. Green is life much more than crimson is. Here, he can breathe.

---

The theory is easy. Build a summoning circle in which he has to pour enough understanding of Jason's essence to make it stick. A binding circle to make sure he will have enough time for the exchange. The usual physical offerings, both potent in magic and specific to Jason. And then, payment.

All magic has a cost, and great deeds of magic demand great sacrifice. This will not be done with a cup full of blood, no matter the origin. Tim could bleed an entire dragon dry and the fates would not be moved. No, the payment always has to match the demand.

To create life, he has to offer something equivalent. A life for a life.

There are a number of rituals and spells that are powered by human sacrifice. Tim has never dabbled in those, has never even read up on them beyond the basics.

His magic has led him here, has pulled him in with more insistence than ever before. He knows what that means.

A life for a life.

---

Tim keeps to himself and Mister Wayne is more than happy to ignore him. The house, however, is not. Long gone laughter rings out around every corner. Phantom flames flicker in empty fireplaces. Books fall from shelves in the library only to reveal dozens of handwritten notes in the margins. For once, Tim is not the only ghost that haunts a manor.

"I need to know more about Jason's life." Tim ambushes Alfred in the kitchen. "What did he do all day?"

He needs to know, but he does not like seeing Alfred age right before him, hollowed out by grief and memories he has not yet laid to rest.

"Sit down," he offers Tim, smiling despite himself. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

---

"I want to train with you," Tim says one morning after breakfast.

Mr. Wayne tends to avoid him and offering nothing but terse nods whenever he cannot. He does not ask about Tim's progress, does not offer any help that is not pulled out of him with great effort. It is clear that he has let Tim into his home out of desperation, but that he does not believe success is possible. Worse, every time he sees Tim is a reminder of his loss.

"No," Mr. Wayne snaps, alit with sudden anger. He has half-risen out of his seat, towering over Tim.

"It's what Jason did, right?" Tim asks, not showing any outward reaction to Mr. Wayne's intimidation tactics.

His fingertips burn, ready to throw Mr. Wayne across the room if he comes any closer or begins to act on his unspoken threat. Tim is small and young, but he is anything but defenceless.

"You're not here to replace him." That is more a growl than a human voice, somehow befitting the sharp-cut jaw.

Tim leans back in his seat, taking a sip of his coffee. "No. I'm here to understand him so I can bring him back."

Without another word, Mr. Wayne storms out. He does not, however, deny Tim when he appears, a few hours later, in the gym, eager to learn.

---

Tim is not sure what to make of the prospect of dying. He is young. He has seen nothing of the world. His parents do not love him, but he always hoped that, someday, somewhere, he could find love for himself, family. He wonders, now, why whatever was in that vessel spared him, gave him the gift of magic. He wonders what is so special about Jason Todd that fate asks Tim to die for him.

He learns about Jason, learns that he can be jealous of a dead boy, learns that life can be really, unfathomably unfair. He does not find a satisfying answer to his question. With time, however, he thinks it will at least be a worthy exchange. Jason has so much to offer the world. He has people waiting for him. Tim has nobody but himself.

Magic buzzes restlessly inside Tim as he refuses to let it out. Without it, he is entirely human. Entirely breakable. Bruce does not seem to care. He never tires, he never makes mistakes.

Tim could still wipe the floor with him if only he would let go. He does not. Instead, he gets thrown down on the mats more often than he can count.

"Again," Bruce repeats a thousand times.

At night, Tim goes through an unholy amount of arnica and hamamelis and heat sucked right out of the flames in the fireplace so that he can move without too much pain the next morning. His magic purrs, glad he has not forgotten it completely.

---

"Was he often hurt?" Tim asks one night when he is sure that Bruce is nowhere nearby. He nurses his tea, appreciative of its warmth.

Alfred looks up alarmed. "Master Jason? Why do you ask? What happened?"

His immediate worry is just as soothing as the tea, careful attentiveness instead of dismissive ignorance. Tim is not used to so much positive human interaction, he has to take care not to let his guard down too much.

"It's just - he has training with Bruce and then they fight out in Gotham." He shrugs. His intention was never to accuse anyone of anything. It is just intense. "He was just a boy, right?"

With too perceptive eyes, Alfred looks at him. "Are you hurt, Master Tim?"

Tim flinches back, taken by surprise. "No," he lies. 

Although, is it really a lie if he asked for it? Bruce seemed tolerant of his antics in the training room and never once hesitated when Tim got back to his feet to face him again.

His muscles are permanently sore, not used to the exertion. If he would not heal himself, his bruises would have bruises because he never before had to dodge a predator coming after him with intent. His skin spans painfully over his bones, barely containing his magic. It is constantly simmering right underneath his fingertips. He could make sure not a single hit ever finds his target again. But that is not what he is here for. He wants to learn. Magic is not infallible.

Bruce is not hurting him for the sake of pain, but Tim has never had much need for physical fitness. This is like learning to walk, all over again, like getting on a bike for the first time and greeting the gravel of their driveway with his knees.

Of course, at the end of this journey, it will not matter whether his body is trained, whether he learned anything that could be useful for a life he will never have. At the end of this, Tim will be dead and Jason will be back in his rightful place.

Tim does need to learn about Jason, but a small, not insignificant part of him, does this for his own gain. Where is the harm in experiencing this life? Where is the harm in tasting something that was never for him?

"If something is wrong -"

Tim shakes his head quickly. He does not need Alfred to do something rash. "Everything's good, Alfred," he reassures easily. "I'm just not used to so much physical exertion, and I wondered. It was not an accusation. I know Jason was happy here."

Slowly, Alfred settles back into a more comfortable position. For a few minutes, they sit in silence, drinking tea.

"Do you see him?" Alfred then asks, as hopeful as he is cautious.

There is not a step Tim can take in this house without Jason's essence pressing in on him.

"He is not the kind of ghost I could talk to," he says and is glad for it. Otherwise, his task could be done much quicker, and he finds himself reluctant to let go just yet. "But his essence is here nonetheless. I hear most of his laughter in the kitchen."

Alfred's eyes turn glassy and Tim offers a smile, unsure whether he overstepped. Grief is a fickle thing, able to cause both comfort and pain.

"You're a good kid, Master Tim."

Tim does not know about that, but something preens in him at the attention nonetheless.

---

Bruce's temper is a minefield on a good day and he tends not to have a lot of those.

"What is taking so long?" he growls after having summoned Tim to his office. Once again, Tim is not asked to sit. It is eerily reminiscent of his first visit here, having to plead his case as if he is desperate to die for these people, as if his life is worth nothing at all on its own.

Tim looks at Bruce as he takes a moment to swallow his temper. It must have been a bad night, one where Bruce is haunting the house just as much as Jason is, just with less of a positive energy.

"I told you I need to-"

Bruce brings his hand down on the table, making Tim flinch. He has never before felt seriously threatened in this house, but he has seen what these hands can do. He knows what grief can do. 

"I think you just want to take something that's not yours," Bruce accuses with burning eyes. "You want to take his place."

Deep breaths, Tim reminds himself. "Bruce. I don't want to take anything from you." On the contrary, he wants to give something back, to the point of self-destruction, even. He knows better than to say that, though. Bruce would not mind much, probably, giving nothing but token protest. Alfred might be the real obstacle there, and Tim does not actually want to spend time and effort on convincing people to let him die. "I can't tell you why I was called. But I'm not yet ready."

"Do you ever plan on being ready?" Bruce asks, his lips pulling up into something that is more of a threat than a smile.

Planning has little to do with it. Tim is willing to do what has to be done. Life, magic, all of it was a gift. He has not yet paid for that, but something in him tells him that this might be it. This is the universe coming to collect. Why else push him into the home of a dead boy? Why else give him a task that will mean the cost of his life? He is already getting more out of the bargain than he could have hoped for, these glimpses of what it means to be a family.

"Do you want me to go?" Tim asks softly. The magic in him stirs, stings underneath his skin. He breathes to calm it. He will not abandon his task, but he wants to do this the right way.

Bruce is not quick enough to pull his face into impassiveness, to fully hide the fear. "Are you rescinding your offer?"

"No," he promises, gentler perhaps than Bruce deserves. "I mean, I have an entire house just down the road. I don't have to stay here. I don't have to eat here. You don't have to see me, if you don't want to. I can try to get ready otherwise."

It would be harder, of course, but Tim would also not be distracted by liking this life.

"No." Bruce's reply comes too fast, too hoarse. "No. Stay."

Immediately, the pressure that has been building inside Tim releases. His magic is mollified.

"Do you want to spar? Take your mind off things?" Tim then offers, deciding a change in topic is needed and Bruce always seems to do better when he can punch out his grief. It is not how he planned to spend his morning but he is not completely hopeless anymore and has even begun to enjoy the exertion of it.

Bruce, however, narrows his eyes at him. "Alfred tells me you've been limping yesterday."

Traitor, Tim thinks without heat. He grins, careless. "Nothing some good old magic can't fix."

He expects Bruce to nod and be done with the topic. Instead, he carefully looks Tim over as if he can spot any bruises through his clothes.

"I don't want to hurt you," he then says, gentle and honest. It does things to the part of Tim that is still a child waiting for his parents to come home and love him.

"You can't." That is a bold-faced lie, but Tim does not stumble over it. They are talking about different hurts anyway. Physical pain is fine. Getting to live a life never meant for him, to experience love if only from the outskirts of it - that hurts. At the same time, it might be the most precious thing of all. "And if I don't train, then I won't get better."

---

After that first, not very promising meeting on the Manor's doorsteps, Alfred's behaviour in regards to Tim has improved immensely. He was never rude, no, but he has a way of wielding his politeness in a way that cuts. Slowly but surely, the sharpness drained out of his words and expressions, and his service grew from perfunctory to warm. Alfred is the soul of this house and Tim feels honoured to have been welcomed in.

"What is your favourite dessert, Master Tim?" Alfred asks one morning, attentive in a way that would befit more serious questions.

Tim smiles at him over the rim of his coffee mug. "Wrong question, dear Alfred. What is Jason's favourite dessert?" He cannot let the lines blur too much.

But Alfred is not going to let himself be deterred. "I do think you can take an evening off. This is about you."

Nothing is ever about Tim. Even the magic. It pulls and pushes, insists and demands. He is but a vessel. He broke that sealed vase and whatever was inside that now lives in him is always hungry.

Still, there is something endearingly earnest about the way Alfred looks at him. It is hard to disappoint him.

"I don't know," Tim admits.

A pause. A frown. "Well," Alfred claps his hands with too much cheer. "It is time we found out, then."

---

Things are coming to an end; Tim feels it in his bones. He is not a stranger anymore in this house. At times, his own laughter rings along with Jason's, creating a harmony that leaves him breathless.

He knows the manor's inhabitants as well as its halls. Bruce's silences, less broody now but filled with warmth. Alfred's quiet strength and endless capacity for love. He knows where to put his feet to remain standing when Bruce charges at him, knows the thrill of fighting, an intricate choreography. He knows the pleasant ebb and flow of conversations, of stories shared to entertain. He knows the feel of family, of love. Underneath it all, he knows all the places Jason fit.

"I'm ready," he says when they are half-way through breakfast.

Bruce stills. Which is not the reaction Tim expected. "You are?" Hesitation, questions in every angle.

Tim nods, smiling. He has been ready for a week now, but an unwelcome, selfish part of him did not want to admit it, did not want to give this up, and the magic let him. Now it is time to face reality, however.

Bruce looks at him, still strangely hesitant. "What do you need?"

More time, Tim thinks, but that is not part of the deal. He will not hurt these people further, not after they have taken him in and given him the greatest gift of his life.

"Today is the new moon. I will do it then. Later, I'll unearth the coffin. If you want to come, do it soon." The body has to stay inside, so it will not be disturbed before it is time, but Tim does not want to leave Jason in his grave when he cannot help him out, afterwards. "You need to stay inside when I do the ritual. I cannot be distracted." More importantly, the magic cannot be distracted. There can only be two targets for the ritual. Better not add any temptations.

"You -" Bruce's eyes are piercing, but Tim meets them calmly. "It will work?"

The magic purrs inside Tim, which he takes as an affirmative. Bruce still does not believe in it, though.

"I have not done this before, but I've done my research," Tim says, as confidently as he can. "Something called me here. I'm sure." Failure is not an option, anyway. He will not get a second try. 

"Thank you, Tim." Bruce sounds breathless, at once anticipatory and afraid.

"Thank me tomorrow," Tim says, even while the words taste like ash in his mouth.

It is funny, really. The cost has been clear from the very beginning. He will not sacrifice any other human being, so the only viable alternative is himself. He has known that all along. So, why does he feel reluctant now? Why are his limbs heavy and his heart rate too fast? He is a willing sacrifice, a life freely given. Why make it hard on himself now?

He knows why, of course. For the first time in his short life, he actually has something to give up. Before, it was him in his parents' empty house, learning, doing magic feats no one would congratulate him for. Now, he has gotten a taste of what it feels like to be wanted, even if they want Jason, not him. The lines have blurred enough for him to feel the connection, the love.

But it is all right. He can do this. Today, he will say his goodbyes, he will thank magic and fate. He will be ready.

---

Tim makes a last round through the house, wanders in Jason's footsteps and, now, also in his own. He sits on his bed, runs a hand across his desk. In the greenhouse, he says goodbye to each of his plants. Alfred will take care of them, surely, so something of his will remain. In the kitchen, he steals a cookie and laughs when Alfred offers to make his favourites for dinner. He cleans himself thoroughly, body and soul, the last ritual he will do for himself. It is a good day, a good life. Tim is glad he got to taste it.

---

Magic makes it easy to unearth the coffin. It looks a bit damaged, but Tim does not know anything about the natural progression of coffin decomposition to think anything about it. He does not look in. Neither do Alfred or Bruce when they come by, briefly, before letting him do his work.

Calm settles over Tim as he prepares. He has brought his best supplies for this. No need to save them for later when there will never be a later. This is his masterpiece. He draws the runic circles with utmost care, going over each three times to make sure everything is perfect. He begins burning the incense as he places the physical anchors.

He watches the sun set, speaking a prayer of thanks.

---

Night falls and he is ready. 

This is it. This is the culmination of months of work.

Tim's blood seeps into the runes, his bones creak in anticipation. His soul, at once ready and balking, hangs by nothing but a thread. With a deep inhale, feeling his body for the last time, Tim snaps it.

[brucewaynehater101]

HELLO LOVE <3333 kissing all ur posts on the head I'm loving loving the things u do on here !!! WOAHS !!! LIKE U ARE SO CREATIVE AND COOL bringing u silly flowers !!! Getting u a silly bouquet bouquet

:0 actually, I also wanted to hear what make you like Tim !!! What specifically makes him tick for you, what nuances you'd like people to understand about him and his story etc etc !!! I love hearing ppls interpretations (esp since I... myself am not particularly fond of him ;-; but !!!! I do do want to understand what makes people love him) so if you wouldn't mind :D that'd be swell to hear !!!! THANK U DEAR

You're so sweet, my lords. Thank you ^^ I appreciate the bouquet 💐

Also, I completely understand why some people don't like Tim. His 90's era chaotic self is fantastic, but also a bit misogynistic. DC also likes to throw him in every comic that has a Robin in it and try to smother him back into that role. I haven't seen this happening, but I've also heard that Tim fans can be assholes.

So yes. I 100% understand why some folk aren't the hugest fans.

Tim, for me, though, is so dear. Few reasons why:

His story is so fucking sad, my lords

His attitude is hilarious

He's badass and chaotic

He reminds me too much of my younger self

All the Bats are tragic. Ain't a single one who isn't. I typically like BAMF tragic characters.

Tim's story as Robin is fucking devastating. Hit after hit after hit he takes. Yet, he keeps going. I would not have survived what he did.

All the other batkids have sad stories, hilarious wit, are badass, and cause chaos. They share those wonderful qualities with Tim.

I also just really love how Tim's relationship with Bruce is different during his initial years as Robin (with only Steph and Duke being comparable). He wasn't Bruce's kid first. Tim didn't want nor need a parent. He also felt like he had to help Bruce (when a kid shouldn't be taking care of adults. Parentification sucks ass).

Tim became Robin for Bruce. The other Robins became Robin for themselves (which isn't bad! It's actually really rad how Robin helped them [and cursed them but whatever]).

Just... Tim didn't want to be Robin initially, and that strikes a chord. Then there's him working his ass off for that mantle. He's a little shit, but he's Tim.

There's also how YJ is treated by the other heroes.

There's Tim living in Jason and Dick's shadow.

It's the likeness to my younger self that really hits home.

If you don't want any personal details, the bottom line is that a lot of his history/characterization hits home.

Now... Tim is dear to me due to how much he resembles my younger self. I love Jason as well due to him representing more of my older self. However, Tim's thought processes are closer to mine. I also tend not to get angry often.

For history, my parents consistently chose work and alcohol over family. I had to take care of them. I often played mediator, family clown, or scapegoat (which is why I also relate to Jason [I go feral at those horrendous lines Bruce says to him. Have your parents ever stated regret for how they raised you? Have they ever hurt you and demanded you thank them? Fucking hell, Jason. I may not have died, but your relationship with Bruce is killing me]). I was considered "gifted" or smart in comparison to my siblings, despite them being extremely intelligent (they were in honor classes as well). I'm the middle kid, but I emotionally took care of my younger sibling after I turned fifteen (even though we used to get into horrendous fights).

Anyways, Tim has a pathetic mess of a background, but he's badass as well. He's self-sufficient because he had to be, and he's good at it.

I like smart characters that outwit their opponent. I like seeing Tim win.

[house-on-sand]

this song gives me jason vibes lowkey

dude

this IS jason vibes thank you (apparently id heard this song before but never knew the title or anything? so double thanks bc i like it a lot)

theres so much here that screams jason to me i fear this may turn into a long post 😔

"all the things you told me where they meaningless? i needed to know" <- jason and his thoughts abt like. his place in bruce's life yknow? especially with the whole good soldier thing i think. just wanting to know if he was cared about, if that stuff was real, or if it meant nothing and he really was just another soldier in batman's mission.

"told you i ain't mad, so let's stop before we crash / cause i don't wanna run anymore" <- DUDE this is so utrh coded specifically what do you mean!!! it's like his whole speech there!! nd the whole confrontation!!!! & that confrontation does signal the end of jason's running!! bc he's back in gotham and he's finally at the big finish of his plan!! this line drives me insane bc i can see it so clearly in like an edit or something. bc it works so well to me.

"cause you know i wear my heart on my sleeve" <- THIS ONE IS REAL TO ME AND REAL IF U UNDERSTAND JASON AS A CHARACTER AT ALL I SWEAR! LISTEN! YES HES CLOSED OFF AND SHIT BUT HE DOES! SHOW HOW HURT HE IS AND HOW ANGRY AND THIS JUST MAKES SENSE TO ME BC JASON IS SUCH AN EMOTIONAL PERSON N NOT EVERYONE SEES THAT! HE FEELS THINGS SO BIG! ND HES NOT ALWAYS AS GOOD AT HIDING IT AS HE THINKS! NOT EVEN RELATED REALLY BUT IT REMINDS ME THAT JASON IS AN ANGRY CRIER!!! IVE GOT SO MANY THOUGHTS I CANT PUT INTO WORDS ABT JASON TODD AND EMOTIONS!

"you'd be praying on my downfall with each and every phone call / just to see if i'd stay away / you and i could never break this never-ending focus of seeing who could keep playing games" <- very rhato 2016 to me. specifically like around #25 & the annual n stuff. idk if anyone else will see the vision or if it's just smth in my head that makes sense but yknow. bc rhato #25 is the big batman and red hood fight that ends with jason leaving gotham with roy and at the time he's pretty much Banned from gotham bc he'd broken the rules (not really) and batman made it clear that if he did that there'd be no more red hood, jason wouldn't be allowed to do as he wished anymore and all that shit. the whole stay away part is very much abt how jason is sort of Banned and stays out of gotham for awhile. idk can't articulate this one as well

"you lie through your teeth, feels so incomplete / wait for your story to take you too deep / and i call out your name" <- THE FIRST PART IS THE VICTIM BLAMING NARRATIVE AROUND JASON’S DEATH!!! THAT EVEN JAY WILL ADD ONTO BC NO ONE BLAMES JASON TODD FOR HIS DEATH MORE THAN HE DOES!!! U CANT CHANGE MY MIND!! BUT SERIOUSLY EVEN FROM A META POINT ITS ABT HOW EVERYONE ACTS LIKE ITS ALL JASON’S FAULT HE DIED BC HE WAS RECKLESS N SHIT ND MAYBE HE WAS A LITTLE BUT ITS NOT HIS FAULT! IT IS IN NO WAY HIS FAULT HE DIED! HE DIDNT TURN HIMSELF OVER TO THE JOKER AND HE DIDNT BEAT HIMSELF OR BLOW HIMSELF UP! IT WASNT HIS CHOICE TO SUFFOCATE BC OF ALL THE SMOKE HE WAS INHALING!! HE WAS JUST A KID!! AND HES TREATED LIKE THIS CAUTIONARY TALE IN UNIVERSE SO OTHER ROBINS (MAINLY TIM AT FIRST) KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU DONT FOLLOW ORDERS!! JASON DIED AND WAS TURNED INTO AN EXAMPLE! ITS ALL FUCKED UP!

then the calling out your name part is so. it's so evocative of the panels of jason in his grave waking up and realising he's trapped and calling out for bruce!!! it's so. it's got me fucked up

this is a very jason song to me now

[bisexualnerd]

Hii i wanted to tell you i loved that last chapter you dropped, I saw the tag major character death and immediately went ah. so it’s one of those fics. where jay dies and it’s just hurt hurt hurt as the last note. Ahhh just—they haven’t acknowledged each other as brothers yet your honor 💔 and Tim knows now (great pretending your found family aren’t also vigilantes acting from him) and Jason never knew, like peak potential. I can imagine he’s gonna go ??? who the fuck pulled my baby bird into the vigilante business and uh why?? without knowing (if this goes like we all know) that Tim was the one who wanted to honor him and keep Robin’s legacy alive. Also I can imagine the whole imaginary friend think goes back to a box at the back at his head?? Timmy was just getting warmer to the truth and Jay goes out to pull this stuff. classic. (me being annoyed) — Aww but really poor Jay I can imagine he’s never felt more spiteful of the fact that his powers don’t extend to phasing through things and not just walls. jay in my head: cursing under his breath how he just gets partial danny phantom adjacent abilities, i mean if he’s gonna have a power why not have it full pump I-can-walk-through-walls-disappear-and-fly package.

really just really excited where u take the fic, hope u don’t mind my rambling, just wanted to drop my thoughts 💜💜 also like take your time, i hope im not adding pressure or anything

Ohmygosh it's been so long since I've got an inbox on Tumblr!! And of course I don't mind because I'm ecstatic!!! I love hearing you guys' thoughts about my writing!!!

And Jay's death is like, such a constant in the fandom (and when he doesn't die, he still gets injured and traumatised so severely). And there was no way Tim would have let the Waynes know because if he had done that, they would have never, under any circumstances, let him go out to photograph anymore 😂😂

I actually did initially draft up his power to be able to phase through everything, but then I remembered all my evil plans for the series and I was like, skrttt~ STOP! And I had to nerf him 😅 Now I can picture a side story, or a small part of a fic of him cursing his power in Ethiopia 😈 (and why is partial danny phantom adjacent abilities so freaking funny 🤣)

Thank you so so much for the really fun and lovely inbox!!! I hope the direction of the series in the future will keep you interested 🥰🥰

[apopcornkernel]

batman: track and field au

author's note: i just miss track and field varsity even though i wasnt even that good... and ive been thinking about batman track and field au for FOREVER. so today i wrote a bit 📝

things u need to know: bruce is not batman. he's a coach at a school where the rest of the justice league teaches. yes, they're still the justice league. and yes, his robins still end up as vigilantes. jason is 15 in this; the joker hasn't gotten to him yet. also i added some characters ahead of the timeline bc i love them :/

Jason stumbles over from the finish line, grinning and sweat-drenched. And then his face screws up in sudden distress, and he promptly wobbles and collapses onto the hot stadium mat.

A half-formed sound of alarm—

Bruce leaps over the bleacher railing and sprints.

A poor, well-meaning race official gets there first, but Bruce shoulders him roughly aside and crouches by Jason. Jason has turned on his side, holding his right knee tight to his chest and making little pained gasps.

It tears at his heart. “Jason,” Bruce says.

Jason’s eyes are screwed shut, and he says nothing, but one of his hands reach blindly in Bruce’s direction and Bruce grasps it tightly.

“You were terrific, chum.” He squeezes, and feels the tremor that goes through his son. “Stretch your leg out for me.”

Jason shakes his head. “Hurts—”

“I know. I know. Please, Jay.”

It’s slow, and excruciating, but between the two of them they manage to get Jason sitting up, his leg extended straight against the ground. One hand of Bruce’s presses down firmly on the knee, and the other pushes his foot to flex, the metal spikes of Jason’s shoes digging hard into the callused flesh of Bruce’s palm. Jason leans back on his hands, spread flat against the ground, head tilted up to open, cloudless sky, exhaling drawn-out, shaky breaths.

The speakers blare out the next events—second call for Male C’s 400-meter hurdles, and third call for Female B’s high jump. The left side of the crowd begins clapping on beat for their star javelin thrower as she rocks back on her feet, once, twice, and begins bounding forward. Bruce makes a displeased noise. He hopes his throwers remember to pay attention.

A mosquito buzzes by Bruce’s ear and he shakes his head sharply to drive it away. The sweat has been beading at his hairline all throughout, and now it rolls torturously slow down his face. As his hands are otherwise occupied, he makes no move to wipe it, and does his best to ignore the unpleasant sensation.

At last, Jason’s breathing evens out. He tugs his leg gingerly away from Bruce’s hold, cheeks flushed with exertion and, doubtless, embarrassment. “Thanks.”

Bruce sits back on his haunches and wipes the sweat off his face. “Ready to stand?”

Jason raises a hand, wincing as he tests the muscles of his leg. “One sec.”

Bruce nods shortly. Jason safe, his attention wanders over to the bleachers. Tim, thank God, is dragging Damian away from the high railing. Dick and Cass are eating lunch with much avidity—Dick’s best event, high jump, had just ended before Jason’s, and Cass seems to have just returned from shot put. Duke and Stephanie are nowhere in sight, and for a moment Bruce is alarmed, but then he spots them at the stage and relaxes. Duke must have won his high jump—he stands on the highest podium, and even from here Bruce can tell he’s grinning—and Stephanie is clicking away on the school camera next to the official photographer.

As he watches Stephanie turn the camera backward and attempt to take a selfie with Duke, there’s a tap on his thigh. Bruce extends his hand without looking and grasps the hand that interlocks with his, pulling Jason up with ease.

Bruce glances at Jason, and notes how he squints against the glaring afternoon. “Remember to reapply your sunscreen when you get back.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Not everyone is ghost-white like you.”

“You do not have to be ghost-white to get skin cancer.”

Jason grumbles, but when Bruce raises an imperious eyebrow at him, he raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Whatever you say, boss.”

“Good. And, Jay...” Bruce reaches out, tentative, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I meant it. You did terrific.”

Jason beams, bright enough to outshine the day, and something in Bruce’s chest uncurls into warmth.

[jimmy-johns-was-taken]

Howdy, howdy, howdy!! I’m too shy to interact non-anon, but I’d still love to tell ya your writing always brings a smile to my face. I love hearing others ideas and thoughts on the creeps. The varied interweaving of stories and personalities is absolutely fascinating. Thanks for sharing your lovely ideas on here!!

LITERALLY CRYING THANK U SO MUCH I LOVE YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Here, have some general Headcanons becuz you’re just so amazing

General Creepypasta Headcanons

Jeff can’t cry at all, like physically cannot do it

Toby cannot stand Jeff, they think he’s too much and annoying

Toby and Tim get along great (a father-son relationship) but Toby and Masky would kill each other if they could

Hoodie does nothing to moderate them

Slenderman and the Operator are 2 different things

An idea that I’d like to explore but haven’t yet so don’t come at me is that Slender offered Tim and Brian refuge from the Operator in exchange for their service and work

Nina and Toby get along very well, oddly enough

Jane and Tim hold weekly gossip sessions, to which Tim goes and tells Brian and Jane goes to tell Nina and Clockwork

Speaking of, Clockwork is a highly respected creep when it comes to hand to hand combat and chasing down people, she’s really fast

BEN lowkey fears Clockwork and Jane, both of them could kick his ass and he knows it

BEN has the biggest idgaf attitude and in some ways he couldn’t care less about anything

Sally curses a lot, it’s hilarious

Sally is the only pasta who is able to see Candle Cove (I think that’s what it’s called? It’s that TV with the pirate and skeleton) since she’s a child

I love the idea that LJ has no insides, so if he wanted he could just flop around like a ragdoll

EJ cannot stand stomping, it hurts his ears

EJ is mostly nocturnal and he’s silent, everyone is bound to run into him in the middle of the night

Most of the pastas operate at night, but they’re all able to go days without sleep