#Now that it's no longer Tim Drake struggles day I can post this

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

This was an excuse to experiment with new brushes but also if I don't draw coziness/softness for too long I go into withdrawal

As usual version without overlay is under the cut :D

[ckbookish]

BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost 

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim. 

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide 

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones. 

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute 

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

or

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call. 

6 Two-face: The Better Choice 

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat? 

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself. 

  8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?” 

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message 

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true.  That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs 

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.   

13 Dad:  Storge 

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily.  The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way. 

 “Your dad must have his hands full with you.”  Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.  

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view.  It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world.  The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield...  Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad.  But he wasn’t. 

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning 

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.   

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing 

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.   

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard.  The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway.  Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter.  He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it.  Wolverhampton.  

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been.  Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.  

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.   

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.   

23 Kidnapped:  Chum 

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing. 

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Softer Than Silence

Read here on AO3!

(Takes place right after this fic which I wrote like a year ago and only now got to making a sequel for whoops.)

Summary:

“Your larynx was severed. It was a pretty nasty injury and Leslie did everything she could, but your vocal cords...they weren’t salvageable. I’m...I’m so sorry, Tim.”

Tim lets that sink in. Severed larynx. Unsalvageable vocal cords.

Oh, god.

Tim doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes up. He’s not even sure how he’s waking up. A slit throat in any universe should be a certain one-way ticket to the afterlife—don’t pass go, don’t collect two hundred dollars. Dead. Maybe Tim is dreaming. Or maybe he’s dying right now and this is just his brain flashing forward to the future he could have had, “Owl Creek Bridge”-style. His ears feel like they’re packed with pillows, but voices make their way through his warped awareness like pencils poking through aluminum foil. “I say we should draw straws.” “Really, Jay? That’s your suggestion?” “You got a better idea, Dickface?” Someone clicks their tongue. “You’re both cowards. Let me be the one to tell him and I’ll have it done in less than a minute.” “I can’t even tell you all of the reasons I’m not letting you do that.” “Yeah, kid, your bedside manner fucking sucks.” “It’s better than yours!” “Will you both shut up?” Tim would feign sleep and listen longer, but the drug-induced haze is fading faster than he can keep up with. His throat burns with a fiery vengeance, flames creeping up his windpipe. He shifts, a hand instinctively grappling for his throat. Someone stops him. “Tim? You awake?” He opens his eyes. Dick is beside him, lowering Tim’s wrist back to the bed. They’re in the medical area of the Batcave; he can tell by the dank air and a sliver of rock peeking through the gap in the curtain surrounding them. Jason and Damian stand off to the side, their expressions unreadable. Tim opens his mouth to ask them what happened, but before he can utter a vowel, Dick is squeezing his hand. “Don’t try to talk,” he says. Tim obediently settles back, wariness rising in his gut. He reaches up with the hand not in Dick’s grasp and discovers a thick bandage plastered over his neck. That can’t be good. “Do you remember what happened?” The man flicks Tim’s blood off of his sword. “I would love to continue this riveting visit of ours, but it seems like my mission is complete. Have a pleasant night, Mr. Drake.” Tim nods with a wince. “You were lucky,” Dick says. “Conner found you and brought you here just in time. You lost a lot of blood and Leslie had you in surgery for a while, but she was able to fix most of the damage.” Tim doesn’t miss the most, and Dick grimaces when he catches it as well. Tim arches one eyebrow—a clear, What aren’t you telling me? “Looks like that’s our cue to duck out,” Jason says. He grabs Damian by the shoulder and ignores the raccoon-like hands smacking him away. “Glad you didn’t die, Tim.” He ushers Damian out and they disappear, leaving Tim’s stomach curdling. He looks to Dick for an explanation. “There...there was a lot of damage, Tim. You’re lucky to be breathing right now.” That should be good, right? Tim is alive. There’s no tube in his neck so he can breathe on his own, and aside from some residual soreness under the buzz of the drugs, he feels fine. This is a monumental victory. So why does Dick look like he’s delivering a death sentence? Tim wants to ask, but he physically can’t do that. Dick doesn’t seem to be able to either. “Your larynx was severed. It was a pretty nasty injury and Leslie did everything she could, but your vocal cords...they weren’t salvageable. I’m...I’m so sorry, Tim.” Tim lets that sink in. Severed larynx. Unsalvageable vocal cords. Oh, god. The utter horror on Tim’s face must be unmistakable because Dick is rushing to comfort him. “It’s okay, Tim. You’re going to get through this.” But Dick’s voice is muffled by the ringing in Tim’s ears. He can’t lose his voice. He can’t. This isn’t happening. Tim scrambles to sit up, his breathing becoming ragged. He sucks in a deep breath, opens his mouth, and tries, tries to make a noise. Tries to make a single sound, but all that comes out is a rush of air. He’s shaking. He tries to speak, to yell, to scream, and there are tears running down his cheeks and his gasps are empty and his throat hurts but he doesn’t stop. Dick’s hand is on his back. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.” Tim hates that he doesn’t even have the ability to argue, to tell Dick that there’s nothing to figure out. Tim can’t speak and meaningless encouragement isn’t going to change that. Nothing will change it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s an adjustment, to say the least. The first day, Tim holds out a flicker of hope that this is all some dream and any minute he’ll wake up again in the med bay, throat repaired and vocal cords intact. He can’t believe this is happening to him. In his entire life Tim never once considered what it would be like to lose his voice, never prepared himself for the possibility. He’s watched Cass trudge through reading assignments from Barbara and struggle to find the right words in a conversation, but it never occurred to him just how much Tim relied on his ability to speak. He took it for granted. His first day out of the med bay he finds himself slipping up again and again, opening his mouth in response to a question only to remember that that’s no longer an option. He doesn’t know enough sign language to partake in a conversation, so he avoids them altogether. He hears Alfred humming along to an opera album down the hall and is filled with a vicious, panging envy. Never again will Tim hum, sing, laugh. It’s all gone. Everyone keeps giving him the same droll sermons. He’ll get through this. It could have been worse; he could be dead. Cass manages just fine with sign language, and Tim can too. He should count himself lucky that the damage wasn’t more severe. But is he lucky? Is he really? Tim has already lost so much: his parents, his friends, his Robin career, Bruce. And now his voice. Life just doesn’t know when to stop taking from him. Maybe it will never stop taking, not until he’s an empty husk. Conner left for Smallville just a few days after Tim awoke. He never said why, but Tim knows it’s because he feels guilty. Tim wants to reassure him that this isn’t his fault, that Tim would be dead if Conner hadn’t saved him, but it would take too long to write down. Bruce taught Tim basic ASL shortly after he began his Robin training, sticking to the most rudimentary of phrases that one would need for crime-fighting. Yes. No. Please. Thank you. Help. Safe. Danger. Steph offered to learn sign language with him and Alfred left a sneaky pile of ASL books on Tim’s desk, but he hasn’t touched them. He instead relies on a whiteboard and marker to communicate, rarely as he does. His search for Bruce has been put on hold, not of his own volition. He supposes it’s fair. After all, Tim can’t even order a hamburger anymore without the help of his whiteboard. Not that he leaves the manor much, anyway. The bandage on his neck draws too much unwanted attention. He’d hate to see what Gotham’s press would conspirize about a Wayne son with a mysteriously slit throat. Tim’s days are spent in his room, working on cases out of the action. That’s what he does now, sitting on his bed with his laptop, music blasting through his headphones. Dick pokes his head in without knocking. They still haven’t devised a system for that yet. “Hey, you got a second?” Tim flicks his fingers in Dick’s direction: his way of acknowledging people these days. He pauses his music. “Damian and I are heading out on patrol now.” Tim says nothing. Obviously. “Alfred told me you didn’t eat dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast.” Tim rifles through the papers sprawled around his knees and holds up a crumpled pink post-it. Throat hurts. “That excuse again?” Tim shrugs. “Look, I know you’re frustrated, but what you’re doing isn’t healthy. You know that, right?” Tim twirls a finger in the air. Whoop-dee-doo. “That’s real mature.” Of all the things I have to worry about right now, I’d say maturity is pretty low on the list. Not that Tim says any of that. He doesn’t know the signs and he let his whiteboard fall off the bed somewhere to his left hours ago. He doesn’t bother reaching for it. Dick comes closer to the bed and stops. “Can I sit?” Tim shrugs and goes back to his laptop. Dick sits on the edge by Tim’s knee and reaches over to close the computer. Tim flips him one of the few ASL signs he does know. “You have a right to be angry about this, but you can’t project that anger onto us. Me, Damian, Alfred—we’re not the ones you’re mad at. And we all want to help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t let us. So start letting us.” Easy for him to say. But Tim knows he’s right, as infuriating as it is, which is the only reason he doesn’t turn his music back on and shut down for another week. Sighing, Tim opens the laptop. He pulls up a blank word document and types for a moment. He turns the computer around to show Dick. Speech for Neon Knights foundation in a couple days. Already written. Just need someone to deliver it. Dick nods, smiling. “Sure. I can take care of that. And it’s okay if you need more time to work through this, but I want you to remember that I’m here if you ever want to talk. Or, well—you know what I mean. Just remember you’re not alone in this.” Tim wishes he could tell Dick the truth. That Tim does appreciate everything he’s trying to do—really, he does. Tim doesn’t know where he’d even be if he didn’t have Dick by his side, making the world a brighter place just by existing in it with his endless patience and unfaltering optimism. If only he had the voice to tell him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason wouldn’t call himself a particularly caring individual. That sort of legacy is better left to the real heroes, like Bruce and Roy and Dick-fucking-Grayson. It’s for this reason that Jason didn’t stick around for a hot second when Tim got hurt, nor did he return for the aftermath. Tim is dealing with enough shit right now. He doesn’t need his asshole older brother getting involved and making him feel worse. Jason can’t imagine what it would be like to be in Tim’s situation. For starters, it would utterly butcher his knack for smartass remarks. Plus, there’s no finer euphoria than screaming obscenities at a blubbering criminal right before he puts a bullet through their skull. Losing his voice would be losing half of what makes him the Red Hood. Red Robin, on the other hand...he’s always been quiet. Not like Cass, but getting there. He relies on shadows and ninja-like swiftness to get the point across that this is goddamn Red Robin and you should be wetting your pants in his wake. But Jason’s smart enough to know that the silent schtick is done by choice. It’s a maneuver and a learned behavior rolled into one. He can only imagine how torturous it must be to be silenced by force—to be muzzled by something completely out of his control. (Fine, so Jason cares about the kid a little. Sue him.) He goes into the Batburger restaurant (Jesus shit, whoever came up with the idea of a Batman-themed restaurant should be shot in the head. Or maybe thrown a parade. He can’t decide) and scouts for black hair and pale skin. He spots Tim in a booth all the way at the back and heads over, sliding into the seat across from him. “Hey, kid.” Tim picks his head up from where he was engrossed in a game of Solitaire on his phone and gives a two-fingered salute. A notepad and Superman pen sit on the table in front of him. “Did you order yet?” Tim points to the scar on his neck and Jason mentally slaps himself in the forehead. “Right.” Tim picks up the pen and scribbles for a minute. “What,” Jason says, “no whiteboard today?” Tim turns the pad around to show Jason. Too bulky. People notice. Below that: Nuggets, fries & grape zesti. “Magic words?” Tim rolls his eyes. He tears out the page and bounces it off Jason’s forehead. However, he does lift his right hand and rotate it in front of his chest, palm flat: the ASL sign for “please.” Jason recognizes it from his minimal knowledge accumulated from Robin training and conversations with Cass. “Attaboy. For a minute there I was worried Alf failed in making a decent person out of you.” Tim sticks his tongue out, which makes Jason chuckle. He goes to the counter and relays Tim’s order, along with his own. While he waits he dares a look back and finds Tim back to staring down at his phone, shirt collar pulled as high as it’ll go. What must it be like, going from Gotham’s favorite billionaire playboy-in-training to a silent teenager who can’t go to a restaurant without people staring at the killer scar across his throat? Jason’s seen the gossip magazines. Some speculate a failed assassination, while others are sure it was a suicide attempt gone wrong. At least Jason’s scars can be covered by a t-shirt. Tim can’t hide his without a turtleneck, but it’s summer now. He’s forced to endure the speculated theories and pitiful glances, meanwhile Jason has the benefit of being legally dead on his side. He doesn’t have to worry about people remembering him. Losing one’s voice only months after losing his second father figure is tough shit for a seventeen-year-old. For anyone. He doesn’t know how Tim does it. Jason goes back to the table and finds Tim doodling a stick figure on the notepad. It’s got thick, narrowed eyebrows and pointed teeth. “That supposed to be me?” Tim’s mouth quirks. He fingerspells, Damian. His sleeve falls down an inch, exposing a med-alert bracelet. Alfred must have made him start wearing it. What with his asplenia and nasty habit of fainting in places when he forgets to eat, it makes sense that Tim would need it. If something were to happen, it’s not like he can inform paramedics of the deal. “You really captured the evil in his eyes.” Jason takes a bite of his cheeseburger while Tim busies himself with arranging his fries in size order, the little weirdo. “So how are things at home?” Good, Tim signs, his movements clunky and unpracticed. Dick… He frowns and scribbles on the pad. Helicopter parenting. “Same old, same old, right?” Tim levels an unimpressed look. “What? It can’t be that bad.” Benched indefinitely. It sucks. “Can you blame him? I wouldn’t want you in the field like this yet either.” Cass, Tim writes, and leaves it at that. “But she’s been functioning without speech for her whole life. She doesn’t need it to be understood. You’ve only been doing it for two weeks.” And a half, Tim writes. “You know what I mean. ‘s not like you can call for help if you get gutted in an alley.” Never thought I’d see the day when you’d take Dick’s side. “Yeah, well, sometimes the fucker has a point.” He takes a sip of his soda. “You know, I talked to Babs yesterday. Said she’s working on tech that’ll let you use morse code over the comms. If she finishes it on schedule, you can be back out there in less than a month.” Tim just nods, eyes dimmed. It’s weird seeing the kid so quiet. The real trick used to be getting Tim to shut up. He used to spend hours rambling on and on about whatever science kick he was on at the moment. For as quiet as Red Robin could be, Tim Drake never ran out of things to say. Jason misses it. He throws a sesame seed at Tim. “Hey. I’m trying to have a conversation here.” Tim makes a gesture that Jason doesn’t recognize. At Jay’s confused look, Tim writes on the notepad, Fuck off. “Cassie teach you that one?” Steph. Wanted to learn curse words first. “Of course you did. You know, you should hit up Jericho. He knows exactly what you’re going through, and I’m pretty sure he was able to teach Dick sign language in less than a year.” You’re the fifth person to say that. “I’m a fucking genius, we know this. But seriously. It might be useful to have someone in your corner who knows how to cope with this kind of thing.” I’m coping fine. “By listening to shitty emo music all day in your room? Yeah, because that’s super healthy.” Tim twiddles the pen between his fingers, glaring at Jason. Finally, he puts it to paper. I keep calling my cell phone to listen to the voicemail. Jason blinks. “Why?” Don’t want to forget what my voice sounds like. “You won’t.” Forgot my mom’s after a year. Starting to forget my dad’s. Tim pauses before adding, He yelled a lot though, so I think he’s got a lead. Jason has no fucking idea what to say to that, thanks for asking. He gives it a shot anyway. “Then...then I’ll remember it enough for the both of us. It's kind of hard to forget that annoying-ass nasally voice babbling about Star Wars for hours anyway.” Wow, thanks, Tim signs with an eye roll. No problem, Jason signs back. That makes Tim smile for the first time since Jason sat down. Maybe this kid will be all right, after all.

[afni-fics]

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins by C_R_Scott Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: Jack Drake had lied to Tim about his grandmother's death. However, Jack is also dead himself. Tim attempts to cope with the aftermath of learning the truth of what his father had done. Fortunately, he is not alone.

...

"Jack lied."

Lucius's words were stuck in Bruce's head as Alfred drove him into Gotham City from the Manor. They kept repeating themselves over and over and over again. After about ten minutes of focused brooding, Bruce finally voiced the question he knew he couldn't run away from.

"How did I miss this?"

From the driver's seat, Alfred glanced at Bruce via the rear-view mirror. "You had no way of knowing."

"I should have known."

"How?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "Tim didn't even know? His fa--" The old man choked on the word with a grimace, as if he'd bitten into a piece of bitter melon. He huffed irritably before continuing. "--Jack lied to him for years, and gave none of us any reason to suspect anything coming out of his mouth was false."

Bruce shook his head as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. After three rings, the line finally connected.

"You do know it's not even noon, right?" Barbara Gordon grumbled. "What could you possibly want at this ungodly time of the morning?"

"It's about Tim."

There was moment of pause. When Barbara spoke, drowsiness had been replaced with concern in her tone. "What's wrong? Is he alright? Is he having a delayed reaction to the new Fear Toxin?"

Bruce hesitated before answering, making a quick mental note to double check Tim's bloodwork as soon as he could. If Tim was suffering a delayed Fear Toxin reaction on top of everything else, that could further complicate his son's compromised emotional state. 

"It's not about the Fear Toxin, though that could be exacerbating the situation in the background," Bruce said finally. "I need you to do some digging into Tim's family history."

"You're asking me to investigate Tim? Why? What's going on?"

"Tim was never an orphan."

"WHAT?!" 

"We just discovered today he has a living maternal grandmother," Bruce explained. "But for whatever reason Jack Drake lied to Tim and his mother eight years ago and told them both she was dead. From what I've been told, his grandmother was supposed to have had full custody of him back then. Then she got hospitalized. When she was finally well enough to be released, Jack had managed to sever all ties between her and Tim."

"Jesus Christ," Barbara breathed out softly. "Does Tim kno-- Never mind, of course he knows otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to do the investigating. Is he with you now?"

"I'm going to his place in the city with Alfred to check on him. Tracker says he's stationary at the Nest."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Do a deep dive into the history between Tim's parents and his grandmother. Her name is Susan Klein. We need to learn what exactly triggered the original custody arrangement, as well as how Jack managed to take custody away from Susan and hide the fact that she was alive from both Tim and his mother. I also want to know why the hell the courts and CPS didn't get involved back then to return Tim to his grandmother, especially after Jack died."

"You also want to find the rest of Jack's skeletons," Barbara inferred. "Because if Jack lied about something this big to his own son--"

"--What else did he lie about?--"

"--And how much damage could this do to Tim if it's brought to light?" Bruce could hear Barbara indulge in a weary sigh. "Holy shit... Ok... Ok... Ok... Give me an hour to get a shower, coffee, and food. Then I'll start digging. This is all cold case kinda stuff, so it's not going anywhere. Keep me posted if you pick up any new leads from Tim."

"Thanks Barbara."

"Oh, by the way... Who else knows about this?"

"Alfred, Lucius, and Tam."

"Alright. I'll keep this on the down low from the rest of the fam until you can check on Tim. Take care of him, Bruce."

"I will."

With the call ended, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. What was he going to find when they finally got the Nest?  He didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Bruce and Alfred found themselves being led through Tim's home by a deeply concerned Tamara Fox.

 ...

Three months and twenty-eight days.

That's how long it took for Tim to travel around the US and the world, investigate multiple archaeological sites, survive the Council of Spiders, cripple the League of Assassins, save the girl, and return home with proof of his adopted father being alive. So much mileage, blood, and lives lost had gone into the journey to recover Bruce Wayne from the time stream Darkseid had sent him into.

Nineteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

That's all the time it took for Tim to find evidence his grandmother was alive and well and still living in the same house she always had for the past fifty years. He didn't have to leave Gotham. He didn't even have to leave his workstation. All the information was at his fingertips online. All the evidence pointed at the conclusion that his grandmother (and the truth) had always been just a few keystrokes away.

But that couldn't be right. If that was right, that meant his father lied to him and his mother. Jack Drake wouldn't have done that. So it had to be wrong. Tim just couldn't figure out how the evidence was wrong.

"Recognized: Tamara Fox. Alpha-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-One. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

The voice of Tim's AI security matrix echoed through the cavernous space of Tim's brand new "Nest", the hidden vigilante base of operations tucked behind his renovated theater home. The young man barely acknowledged the announcements, though, as he sat motionless at his workstation with his elbows propped up on the desk and his face buried in his hands. Slowly, his hands shifted, sliding down his face over closed eyes to linger over his nose and mouth. Tim drew in a breath through his nose and tried to release it slowly through his mouth. Despite his attempt at control, his breath shuddered audibly as he exhaled. Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and shifted his hands to press against them. The adjustment exposed his mouth pressed into a grim, trembling line as he struggled to keep any sound from escaping.

Despite his best efforts, a thin trickle of moisture escaped his hands and coursed down his cheek. 

Tim heard the hidden door that connected the Nest to his living room slide open, and blindly identified the footsteps of three people walking into his inner sanctum. One of them he was certain was Tam, and he had his suspicions about the other two.

However, in order to confirm them, he would have had to remove his hands and open his eyes...

...and he was not ready to do that just yet.

 ...

The moment Bruce laid eyes on Tim, he felt his heart ache at the sight before him. There was his son, sitting alone at his workstation, and everything in his body language was silently crying out with shock and dismay. 

For a brief few seconds, Bruce froze. His mind was a panicked jumble. What could he do?! What could he say?! How was he going to fix this?! 

Then Tim slowly lifted his head from his hands, and he when he looked over at Bruce, the older man's breath got stuck in his throat. His normally confident and unwavering teenager looked so dazed and hurt and utterly lost. 

"B?"

A single letter, barely whispered, partly a question, but mostly a plea, was all it took. Bruce's feet were no longer rooted to the floor, and he quickly closed the distance between himself and his son, because his boy had called out to him.

Tim rose to his feet as he saw Bruce approach, and he let himself be wrapped up in his adopted father's arms. Bruce could feel Tim lean into him, could feel the anxious tension in every muscle in his son's back as the boy buried his face into his chest. 

"I'm here, Tim," Bruce murmured as soothingly as he could as he stroked Tim's hair. "It's going to be ok."

"I... I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Tim whispered mournfully.

"Wrong?"

"Dad said she died. He wouldn't have lied about that. He couldn't have." Unconsciously, Tim's hand fisted into Bruce's shirt, as if he were hanging on for dear life. "But Lucius says she's alive... Been alive this entire time. And the evidence..." 

As more words spilled out from his boy's mouth, Bruce heart broke at the brittle desperation in Tim's voice.

"I have to be missing something. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making a mistake somewhere and I don't know what it is." Tim drew in a shuddering breath. "Or maybe it's the Fear Toxin. An after effect? Maybe it's making me hallucinate? Mis-hear... Misinterpret things?" He turned his head from Bruce's chest and gazed uneasily at the workstation monitors. "Maybe I'm just seeing things? Maybe I'm just losing my mind?"

The fact that Tim's voice took on a hopeful edge at the thought of going crazy sent a stab of deep concern through Bruce. A quick glance at the workstation monitors showed him all the evidence Tim had dug up on his own since leaving Wayne Tower. A lump rose to his throat. When he spoke, he could barely force his own voice above a hoarse whisper. 

"You're not hallucinating, Tim. I... I can see the evidence myself."

Tim's eyes widened at the screens, then he shut them tightly before shaking his head. "No... No no no no no..."

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce glanced over to Tamara, who looked close to tears herself, but was managing to just barely hold herself together. She had one arm wrapped around herself and the other held her cell phone. He could see Lucius's name on the screen as the current active call. 

"Yes?"

Tam swallowed hard before answering. "My dad's on the line. I told him we found Tim. He... He's with Nana... Tim's grandma... right now."

Bruce felt Tim freeze in his arms. He felt his own heart stutter as well. 

"She... would like to speak with Tim, if he's able. She understands though if he's too overwhelmed right now."

Tim turned his gaze to Tam's phone, his red-rimmed blue eyes wide and warring between longing and dread.

Bruce stroked Tim's back. "You... don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured. "We can wait until you feel better... Until we figure things out on this side."

For several seconds, there was nothing but tense silence in the air. Bruce could practically see the gears turning and grinding in Tim's mind. He could see the war play out on his son's face as he struggled to make a decision. Then, finally, Tim uneasily reached out and offered an open hand to Tam.

Tam nodded and raised the phone to her own ear first. "I'm handing my phone to Tim now." Then, she carefully gave Tim the cell, watching as he wrapped his fingers about the edges of the device and raised it to his own ear. 

"H-Hello?"

Though he was still holding Tim closely, Bruce wasn't close enough to hear much of other end of the call. He could tell it was a woman's voice, but couldn't make out most of the words. But he could see his son. He watched, helpless, as after a moment Tim's eyes filled immediately with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. One short anguished sob escaped him before he used his other hand to clamp his mouth shut. Though it stifled the sounds, Bruce could still see and feel the sobs wracking his boy's entire frame. 

As Bruce held him tighter, he could hear the tone of the woman's voice shift to something so soothing and maternal that his own heart ached along with his son's. It had the desired effect of calming Tim enough so that the could finally find his voice once more. 

"I love you, too, Nana," he whimpered softly. Then, he stretched out his hand and gave the phone back to Tam, who was in tears herself as she took it back. 

Once his hands were free and the phone was pressed again to Tam's ear as she spoke with her father, Tim crumpled to the floor as he burst into tears once more, this time without restraint. Bruce followed him down to control his fall and let his son cried brokenheartedly against him.

"He lied," Tim keened between sobs. "He lied... He lied... He lied..."

Tears coursed down Bruce's face as he watched his son come apart at the seams. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Alfred gazing at him with love, sorrow, and tear-filled eyes as well. Though long dead, Jack Drake had broken their beloved boy's heart, and they would be damned if they didn't do their best to put the pieces back together again and make things right for everyone involved.

...

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: This was a challenging chapter to write. I hope I did Tim's breakdown justice. Things will, hopefully, start looking up for him from this point onward for a bit.

As for the length of time I put down as Tim's search for Bruce during the origin Red Robin run, this was just a wild guess on my part. In the comics, there was a map on a page in the first issue showing a map with pins on where he had previously investigated. Based on that, I estimated he had been travelling nonstop for at least several months before being intercepted by Ra's and getting dragged into the League and Council drama along with Tam.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

[skiesoftwilight]

Clear Insecurity (Time Drake)

I forgot I had this one saved honestly! I written it so long ago and never posted it, but now I'm gonna so you can read I :) I hope you all enjoy :)

Word Count: 2507

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tim’s shaky hands frantically dove into the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, shoving the half empty bottles of vitamins and aspirin aside to look for the tiny box that held his contacts. His blue eyes were narrowed to the size of slits while he leaned over the sink to get a closer look into the back of the cabinet; although his glasses sat on desk in his bedroom, he refused to put them on to even find his other option that would temporary fix his vision. If he didn’t find that case soon, he would never descend the stairs and choose to be a recluse just for the night.

While his hope for finding his contact case was dwindling, it was restored when he felt the crumpled paper box come into contact with his calloused fingertips. With a grip of a lion, he quickly pulled the box out of the cabinet and set it on the edge of the sink and opened it up to find that there was none left.

“This can’t be happening, not now…” Tim muttered to himself as he looked back in the box to double check before sticking his hand back in the cabinet to see if he there was a possibility of there being another box, but there wasn’t.

Tim let out a disgruntled sigh as he shoved the box into the trash and placed both of his hands on the sink and bowed his head down in defeat. He was already on edge about Bruce hosting one of his charity balls at the manor at the moment but now that he didn’t have have any contacts to wear, that ruined the rest of his night before it even began. He was dressed in a very sleek navy blue suit with a powder red tie and all he needed was those stupid contacts, but he ran out.

While Tim leaned over his porcelain sink deep in thought on how to go about his sudden obstacle, you were climbing the stairs and slowly making your way to his room. With one hand gripping the railing of the stairs and the pulling up the the skirt of your red evening gown, you still found it hard to climb the stairs in your white heels. Your silky soft (H/C) locks were done in cascading curls down your back but they were curly swept to one side of your face so you could see were you were steping.

Slowly approaching Tim’s bedroom door, you could hear the low pitch of his voice; he was mumbling to himself about something and usually when he did this, you knew there was something wrong. Standing in front of his door, with your hands still curled into your chest, you wondered if you should interrupt him on whatever he was doing. You didn’t want to upset him since you and Tim hadn’t been in the best of places of your year long relationship.

Letting your worry overpower your shyness, you pulled one of your hands away from your chest and lightly knocked on his door, calling his name softly to see if he would respond right away. You stood there for a good minute before trying again with the same response. You knew he would have answered at least on the second call, so you decided to take the initiative and enter at your own risk.

“Tim? You okay?”

You slowly pushed the door open and poked your head inside to see that his bedroom was vacant; the lights were dim, but you could tell by the strewn about clothes and the closet light still on that he was in the general area. Your gentle (E/C) gaze spotted that the bathroom door was cracked and that the soft white light crept out of it. Coming all the way into the room, you pulled the rest of your dress in with you and shut the door softly.

“Tim? Are you in there?” You called out to him, coming to stand at the foot of his bed staring at the bathroom door, “Tim?” You spoke his name with more urgency and concern as he didn’t answer you.

Instead of a verbal response, he quickly yanked the door open and stuck his head out to see you flinch at the sudden action and retreat your hands to your chest to soothe your spooked heart. His blues eyes were wide with surprise at seeing you, well rather the blur of your figure, in his room. He opened the bathroom door all the way and slowly crept out wearing that gentle smile that you’ve always loved.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” He spoke softly, looking at you up and down as he approached you, “I didn’t hear you come in. Is there something wrong?” He asked you while he took a hold of your hands and gave the a light squeeze.

“Nothing’s a matter with me, is there something wrong with you?” You let him know that you noted the messy room that you two were standing in, “Bruce sent me up here to check on you cause you never came down.”

Tim let out a tired sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the imaginary weight that rested there. Your gaze was growing more tense as you looked at him, waiting for him to tell you what was wrong. His gaze came to meet yours and in soft breaths he was mumbling about his situation. You told him to speak up while you inspected the mess of his room.

“I was just getting ready for Bruce’s charity event downstairs, it took me longer than expected to get ready, but I’m not sure if I want to go down there and make my presence known tonight.” His voice wavered throughout his whole time talking and it already set off your excuses alarm.

You walked around his room carefully, trying to not trip on any of the clothes that were laying all over the floor; his hamper was overflowing, but it looked like there was no effort to clean it. You lingered by his desk to see that he had open files on his computer that were being worked on recently. A open bottle of aspirin sat behind the monitor as if he was trying to hide it from prying eyes, or more specifically, your eyes. You continued to walk around his room, seeing the mess and coming to the conclusion that he was letting himself go again.

“Tim...your room...it’s a pigsty,” You gestured to the mess and looked at him in disbelief, “It wasn’t like this a couple days ago when I helped you clean it. What happened?”

Tim looked away and went to shut off the lights in the bathroom and closet, taking some time to think about his answer. “I know, I just… I got caught up with my patrol duties and school and with other things…”

“Well, you gotta take care of this soon, like tomorrow. If you want, I can see if I can stay in the guest room tonight and I’ll help you straighten it up tomorrow.” You suggested as you kicked some the the clothes to the side to form a path to walk in.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind the help...thanks.”

“Alright, now let's go join the party, I wanna get a dance in with you before they stop for the bidding.”

“Uh, yeah, I can’t go down there.”

“Why not?” You questioned him, placing your hands on your hips, “You look super handsome and I will have to say that I might be a little jealous if I have to share your presence with those other young girls down there.” You chuckled as you shoved his shoulder playfully.

“Thanks, I, uh, can say the say to you too, you do look stunning,” Tim struggled to take in your appearance, not admitting to you that he really couldn’t see you, “Red really is more your color than mine.”

Tim got silent for a few moments before answered your silent question of why he couldn’t go downstairs, “I ran out of contacts, okay? I don’t have any more, I threw out the ones I wore yesterday and I don’t have any in now.”

“So?” You shrugged your shoulders, “Just wear your glasses, it’ll be alright.”

“I—I can’t. Those are only for in the house purposes.” Tim threw his hands outwards in front of him, letting his anxiety slowly climb up the scale in his chest. “Plus, I don’t feel like bringing any attention to me for being different from the rest of my brothers.”

You sighed with a heavy heart in your chest as you remembered that Tim was always self-conscious of his glasses, so much that he rarely wore them, even inside the house. You let your eyes wander to his desk once again as you saw them just sitting there next to the keyboard with a slight layer of dust on them. You went to retrieve them and cleaned them as you talked with him.

“Oh, Tim, wearing glasses is nothing to be ashamed of. Almost everyone wears them,” You sent him a small and warm smile, “If you’re worried that they’ll bring attention to you, you’re wrong. Sure, some people might approach you to ask about when and how you got them, but they won’t stay long, they’re rich people they talk money, not personal matters.”

“I get that, but I just can’t wear them down there, especially in front of my family.” Tim walked around the room with his hands out in front of him, “You know that they like to make fun of me because I’m the only one that wears them. Jason is the worse out of all of them; always calling me a true geek and a nerd....”

Tim was working himself up and you knew that you needed to stop him before you lose all hope of bringing him downstairs. The moment he passed you, you quickly latched onto his arm and walked him over to his bed and ordered him to sit down. Sitting beside him, you fiddled with his glasses while you both let the silence of the room cool things down.

“Look, don’t pay them no mind when they make those comments. They make them out of pure fun and don’t mean to hurt your feelings; they told me themselves. They appreciate your role during the patrols and investigations and they love you and are glad you’re a part of the family. Jason pokes fun at you the most just because he really respects you; sure there might still be some tense moments after his resurrection, but he’s there for you no matter what.”

Tim just sat next to you in silence, taking in your every word. He fiddled with his calloused fingers while you had placed a gentle hand on his upper back, comforting him. He knew that you were only doing your very best to cheer him up and make him feel better about himself, and he deeply appreciated that. That was what he loved most about you; you were always making an effort to cheer someone up and give them confidence. Your kind words were no doubt sincere and he was being to not feel the anxiety of being different for just one night.

“Thanks for those words, really,” Tim turned to you and gave you a deep and meaningful look, “you really know how to cheer people up, don’t you?” Tim reached for your free hand and gave it a firm squeeze before looking down at his black frames sitting in your lap.

You followed his wear gaze and gave him a kind smile, “It’s only for one night, that’s all,” with slight hesitation, thinking about if he was actually ready to put on his glasses, you unfolded them and slowly brought them to his face and slid them on, pushing them all the way up to the bridge of his nose, “After the ball, you can come right back up here and choose to roam around blind for the rest of the night for all I care, as long as you’re happy.”

Tim chuckled at the last bit as he blinked with wide eyes as his vision became more clearer. He stared at your face and was taken back a bit by how beautiful you truly looked and felt a tiny bit guilty for guessing on how you looked earlier; he didn’t feel that bad though, because he already knew you would look beautiful cause in his eyes, you always were. His ocean blue eyes looked all around his messy room and agreed that it definitely needed to be cleaned.

“You really do look stunning, by the way, like more than usual,” Tim stood seated while you rose from the bed and turned around to look at him as he smiled at you, “If anyone is to be jealous tonight, I think it’ll be me. I’m sorry that I left you alone for so long down there by yourself.”

You threw your head back in laughter as you face tinted a light shade of red. Tim laughed with you as you took his hands in yours and swung them lightly in the space between you two, “You can make up the lost time by coming back down there with me and giving me that dance that you had promised me a while back.”

Tim slowly nodded his head as he rose from the plush mattress and stood by your side giving in to your desires. “Alright, alright. Let’s go down there.”

“Tim, thank you for coming to your senses,” ou spoke honest words as you moved in closer to him, looking up at him with your doe eyes, “I’m glad that you overcame your silly glasses fear. To be completely honest with you, I prefer you with your glasses rather than without them, I find you more handsome.”

Tim chuckled before bending down to place his lips on yours. You two stood there for a few moments, kissing while listening to the muffled classical music creep in through the thin walls. It was magical and you couldn’t ask it to be any more perfect. When you two split apart, you patted his chest before interlacing your and with his and leading him out of his room and down to the ball below where everyone watched you descend the stairs with grace and beauty.

When the ball had ended, you both took no time making it back to his room to get out of your formal attire and retiring into the cool sheets after a night filled with dancing. The rest of your night was filled with cuddling and watching t.v. with Tim; after your comment of calling him handsome with the glasses, he kept them on the whole night, not once taking them off. You were glad that you two had found your footing once again and that was all you could ever ask for.

[chibinightowl]

Down the Rabbit Hole

You’re all probably sick of me after my drabble posts last night and this morning, but before I crash, it is finally time to unveil the wonderfully talented and amazing @tanekore‘s birthday gift! Here’s chapter one of Jason and his adventures in Wonderland.

~*~

“Get down!” 

Tim’s warning comes too late and Jason finds himself with a face full of Scarecrow’s newest fear gas, right along with the mook he punches hard in the face.

Shit. Not good. Jason tries to hold his breath for as long as he can while trying to escape the noxious fumes but the maze that is the floor of this warehouse has him turned around in no time. What a night to be caught without his hood.

At least the asshat he was fighting has the luxury of being unconscious on the floor at his feet. Are there more? Jason can’t remember if there were. He should know and he doesn’t. Fuck. A cowled figure lands almost soundlessly next to him, mouth covered in a gas-mask. It takes all of Jason’s self-control not to lash out at Tim’s freaky looking form. Someone came prepared tonight. “Hood, you okay?” He sucks in a deep breath and shudders as his lungs burn. A wracking cough hits him like a sledgehammer and he crashes to his knees, relearning how to breathe. His vision wavers but he tries hard to focus on Tim. Tim, who means so much to him and loves him in spite of all the shit he’s put him through. “Jay?”

Jason coughs again. He can hear the wheeze in his breathe as he struggles for air. “Diff-rent,” he manages to choke out. “Yeah, that’s obvious. Just concentrate on breathing. Any hallucinations yet?” Tim presses two fingers against Jason’s throat, checking his already racing pulse. “The Scarecrow’s fear formula changes often so it’s hard to come up with a multipurpose antitoxin.” It’s a fact Jason knows all too well.

He shakes his head in response to Tim’s question. Not yet. They both know they’re coming though. The fear gas can sometimes take time to break down into a person’s psyche and draw out what they fear most. He has a feeling one of those fears has changed since the last time he was gassed. Before, he didn’t have Tim to be scared for.

“Just...get...me...outta...here,” he gasps, each word punctuated by a cough. This is different too. Normally it’s a quick inhalation, a few coughs and a sneeze and wham the shit’s in your system. Tim is already moving, dragging one of Jason’s arms over his shoulder and trying to get him to his feet. “Got to help me out here, Hood. I’ll fireman’s carry your ass if I have to, but I don’t what to hear you bitch about the bruises because it won’t be pretty.” Jason tries to laugh but it comes out as another harsh wheeze. “Love...you...Red.” “I love you too, Hood. Let’s get you out of here. A’s already called the car for us.” Tim staggers a bit under Jason’s weight. Jason isn’t much help, but he manages to get his legs in the right position to walk slowly. His breathing regulates a bit as they get further away from the center of the maze and he’s able to manage full sentences again. “What happened back there? I didn’t even see Crane.” Tim growls, frustration evident in his voice. “He wasn’t there. There was a remote trigger on those cases closest to you. Must have had a motion sensor involved. I didn’t see it until too late. I’m so sorry, Hood.” If there’s one thing Tim excels at, it’s self-flagellation. All the Bats do, actually, himself included. “Not your fault,” Jason says with another cough. He’s starting to feel better, which is strange. Still, he’ll take it, since this means he can take some of his weight off Tim. They keep walking. It feels like an eternity since he was gassed but it can’t have been more than a handful of minutes. The silence between him and Tim is stifling. It’s not normally this way. Jason likes their shared silences, whether it’s at home and they’re both trying to stretch out on their overstuffed sofa and failing miserably or on patrol and they’re using hand signals to try and boss each other around or make fun of Dick.

This is a bad quiet. Jason can feel the hair on his neck prickle as he feels unseen eyes on him. On them. Whether it’s paranoia or the fear gas kicking in, he’s unable to tell but he knows one thing for certain. It’s taking them too long to get out of this warehouse maze. They’re targets. Sitting ducks, even as Tim takes a left and Jason catches a whiff of fresh air. It makes him cough again. Dammit. “Red, we gotta get out of here,” Jason manages to murmur. “I know. We’re almost there. Hang on a little bit longer.” Tim takes right and they’re suddenly in a wide open space looking out over the covered pier and the expanse of Gotham Harbor. Jason’s confused. This isn’t the street and the safety of the Batmobile. “What did A send? The boat?” “He sent the car. I told you that already.” Tim sounds like he’s lecturing a child, his tone taking on an infinite amount of patience as though he’s repeated himself a few times now. For all Jason knows, he has. “Then why are we at the dock?” he asks, knowing he sounds petulant and not caring in the slightest. Tim gives him an obvious look of concern. “We’re not at the dock.” Jason shakes his head, trying to clear it. He knows he’s fucked up, but this is unreal. “Yes, we are. I can see the pier right there.” He even points at it. “The gas has to be messing with your head already,” Tim says. “We’re in the alley where the car is supposed to meet us.” Every sense Jason has is screaming at him in warning now. He rips his arm away from Tim and backs away cautiously. “We’re at the dock. I can smell the air, Red. I can feel the breeze.” “No, that’s the sewer grate you’re standing on. Smells like Killer Croc’s breath on a good day.” Tim holds up his hands and slowly approaches Jason. “The car’s ETA is three minutes. We’ll be able to hear it soon.” No. No, this can’t be right. Jason looks down and sees the wooden planks that still make up the structure of the older piers in Gotham. If he concentrates, he can hear the water below him, the small waves lapping against the pylons. He purposefully draws in a deep breath and tastes the salty sea breeze. Shit. Whatever this stuff is, he’s doped up good. Reality can’t get much more fucked up than this. A loud creak rises up from beneath his feet. “Jason, don’t move,” Tim says warningly. He rushes forward and stops at the edge of the dock (alley? sewer grate?), holding out his hand. “Here, take my hand. The grate’s not holding your weight.” The creaking sound grows louder, and Jason can feel the planking quake under his boots. But he doesn’t move, a sudden horrible thought occurring to him. “Are you Red Robin?” he asks shakily. “If I’m seeing and smelling the docks while you’re telling me we’re in the alley, the only consistent factor is you and me. I know I’m real, so who the hell are you?” Tim brushes back his cowl. Pale blue eyes beg him to believe and his voice is heavy with poorly concealed urgency. “My name is Tim Drake. You’re Jason Todd. We’ve been dating for 14 months and just recently moved in together, mostly because you got tired of hauling your shit between safehouses and said that your Shakespeare collection deserves a good home. Your words, not mine.” It sounds like something Jason would say. And he also remembers all of this. Who else would know their names and such a personal fact? But he still hears the sound of water beneath him, which he knows he wouldn’t hear if he were standing on a sewer grate. He’s stood on them thousands of times. He shakes his head slowly and takes another step back. The creaking sound grows more ominous.   “Jason!” Tim shouts and reaches for him. “Take my hand.” “Who are you?” Jason asks again, and this time draws his gun. “What did you do with Red Robin?” Tim blanches but holds his ground. “Please, Jason. Take my hand. The car just arrived. It’s behind me. Can’t you see it?” he pleads. All Jason sees is the side of the old wooden warehouse where it opens out onto the pier. “This is a trap.” “You’re high on fear gas, Jay. You know this.” That’s right. He was sprayed earlier. How could he have forgotten so soon? The eyes are back on him, on them, and Jason whirls around to face them. “Come out and fight, you pieces of shit!” The movement is too much for the weak wood beneath his feet and it finally cracks, sending Jason plummeting into the darkness below. “Jason!” he hears Tim shout. The sound is swallowed by the pitch-black tunnel he finds himself in. Looks like Tim was right after all and he really was standing on a sewer grate. Okay, strike one against him. At least he has the excuse of being fucked up in the head at the moment. Although Damian will argue he always is, so what else is new. Jason waits to hit the ground, the sewer channel, something. But he just keeps falling. It’s not even very fast either. In fact, it seems slower than most falls he’s taken. Hazard of the job, although Dick is the one who will throw himself into a free fall first and then shoot out his line just for the sensation of flight. He’s strange like that, or so Jason thought when they first met. Dick was in his weird glam rock meets disco phase and his uniform reflected his tastes. It didn’t stop him from teaching Jason how to fly on the trapeze, the one thing Dick taught him rather than Bruce. No one moves through the air quite like Dick. A case can be made for Kori though. But she’s a natural flier and just as comfortable in the air as she is on the ground. Not even Clark manages to fly like she does, simply for the sheer enjoyment of it. Okay, why hasn’t he hit the ground yet? Jason tries to peer into the darkness below him, but he’s still falling feet first into oblivion. Or is he? Can he even be certain he’s falling because, hello, fear gas? He doubts his boyfriend is even his boyfriend and wow, is he going to get the lecture when whatever wormhole he’s fallen into spits him out. This is by far the strangest concoction Scarecrow has ever come up with. Jason doesn’t feel afraid. If anything, he’s a bit anxious, but who wouldn’t be when they’ve been falling for several minutes and haven’t hit the bottom? He realizes he’s still holding his gun and holsters it. Shit, he pulled a gun on Tim. Jason sighs and shakes his head. He’s got some apologizing to do, even though he knows Tim will tell he doesn’t need to. They’ve all done and said things while out of their minds from the various toxins and poisons, let alone spores from Poison Ivy, that they’ve been exposed to. Hazards of the job. He wonders if the fear gas is making the fall seem slower than it normally would be. Jason tries to stay alert, but the darkness is warm and kind of comforting, as long as he keeps moving. The faint rush of air flowing past him keeps it from becoming reminders of his grave. He must have dozed off briefly because when he next opens his eyes (where they even closed?), the faint outline of shelves and cupboards appear before him. Now he really knows he’s high because he’s falling so slowly he can reach out and move things from the shelves if he wants to. So much for terminal velocity and the laws of physics. What goes up, must come down. His crash, both literally and mentally, is going to be spectacular. The light slowly grows brighter as he falls. Just because he can, Jason reaches out and grabs a book from a shelf. May as well keep himself amused if this is going to take much longer. Of course, he grabs a recipe book. He heaves a massive sigh and forces himself to read it anyway. Alfred would be proud of him and who knows, perhaps he’ll find something new to make for him and Tim. The book is surprisingly detailed and full of recipes for different desserts Jason’s never even heard of before. He’s so engrossed in it that he doesn’t realize the ground is approaching until his ass hits it with a jarring thud. “Motherfucker,” Jason swears, rising to his feet and rubbing his tailbone. He shoves the book into the inner pocket of his jacket and looks around. He’s in some kind of long, tiled hallway, lined with doors on either side. Glancing behind him, he spots a stone wall. Well, at least the way forward is clear. Still, because he is the paranoid sort (it’s not paranoia when they really are out to get you he remembers Tim saying), he readies a gun as a precaution. Something about this whole situation is tickling his memory, but try as he might, nothing comes to mind. Jason walks forward, testing each door as he comes upon it and confirms they’re all locked, at least from his side. His lockpicks will come in handy if he’s shit out of luck with the rest of them. He’s passed over a dozen doors when he hears the slam of one opening up ahead. Jason instantly tucks himself against the closest door jamb, trying to make himself a smaller target for whatever is approaching him. The sound of heeled shoes upon the floor tiles echo strangely. “Oh, my ears and whiskers, I’m late. Heads are gonna roll and they sure as shit better not be mine.” The voice is feminine but that’s not what has Jason locking up in surprise. It’s the sight of Stephanie stalking towards him in a bunny costume that wouldn’t look out of place on Dinah Lance, the Black Canary. She’s got a leather jacket to go with it, even if her costume is all white rather than the black he’s used to. For that matter, Steph’s taking the whole costume thing a little too seriously as she’s even wearing a headband with bunny ears on them. Floppy bunny ears that are falling into her face as she storms down the hall. “What the shit, Blondie?” Jason says, stepping away from his meager shelter. “How’d you get down here? For that matter, how the fuck do I leave? Tim is gonna kill me.” The woman shrieks at him and throws a fan at his head. Her bunny ears twitch violently. “I’m already late, you dumbass! Don’t make it worse!” With that, she takes off down the hall, running past him with surprising grace in those spiked heels of hers. He can’t help but notice there’s a poufy little cottonball of a tail on her ass. “I think you’re taking the whole Playboy bunny thing a little too literally!” he shouts after her. The sound of another door slamming closed is his only reply. “Well, shit.” Jason runs a hand through his hair and looks around again. The hall doesn’t look any different than before but that niggling memory that this is all familiar is driving him up the wall. It’s like he’s fallen down the rabbit hole... Back the fuck up. Jason stalks back down the hall to where he first arrived after the long ass fall and sure enough, there’s a curtain hanging from what had been an empty wall before. A small glass table with a gold key sitting upon it are off to the left. He brushes the curtain aside and there’s a small door that he’d be lucky to get a foot through. Looking back at the table, there’s a little bottle on it now, next to the key. He knows where he is now. Or rather, he knows where he’s about to be soon if he can just get the door open. “Son of a bitch. This is either going to be the worst or best trip ever.” Jason has seen a lot of strange shit in his life but he’s willing to bet a bottle of Bruce’s best bourbon and say this ranks right up there at the top. Wonderland. Or would that be Underland if he goes by the movie? Either way, Blondie has to be the White Rabbit. The outfit is definitely an improvement. Who else is going to appear in his hallucination? Because seriously, what else could it be? Jason’s starting to doubt now if he ever even fell. Dosed by fear gas? Emphatic yes. Rescued by Tim? Probably. That’s a little blurry now. “Maybe I didn’t pull a gun on him after all,” Jason mutters as he eyes the door and the bottle. As far as he can tell, this is his only way out because he’s sure as hell not going to grow into a giant and cry like a baby before shrinking down and floating away on a sea of tears. Still, best to be prepared. He places the bottle and key in a pocket and keeps a firm hold on them both while he stalks back up the hall to where the fan White Rabbit Stephanie threw at him lies on the floor. He collects it and returns to the small door. The key he places squarely on the floor in front of the door. None of this leaving it on the table bullshit. Jason takes the bottle out of his pocket and reads the elegant script. Drink me Right. He’d better keep all his clothes when he shrinks down because otherwise, he’s gonna sit his ass right here until he wakes up on his own or Bruce finds the right formula to create an antitoxin. Considering how much time he feels like has passed, Tim is probably right there with him. Jason eyes the bottle again, pops the cork, and drinks it in one long swig.

[iphoenixrising]

I said I was kind of going on a hiatus. Too many things in my brain pan, but I connected with such a wonderful person, @careamorran, and had to write a thing based on a spectacular piece of art :D The post is here, and I really just wanted a little fun and maybe a little angst ;)

**

The blast of sunlight in his eyes is the conscious train rolling down the track. You know, right at his face.

After his syrupy thoughts evaluated the stabbing to his eyes as something non-lethal, the need to throw something sharp and vaguely bat-shaped at the defenseless windows fades enough that he can squint at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

Dammit.

He and Jay have plans for the day. Partially because it’s been two years today, and since Jason Todd is actually a sentimental cinnamon roll underneath the intense murder you vibe, Tim had managed to wrangle his reluctant significant other into finally getting the new ident set-up. It’s been a long time coming, and they’ve been arguing on and off about seeing to the details for weeks.

(“Things like a driver’s license, Jay.”)

(A careless shrug with a mouth full of meatball sub, “I drive, Timmers. I drive all the time.”)

(“Legally. The key here is legally.”)

His boyfriend had finally caved for their anniversary, and Tim would be damned if they missed the opportunity because of a long night in Gotham’s seedy underworld.

(Black Mask? Totally an ass hat, and no, he gives no shits about ruining the guy’s night. Seriously, fuck him. Mask literally hit on the Red Hood, right in front of him.)

With a soft groan of the newly conscious, Tim sits up, still wavery, and in desperate need of caffeine.

Desperate. Need.

The yawn is jaw-cracking, and he’s already reaching over for the lump of still-snoozing, just a tuft of dark hair peeking out from under their fluffy comforter in Jay’s room at the Manor.

If he grins a little, thinking someone as bad ass as the Red Hood is incredibly cute, well, no one else would ever have to know.

“Jay,” his voice still husky is bordering on fond, “we should get up, it’s late.”

He’s expected the inevitable, “where’s m’ good morning kiss, Timmy?” and to be pulled back down because Jay is really just as bad as Dick when it comes to pre-consciousness cuddling.

The hand moving fast to grab his wrist, to stop him from making contact isn’t necessarily unexpected because of reasons like ingrained instincts and Robin training. The occasional accidental injuries aren’t anything new. At times, it might be things like terrible nightmares or remnants of the Lazarus Pit. On the flip side, it might be residual panic because instead of Kon or Bart or Steph or Bruce, it’s Jason spitting out a mouth full of blood and gripping his harness with wide eyes and stuttering heart.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just--”

And whatever he’d been about to say in the usual soothing way dies in his throat when Jay turns, still in the t-shirt he’d thrown in before they’d fallen into bed last night, and--

Tim’s eyes go wide in shock and surprise.

Who the fuck is in bed with me!?

The set of jawline and ensuing frown is so painfully familiar--

From that time when Tim was a kid with a camera and Robin dove in out of the night to save him from a thug.

A Robin in his prime.

A Robin that’s fifteen instead of twenty-five.

Holy shit, Batman.

“Oh…” is about all his half-wired brain can muster.

Those eyes, the same ones from the painting in the main hall that used to be one of his safe places, the eyes without the green flecks, take stock, roving over Tim’s sleep-mussed hair, his face, his bare throat and chest, his too-big boxers.

And something seems to click.

“WHAAT THE FUUUCK?!!”

Is about as horrified as you can imagine.

The ensuing fight is really anticlimactic. Jason has aged-down equivalently, so while he can still duck, dodge, and fight better than any average person, he doesn’t have memories further than now meanwhile Tim hasn’t lost an ounce of his edge.

“You need to calm it down, Robin,” he tries while blocking a punch that is decidedly lower than what he’s used to. Yeah, throwing out that little bombshell is really a 50/50, but nothing else he can possibly say would help either:

*I’m your boyfriend, and you will be seriously pissed at yourself if you hurt me.

*I was the Robin after you, promise.  I only got pants because those green panties were a hard ‘no.’

*You haven’t tried killing me in a whole year. Can we stop trying to break the record?

As it turns out, maybe he should have because those eyes go wide and the fight takes on a more desperate turn.

Well, fuck.

He catches the knee before it takes out his jaw, his suddenly longer reach catching the much smaller fist in the palm of his hand. “That’s enough, Jay. You’re going to--” get yourself hurt.

But the younger is panting and red-face, gritting his teeth with narrowed eyes, and an obvious plan in the works when he realizes he’s not going to beat Tim.

“Who,” and the tone isn’t as low and growling as the Red Hood, but it still jars Tim right in all the places where he’s still mesmerized by the second Robin, “the fuck are you and how didja find out?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I’m going to let Bruce and Dick fill you in,” he replies, easing back slowly.

The teenager’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“How about this then: you hide books all over the Manor. Alfred found A Separate Peace, The Outsiders, 1984, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Once and Future King just to name a few.” He leaves the ones he’s found off the list just because the memories of his post-Robin life are apparently gone, and Tim is in no hurry to fill him in on the horrific events starting with the trip to Ethiopia.

Jason’s mouth falls open in a little ‘o’ of shock.

“One more just so you feel better about this: the first time B got hurt, seriously hurt, defending you, you called Dick at Titan’s Tower in New York.” His hands up in that not dangerous pose, he eases just slightly closer, tilting his head to actually look down. “It was that time with Killer Croc and you were freaked out.”

“How--” the teenager struggles, blinking at him with those blue, blue eyes, all of it without the Pit’s influence riding him.

With that realization, a horrible kind of plan hits Tim right in the brain pan.

“I know you’re Robin, so there’s some evidence, Mister Junior Detective.”

Jay gives him a huffing sneer, “real wise ass, ain’t cha?”

“Learned from the best,” he deadpans with a sad half-smile and fond eyes, “So, I vote we go downstairs, find Alfred so I can have some coffee, and then Bruce so he can have a holy shit moment of his own.”

Still staring at him, still calculating the risks and possible nefarious plots afoot, Jason only follows because he’s planning the best way to take this guy he’d woken up with down (and maybe staring down at his ass) while they went down the grand staircase.

Luckily, as it happens to go in Wayne Manor, at least someone has the patience to deal with things like utter fuckery.

That person will always be Alfred Pennyworth.

“Good morning Master--”

If Tim wasn’t as light and fast on his feet, there would be a whole lot of smashed ceramic all over the floor.

“My-my word, Master...Master Jason?”

“Mornin’ Alf,” the teenager waves a little, grinning sheepishly. “Found Slick here runnin’ the halls, so’s I thought maybe ya know who he is.”

(Slick? Tim arches a brow at that because really)

Alfred blatantly looks over, immediately getting back his usual calm, cool, and collected. “I do hope the scuffle I heard upstairs did not result in any bloodshed on the Turkish carpets, Master Tim.”

“I’m hurt at your complete lack of faith in my kick-ass skills, Alfred,” he waves a hand on his way to the sideboard where wonderful things (like coffee, please, please, please give him coffee to be able to deal with this and what he should very much not tell Jason) waited. He pauses to get his thoughts together, makes a mental Venn Diagram of the potential backlash of both scenarios, and adds cream with a little sugar so he doesn’t down the first mug liked boiling lava.

“I’m Tim Drake. Nice to meet you, by the way. It’s much nicer when we’re not trying to kill each other,” and yeah, that’s Alfred clearing his throat just a little. “I’m also a vigilante, so of course I’ve heard of Robin,” luckily, the way to trip up Jason’s radar is to tell the lie with just enough truth mixed in, “and I do work with Batman sometimes on out-of-town cases. I also do data collection and reconnaissance for the Titans, who I’m sure you’ve at least met at this juncture.” First few desperate sips accomplished, he moves to take a spot at the table and wait until Jason warily joins him, scrappy and scrawny, eyes that take in everything.

And he moves lighter on his feet, without a hell of a lot of burdens and probably a mass of missing scars from things like crowbars and insane psychopaths that deal in megalomaniacal delusions of grandeur. It’s a Jason Tim’s only known with a mask, and it’s a rough moment to stop himself from reaching out across the table to grip those twitchy fingers, but all he can do is swallow his heart back down in the vicinity of his chest, glance at Alfred with a little Batanese using just his eyebrows.

Without giving the his younger boyfriend an opportunity to ask, he cuts in with, “occasionally, B lets me stay over when a case gets...rough. It was last night anyway. I’m sorry I surprised you, but I’d been awake for about seventy-odd hours by then, so I was pretty compromised.”

Pretty much all true.

During the distraction, Alfred turns to busy himself at the sideboard. A glow in Tim’s peripheral is probably the butler texting the fam. B, Come downstairs immediately; Damian, please do not yet come downstairs. I shall bring breakfast up straight away. Dick, your presence would be appreciated at the Manor. It seems we have a situation. To make it a little more obvious he’s being serious, Alfred completely takes advantage of a displaced Jason, too busy staring Tim down from across the table, to snap a discreet picture to follow-up all those texts.

A fresh glass of juice and a side cup of coffee makes some of the tension ease from Jay’s shoulders, “sounds pretty stupid, you feel me? First rule of being a cape: take care a’ yerself. What we got against these crazy assholes? At the end of the day, it’s yer fists and yer brains, so ya gotta make sure ya got enough in ya ta take the beating.”

And it’s a fifteen-year-old Jason pointing a finger at him around his juice and all mock-serious, which it totally why he starts laughing without snorting coffee up his nose. Points for him.

“You are terrible at mocking B in lecture-mode. Terrible,” he shakes his head a little once he’s sure he isn’t going to choke, “more practice, okay? You’ll totally get there, but don’t think you’re ever beating out Dick. He is the official runner-up in the Best Dad Lecture category.”

A heartbeat and Jason starts to crack a grin, laughing out loud in that younger voice, the blue of his eyes without the Pit lingering, without the grim realizations of the day he’s going to die (again). He’s so heartbreakingly innocent of it all (and Tim just wonders how Bruce is going to take this because things like tears and BatDad are going to go down soon--he can feel it).

So by the time Alfred emerges from the kitchen with warm eggs and fluffy waffles, the tension has eased down between the former Robins by the way they throw stories back and forth.

“Yer kiddin’ me,” Jason deadpans back.

“All true, I swear. Freeze and Ivy watched him bust his bat ass--”

“Y’know, there was one time he fell through a crappy roof right inta a ladies’ shower, right?”

“I’m sorry what now?”

“That ain’t what she was thinking, Timmy. Just takin’ a shower and boom, there’s the Bat admiring the decor an’ shit.”

The mental image is enough to get him started all over again, laughing while huddled over his precious, beautiful coffee and lost staring at the fucking beautiful sight of his younger, unburdened significant other. Even better, more evidence in favor of the formulating plan clicks into place with Jason’s easy laugh and wild gestures. But it all comes down to basic facts: fifteen or twenty-five, this is the crazy idiot he loves. And if this is a golden opportunity to give the guy a second chance, one without the Joker and ticking bombs, without being buried alive, and thrown in the Lazarus Pit, it might well be worth the effort.

[outoftheframework]

That time Tim Drake gave a speech but it was all memes

okay this is late but based off this post by @askagothamite

if you’ve never played, “what are the odds” is like truth or dare, but someone says “What are the odds you’ll do this” and then depending on how much you’re willing to do it you give them the odds, ex. 1 out of 25. Then on the count of three you both say a number between 1 and 25 and if it’s the same number you have to do the thing. so saying the odds and 1 out of 2 is like a fifty-fifty chance. i’ll stop rambling now.

-

Bruce sighs deeply as he removes his cowl, almost sticking to his face from all the leftover grime of the latest Justice League mission. His muscles are stiff and sore, but he is unwilling to admit to himself that he had a little trouble keeping up with Dinah earlier in the day. Deep in thought about just when she got so damn fast, he vaguely picks up the sound of a local news channel echoing through the corridors of the cave. One of the boys must have left it on, for the rest of those who frequent the space have respect for conserving energy.

He trudges out of the garage and towards the TV screens, feeling quite at home after spending a day in sunny Metropolis. Bruce expects at least a couple of the kids to be hanging around, as they tend to do, but he finds himself alone. He allows himself to enjoy the feeling of bliss. The man settles down in his chair, ready to enter some new files, as he listens in on the TV playing above him.

“-The Gotham Knights beating the Metropolis Meteors by four runs this afternoon. . .” Bruce snickers as he realizes Clark will be writing that story up for tomorrow. It’s the little things. But the news lady drones on, this time with more inflection, “But the main story tonight is of course Timothy Drake-Wayne, former acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Bruce Wayne’s adopted son, announcing a very surprise press conference. . .”

Batman feels any ounce of what was once tranquility leave his body. He knows Tim is a smart kid. A really smart kid. But he also knows his drive. The way he will see anything to its end. And recently, things with the kids have been a little tense. He gives up any hope of filing, all his attention is solely on what might come out of his son’s mouth.

Bruce watches as the teenager walks on stage, dressed smartly and with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Tim catches the camera and gives it a long stare with a smug smile, one that boldly says nothing but “I win.” The older man sinks into his chair, regretting ever coming home. The kids have been insufferable lately, even more than usual. It all started when Duke showed them a game he used to play as a kid. “What Are The Odds?”

He cringes everytime he hears the phrase, because he knows it will definitely be followed by an act of public stupidity. Now their version of “Truth or Dare?”, it started out innocently enough. A fun way to get them through slow nights of patrol or Wayne Galas that never seem to end. But, “What are the odds you’ll knock-knock ditch that house?” quickly devolved into “What are the odds you’ll swing all the way back to the manor in nothing but your domino mask?”

Bruce knows his kids, and he knows that none of them are very great at losing. It is in their nature to take a fun children’s game and twist it into a cut-throat competition, with most of the bets going at 1 out of 2 odds, almost guaranteeing the crazy dares with how in-sync all of them are.  

He can only imagine what this one might be.

Tim moseys up to the microphone stand, with a certain swagger about him. Bruce can say a lot about his kids, but none of them lack confidence when they need it. He watches as Tim tries to grab the microphone, and struggles as he can’t get it out. Suddenly, it slides out of the holder and careens towards him, clocking the former robin in the nose and making a hideous screeching noise as it bounces on the stage.

Bruce slowly lowers his head into his hands, rubbing his aching temples. He sees right through Tim’s theater acting routine, but his audience seems to have bought it.

Except for a few concerned gasps, the mass crowd of media personnel that had quickly gathered minutes before this impromptu meeting was dead silence as they watched the young man stumble around onstage.

Tim finally gathers his bearings, leaning down to acquire the forgotten microphone. As he straightens back up he mumbles something under his breath. But it was just clear enough to be unmistakeable.

“Thanks, Batman.”

Bruce pauses as every muscle in his body goes stiff. He knows what this is. He hates that he knows what this is.

Tim loudly clears his throat when upright again. He looks at a crumpled paper in his hand, but Bruce knows whatever he’s about to say he’s got memorized no doubt. The teen begins his speech with the utmost sincerity.

“Thank you all for joining me today on such short notice. But I believe this is a topic that needed to be addressed. I recently, and I’m sure you have too, have noticed an uptick of conversations surrounding a certain “conspiracy” on many internet chatrooms.”

Batman wonders what he did to deserve this.

“2,786. Not only is that the number of siblings I have, but it also happens to be the number of men, and women, compiled onto a very comprehensive list of possible masked crusaders.”

Tim clicks the remote in his hand, causing the powerpoint displayed behind him to advance. This slide displays the words “WHO IS THE BATMAN?” boldly typed in Comic Sans, surrounded by pictures of various celebrities, politicians, prominent members of society, and some random stock images. Each and every one of them has a black mask sloppily drawn onto the tops of their faces, likely with MS Paint.

“And among this list is someone very dear to my heart.”

He advances the slideshow once more, and the title this time is “BRUCE WAYNE.” Below it is a picture of a man with dark hair, pale skin, a sharp business suit, and a drawn Batman mask, someone who happens to be most definitely not Bruce Wayne.

The camera pans to a familiar group of young people in the audience, ones fighting very hard to keep their straight faces. Bruce swears he even sees a tear roll down Dick’s cheek. He doesn’t care if most of them have moved out, they’re all grounded.

“Rumors like these are not victimless crimes. They are hurtful and damaging. Batman’s street cred takes a hit every time someone compares him to rich, sissy businessmen like us. If this trend continues at the rate it’s growing, the Batman will no longer be able to operate. Maybe he’ll just become a supervillain. None of them are really that frightening.”

Bruce’s phone is ringing but he does not want to talk to Lucius at the moment. He’ll deal with the PR disaster tomorrow.

“Like seriously, I heard Batman once played Russian Roulette with a loaded gun and won. Bruce stubbed his toe the other day and cried for like three hours.”

Bruce would get him back for that one next time he sees the Teen Titans. He just needs to decide which embarassing secret to tell.

“In conclusion, Bruce Wayne is not Batman. I sort of wish he was, but he’s not. Who we really should be looking into is Keanu Reeves.”

Tim takes a deep breath and brings the microphone close.

“Because despite whatever proof you think you might have, the butts. don’t. match.”

[addicted-to-dc]

Batfamily X Reader- Sense Of Normality

I am so sorry for not posting anything!!! I know this took longer than usual, but I’m going to get back on schedule.  Enjoy!!!!

Warning: Swearing, attempted murder (the usual)

“How in the hell did this happen?” Jason asked, staring at the baby struggling in Bruce’s arms.  “Of course it had to be Demon Spawn, why couldn’t it have been Replacement?”

Tim scoffed, keeping his attention on the Batcomputer, “I was not turned into a toddler because Damian shoved me out of the way, bless his murderous heart for doing that.”

“Let me repeat Jay’s first question,” you said with an aggravated tone, “how in the hell did this happen?”

“Obviously Demon Spawn got zapped by this de-aging ray,” Tim responded, ignoring your tone.  “How would someone reverse aging?”

“I don’t care,” you gritted your teeth, “just turn my brother back to his normal self.”

“He does look cute, though,” Dick said from behind the three of you, now holding Damian.

You glared at Dick, “This is not the time to comment how ‘cute’ Damian is.  We need to find that idiot who messed with the wrong sister.”

“No killing,” Jason said in a deep voice, receiving  a Batdad glare from Bruce.

You turned over to Jason, “You’re the one who contacted me, telling me Damian’s condition, so if you’re uncomfortable with my methods, then you can go-”

“I kill people almost every night,” Jason interrupted you.  “I’m just saying Bruce’s inner voice.”

Rolling your eyes, you looked over to Bruce, “I understand that he is your son and you are teaching him your ways, but he is still my brother.  Whoever harms my brother harms me, so this is a personal affair.”

“Looks like we’re going on a man hunt!” Dick exclaimed excitedly, scaring the dozing Damian.  “Oh, sorry, Dami.”

“Clearly one of us has to stay,” Bruce stated, glancing at Damian, “to watch Damian.”

“Not it!” Jason shouted immediately, making a small smile appear on your face.

“I’m dealing with the pompous ass who is responsible for this,” you said, folding your arms and raising a brow.

Sighing, Tim slammed his head onto the computer, “I’ll do it, it’s the least I can do for Demon Spawn.”

“Okay then,” Dick said and walked over to Tim, handing Damian over to him.  “Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

“You would drop him the second he barfed on you,” Tim rolled his eyes and turned his chair around, typing with one hand and holding onto Damian with the other, “and you know it’s true.”

You rolled your eyes, “Let’s go before the manhunt ends before we even start it, and yes, knowing Grayson, he would drop Damian.”

“Hey!” Dick shouted, an offended look appearing on his face.

Bruce sighed, “We will partner up and search for the person who did this, Tim, do you know who is responsible for this?”

“Yup,” Tim responded, typing as fast as he could with one hand.  “Here he is.”

A photo of the man appeared on the enormous screen, revealing his features.  The man, Abel, was a scientist that had worked for LexCorp until he was fired for unknown reasons.  Scoffing, you walked over to the weapons wall and grabbed one of Damian’s extra katanas.  You examined the blade before sheathing it, walking towards your motorcycle.

“Todd, you’re with me,” you stated.  “I tolerate you the most.”

“You know you love me,” Jason flirted and jogged over to his bike, placing his red helmet on before starting the motorcycle.

“Maybe I will if you help me gut the man who did this,” you said, speeding out of the Cave.

“Challenge accepted.”

-----------------------------------------------

“Please,” the man said, backing away from you until his back met with a wall, “have mercy.”

“Tell me how to reverse what you did to Robin,” Jason said, twirling his gun, “and then I’ll show some mercy.”

“It’ll reverse itself!” the man shouted.  “If he isn’t repeatedly exposed to the ray, then he’ll revert back to his normal age in a day!!”

“Good to know,” Jason commented, walking away from the man and over to you.  “He’s all yours.”

You smirked and walked over to the man, unsheathing Damian’s katana.  The man’s eyes widened and looked over to Jason, who was whistling and looking around the abandoned building they were at.

“You said you would show mercy!!” the man shouted, “I told you the truth!!”

“He said that he would show mercy,” you stated, crouching down to his level, “but he didn’t say anything about me.”

“(Y/S/N), step away from him now,” Bruce ordered from behind you, making you roll your eyes.  “That’s an order.”

Sighing, you stood up and walked away, glaring at Bruce, “He deserves much worse than you have in mind for him.”

“Return to the Cave,” he told Jason and walked away, handcuffing the now shaking man.  “Make sure that Robin is okay.”

“You got it, Party Pooper,” Jason saluted and wrapped an arm around your waist, grappling out of a large broken window.

“I could have done that myself,” you said, your arms wrapped around his neck.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?” Jason smiled, letting go of your waist after he landed in the alleyway.

“A competent one,” you retorted, climbing onto your motorcycle.  “Let’s go, I need to check if Drake has dropped my brother on his head.”

---------------------------------

When you returned to the cave, you were surprised to see a slightly larger Damian running around while Tim was chasing him.  Raising a brow, you looked over to Jason, who also had a surprised look on his face.  Tim was Damian’s least favorite brother, but now that he was younger, he apparently loved him the most.  You haven’t seen Damian with that carefree smile in years, and it was good to see it again.

“I see he’s still alive,” you said to Tim, who froze immediately.

“He wanted to play tag,” Tim muttered, scratching the back of his neck.  

“(Y/N/N)!” Damian squealed, butchering your name. “Hello, little brother,” you greeted Damian, lifting him up from the ground.  “How was your time with Drake?”

���Fun!” he shouted, squeezing his little arms around your neck.

“Okay,” you wheezed, “can you let go of my neck?”

“Okay,” he said and released your neck, looking over to Jason.

“J-jay!” he said and made grabby hands. “Up!”

“Come here, buddy,” Jason chuckled lightly.  “You’re kinda cute when you’re not scowling and trying to kill people all the time.”

Damian giggled and grabbed Jason’s white streak, wiggling his fingers through it.  

“Okay, Squirt, let’s get you upstairs,” Jason said and shifted Damian so he would be on his back, “and maybe we’ll beat your sister to Alfred’s cookies!”

Giving you a wink, Jason ran to the elevator with Damian squealing behind him.  You chuckled and ran after them, knowing that this is an opportunity to provide Damian some sense of normality.

[torontotravelblog]

Toronto Travel Prep Guide

Toronto, Canada can sometimes get confused with just another city, as it’s neither the capital nor the cultural favorite like Montreal. However, there’s so much more to it than skyscrapers! The neighborhoods like Kensington Market, Distillery District, Queen Street West, and Chinatown offer so many chances for exploration. The yearly Toronto International Film Festival is one of the city’s most popular events. Shops, ethnic eats, and street art all make Toronto a great destination for all types of travelers.

If we’ve left anything out or you’d like to join the conversation, please leave comments below!

Toronto Travel Expenses Tips

Toronto is a reasonably priced destination for travelers, especially when compared with other North American cities like New York or Miami. As long as you know how to cut corners, you’ll be able to get plenty of bang for your buck in Canada.

Enjoy the free attractions. You don’t have to spend a fortune to appreciate Toronto. For example, the street art that covers the city is completely free, as are the parks! Tour Guys offers a number of free tours of the city. The Art Gallery of Ontario has free admission on Wednesdays from 6:30 to 8:30 pm. The Bata Shoe Museum offers “pay what you like” admission on Thursdays from at 5 pm. The Scarborough Historical Museum also offers the same system every day.

Exploring Graffiti Alley in Toronto, Twirl the Globe

The Big List of Free Things to Do in Toronto, Frugal Mom Eh

Skip cabs and cars. Leave the car behind because you won’t need it unless you’re venturing out further. Public transportation is easy to use, including the metro, buses, and trams. If you’re trying to go even cheaper, there’s bike rentals. Toronto is also extremely walkable and doesn’t have too many hills. I had no trouble walking from the bus station to my hostel.

How to Get Around Toronto with Subway and Streetcars, For Two, Please

Stay in one of the neighborhoods. The advantages of staying outside of the Central Business District are many. Not only will you save some loonies, but you’ll also get to experience Toronto like a local. I recommend the Kensington Market area.

Exploring Toronto’s Kensington Market Neighbourhood: A Travel Guide, Brittany Thiessen

Essential Gear to Pack for Toronto

Pack for Toronto like you would just about any other big city. It certainly depends on the season, but summers are mild and winters can be extra chilly with snow. Learn how to pack light for cold weather travel.

Comfy shoes– If you plan on walking during most of your visit, which I recommend, be sure to bring comfortable walking shoes.

Light waterproof jacket– Not only is this good to have in case of a sudden rain storm, but it will also keep you from having to buy a cheap poncho at Niagara Falls!

Cash– Change over your money to use on public transportation. Cards are accepted just about everywhere else, but I didn’t have coins one night on the train and had to borrow.

What to Pack for Summer Activities in Eastern Canada, Tortuga Backpacks

Books to Read Before Visiting Toronto

There are a number of books set in the city of Toronto but not all reach national acclaim. But these are a good few to start with before your trip.

Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood– A controversial painter returns to her home city of Toronto for a retrospective of her work. While there, she remembers her childhood and friends. Grab a copy on Amazon.

Headhunter by Timothy Findley– A librarian is reading a book when a character jumps out of the page. She frantically searches the streets of Toronto in search of him before it’s too late. In the meantime, a number of children end up in institutes with the same disease. Grab a copy on Amazon.

The Killing Circle by Andrew Pyper– A failed novelist joins a writer’s group in hopes of finding inspiration. During this time, a serial killer is terrorizing Toronto. He listens to the tales of a fellow writer, which sound familiar to what’s going on in real life. Grab a copy on Amazon.

Consolation by Michael Redhill– Telling two stories at separate points in time in Toronto, a geology professor throws himself from a ferry and a young apothecary is struggling to make his life in a new country. Grab a copy on Amazon.

Lemon by Cordelia Strube– A high school girl named Lemon has a dysfunctional life and decides not to try and fit in any longer. Grab a copy on Amazon.

Movies to Watch Before Visiting Toronto

Fans of shows like Degrassi may know the skyline well, but the independent film scene is also thriving in Toronto.

Breakfast with Scot– Based on the novel of the same name, a gay retired hockey player lives with his sports lawyer partner in Toronto. Their lives are changed in when they take in his brother’s stepson. Grab a copy on Amazon.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World– Another film based on a popular series, Michael Cera stars as Scott, who must battle the ex-boyfriends of the girl he likes in honor to win her heart. Grab a copy on Amazon.

This Beautiful City– The lives of four Toronto residents collide one night when a woman jumps from her window in a suicide attempt and runs into a couple trying to recover from addiction. Grab a copy on Amazon.

The F Word/What If– The film had different names in some countries, but it starred Daniel Radcliffe. He stars as a medical school dropout who falls in love with his best friend, who happens to be with her live-in boyfriend. Grab a copy on Amazon.

Top Things to Do in Toronto

Toronto has the most attractions and museums of any Canadian city, so you certainly won’t get bored. If you plan on visiting a number of them, get a CityPass or other combination pass. And don’t forget about the outdoors as well!

CN Tower– The most imposing structure in the Toronto skyline, go to the top for the best views or even a walk along the edge!

Niagara Falls– While not in Toronto proper, this easy day trip showcases the beautiful waterfall that straddles the American and Canadian borders.

St. Lawrence Market– This food hall predates the current trend, offering butchers, bakeries, and much more.

Casa Loma– Once a private home, this castle is now a museum and event space where you can see how the other half lives.

Hockey Hall of Fame– Sports fans will appreciate a trip to the museum devoted to Canada’s favorite pastime.

Centre Island– The island across the harbor from downtown has its own theme park and petting zoo, open seasonally.

Art Gallery of Ontario– This art museum’s collection includes works from Africa, Oceania, Europe, and, of course, Canada.

Bata Shoe Museum– It seems like an odd choice for a museum, but this one has four galleries of footwear ranging from ancient China to the modern day.

Royal Ontario Museum– Memorable exhibits at this museum include Chihuly glass, dinosaur fossils, and Egyptian mummies.

Tours– There’s a tour for every interest including street art, beer, history, and even pork. I recommend Urban Adventures and Tour Guys. Or search on Viator.

Caroline in the City Guide to Toronto, Caroline in the City

The Travelettes Guide to Toronto, Travelettes

Things to Do in Toronto, Canada, Y Travel Blog

Where to Stay in Toronto

There’s an accommodations option for every price range, starting from the hostels and going up to luxury hotels.

Planet Traveler is a luxurious hostel with a rooftop patio, full kitchen, and computers for you to use.

The Drake Hotel is a chic boutique hotel in the heart of the hip Queen Street West district.

Thompson Toronto is a luxury hotel with the best rooftop pool in the city.

The Ivy at Verity is a boutique property with unique rooms, each different from the next.

AirBnB is another option, which is ideal for a more local experience and additional space.

What Not to Do in Toronto, Conde Nast Traveler

Food and Drink in Toronto

You may not think of Canada when it comes to well-known dishes, but you will certainly eat well in Toronto.

Poutine– Ah yes, a Canadian classic. The hand cut fries are topped in brown gravy and cheese curds and can be found all around town. Some varieties are standard while others are topped with pulled pork and other offbeat toppings.

Craft beer– Toronto has a surprising number of craft and local breweries like Steam Whistle, Left Field, and Granite breweries.

Caesar– Don’t call it a Bloody Mary! This Northern interpretation uses Clamato juice instead of tomato juice.

Butter tart– These tarts are totally decadent with butter and sugar in a pastry crust.

Anything at Tim Horton’s– You can’t go to Canada without stopping by this quintessential coffee shop for a cup and a doughnut.

My 10 Must Eats in Toronto, This Beautiful Day

Toronto: Where to Eat, Round the World Girl

The post “ Toronto Travel Prep Guide “ was appeared first on HER Packing List

IV Vitamin Drip Therapy Toronto Clinic - The IV Lounge

[sweetwriting]

Tim Drake Week 2017 - Day 5 : Injury / Healing

Category : Gen

Genre : Angst / Family

Fandoms : DC Comics, Batman (1940), Detective Comics, Robin v4 (1993), Red Robin (2009), Teen Titans (2003)

Continuity : Post-Crisis/Pre-Flashpoint

Summary : So maybe Tim loved Dick too much, but to be fair Dick was the only person he had to love for a long time.

Author’s notes : This one’s about Tim and Dick’s BROTHERLY relationship Also I try to keep most of the fics for this Week less than 1000 words...I have failed yet again

Word Count : 2827

To read it on AO3

Tim, as can be expected from any non-powered person running around in costume fighting criminals, had received many injuries in the past four years (as proved by his asplenia). Physical, psychological (thank you Scarecrow, Darkseid and Granny Goodness, you've been some of the worse) and emotional, he went through them all. It probably did not help that he was from a rich family (no matter how reckless he could be sometimes, he still lived in as safe an environment Gotham or boarding school for Richie rich (white) kids could be) or that he wasn't very emotionally stable to begin with (he never realized it until he got the chance to open up to his friends and they looked at him as if he was the "saddest little bean" ever -Conner's own words. He hadn't known Bart and Conner were able to feel like this toward anything other than children, women or TV shows and Video Games).

So yeah, lots and lots of bad History there. Still the worse injuries had been the emotional and psychological ones (he still had nightmares about their time on Apokalips, he still sees the nightmares Granny Goodness had created for him, he had nightmares where he didn't "turn down" the Anti-Life Equation and those were often mixed with memories of a future where he became a dictator, where he had managed to clone Conner). The worse ones though were the deaths : Steph, Bart Cass. It didn't matter if some ended up not being real he was still forced to start grieving and psychology hadn't really caught up on how to react to your friends coming back to life. There was also that time he was preparing himself for Dick joining the list (he honestly doesn't know what would have happened to him if Dick had died) and Dana, though not physically wounded was pretty much unable to handle a complete conversation or even take care of herself. His mother and father were special cases themselves as what hurt the most was never knowing what could have been and knowing what never was. Then there were the harshest ones : Conner's and Bruce's. They had both impacted him so deeply he didn't think he would ever truly heal from them. Conner's because, well because he's his best friends, one of the most important people in his life (and hadn't that been an unexpected turn) and Bruce, well, because it's Bruce. Tim became Robin to protect him from himself (and barely lasted four years and a half). But everything that happened because of his death made it worse.

And that's what this is about right ?

Tim loves Dick. He has since he was 3. Dick was his role model, then his big brother, one of the rare people he could confide in (After Conner's death, when they were gone and later on learning Bart's "disappearing act" he became pretty much the only one aside from Cassie sometimes). The tragedy of Dick's childhood shaped his life.

And Dick chose Damian. He knew that he had failed Bruce but he still deserved to be Robin and yet Dick had chosen this homicidal kid for the role. And of course, Dick was the new Batman, the former Robin, of course his vision for the role is what mattered most. But...Tim was the one who had...he had to force Bruce to take on a new Robin, he worked himself almost to the death to be worthy of the mantle and it was taken from him. Dick didn't even have the gut to tell him he just...he was walking in to get changed Damian was wearing a Robin uniform. Was it that hard to tell him? Was it because of his theory that Bruce is alive? Did Dick think he was so mad with grief he really didn't deserve the mantle? What was Tim supposed to do? He just said that it was because he thought he was ready to be his own hero. But then why not talk it through with him? He didn't even have the time to choose a new name and he had to find Bruce. He didn't *have* the time for that. How could Dick do that to him. How could he suggest that Tim was mad when he was the one running away from his grief? Dick was the one who got angry at Bruce Oh so many times because he made decisions without consulting the people concerned and Dick did exactly the same with Tim.

The hypocrisy was daunting. Tim had always known that Dick was more similar to Bruce than either of them would admit. But they were similar and it made Tim so, so sad. he didn't know what to do.

Yes, he did.

He had to find Bruce. Because Bruce has to be alive. Because he needs to not be mad. Because his brother, his model admitted that Tim just wasn't enough. No matter the excuses he tried to give, at the end of the day, Tim lost his second father in a year and his brother took the last thing Tim had from him. Took the last bit of anything right in his life away from him to give it to someone who had tried only a few months prior to kill him in order to become Robin. And well Tim had just lost the two things he had left. Damian had reached his goal even if it wasn't in the way he had expected.

But Tim still had one thing to do and he couldn't actually die until it was done. He had to bring Bruce back home.

Bruce had been back for a year now. Tim…still hadn't really talked with either of them.

The truth is that he spent most of his downtime with Conner, Bart, Cassie, or any of the Titans (it turns out Solstice had actually met his father when he went out on a dig once) rather than try to talk to any of the Bats outside of Barbara, Alfred and Cass.

He and Steph had a truce and they could work together if they had to but it was still awkward. They had, after all always had this on and off relationship which only stopped when she died. Her coming back to life ended up with him being confused about which part he was supposed to be feeling : wanting to start again like they always did ? or just try and be friends ? Because it wasn't like it had been with Ariana, when he had pretty much already moved on when they broke up. His and Steph's break up was sudden to him (even if in retrospect he realized it was bound to happen soon enough) and her death only happened within a few weeks of it. He never had the time to realize a car hit him before a truck hit him harder. And this time it seemed to be truly over but what do you do when you have a history of going back to this person, even if you have realized you only did it because of familiarity? Because you missed having intimacy with someone and it was just easier to fall back into a known situation even if it wasn't an ideal one, even if you knew it was going to end badly but couldn't help hoping it wouldn't simply out of fear of being alone, out of fear of never finding anyone you could get this intimacy with.

Tim wished he had an answer to this question but the truth is that he was still struggling. He was lucky he had his friends back to keep him out of Gotham on a regular basis, to be in a somewhat supportive environment. It wasn't perfect obviously, they all had their own issues and Conner and Cassie's strained relationship wasn't easy especially for him and Bart. Because while they were all best friends Bart and him were better friends with Conner than they were with Cassie and Cassie knew it and even if neither tried to make them chose between them (it wasn't a "who to side with" choice obviously, more of "who gets to keep who" kind of choice) they all knew what that choice would be, especially for Tim (Bart might choose Cassie just to counterbalance Tim's choice, even if it wouldn't be his main choice), and it hurt because they did love Cassie. So even if they didn't talk about it, the elephant was in the room. Or at least it was until Bart couldn't stand it and locked the three of them in a room until they either "killed each other, made up or had a threesome" (the last one had shocked them, both because they didn't understand why Bart would associate the idea of a threesome with them and because, even if they knew Bart had grown up and was knowledgeable about a variety of subjects, some things were still hard to swallow and Bart being aware of sex always managed to surprise them no matter how often it happened). Of course they could have gotten out easily, between the two powerhouses and Tim's own pick locking skills, it was child's play. Only, if Bart hadn't intervened, Tim wouldn't have lasted much longer. So when his friends got ready to destroy the door, he stopped them and forced them to confront their issues (it was so much easier to force other than to do it himself). And sure, just because they talked about it, it didn't mean everything was all and good but it meant that at some point it could be.

And why was he saying this? Because he was avoiding the situation at hand obviously. He was in a coffee shop, sitting across from Dick, a cup of hot chocolate filled with melting whipped cream between his hands. Cass was right, they had to talk things through. Still, she had allowed him a few months because for once in his life he felt he had a right to not forgive right away. Sure it seemed petty but, Tim always forgave people. There were only five instances when he didn't forgive right away: when Bruce had revealed his identity to Steph, when half of Young Justice had admitted to not trusting him (when Kon and Bart had admitted to not trusting him), when he learned that Leslie Thompkins and Steph had lied to them about Steph's death, when Jason had tried to kill him and when Damian had tried to kill him. And even then he had always forgiven in the weeks that followed (it took a lot longer for Leslie, Jason and Bart but the circumstances were different...and he's still struggling with the Damian situation but it's complicated and linked to this one). Simply put, Tim had to live through hell. He hadn't been sure he would survive the emotional strain and at some point he hadn't even been sure he wanted to (actually he was sure he hadn't wanted to). And of course, he wasn't the only one, he knew that but it didn't make his distress go away. So he let himself feel it, acknowledge his feelings for once (which was actively encouraged by his friends) until Cass decided enough was enough (she was right of course it was starting to wring him down, whether he managed to bridge the gap between them or not, he needed to let go).

The thing is, Dick had never apologized.

It may seem stupid but Dick was the biggest influence in his life, along with Bruce, and he had taken everything away from him without even informing him and, and he hadn't even apologized.

This was going to be long.

The whipped cream was completely melted by now. He hadn't been this awkward with Dick since Dick had been his own Batman. It was a lifetime ago (and even then the awkwardness wasn't nearly this bad). He didn't know what to say. Dick seemed to be as lost as he was and he could see Cass hovering nearby. And he couldn't hold it in anymore:

"You never apologized" he blurted out, eyes still lost in his mug.

Dick was obviously taken aback (and why wouldn't he, they had been silent for at least 5 whole minutes before Tim started talking), so he continued.

"You took the Robin mantle from me and gave it to Damian of all people. I had to work at convincing you and Bruce I deserved it and he got it almost right after Bruce's death, you didn't even have the decency to ask me if I was ready, if I was okay for it. I get why he needed it now, but back then you just sprung it on me. You did to me what you're always reproaching to Bruce. I lost my second father in a year, most of my friends were dead and you took away not only the role I had worked so hard to fill and you took my trust in you with it. You even took the trust I had in Cassie when you asked her to come and convince me I was mad. You pretty much called me crazy."

Tim stopped for a second. Taking a deep breathe he looked up from his hot chocolate. Dick seemed to be about to say something but didn't seem to be able to form any words and Tim would have interrupted him anyway. He needed to finish what he had started or he might lose al his courage :

"I know you have emotional issues, we all do, but I thought you could at least manage to apologize. I was alone Dick, I didn't feel safe anywhere because it felt like at any point you were going to send someone new to convince me to go to Arkham. And I get that you had other things to do and that all of a sudden you had other responsibilities on top of having to deal with Bruce's death but it doesn't change the fact that I was one of your responsibilities and you chose to give up on me. You acted as if I had this, big and sudden change, like my emotional instability was somehow new. Like your actions wouldn't, hadn't impacted it. It wasn't Dick and I'm sure you know it, that you knew it, but it was easier to ignore it."

And he knew it was harsh and even a little unfair, that he wasn't perfect either but it felt good to just, lay it out there. And Dick looked horrified and he probably hadn't realized how badly Tim was doing back then. Dick was usually good at pinpointing other's emotional weaknesses but for some reason he had never seemed to really see Tim's. He tried to reach out from across the table, tried to take Tim's hands in his own because, for once, he really needed this bit of contact. But the action surprised Tim who retracted them quickly. They both winced at the reflexive movement which was oh so reflecting of the state of their relationship. Still it seemed to renew Dick's determination and while he didn't try to touch Tim again, he made sure to look him in the eye as he spoke to him :

"You're right I'm sorry. I have no actual excuse for this except that I didn't realize what it was doing to you. I honestly thought you were ready to fly on your own and that Damian needed to be Robin in order to adjust better and I didn't think about how it'd affect you. I said it was because I considered you my equal and still pulled a Bruce and took you out of the decision-making process. And you're right I should have apologized long ago but I didn't really comprehend what had gone wrong until now and I'm so sorry. I promise I'll try to work on it but, I'm not a mind reader. You also have to promise that if I ever do something like that again you will knock some sense into me. Like you usually do with Bruce"

And that was it. Tim didn't really need some long-winded apology. This was enough : acknowledging their faults and promising they'd at least try to get better

And sure, as with Conner and Cassie's resolution, things were far from perfect and wouldn't be for a long while. But as he was suddenly enveloped in his big brother's arms (which was a nice change from Bart, Cassie and Conner, no matter how much he loved the little massaging Conner did around his ears during their half hugs)…as he finally, and for the first time in over a year, truly felt that he was loved by Dick instead of just guessing, thinking, supposing, deducing…Now that he truly felt it, knew it for sure; he had hope that he could really salvage their relationship.

Author’s Note 2 : This work is un-betaed, if you have any advice or anything don't hesitate to tell me (no I'm not fishing for comments I have no idea what you mean)I didn't talk about Tim's suicidal attempts, especially not in the conversation because I don't think either of them are ready to even start thinking about it, much less talking about it.I have put some TimKonCassie again, for a ship that I don't ship it sure comes up often (then again in all of their comics versions Kon and Cassie's relationship almost always only exist through Tim. so if I write about KonCassie it's gonna end up being KonTimCassie...)There's a tiny bit of sexism at the beginning, it's because -sadly- the 90's were a quite sexist time (not that it's much better today) and some, tendencies of the heroes reflect that (except for Kon who was actually not *that* bad, for various reasons I won't get into here until around the 60-70 issues of his first Superboy series and especially Joe Kelly and Dan Didio's run at whichpoint he became a fuckboy and even a tad homophobic (oh I long for the time when he barely batted an eyelash when he learned that his then best friend was gay and thought he and his bf were a cute couple...)), it was a time full of comments that "when cute girl talking to you/you talking to cute girl = flirting even if you're not actually interested"...

[slutforbatfam]

The Robins x reader w/ low body positivity

  a/n: I did some like scenarios (I guess that’s what you would call it idk) of the robins because one of my friends was feeling a bit down about his body(yes, I’m saying that males get self conscious of their bodies too which so many people have the misconception that they don’t) and I decided to make some robin scenarios for anybody else out there who was feeling a bit down about their bodies and I want all of you to know that you are beautiful just the way you are.  (I know some parts were longer than others and I’m sorry but I hope they’re all equally lovable.)

(side note: I didn’t do Stephanie Brown even though she was a robin at one point because most people know her more as batgirl rather than robin and also the fact that she wasn’t even really robin for that long of a time so I decided to not put her in this but if someone wants me to do her I’d be glad to do it.)

(another fucking side note:  This post is quite long and I’m so sorry but it’s because I added all the robins.  Sorry again, if its like so long and annoying.  It’s just easier for me to upload it all at one time but I’ll post them separately if it’s more convenient for others.)

Dick Grayson

You were standing in the mirror getting ready for a night out with your friends as a pair of arms wrapped around your waist.  Before you could stop yourself the words, “Do I look fat?” slipped out of your mouth.  Dick’s arms slacked a little as he looked into the mirror at your face.  “What?” he asked with a slightly amused look.  “Never mind.  Forget what I said. It doesn’t matter.”  “No no no.  It does matter.  Why would you think that?”  He grabbed your wrist and turned you around saying, “You look gorgeous.  And besides you’re the sweetest, hottest person I’ve met, (y/n).”  Then, he proceeded to press kisses along your jawline.  You felt your cheeks burn a bright red as he looked into your eyes sweetly and said, “You know we can do other fun things here, rather going out today.” “No, I made a reservation, Dick.  But maybe, afterwards we can have a little dessert.” you said seductively while walking out the room.  *later after dinner*  “This isn’t the type of dessert I thought you were, (y/n).” you heard Dick whine for the 2nd time.  “It’s not my fault you have a naughty mind.” You said while slowly licking your spoon to free it of the rest of your ice cream.  Dick rolled his eyes as he tried to make a move on you for the 4th time while running his hands up your thighs and whispering your name into your ear softly.  You guys did have a fun night though after dessert *wink wink*

Jason Todd

You were running your hands up and down your body tracing your self conscious spots.  Jason came out in his swimming trunks and grabbed the bag that you had pre-packed from last night.  “Come on, (y/n).  We have to start going.  I wanna kick Dick’s butt at volleyball when we get to the beach.”  You smiled softly as you nodded and grabbed your sandals and a cover up.  “Is Alfred picking us up?”  “Yup, Bruce told me that they should be arriving here in about 5 minutes.”  Jason pressed a kiss to your cheek and he placed his free hand on your ass.  *at the beach*  “You sure you don’t wanna take that off and go for a swim or join us in volleyball?”  Jason asked you for the millionth time.  “No, I’m fine.”  You whispered as you looked around at the girls who had joined the family’s game of volleyball.  “At least take off that cover up.  You look like you’re burning.”  Jason’s voice started to change into a sound of worry and slight irritation at your stubbornness.  You shook your head while sighing and crossed your arms like a child who was rebelling.  Jason took a seat next to you and pulled your cover up off and started putting more sunscreen on you.  “Okay, if you don’t wanna play I’ll leave you alone but if this is because you feel self conscious then I’ll keep bugging you till the day ends.”  he said while puffing out a deep breath.  “You look great, y/n.”  He said before letting out a frustrated sigh and started again, “I suck at this.  I just want you to know that you’re hot, y/n.  Especially, at night when we play rumble.” he chuckled softly at your red face and kissed your collarbone then he got up to go play volleyball again.  “Hey,  I’m back guys.” he yelled out cheerfully as he hit a ball out of his face and towards Tim’s face.  You smiled at him and looked around as you thought “How did I get so lucky with a dumbass like him?”  Then, you went out onto the sand as a ball flew past your face by inches.  “Oh, it’s on, Drake.”

Tim Drake

Tim was typing away on his computer as you read over his shoulder.  “Is it an essay?”  “Yeah,  it has to be 5 pages.” he said without even looking up at you.  You smiled at the way that his eyebrows furrowed when he was concentrating, and the frustrated look that came upon his face when he was trying to think of a good word to use.  You left the room quietly and went to the kitchen to make Tim and yourself some food.  You fixed (y/f/f) and placed it on a plate.  You walked back into the room and placed the food in front of Tim.  “You should take a little rest, Tim.”  He smiled up into your (e/c) and then he kissed your wrist.  You watched him eat and just picked at your own food and took small bites.  “Are you not hungry?” “Uhhh. No not really.”  He looked into your eyes as he tried to see if you were telling the truth. You met his eyes as he looked away.  “You always (n/h) when you’re lying or nervous.  Also, you think I haven’t noticed that you pick at your food a lot lately.”  You laughed and said, “Of course.  I wouldn’t be able to fool one of the best detectives.”  He smiled softly and kissed the space between your lips and jaw.  “You’re perfect to me, y/n.  I….um...I”  Tim looked at you and stroked him thumb on your hand.  “Tim?” you asked getting concerned.  “I love you, y/n.  Why would you think that you’re not pretty or whatever.”  You smiled as he took another bite of the food and you kissed his forehead as you said, “This is why I love you.  You adorkable twat.”  Tim rolled his eyes slightly as he pinched your cheeks.  “I’m gonna go back to my paper.”  

Carrie Kelley

(side note:  I don’t really know that much about Carrie’s character so if I suck ass on this one, I’m sorry.  Also, this is like the millionth side note.)

You walked past Carrie as she was packing for a small camping trip that she was having at one of her friend’s backyards.  “Hey, do you know where my shirt is?  You know the one that has a whole bunch of holes in it but I still wear it.” You yelled in the direction where she was.  “Uhhhh.  I don’t think so.  Maybe you left it in the laundry?” she yelled back. “Why are you looking for it?”  You walked into the doorway of her room and said, “I was gonna wear it to go workout.  Or at least look like I went working out.”  She laughed slightly at your statement.  “I wish I was more like you, Carrie.” you said, “You’re cute, fit, and….just everything.”  Carrie looked up at you in surprise and laughed a little. “You’re perfect too, y/n”  She started to stand up and grabbed both of you wrists.  “You’re cute, pretty, awesome, great, and so much more that even I can’t name them all.”  You smiled at her comment as she pulled hair out of your face.  “Thanks.  I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  “Nothing.  Absolutely nothing because we’re like puzzles.  Without us together nothing will be right because we won’t make the picture.  I love you and you should know that.  You’re gorgeous.”  Your face started to light up like a red stoplight and you stroked her cheek in appreciation as you pulled her into a soft kiss.  

Damian Wayne

(side side note:  so, (b/f) means best friend and (l/f/t) means least favorite teacher.  (e/c) means eye color.

You came back from the day's class and walked into the apartment that you shared with your (b/f).  “Hey, babe.”  your friend called out to you as she pulled you into a one sided hug.  “Hey.”  You proceeded to drag yourself to your room in a tired feat.  “God, I hate (l/f/t). He always gives a pile of homework that isn’t even related to the actual class.”  You started taking your clothes off and sighed as the air passed your skin in a slight breeze. “Is that so?  Is the teacher doing his job correctly?”  you heard a voice come out from inside your closet.  Your whole body froze with goosebumps as you grabbed your sandal from the ground.  “Who the hell are you?”  you questioned as you pulled open the door and got into a defensive stance.  Your boyfriend Damian Wayne pulled you into a hug as he spinned(a/n: is spinned even correct.  IDK anymore at this point. I’m tired) you around and dipped you.  “Really?  A sandal.  Now, I know you can do better than that, y/n.”  He let out a soft chuckle as you struggled slightly and sat on the edge of your slightly messy bed.  Damian’s face went red as he noticed your half naked state and looked away.  “Put some clothes on.”  You looked down at your bare skin and grabbed a random shirt on the ground in embarrassment.  “You ready to head out, my love?”  Damian asked from outside the room.  You looked at your outfit one last time before stepping out the door.  *at fancy restaurant*  Your (b/f) was laughing with their s/o as you and Damian slipped into your own conversation.  Damian’s gaze looked past yours towards a blonde girl in the back of the room.  She was tall, skinny with perfect skin.  She kept winking and making smoochy faces at Damian.  Damian’s hand moved to your thigh and he smiled at you.  “Isn’t she pretty?”  you asked looking at the thigh that Damian’s hand was resting on.  “Huh?”  Damian looked down at your (e/c) eyes and stroked your hair.  “See.  You can’t even answer, Damian.”  “No.  It’s just that it’s so startling that you would think that.  You’re beautiful.  At least better than her I mean she’s making moves on me who is clearly taken by a beautiful beast like you.  You make me feel more attached to life, my love.”  He pulled your lips to his in a gentle gesture as your (b/f) suddenly burst out laughing and said, “Suck the food not each other’s faces guys.  At least wait till we’re home you two.”  You pulled your quickly reddening face away from Damian’s.  *later that night*  You and Damian just sat in you room and watched movies that you liked in a peaceful silence that couldn’t be anymore perfect than you imagined.

[timotheusxdraki]

Post Flashpoint Tim Drake

Character Wanted: Tim Drake

Face Claim: Ludi Lin

Age: 18

Codename: Red Robin (formerly); Al Makhtar - The Chosen [One]; Ra’s al Ghul [The Demon’s Head] (current)

Occupation: Leader of the League of Assassins

Skills: Expert martial artist, genius intellect, forgery, computer and forensic science, acrobatics, infiltration

Sexuality: Questioning

Gender Identity: Non-binary

Species: Human

Status: Presumed dead by friends and family; actually alive and leading the League of Assassins

BIOGRAPHY:

Past: Tim Drake was a unique child at a very early age. His parents, Jack and Janet, were loving, but distant, as they traveled often. But they were proud of their extraordinary son, and got him the best tutors possible. They pushed for excellence with their son, recognizing his abilities at an early age. Tim can play five instruments and is a talented actor and singer, and he excels in academics. Easily able to balance school work with his special interests, Tim started to get into trouble in grade school when he started hacking the high school computers to help struggling students overcome poor grades and attendance records. He was threatened with expulsion a few times, but because the special private school he was going to didn’t want to risk losing his talents - or his parents’ money - they kept him on. Tim also figured out how to hack into secret, obviously illegal bank accounts, and started siphoning money from the criminal world, into various charities.

Around that time, Tim became fascinated with the vigilante known as Batman. He researched the Bat, along with Nightwing and Robin. It didn’t take him long to figure out who each of the vigilantes were. He approached Batman one night, and offered to help him with his computer work. Batman was impressed, but gently told him that he had to wait a few years, because he felt that the boy was too young. Tim fixed that problem by changing his hospital records to say that he was two years older than he actually was.

It was around that time when Jason, the Robin at the time, was killed. Tim practically forced himself into Batman’s life, keeping the other man from completely losing control. Eventually he became Robin, but not until Bruce insisted on extreme physical and mental training. He traveled all over the world with Bruce, training with some of the very people who had once trained his mentor. They even stopped at Nanda Parbat, until Bruce suddenly had them leave one night. After nearly a year of intensive training, Bruce finally determined that Tim was ready to go out alone on patrol. Out of respect to Jason’s memory, Tim changed his name to Red Robin.

Three years after joining Batman’s cause, Tim’s parents were targeted by the Penguin. He was after their substantial wealth, as well as their connections to a certain hacker who had once swindled money from him.  Although they did not know Tim was Red Robin, they did know that he had hacked into criminal accounts. When they realized that the Penguin believed that one of them had to be the hacker, they carried on with the charade, unwilling to give up information that would risk putting Tim into danger. With their stubborn refusal to give him any useful help, the Penguin tried to kill them.

Batman and Tim managed to arrive in time to save them, though Jack is still in a coma and Janet’s health is frail. The rest of the world believes they are dead; but Bruce and Tim have created new identities for them, and they are well-hidden from everyone, including the rest of the Bat Family.

Bruce Wayne officially adopted Tim six months later, making Tim’s official name Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Tim remained as Batman’s sidekick until Bruce disappeared. Damian did not react well to Bruce being gone, and Dick Grayson decided the best course of action would be to make Damian a Robin, and told Tim he didn’t need him as a Robin, he wanted him as a partner.

Tim did not take that very well, and struck out on his own, angry and resentful at both Dick and Damian. Tim obsessed over what happened to Bruce, and eventually he figured out that Bruce was trapped in another dimension. It took a lot of time and convincing to get anyone to listen, but finally they did, and Tim played a vital role in rescuing Bruce. In between rescuing Bruce, he was investigating a new player. When Bruce came back, the stranger attacked Tim, injuring him severely. It was Jason Todd, returned from the grave, and he left no doubt that he hated Tim.

He never did go back to being Batman’s sidekick, but Tim did work with Bruce on several cases, and even mended his relationship with Dick. It took longer, but he slowly began to work things out with Damian, and even Jason.

While investigating a case, he met the Magician, the man showed interest in him, his skills, and even began working with him on his cases. Tim was suspicious of his motives, and decided to move closer to his family, feeling relieved to get away from him, only to meet the Tiger, an associate of the Magician, in Central City. The two struck up a friendship, although he was still suspicious. Suspicions that were well-founded.

Tim had been tracking some stolen weapons to a warehouse. It was a trap; he was shot within moments of entering the building. Dazed, and in pain, Tim was shocked to see the Tiger and the Magician coming towards him. Tim fought back, and tried to escape. He nearly made it, but the blood loss and shock made him clumsy, and as he tried to escape, he ended up falling down some stairs and landing awkwardly on his ankle.

The two men forced the injured boy to give up his comm and his tracker. After that, Tim passed out, and didn’t wake until nearly a day later, to discover that he was a prisoner of the League of Assassins. He was subsequently tortured, going through the training of all initiates,Tim tried to hold onto who he was, but his captors knew him well, and preyed on his insecurities while he was tortured. Eventually they had to use Lazarus Pit water on him and from then on Tim’s fate was sealed. Once Al Namurr and Al Sah-him were satisfied that he was ready to train to be the Heir to Ra’s al Ghul, and he was renamed Al Makhta - the Chosen [One].

Present: Tim was a good student, and was proving himself a worthy choice. One day, Malcolm collapsed and died. Now he was no longer the Heir, but was in fact Ra’s al Ghul. Tim is working towards keeping the League together and strong while everyone adjusts to the fact that he is the new leader.

Negative traits: obstinate, presumptuous, self-neglectful, cunning

Positive traits: compassionate, steadfast, generous, reliable

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