#because now i no boundaries

[callmeizukunotdeku]

I love the idea of parentified Tim Drake.

Bruce loses Jason and isn't ready for another son. Tim sees this, he acknowledges this, and he's okay with it. He's never really been a son to his own parents so he wouldn't expect the neighbor to start taking care of him.

When Tim's parents come home, they're not mean or anything, they just don't baby him. They treat him as an equal--as someone who knows what he's doing--and that's fine, because he does.

He's been taking care of himself for as long as he could remember, so when people try to treat him like a child, it angers him more than anything. The way that they assume just because he's young he can't take care of himself.

Tim's been to galas before, though. He's talked with Bruce and the man never treated him like he was incompetent. Tim's parents would ask Tim questions about the company so that he could recite them to Bruce. It was a song and dance he was well versed in, but he didn't really mind, not when Bruce looked at him with such a fondness in his eyes, always saying, "That's really interesting. You know a lot about your parents' company. Did it take you a while to memorize it?"

And he'd shake his head and say, "No," because that was the correct response, even if it was wrong.

Even if he had flashcards about Drake industries and kept up to date with perception of the company and the stock value and who the shareholders were and what they wanted and what they were willing to do to get that.

It wasn't one bout of work. It wasn't a single night of studying to make sure he passed the test, but a lifetime memorizing information and then rememorizing it when it changed.

So when Jason died and Bruce started getting bad, Tim knew what to do.

He was used to long term projects where it would be years before he actually got to see any result. He was used to seeing adults as people who he was responsible for, though he had to admit that the responsibility had never been that big before.

When Tim showed up at Bruce's doorstep, he was young, just like both of Bruce's other sons, but his eyes lacked that sort of naïveté and childlike wonder that should have accompanied the baby fat which persisted on his cheeks.

That's what made Alfred pause at the door.

There was a kid. A black haired, blue eyed kid. He was young, like both of Bruce's sons. His lack of naïveté was something he shared with both children, only Dick's had been a fresh sort of loss, one he was still mourning, and Jason's naïveté was something long-forgotten and left to rot. It was a feeling you smelt when you left the windows closed for too long.

Still there, still somewhere, but not quite right and never able to be found, only stumbled upon in rare moments of something that could almost be called joy.

Tim's naïveté is something he left at home. He keeps it on a shelf in his bedroom, something to look at when the going gets rough, but something too fragile to be held.

Maybe that's why Alfred lets him in.

That day, Tim meets Bruce--not Brucie or Batman, just Bruce.

He meets a man who's hair's grown long, but not long enough for it to have been intentional. There's grease in his hair and bags under his eyes and you can tell that he's been biting his nails.

He's clean shaven, because that's what people can see when he wears the cowl.

Tim takes a deep breath before walking into the room.

Bruce doesn't move, but Tim doesn't doubt that the man notices him.

The room smells like alcohol--a smell he recognizes from when his own father is home, though he can't say he's ever remembered it smelling so concentrated.

"Hello," he says, when he's right in front of Bruce, "My name is Tim, and I'm here to help."

Bruce doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to.

Tim talks to him, slowly distracting the man as he brings him to the bathroom, first trying to put a toothbrush in his hand and then, when that doesn't work, brushing the man's teeth himself.

Tim draws a bath for him and grabs him a new pair of clothes, and tells him to take his bath, only leaving the room when Bruce finally stands up and starts undressing.

Tim takes care of the sheets, puts new ones on the bed, and goes to the kitchen, to find Alfred already making food.

The butler asks him if he's staying to eat but Tim just insists that he's not hungry and brings the food up to Bruce.

He knocks on the bathroom door, and when Bruce doesn't respond, he opens it.

Bruce is sitting in the bath, knees to his chest, crying, but not otherwise moving.

So Tim rolls up his sleeves and washes Bruce's hair, then keeps him company as Bruce washes himself.

Bruce finds it easier to get things done when there's someone else in the room--talking to him, giving him something else to think about.

Tim talks as he gets Bruce out of the bath and hand him a towel. He talks as Bruce dries himself off and gets dressed. He talks as Bruce eats the lunch that Alfred made him and he talks until he gets Bruce back to bed.

He leaves, voice hoarse from talking so much after living in an empty home.

He comes back the next day and does it all again.

Alfred doesn't know what he should do. He knows, of course, that Tim is young and shouldn't be taking care of someone at that age.

He also knows that Bruce is in no state to take care of himself and all of Alfred's attempts have been in vain.

Tim's talking was what got Bruce to eat his first actual meal in a week--not just popcorn and protein bars. Tim's presence is what got Bruce to bed.

Tim was what was making things better, so while Alfred knew he should put a stop to it, he couldn't quite make himself do so.

Instead, he started doing little things.

He invited Tim to stay for meals.

Invited Tim to stay the night.

It took a while, but eventually, Tim started living in the manor.

One month, there's only ghosts in the house, the next, three beating hearts.

One month, Bruce can only think of his son, the next, he's calling Tim his dad.

One day, Bruce crosses the line as Batman, and the next day, he has a Robin.

You know how things go from there, some things are lost, others are gained. Some things stay the same, others do nothing but change.

Bruce and Tim get better, but Bruce still thinks of Tim as his dad.

No one really pays it much heed, though. That's just how they are--nothing really to note.

It's Dick, though, who starts noticing something's off, because Tim never sleeps.

When Dick was first adopted, he had nightmares.

He'd remember what it was like to watch someone fall. He did not watch it from the ground, but from the balcony, holding onto a trapeze, moments away from completing his own jump.

It took him months to finally come to Bruce, tell him about his nightmares.

Though he was never told the details, he knew it was the same for Jason. He pushed Bruce away, insisted that he'd be fine on his own, but eventually started letting him in.

He never asked, but assumed it was the same for Tim. When Tim couldn't sleep, when he had nightmares, when he couldn't stand to sleep in an empty bed, he'd go to Bruce like the rest of them did.

It was a reasonable thing to assume, and it was a belief he only questioned when he got up in the middle of the night to get water.

That same night, Bruce had a nightmare. Bruce knocked on Tim's door. Bruce slept in Tim's bed.

Tim ran his hands through Bruce's hair, promising that everything would be okay until Bruce fell asleep.

Now that he knew to look for it, Dick started noticing even more. The way Tim knew Bruce's favorite food and the way Tim took care of the man's company so that Bruce had the freedom to do what he wanted. The way Bruce turned to Tim when he had a problem or wanted to be told he did something well.

It was wrong.

It was wrong and Dick was trapped because he hadn't noticed it earlier. Why didn't he notice it earlier?

Tim came to him first, asked him to become Robin again. Dick knew about Tim from the start. Dick was there for the entirety of his stay as Robin.

He was there.

So why didn't he noticed?

Jason sees him panicking on patrol and Dick just breaks.

He breaks down in his brother's arms--arms he can feel tightening around him as he tells him everything.

They talk about it a lot after that. Jason starts noticing things too.

They bring in Babs and start making a file--compiling evidence because there's always the urge to just ignore it. To acknowledge that Bruce is doing better than ever.

But that requires them to forget about Tim.

To let the boy take care of Bruce and not live his own life.

Because, now that they're looking, they can see how lonely it is.

How he doesn't have any school friends--he had to drop out to take over WE.

How he's grown apart from Young Justice--always leaving when Bruce is in trouble or needs someone to talk to, not able to bear the idea of what Bruce might do if left alone.

Because Tim knows he'll break.

Bruce needs someone to take care of him, and Tim exists to fulfill the needs of others, regardless of how much it takes from him.

So Tim goes and helps his son. He never talks about how tired he is. He has sleeping pills to fix that, and maybe he can't take them because what if Bruce has a nightmare and then he can't wake up Tim--it's unimaginable.

Dick and Jason notice, though, and they try to bring it up with him, but they're not sure how.

Not when Tim's gut reaction is just to start taking care of them, too. Easing their worries, telling them that everything's okay.

They want so bad to insist that it's not okay, that this is going to ruin Tim and he can't spend his whole life like this.

But they want even more to be held. To be granted that unconditional love and care that comes with being Tim's child.

So they try to say something--anything.

But then, Tim smiles. He opens his arms to them and asks about their days.

And they they try to tell him that not everything's okay, but Tim is smiling, and they try, but they can't say a thing.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good Morning, World.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[cubbihue]

I've been reading a lot of your AU, and I was wondering if Timmy has interacted with the genie Norm? What would their interaction be like?

He has! But only once. Timmy had to release Norm to let him know that he was being sent back down to Earth, as per the Genie-Fairy Treaty.

Norm was very very annoyed to hear that his 20 years of plotting has been thrown down the drain, what with Timmy becoming a Fairy. But, hey, it just means he has all of eternity to find something to make Timmy's life worse! Or just to make him suffer.

Afterwords, Norm's lamp was thrown back to Earth for any person to find.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[aidenwaites]

I think the "No one knows how to properly introduce themselves to new animals" thing drives me so nuts because I learned it at SUCH a young age and it's such a simple skill and it's literally never once failed me. You can't just go straight for the head pats or grabbing their face in your hands or demanding a trick. You don't want me running up to you and forcefully taking your hand for a handshake or touching your hair before we've even acknowledged each other. Dogs and cats would usually like an introduction and a show of manners, too

[sunfloweraro]

More Pink Bunny Stuff!

Warriors learns not to touch Bunny without permission the hard way. His response catches Bunny off guard

(AKA the scene I thought I’d already shared and had promised @thatonecrazysidekick (oops!). @tiredgaytheatrekid more Bunny stuff!!)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Wind began to hum absentmindedly as Warriors towelled off his hair, cheerful despite his earlier complaints, and Warriors couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corners of his lips. He took more care with drying his young friend’s hair, pulling the damp strands out of Wind’s face, tucking a lock behind his ear.

Wind groaned. “Wars, you’re babying me again.”

“I would never.” Warriors definitely was. How could he not, when Wind was like the little brother he never got to have? When Wind reminded him of his boisterous little sister back home.

“You are. We should start calling you Ma.”

“If that would make you happy,” Warriors said, smile turning into a smirk as he finished off drying Wind’s hair. “Done. Was that so bad?”

Wind scoffed, but when he stood, he leaned into Warriors’ side, a brief moment of affection to show his appreciation. “Terrible,” he said.

“Truly terrible,” Warriors agreed. “And you are welcome.”

“Thanks, Wars.” Wind smiled at him, that toothy grin that made Warriors think so much of his little sister, and he couldn’t help but pinch Wind’s cheek. “Ah—don’t!” He shoved Warriors’ hand away, cheeks aflame.

“Alright. Go have your dinner now.”

“Yes, ma.” For that, Wind earned Warriors’ hand ruffling his hair, messing it up even more. “Ugh, Wars.”

“Wind.”

“You need to eat too.”

“I will once you have all eaten.”

Wind, more than used to his idiosyncrasies by now, nodded, grabbing his arm and dragging him closer to the fire, where Twilight was dishing out the soup he and Time had prepared. He shared a nod with Warriors, ladling out a bowl for Wind and passing it over before moving on to the next hungry mouth. Only once they had all eaten their fill could Warriors pick up spoon and bowl and dig in himself, once he was certain they were all fed and not going hungry. They all knew that well by now, didn’t try and push him before he was ready.

While Wind had his dinner served, Warriors let him go, moving over to sit alongside Hyrule closer to the fire, where warmth pressed against his chest and legs as he sat on the log left behind by the lizalfos.

“You smell better,” Warriors commented.

“Likewise,” Hyrule said, and they shared a grin. It was then Warriors noticed the little rabbit—Bunny, as Hyrule and Twilight had taken to calling it—nestled in Hyrule’s lap, clean and fluffier than ever. And pink.

“Huh,” Warriors commented, his eyes on Bunny.

“Yeah,” Hyrule agreed. “We think it must be an era-specific thing. I’ve never seen a rabbit this colour in my era.”

“It could be dye,” Warriors offered.

“We thought that too, but I’ve checked and the colour goes right down to the roots. If he’s been out in the wild for weeks, then his natural colour would have started to grow back by now. So… pink fur it is.”

“Pink fur it is,” Warriors agreed, and when Hyrule hummed, beginning to run his hand down Bunny’s back, smoothing out the fur, that warm affection leftover from his time with Wind swelled in his chest. He reached out to pet Bunny’s fluffy pink head as Hyrule was doing. It happened fast, a blur of pink and then sharp, fiery pain along the back of his hand.

“Ow!” Warriors tore his hand back, inspecting the little bite mark, lazily weeping ruby red. “Did he bite me?”

“Oh my—Bunny!” Hyrule began to chastise the rabbit, but Bunny only had eyes for Warriors. Violet narrowed at him, watching him with suspicion, and Warriors found all frustration dissipate.

“It is okay,” he assured Hyrule. “I should not have tried to touch him without permission.”

Violet eyes widened slightly. Warriors thought back to Twilight’s comment of Bunny being a lot smarter than the average rabbit. Wondered if Bunny could understand him—perhaps not his words, but the meaning behind them, his tone of voice.

“I am sorry,” he spoke to Bunny this time and not Hyrule. “I should not have tried to touch you without permission, and I swear I will not do it again.”

Bunny watched him for a long moment, curious. He blinked slowly. Then he dipped his head, the gesture far more Hylian than Warriors anticipated from the rabbit.

[stupid-elf]

Growing up with strict, neurodivergent parents while neurodivergent yourself will have you as an adult acting like you've recently escaped the feywild. What are the tricky rules? Is everything accounted for? How do I ensure I don't accidentally step over the line into Impoliteness. You know the consequences aren't death and dismemberment but you might look down one day and find you've lost your shadow and all of your friends if you're not careful

[skybristle]

rbs > likes

something evil happening 2 me i fear... thank you @localceilingdevil for design help ...... i already also want to do sparks aauughhh

[neon-moon-beam]

Submas Sygna Suit Stories In A Nutshell

Emmet: I learned how to Dynamax with Eelektross! I'm learning another side of him!

The eel: o O o Ingo: I hope I can guide lost people who haven't reached their final destination yet with Chandelure!

The lamp: o --- o

[skecherss]

"He knows I'm not the possessive type. I'm totally cool with him having other friends." Girl twenty issues earlier you stole your mom's scrubs to sneak into a hospital and spy on your boyfriend's female friend after he repeatedly told you they were just friends. ARE you cool with it

from Robin (1993) #101

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A week or two after the Dubai Air protest Sam happens upon Jamie lounging listlessly on a bench in the otherwise deserted gym. He’s not doing any exercise, just sitting there and staring out into nothingness with a curiously vacant look on his face.

Sam hesitates, hovering in the doorway. He’s come for a little bit of extra weights before heading home, and he hadn’t expected anyone to be here this late, least of all Jamie. It’s been a long day and Sam’s not sure if he’s up for dealing with the (possibly) reformed bully right now. Even if they are edging towards friendly, and even if that’s no small thing given what’s come between them before, there’s still an undercurrent of charged uncertainty to their interactions, a stilted hesitancy to their cautious politeness and careful attempts at casual camaraderie.

Jamie hasn’t explicitly told Sam that he’s sorry for the things he’s put him through. Sam has decided that he will not let his decision to give Jamie another chance be contingent upon this. It’s very tiring, being angry and resentful of the other’s presence: so much easier to accept the taped up logo for the peace offering it was, and let that be Jamie’s apology.

(If it rankles, it only rankles a little.)

Reminding himself of his decision to let bygones be bygones, and that they won’t ever get anywhere if they don’t actually learn to talk, Sam steps into the gym. Asks as he would any other glum-looking team mate he’d unexpectedly happened upon, “Are you all right, Jamie?”

Holds himself ready, holds himself steady, if Jamie should bare his teeth and bite, now that there’s no one around to see it.

But Jamie only starts a little, like he hadn’t noticed Sam or he’s surprised to be voluntarily addressed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good, man. Great, you know. It’s just… I’m a bit tired, I guess.“ He pauses, then his face suddenly collapses and he gives Sam the most plaintive of looks. “It’s just so fucking exhausting being nice all the time. I don’t know how you do it, mate.”

Ah. Sam tactfully doesn’t say that it’s usually no effort for him and that he doesn’t really understand how it could possible come that hard for anyone.

He also doesn’t point out that not actively being mean to people isn’t quite the same as being nice.

Because Jamie is trying, isn’t he, even if it’s painfully evident that he still needs to try, that it doesn’t come quite naturally.  

“Bit like when Spike had that chip in his head and had no choice but to team up with the good guys, isn’t it?” Colin had muttered a few days after their wayward striker had re-joined them, and yes, Sam had had to agree: it is a bit like that.

But there’s no chip in Jamie’s head (Sam is pretty sure). He’s here of his own free will, trying to be a good team mate and a better person because he wants to be. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?

Sam is pretty sure his dad would say it does. Sam wants to be the sort of person that lets it count.

And Jamie is looking genuinely dejected, in a way that has Sam feel a small surge of something that isn’t affection but isn’t too unlike it either. A little bit of pity mingling with amusement; enough that he’s moved to brave sitting down next to Jamie.

“Well, I have had more practise,” he says lightly. “I bet you will be really good at it if you give it a bit more time.”

“Yeah?” It’s offered casually, but there’s no disguising the faint hope in it. Sam can feel Jamie watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course,” he says, and then, feeling bold, “You are Jamie Tartt. Aren’t you good at everything?”

A pause, and Sam holds his breath, praying that Jamie will understand that he’s being teased rather than mocked—

Then Jamie snorts, a sound halfway to a chuckle. “Yeah, man,” he retorts, bumping his shoulder against Sam’s, very carefully. “I’ll be the fucking best at being nice. Swear down, I’ll be so good I make you look like Geezer Scrooge.”

“That, I’d like to see,” Sam says drily; says sincerely. Standing, he nods towards the weight bench. “Do you think you can be good enough not to let me be crushed to death while you spot me?”

For a moment, Jamie looks taken aback, and Sam braces himself for a snide retort to his presumption – but it doesn’t come. Instead Jaime’s face clears, and he gives a sharp nod.

“Course, mate,” he says, and rises to follow Sam.

[i-really-like-phrogs]

Re-design of my un-named Beetlejuice OC from back when I was thirteen

Original Reference under the cut:

[thebitchlapin]

Until recently I hadn't watched or even heard of Total Forgiveness but now I have and like. Knowing that the consistently fading green hair Ally had for quite a while was because Grant made them dress up as an Oompa Loompa for their DMV picture feels like unlocking some deep lore that changes everything they had that hair in

[uncanny-tranny]

Also, in response to the "testosterone making people angrier" myth, I've found that, personally, testosterone has given me the self-respect to recognize and call out when my boundaries are being overstepped in ways that I wouldn't have had the courage (or, frankly even liking of myself) to have done before. This is in addition to me working on my trauma responses, but testosterone was the spark that gave me the will to do this in the first place. When I see people sae that as anger and thus is a "bad thing," I wonder how much of that is just people being uncomfortable with us... having boundaries or enforcing them, and that the response to that overstepping is labeled as aggressive anger.

Frankly, I now actually respect myself enough to care when I am being mistreated. It seems that people sometimes take that as a personal failure on my end because I don't think I deserve mistreatment.

Caveat: Anger is a fine emotion, and it is a worthy thing to recognize and honour. I find that the accusation of trans men* and trans masc* people "being angry" on testosterone is a moot point simply because it is often a false accusation which uses anger as a punishment. My issue isn't that we're "angry," but that our perceived anger is used, often, as a transphobic bludgeon to punish those who either want to transition with testosterone or who currently are, and everything in-between.

[naamahdarling]

.

[sovereignsystem]

Can we like, stop shaming people for having DNIs?

I don't understand why people think it's... stupid or "a chronically online thing" to have a DNI, like. It's a helpful tool? We read people's DNIs, not just to make them as comfortable as possible (by not interacting if we are on that list), but also so we can tell if we want to interact with someone.

Do people not understand that DNIs are mutually beneficial? Completely harmless? Just stating boundaries?

If you don't like someone's DNI or find it stupid for having certain things on it, Don't Interact With The Person.

It's literally the entire point.

-🧟‍♂️ (he/him)

[snezfics-n-shit]