#hurt Tim Drake

[momachan]

"Robin was out alone that night when he came upon a woman in trouble. We soon realized Tim was missing. Night after night we scoured the city, running down every lead. Pressing every underworld connection. For three agonizing weeks there was nothing. Then one night we were sent an invitation."

Batman Beyond: Return Of The Joker (2001).

[ditzyredrobin]

The Knight’s Red Robin - Snippet 3

Bruce is back so why didn’t anyone tell him?

Part 1 - 2

-

“Red, if you’re in there, so help me.”

The needle slid smoothly through skin, stitching flesh back together easily, but this needed to be done, like, yesterday. He’s running low on spoons and time, and is definitely starting to hit the wrong side of the adrenaline.

Red’s breath hitched at the voice, the needle nearly slipping, but he’s got this. He’s sutured upside down with his eyes shut, so, this? This is cake in comparison.

Knight pounded on the lab door with all the force he could muster when the lock pad beeped unsuccessfully again. He heard him utter unintelligibly under his breath but keeps working the bleeder. He's almost finished. Just another minute and he’ll be in the clear and ready to scram.

It isn’t that bad—it barely needed stitches.

The world is a little misty around the edges, like frosted glass, but he has to keep focused. Jace is on the other side of the door and if he finds him like this (again). Well. It’s not something he’s mighty keen on experiencing.

“I saw you take that hit.” Knight added, his voice strangled through the intercom. “You can’t keep doing this shit. I thought we talked about this.”

Tim glanced up from the injury to the security footage rolling on his main monitor. The footage isn’t graining like olden days tech. It’s crystal clear down to the pinched expression on his face.

He almost has a heart attack when the Knight looks up at the same time, meeting his gaze, like he knew Red was watching him.

Damn it.

He looked pissed.

“It’s fine.” Red called back over the intercom, voice all Red Robin. Wrong answer, apparently, because a muscle jumps in Knight's jaw.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s fine?” Yep, definitely the wrong answer. “Let me in so I can see, dumbass.”

It took everything in him to keep his hands from shaking because if Jace got in while he was that pissed, it was going to be a bad night for Red.

“I mean, it’s fine. I have it managed, thanks.”

Jace growled over the intercom. “It’s like talking to a brick-fucking-wall. Open the damn door, Tim.”

Red grimaced. When things like civilian names come out, that’s when you know you’re in trouble. Tim is for Wayne Enterprises and oh shit sitches. And this was neither.

He. Had. It. Handled.

“Just give me a few more minutes, I’m almost done.”

The thing about his lab was it was an excellent panic room, he had developed the security system himself, it was convoluted with contingencies upon contingencies, even Barbara had a hard time hacking it.

No one was getting in if he didn’t want them in, but after the incident involving the emergency escape hatch when Knight had first come to, it left him a caged bird.

“No, you’re not. Open the door or I’ll open it myself.” He could try.

“I’m fine, Knight, I’ve got it.”

The slice in his thigh was a clean cut, it didn’t take much to stitch it up on his own, even with his wrist aching. He didn’t very well need help with something he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

Why didn’t he believe him? It was a minor wound, it wasn’t like an abdominal wound or something.

“I know you do,” Knight admitted, pulling a complete 360 and not sounding the least bit happy about it. “But you’re not okay, Red.”

He couldn’t help it.

He laughed. What was there to be upset over? Bruce was back, right? Everything he sacrificed was finally worth it. He should be happy. Bruce was back.

So, why did he feel like he was falling apart?

Red bit his lip, tying off the clean line of fresh stitches, and snipping off the excess thread with a birdarang. He dropped the leftovers and needle into the tray beside him.

“I’m fine.” He said but his voice broke. His hands were shaking as he ripped a wound dressing open with his teeth.

“You’re not.” Knight pushed. “I expected as much from Dickhead, but from Al? You deserve better than them.”

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Tim Drake Fics Part 2

Pretty Boys and Identity Problems by DarnGoshit

In an effort to get over his crush on Robin, Kon pursues a relationship with a civilian Gothamite, Tim Drake.

Or, Tim accidentally Hannah Montana’s his crush... and it works?

Leap, Fall, Fly by malcyon

He tries to use his voice, “You have one of my shirts?” Tim looks at him, amused.

“Dude, I have, like, four.”

*****

Kon figures some stuff out. Tim helps.

A Minor Inconvenience by Sishal

Tim knows he shouldn't make potentially dangerous decisions on next to no sleep. Ah well, it will be fine, right?

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Another Mistake - or is it? by Sishal 

Tim makes another stupid mistake. Jason is there to pick up the pieces.

Only A03 users can read this fic

Awesome Big Brother by Sishal 

Tim is maybe infiltrating the wrong club. To be honest, he's not really sure. But he will at least try. Or, well, he would if Jason would let him.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Tired Brothers by Sishal 

Tim is tired. Really tired. So how bad must it be that he’s the epitome of rested when compared to his brothers.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Every Letter Counts by timbitsandpieces

Tim would much rather be taking pictures of Batman and Robin than literally anything school-related, up to and including this stupid English essay he had to do by tomorrow. He’d been putting it off, and was actually putting it off even further, when he remembered one thing. Jason Todd, aka Robin, was an English nerd. Maybe Tim could do both.

Robin landed right next to Tim, immediately scanning the surrounding area for danger. “What’s wrong, kid? Are you okay? What -”

“I’m failing English. Or, I will if you don’t help me with my homework. Please.”

“I - what?”

“My English homework. My essay’s due tomorrow. On The Outsiders. And the role of physical violence in it. You need to help me.”

All He Could Bear by Kgraces

Tim has been avoiding the Bats since he managed to save Bruce from the timestream. He needs to use the Batcomputer for a case, and he plans on leaving before Dick and Damian return from patrol. His carefully timed exit goes awry when Bruce makes an unexpected visit to the Cave.

For the first time since Bruce's return, they talk.

Bruce realizes just how much his third son is hurting and is determined to fix things.

No More Dead Robins by Kgraces for alwaysbeenhim

Tim's heart stops for fifteen minutes after flying solo gets him into trouble he can't outrun.

Jason is determined to fix things between the kid and the rest of the Bats. He won't let Tim be on his own again.

It's Called: Freefall by Kgraces

In the wake of the Widower's attack, Tim Drake has been left for dead. Badly injured and clinging to consciousness, Tim thinks he's hallucinating when he suddenly finds himself back in Gotham. He soon realizes he's not in his Gotham, but he's somehow slipped into another universe, one in which Jason Todd never died. He's expecting to be cast aside, just as he was in his own universe, but that doesn't happen.

Bruce finds a broken bird and takes him under his wing. Tim somehow finds a family, despite his worst fears.

He Knows by Ortholeine

Timothy Drake is a civilian, a normal boy. Kind of. He's normal in that he keeps secrets and has some hobbies. Those secrets and hobbies, though, are a little unique...and completely, 100% revolve around the crime-fighting family of Gotham. A good friend of the Waynes, Tim finds himself dodging his heroes' attempts to reveal their identities to him in a misguided attempt to keep the status quo. No one seems to want to let it rest, unfortunately for Timothy Drake.

We're Not Driving (How did we get here?) by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime) for ReplacementRobin

Tim stared at his phone, as if that would change what was on the screen.

Dick Grayson @FlyingDGrayson

It took some doing, and in some cases a little blackmail, but we've finally got the whole family together for a movie night! #WayneManor #movienight #familytime #schedulingisanightmare

15 minutes ago

Everybody's Heard (Bird is the Word) by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime)

5 times Batman heard other heroes talking about his wayward brother,

And 1 time they were talking about his son.

Takes a Little Time, Takes a Lotta Twine (To Get Us Back Together) by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime)

Tim was in Gotham.

Tim had pretty specifically been avoiding thinking about Dick as much as possible for the last few weeks. For the last year, really. No need to open that can of carnivorous worms.

Dick had other plans.

RedBird of Friendliness (In the Outlet by the Lightswitch) by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime)

5 times villains had something to say about Tim Drake.

And 1 time he was there to talk back.

buy the ticket, take the ride by Anonymous

Tim had always figured that if he ever woke up in Vegas sans-memory, it would be when he was older than fourteen. But there were some things he couldn’t control, and apparently whatever had happened last night that he didn’t remember was one of them.

Don't Feed the Birds (or they'll keep coming back Writer_loves_tropes

Red Hood is crossing the street one night and he's hit by a car. Tim Drake scrambles out of the passenger seat, but his Uber driver doesn't stick around to face Red Hood's wrath. Tim is 13 years old, so Hood knows he wasn't the driver, but Tim still wants to make up for what happened, so he says he owes Hood a favor. That is the beginning of an unlikely truce that turns into friendship that turns into little brother acquisition.

aka: Tim owes Red Hood a favor and through a series of back and forth favors, he gets adopted by the Red Hood and the Outlaws.

Enjoy!!

[ejlyt]

oh my god 😭

archiveofourown.org/works/51603673

Lesson Learned

By Blacksheeperton

Teen And Up Audiences

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Tim Drake is Joker Jr., Hurt Tim Drake, Kidnapping, Tim Drake's Missing Spleen, Paranoia, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Joker Venom (DCU), Misunderstandings, Hurt No Comfort, Unreliable Narrator, Emotional Manipulation, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Does Not Get a Hug, Tim Drake Lies to Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake Lies, Tim Drake is So Done, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Mediocre Parent Bruce Wayne, Neighbor to Caretaker

Tim didn’t even bother hitting his distress beacon since he hadn’t even carried the thing in months, knowing damn well that no one would come. He had already learned that lesson. Don’t rely on others, especiallynot to save you.

[curious-trickster]

Tim is benched from going out as Red Robin, but somehow still sports a black eye when he gets down to the cave a few days later when Jason is around.

This is after Jason reconciled with the family (Tim, Dick and Damian bullied him and Bruce into getting over themselves and at least be civil which each other. They both still tiptoe around each other but they are fine for now).

Jason would very much like to know who the hell laid hands on Tim when he was supposed to be safe and recovering.

[nana-mizu-shiki]

I'm too lazy and on a fic binge rn so just take this link, it may be unfinished but the inspired by's aren't and all are amazing.

All hurt Tim or Tim Died or Tim allegedly died, idk, pple think he died-ded-ed-ed-ed

[forgotten-daydreamer]

Not sure if I'm going to post another fic tonight, it's past 10.30 pm and I've had ten hours of class, and the same fate awaits for me tomorrow, I'm dead. We'll see if the gods of inspiration decide to bless me in a few minutes.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Blue Ribbon Birdie

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Tim Drake meets Ted Kord at his fifth-grade science fair.

Chapters: 1/1

Characters: Tim Drake, Ted Kord, Janet Drake, Jack Drake

Additional Tag: Bittersweet Ending, Parent-Child Relationship, Hurt Tim Drake, Absent Parents, Angst

Tim stood beside his trifold poster board, rocking back and forth on his heels and toes, waiting for his parents to arrive. They promised they'd come, but it was getting late, and the judges were about to arrive to judge fifth grade. He wasn't the best student when homework assignments were involved, but he put his whole heart and soul into his science project. Tim thought that if he won, his parents would stick around longer than usual to celebrate. He'd worked tirelessly on the project for weeks, hoping it'd sustain their attention. It wasn't like there was a big competition. It was the usual run-of-the-mill volcanoes, clean pennies, solar systems, and potato batteries. He was a shoo-in.

He thought it'd be a regular science fair with teachers for judges, but he was in for a shock the moment the door opened. Ted Kord. Most kids there didn't know who he was, but Tim did. Ted was his tech hero. He was a modern-day inventor and an all-around good guy.

His heart skipped a beat as Ted made his rounds. Tim was in the very back corner, so he knew he'd be one of the last people Ted spoke to if he had time. And oh man, did Tim hope Ted would have time. Had he known Ted Kord would be a judge, he would've worn a better shirt. His mind raced as he tried to hold onto one central thought. His presentation. Tim rolled his shoulders back and went over his speech in his head. He'd given the same speech hundreds of times before to his nanny. He wasn't sure she was listening, though.

Tim wasn't sure if anyone ever listened to him, but it didn't matter. He liked things that way. At least that's what he told himself. But today was different. He'd impress Ted Kord, and then his parents would have to notice him.

Ted Kord approached Tim's table and smiled. Ted reached out to shake Tim's hand and introduce himself, but before he could speak, Tim took a deep breath, and words spilled out of his mouth. "You're Ted Kord! You're the greatest modern-day inventor there is," Tim smiled.

"I don't know about all that," Ted grinned, "It looks like you've brought something extraordinary to the table. Literally. I don't think I've seen a QR code at one of these things before... I'm excited to see what you've got for us today."

Tim took a second breath and shut his eyes before explaining his science project. He explained how he used coding to develop a quick crisis hotline for Gothamites, even providing a way of exiting the site for fear of being caught. He started to doubt himself, wondering if his project was good enough, but the look on Ted Kord's face told him everything he needed to know.

Ted beamed. "May I? I won't be able to think until I scan the code," Ted whispered. Tim nodded and watched as Ted scanned the code and navigated the site. "If this whole elementary school thing doesn't work out, you've got a job with me. Seriously, though, this is impressive... For anyone. I don't know about the other judges, but I'm ready to give you the big blue ribbon and a patent. This is-. I mean, wow... What else can I say?"

The other judges said their piece, but Tim couldn't hear anything after Ted's commendation. Tim could feel the warmth in his cheeks as he smiled. He stared at his feet and nearly burst into tears when Ted knelt on one knee and pinned the first-place ribbon to his shirt. "You should be so proud of yourself. You made a sophisticated website that can be put to use to help people in need. That's the coolest thing in the world," Ted whispered. Tim was so overcome with emotion that he hugged Ted. The sudden display of affection took Ted aback, but he hugged Tim back.

Tim let go and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry-."

"It's fine. Where are your folks? I'd love to meet them." Ted looked around, and so did Tim. They were nowhere to be found. Another broken promise.

"They're out of town on business," Tim answered, "It's okay, though. I'm gonna write them all about it... Can I-? Would it be too much to ask for your autograph so I could show them that I met you?"

"I'll do you one better. Wanna take a picture?" Ted suggested. Tim nodded and smiled despite the pit in the bottom of his stomach. His teacher took pictures of Ted and Tim standing in front of Tim's poster board, and Ted signed the back of Tim's poster board.

Once the school day ended, he rode home, carrying his poster board with tears in his eyes. He kicked himself for being upset, but he thought things would be different this once. The house was empty, except for his nanny. "How'd you do?" she asked. Tim took his ribbon off and set it on the counter. "What's with the long face? You won!"

"I'm just tired," Tim mumbled. She nodded and let him go to his bedroom. He sat on the floor and shed tears, face hidden in folded arms.

His parents came home the day afterward, thinking they were in time for Tim's big day. "Told you we wouldn't miss your big day for anything-."

"It was yesterday," Tim interrupted, "I forgot to remind you that the timezone's a day ahead here..." Janet frowned and elbowed Jack.

"How'd you do?" Jack questioned.

"I got first place for fifth grade, but I'll know how I did for the school-wide part once the judges go over the fourth, fifth, and sixth winners," Tim answered. He couldn't be moved to display any excitement. He wanted to, but he also wanted them to feel bad for missing it. It was selfish and childish, but goddammit, he was the child. And it wasn't fair. They should've been there cheering him on like all the other parents.

"Oh wow! Tim, that's great news!" Janet exclaimed as she showered him with kisses. It made him feel better, but not enough to provoke a smile from him. "That must've been so exciting!"

"It was... I met Ted Kord and everything," Tim whispered.

"Ted Kord was there?" Jack questioned. Tim nodded.

"I got his autograph. It's on the back of my poster board," Tim replied. Jack picked up the poster board and turned it over.

"How about we get ice cream to celebrate?" Jack suggested. Tim shrugged.

Ice cream wouldn't fix this. Everyone's parents showed up. Except his. And he won! If there was any time when a tantrum was warranted, it'd be right then and there. "You guys promised," Tim cried, "You promised that you'd be there no matter what... And everybody's parents were there! Even the parents of the kids with dopey science projects were there! I worked really hard, and nobody showed up! It's not fair! It's not fair!"

Janet and Jack frowned. They weren't sure what to do with Tim's emotional outburst. To them, it seemed sudden. Janet sat on the floor, unsure what to say, so she reached for him. Tim fought her at first, but he eventually gave in. Jack messed up his hair. It didn't change anything because that wasn't what Tim wanted. Tim wanted an apology but wasn't willing to ask for one. It was the first and last time Tim openly displayed his anger and disappointment in them.

[taralaurel]

Febuwhump 2023 | Day #10 | Difficulty Breathing

prompts courtesy of @febuwhump

jealousy, jealousy

And then Damian is knocking a mobster back and hurling himself across the roof toward Tim, a hand outstretched and mouth wide, Tim's name on his lips. At least, Tim is pretty sure it's his own name. He can't exactly hear anything anymore.

His eyes droop.

He sways.

And then, tips over the edge.

OR

After Tim is nearly drowned, he keeps fighting because he feels fine, really - so why is it still so hard to breathe?

OR OR

Tim is saved by the two batfamily members he is pretty sure would rather see him dead.

Tim, nearly dying:

[iriswords]

Febuwhump Day 12 - Can you hear me?

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here

tw: blood and injuries, self-esteem issues, implied past emotional abuse

Fandom: Batman

Words:

Tim has been caught by the Riddler and is forced to play one of his games. He talks to himself as he progresses, certain the comms don't work. On the other end of the line, the Bats hear everything.

--

Tim hates the Riddler. He used to like the man, used to find him clever and funny, even, but all past appreciation for him is now gone. He pounds against the door for what must be the dozenth time, screaming at the Riddler to let him out. As if that would get him somewhere. It is a commonly known fact that villains never do what heroes ask them. There would be no villains and heroes, otherwise. 

“That’s of no use, birdie,” says the Riddler over the speakers in the room. “We’ll proceed to the next part once you’ve calmed down a bit.”

Calmed down a bit? Tim has more than enough reasons to be angry. Not only did he let himself be captured like a fool, and by the Riddler, of all people—Tim has way too many things to do to spend any amount of time trying to solve riddles—but he also sees no way out. The Riddler placed him in a box of a room, with two locked doors. One he entered through. The other has yet to open. 

Tim slumps against the wall and lets himself slide to the ground. The Riddler left him in nothing but his suit, stripped him of anything that could have been useful to his escape. He even took the cape. On his leg, a dark stain grows slowly where Tim was stabbed earlier in the night by the Riddler’s goons. It hasn’t hit anything dangerous, but the bleeding doesn’t show any sign of stopping on its own, and Tim has nothing to stop it with. Carefully, Tim prods at his ribs, which he cracked two nights ago and told no one about. They haven’t gotten worse, but they could use some rest. Unfortunately for them, it doesn’t look like they will get it any time soon.

Tim taps against his comms to activate them. Just like the times he tried before, he gets nothing but static. 

“Red Robin to Oracle,” he tries anyway. “Can you hear me?” Silence is his only answer. “The Riddler’s got me, and I’m not in the mood for playing his games.” 

“Rude,” comes in the Riddler’s voice over the speakers. Tim ignores him. 

“Oracle? Can you hear me?” Still nothing. 

At the same moment, a pastel blue gas whirls out of the airway. Tim instinctively reaches for the rebreather in his belt and remembers he does not have his belt or his rebreather anymore. 

“What is this?” he hisses at the room, hoping the Riddler is still listening and inclined to answer him. 

“I’ve paired up with Scarecrow,” says the Riddler casually, as though this was no information worth mentioning. “He’s decided to expand his horizons and test other aspects of the human mind. As a fellow intellectual, I could only agree.” 

Tim would rather he hadn’t agreed. And what does ‘expand his horizons’ even mean? Knowing Scarecrow, it cannot be anything good. Tim holds his breath until he cannot anymore, then lets the blue gas infiltrate his lungs. It doesn’t taste like anything, so far from the acrid taste of fear toxin, like terror on your tongue warning you about what is to come. 

Tim waits for the effects, tense as a wire. They do not come. The Riddler gives no indication as to whatever toxin this is functioned or not. Instead, the second door slides slowly open. 

“You may proceed to the test,” says the Riddler, and Tim figures he might as well indulge the two villains. If they are satisfied, they could even let him go. He gets up, wincing when he puts too much weight on his injured leg and walks to the door. 

Tim steps into a giant labyrinth, stretching over the whole ground floor of what looks to be two joint warehouses. That the Riddler even managed to pull this out without getting caught is a testimony of Gotham’s police failure—and the vigilante’s failure, too, because they definitely should have found out about this sooner—but what is done is done.

“Are you out of creativity?” asks Tim out loud. 

“Don’t judge my piece of art too quickly, birdie. You may be surprised. All you need to know is that there are no rules. But if you do something I don’t like, you’ll be punished. You’ll know the exit when you reach it.” 

Perfect. Just. Fucking. Perfect. Tim has not had nearly enough coffee to deal with this. It looks like he doesn’t have a choice. 

Before going into the labyrinth, he tries his comms again and receives no more answer. He decides to let them activated, in case they come back to life suddenly, and steps into the labyrinth. 

—

“Red Robin to Oracle,” says Red Robin, and Barbara’s attention shifts from Batman to Red Robin. “Can you hear me?”

“Clear as day,” answers Barbara. “Where are you and what’s going on? We lost your tracker.” 

“The Riddler’s got me and I’m not in the mood for playing his games.” 

Barbara snorts. “Who ever is? Do you have any useful information to make it easier for me to track you down?” 

Tim doesn’t answer her. “Oracle?” he calls. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you very well, Red Robin. Do you know where you are?” No answer. “Red?” Barbara sighs and switches to Batman’s line again. “B, we’ve got a problem.” 

— 

As was to be expected, the labyrinth is filled with traps and riddles. Moving walls and hidden goons waiting to take him out. Tim defeats them all, though not without sustaining further injuries. His left wrist is broken, and his leg is minutely getting worse. He leans on the walls of the labyrinth as he stumbles through it, panting, his mind sluggish from the pain. He fights back the strange urge to cry that has been rising in him for the better part of his journey in the labyrinth.

“I wonder if they’ll notice I’m gone,” he says to himself in a surprising bout of honesty. “Or how long it’s gonna take them.” No one answers him. The silence around him is suffocating. He keeps talking, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his consent. “Maybe they’ll assume I’ll get out myself.” He gives a strangled, bitter laugh. “Well, that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.”

Minutes have stretched out into hours, and each riddle takes Tim more and more time to solve. Every time, frustration builds up in him and tears burn his eyes. 

“Maybe they won’t care. Mom and dad wouldn’t have.”

— 

“Red Robin, can you hear me?” asks Oracle for the thousandth time in the past three hours, since Tim asked for help. And just like those past times, she receives no answer. Everyone is back in the Cave, ready to roam the city as soon as she gets a hint as to where Red Robin is kept. But the Riddler was clever this time, for not even she can find anything leading to Tim. She will, eventually, she knows she will, but the question is, how much time is it going to take? 

“I wonder if they’ll notice I’m gone,” echoes Red’s voice through the speakers in the Batcave. Everyone freezes. Apart from a few pained grunts, it is the first thing Tim has said in hours. “Or how long it’s gonna take them.” Barbara exchanges a confused look with Dick. Is he talking about the Riddler and his goons? Has he escaped them? 

“Maybe they’ll assume I’ll get out myself.” Barbara frowns as the words start to make sense. Over the speakers, Tim laughs darkly. “Well, that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.” 

“Is he—” starts Jason. 

“Talking about us?” finishes Babs. “Yeah, I think he is.” Silence falls over the Cave. Babs shares the sentiment. Why would Tim think they wouldn’t notice or come for him? 

“Maybe they won’t care. Mom and dad wouldn’t have.” 

By her side, Dick makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. Uneasiness grows in Barbara’s chest. They are not supposed to listen to this. 

“Red, can you hear me?” she tries again. Tim doesn’t acknowledge her.

— 

Tim continues to talk to himself, in a desperate and not entirely controlled attempt at distracting himself from his impending doom. Pain shoots up from his leg every time his foot brushes the ground, and he nearly face-planted three times in the past minute. He rounds a corner and finds himself at a dead-end. Tim chokes on a sob. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” he cries to no one. “I just wanted a calm night. Just one fucking night away from assassination attempts and near-death experiences. Is that too much to ask?” 

The Riddler doesn’t answer him. Tim sobs harder, and he doesn’t understand why, all of a sudden, all his emotional control, so good usually, is so thoroughly shot. 

“Am I really that fucking insufferable that no one wants to keep me around?” The words fall from his mouth without his permission. “Maybe mom and dad were right when they said I was impossible to love.” Maybe everyone was right when they tried to leave. Maybe he should stop clinging to them like a pathetic leach and just remove himself so they won’t have to. Maybe, maybe, maybe—

The tears stop as abruptly as they came, Tim’s chest heaving from the remnants of sobs. He dries his tears with a shaky hand and pulls his mask back on. Whatever this episode was, he’s glad there was no one around to witness it. 

— 

“Am I really that fucking insufferable that no one wants to keep me around?” asks Tim, and Babs clenches her jaw. She doesn’t dare glance at Dick, still by her side. She knows what she’ll see. Eyes full of tears, cheeks red and wet, face distorted by sorrow. She knows he blames himself, and she also knows he isn’t entirely free of blame. But she cannot comfort him, not when she can barely swallow around the lump in her own throat. The Cave fell into an uneasy silence when Tim first started crying, the sound so unusual to all of them. Tim is all cynicism and calculated boredom. He does not cry. 

“Maybe mom and dad were right when they said I was impossible to love.” 

Dick lets out an audible sob and curls up on himself, a hand clasped tightly over his mouth. Babs risks a glance at the rest of the Cave. Bruce’s face, bare from the cowl, has twisted into a constipated expression, his way of conveying regret and sorrow. Cass hovers silently by his side, twitchy in a way she usually never is. Farther in the Cave, Jason is pacing, hands fisted in his hair. As his body turns toward her, she catches a glimpse of bright, unnaturally green eyes. Damian, for his part, is rooted to the spot near the Medbay, wide eyes fixed on the speaker. His expression is a careful mask, but Babs can see the way his hands shake slightly where they hang limply at his sides. 

“Red,” Barbara tries once again. She cannot help the way exhaustion sips into her voice. “Can you hear me?” 

— 

Tim misses the goon who comes out of nowhere and misses the bat swung at him. He does not dodge and does not defend himself. It hits his temple full force, a skull-shattering blow that sends him sprawling to the ground. He lands on his broken wrist and the pain rips a howl from him. His vision whitens out for a moment, and he comes to panting and sobbing, cradling his injured wrist to his chest. The goon is nowhere to be found. Tim should be glad, he guesses, that they didn’t stay around to beat him up more. 

He straightens up with difficulty, dizzy from the blow, the pain, and the blood loss. His breath itches with silent, uncontrollable sobs. Tim tries to get to his feet, but his knee gives out beneath him and he falls back to the floor. He curls up against the wall of the labyrinth, all of his resolve gone. 

“Please,” he whispers to no one. He has never felt more like a child. “Please someone, just come.” 

In his head, Jane Drake scoffs disdainfully. 

— 

“I have an address,” announces Babs. Bruce, who has been anxiously pacing the Cave ever since Tim cried out in pain, turns abruptly towards her, already putting his coal back on. 

“Where,” he growls, more order than question. The second Barbara gives him the address, Bruce is gone, closely followed by his sons. 

“They’re coming, Red,” says Barbara into the comms. No one answers her. 

@febuwhump

Part 2

[wellensittich01]

Dick 9 times out of 10 failing to hide a severe injury from the rest of the batfam because without fail when he’s tired or drugged or generally not firing on all cylinders his native accent comes out as thick as the day he met Bruce.

- - -

Bruce: Dick come down for a check up I saw you take that hit for Tim.

Dick, halfway towards the cave exit and still going, in the quietest voice possible: im fine

Bruce: Say squirrel and you can leave.

Dick:

Bruce:

Jason:

Tim:

Damien:

Dick: …skweeerrehl.

Jason: Get him boys.

[momachan]

"The thing is-- what scares me most-- I'm always Robin. Ever since Batman gave me the cowl, I... That's who I see myself to be. That's who I've been for all the importants moments of my life. But in that room... it felt good to let go. To embrace the pain. Was Spoiler right? Am I punishing myself? Because, hidden under all of this is the real question-- Who am I if I'm not a Robin?"

DC Pride: The New Generation (DC Cultural Anthologies (2021). Tim Drake Special. "Sum Of Our Parts."

[ditzyredrobin]

Basic Instincts

AIless Whumptober Day 25

“How could you?!”

-

“Damn it, Replacement! How the fuck could you?” The door to the bathroom was kicked open with enough force to hit the wall behind it, effectively rattling Tim out of the static coating his brain. Hood’s voice was cold and tinny coming through the helmet's voice synthesizers.

Tim let out a throaty growl, baring his teeth the vigilante, wishing his hands would move enough to throw a whirlybird and effectively andr get the fuck out of here. But everything was leaden, his fingers were stuck, the needle pierced through the gash, mid suture.

Everything had begun to fuzz out around the edges, whether that be from blood loss, sleep dep, or because he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Any combination all worked out to the same solution: a bad patrol. His body hadn’t seemed to get the memo that he needed to have this taken care of yesterday and get the hell out of dodge.

Tim had managed to cut away enough of his suit to expose the gash on his thigh, it was long and deep, and on hell of a bleeder (Sheet metal and explosions don’t tend to mix).

Hood’s sudden intrusion just kicked his brain back in gear.

Hood snarled a throaty growl back and stepped into the bathroom, giving absolutely zero shits.

In a few, long strides, Hood was across the bathroom, heavy boots squelching as in a grotesque pool of blood puddled on the stark white linoleum. The room was drenched in the stench of pennies and distressed omega.

Tim pressed himself as far as he could into the crevice between the toilet and the wall.

Hood towered over him dark and looming, breathing heavy like he’d just run a marathon, and Tim’s heart roared in his chest. Even through his helmet, his gaze felt predatory, stalking him as he moved, taking in the sitch.

The helmet masked Hood’s scent, setting Tim on edge when he couldn’t get a read on the vigilante. Still, he could feel the rage radiating off of him.

This was bad—very, very bad.

He couldn’t see his eyes but he dared to venture, if he could, they would be toxic green.

“Baby bird, we had a whole fucking talk about this bullshit not all that long ago. Remember? Where you promised we were done with alla this shit?” Hood crouched down in front of him looking like he was ready to yank Timmy out of his hiding spot. Tim was not going to let that happen—Tim managed, by the grace of whatever being may or may not exist, to get his arm to work enough to release a whirlybird from his gauntlet at Hood.

Hood swore, dodging just before getting a face full of throwing disk. ”What the fuck?” He sounded exponentially more pissed. Shit.

Tim doesn’t respond, doesn’t think, just acts, glancing from Hood to the door, formulating a plan. He was effectively caught between a rock and a hard place with a body working on 5% but damnit he wasn’t going out without a fight.

Glaring at Hood, Tim made the tension ease out of his shoulders, his hands going limp at his side.

“I’m not here to hurt cha. I just wanna help, okay?”

No, not okay.

Hood held out a hand to help Tim out of his, effectively taking the bait.

With flawless acting, Tim takes his hand, using it to leverage his way out, squeezing past Hood. In less than a blink, Tim contorts, maneuvering his aching body in a low dive out the door. Tim grit his teeth when he the maneuver pulled on his half done stitches, but he didn’t have time to linger.

Hood followed him into the bedroom, cursing and swearing. “What the fuck?” He sounded pissed.

He spun around delivering a flying kick that Hood ducks, sending pain radiating through his thigh. Black spots cover his vision but he can’t stop, he has to fight, this is not going to be another tower incident.

Hood is on the offense, blocking each of Tim’s blows, a blocked uppercut, another blocked kick. For as hard as he tried, his moves didn’t work and Tim could feel himself running out of steam.

Things came to a head when Tim’s leg finally gave out in him, the tendons unstable and shaking under his weight. His knees buckled and Hood was there to catch him.

Tim flinched, expecting a hit that never came.

“Stop moving dammit.” Hood hissed instead, lowering him to the dark hardwood floors. Tim struggled weakly in his grip without making much headway. His hands were firm but gentle, holding a hand to his shoulder effectively pining him in place like it was nothing.

“Let me go.” Tim snarled, breathing heavy. Tim weakly tried to wriggle but Hood was having none of it. He had a churning feeling in his stomach and the pain in his thigh was back tenfold. His body refused to cooperate but he was not going to give up.

He was not going to lay down and take another beating from the Red Hood.

Hood pressed harder, ignoring him. “Why are you fighting me? I’m not going to hurt you.”

(Yeah, right, likely story)

Tim bared his teeth, repeating. “Let me go.” it was more forceful this time. His vision was growing darker, the harder he fought. His fingertips were cold and numb and he couldn’t feel his toes.

The masked vigilante ignored him, pressing his free hand to the side of his helmet to activate the comm. “Hood to O, I found him and he’s bleedin’ bad.” Hood used his free hand to palpate the hash and Tim screamed, harsh and broken. Anything other words were lost to the agony, his vision growing dark.

There was muffled swearing and Hood put his weight into the injury and Tim lost his ability to breath.

Darkness dragged him down.

-

Tim came to slowly with all the haziness and heaviness that came with being on the good stuff. His aches are a distant thing, there in the distance buzzing like a housefly. Annoying but disregardable.

His thoughts are sluggish, slipping away like sand through his fingers. He hummed, leaning back in the warm, soft things supporting all of his aches and pains supported by soft things. He can smell his pack.

The pack nest.

It takes a couple of tries to peel his eyes open, lashes crusted over with sleep but when he finally does, everything swims in front of him. It feels wrong, his stomach churning. He closes his eyes again.

He couldn’t help it, a small, desperate keen escaped, calling for his pack.

There is a flurry of movement and the solid heat cushion his head responds with a chesty rumble. It takes a moment to recognize the scent of their pack alpha, herbaceous, musky, radiating safe.

There were a handful of other scents surrounding him and hands on him checking him over.

“You’re safe, baby bird.” A sweet baritone crooned, running fingers through his hair. He smelled clean, of mint and tea tree and alpha. Dick.

On the other side he caught whiffs of sweet and spicy and camellias—Cass.

And…and gunmetal and brimstone and the underlying honeyed scent of omega—Jason.

Jason, shit. Hood.

Tim sat up quickly, or tried to, but was held in place by a firm hand on his chest and the disgruntled grunt of the pack alpha. There were more hands shushing him, holding him in place.

He keened again calling for their omega—the man he had tried to fight back in his safe house.

There was muttered cursing and shuffling and grumbles of disapproval before Jason’s scent became stronger, the pack nest dipping beside him. Dick’s nimble fingers in his hair were exchanged for Jason’s, larger and stronger.

“Easy, baby bird, I gotcha.” Tim could have cried.

Tim cracked an eye open again and things swam a little less, meeting Jason’s look of concern. “I’m sorry,” the younger boy said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Jason sighed, carding his fingers through his hair. His expression softened the younger omega. “I know, sweets. It was an accident wasn’t it?”

Tim swallows hard, and nods, trying to ignore the prickling in his eyes. ”I didn’t mean to do it.”

He had been running on basic instincts, the what had once been. It had been almost two years since Bruce was back and things had begun to settle into place.

Jason wasn’t the enemy. Jason was pack—he was his mate. The penthouse was their home.

He was shushed again, warm gun-calloused fingers detangling from his hair, finding and cupping his cheek. Tim leaned into his touch. “It’s alright, we can about it talk later.” He promised, running his thumb along his cheek bone. “Sleep now.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58879633

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Just a Kid Next Door - Chapter 2

Bruce is finally back from being stuck in the time stream. Tim managed to save Batman and his loved ones. Now it is time for Tim to go home and rest. But the problem is that, Tim has no home. Or that's what he thinks so.

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 2---------------------------------

The first thing Bruce sees after opening his eyes is a flash of blinding light, followed by a very blurry face. The person had black hair and light eyes and was calling out his name, that too in a very panicked voice.

His first instinct was to become alert. Even in his dizzy state, he tried his best to observe and analyze his surroundings.

It took Bruce a minute to realize that the person in front of him is his son. The person is one of his kids from his brood of children.

But Bruce was not able to figure out which one though. It was maybe due to his very blurry eyesight or his very concussed head, he concluded.

One of his hand reached out to touch his son’s face. He might not be able to see clearly to find which one of his kid is in front of him, but he could definitely find out through touch.

He first touched his kid’s face and then went to feel his shoulder.

‘Mm, Too fair to be Duke, little shorter and eyes too blue to be Jason, too tall to be Damian and too built to be Tim. Oh, it must be Dick.” he finally concluded.

Bruce and Batman are two different people.

Batman is a powerful vigilante. He channels his grief and pain into protecting his city, Gotham. He’s a master of countless disciplines and he strike fear into the heart of criminals to bring them to justice.

But Bruce is first and foremost, a Father. Bruce Wayne, the Gotham’s prince (not a Prince any more though), the billionaire playboy and philanthropist is a Father. His first priority will always be his Family. His family is the most important thing to him, whether biological or chosen.

And in this moment, he was not Batman. He was just Bruce. A Father.

Bruce missed his kids so much. He still don’t know how many days or even months he had actually missed, but he’s more than glad that he is back. He is not going to let any of his kids and Alfred out of his sight for the next few days.

He then heard Dick’s voice, rough, like he’s been crying for quite some time now.

“Shit, B. You woke up. Do you- you want me to call anyone, like – like, shit …um like Clark or someone. Wait B, um…lemme”

‘Huh, he sounds very strange.’ he thought.

Suddenly he feels a hand under his head and sees a thumb and a forefinger opening his eyes wider. He then realized that he’s being checked for concussion.

“Oh, you are definitely concussed.”

“Grn” he groaned.

He reached out and embraced his kid. He don’t want to miss anymore of his time by waiting. He is going to smother all his kids with hugs until they put up a fight with him.

Dick went still for a few seconds. And then he started to weep, his whole body wracked by sobs.

As much he tries to be a good parent, Bruce is never really the one for dealing with emotions in a healthy manner. And he will never forgive himself for passing on that trait to his children, because his children rarely cried to cope up with feelings. Hence Dick’s sudden outburst threw Bruce off guard.

“Oh, I-I missed y-you so much B, please don’t ever leave us ever again. Don’t leave me al-alone, please. Everyone thought you died, Bruce.” His whole body was shaking.

Bruce’s heart ached. Each of his kid’s sob was like a dagger piercing his heart. Bruce never wished for his children to go through the same trauma he did as a kid when his parents died. And yet, here he is.

“But I didn’t be-believe them. I somehow knew you were alive. I-I never stopped searching for you”

Bruce hugged him even harder. He knew his children were smart, but he was doubtful that they would find out the minuscule clues he left and put two and two together.

But he had hoped.

He never lost hope in his family. He knew they would eventually save him.

And he is proud that he wasn’t wrong.

Dick was now quiet, but Bruce can still feel him crying.

“It’s okay chum, don’t worry. I’m here and I’m not going to leave you alone, sweetheart. Never.” said Bruce, his voice sounding foreign to himself.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Hm-mm, I’m going to bore you all with my facts about dinosaurs. You are going to love every minute of it.” He chided.

Dick let out a hearty chuckle. Bruce was glad to have elevated the mood.

They were occupied by comfortable silence for the next few minutes, Bruce lying on the med bay bed with Dick’s head on his chest and his arms embracing the boy. He felt dizzy, and his eyes started to droop due to his tiredness.

“You are my son, Dick. I’m never going to leave you alone. Never.” He murmured, before falling into deep slumber.

What he failed to notice before going to sleep was, Tim going very still, almost still like a rock.

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

Rain pounded the streets of Gotham. The flooded sewers and subways forced the residents to walk in the rain, soaking wet. The Bat Signal almost invisible due to the cloudburst.

Gotham is a busy city. Social workers working days to fix the city, young CEOs and entrepreneurs walking hurriedly in the crack of dawn and the elites from the nicer parts of the town attending Galas after Galas to keep up their appearances and earn fortunes.

But the City is extremely busy at nights though. Stealth bodies clad in darker shades of Kevlar and spandex can be seen jumping from building to building, fighting rouges and lurking in the shadows, protecting the city.

But nights like these makes it extremely difficult to do their job. Along with the rain came the criminals.

Gotham is a busy City. Not even the dangerous calamities stopped the rogues in the slightest.

That’s why the Batman and the newest Robin can be seen launching their fists and using their acrobatic skills to fight the Penguin and his men

“You cannot catch me, Batman” Oswald snickered. He used his bladed Umbrella to fight against Batman

The Robin was using his Katana to block the blows while performing various impressive fighting techniques thought by the league to fight the Penguin’s men. They stood no chance against the young warrior.

Batman leaped from rooftop to rooftop while throwing his Batrangs at The Penguin, which he was able to block with his shield like umbrella.

The sound of bullet being fired dominated the swishing sounds of cape and the men’s grunts of pain. Many lost their stance and put down their weapon due to the sudden gunshot. Batman used this distraction to jump on Oswald and knock him down.

From out of the shadows emerged a built figure, clad in dark grey Kevlar, brown leather jacket and a very contrasting red helmet which hid the vigilante's entire face, pointing one of his many guns to the sky. The red Bat symbol on his chest glimmering due to droplets of rain.

“I thought you stopped killing” gruffed Batman.

“Aw, you’re welcome, Goldie. I will save you at any given chance. And, don’t be narcissistic. It’s a rubber bullet. And I did not shoot anyone by the way.” The Red Hood replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“tt, you did nothing Hood.” Robin came and stood next to the Batman after tying up the men for the officers.

“Be grateful, Gremlin”

“tt” Robin tutted, shaking his head.

“What are you doing here anyways, Hood?  I thought Crime alley is your area.” Batman asked, wiping off the blood from his lips.

“Surprise, seems like our cases are connected after all. I had an intel that Penguin and Black mask are working on some shady stuff together”

“Oh” came out of Dick’s mouth.

Their conversation was interrupted by sudden swoosh of wind. This alerted the three to jump into their fighting stance.

“Fucking hell, Superman. You could have warned us it was just you.” Said Red Hood, relaxing.

“Sorry, but I have an important news.” Replied Superman, eyeing the three of them carefully.

“Batman is back. We saved him from time stream. Wonder Woman and Flash managed to bring him back to the Batcave.”

[froldgapp]

Tim felt thin enough an entity that he might pass right through Dick and diffuse into nothing. The funny thing was; he was aware distantly, academically, of how much he could hate himself. But he'd found ways of ignoring those shadowy feelings. He was aware too that though he laughed off the comments of cold eyes and blank face and automaton manner, that the Tim of before wouldn’t recognise the Tim of now, and that thought destabilised him in ways that terrified him to the point of madness sometimes.

Tim emotional whump? Don't mind if I do.

[2danesand1cat]

Bruce Wayne calling any of his children sweetheart.

Especially if they are hurt or crying or otherwise distraught.

That’s it. That’s the post.