#like is it for when tim asks hey kon do you have a flashlight

[mammutblog]

thinking about kon’s thigh bag 24/7

[crow-aeris]

A Reverse-Robin Wingfic / To Brace Upon Benign Feathers

It starts kinda crack-ish, but then gets kinda emotional-y towards the end ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

===

"TIM!"

He jerked awake, blinking at the ceiling in confusion as his brain slowly registered where he was.

"Tim!" the voice came again, followed by a body slamming into his chest.

"Oomf!" Tim grunted as the air was violently knocked out of his chest. With a tight expression, he reached up and carded a hand through his brother's hair, "Morning, Dick."

"Hi!" the newest addition to the family chirped brightly, his sapphire eyes glowing as bright as a 200,000 lumens flashlight. Brighter than the sun, even. The blue reminds him of Kon and the alien's blue eyes that looked like a wolf-rayet star.

"What time is it?" Tim mumbled, wincing as the five-year-old crawled over him, digging his knee into Tim's kidney and accidentally stepping on his wing.

"It's time for you to get your a- butt in gear and move," Jason called from the door. “Damian’s making breakfast, so Duke asked us to come and wake you.”

Tim groaned, dropping his head back until it banged loudly against the headboard. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough, he could go back to sleep.

Dick cheered when he spotted Jason, the Ficher's Lovebird's bright red-yellow-green wings flaring out as he launched himself at the teen.

Jason grunted as Dick slammed into him but managed to keep his grip steady.

"Hurry up and get ready," Jason said. The cardinal shifted, folding his bright crimson wings against his back as Dick tucked his face into Jason's neck, "B said he's gonna take up to the zoo."

"Zoo! I wanna go to the zoo!" Dick's head shot up as he clutched Jason's shirt.

"I know, Dickie," Jason rolled his eyes fondly, "that's why we're going."

"Okay!" the fledgling chirped, "Tim!"

"Yes?" He lifted his head from the pillow with a slow and tired blink. What he'd give to have Kon here right now.

"Get! Up!" Dick demanded. Jason, the traitor, just laughed. "Or else I'll tell Dami to come get you!"

The falcon hummed, waiting until his brothers disappeared from the doorframe before flipping over and shoving his face back into the pillow.

Everything ached, his back especially, and it wasn't because of Kon, okay, Jason? Tim had been fighting Killer Croc last night, and that bastard got lucky and slammed Tim against a brick wall. His right arm was a huge-ass bruise, and he was not excited to get up.

Maybe if he pretended to be dead, Damian would leave him be...

Who is he kidding? If the harpy eagle was willing to drag a pit-crazed Tim from the brink of suicide, then he was more than willing to dunk Tim in the pits.

Just as he was about to doze off, there was a knock on the doorframe.

"What?" Tim -whined- groaned, not bothering to lift his head from the pillow.

"Hey, Ducky," an amused voice called.

He pouted, turning his head to glare balefully at Duke. The mourning dove smiles, lifting a brow in amusement. Traitor.

"Leave me alone, Duke," Tim grumbled, thankful that Alfred had all the pillows and sheets in Tim's room reinforced since the last time he had a Pit-episode... It had been a whole thing...

Duke raised another eyebrow, mimicking Alfred's patented Disappointed Stare™ quite successfully. Tim doesn't doubt that, at this point, Duke could get even Damian to bend to his will.

And just like Alfred's own stares, Tim, frustratingly, folded under pressure.

For fuck's sake- he was supposed to Wraith, the dead spirit of the Bat's second Shadow revived and out to hunt ne'er do wells as well as the Bats themselves- his goddamn reputation!

"What reputation, Tim?" Duke laughed before strolling over and yanking the covers off of him.

God, Tim hates it when he says things out loud. A side effect of being locked away by Ra's in an attempt to break his spirit or whatever.

He grumbled as Duke hauled him up and out of bed. Annoyingly, the Lazarus pits healed his shitty eyes, that one scar he got from following Shadow around, and the gash in his throat, but not his fucking height. Instead, Tim has to be stuck in this measly five-foot-seven-inch body, while Duke, Bruce, and Damian all got to be fucking six-foot-plus behemoths.

A shake snapped Tim out of his misery.

"Did you even hear what I said?" Duke asked incredulously.

"No," Tim huffed, "I was distracted and decided not to listen to your stupid voice saying stupid stuff."

"Says that one in air jail," Duke replied smugly. Shit, he's right. That fucker. "Tim, I can practically hear you cussing me out. Keep doing this, and I'll have Bruce and Damian hide your coffees and Red Bulls."

"W-"

"And your monsters."

Tim gasped, "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me. Now go get ready. We leave in an hour, and you don't even have a shirt on, Tim."

"It's a fashion choice," he hissed, "you wouldn't understand because you're stupid!"

Duke sighed, plopping Tim onto the floor. He wasn't even surprised when the falcon went boneless, turning into a limp pile of loose limbs and angry hissing, "You're such a child, Ducky."

"This is because I'm gay, isn't it!" Tim demanded, snapping to his feet and flaring out his wings, "This is homophobia!"

"Of course, it is," Duke drily responded before he turned and made for the door, "I'll send Damian up in ten minutes. If you haven't gotten ready by then, I'm allowing him to dress you however he likes."

Duke closed the door gently, but he might as well have slammed it from how ruffled it left him.

Honestly, the gall! How has he, Wraith, Ra's desired heir to the fucking Damon's Fang, fallen so far from his formidable glory?

Nevertheless, Tim forced himself to get ready. He brushed his teeth and washed his face- even "Serial Killers" need clear skin, but was killing fifteen of Black Mask's and the Joker's most trusted really considered killing? Bruce was just overreacting!- and then threw on a short-sleeved shirt, hoodie over that, washed-out ripped jeans, and called it a day.

Tim groaned, desperately craving coffee, caffeine, or something to stave off the complete and utter exhaustion pooling in his head. This was terrible, horrible, and a vile thing to do.

"Timothy," Damian said from where he stood at the table, a plate held in the eagle's hands. He was wearing a bright pink apron covered with flour, and Jason was behind him, wearing a matching pink apron and holding a plate, too. "You finally decided to show your face and detach yourself from that hovel."

"If you want, I could always go back to my so-called Hovel," Tim tilted his head in a challenge.

"Tt," Damian scoffed before sliding a plate to Tim's spot, "Seeing as you have already decided to show your face, and Richard somehow tolerates you, it would be more efficient if you remain here."

Dick was already seated with a glass of strawberry milk, and his pancakes were half-finished and absolutely drowning in maple syrup. Bruce was directly across from Dick, and his pancakes were far more respectable with butter, syrup, bacon, and a cup of coffee. Duke was beside Dick, and he had a plate with fresh fruit, powdered sugar, and a glass of orange juice. Alfred sat at the head of the table with his English breakfast, tea, and a proud smile. Cass was next to Bruce with a bowl of fruit, orange juice, toast, and multiple slices of stolen bacon.

Hesitantly, Tim sat down at the end of the table as Jason rushed over to fill the empty chair between Tim and Duke. Damian, the bull-headed son of a bitch -that bitch being Bruce, because Tim would never call Talia a bitch- decided the best seat wasn't going to be next to Cass, but instead the seat directly in front of Tim. Not in front of Jason, but in front of Tim.

Instead of confronting his feelings like a well-adjusted member of society should, Tim decided the best course of action was to examine his plate of pancakes.

It had fudge drizzled over the top, dusted lightly with powdered sugar, and freshly diced strawberries were placed like a crown with their leaves carefully removed and tossed in a barely noticeable syrup. There was a small bowl of strawberry-lemon zest jam on the edge of Tim's plate, and he could tell that whoever positioned it was diligent. Not a single speck of powdered sugar got onto the outside of the tiny bowl...

Every part of this plate looked like it had been prepared in a five-star restaurant. What more was that this was exactly the same kind of pancakes Damian would make for him as an apology back when Tim was Shadow...

Suddenly, his eyes were beginning to sting, and Tim could feel Damian's stare carve holes into the top of his head. And then, Damian slid over a cup of steaming coffee, and just by looking at it, he knew Damian had made it the way Tim loved.

It was a declaration, an apology, and a promise all wrapped in a simple breakfast…

He took a deep breath and cut into his pancakes, forcing himself to hold back tears as his family chattered around him.

Even after everything that has happened, his flock still accepted him.

Even after everything, Tim was still loved.

[thattimdrakeguy]

Okey! Some Autistic Timmy thoughts, coming right up! (Most of these are self projection lol😅)

1. HATES chalk. Like really, really hates it. The texture is the WORST it gets on his hands and he HATES it so so so much. He touches chalk and immediately has the urge to rip his skin off. The first time he touched chalk as a toddler he actually started crying.

2. Needless to say, his life is pretty unstructured. This doesn't really bother him, HOWEVER, if his "suiting up in the cave" routine is interrupted it WILL mess up his entire day. If he's suiting up at home or anywhere else it's fine, but for some reason he's particular about the cave routine. Luckily Bruce is also a very routine oriented person so it's not a big deal, but when someone else is in charge and it changes it bothers him. He can still function perfectly well, he just gets more anxious than usual.

3. Kraft mac n cheese is his comfort food. He measures out the ingredients exactly so it will taste the same every time.

4. Watched a documentary about ocean creatures when he was 8 and memorized the whole thing. Can and will tell you the creepiest and most disturbing facts from it if prompted to.

5. Rocks in his chair when he's sitting and thinking, to the point where the floor around his desk has scratch marks. He's fallen over and bonked his head many times and it drives Alfred insane.

6. This one is actually supported by canon to an extent but I think he really likes labelling things with the Robin symbol. It's fun and easy to draw and it gives him a little serotonin boost every time he see's one of his things labeled like that. Bruce noticed it and always makes sure to label all of Tim's new gear before he gives it to him. To make things easier to distinguish, of course. Because it would definitely be so easy to mistake the primary colored xx small clothes and gadgets for belonging to anybody else.

Sorry, not all of these are directly related to autism I guess. I just put things that I see commonly in myself and other autistic people that I thought he might also do. Love your blog btw!

I honestly really love these to be honest, cause I can really easily picture Tim doing all of these kinds of stuff. Like it fits in amazingly well with his personality. I mean I don’t know about the chalk and Mac and Cheese, but that’s purely because I don’t think you could tell that from a personality, but you can get what I mean lol. It’s all great.

I actually had the Robin one myself too, at least kind of. Maybe not a label specifically on everything, but I can picture him just having a Robin symbol of everything that’s his rather it was bought that way like the symbol on his shirt or a backpack, to the labels and tags on other things because Robin just means so much to him. 

Now it’s got me imagining it on LITERALLY everything, like Dick, Cass, Babs maybe even, and Timmy himself all having a sleepover party in the living room or cave or something, and someone nearly grabs Tim’s pillow and blanket and he gets jumpy like “Hey, no, that ones mine!”, which isn’t even tellable at first because this ones just his plain pillow and blanket, not his merch one. But he yoinks it out of their hand and shows them a personally made label in the form of a little tiny tag on them both.

If you put out all of the Batkids stuff in front of you (I’m imagining like all neat and folded and each person’s stuff is in their own little group next to the other people’s stuff’s also grouped), it’d be so obviously Tim’s (I mean besides no one else being able to fit into his tiny tiny clothes). Like “Okay, Robin flashlight, Robin lunchbox, Robin jammies, Robin blanket, Robin socks, Robin shirt, Robin labeled short pants, Robin cap, Robin band-aids, Robin sweater, Robin jacket, Robin briefs, Robin wrist watch, Robin nightlight, Robin label on the grappling hook, Robin label in the boots and as a shape on the sole, Robin toothbrush, Robin hairbrush, Robin--okay hmm. Who’s is this?”

Not that he wears all of it at once, but just having the option makes him unreasonably happy, and he can’t even really explain it to a Dick or Cass who may ask, but it just does.

Dick sarcastically asks him: “Was the Robin identity and costume not enough?”

When there’s a mess somewhere, you can always tells what’s Tim’s to be able to give it to him.

I also really like the one about his routine cause it feels like that thing that would just nag at Tim and he can’t really explain it. Like everything's going well, he has everything, but the school changes the schedules for everyone and Tim’s just uncomfortable for the rest of the day. He just doesn’t like it.

Ends up making him do these little checks to make sure he has all of his gadgets too, and Bruce could’ve sworn he checked like twice already on everything, but Tim just has to do it or else he’ll be upset for the rest of his night.

Same with Y.J. when he goes to Mount Justice he also had to do these routines and Bart and Kon catch on and try to mess it up sometimes when they’re feeling extra pranky, but I figure either Cassie or maybe even Slobo of all people figures out why Tim always seems perpetually grumpy or upset at them afterwards, so they eventually knock it off. Included with an apology even if it does sound half-assed at first.

Like I could go all day with the little visions popping in my head with the headcanons, but I really like it.

Oh! And thank you for enjoying my blog! That's amazing of you.