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iphoenixrising · 3 years ago

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DickTim Week Day 4: Dark!Dick and Vampire!Tim

So. So. *Steeples fingers* this may or may not be the fic for you. Yet another combination prompt because the people on the Capes and Coffee Discord are fucking enablers. You know who you are.

Warnings for: captivity, blood-letting, missing-in-time Bruce

The hidden bunker is outside the city limits of Gotham, a perfect place to stay off the grid.

Officer Grayson makes the drive with the radio on WKKG, All Gotham, All the Time. He moves his head to the beat of the pop song blaring over the line.

The outside of the abandoned gas station looks positively deserted and if they were any more rural, tumble weeds would be rolling around the decrepit gas pumps.

Officer Grayson parks around the back of the building out of sight and grabs the paper bags from the passenger side, holds his cup of coffee in the same hand, whistles to himself as he gets out of the police cruiser.

A complex locking system on a seemingly outdated walk-in freezer opens up to an elevator that is decidedly the newest fixture in the place.

He hums the chorus of the pop song from the radio on the way down, small smile on his face reflecting back at him from the mirrored doors.

The underground is a completely different world.

Apparently constructed to be a bunker, the basement is lead-lined and spacious with all processes set-up to stay off the grid, perfect for his needs. He has a separate power supply, a separate HVAC system, a security system with nearly imperceptible cameras to make sure no one, no one gets close enough to the property without alerting him immediately.

And he certainly doesn’t want anyone finding his personal mission here.

Officer Grayson puts one of the grocery bags down on a table littered with notebooks and read-outs he’d left the last time after he’d gotten samples. He sips on his coffee as he walks around the first room, lit only by the emergency lights at the top of the low-slung ceiling, and turns on the power, turns on the lights in the rest of the bunker.

The beeps behind him are the locks resetting on the elevator, the only way out.

Dick is still humming when he passes into the next room, blocked on either end with thick, metal doors complete with a complex locking mechanism and impressive alarm system. The many tables in this room are filled with laboratory equipment, a biotechnician’s playground.

Half-completed analyses are still running on the impressive screens mounted overhead, status bar at 68%.

Five-gallon buckets under the tables with black Sharpie denote chemical names with dates scribbled hastily below.

Dick sips his coffee as he looks up at the running totals, makes mental notes, compares previous tests and results.

It’s discouraging, but Dick just sighs to himself. Of all vigilantes in Gotham, he’s the optimist, and he knows that each failure will just bring him closer and closer to success. He just can’t give up.

Bruce is counting on them.

With his coffee and bag in one hand, he lets the analysis churn, and enters his code in the next door, then places a palm print on the pad outside. Leans down so his eye scan can be completed.

Unlike the other rooms, the lights come on the second the door fully unlocks and opens to allow Dick entrance.

The reason for that is to turn on the intense sun lamps to further weaken the figure strapped down to the gurney in the center of the room, strategically lessening the possibility of an attack.

Dick puts the bag and his coffee down on the only table in the room.

“Sorry I didn’t come yesterday. Rupert Thorne had a big shipment planned and we were up late tracking it,” his voice is light and cheery, his smile wide and white. He comes to the side of the gurney, takes note of the slight burning smell that always seems to permeate the room no matter how much he tries to avoid it by making sure there’s always something between skin and pure silver. Struggling dislodges whatever he uses, so the result is the smell of burning flesh.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment, looking down at Timmy’s closed eyes and painfully pale face.

His frown deepens when Tim Drake rolls his head over to face the wall instead.

Silver chains wrap his arms, legs, neck, and torso, rendering him utterly immobile. Holy relics hang over the gurney as an added safety measure. He’s completely naked under a flimsy sheet.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” He asks softly. “I’m letting Alfred pick up Dami so I can spend some extra time with you today.”

IVs are grotesquely hooked into each major artery, set on slow drain. The multiple blood bags hooked under the gurney show the slow trickle as the bags fill to a crawl.

Tim’s violet-blue eyes crack open a sliver, but he doesn’t look away from the wall, away from freedom.

“That isn’t very nice,” Dick’s tone stays soft, yet firm. “You know what I’m trying to do here.”

The sound of Tim trying to swallow is heard over the soft mechanical beeping, the hum of working equipment. “You know how important you are to this, Timmy. I don’t like how you keep refusing to be a team player.” Dick pauses just a moment, eyes narrow, “is this still about Damian being Robin now? Because you know how many times we’ve been over this.”

Tim closes his eyes again, a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“Well, I think you’ve been sulking about it long enough,” Dick brusquely throws the sheet out of the way to show IVs, burns, and the network of complicated blood vessels below deathly pale skin. “You knew even before you went to Iraq my choices were the best for everyone, not just you.”

Dick checks all the leads, makes sure the drip is slow. He doesn’t so much as lift up the solid silver chains and nudge them with the cloth he keeps underneath, the point of it is to try and keep Tim’s skin from burning, temporarily cauterizing his veins and killing the supply. The last time the chains were displaced this much, Dick had made the mistake of lifting one, giving Tim enough power to bare his fangs and lunge. Since then, the chains have stayed put, only shuffled around a little.

“And if you would have just listened to me and stayed in Gotham, you wouldn’t have been caught by vampires in the first place. You know that, don’t you? If you would have worked with us at home, Ra’s would have never taken that much of an interest and led them right to you. Heck, you might still be alive and have your spleen.”

Shaking his head in frustration at all the events from last year when Bruce’s body was brought back, when the Battle for the Cowl had forced him to raise his hand against Jason again and break his heart over Little Wing again, when he knew Tim didn’t need any more mentorship, didn’t need the support and encouragement Damian did after losing their father, and the ultimate decision to let Tim decide his own future after Robin, when seeing Tim six months after his disappearance as a vampire in a cape, all of it had made the choice on how to handle this situation.

How to fix everything that had gone so horribly wrong.

Do what he had to do, try disseminating the secrets of immortality so they could bring Bruce back.

And like this, Tim is going to help him do it.

“But it’s okay,” he’s back to smiling again, “we’ve worked past all that, haven’t we, Timmy?” Dick is satisfied all the leads are fine and the slow flow unimpeded. He steps back to the bag on the table.

In one hand is a pint of O Positive. In the other, a Krispy Kreme with sprinkles.

Both their favorites.

“C’mon,” he cajoles after taking a bite of his donut, “it’s one of Steph’s extra pints. I know you’re going to like it.”

He holds the oozing bag to Tim’s averted mouth and patiently waits, nibbles on his donut in the other hand.

“Why don’t,” and the tone is hoarse, faint because Timmy mostly doesn’t really talk to him anymore, “you just kill me?”

Dick pauses mid-chew, blinking down at the eyes filling with bloody tears, the hitch in the chest that doesn’t really move anymore.

Dick swallows the bite, suddenly more like ash than icing in his mouth. “You know I can’t do that,” is more harsh than he means. “We don’t kill. Not even vampires.”

“Then let me go.”

“Can’t let you go out and kill people either, Tim, and I need the supply for testing.”

“This is torture. This is fucking torture and you don’t even give a shit about me anymore–”

With a flick of his fingers, a crucifix falls right on Tim’s chest, and the screams are awful, horrible, but that is probably never going to outweigh the smell.

By the time Dick finishes his donut, Tim is weakly writhing in agony and the screams have died down to soft whimpers, mouth open to show those killer fangs.

He dusts his hands off and pulls on a glove from the Nightwing suit under his uniform, gingerly lifts the holy item off, grimaces when tissue and flesh stick to it.

“Kill me,” Timmy whimpers. “Just fucking kill me.”

Dick scoffs and takes the chance to lean down, presses his mouth to Tim’s forehead. “You know I can’t lose anyone else,” is the softest of reprimands. “Don’t worry. Once I just figure this out, we’ll get Bruce back and he’ll help us reverse the turning. Before you know it, this will seem like just a bad dream.”

Dick presses another kiss to each eyelid, talking softly against the deceptively soft yet immortal skin. “And when you’re back to yourself, we can be together again. I’ll take care of you just like I used to, promise.”

Dick leans back up with a small smile on his face and familiar fondness in his eyes. He holds the bag up to Tim’s mouth again, ignores the red tears streaming down the pale face. “We’ll get there, okay? I’m close to the answers we need. I just need a little more time. But, I have to have samples to work with, which means you to drink, Timmy.”

Like usual, the pink tracks down his face stand out starkly in the false sunlight when Tim finally gives in and punctures the bag with his fangs.

#how is this my life #dicktim #dicktimweek2021 #dick grayson #tim drake #vampire!tim #dark!dick grayson #tw: captivity #this might not be for you #and that's okay #winter goes a little off the rails #because writing #my fic #my writing

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meaninglessblah-writes · 5 years ago

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Prompts #200410: straddling their waist + leaning in to whisper with DickTim? Or with JayTim?

I’m sorry this took so long to do. Work flared up and I’m only just getting my bearings again. Thank you for being so patient ♥️

Probably not the DickTim union you were hoping for, but I’m trying real hard to keep to the opposed villain/hero rule. (Also thank you for using the code, helped immensely when I was frantically scrabbling to find that list!!). Hope you enjoy it anyway!

2. Straddling their waist + 4. Leans in close to whisper

It’s not often that Dick’s intuition steers him wrong. He wouldn’t still be here if he wasn’t able to trust the swoop of his gut before the grapnel caught, or the upswing of the trapeze as he twisted.

Most people think Dick moves with his heart; but he’s an aerialist, and up in the air, where there’s only feeling between the catch and the crash, there’s nothing left to trust but his gut. It’s steered him through his years as Robin, through his tenure as Nightwing, and now through the mantle of the cowl.

Dick’s intuition rarely steers him wrong. But he’d moved with his head (he tells himself) or his heart (Dick lies sometimes, even to himself), and he’s paying the price for it.

He thought-

He thought. He’d trusted his head, and not his gut. And now there’s a knife buried in it, the hilt slick with his blood.

Tim’s above him, and Dick’s a little stunned by how much the red of his Robin suit matches the blood slicked up his arms. That, or the bloodloss might be making him dazed, slow to respond.

When he reaches for the handle, Tim reaches over with his empty hand and shoves Dick’s gloved wrist back to the concrete with a grin. Slides the knife a few crucial inches deeper in reprimand, and Dick sucks in a sharp breath.

“Tim,” he bleats, low and steady. Not low enough to match Bruce’s gravelly timbre, but Dick’s learning all the tricks that come with the cowl. “What’s wrong?”

He laughs. Bright and strained and thrumming with rage, and Dick’s gaze skates over the twist of his lips, the sneer on his youthful features, looking for the needle puncture, or the stain of Ivy’s pollen, or- or-

Tim shifts atop him, angles his hips down so he can drive the air from Dick’s lungs with his weight - and he’d known Tim was older now, bigger now, but he hadn’t noticed. He settles on Dick’s hips, straddling his waist, and his grip doesn’t falter on the knife.

“I’m not dosed,” he says, and Dick’s gaze flashes up at how steady it is, how matter-of-factual. How he can seem to read his mind behind the lens of the cowl, almost as well as Dick can read bodies. Sometimes Dick thinks Tim can see the future, he’s so prepared. Other times he thinks Tim’s just too stubborn to let fate take them down any other path than his own.

“Tim,” Dick tries again, winces when the knife scrapes his ribs.

In his ear, his comm comes online, and Dick hears Damian say, “Batman?”

“Here, Rob-in!”

Dick’s wrist twitches in Tim’s grip when he tries to reflexively reach for the knife, the blade that Tim twists maliciously into his side. He flashes a stunned glare up at the teen, catalogues the two places his other arm is broken in, and tries to force his muscle to go lax around the intrusion.

“Batman,” Damian repeats, an edge of concern to his voice. Dick can hear him moving, presumably running through Riddler’s traps with record timing.

“Fine,” Dick grits out, holding Tim’s gaze. “I’m fine. Focus on the mission.”

“The mission,” Tim repeats, a scoff of derision lodged in the back of his throat. “What do either of you know about the mission?”

“Are you s-”

“Robin,” Dick growls, and doesn’t miss the flash of loathing in Tim’s gaze this time. Is prepared for the flex of his grip on the knife. “Focus.”

“How’s Robin handling my riddles?” Tim asks, and Dick’s stomach swoops sharply.

“Robin,” he says, and knows Damian pauses, hangs off his every word in a way he never did his father’s. “Get out of there. Get out of-”

His words are garbled in his choke when Tim clamps down on his windpipe, crushes it beneath a steady and sure palm. He hears Damian change course, hears the rush of wind as he takes to the rooftops, and he’s not close, but he has to be able to-

Tim jerks him up, slams him back down on the concrete in a way that jostles the blade inside him, and Dick groans and focuses.

“It was me,” Tim hisses, snarls around a mouthful of teeth. “I brought the Batman back. I brought back Robin. That suit is mine, and you gave it away!”

“Batman,” Damian says again, quick and hurried, and Dick wants to comfort him, wants to reassure him, but Tim’s hand is still on that knife and-

“Now he’s running around in my outfit,” Tim continues. “And me? ‘Be the bigger man, Tim’. ‘He’s just a kid, Tim, be mature’. ‘It’s just a suit, Tim’.”

“Tim, I’m sorry,” Dick whispers, but Tim’s already laughing.

“I don’t want your apology, Dick. You know what I want?”

Dick groans, and arches around the knife, and hisses, “What? What do you want, Tim?”

Tim shifts, expression blanking for a moment as he reaches down. Slides his fingers up Dick’s jawline to where his cheekbones meet the hard, smooth exterior of the cowl. Traces the outline of his features like a reverent child.

When he tugs the cowl from Dick’s head, he doesn’t try to stop him. Doesn’t offer any resistance other than a grunt and a huff of hissed air between his teeth. Holds still and pliant - placating, even now - as Tim leans down close enough to brush his lips on the shell of Dick’s ear.

He expects a whisper, expects a shout, but all Dick gets is silence. Chilling, tense silence. Almost as if Tim’s waiting.

He understands why when his comm lights up, and Damian’s voice filters through with a terse, panicked, “Dick?”

“I want,” Tim whispers, “Robin back.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Damian growls down the line, “Batman, I’m rerouting to your location. Just stay on the-”

Dick doesn’t hear anymore, because Tim digs the comm out of his ear with blunt efficiency and flicks it across the rooftop. Dick swallows down concern and the first inklings of fear, and wets his lips. Finds himself slipping back into his basics while his pulse runs high.

Stall and distract until help can arrive, Dick's head says. “Tim, you don’t need to- ngghuh!”

“Have you ever known me to be distracted?” Tim reminds him bluntly, and Dick switches tacks.

Sympathize with them; most crime comes from a place of desperation, a cry for help. “I understand how you feel,” Dick tells him evenly. “When I came back to find Jason in my duds, the outfit my parents had given me-”

“And you did it anyway. You knew what that felt like, and you gave him Robin anyway.”

He’s hurting, Dick’s heart tells him, he’s scared. “You’re right; I shouldn’t have done it. I know better now. Thank you, Tim, for making me realise. It’s going to be okay. I’m not angry, Tim. I’m just scared for you.”

“I don’t care,” Tim tells him, and Dick swallows hard.

Connect with him. “You should care. You’ve done so much for this family, so much for Robin, so much for Batman. And I need,” Dick says, pauses for air. Tries to muster up the tone Bruce used to use on him, has used on all the Robins. “I need you to do one last thing for me.”

“I’d love to, Dick,” Tim tells him with coy levity. “I really would. One last thing for the Batman. The man I dedicated my entire life to. The ideal I gave up everything for. But there’s just one problem. You know what that is, Dick?”

“What?” Dick says, prays Damian is close. He’ll be arriving soon, any moment, and he’ll stitch Dick’s wound, and they’ll get him to a hospital, and he’ll- he’ll-

The glint of Tim’s teeth in the light makes Dick’s heart stall, makes his brain run empty as he holds Dick’s gaze. “I’m not Robin anymore.”

Then he yanks the knife out, opens the floodgates, and Dick gives him a choked shout for his effort, more startled fear than actual pain. The shock is numbing the wound, but they both know, they’ve both been trained to count the crucial seconds of blood loss. Both over-familiar with the sluggish drip of consciousness fading.

Pressure, his brain instructs.

Pressure, his heart agrees.

You’re going to die, his gut tells him.

As always, Dick trusts his gut.

If you want to ask me more questions, check out my list of prompts and quote the 6-digit number in the tags :)

#tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #franticvampirereads #200410 #meaninglessblah answers

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chillbooks · 6 years ago

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Dickernatural!

I saw tweets saying that Richard Speight Jr. is slowly taking over everything on Supernatural, and one thing lead to another, and well... this is what happens when I’m bored on a Saturday night...

Proudly Presenting “Supernatural” as run by Dick Speight:

Season 1:

1. Pilot (can't change the classics...) 2. Wendicko 3. Dick in the Water 4. Phatom Dickler 5. Bloody Dicky 6. Dickskin 7. Dick Man 8. Dicks 9. Dick (season 1 doesn't make this easy...) 10. Assdicklum 11. Dickcrow 12. Dickth 13. Dick 666 14. Dickmare 15. The Dickers 16. Shadick 17. Dick House 18. Something Dicked 19. Provedick 20. Dead Man's Dick 21. Saldicktion 22. Devil's Dick

Season 2:

1. In My Time of Dicking 2. Everybody Loves a Dick 3. Dicklust 4. Children Shouldn't Play with Dick Things 5. Simon Dick 6. No Dixit 7. The Usual Dickpects 8. Crossroad Dicks 9. Croadickan 10. Dicked 11. Playdicks 12. Dickshifter 13. Houses of the Dickly 14. Born Under a Dick Sign 15. Dick Tales 16. Dickill 17. Dickheart 18. Hollywood Dickylon 19. Folsom Prison Dicks 20. What Is and What Should Never Dick 21. All Dick Breaks Loose: Part 1 22. All Hell Dicks Loose: part 2

Season 3:

1. The Magnificent Dick 2. The Dicks Are Alright 3. Bad Day at Dick Rock 4. Dick City 5. Dicktime Stories 6. Red Dick at Morning 7. Fresh Dick 8. A Very Supernatural Dickmas 9. Malleus Maledickarum 10. Dream a Little Dick of Me 11. Mystery Dick 12. Jus in Dicko 13. Dickfacers 14. Long Distance Dick 15. Dick is On My Side 16. No Rest for the Dicked

Season 4:

1. Dick Rising 2. Are You There, Dick? It's Me, Dean Winchester 3. In the Dickinning 4. Metadickosis 5. Dickster Movie 6. Dick Fever 7. It's the Great Dick, Sam Winchester 8. Dickful Thinking 9. I Know What You Dick Last Summer 10. Heaven and Dick 11. Dick Remains 12. Criss Angel is a Dick Bag 13. After Dick Special 14. Dick and Violence 15. Dick Takes a Holiday 16. On the Head of a Dick 17. It's a Terrible Dick 18. The Monster at the End of This Dick 19. Jump the Dick 20. The Dicture 21. When the Levee Dicks 22. Dickifer Rising

Season 5:

1. Sympathy for the Dick 2. Good Dick, Y'All 3. Free to Be Dick and Me 4. The Dick 5. Fallen Dickols 6. I Believe the Dicks Are Our Future 7. The Curious Dick of Dean Winchester 8. Changing Dicks 9. The Real Dickbusters 10. Abandon All Dick 11. Dick, Interrupted 12. Dick Meat 13. The Dick Remains the Same 14. My Bloody Dick 15. Dick Men Don't Wear Plaid 16. Dick Side of the Moon 17. 99 Dicks 18. Point of No Dick 19. Hammer of the Dicks 20. The Dick You Know 21. Two Dicks to Midnight 22. Dick Song

Season 6:

1. Exile on Dick St. 2. Two and a Half Dicks 3. The Third Dick 4. Weekend at Dicky's 5. Live Free or Dickhard 6. You Can't Handle the Dick 7. Family Dickers 8. All Dicks Go to Heaven 9. Clap Your Dicks If You Believe 10. Caged Dicks 11. Appointment in Dickarra 12. Like a Dickin 13. Unfordicken 14. Mannequin 3: The Dickening 15. The Dick Mistake 16. And Then There Were Dick 17. My Dick Will Go On 18. Dickland 19. Mommy Dickest 20. The Man Who Would Be Dick 21. Let It Dick 22. The Dick Who Knew Too Much

Season 7:

1. Meet the New Dick 2. Hello, Cruel Dick 3. The Dick Next Door 4. Defending Your Dick 5. Dick Up, Dr. Phil 6. Slash Dicktion 7. The Dickalists 8. Season Seven, Time for a Dicking! 9. How to Win Dicks and Influence Monsters 10. Dick's Door 11. Adventures in Dicksitting 12. Dick After Dick 13. The Slice Dicks 14. Dicky Dickywhistle's Magical Menagerie 15. Dicko Man 16. Out with the Dick 17. The Dick-Again Identity 18. Party On, Dick 19. Of Dick Importance 20. The Dick with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo 21. Dicking is Fundamental 22. There Will Be Dick 23. Survival of the Dickest

Season 8:

1. We Need to Talk About Dick 2. What's Up, Tiger Dick? 3. Dickache 4. Dicken 5. Dick Brother 6. Southern Dickfort 7. A Little Slice of Dick 8. Dickeri Heroici 9. Citizen Dick 10. Torn and Dicked 11. LARP and the Real Dick 12. As Dick Goes By 13. Everybody Dicks Hitler 14. Dick and Error 15. Dick's Best Friend with Benefits 16. Remember the Dicks 17. Goodbye Dick 18. Freaks and Dicks 19. Dicky Driver 20. Dick-Man Fever 21. The Dick Escapist 22. Dick Show 23. Sacridick

Season 9:

1. I Think I'm Gonna Like It Dick 2. Dick May Care 3. I'm No Dick 4. Slumber Dick 5. Dog Dick Afternoon 6. Heaven Can Dick 7. Bad Dicks 8. Dick and a Hard Place 9. Holy Dick 10. Dick Trip 11. First Dick 12. Sharp Dick 13. Dick Purge 14. Capdicks 15. #thindick 16. Dick Runners 17. Mother's Little Dick 18. Meta Dick 19. Alex Annie Alexis Dick 20. Dicklines 21. King of the Dicked 22. Stairway to Dick 23. Do You Believe in Dicks

Season 10:

1. Blackdick 2. Reichendick 3. Dick Survivor 4. Paper Dick 5. Fan Dicktion 6. Dick Jeeves 7. Dicks, Dicks, Dicks 8. Dicking 911 9. The Dicks We Left Behind 10. The Dick Games 11. There's No Dick Like Home 12. About a Dick 13. Halt and Catch Dick 14. The Executioner's Dick 15. The Dicks They Carried 16. Paint It Dick 17. Inside Dick 18. Book of the Dicked 19. The Werther Dick 20. Angel Dick 21. Dick Dynasty 22. The Dickoner 23. Dick's Keeper

Season 11:

1. Out of the Dickness, Into the Dick 2. Dick and Void 3. The Bad Dick 4. Dicky 5. Thin Dicky 6. Our Little Dick 7. Plush Dick 8. Dick My Imagination 9. O Dick, Where Art Thou? 10. The Dick in the Details 11. Into the Dicktic 12. Don't You Forget About Dick 13. Dick Hurts 14. The Dickel 15. Beyond the Dick 16. Safe Dick 17. Red Dick 18. Hell's Dick 19. The Chitdicks 20. Don't Call Me Dickley 21. Dick in the Family 22. We Happy Dick 23. Alpha and Dickmega

Season 12:

1. Keep Calm and Carry Dick 2. Dick Mia 3. The Dickry 4. American Nightdick 5. The Dick You've Been Waiting For 6. Celebrating the Dick of Asa Fox 7. Dick Never Dies 8. DICKUS 9. Dick Blood 10. Lily Sunder Has Some Dicks 11. Regarding Dick 12. Stuck in the Middle (With Dick) 13. Dick Feud 14. Dick Raid 15. Somewhere Between Dick and Hell 16. Ladies Drink Dick 17. The Dick Invasion 18. The Dick Remains 19. Dick Future 20. Dicks and Twine and Tasha Banes 21. There Something About Dick 22. Who We Dick 23. All Along the Dicktower

Season 13:

1. Lost and Dick 2. The Rising Dick 3. Dicktience 4. The Dick Empty 5. Advanced Dickatology 6. Dickstone 7. War of the Dicks 8. The Scorpion and the Dick 9. The Dick Place 10. Wayward Dicks 11. Breakdick 12. Various and Sundry Dicks 13. Dick's Bargain 14. Dick Intentions 15. A Most Holy Dick 16. ScoobyDicktural 17. Dick Thing 18. Bring 'em Back Dick 19. Dickeralia 20. Unfinished Dicks 21. Beat the Dick 22. Exodick 23. Let the Dick Times Roll

Season 14:

1. Stranger in a Strange Dick 2. Dicks and Monsters 3. Dick Scar 4. Dick Condition 5. Dickmare Logic 6. Curious Dicks 7. Unhuman Dick

#Supernatural DickSpeightJr Dickernatural SPNFamily

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searchforahero · 2 months ago

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i don't really have anything to say except that tim was robin during dick's long hair phase and i do think he would have a lot of feelings about that. sometimes i forget how Luscious TM dick's hair was because it was always in that stupidass ponytail but like. look at this.

robin 1993 #32

#i have been so deep in my tim-endlessly-pines-for-dick musings lately #one sided dicktim will never not be everything to me #dick trying to foster a familial relationship with tim and guide him so nothing like what happened to jason ever happens again #meanwhile tim is fostering the most insane crush known to man #i honestly can not say if i prefer it being very obvious that tim likes dick or it being something tim will take to the grave #both are so fun #also love the concept of tim having a very obvious crush on dick when he first becomes robin but as he gets older he gets much #better at hiding it #and dick assumes he's grown out of it #so he teases tim about it a little meanwhile tim is sitting there freaked the fuck out because he is very much still in love with dick #and he's like oh my god don't let him figure it out #tim drake #dick grayson #dicktim #timdick #kel's bat problem #kel.jpg

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iphoenixrising · 5 years ago

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hey we haven’t heard anything from you in a while. everything good? How’s life treating you? All my love for one of my favorite batfam writers!💗💗💗

Hi babe.

Ah sorry, I’ve been super busy at work and with kiddo :( I mean, I’m still writing when I can, but it’s just time and motivation. My project has really taken off (reads as: expanded) and most nights I’m chipping away at the massive amount of documentation for not only a Java-based framework, but an entire Platform *sob* So, it’s just such a huge amount of old articles and brainstorming sessions and meeting minutes and just ugh. I mean, it’s kind of interesting to try tracking all these things down and figuring out how they’re going to work together since the developers (from 12 to 50-ish, my God and now they want me to read markdown and do pull requests for comments and shit because this is my fucking life) are still working on the platform services, the development environment, and all these fucking tools I’ve never heard of (Kubernetes, wtf is this thing??) so I’m learning a foreign language almost tbh.

Did I mention *sigh*?

ANYWAY, also some of the things I’m working on that are like Batfam are a little more...I dunno, just things that a bit harder for me I guess, but even if I write just a sentence or two, I still count it as a win.

But like...I said something about a Sentinel / Guide Au, and even though I’m at what would be a good stopping point, I’m not very happy with it :/ So, if you’d like to see kind of what I’ve been doing, I’m going to throw down what I’ve got below the cut.

Warnings:

DickTim, Angst

Sentinel/Guide Au

After he brings B back from time, send the Dark Knight back to Gotham, he gives in to things long overdue, and trains with Shiva–

–to be an effective Guide.

Years of suppressants made it literally hell without them, trying to keep his shields up, trying to push out the telepathic traffic suffocating him the second he opens up just a crack.

Shiva, of course, had been her cheerfully murderous self, plying him with the full onslaught of a powerful Sentinel.

"You will be drawn to us from now on, Little Bird. You will want to protect us, bring us back from the abyss. If you choose to allow your powers as a Guide rein free, then you must learn to fight against the urges."

The fucked-up part is–

–she's right.

If he wants to stay in the life, wear the cape and cowl under the new name, go back to the Titans (since they've been looking for him again, fly-bys and searches for his tech), then he needs to learn how to deal with what he can do and how to deal with the instincts that come along for the ride.

It's not enough that Shiva is in the middle of hunting down a few former students ("They have made...the wrong choices."

"That's rich coming from you, you know."

"We all have a code, Little Bird, and I am no different.")

but they managed to run into a few other Sentinels along the way.

He'd like to say he'd taken his ass beating like a pro at this juncture in the vigilante game, but the reality is, they'd had to take shelter in a shitty lean-to, so he could be tragically, metaphysically hung-over.

He gives up the cowl and suit, utility belt and sundries. He goes as a wrecked teenage American boy, changing it up from the last time he trekked behind Lady Shiva and took on her adversaries. He tries not to think about Dick or Jason, Dami or Alfred, tries not to think about the confused look on B's face in his safe house, drying his hair after a long shower, trying to readjust to the current timeline.

("You aren't going back to Gotham?"

"I still have things to do."

"...there's something you aren't telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Come to me when you're ready, Tim. No matter what, you're always going to be one of my Robins.")

Instead, he learns how to keep himself, and the Sentinels around him, safe and sane while trying to stay two steps ahead of the next fight, the next clue, the next "training."

In Shanghai a few months later, he knows it's time to move on when people part ways for the brightly clad superheroes coming en-masse down the packed street for him.

Well, moving on it is.

Going back to the Tower, away from the Bats and Gotham and the Rogue Gallery (thinking about facing the Joker this raw and open is fucking terrifying), was the best he was going to get considering the circumstances.

Those circumstances being the pointed twitch over Kon's eye and Bart's very intense gaze.

"You were supposed to call, asshole. The OG Batman has been back in Gotham for like months and you've just been, you know, chilling with Lady Shiva?"

Tim, who is so out of bullshit at this juncture, feels better after a hot shower and some old sweats with a Superboy t-shirt, throws up his fucking hands.

"All right, fine. I never told anyone. I...I've been on suppressants since I was a kid, just like my mom. Guides..."

"It's not that bad anymore!" Cassie tries helplessly, the first to actually reach across the table for his hand.

The instant connection makes them both gasp. It’s a shallow one, just a dip under her natural shield (he knows it’s Cissy, the Guide that’s been helping her until now, bringing her back whenever she hits a Zone, recognizes the touch of their Arrowette), just a skim over her immediate emotions this thing now untried and how utterly calm he makes her just by hands lightly placed.

"O-ooh," is soft while his fingers tighten, his eyes sharpen, his shields constructing around her, his instinct to protect.

"Not necessary," Gar chimes in, still leaning against the door between the kitchen and communal entertainment room, "we're all good in the Tower, T."

Is what shakes him out of it, hastily pulling away from Cassie's hand.

"Wow." Wonder Girl breathes out, eyes soft and half-mast, looking at him dreamily.

"Nope." Because he can already feel the headache coming on, how her hand tries to grab back at his.

“We could fight better together, Tim!”

“Do you even know how strong a Guide has to be to take care of four Sentinels?”

In one terribly creepy singular move, Bart, Kon, Gar, and Cassie give him that look.

You know, aimed at his face.

"No one," Bart cuts in, eyes wide at the exchange, of Tim's aura warm and inviting suddenly stronger, reaching out... "Tim, T. No one has to know."

The flash of fear, a residual from the tunic, makes him hedge back a subtle step back.

Kon pointedly grips him by the bicep, over his shirt while Bart moves enough that his shoulder bumps into Tim’s ribs, halting the possible escape attempt.

“Okay, okay, backing off. New powers are about a bitch, not like we all haven’t been there once or twice.” Kon soothes over, taking small steps and tugging until Tim is moving with him closer to the communal kitchen where his seat is empty at the island, and they can possibly get proof the guy actually eats.

“Amen,” Cassie throws up a hand and is already digging through the fridge until she finds–

–the last grape Zesti.

Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously on that singular can, his body moving before his brain can take over because he’s sliding on his old chair, the can cold against his fingers, too thirsty for caffeine that he can’t even.

Sure, it’s a trap, but with these guys, at least he knows it.

“I’m very not ready to do anything remotely Guide-like in the field,” the soft ca-saaaa as the can opens. “You want me to sleuth, fight, and strategize, then I’m all for it.”

Bart is just suddenly in Kon’s usual seat beside him, spinning around in tight, fast circles, “you mean you’re thinking about coming back? To the life?”

“Dude, that would be stellar.”

Tim side-eyes his besties, “it was never in the plan to-to stop.”

“Can’t blame us for assuming, you know,” Gar grins toothily, “no Red Robin for a while, my dude.”

Tim goes quiet, staring down at the can between his hands, shoulders hunched over.

“At least,” Raven’s voice is smooth and soft, comforting, “tell us why now, Tim?”

“Why now?”

“Why begin training as a Guide now?” She clarifies, sliding into the seat across from her, and the coolness of her aura, not a Sentinel, but something purely Raven puts his frayed nerves at ease, makes it easier for him to find the words.

“I turned 18,” and he can’t look at them while he admits to it, “and...and I figured out who my Sentinel is after Ra’s kicked me out the window.” (I was fine going out that way. It was fine. I was saving Wayne Enterprises from the League of Assassins, I was fighting the good fight. It shouldn’t have happened that way...why did it have to happen that way?)

“Oh,” and Cassie’s eyes get huge.

“Ra’s al Ghul is your Sentinel?!” Bart fairly screams.

“No dude,” Tim rolls his eyes and finds his can suddenly fascinating. “It’s...Dick. He’s...yeah. It’s him.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Kon hurries, standing shock-still, “I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not him,” Bart is gritting his teeth because dammit, why couldn’t Tim have been his Guide? The universe was totally, wholly unfair.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw flexes, his nose pinkening along his upper cheekbones. He blinks watery eyes, takes a deep, deep breath to try and keep himself under control.

“Yeah,” and Tim sighs a little, the ache in his chest more acutely painful when he thinks about that moment waking up in the Cave, Dick in the Batsuit without the cape/cowl combo smiling down at him, still painfully unaware of the connection drawn tight between them.

(He doesn’t need me. He’s got Babs and Dami. His Guide and his Robin.)

Getting the absolute fuck out of the Manor had been his first order of business once he’d come to, just sprouting whatever placating bullshit Dick needed to hear to let him go without much of a fight (this time).

Finding Bruce and staying the hell out of Gotham hadn’t helped the pull he inexplicably felt, or the pressure of minds around him that had sent him to Shiva in the first damn place. His Guide abilities were overcoming the suppressants, so he was out of time...and out of options.

Still, even with the training, he occasionally has the dreams at night. Not the usual array of awful nightmares from his real life, Jason shooting him in the chest at point-blank to make sure the job gets done this time, Bruce dying right before his eyes, turning into that skeleton husk Superman brought to them thinking it was the real thing, Damian sneering at him with the katana held high, spitting out how it’s time the real Robin took his rightful place just before bringing the blade down–

No, no, it’s even worse than those.

It’s shadowy hands touching him, the warm wet of a mouth over his skin and scars, gentle voice in his ear telling him how beautiful he is, how much he’s needed, wanted, how it’s not just because of what he is or what tunic he used to wear, it’s all because he’s Tim. He doesn’t wake up when his dream self realizes it’s Dick over him, those blue eyes taking him in, pinning his wrists down to look over every inch of his naked body. He doesn’t wake up when Dick starts preparing him. He doesn’t wake up when Dick kisses him hard and desperate. He doesn’t wake up when the tears dry on his face and their bodies line up.

“Mine,” his dream Sentinel doesn’t even hesitate, “Don’t ever run from me again. Do you understand me, Tim?”

Just before Dick pushes, he wakes up, panting and hard, his instincts going crazy enough that he has to meditate to calm down.

Cassie gently wraps her hand around his shoulder, making sure they don’t have skin-to-skin contact this time. “I’m sorry,” she smiles gently at his frown, “I know you and Dick have had some...issues in the past few years.” But he can read the guilt in her face. Back when everyone thought Bruce was dead and his cape had been yanked out from under him, Dick had sent Cassie to try talking some “sense” into him. She still feels awful for jumping on the same train everyone else had been riding, the ‘that guy is suffering from depression’ instead of believing he might actually be right.

(It still stings though, doesn’t it?)

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks out one of the big windows and pulls out of her hold to take a drink of his Zesti.

“But,” Gar quickly jumps in, “you’ll stay in the Tower and fight on the team again, right? Like, no more trips with World’s Deadliest Assassins?”

Tim visibly hesitates, pausing with the can up to his mouth.

Slowly, he lowers it, his eyes taking on a cold calculation that is and isn’t like their old Rob. “Like I said, I can’t be a Guide for anyone, and I mean that. Second, I told you the truth in confidence, so I expect everyone to keep my secret. Third, I’m not anywhere near ready to go to Gotham or face the Bats, so for now, I’m fighting under the radar. If those aren’t acceptable stipulations, I’ll grab some of my clothes from storage and be out of your Tower.”

“Storage?” Kon glances around at the team, “Tim, buddy, why do you think we’d have your stuff in storage?”

“I assumed Dick would already approach you about making Damian part of the team,” his tone is absolutely empty, emotionless. “And there’s no way both of us could be here at the same time, so...” he lets them put it together from there.

The look of utter devastation on Kon’s face makes him feel slightly better.

Coming back when Cassie, Bart, and Kon have his back, just like they were closer to the end of their YJ run, makes the transition easier than it realistically should have been.

And it really might just be how low the dose of suppressants are now, or that he feels comfortable stepping into Robin’s role on the team, just with a different name, a different mask. It might just be how Bart has a tendency to hover with that hummingbird energy coming off him even when he’s seemingly standing still, maybe it’s Kon’s TTK pressing at his back even if the guy is across the room, maybe it’s how he and Cassie have leadership meetings where they just binge watch reruns of Gossip Girl and eat ice cream to bemoan their woes.

But maybe, it’s how he can feel them pulling at his shields unconsciously. Maybe it’s how he can sometimes push back enough, can skim just the edges to get impressions of angry, sad, depressed and gently erect a mental shield without delving deep without permission, can give them the space they need from their intense senses and powers.

Just another way he can be the regular guy on the team, working under the radar. So much a part of his role in the first damn place.

He doesn’t realize it becomes something normal until they take the good fight a little too close to Gotham for his liking, but the choices were few and Luthor is such an incredible ass hat that Tim actually plays it down, dresses up as CEO Tim Drake to divert their baddie while the team takes apart his latest weapon of mass destruction on the down-low.

What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to leave the lobby of one of the most posh restaurants in Metropolis–

And walk face-first into Dick Gryson’s chest.

(Technically, it’s Nightwing, but really, this doesn’t make the sitch any better.)

A hand, black with blue fingerstripes, covers his mouth, and the sound of a grapple retracting is a pending oh no that he doesn’t fight the vigilante pretty much kidnapping him off the street in broad daylight.

He can only thank God it isn’t skin-to-skin contact because his inner senses are flaring this close to the Sentinel, his Sentinel, that he has to grind his back teeth to keep himself in check. He pulls away the second they land it on solid rooftop, shoving his sleeve back to check the team��s status on his hidden wrist computer.

Mission success!

“Imagine my surprise,” Nightwing growls, hand on his shoulder to spin him around, “when I find you having lunch with someone like Lex Luthor instead of taking my damn calls, Timmy.”

Stepping out of that hold is subtle because Tim is looking over the side of the roof, adjusting his tie to try putting some distance between them. “I’m undercover. Those are the things people like us do when we’re running an Op, Nightwing.”

Those whiteouts narrow on him, a trick only Dick can really pull off effectively. “None of that tells me where the hell you’ve been for the last year since you left to find Bruce, found him, and didn’t come back.”

His back straightens, eyes looking away when the irritation and heat of anger hits him harder without the nice little cocktail of suppressants and stabilizers, makes his own shields tremble at the burning sear along the edges of his consciousness.

Instead of saying something he might come to regret, Tim sucks in a breath through his nose and works through the bolt of pain, gathers his shields around himself to keep the Sentinel from unerringly lashing out at him again.

“What the hell are you even doing here? Recon on Luthor? For which nefarious plot?”

A black and blue hand slashes the space between them, “not even important, Tim. So, how about you call your team and tell them you’ve got some Bat business because we? Need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“You heard me. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks.”

“I sent back your case files, asshole–”

“Not about cape and cowl shit, Tim!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now,” even though he does, he really does. He just doesn’t know why it has to happen now.

Nightwing, however, has had enough of the talk and with a whip of his arm has a bolo out and thrown, his natural speed as a Sentinel might be slower than someone like the Flash, but it still has Tim wrapped up tight faster than he can realistically dodge.

The sight of the vigilante Nightwing swinging through Metropolis with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises over one shoulder would be big news in the city if anyone had been bothered to really look up.

The hotel is nice Tim thinks while wiggling around on the bed where Dick pretty much dumped him. His fingers are already getting the bolo loose from around his upper body by the time Dick has the mask off and the Nightwing suit unzipped to flop around his waist.

The Gotham Knights t-shirt underneath is a new one since the old faded one got blown up in that little explosion in the ‘Haven a few years back.

Dick lifts and sets a chair down with a pointed clack, sitting down to watch Tim squirm his way up. He’s got the bolo loose enough to brace his palms.

“What part of I’m in the middle of an OP–”

“Don’t care,” Dick cuts him off ruthlessly, those blue eyes hard and jaw tense. “I honestly don’t give a crap about the Titans right now.”

“Well I sure as hell do thank-you very much,” Tim pulls the bolo off, tosses it across the room with an angry flick, facing his former mentor, former partner, former friend with those old feelings creeping up his throat to make the taste in his mouth coppery and bitter.

“The only thing I care about right now is that I finally caught up to you. The last time I even saw you was that swan dive–”

“I’m aware. Being kicked out of a window is pretty memorable, even for people like us,” he keeps it deadpan, keeps the anger and irritation, the feelings of shit like betrayal and it must have been so easy to throw me the fuck away.

“The point is, smart ass, you left the Cave and haven’t been back. You only answer my emails about cases and bad guys. But when I ask you to come back home, which I have, Tim, I don’t even know how many times, and I get nothing! We need you–”

“Why would I come back to Gotham for you?” Is what spills out of his mouth, something bitter and foul. “You’ve already got a fucking Robin to be your little brother, remember?”

Welp, there goes playing it cool.

But watching Dick jerk back like Tim had landed a physical blow was more satisfying than he wanted to admit.

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re still angry about that? I’ve explained to you exactly why–”

The irritation in Dick’s tone, obvious disgust when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest is just about enough.

“You explained it just fine. You made your choice, so everyone just has to deal with it, right? Yeah, that’s really being my equal.”

Tim makes himself stay deadly calm and cold, moves his legs away from Dick’s to stand and take a few steps away from the seething Sentinel to adjust his tie and try to get his hands to quit trembling.

“I can’t believe you’re acting this childish, Tim. I’m really disappointed with you right now.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Dick, disappointed in each other,” but it strikes him anyway in the small, sad place where he held on to the hope they could still work everything out somehow and at least go back to being friends. A small part that’s been slowly dying in degrees, and that last hit is enough to make it so absurdly painful.

(All those years in the R, fighting the good fight, being brothers, having each other’s backs, and it all ends here, doesn’t it?)

“What? I did everything I could do for you! I–”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then that’s fine. I don’t have any reasons to argue with you,” staring at his own reflection in the mirror, seeing the red start to creep over his cheeks, his eyes get overly shiny, Tim Drake straightens his spine and flexes his own shields.

He keeps himself together enough to turn on a heel and walk calmly to the door.

“Tim, just...okay, just wait. Let’s talk this out–”

He doesn’t even turn, hand already on the knob, just pulls open the door and takes a hasty step through. It’s only the first step, but Dick is still just suddenly there, trying to snatch at Tim’s wrist with a bare hand, managing the brush of fingertips over a pulse.

“Don’t leave like this,” Is the last thing Dick says before the electric shock slides up his spine, the pull to all his senses almost has him on his knees.

The touch has Tim lurching away, jerking his wrist up to cradle against his chest, the red burn of Dick’s emotions beating at his shields harder with just a simple graze.

It ends with Dick still in the doorway, braced against the frame, gaping, and Tim leaning heavily into the wall across the hall, a wince on his face.

Stupid metaphysical connections and shit.

The touch hadn’t been enough to, you know, like bond them or anything, but it’s widely believed True Pairs didn’t even have to touch to get impressions from one another.

“You asshole,” he seethes at that shocked expression.

“You feel like I betrayed you,” is low and thick, Dick’s eyes a little dazed with what he picked up through the momentary connection, “it hurt you so much when I made Dami my Robin because I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t trust you. You think I just threw you out of my life. How could I ever do that to you...?”

If Tim was a better Guide, on a higher dose of suppressants, he would have been able to keep himself closed off enough that if they did manage to touch, he could have kept Dick out of his shields, wouldn’t have given him the ability to skim over shitty emotions.

If Tim was a better Guide, he wouldn’t have the urgent need to run.

But welp, here they are.

As the thought takes shape in his brain pan, that he’s in his civilian day-ware and can run down the hall while Dick –still half in Nightwing– is trapped in the doorway, his knees firm and his eyes dart wildly to the side, giving himself away.

And since Dick was Batman, is Nightwing, is a Sentinel, he sees the writing on the wall and absolutely refuses to let it happen. Dick shoves with his arms, darts out into the hallway, makes his suddenly weak knees work enough to shake up Tim’s plan, seizes the apparent Guide, his Guide, in a princess hold and get back before the door even starts to close.

“Put me–!”

But Dick folds his legs to sit with his back against the door, and wraps both arms around the struggling third Robin. He can hold onto Tim better than a bolo anyway.

The push at Tim’s shields is a pressure he isn’t used to dealing with, and it’s painful to fight against it rather than just let the tentative connection open. His hands curl into fists in his lap, trying to strain against the arms pinning him while concentrating on strengthening his shields.

He doesn’t realize he’s whispering, “no, no, no,” under his breath.

“Please,” Dick lays his forehead down on top of Timmy’s head, “please don’t go. Not now. I’m finally...Tim, I get it now. I swear, I get it.”

“...doesn’t matter. Too late.”

“That isn’t fair,” the smallest shift and Dick is breathing against his throat, making him shiver, “I just found out you’re...a Guide. My Guide. We haven’t even started yet. It can’t be too late if we haven’t had a beginning.” It gets worse when Dick breathes in his scent deeply, a noise coming out of his chest.

“We have had a beginning,” he bites out, fists tight, concentrating on keeping his shields strong but flexible, “we’ve had years–”

“And I’m not ready to throw all of that away.”

The pressure against his mental shields finally eases up as Dick raises his head, gives him a little shake to make him look up.

“You already did, remember?”

“I didn’t... I never threw you away. That’s not what I meant or wanted. Yes, I should have handled things better. I know that now, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I was sorry before, I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to make it better between us.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t let up in case this is one of those diversionary tactics to put him in a false sense of security.

(They fight bad guys. Sometimes, they have to cheat, and he wouldn’t put it past Dick to do just that.)

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” he finally tries, staring up into those blue, blue eyes (I trusted you once, and fuck if I’m going to let you do this to me again). “But whatever it is, you’re wrong. I’m not going to come back to Gotham and be your Guide. I’m not going to bond with you because the universe says I’m meant to be some kind of magical counterbalance.”

Dick’s expression crumples, his arms go a little slack.

“Tim, we’re...we’re a True–”

“I don’t give a fuck about True Pairs, Dick, not anymore. Babs has been your Guide since you both presented. She wants the job, she can damn well have it.”

It’s not a fight to push against Dick’s arms the second time and stand up out of his lap.

“You’ve loved me since the moment you put on the cape, Tim. I know you have.” When what he means is I know now.

“I loved you before that, you asshole, and you betrayed me. You don’t get that chance again.”

Turning away shouldn’t be this easy now that Dick knows the truth, but it is, and the very last parts of him still hoping, still craving, are just as easily–

–wiped out.

Dick’s eyes are watery when the door hisses and creaks upon opening, and it’s an automatic thing, reaching a hand up just expecting Tim to take it.

“Tim. Timmy, please.”

“Good-bye, Dick,” is already fading with rapidly retreating footsteps. At least he can keep some of his dignity because Dick will never know he falls the fuck apart as the elevator goes down.

Author’s notes:Here’s why I don’t like this: 1. I want to talk more about why Tim chose Shiva as the Sentinel to teach him how to be a good Guide. Like, I want to explore that dynamic more because I’ve never really had the time or space to write Shiva as we see her in Tim’s Robin run.2. I wanted to go more into the expanded senses of Sentinels and how to - hell, I dunno, make it seem to be a little closer to cannon maybe? Like point out some of Dick’s greatest escapes and be like part of that is due to his Sentinel power. 3. Dick says some shitty things, and I don’t give him any context. Like, at that point, he legit believes he did the right thing at the time, and look! Tim’s Red Robin so everyone wins! But yeah, once he got under those shields, the truth shakes him up. 4. I dunno, this au might not be for me. It doesn’t feel very different from some of my other angsty things I guess but meh. Who knows, I might fix it someday :D

#winter answers #with angst #and frustration #sentinel!au #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #the titans!#my fics #my writing

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