#tim's 16th birthday

[arrowheadedbitch]

Tim's Birthday, he's about to open Bruce's gift

Tim, dead stare at Bruce: If there is any form of hologram in here, I am killing everyone in Gotham, including myself

Bruce, terrified: Oh..., uh, well good thing there's not

Tim: Are you sure?

Bruce: Yes

Tim, opening the present: Oh, a new camera. Neat.

Everyone:

Tim:

Everyone:

Jason: Okay, what the fuck was that about

Tim: He knows what he did.

[shadowsh00ter]

Jason: What was it like to be sixteen?

Dick caught off guard: Huh?

Jason: I didn’t really get to have the sweet sixteen experience you know.

Tim: Consider yourself lucky.

[brucewaynehater101]

The Memory of Bodies AU:

Jason has been making amends with Tim in his own stilted way. He keeps his distance, but he'll put a blanket on Tim when the kid passes out somewhere (since Tim is always falling asleep in random places). The teen will find his favorite snacks in various places. Red Hood has shown vicious protection for Red Robin.

Tim has noticed and acknowledged these changes. As far as Jason is aware, Tim's forgiven him. They're good.

During a YJ mission, a magic user "gifts" Tim nonconsensually with a spell that makes him forget some of his more traumatic memories. One of the memories targeted was the TT attack.

At first, the Bats don't realize Tim's missing any memories. They don't like to talk about it and usually avoid that topic.

All the Bats see is that Tim's shoulders have lost a tension they didn't realize he was carrying. He allows himself to be physically closer to Jason, even going as far as falling asleep on him during a movie. The teen smiles more, makes more jokes, and isn't as guarded around the Waynes.

He wasn't unhappy or distrustful with them before, but he wasn't nearly as open as he becomes post spell.

Eventually, someone makes a comment about TT. Tim asks them what they mean by that.

Cue the Bats freaking out.

Once they figure out it was magic, they have a discussion on whether Tim *should* get his memories back. He's obviously happier like this.

Tim is extremely uncomfortable with the idea of someone controlling his memories and him being unable to remember such important details. He doesn't care if it will cause him to be more stressed out and cold. The idea of him not knowing freaks him out. Besides, what other memories could he be forgetting? What if none of the Bats were there when they happened? What does he not remember?

Anyways, Tim's having a few mental breakdowns.

Jason's having a few mental breakdowns (he thought they were good. He thought Tim trusted him. He thought he made it up to him).

The Bats restore Tim's memories, and he can feel the weight of them as they settle. His eyes become sharper, less bright, and they keep track of the exits as well as everyone in the room. The other Bats knew better, but they still feel slightly disappointed and sorrowful.

[humblefryingpan]

So much of the robins' "training" is literally just abuse and I'm using Tim's birthday to prove my point

So on Tim's 16th birthday got a box from a "mysterious stranger" (a paid actor) that couldn't be opened and he thought it was a bomb so he immediately tried to get it as far away from his family as he could.

When the box opened it played a holographic video of Alfred (who Tim should be able to trust) sending a message back in time from the near future telling him someone he was close to would betray them and that it was up to Tim to stop it happening.

So Timmy was under loads of pressure, had a nervous breakdown and stopped trusting everyone from his friends to his girlfriend and brother. He spends several days and nights spying on his allies waiting for someone to slip up.

Eventually he figures out Bruce is behind it all and goes to find him. Bruce didn't care Tim was upset and congratulated him for "passing the test" (and also tells him he should've done better). Tim, understandably, yells at him and nearly quits being robin for good (he later comes back for another fucked up thing Bruce does but that's another thing).

It's not psychological abuse, it's ✨training✨

(also I'm so glad Tim yelled at him and didn't just accept it because he's right, it isn't okay)

[sporkberries]

Sweet 16

[setare7x]

okay so if you read batfam ff (about tim) you can sort them into two categories: bad parent bruce and good parent bruce (or good and bad family), but i always get so angry if the whole family treated tim so badly and then something happens and he just forgives them?? like what😭 i love those fanfics where they realize they treated him wrong but he already moved on (like with young justice for example)

(so if you know a fic like this pls share it with me xx)

(and this doesn't mean I dislike all the reconciliation fanfics, I just really like the trope of him moving on and not going back into this (probably toxic) family)

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

OK so now I'm thinking about birthday's

And everyone in this fandom seems to know the 16th birthday from hell and I'm gonna touch on it

Growing up, I had pretty shitty parents. I know I haven't talked too much about it, but my father was the king of fucking up my birthday and whatever, and would never get me a gift like this man was incapable of practically, remembering my birthday.

But I want you to think about that for a moment Bruce Wayne, who, for all intensive purposes, was a father figure to Tim went out of his way to psychologically torture that poor child on his birthday, and it is like never brought up again like the angst potential of the entire family finding out is astronomical.

But also, do you know how fucked up it is to feel on your birthday the day that is supposed to be about you your father literally going out of his way to fuck it up. That's not something you forget that is a vivid memory. 

That shapes you for all of your life never mind the fact that time travel is a big thing in the DC universe. That was a perfectly tailored way to destroy Tim Drake and I mean I talk a lot of shit about Bruce Wayne but I almost feel like that's worse than a lot of shit he's done in my personal experience some shit sticks with you my most traumatic memories are not actually physically abusive in nature it's the psychological shit that fucks with you.

So RIP Tim Drake and his emotional well-being because every bit of paranoia, every bit of his personality, his lack of trust all can stem back to the 16th birthday from hell.

I love when we can literally dig to the cause and the cause of every contingency Tim Drake has ever fucking written. Is Bruce motherfucking Wayne.

I can never not stop hating on Canon Bruce Wayne I don't care if we have him, hugging Tim in one comic

That man is a piece of shit and I will stand by that statement 

[rock-in-robins]

Bruce handing Tim a birthday gift: Happy birthday

Tim holding it like the box is going to bite him, immediately going to the cave putting it in a containment box and burning it while glaring at bruce: no. just no. I fucking refuse.

Dick: Hey tim wtf??

Tim: Would you like to explain my trauma response to birthdays gifts, huh B? what bout you Alfie?

Bruce looking very uncomfortable: There was a training incident that I deeply regret.

Alfred:

Tim: is that what were calling psychological torture these days?

Dick turning to Cass: you get a go at Bruce if I get Alfred?

Cass already rolling up her sleeves: deal.

[avayarising]

Tim Drake’s 16th birthday AU…

…in which Tim thinks he’s the traitor (because Evil Future Tim has him half-convinced it’s inevitable) and locks himself in a holding cell in the Batcave and won’t come out

…in which Tim thinks he’s the traitor because of Evil Future Tim and leaves his Robin suit folded up in the Batcave with a resignation note and leaves Gotham only to stumble into Red Hood in his Lost Days

…in which Tim thinks he’s the traitor and does nothing because he thinks this is an attempt by Evil Future Tim to make him cause it by trying to prevent it (Bruce is waiting for the other shoe to drop)

…in which the Message From The Future was actually sent/orchestrated by Evil Future Tim to break Current Tim

…in which the Message From The Future is real and really does refer to Evil Future Tim

…in which Evil Future Tim actually turns up halfway through to advise Current Tim

…in which Good Future Tim (Red Robin) turns up halfway through to advise Current Tim and manages to make things worse

…in which they both turn up and fight each other

…in which it was all a fear toxin nightmare.

[gennydreams]

Bruce to Tim after his 16th birthday:

“Fear heightens your senses, fear keeps you alive. Arrogance gets you killed.”

[arrowheadedbitch]

Bruce: Tim, don't blame yourself if you have trouble trusting people, it's not your fault. Vigilantes is hard but that doesn't mean you should be hard on yourself.

Tim: You're right...it's not my fault...it's YOUR FAULT!

[gretahayes]

Do you think Bruce wakes up and goes “ah yes today I will ruin my child's life” or is it a thing that just happens

[comics-nerd-number-3001]

I love Tim Drake's problems!!!

I know there are alot of angsty Tim does not believe he is part of the family takes but consider a hilarious twist on this where Tim 100% separates being a bat verses being a Wayne like its more of a family business type of situation. 

Like Jason goes on a full ass monologue about how Tim stole Robin and his place in the family as Dick’s brother and Bruce’s son and Tim is like??? chill I’m an employee dude. Damian tries to kill him to prove that he is the superior son and Tim is super confused because shouldn’t he go after one of Bruce’s sons instead of an unpaid intern?

Bruce has a whole heart attack when Tim tries to ask if he has a retirement plan or benefits lmfao 

Cue everyone trying to show Tim he’s part of the family except he is dodging attempts left and right (like that time he created a fake uncle just so he wouldn’t get adopted)

[solelifauna]

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 1)

TW: Mentions/allusions to cannibalism, death, and violence.

Three years had passed since that fateful day and your life had only gotten more miserable. Whatever hopes you had for being a part of a family were thwarted as soon as you stepped foot in the household. Bruce doesn't care about you, Dick was straight up mean, Jason (as the pack protector) was aggressive, Tim found you annoying, and Damien simply loathed your existence and would join Dick with his cruelty.

Both Stephanie and Barbara were civil with you, but neither really cared about what you did. Cassandra was nice, sometimes signing to you and giving you scented clothing, but she still didn't really go out of her way to engage with you. The only person who you felt truly cared about you was Alfred.

The first two years you tried your hardest to fit in and get the others to like you. You did whatever they wanted, made sure to learn their interests so you could talk to them, never complained, and made sure to respect the pack's boundaries.

You hoped that eventually, you’d all move past this hurdle and soon you would get along and be allowed in the pack den and other pack activities. Unfortunately, you realized that you would never be considered part of the family or the pack. Which as heartbreaking as it was, was the least of your worries.

You see, there was an ancient custom in werewolf culture concerning new pack members and pack initiation. When a new werewolf is introduced to a pack and their territory, the new werewolf has a certain amount of time to be accepted into the pack; if they’re not, well, they're killed and eaten. 

Yeah… quite terrifying and barbaric if you think about it, but mostly only the old lineages still continue this practice. Which is why you’re absolutely fucked. See, typically when children come to a pack they get accepted immediately, pups were (usually) considered precious.

In your case, being a half-blood severely reduced your chances and well, you guessed the Wayne family just didn't like you. Which sucks because you only have until your 18th birthday to get them to accept you, and considering your 16th birthday was coming up, your time was coming to a close. 

Or, you could always just run away. Hey! It was an option, one that you weren't sure the Bats would even let happen. Still it was worth a try. Which leads to your current situation in Bruce's office; you were trying to cut your losses a little early.

~~~~~~

“Look, I just feel as though this is the best course of action for your pack’s and my own safety.” Came your exasperated and desperate voice.

“Safety?” Bruce questions, causally flipping through some Wayne Industries documents, as if he doesn't know exactly what you're talking about.

“Considering Damian’s tried to kill me five times, two of his attempts almost being successful, and Jason's pit aggression that has him ready to rip my throat out, you can see why someone would feel unsafe.” You state, voice raising slightly in pitch.

He hummed noncommittally, his eyes still focusing on whatever paperwork he was going over.

“I'll think about it.” He replies, still disinterested.

“There’s nothing to think about! I should be allowed to leave if I want to, and if anything I'll finally be out of your pack's way.” You say, finally letting your frustration show through.

Why couldn't he just let you leave? Did he seriously want to keep you here just to kill– sorry, eat you in another two years?

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from his work, his blue eyes meeting yours. He was unimpressed, you could tell that much at least, coupled with a dark look of simmering anger.

Okay, so maybe you should tone it down a notch.

“Come on, I'm not an idiot. I know me being here is simply a public formality, good fluff bits for the press y'know. But I'm not part of your family, and I'm certainly not part of your pack. You and the others have made that very clear. So please, allow me to do us both a favor and get out of your way.” You add.

“Where would you go?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

“Where would you go?” Bruce repeats again.

“That–that is honestly none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? Aren't I entitled to know where my kid is?”

“No, you’re not. Sure you're biologically considered my father, but we all know I'm not really considered your kid.”

“Is that what you think?” He questions.

“Am I supposed to think any differently?”

“You carry the Wayne surname do you not?”

“I do.”

“Then you belong to the Waynes. To me. Which means that I decide what happens to you.”

There was the familiar darkness that you saw pooling in Bruce’s eyes, the type that left the Joker a tortured mess, the type that disemboweled Ra’s Al Ghul, the type of darkness that reminded you that Batman doesn’t kill. Oh no, he maims and tortures instead.

You unconsciously take a careful step back. 

Bruce’s stare felt like ice, and his words hung in the air, thick and heavy with an authority that was absolute. You wanted to argue, to say something, but every instinct in your body screamed for caution. There was a darkness in his gaze that you had seen glimpses of before, but never directed at you, and now it was there, unblinking, cutting through any hope you’d harbored for mercy or understanding.

Your heart hammered, yet you forced yourself to stand straighter, swallowing down the instinctive fear. 

“With all due respect,” you began, your voice smaller than you intended but steady, “staying here for another two years just for you all to—to follow through with that—custom, doesn’t seem fair.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften, but his posture shifted slightly, his gaze piercing through you like he could see every thought you tried to hide. 

“Belonging is earned. It isn’t granted because of blood,” he stated coldly. “If you truly wish to belong somewhere, you work for it.”

“I’ve tried,” you said, voice thick with frustration. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve followed your rules, I tried with everyone, and stayed out of everyone’s way. But nothing I do is good enough.”

“You assume that acceptance is given on your terms,” he replied, voice as controlled as ever. “Pack structure doesn’t bend to anyone’s whims. Least of all a half-blood who hasn’t proven their loyalty.”

The words stung, tearing open a wound that you thought had scarred over. You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp ache of your own nails digging into your palms. “And what exactly does proving myself look like here? Surviving Damian’s attacks? Letting Jason rip me apart every chance he gets?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, cutting through any retort you’d planned.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to take another step back from his desk. Challenging him wouldn’t help. He’d already decided where you stood, and nothing you said would change that. Maybe it was better to save your energy, conserve your strength for the day you’d finally slip away.

“Understood,” you said, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

 But you’d still leave when the time comes.

Bruce’s gaze hardened, like he knew what you were thinking. “Your place is here until I decide otherwise,” he said, a finality in his tone that told you any further argument would only worsen things.

He dismissed you with a look, returning to his papers as if the conversation were over, as if you were no longer there. Every step you took out of the office felt heavier, like the manor itself was holding you down, binding you to this place that was never truly a home.

As you closed the door behind you, the cold emptiness of the hallway wrapped around you, and you knew then—you were on your own. If you were to survive this, it would be on your own terms.

It's like clockwork when Alfred calls you down for dinner. The same time, the same routine.

You show  up to dinner, hands still shaking and mind still reeling from your disturbingly cryptic conversation with Bruce. But, never mind that you’d just eat quietly and leave like you always do. You moved to your normal seat only to find that all the chairs near the end of the table had disappeared. What the actual fuck. Was this some type of powerplay? Something to imply that you didn’t even have a seat at their table anymore? 

You mean, you wouldn't mind eating in the safety and comfort of your own room. With an exasperated sigh, which had a couple of heads turn their attention to you, you grabbed an empty plate and started loading it up with food. You were about to head back to your room when you heard an outraged growl from behind you.

The kind of growl that had you tensing, ready to submit and roll onto your back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jason growled out from behind you.

You freeze.

“To my room?” You responded meekly, curling in on yourself as much as you could.

“And pray tell, why do you think that’d be acceptable?”

“Uh–um, ‘cause my seats’ gone?”

Jason only smirked, the feral kind that almost always promised pain to his enemies.

“Oh, but your chair isn't gone, it's right here.” Jason says pointing to a chair right near the head of the table.

You blanked. That's not right. Only pack was allowed that close to the head of the table, where Bruce sat, where the pack leader sat.

“B-But, I can’t–”

“Did that sound like a suggestion?”

You shook your head no, swallowing down a whimper that almost escaped your lungs.

“Then sit your ass down,” Jason growled.

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Immediately you shakily sat down in your new seat, on the left side of Bruce’s seat at the head of the table with Jason sitting at your left shoulder and Dick across from you. Not good, not good at all. You could feel the acidic, green gaze of Jason burning into the side of your face whilst Dick languidly sipped his wine, a sickeningly sweet smile (with way too many teeth to be considered anything but malicious), plastered on his face as he stared at the new seating chart. You let out a shaky breath, trying to get your heart rate back to normal; you were so gonna die tonight.

Thankfully, Bruce arrived and sat himself in his seat at the head of the table; right next to you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on getting air in your lungs and slowing your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Bruce shot a knowing stare at the rest of the table. As much as you tried to conceal it, they could all hear your rapidly fluttering heartbeat and your poorly hidden breathing. Tim and Jason both watched you amused; you looked so darn pathetic, sitting there trembling like a leaf. 

You glanced down at your plate, picking at the food without really tasting it, hoping that staying silent would help you melt into the background.

Bruce, however, remained still and silent, his presence looming over you, radiating the authority that seemed to keep everyone else in check. But even that felt like a facade; the way his gaze lingered on you for a split second too long told you he was watching closely, assessing.

You forced yourself to take a bite, trying to steady your hands enough to appear somewhat composed. But the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to echo in your ears, loud and unrelenting, as if amplifying the anxiety that twisted in your gut. They could hear it too; you knew that much from the way Jason’s smirk deepened, from the way Tim’s lips twitched with barely-contained laughter.

As the dinner dragged on, every clink of a fork, every quiet murmur, felt like it was directed at you. The food turned to ash in your mouth, each bite only reminding you of the eyes trained on you, dissecting you with every chew and every breath.

The rest of the dinner passed in strained silence, every second an endurance test as you forced yourself to stay seated, to keep your head down. When Bruce finally pushed his chair back and dismissed everyone, the wave of relief was almost enough to make you lightheaded. Quick as a whip, you practically ran up the stairs towards the safety and solace of your room.

When you make it, the locks on your door are immediately fastened (not that it would do much if anyone wanted to actually force their way in). You exhale in relief as you try to collect your thoughts. Fuck, everything was going to shit; the worst part being you had school tomorrow (which thankfully you did not go to Gotham Prep; you'd kill yourself if you did). You groaned at the thought, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes to relieve the ache shooting through them.

Looks like another night of shitty sleep.

Taglist!!: @lostsomewhereinthegarden, @the-rouge-robin, @confused-they

[bloopy-writes]

Just imagining the chaos that would occur with Tim and Damian actually doing a road trip by themselves across Europe as Damian’s 16th birthday gift.

Constant arguments over whose picking the driving music today getting to the point where Damian duck taped Tim’s hands to the window

Both of them trying to see if they could “theoretically (of course)” steal priceless art from each museum they’d go to and argue about the flaws in each others plans

Damian flexing his language knowledge in each new country

Tim always having a list of vegetarian restaurants that they can go to and Damian always having a list of restaurants that have good vegetarian options but aren’t fully vegetarian so that Tim can enjoy himself too

Both trying to outdo each other souvenir shopping for their family

Damian and Tim end up like the Scooby doo gang and somehow find themselves caught up in a new mystery each time but they actually love it

Tims favorite day was when they went to Venice and Damian spent the whole day lecturing him on art history because it was the happiest he’d ever seen him

Damian’s favorite day was when they went to the Swiss alps and he convinced Tim to go hiking before sunrise and they made it to a high summit by sunrise and they just sat there, no words needed both completely content with the others presence

[thedrunknextdoor]

Dick: hey tim ur turning 18!! what are ur birthday plans :)

Tim: yea i dont do birthdays anymore.

Dick: ??? why ????

Tim: well after bruce and alfred decided to psychologically torture me for my 16th, and almost everyone i ever cared about was dead for my 17th birthdays kind of make me nervous now lmao.

Dick: oh

*Later*

Tim: Bruce just apologized to me??? also why are him and alfred jumping at shadows

Dick, completely normal unless u fuck w his brothers, Grayson: who knows lol old people are weird