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spacedace · 1 year ago

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Here be the first little bit of the new DP x DC AU I warned about earlier where Tim, due to his constant repeated attempts at cloning Bart & Kon, accidentally summons slightly eldritch Elle who is very interested in what he’s up to.

As always feel free to run with this as a prompt if yall find anything here interesting :D

Tim didn’t mean to summon her.

He’d been in the lab, staring at the data on the latest failed attempts at cloning Kon and Bart and feeling like he was cracking in two. Eyes burning, chest tight, world spinning out into shifting impossible shadows around him as his mind and body struggled to push him forward into another day without sleep. The hush of water in the tanks, his unsteady steps on the cement floor, the chill seeping into his bones.

He stumbled and swayed through the maze of the lab, numbers dripping like blood down the screen as he tried to stare at the figures. He needed to try again, needed to bring them back, in whatever capacity he could. This time would work. This time he’d get it right.

When he saw her, feet clumsy as he rounded a corner, he thought she was just another hallucination.

How could she be anything else?

Skin like a polished mirror, hair like the white-hot flash of lightning, eyes as green as the depths of the Lazarus Pits. She floated before a tank, spectral and strange with a long wisping tail that drifted off into nothingness in place of legs, body shifting and changing before his eyes in ways that bodies should not be able to. Outside of the eyes the face was…not there. An impression of the shapes that you’d expect to see in a human face, like the Question’s. Sometimes though the features defined, sharpened. Mirror bright skin crackling as faces took shape in the glass.

In the low light of the lab, he almost imaged one of those faces was Kon’s. Dimples and freckles and high cheek bones and the slant of a silhouette that haunted Tim’s dreams at night. A flicker of her lightining hair and it was gone. Smoothed back into soft blankness once more.

He watched from the of the aisle as she lifted too-long mirror shard fingers and rest them gently on the glass as she seemed to peer in at the lifeless body inside.

Attempt 76.

One of his tries with Bart. The organs hadn’t grown right during the age-up process. Tim had cried for that one as he had for all the others. As he had for Bart and Kon when they had died. As he still did as the fact that it was more maddened grief than hope that kept him pushing forward anyway.

He closed his eyes to the hallucination at the end of the aisle. Breathed deep and steady. It might be gone when he opened his eyes again. It might not be. It might be something - someone - else when he dares look next. He’d been through this time and time again over the days and weeks he’d been throwing himself at this agonizing wall. The only difference this time was the intricate strangeness, the total lack of recognition he had for the figure, baring the moment he almost saw Kon in its face.

Coffee. Maybe some harder stimulants, if he had any left. New data to review, new attempts to be made. He didn’t have time for the effects of sleep deprivation.

Tim opened his eyes.

He jerked back as he came face to face with himself, warped and strange and green in the reflective face of the being where it now hovered so close that if it breathed he would feel it upon his face.

She tilted her head at him, curious. Hands rose to cup his face, rest on his shoulders, wrap around his arms, cradle his hands. More hands than he’d seen before. More hands than he was able to truly comprehend, stomach souring as his eyes stung and strained in the attempt to look at the impossible warping of her body. Despite the glint of shattered glass that made up her fractured palms and splintered silver fingers, her hands were soft and warm where they curled around him. Almost human in the way they held him in place, the hold pleasantly firm.

He’d never had a doting elder aunt to pinch his cheeks and demand to get a look at him, but he imagined this might be what that felt like. The way the being shifted her head from side to side, his reflection warping in the curved reflection of the planes of her featureless face, added to the strange idea. His hallucinations didn’t normally touch him, though. And never so…kindly.

Tim felt his blood go cold as he realized it might not be a figment of his fracturing mind floating before him.

Swallowing nervously, he tried to shift backwards, to slip out of the many grasping hands before the softness turned sharp and began to cut into him. He felt something cool against the back of his legs, hair standing on end as static electricity built up on his skin where he brushed the trailing tail he hadn’t noticed her curl around him. The entity leaned in close, the depthless green of her glowing eyes consuming Tim’s entire field of vision, and he was flooded by the sudden, horrible awareness of being Known.

The world fell away from him, his stomach lurching with the sick-sweet feel of free fall that used to exhilarate him when he’d first become Robin and had flown from rooftops dangling by his grapple and his belief in the magic being Robin instilled in him. The lab, the equipment, the piles of data and desperate scribbles, the failed clones, Tim himself. All swept away in the flood of green and the roar of lightning and the cool press of glass.

He came to would could have been minutes or centuries later. Gasping and sick on the cold cement floor, shivering as he dry heaved. His mouth full of salt and copper and the burning crackle of ozone at the back of his throat.

For a moment, disoriented and dizzy, he thought it had all been a hallucination after all. Or some fractious dream visited upon him by his torn and tattered mind after he’d finally collapsed from exhaustion on the lab floor. That the entity truly had been just in his mind, a consequence of his refusal to rest until his work was done.

Then he felt the glass-cool fingers running through his hair, the warm hand rubbing at his back, heard the low murmurs of reassurance in a voice that was almost, almost human.

He spasmed as he tried to jerk away, hissing with the sharp sting of pins and needles dancing over every nerve. His limbs were heavy and clumsy, and he was crashing back to the cold floor under his own weight before he could even try and drag himself away. His breathing came in short, aching gasps as he tried to twist away, only managing to roll to his back to see the entity where it sat calmly looking down at him.

She had a face now. A solid, steady one that fit her in a way that made him think it must be her real one, though what that meant exactly he didn’t know. The glowing eyes had dimmed and shifted, more human looking with black pupils and white sclera. Button nose marked with silver-tarnish freckles that spread over her cheeks too. A mouth, with lips curled into an apologetic smile. Her hair, still shifting as if caught in a wind that wasn’t there, was still the bright white it’d been before, but the lighting of the locks had settled into faint crackles between the curls. Whatever she was, whatever she’d done to him, he could look at her without feeling like his mind might just crack in two.

“Wha-“ His voice cracked, painful and hoarse like he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been. Swallowing around the burn in his throat, he choked out a hissed, “What are you?”

Her head tilted in that curious slant again, more human features giving her a bright, youthful look as she peered down at him questioningly. “You summoned me, Little Gaffer, shouldn’t you know?”

Gaffer is a term used for a glass crafter, as well as light technicians for stage/movie productions. I’m using it as the term for the person who creates a Clone, with the clone themselves being a Mirrorborn, and the person they are cloned from being called the clone’s Reflected. Gaffer is probably a bit of a stretch for this, technically I think someone who makes mirrors would be called a Glazier (Glaziers are glassmakers) but I wasn’t vibing that as much. Besides I like the vibe of glass + light = mirror in a way.

Anyway, opening volley of a new AU where Tim ends up becoming like a warlock to Elle to get his loved ones back, while Elle is just having the time of her sorta eldritch little life watching this absolute mess of a human wreck shit and cause so much chaos even without the powers she starts giving him.

(Elle in this is both the God Queen of Clones/Mirrorborn as well as the Ancient of the Speedforce (which I’ve decided is called the Ever Onward in the Infinite Realms, because I literally can’t be stopped from trying to make normal DC things sound mystical because spooky Infinite Realms aesthetics haha)

Have a tiny bit more written for this, but don’t know how much I’ll end up writing for it with all the other projects I have currently lol, so if anyone is interested feel free to run with it as you so desire haha

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc writing prompt #Tim Drake #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #god queen of clones Elle #ancient of the speedforce elle #unhinged tim but that's not a surprise #eldritch dani #kon kent #bart allan #mostly just their dead clones but still they're relevant #warlock tim #patron dani #unreliable narrator #only for a bit though #yall thought Tim was bad in canon just imagine what he'd get up to with fucky bullshit ghost powers #tim accidentally ending up as the leader of a cult because he actually is a prophet for a god like being #Kon and Bart are gonna be SO CONFUSED when they come back to life to this shit #Cassie just mad she joined the wrong Death Be Gone cult #also was anyone gonna tell me Cassie joined a cult after Kon died or was I supposed to just find that while reading wiki pages at 4am

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necrotic-nephilim · 2 months ago

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"I don't care how much you hate me - you need to eat!"

DickTim during Bruce's Lost In Time phase but with Dick stopping Tim from leaving💕

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

fucked up DickTim during Bruce's lost in time era my beloved. this is 2k of *very* dead dove DickTim, with one-sided feelings from Dick and unreliable narrator vibes. it is a smidge OOC, just bc of how dark Dick gets, but i think i kept it best i could. enjoy <3

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

Dick thought he was doing this to honor Bruce. The last thing Bruce would’ve wanted was to see Tim drive himself over the edge and go too far, all for a fruitless chase to bring Bruce back from the dead. And sure, maybe deep down Dick knew he reflected some of Bruce’s worst traits. The obsessive control. The worrying to the point of being overbearing.

It came with the capes and spandex territory. Especially now that Dick had decided to man up and put on that damned cowl.

But even at Bruce’s worst, Dick was pretty sure he wouldn’t dare go this far.

Dick knew it was wrong. What he didn’t know was why he couldn’t stop himself. Why the gnawing guilt was so easy to compartmentalize and why every good point Tim had got ignored by Dick’s logical side, brushed off by one simple mantra.

He was doing this for Tim’s own good.

All of this was to protect Tim from doing something he would regret.

Dick had done brain scans, had Tim magically checked up, and even managed to get him to properly talk to a psychiatrist. Everything came back normal. Tim was perfectly healthy.

So maybe this was something that had always been a part of Tim. Maybe it was a bad idea for any of them to have let Tim into the vigilante world so young.

Some people could handle it. Some people couldn’t. Dick had seen firsthand how it broke minds and ruined lives. He’d seen people turn to drugs, cults, murder, and god knew what else just to try to cope with it.

That didn’t make Tim weak. Tim Drake was the furthest thing from weak, and Dick would fight anyone on that.

This was just a hard life to cope with. Sometimes, people needed support through the worst of it.

That’s what Dick was doing.

Giving support.

“I don’t care how much you hate me- you need to eat!” Dick stepped back, dodging Tim’s attempt to kick his feet out. The bowl of salad Dick had set next to Tim was completely ignored.

Dick had learned not to give Tim hot food after Tim flung potato soup at his head the first time, chunks of potato stuck to his hair.

Tim’s scowl was lethal. Technically, he wasn’t restrained. He could move freely around the manor and do whatever he wanted.

It was the shock collar that kept him from leaving the grounds or breaking into the Batcave.

Dick had decided that would be the most humane way. The shock was only momentarily painful, it was designed to knock Tim unconscious if he tried to get somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. The collar had taken three tries before Dick found a lock Tim couldn’t pick, and a few more unfortunate incidents of Tim finding weak spots in the barrier.

But Dick always found Tim and brought him back home.

That was what was important.

The fact Tim kept trying to break out and go to god knew where on some fruitless quest to find a dead man made Dick more secure about this decision.

He was doing this to protect Tim. Once Tim worked through the worst of his grief, all this would be in the past. Something they would laugh at.

Hopefully.

It was like one of Tim’s contingency plans. Really, he of all people should understand.

But he didn’t. Which was what hurt Dick the most, the angry look in Tim’s eyes and the way his fists clenched when Dick came into Tim’s room. Tim had access to the whole manor, but he stuck mostly to his room, refusing to talk to anyone.

Especially Dick.

And now, it seemed, his latest tactic was a hunger strike.

“I’ll let you look over the burglary case we’re working on,” Dick offered. “I’ll bring you all the files and your computer if you just…” he gestured to the salad, “eat something.”

That had worked, in the beginning. Dick could coax good behavior out of Tim by offering to let Tim help with whatever case Dick was facing. It took a load off of Dick’s back and gave Tim something to focus on.

Of course, Dick couldn’t leave Tim’s computer with him. The first time Dick did that, Tim managed to break all of the firewalls and safeties put on it to start a case file about Bruce. Dick had to delete everything and only allow Tim monitored access from that point on.

After that, Tim really didn’t like Dick.

“Can’t you just go back to ignoring me?” Tim snapped. He sounded… resigned. Emotionless in a way he hadn’t been, like all the fight he’d been putting up for weeks was finally going out.

“Ignoring you?” Dick frowned. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut at the words. He kept a wide berth from Tim, wary of more punches being thrown, and decided to sit at Tim’s desk chair, a good few feet from where Tim was on his bed. “What makes you think I’m ignoring you?”

Tim scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You only talk to me to ask if I’ve dropped the Bruce thing yet, or to try to force self-care on me. The rest of the time you ignore me so you don’t have to face your own guilt.”

Dick violently shook his head. “That’s not-” he sighed, running a hand over his face- “I’m just busy, I promise. Between being Batman, managing Bruce’s estate, and trying to handle Damian, I just…” his voice trailed off. So many things to balance. He still didn’t know how Bruce managed it all. “I haven’t made enough time for you. I’m sorry.”

He decided to take on the burden of helping Tim. It was his responsibility and Tim was right, Dick was doing a piss poor job of taking care of him.

No wonder he pushed away Dick’s attempts to reconcile. It must’ve come across as half-assed, in Tim’s eyes.

Dick wished Bruce was here. He would’ve known the right way to handle this.

“Don’t start now,” Tim said icily. He picked up a book from his nightstand and opened it, pointedly not looking at Dick anymore. “Just leave me alone.”

“Will you eat first?” Dick asked. “If you just eat, I’ll go. I promise.”

With a loud sigh, Tim snapped his book shut. He picked up the salad Dick brought and shoveled down mouthfuls, all while glaring at Dick. Once the bowl was empty he set it back down and spread his hands, waiting.

Dick didn’t leave.

He wasn’t going to abandon Tim.

Dick stood up and Tim relaxed for just a moment before he realized Dick was walking toward Tim’s bed instead of the door. Slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, Dick crept forward. He chose to sit on the foot of the bed, still far enough away from Tim to give him personal space.

“Tim-”

“Out. Now. You promised.”

Dick ran his fingers through his hair. “I know, but-”

“What do you want from me?” Tim almost yelled the words. “Do you want me to just say I don’t believe Bruce is alive? Will you finally leave me alone, then?”

“Can you say it under a truth serum?”

Tim went quiet, grinding his jaw.

“I want you to get better,” Dick sighed.

“What happens when I get better, then?” Tim challenged. He moved to sit cross-legged on the bed. So close to Dick that Dick could reach out and touch him, but emotionally, they were miles apart and it hurt Dick’s chest. “You ‘fix me’-” he put finger quotes around the words- “to your liking, then set me free?”

“Don’t talk about yourself like you’re an animal.” Dick frowned, fist clenching at the idea Tim thought of himself that way.

Tim just stared at him. “Then don’t treat me like one.” He raised a hand and tapped the collar.

It looked like it had new scratch marks on it.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dick said. He tried to find the words. It was so hard to explain it when Tim wasn’t listening to him. He wasn’t even given a chance. Dick tried to reach out. For once, Tim didn’t pull away. He was completely rigid under Dick’s touch, though. His hand rested on Tim’s arm, thumb stroking back and forth. “You know I’m doing this because… because I’m worried about you. And I care, Tim.”

“No you don’t,” Tim leaned away from Dick, but didn’t pull his arm free. “Whatever version of me exists in your head-”

“Tim-”

“-isn’t real,” Tim ignored him and kept going. “You won’t even listen to my theory-”

“Tim!” Dick tightened his grip, ignoring the small wince of pain that came out of Tim. “I’m not entertaining that kind of talk.” He tried to be firm but loving with his tone. But even Dick could hear the anger and frustration that was bleeding off of him. “This is practically self harm.”

“I know I’m right,” Tim mumbled. He wouldn’t look at Dick. “Will you just leave, now?”

Against his better judgment, Dick stood up. He had to patrol soon. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk after-”

“I’m going to sleep,” Tim snapped. “No, we won’t.”

Dick tried to throw his hands up in frustration, but he was still holding onto Tim’s arm.

He didn’t want to let go.

He knew Tim was waiting for him to let go, but Dick couldn’t force his fingers to release. He just stared for a moment, breathing hard.

Dick was doing this out of love.

And now, he loved Tim too much to want to let go of him.

Did he have to patrol tonight? He was pretty sure the Birds of Prey were in Gotham.

“Dick,” Tim said carefully, starting to scoot away from him. The apprehension in his voice was unsteady, eyes narrowed. He was always too on edge. “I’m tired. Just go on patrol.”

Instead of letting go, Dick lifted his other hand and held Tim’s face. Tim flinched but stopped inching away. He was completely still, barely even breathing.

He looked afraid of Dick.

Dick’s chest clenched. He wished he could get Tim to understand. Dick leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tim’s forehead.

He wanted to kiss somewhere else, somewhere a few inches lower and just as unobtainable. That was a feeling Dick buried deep, deep inside of him.

It wasn’t why he was doing this.

A hand pressed against Dick’s chest. Trying to push Dick away, but for just a moment, the pressure and warmth almost made Dick shudder. Tim hadn’t properly trained in a while.

He wasn’t actually strong enough to push Dick off of him. If Dick wanted to, Tim couldn’t have stopped him.

But their relationship was already fractured. It would take a long time of repairing and letting Tim heal before Dick could even try pursuing those feelings.

Tim had once had a childhood crush on Dick, though. So he was pretty sure they could work their way up to it, be something more.

Dick pulled away. He let go of Tim’s arm and allowed himself one stroke of Tim’s hair. It was getting a little long, brushing against Tim’s shoulders.

The entire time, Tim remained perfectly still. But his eyes got wider and wider, the way they always did when he had just figured out a case.

Dick was getting too close. He needed to pull back.

“You still have the spare comm link?” Dick asked.

Tim didn’t answer. He just kept staring with those wide, searching eyes. He looked a little pale. Dick should get him some iron supplements, Tim becoming anemic is the last thing Dick wanted.

“Use it if you need me for anything,” Dick continued. He gave Tim what he hoped was a calming smile. “Get some sleep, Tim. I love you.”

He turned and walked out of Tim’s room. Slowed to crawl at a snail’s pace, hoping for an answer from Tim. He would take any kind of answer.

But Tim kept silent, even as Dick took his time intentionally, slowly closing the door. Dick just sighed, turning down the hall to head down to the Batcave.

Someday, he’d get through to Tim. Dick would find a way.

Someday soon.

#necrotic writings #dicktim #tim drake x dick grayson #batcest #dead dove do not eat #whump #this one got iffy at the end i won't lie #and it's bc a person reached out for a difficult conversation as i was writing this #that. emotionally heavily mirrors this fic lmao #so i was in a very tim position #and i think. it fucked with the fic a bit. oops #but many thanks to my partner for editing it for me.#they helped me keep the unreliable delusional narrator vibes with dick #while hopefully conveying tim's feelings correctly too #bc it is implied that tim realizes dick's feelings in the moment and is horrified #knowign that's the real reason dick is keeping him #and dick just won't acknowledge that #so. it's so fun and messy.#i had a lot of fun with this one <3 #slowly but surely #i unbury my askbox hehehe #it's like a sisyphean task but i'm having FUN #if sisyphus was in love with his boulder core.

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fallen-flier · 7 months ago

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the moon will sing (time traveling tim)

so. i saw this super awesome post by @puppetwoman17 about time traveling tim drake and got obsessed, so here's a small ficlet i wrote about it!

part 2

The thing is, Tim expects it. He’s faintly aware of the blood seeping from his stomach, staining his hands red— hands which are uselessly putting pressure on his wound. If he survives this, he doesn’t even want to think of all the weeks of pure agony and fever, brought on by the wonderful lack of his spleen and the fact that healing from wounds sucked, period.

Death isn’t surprising— he really didn’t think he would live past, what, twenty-five? Thirty? To live until beyond 50 with his lifestyle was, well. It sounded painful, anyways. And you would need to be a deeply paranoid neurotic. Like Bruce. Because as much as he respected his father and looked up to him, if Tim turned out anything like Batman, he’d probably find a bullet through his brain sooner or later.

Half because Tim was reckless and his plans were so convoluted and insane that nobody really knew what was going on either, just to confuse his opponent. The other half was, well. You can guess.

So. He’s bleeding out, the night is uncomfortably cold and the wind bites into his skin, sand grating against his back, and all Tim can think about is how much he hopes Ra’s al-Ghul doesn’t show up like a damned wraith and drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest surgery table and take out his kidneys or something.

Tim’s also thinking about his family. And the probable inconveniences that come with his death. Like arranging his funeral and all his assets and his Nest and the fact that Tim is a very integral part of the family and Dick will probably fall apart and Bruce will mourn and brood, and, and damn it. Tim should probably revoke his thinking process or something.

—

Tim is twenty three years old when he bleeds to death alone, and nobody finds his body until three weeks later when his family has scoured the Earth and his distress signal rings, rings, but nobody sees it. His predictions about his family come true.

But that isn’t quite relevant, because Tim isn’t aware of such a thing.

Instead, Tim closes his eyes and falls and jerks up on his bed, clutching his chest as years of memories flood his brain, too much for a mere eleven year old. It feels like his head has been cracked open and molten lava had been poured through, scorching his veins and circulation. It feels like agony of the highest level and Tim is faintly aware of the darkness creeping in, his mind too overwhelmed and overstimulated from years of memories flooding into his brain.

And so for the second time in a few minutes and a lifetime, Tim welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.

The next few hours are spent in pure agony, his body being too weak to move and his limbs too short for him to coordinate. He’s pretty sure that there’s a pool of dried blood underneath him from a nosebleed, but he’s too tired to turn around, so he just uncomfortably shifts away from it. Not for the first time, he thanks his lucky stars that his parents are neglectful, because he doesn’t even know how he would explain all of this.

Two days later, he musters the strength to stumble out of bed, gulp down the bitter, carbon dioxide-filled water next to him and get to the kitchen. It’s April 1st, twelve years ago, Tim is eleven years old, and his family doesn’t know him yet.

Half of the terrible things that have happened to Dick haven’t happened yet. Jason hasn’t died yet. Duke is still a kid and his parents are healthy. Babs hasn’t been put into a wheelchair by the Joker.

Steph is still living with her father. Damian and Cass are being trained as assassins.

Mrs. Mac is due to come in a few hours. Tim looks at the blood-crusted covers of his bed and his crumpled clothes.

Oh, shoot.

So instead of researching or training, Tim spends the next hour trying to get the bedsheets off with his tiny, noodle arms, half stumbling on his feet because he’s way too damn short, and making his way to the bathroom so he can take a shower and get some of the blood off so it doesn’t stain too badly.

It’s probably a lost cause. Not that his parents will notice or care about a missing bedsheet, but it feels wasteful to just throw it away to hide evidence of his unintentional time travel.

Two and a half hours later, Tim stumbles out of the laundry room, his bedsheets and pillow finally in the washer. He collapses on the nearest chair and scans the room for his father’s computer.

He lets out a shaky breath. His family is generally unscarred. Jason is Robin again. Jason. The boy who Tim had held with a certain degree of, well, disdain. Thinking about it kind of makes him want to punch is past self in the face, or cringe in the way that you can only do when you think of something embarrassing you used to do. Like victim-blaming your older brother for getting beat to death while trying to find his mother.

It wasn’t the only way he looked at Jason, but he had always thought of him as too reckless. Maybe he really did deserve the beating. Well, not that he believed that young teenagers should be beat up by young adults in Robin cosplay, but at least Tim wasn’t exactly traumatized by the experience. Better him than some other poor civilian kid Bruce could’ve adopted.

And Tim did get his revenge. By getting Jason on his private parts. But whatever. Revenge was revenge, and Tim was better than the whole crime lord setup his older brother had. In practice, anyways.

Chewing on the ballpoint pen, he writes down the first thing on his list (in code, of course) since coming back in time.

prevent jason’s death

Well. Now that he had a comprehensive list, Tim was down and ready to plan.

—

A hour later, Mrs. Mac appears, none the wiser to what happened to him. Tim greets her as she walks in, and she smiles and greets him back, putting lunch in the fridge. She notices nothing wrong about how he stays sitting on the chair in the living room, and Tim says nothing about it. When she leaves, he pulls the piece of paper out of his book and the pen from his hair, scratching down some extra points.

Hmm. Maybe the Court of Owls should go early. Or perhaps that would create too much change?

Dick would have a better time in the future if they were gone, though. Tim frowns, dragging his pen back and forth in a short line on the table.

He still needed to factor in the fact that he was an unknown to the family. The thing is, Tim loves their dysfunctional, broken family and he knows Bruce and Dick loved him back. But to be honest, it would be easier to change events if he wasn’t being scrutinized by Bruce every day. And it wasn’t like Tim had any shortage of money, with his parents still alive and his family fortune enough to cover whole lifetimes, so he wasn’t worried about his own safety.

It would be nice to go to college too. Maybe Stanford. He was smart enough to make it, and the location was close to the vigiliante community that if he so wanted to, he could probably join and watch his family from the outskirts. Last time around, Tim just couldn’t leave Gotham. Being a vigiliante was his life— he couldn’t even justify it as a temporary thing anymore. Their family had gone through so much tragedy and Gotham was still filled with crime and Tim had an obligation to keep her safe. It just… he couldn’t escape his mantle because he loved it, and Tim had a difficult time letting things go once he loved them.

But if Tim could change things from the start, he didn’t need to be pulled back into the life. (He couldn’t have it, even if he loved it, because it was never his in the first place.) He could start anew, be a vigiliante when he was in college and far away from the family he hopefully would’ve fixed by then.

Well then. First things first, he needed to remove a factor from Jason’s death so he wouldn’t die in the first place.

—

Mrs. Mac comes by and cooks him lunch, and they eat in silence. Typically, Tim would fill the silence with chattering, glad to have someone to talk to in the empty manor. But Tim’s mind is whirring, drawing up and discarding plans. By the time Mrs. Mac stands up and tells him she’s going to leave now, Tim has thought of three contingencies and twelve more future events he needs to address.

He mhms when Mrs. Mac prompts him to, and eventually she leaves out the front door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It’s spring break and Tim doesn’t actually have anything to do because he’s in middle school now, so he mulls over the Jason problem for a few more hours.

It comes to him when he’s microwaving the leftovers from lunch, and Tim is pretty sure he’s a genius, or something. Sheila Haywood worked at a refugee camp in Ethiopia handling medical supplies, but she was embezzling funds from the organization she was working for. It wouldn’t be difficult for Tim to trace it and report her. By the time Jason began tracking her down, she would most likely be in prison, just for a few years and everything would hopefully blow over and the Joker wouldn’t blackmail her because she had no use to him in prison.

It was cold, perhaps. But her life wouldn’t be over with a few years in prison, and Jason would be alive. Nothing more than they deserved.

Jason, alive. Then Damian, Cass, and Steph. He would see to his family, whole and happy. Then perhaps, in the future, when he was older and safely out of Bruce’s adoption zone, Tim could perhaps work with them. Laugh about how he never expected the Wayne family to be vigilantes, just to throw them off his trail.

Tim allows himself this one selfish thought, because he has nothing else but the shattered remains of a future that will never come to be, and a family he left behind but still exists.

a/n:

i wrote this in two hours under an inspired haze of time travel and tim, two of my favorite things

tim is a super unreliable narrator if you haven't already noticed lmao

also if i get any characterization wrong feel free to leave some discourse or ping me on the head

but like please be gentle cause y'know constructive crit, not bashing

thanks for reading! :D

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brucewaynehater101 · 6 months ago

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Hemlo! Here are some sparkles and hearts for all the delicious posts and answers!! ✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️ ✨️

I also have ✨️Questions✨️! In Tim being Bruce's Father Figure AU/headcanon, how do you think Tim's 16th birthday will play out? Will Bruce even plan it? And if he does, will this AU's Alfred go with it? How differently do you think Tim will go about tackling Bruce's lesson on paranoia? And how do you think he'll discipline Bruce after all is said and done? (I am sorry for the many questions 😅😅😅)

The sparkles are really cute. Also, don't know if it was on purpose, but urban dictionary says "hemlo" is how dog's pov says hi???

(Also, I love questions and asks so much. I sometimes take a bit to respond [cause I work nights, so my sleep schedule is whenever I can when I don't work], but I genuinely love all of them).

As far as Tim's 16th birthday, fuck. Alright. I guess this AU/hc can get some more angst. It's been too light and funny lately. Why not?

Okay.

~~~

Tim stares at the object that started it all. It's perched innocently on his desk, but the teen wants nothing more than to shatter it into dusty remains.

Bruce, his son that he willing took responsibility of, his son of three years, thought it was fit to cause Tim to have a mental breakdown. Bruce isn't aware of the true nature of their relationship. Bruce thought it was fit to cause rampant paranoia in a child.

Where had Tim gone wrong?

He thought Bruce was getting better.

Were the sticker charts, the car rides for sleep, the persistent checking for injuries, and the forced self care the wrong moves? Was Tim too harsh? Too soft? Where had Tim failed his son so that he thought this was an acceptable and appropriate set of actions? Why did Bruce do this to him?

He doesn't know.

And Alfred. He thought the two of them were on the same page when it came to parenting Bruce. Were the many discussions over tea, the late night baking, the aid around the house, and the chats during gardening for naught? They were supposed to rely on one another, inform the other when Bruce was going too far, and stop the man. Tim had so many fucking conversations with Alfred on permissive parenting and being a bystander. He thought they were in agreeance.

Not only did Alfred fall back to old and wrongful ways, but he was now an active participation in Bruce's emotional abuse and manipulation. Can Tim even trust Alfred to protect Bruce's kids from Bruce? Was Tim just special?

He doesn't know if it is worse for Alfred to target Tim specifically or for the older man to allow such actions against all of Bruce's children. Both thoughts are unbearable.

The man had the audacity to joke about Tim being of age after this clusterfuck, as if Tim hadn't been an adult in a child's body parenting an adult nearly three times his age. As if Tim hadn't aged a decade in the last three years. As if Tim hadn't done enough.

Gods, Tim is tired. He doesn't think reddit can help him out of this either.

Tim brushes a finger against the offending object as his face screws up in overwhelming grief, frustration, and betrayal. The smooth edges of the cube are cold, and his face feels hot.

He won't cry.

Bruce is a bastard, a man-child who criticized Tim for believing in time travel (as if they both hadn't seen it happen before).

It's infuriating and heartbreaking, but it's not the end. Tim can still fix this. He'll be more vigilant this time as he screws the errant pieces of Bruce's morality and judgment back together. He'll study more parenting books, attend more psychology online courses, and find a therapist he can ask parenting questions to anonymously. There's still more Tim can do.

He can still save his son from himself.

There's still time.

Tim pockets the reminder of his failures towards his son as he goes to Bruce.

He won't ask Bruce to apologize.

He can't.

It's Tim's fault, after all.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #bruce wayne #tim is an unreliable narrator in this and it is not his fault #fuck bruce for that birthday incident #thank you for the ask!!!!#tim is a child-man parenting a man-child #dc au #tim acting like bruce's parent

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shyjusticewarrior · 10 months ago

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Jason Proving Bruce's Revisionist History Wrong

You know what I love about the retcon that it actually was Jason (for part of his appearance) in Batman Hush?

In that book, Bruce has convinced himself that Jason's death was inevitable when he gave him Robin because he couldn't be as good as Dick and Tim.

Then Jason shows up and:

Fights in a way that heavily reminds Bruce of Dick

Takes down Tim

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astxrope · 14 days ago

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Ok but is my brain dying or is there some inconsistancy with OUATIS and GPTvTMK lol cus I think they said TS was picked up during the rose red war... but was present during moon kaiser war.

But Tim was there in OUATIS???

Tim wtf re you doing.

#the mechanisms #the mechs #ouatis #once upon a time in space #gunpowder tim vs the moon kaiser #it's weird lol #but also incinsistency? in character #jonny is absolutely an unreliable narrator

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megaerakles · 7 months ago

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To Whom It May Concern

Tim couldn’t stay.

No matter what Bruce had said when he caught Tim in the act of laying the paper trail to establish his Fake Uncle, no matter how long Dick had sobbed into the phone at him during an inordinately expensive long distance (read: off planet) phone call, no matter how much Alfred had been fussing over him and insisting it was no trouble at all to care for him since Tim’s scheme had been revealed and promptly foiled, it just didn’t change the fact that Tim couldn’t stay. Truthfully, the Wayne family’s apparent sudden burst of affection for him actually made this whole thing worse because somewhere along the way, without even trying, Tim had failed to keep things wholly professional between them and somehow tricked them into thinking he belonged in their family!

He couldn’t let it stand. For the sake of Jason’s memory, for the sake of preserving the sanctity of the true Wayne family, he had to stop this… this absurdity of pretending that Tim belonged with them from continuing! Tim had to run. Tim had to vanish. It was the only way to make things right again. Sure, the thought of never seeing any of them again, the thought of being done with Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Barbara and everyone in his life he currently held dear once and for all made it feel as though his heart was being ripped out of his chest only to be shoved back down his throat to stop the flow of air into his body—but it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter, not nearly as much as they did. This would be for their own good.

Tim was leaving, and it turned out to be easier than he thought it would be in the end. Not emotionally easier, but logistically easier. Bruce had been extra attentive lately, so he thought he’d have to fake an injury and get ‘benched’ so that they would lower their guard long enough for him to slip away. But by some divine stroke of luck, a new player had waltzed onto Gotham’s criminal scene not too long after Tim’s Fake Uncle plan fell through and started making threats against Batman and Robin. They had apparently freaked B out enough to prompt him to send Tim off to Titan’s Tower to ‘focus on his team for awhile’. Tim had accepted the command with the requisite amount of complaint, planted some fake texts to make it look like he’d actually communicated to his Team that he would be there, shoved everything from his guest room in the Manor that he couldn’t bear to part with into a duffel bag underneath a spare uniform, gave Bruce what only he knew was a more emotionally charged nod goodbye than usual, and then poof. Tim Drake was zapped out of the Batcave for the last time ever.

He let himself have one night in the Tower. Partly to catch a few hours of sleep in a familiar and secure environment, but mostly so he could clean up his room for its next occupant, sweep his belongings and his person for any extra trackers, and repack his bag more efficiently. He also took the time to grab a spare backpack and fill it up with emergency rations. While he was taking plenty of cash, he didn’t want to risk having to go into stores with security cameras for a while, at least until he’d cleared a suitable distance from San Francisco proper as well as implemented the first of his many planned disguises. He didn’t think a bottle of cheap hair dye and some colored contacts would be enough to fool Oracle indefinitely, but if he was appropriately cautious it might keep her from getting a confirmation of his location long enough for the Bats to either get bored looking for him or to actually realize they were better off without him around.

When the early rays of dawn started to bathe the sides of Titan’s Tower in ember colored light, he was off. He left behind seven trackers pulled from his clothes and bag and one more from behind his ear; he’d kept the one he noticed in his favorite pair of sneakers because it was a type that wouldn’t start transmitting data until the Bats actively started tracking it and he was hoping to find someone who wore his size at the bus station he could pay to wear them so he could throw them off for even longer. If all else failed, he would just toss them in an out of the way trash can. He had also left a letter of resignation for Batman that he’d whipped up based off of an online template, signed and sealed and awaiting discovery atop the pillow in his nearly empty dorm room (he had tried for something more personal, a longer note of explanation for Bruce about why he couldn’t stay despite being asked, but—the words just wouldn’t come, and he’d been running out of time). His bag was heavy, courtesy of all of the extra supplies he’d grabbed in anticipation of having to evade not only Batman’s team but the rest of the Justice League. His heart was heavy, courtesy of emotional baggage that he wished was as easy to unpack as his actual bags would be when he finally found somewhere to settle.

He boarded the first bus he saw after he’d gone a few blocks and took a seat towards the back, where he leaned against the window and stared back at the iconic giant T that he used to belong in, however briefly, until it disappeared from sight. And just like that, Tim Drake’s life as Robin was over.

—

To Whom It May Concern:

This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately.

Thank you so much for the opportunity to work with you all for the past three years. I’ve enjoyed getting to know the team and appreciated the opportunity to learn about vigilantism and hone my detective skills. I’m excited to take these skills with me as I pursue the next step of my career.

During the past two weeks, I have done everything possible to wrap up any ongoing cases and leave no unfinished business. The Robin suit as well as my spare have been cleaned and placed in the armory of Titan’s Tower along with any gear I have been issued.

I wish Batman and team the best, but am afraid I will be out of contact for the foreseeable future.

Sincerely,

T. J. Drake

—

Red Hood stalked into Titan’s Tower with all the grace of a wildcat closing in on its prey, his vicious smirk hidden by his helmet, his unauthorized entrance hidden by virtue of the heroes’ own stupidity in failing to remove his codes from the database. Seriously—he’d thought gaining entry into their so-called fortress would be the hardest part of this little trip, and had only tried his access codes for the sake of checking the most stupidly obvious Plan A off his list! For them to work, to realize that there was nothing truly separating the precious sidekicks from the wrath of a vengeance minded crime lord, well… it sure made the message he was about to send feel all the more poignant.

He had come equipped to subdue an entire horde of Teeny Titans without hurting them (much), but to his surprise, the tower was empty of kid sidekicks despite Robin having been sent to work with his team yesterday afternoon, a fact Jason had gleaned last night from listening to the mind numbing chatter of Nightwing being bored on a stakeout and wanting to chat with anyone over the comms Jason had hacked into. Which he’d done in order to better plan his aggressive takeover of Crime Alley, not because he missed hearing his family’s voices. Nope.

(Since coming back to Gotham, it had been more difficult than he anticipated to stick to the plan when some part of his mind still stubbornly clung to those foolish, childhood dreams of belonging and family and a father who gave a shit and things like that, and kept popping up with annoying questions like ‘what if he revealed his identity to Dick or Alfred or someone just to see if maybe Talia had been right and they’d want him back after all. Clearly, the existence of a new Robin meant that they’d never really given a damn about him, so he was going to go through with this thing, just watch him.)

Truly this had to be fate, because the path to Robin was practically unfolding before him with no barriers. All that was left to do was find where in this gigantic clubhouse the itty little birdie was nesting. Jason tried the common room first. Then the kitchen. Then the rec room. And then the training floor. And the med bay. And then the armory, where he found Robin’s suit, but no actual Robin. He supposed the next place to check would be Robin’s bedroom, because even though it was well past eleven, Drake was a teenager and could conceivably be sleeping in, especially since there was no Alfred around to rouse him at a reasonable hour. Luckily, the doors on the floor with sleeping quarters were all clearly marked with either the name or symbol of the person it belonged to, so it was easy enough to find the one with that all too familiar stylized ‘R’. Jason paused to take a steadying breath before gritting his teeth and deciding to really make an entrance by kicking down the door.

…To an empty bedroom. Like, not just devoid of Tim Drake, but also devoid of books, trinkets, photos, decoration, clothes, dishes, mess, et cetera, et cetera. It looked as clean and sterile as a hotel room, and if Jason hadn’t literally just seen Robin’s insignia on the door he would think he’d entered an unassigned room by mistake. He frowned and yanked off his helmet, as if looking with his own two eyes would suddenly change the scene, but no. Nothing. He strode into the room and yanked open the closet—empty. He walked over to the desk and yanked open the top drawer—empty. He yanked open the bottom drawer, and mostly empty except for—wait, was that a pile of deactivated Bat trackers? Fucking bizarre. When he stood up, he glanced around again, and this time something on the bed caught his eye. It had been easy to miss against the white pillowcase, but there was an envelope tucked up against the pillow. With a scowl, he stalked over and grabbed it.

When Jason flipped it over, he noted that it was addressed to Batman, but decided that since he was a crime lord now he didn’t have to care about something as trivial as opening someone else’s mail. He didn't want to take off his gloves and risk leaving prints on anything, so he pulled out a dagger and used it to slice open the envelope. As he flipped it over to dump its contents on the desk, he had the fleeting thought that he probably should have put back on his mask in case this had been some villain’s ploy to poison Batman, but luckily all that fell out was a single sheet of printer paper folded into thirds.

This he was careful not to damage as he unfolded it. It wasn’t a long note, just a few small paragraphs, so it was quick enough to read: To whom it may concern. This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately…

Jason dropped the letter and took a step back, staring at the innocuous piece of paper with wide eyes and racing thoughts. Robin had—Drake wasn’t—Timothy—the kid, he was quitting? Leaving? Gone?

It could be a trap. It probably was a trap. Except Robin shouldn’t have had any way of knowing Red Hood would be able to track him all the way to Titan’s Tower so why would he have set a trap for him in the first place? A trap for someone else, then? If it was, it was really, really stupid of him because the kid had signed his resignation letter from Robin with his actual name, and surely he wouldn’t have made it this far if he were that careless with his identity. So, it was either a very bad trap, or not a trap at all. And if it was not a trap at all, then…

Then Robin had… resigned. Which, ok, Jason’s stated goal coming into this thing was to get Tim Drake to stop being Robin. So he should be happy about this, right? Except he’d not gotten to toss the kid around and work out his aggression at all so there was no satisfaction in it. Also, the timing was fucking obnoxious. Go figure that the very day he decides to do something about his replacement, the kid decides to peace out of the Gotham vigilante scene and… and go…

… Somewhere. Jason had no idea where Tim Drake would go if he were no longer Robin. Given how he’d waited until he was alone and then left the note to be found on the other side of the country, Jason had a sneaking suspicion that returning to Gotham was currently off the table. The letter had said he would be ‘out of contact’ for the foreseeable future; Jason could read between the lines enough to figure out that meant he was running away.

—Which, fuck. Another Robin was running away from Batman because of… well, Jason didn’t know what this kid’s issue with B was, but there were plenty of potential flaws in the man to choose from so Jason was going to play it safe and assume it was something Bruce did. Clearly, the man could never learn. And now, this poor dumb Robin was going to pay the price! Jason was more than familiar with the number of horrors that awaited kids who ended up on their own. He could starve; he could freeze to death; he could catch some disease like the flu, or get cut on a rusty nail and get tetanus, and then die from it because he couldn’t access medical treatment. He could get mugged, or harassed by cops, or snatched up by traffickers, or—

And fine; Jason himself had meant to hurt him. But that had been for ideological purposes, to prove a point about putting children in danger and not taking good enough care of them and stuff. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt him that badly, just bad enough to freak out Bruce a bit. But Jason was also the Red Hood, and the Red Hood’s mission was to do what was necessary to stop awful shit from happening to vulnerable kids. And this stupid, stupid letter was apparently enough to abruptly transfer Timothy Drake into that category in his head.

Everything Jason had heard about the kid said he was smart, and the timing of his disappearance pointed to some thoughtful planning on his part. Jason could imagine that the little shit had some sort of plan in place to evade Batman’s attempts to locate him, and he probably could manage to run without getting caught by Bruce and the Gotham team for a while. Heck, the kid probably had strategies to get away from most if not all of the Justice League members, since B was sure to call in favors once he got frantic enough about the little bird. But one thing the kid likely did not plan for was being pursued by him. Ex-Robin, currently a crime lord, League of Assassins connections, and a bone to pick with Timothy specifically? (He ran away from home and left a fucking resignation letter about it? Does he not realize what that would do to Dick, to Alfred, to Bruce—)

After stuffing the letter into his pocket, Jason put back on his helmet and stalked out of Titans Tower as silently as he’d arrived, this time with a new yet equally furious purpose sharpening his steps. Sucked to be Timothy Drake, he thought, because the Red Hood got his message and he was officially concerned.

#my writing #my fanfic #tim drake #jason todd #to whom it may concern #would be what this fic is called if I ever continue it haha #but this is as far as I got and then kinda lost steam #but it stands as a one shot pretty nicely so I thought I'd share it here see what people thought. ya know.#could it be a multi chapter fic one day? sure. what do I know. will it be soon? probably not.#um ok what else #unreliable narrator #tim drake has self worth issues #are probably the two most critical tags/warnings for this one.#anyway actually being on desktop is giving me way too much power look at me go all these tags and no typos damn!

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moonlight0934 · 10 days ago

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Joker Junior, Your Unreliable Narrator

Joker paces in front of Tim, who is unclear on what’s happening.

“Oh, Junior.”

Is he talking to me? That’s not my name, is it? I thought it was Tim.

“Junior, Junior, Junior, you’re such a naughty little boy. Why did you break Daddy’s restraints?”

Tim looks at where Joker is pointing. Joker is wearing a disapproving look as he directs Tim’s attention to a metal table with broken straps.

“I did that?” Tim asks, his voice sounding off. Almost like it’s not supposed to sound that way.

I sound so serious. I think I just need to lighten up a bit.

Tim giggles.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember doing that, but I’m sorry.”

“Aw, it’s ok, Junior.”

“My name isn’t Junior.”

Joker’s eyes narrow, and some part of Tim knows that something is about to happen. That something is wrong. He ignores it though as he does with most of his fleeting thoughts. He can’t seem to grasp anything for more than a few seconds.

“Do you mean that your name is Joker? You were named after your dad, so you’re Junior, and I’m Senior. Do you understand, or do you need more of your meds to help you understand?”

“I think I understand, but I thought my name was Tim.”

“Tim?” Joker sneers, his face twisting.

Tim cocks his head to the side.

“Is someone else Tim? Do I know him?”

“I think you’re confused, Junior. I’ll get your meds, and then you can take a nap while Mommy makes dinner.”

“Mom doesn’t like to cook?”

Tim finds himself thinking of a woman with light brown hair, and blue eyes.

“Of course your mother likes to cook. She loves to cook.”

Tim finds himself nodding along though he’s not sure what he’s agreeing with. Joker walks to another table, and grabs a syringe.

Man, I don’t like shots.

Joker walks back over, and Tim flinches when Joker reaches for his arm. Joker slaps him across the face, knocking him to the ground. Then he roughly grabs Tim’s arm, and jams the needle into Tim’s skin. Tim feels everything float away quickly after that.

Junior wakes up slowly. His head feels funny, and nothing really makes sense.

Where are Mommy and Daddy? I don’t feel good.

He sits up, realizing that he’s on the bed that’s nestled in the corner. Normally he sleeps on the table, and the bed is reserved for Mommy and Daddy.

It must not be sleeping time. I’m so glad that they trust me to nap by myself without tying me down.

Junior stands up, his legs feeling a little weak, but he pushes through it.

I want to find Mommy.

There’s a blonde woman in his head with white face makeup and wild eyes that gives him a soft smile. He wanders over to the door, it’s locked. So, he sits down on the floor to wait for his mommy to come back. However, it doesn’t take long for him to get bored. Junior jumps to his feet, then begins racing around, trying to find something to do.

He finds some spare materials that are lying around, and then throws himself back down to work. He loses track of time quickly, for once not even wondering where the information that his brain is giving him came from. Joker and Harley come in after a while, and they both stop at the sight in front of them.

“Daddy, Mommy, hi. I made something for you,” Junior says, jumping to his feet.

He runs over, and holds out the makeshift bomb he just made.

“Aw, Junior, you made us a bomb? That’s so nice, sweetie. Can you believe that we missed his first bomb?” Harley asks, elbowing Joker.

“No, I can’t. That’s very thoughtful of you. We’re going to use this tonight.” He puts it to the side. “Now, Mommy and I made dinner together. Can we trust you to behave if we go eat dinner in a different room?”

I haven’t been in any other rooms. Yes, this is awesome!

“Of course you can, Daddy. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t give me permission to.”

Harley smiles widely at Joker, then back at Junior.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re having such a good day, baby. Daddy was worried, but your memory seems to be improving. You remember who you are, and who we are, right?”

“Yep, I’m JJ, and you guys are my parents. My only parents.”

I feel like I’ve heard this before, but why would I have any other parents? That’s so stupid.

“Good. That’s my good little JJ.”

Junior nods enthusiastically.

“I think this means that he can get his hair done awake tomorrow night,” Joker says, sounding happy.

Junior laughs, and the noise sounds just right to his ears. He doesn’t sound serious anymore.

Well, I don’t need to be serious around my Mommy and Daddy.

Harley takes Junior’s hand, and they walk out of the door. Junior’s eyes dart around, taking in everything even though it’s just a hallway. The hallway is crumbling concrete just like everything else, but Junior still takes everything in like it’s a castle. Joker opens up a door which leads to a very bright dining room. There’s a table that has a green table cloth, and the room itself is decorated for a party.

“Woah, Daddy, this is so much color. The table looks like your hair.”

Junior laughs again, but this time Joker joins in.

Wow, I sound so much like my Daddy. That is so cool. Wait, do I want to sound like him?

Junior turns back to Harley.

“Thank you guys for making dinner.”

“Any time, Pumpkin.”

Harley sits him down on the left hand side of the head of the table. The plates are just paper plates, but Junior’s has a cute design drawn on it.

“I drew that for you.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

Harley beams at Junior, and he grins back. They end up talking about how exactly Junior put the bomb together over dinner. Eventually Harley takes Junior back to his room while Joker goes to get ready for their plans for the night. Harley tucks Junior into the actual bed.

“We won’t be back tonight, but I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you, sugar.”

Junior nods. “Thank you for loving me, Mommy.”

Harley beams at him as she walks back out. Junior can hear her tell Joker, “I can barely bear to be away from him. I love him so much, and he’s turning out so well.”

Junior smiles, letting his eyes fall closed.

Tim wakes up wondering where he is. He’s alone, but there’s loud laughter coming closer to him.

Wait, who is Tim? Oh, well it probably shouldn’t concern me.

Junior stretches with a yawn. Joker and Harley walk in, holding hands.

“How are you feeling today, Junior? Do you need more meds?”

Junior shakes his head. “No, Daddy. I know exactly who I am, and what my life is like. I don’t need anything.”

“Ok, well, that’s wonderful. You’re going to be helping Daddy put together a few toys for our nemesis. Do you know who that is?”

“Batman, right?”

“That’s right. Good job, Junior. Now tell your mother that you love her, and give her a hug before we get started.”

“Good morning, Mommy. I love you,” Junior says, running over to hug Harley.

She hugs him tightly before tilting his face up. “Can I do his makeup before you get started?”

“Of course you can. I’ll get everything set up.”

Junior follows Harley to the bathroom, and she starts putting makeup on his face. Tim wonders briefly why he trusts Harley Quinn to touch his face, but the thought is gone almost as soon as it shows up.

“Are you alright, Junior? You looked apprehensive for a second.”

Well that’s a big word for such a dumb bitch.

“I’m fine, Mommy. Thank you for doing my makeup and making me look pretty.”

“Aw, it’s no problem, baby.”

Harley kisses the top of Junior’s head, then takes his hand to walk him back to the other room.

Joker looks up when they walk in. “You look good, sonny boy.”

Junior smiles at the compliment. “Thank you.”

Stuff is scattered across the table, and Junior cocks his head.

“This is for more bombs, right? Bigger ones, or lots of smaller ones. These are much better materials than the ones I had yesterday.”

Joker nods. “I didn’t realize that you knew quite that much about bombs, but since you do, you can help me. Only with supervision of course.”

They sit making bombs, Junior laughing at all of Joker’s stupid jokes. They spend almost the entire day making bombs.

“Ok, you’re going to get a shower, and then we’re going to redye your hair,” Joker says after dinner.

“Ok, do you guys need any help cleaning up?”

Joker shakes his head. “No, your mother and I have that down. Just go.”

Junior goes back to his room, grabs more clothes, and heads to the bathroom to shower. He finds himself tracing the scars across his abdomen after taking his shirt off. Joker comes to the bathroom a few minutes after Junior finishes his shower.

“Are you done, son?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m done.”

Joker walks in to find Junior with his arms folded tightly across his stomach. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, but…”

Harley steps into the doorway as well.

“Why am I ugly?” Junior asks, his brow furrowed.

“You’re not ugly, sugar. Why would you ask that?”

Junior moves his arms to show off his scars. “I have a lot of ugly spots.”

“Those aren’t ugly. They’re proof that you’re a good person. That you’ve fought off the people in the world that have tried to put you in a box. People that have tried to make you like everyone else. That you’ve fought against people like Batman who try to ruin everything good about you.”

Junior looks down. “Ok, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Now, let’s get your hair dyed.”

It’s not a long process since it’s mostly just touching up his roots, but Junior feels happier when he sees that there’s no black roots poking out from between the green.

“This is better,” Junior says with a nod.

Joker and Harley put Junior to bed before heading out together. Junior is about to drift off when he hears Joker start talking again.

“He’s turning out well, huh? This boy is going to be my ultimate revenge against Batman.”

“Yeah, he’s turning out well. Our little Joker Junior,” Harley says happily.

Junior wonders for a second what Joker means by revenge, but he doesn’t dwell on it too long. He lets himself drift off to sleep instead.

#whumptober2024 #whumptober #no. 18 #batman #joker junior #unreliable narrator #loss of identity #batfamily #tim drake #dc joker #harley quinn #whump writing #writing challenge

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nana-mizu-shiki · 4 months ago

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His ass was out and he isn't even gonna get paid for it!

But Tim's used to not getting an answer to that particular question.

These two were only from the first chapter bc I didn't want to spoil, but I read through the first 19 chapters (it's unfinished) and this fic is absolutely hilarious and filled w/ angst (even if majority is hidden behind Unreliable Narrator, it is still visibly there)

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psychologeek · 5 days ago

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Whumptober #18+Alt 7

Alt 7: No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

No. 18: REVENGE | Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

"He should have stopped after the last one got himself killed!" Screams the crime lord and takes the shot.

"What are you talking about?" Robin asks and dodges the bullet.

(He can't hold much longer.)

"No. More. Dead. Robins." The deep growl echoes in the dark building like bullets.

Not to be confused with the actual bullets Tim is currently avoiding. He thinks Dick would love that punchline. Or not, actually. He's always weird about Robin and near-death-experience. Quite hypocritical, if you ask Tim. But no one ask him, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"Dude," he hides behind the kitchen aisle and tries to de-escalate the situation. "Do you really think Batman made me do anything?"

The man doesn't reply.

From his hiding place, Tim can see him approach.

"What happened to the 'no more dead Robins', you said before?"

But it's his last resort, and they both know that.

(He takes a moment to wonder who will find his body. He hopes it won't be Bruce.

He shouldn't face another broken Robin.)

Red Hood raises his hand, and Tim prepares himself for the strike.

(It doesn't hit.)

Instead, there's an electronic beep as Hood takes off his helmet.

"Don't talk to me about dead Robins, Replacement," says Jason Todd with glowing green eyes. "You know nothing about it."

And Tim-

Tim.exe just. Stops working for a little while. (Because it's robin it's Robin it's ROBIN.)

"Still believe that Batman is coming for you, Robin?"

And his hand is on Tim's neck. Slowly cutting his air supply

"It's not- Batman," the child whispers in his last breath.

The hand around his neck loosen up a little. "Oh yeah? Than what was it? Do just you make a habit of wearing the skin of the dead?"

(This close, Tim can smell something acidic and sweet in his killer's breath. Like rotten cucumbers and expired syrup. It makes him feel sick.)

"GNU," he says. "I- I believed in you, Robin."

(Like it? I have more mini-fics Whumptober index | And full size fics on ao3. )

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red-jaebyrd · 7 months ago

Text

A New Bird in the Nest

Summary: What if Jason survived Ethiopia and Bruce adopted Tim early? Jason has many insecurities about the new addition to Wayne Manor and it doesn’t help that Bruce has been avoiding Jason since he came back from the hospital. The fear of being replaced and pushed out looms over Jason and it all starts when a kid named Tim Drake moves in. This fic was inspired by this beautiful piece of art by @ky-landfill

It had been almost three months since Ethiopia and Jason was still walking on eggshells around Bruce. Lately Bruce was all clipped tones and clenched jawed whenever Jason attempted to start a conversation with him. After a while Jason gave up trying to talk to Bruce altogether. With a heavy heart Jason came to the harsh realization that Bruce was obviously still mad at him about Ethiopia.

Bruce was always busy now that Jason was home from the hospital. And while Jason was no longer confined to a bed and could now get around with the help of crutches, Bruce was hardly home. When he was home, Bruce was either holed up in the Cave or his study at all hours. At mealtimes he was constantly hiding behind a newspaper or hyper-focused on a tablet to avoid talking to Jason. Whenever his eyes would wander and meet Jason’s, it was always met with worry lines and a furrowed brow. It got on Jason’s nerves. He didn’t want Bruce’s pity. He just wanted Bruce to talk to him without snapping.

The only time they had talked was in the car on the way to Jason’s PT or to various doctor’s appointments. The conversations always mainly focused on the progress and recovery of Jason’s leg and nothing else. Jason figured it was probably easier for Bruce to talk to him if he didn’t have to actually look at him.

Since Jason had come home from the hospital Bruce had restricted Jason’s access to the Cave. He had told Jason that he didn’t want him to be in the Cave using numerous excuses like the flooring was unstable and would interfere with his crutches. There were also no handrails or any feasible way to install them.

Bruce’s cutoff of Robin spoke volumes to Jason without Bruce ever having to say much to him.

Continue on A03

Dick was visiting at the Manor today. Jason always looked forward to Dick’s visits, but he would never admit that to his older brother. When Jason had arrived home from the hospital, Dick had temporarily moved back into the Manor to help with Jason’s care.

At first Jason resented the gesture, mostly because he thought Dick was doing it out of guilt, but after a while it didn’t matter why Dick decided to stay at the Manor, Jason liked having him around. Not to mention Dick was a great buffer between him and Bruce.

Last week Dick had moved back to his apartment in Bludhaven. It was time for Dick to go back to his city and as much as Jason didn’t want him to go, he knew Dick had responsibilities he needed to get back to. Jason missed hanging out with his older brother every day, but Dick had promised to stop by and visit at least every other weekend.

This weekend Dick came, and they were hanging out the kitchen munching on Alfred’s delicious chicken salad sandwiches when Dick surprised Jason with a question.

“Have you and Bruce talked at all about what happened in Ethiopia?” Dick broached, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“No,” Jason swallowed, putting his sandwich down and grabbing some chips. “We haven’t talked about that day. He doesn’t really talk to me anymore. Not that he ever talked a lot before, you know, but this is different. He snaps at me sometimes and stops mid-sentence. It’s like he wants to say something to me, but then he doesn’t.” Jason’s shoulders were inching toward his ears. “I think – I think he’s still mad at me.”

“He’s not mad at you,” Dick sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration and muttering a ‘Dammit Bruce’ under his breath. “Believe me. He’s – he’s just overwhelmed with what could have happened and he’s bad at communicating that fear to you.” Dick rubbed his hands together over his plate to discard the crumbs. He put his hand on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed. “You almost died, Jay and for him it wasn’t the first time he’d almost lost his kid to a rogue. He’s not upset with you. Give him time.”

Jason scowled at Dick. How much more time did Jason need to give Bruce? It had been at almost three months. Jason pushed his plate away from him and rubbed the crumbs from his hands onto his jeans. The sandwich now felt like stone in his stomach.

“He won’t let me back in the Cave. Do you think – do you think he’ll take Robin away?” Jason inquired, picking at his sandwich just to give his hands something to do.

“The truth?” Dick asked, leveling a look at Jason.

Jason nodded.

“He should. At least for –,“

“But I didn’t mean to –,“ Jason interrupted, his eyes wide at Dick’s answer.

Dick held up his hands in a placating manner “Let me finish. He should take it away at least for now. Maybe allowing a kid at 13 to fight dangerous criminals wasn’t the brightest idea on his part.”

“You did it at 9 years old,” Jason argued, clenching his fists at the table.

He couldn’t believe the hypocrite Dick was being when it came to Robin. He thought Dick would understand.

“Our situations were different,” Dick countered, raising his voice a little. “I didn’t give Bruce a choice in the matter. I was going to find my parents’ killer with or without his help. Robin was a way for me to be out there making a difference and seeking justice for my parents.”

“I don’t know why I even asked you,” Jason snapped, crossing his arms. “You never liked me being Robin in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dick retorted, his jaw clenching. Jason recoiled at the quick response. “Robin was mine. It was my mantle to hand over to a successor, not Bruce. I was replaced before I even got a say in the matter.”

Jason lips parted to say something but all he could do was glare at Dick. Dick had never let him forget that he had been replaced.

Dick got up from the table and placed his plate and glass in the sink.

Jason chanced a look at Dick who had his back turned to him with his arms braced at the sink edge. His shoulders tense. After a while Dick turned on the faucet and began to wash his dishes.

Now Dick was going to give him the silent treatment just like Bruce. Jason sighed and rubbed his forehead. He really did have a knack for messing things up and pissing people off. He couldn’t afford right now to have yet another person in his life not speaking to him; especially Dick. They just started getting to know each other again.

He never should’ve said anything to Dick about Robin.

“I never liked that he made you Robin, but…” Dick admitted, breaking the silence and turning off the water.

Here we go, Jason thought, bracing himself for Dick to lay into him.

“I quickly saw in you what Bruce did, that you were the right choice for the mantle,” Dick continued, his voice gentle and even. Jason blinked and looked up at Dick. The older man was now facing Jason drying his hands on a dishtowel. All signs of anger gone as the brightness returned to Dick’s eyes.

Jason gave him a small smile. Dick didn’t have to say that last part to him. Jason picked up his plate and limped to a drawer next to the sink for a Ziploc bag. He placed the reminder of his sandwich in it and hobbled to put it in the fridge. Dick took his plate, turned on the water, and began to wash it. Jason headed back to his chair at the table.

“Do –,” Jason hesitated, steeling himself for his next question. He padded his finger against a scratch on the wood. “-do you think he’ll replace me too?”

It was a question he hated asking out loud, especially to Dick, he didn’t even know why he asked it. Maybe he was hoping for some support, a counter argument in his favor, a lie, or a platitude. However, Jason knew deep down Dick wouldn’t sugar coat his words.

“Not unless he decides to adopt another kid,” Dick snorted, turning off the water and drying his hands. “And I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

“Thanks for the reassurance, Dick,” Jason retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Jay, I’m kidding,” Dick teased, throwing a dish towel at Jason. “He’s not adopting another kid, okay?”

Jason nodded. He wanted to believe Dick, but Dick had now planted a seed of doubt. Considering Bruce’s track record there was always the possibility of Robin being replaced looming over Jason.

Two weeks later Jason was blindsided by the introduction to Tim Drake. A boy he had met briefly at a gala that Jason had attended with Bruce last year. He remembered trying to make conversation with the kid, but the interaction was awkward. The kid hadn’t been very talkative. While he had an overly friendly smile and gave Jason his full attention, the kid only nodded and gave Jason one word answers. Jason wasn’t sure if the kid was just shy or stuck up. Jason had concluded that the kid likely didn’t want to be seen talking to a street rat from Park Row and was just humoring him.

Bruce informed Alfred and Jason that Tim’s stay was a temporary emergency foster placement until a relative could be contacted.

Jason could deal with having a stranger in his house for a week or two, it didn’t mean he had to like him or spend time with him.

For the next several days, Jason avoided the new kid at all costs except at meal times, which were unavoidable. Alfred and Bruce wouldn’t allow him to take meals up to his room. Bruce even stopped hiding behind newspapers and tablets at the table futilely trying to engage the kid in conversation. The kid hardly talked but answered questions when asked. Bruce still sometimes stayed in his study, but he now started opening the door again. It was something he hadn’t done since Jason had come home from the hospital.

The changes in the house were obvious, and it stung that the kid was getting Bruce’s undivided attention.

Whatever.

The kid had exceptional table manners, which was expected considering where he came from, but it still rubbed Jason the wrong way. What was this kid trying to prove anyway, that he was better than Jason? No shit, Sherlock, that much was obvious. But it didn’t matter, the kid was soon moving out of Jason’s house and in with relatives. Jason would soon be rid of him.

It didn’t help matters that Dick and the new kid got along perfectly. Dick came over to the Manor right away to meet the new kid. The kid was completely enamored with Dick soaking up the frequent hair tousles and side hugs that Dick had always reserved for Jason.

First, the kid had stolen Bruce’s attention away from Jason, now he was stealing all of the time Jason would normally have with Dick.

About a week and half into the new kid’s stay, Bruce dropped the bomb that plans had changed, and the kid would now be staying with them at the Manor permanently. The kid was soon moved from a bedroom in the guest wing to a bedroom in the family wing next to Jason.

Jason’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Bruce had actually done the very thing Dick had teased him about almost two weeks ago, ‘not unless he adopts another kid’. It was actually happening.

Jason was being replaced! It was only a matter of time before Jason was completely out of the picture and the new kid became the new Robin.

He phoned Dick right away yelling at him that Bruce was replacing him with this new kid.

“This is all your fault,” Jason barked on the phone, slowly pacing his room.

“What’s my fault?” Dick asked.

“’Not unless he adopts another kid’ bullshit. Well it’s happening, because you’re the one who said it out loud,” Jason argued, clenching his jaw in frustration. It was a weak argument, but it was all Jason had at the moment. He had to blame someone.

“Jay, you can’t speak something into existence,” Dick snorted.

“I – I know that, dumbass,” Jason growled, irritated that Dick wasn’t taking him seriously. “I just didn’t think he’d ��.”

The lump in his throat cut off his words and made his breath hitch. This was all happening too fast for Jason. Bruce wasn’t supposed to get another kid this fast or at all. The kid was supposed to move in with relatives. Jason knew he wouldn’t be Robin forever, but he thought he’d have enough time to get used to not being Robin before Bruce went and replaced him.

“Jay, are you still there? Talk to me, bud,” Dick said, breaking the silence, all teasing gone from his voice. “Bruce isn’t replacing you, Little Wing. He’s simply giving a kid something he needs right now, a home and a family. Nothing more. Besides, Tim is harmless and a great kid. I hope you’re being nice to him.”

“Why does he need my home and my family?” Jason whined, sagging onto his bed. His leg throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

Jason knew he was being unreasonable. This kid had done nothing wrong except existing, yet Jason couldn’t bring himself to be nice because this kid was getting the one thing Jason had been wanting for the last two months – Bruce’s undivided attention; and now stealing the only thing he had left - his brother’s devotion.

“Because his family failed him, Jay,” Dick replied, his tone matter of fact yet gentle. “You know what that’s like. Just talk to him and try to get to know him. He’s a great kid.”

Jason couldn’t bring himself to start a conversation with the kid, not yet anyway, but he no longer glared at the kid at meals or slammed his door in the kid’s face. He’d nod whenever the kid said, ‘Good morning’ and no longer avoided the library when he saw the kid sitting in his favorite chair. He even kept his mouth shut when he saw the kid sitting in Bruce’s study just feet away from the Grandfather clock entrance to the Cave.

The more Jason paid quiet attention to the kid, the more he saw things that reminded him of his own upbringing with Willis and he didn’t like it. The kid knew how to stay out of the way. When he was not occupied elsewhere with Bruce or Alfred, the kid spent most of his time in his room. The kid never really ventured within the Manor by himself beyond the library or kitchen, even though he was given permission and encouraged to explore his surroundings.

At first, Jason actually liked it. It meant he didn’t have to run into the kid or spend any time with him. But soon Jason realized that the kid’s avoidance of everyone was a definite problem.

The kid was quiet and never brought any kind of attention to himself. He never complained about the food given to him, ever; and ate everything on his plate, even the gross under-seasoned brussel sprouts and cauliflower. Bruce didn’t even eat the brussel sprouts on his plate. Jason knew the kid hated them because he noticed the kid struggling to swallow every single one, but he never said anything to Alfred or Bruce. Bruce eventually told the kid that he didn’t have to eat anything he didn’t like, but it was like the kid didn’t hear him. The kid also never asked for seconds but would say yes when they were offered to him.

The weirdest thing of all, the kid never initiated any conversation with Bruce or Alfred unless they spoke to him first. The kid was literally the poster child for that saying, ‘children should be seen and not heard’.

He didn’t even speak up one particular evening when he started breaking out in hives at dinner.

Jason was the first one to notice something was wrong with the kid. It was only for a split second and the kid must have realized something wasn’t right either because he instantly put his head down. But it was too late, Jason had seen the red raised splotches on the kid’s neck and face. The kid was white-knuckling his cutlery, a piece of Alfred’s Pesto Penne was still dangling off his fork.

If Jason had the height and the strength, he would have kicked the kid under the table.

Say something, kid!

Jason wasn’t sure why he was getting so mad, but it was pissing him off that this kid was going through what looked like some sort of anaphylaxis episode and staying quiet. Jason still might not know how to talk to the kid, and maybe he was still a little angry at him for stealing Bruce and Dick, but he didn’t want him to die.

Could it be that the kid was genuinely afraid to disrespect adults that he’d put his health in danger and eat whatever was put in front of him?

Didn’t the kid know by now that Bruce wasn’t going to be mad at him for speaking up about an allergy? Hadn’t the kid spent enough time with Bruce to know that he’d never be shamed for something he couldn’t control.

“Bruce!” Jason yelled, finally getting the man’s attention. Bruce gave him a puzzled look. “Your new kid needs you.”

Just then the kid cleared his throat and made a weird and alarming wheezing sound. Bruce’s fork clattered on his plate the moment he laid eyes on the kid.

“Tim, are you okay?”

The kid’s eyes went wide. His eyes scanned frantically at Jason, Bruce and then Alfred, but he didn’t say a word.

“Tim, I need you to answer me, okay,” Bruce asked, keeping his voice low and calm. “Are you allergic to pine nuts?”

“No, I…I don’t know,” The kid swallowed, tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m…I’m allergic to almonds, but I’m…I’m okay.”

It was obvious to Jason and everyone else in the room that the kid was anything but okay.

“Alfred, get two epi-pens and call Leslie,” Bruce ordered, making his way to a chair closer to Tim to examine his face and neck.

“Right away, sir.”

“I’m okay,” The kid wheezed, moving his face away from Bruce. “Really, it’s f-fine.”

Jason couldn’t take it anymore. The kid was obviously not okay. Nothing about this was fine. The sooner he realized that the better.

“You’re not okay, you dummy! You don’t fuck around with food allergies!” Jason bellowed, banging his fists on the table to emphasize his point. “If you’re not feeling good because the food is making you sick, you fucking say something.”

“Jason,” Bruce warned, keeping his voice even while also leveling Jason with a glare.

He could see Bruce clenching his jaw as he went back to examining the kid. Jason ignored him. He didn’t care that he was making Bruce mad. Jason needed to finish telling the kid what he needed to hear.

“If you’re still hungry, ask for more food,” Jason continued, his voice getting louder. “If you don’t like the food, don’t eat it. Either way Bruce and Alfred won’t get mad!”

“Jason, you’re yelling,” Bruce stated, his voice low and gravely. “Lower your voice or you’ll need to leave the table.

Jason didn’t even know why he was yelling at the kid, but it felt good to get it out. A part of him was frustrated that the kid still didn’t see what he had here with Bruce – safety. Another part of him was irritated at himself for acting like a complete asshole hating this kid for no reason other than existing and taking up space. Realizing too late that this kid was just like him when he first came to live here, scared and mistrustful of adults.

Jason wasn’t done yet. There was one last thing Jason needed the kid to hear and understand about the way things worked with Bruce and Alfred. Something Dick actually told him when Jason first came to the Manor.

“No one here is going to make you do what you don’t want to do,” Jason emphasized, grabbing his crutch, and getting up from his chair. “But they won’t know what you want if you don’t fucking say something.”

He added that last bit.

“Jason, that is enough,” Bruce scolded, his voice loud enough to make the crying kid next to him jump and Jason flinch.

Before Bruce could tell him to go to his room, Jason was already making his way to out of the dining room.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” the kid sobbed, his breaths hitching, while Bruce continued to examine the hives on his face and neck. “I’m so sorry for making a scene. Please…please don’t be mad. I’ll…I’ll do better. I promise.”

The last sentence was said in a whisper, but Jason heard it loud and clear. It felt like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t get out of the dining room fast enough. If only his stupid leg would let him run. He made his way out of the dining room and into the hallway. He leaned against the wall taking deep breaths.

What kind of parents did this kid have that he was scared of adults and knew nothing about his own food allergies?

Jason saw the signs once he had started to pay more attention. The obvious signs of abuse. They were right there at every meal, every encounter, plain as day, but Jason was too preoccupied with his own paranoia of being replaced, and blinded by Tim’s rich kid status and upbringing to think that someone of his background was being mistreated by his own parents.

Jason was an asshole.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Alfred walked briskly passed him into the dining room with the two epi-pens for Tim. Jason proceeded to head for the stairs.

Jason made it as far as the bottom of the stairs. He sat down on the steps and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the banister. The familiar throbbing of a migraine radiated from his left temple to the back of his head. After a while he heard familiar footsteps approaching him. It was Bruce.

“How’s the kid?” Jason asked, squinting at the harsh light of the chandelier above him.

“The epi-pens helped. Alfred is monitoring him in one of the downstairs bedrooms,” Bruce answered, sitting down on the step next to Jason. “Leslie is on her way to check on him.”

“Good,” Jason replied, nodding his head. “That’s…that’s good.”

They sat there on the steps in companionable silence. Jason could feel a lecture coming from Bruce. The migraine made it hard for Jason to care. Right now, all the fight in him had left.

“You can’t yell at him like that again, Jay,” Bruce warned, breaking the silence. “He didn’t deserve that from you at all.”

“I know,” Jason groaned, leaning his head against the banister again. “And I didn’t mean to yell, but the k-,“ Jason stopped himself, the kid had a name and he should probably start using it. “Tim needed to hear it. I’m not sorry for what I said.”

“You need to be nicer to your brother, Jay,” Bruce sighed, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion. “We need to make him feel welcome here.

Brother.

Jason let the word wash over him. He hadn’t really allowed himself to think of Tim in that way even though it was obvious that he’d be staying at the Manor permanently. It was all too much for Jason to think about at the moment.

“Bruce,” Jason breathed, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. “I don’t want to talk about him right now. My head is killing me.”

He knew he needed to talk to Bruce about Tim, but he couldn’t do it tonight. Right now his throbbing head wouldn’t let him think straight.

“Okay get some rest,” Bruce suggested, brushing Jason’s bangs from his forehead. “We definitely need to have a conversation. We’ll do that in the morning when you’re up for it.”

The next morning Jason took his time making it to Bruce’s study.

He had most of the morning to think about what he was going to say to Tim and Bruce. Jason wasn’t sure if he’d actually have the guts to admit out loud certain thoughts that had been rummaging around in his brain the last few weeks. Especially the big one concerning Robin.

Would Bruce take Robin from him and give it to Tim?

Before Jason realized it, he was in front of Bruce’s study. The door was opened. Bruce had always told Jason to feel free to come inside if the door wasn’t closed. His door hadn’t been opened in the months before Tim came to the Manor. Jason peeked inside from the doorway.

Bruce looked deep in thought as he perused over various papers from different file folders stacked on his desk. Jason was starting to have second thoughts.

“Hey Jason, what can I do for you?” Bruce asked, not looking up from what he was reading.

It always weirded Jason out when Bruce knew it was him without even looking at him. It was likely the squeaking sound from his crutch that gave him away.

“You look busy,” Jason observed, giving Bruce an out and hoping that he’d take it. He turned to leave. “I’ll come back.”

“I’m not busy, have a seat,” Bruce acknowledged, motioning to the sofa. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He closed the file folder he was reading, stood up from his desk chair, and stretched. He soon followed Jason to the sofa. “How’s your head, kiddo?”

“Better. I think I just needed to sleep it off,” Jason answered, sitting down and leaning his crutch against the arm of the sofa. Once he got a closer look at Bruce he could see dark circles under the man’s eyes. “Have you been here all night?” Jason gestured to Bruce’s desk.

“Pretty much. Though I did spend some of the night looking in on Tim,” Bruce sighed, sitting down on the sofa with Jason and rubbing his tired eyes.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s much better, just tired. He’s back in his room if you wanted to go see him later and talk.”

Jason nodded. It was Bruce’s way of telling Jason that he needed to apologize to Tim. He had planned on visiting Tim after this, though he’d understand if Tim wasn’t up for it considering the way Jason yelled at him last night.

“Anyway, I’m just trying to see if I had missed something in any of Tim’s records,” Bruce continued, leaning back on the sofa. “They’re all pretty vague and don’t go back that far. There aren’t any details about any known allergies or yearly well checks, no documentation about any allergy testing except the most recent one that revealed an allergy to almonds. His immunization record stops at 5 years old.”

“But his parents have money, right? If they live in this neighborhood,” Jason snapped, folding his arms. “How could they just not take him to the doctor?”

“You’d be surprised by the priorities some people have in this town,” Bruce criticized. “Sadly, their children are not on the top of that list.”

Jason shook his head. It didn’t make any sense to him. Tim’s parents had money. Maybe not as much money as Bruce, but they could afford to take Tim to the best doctors for yearly check-ups and specialists to help him with his allergies. Instead, they chose to prioritize their jobs and lifestyle instead of their kid.

“Is that the reason he’s living here with us now? Because his parents didn’t take good care of him?”

“Among other things, yes,” Bruce answered. “Tim’s home life wasn’t great. From what little he told me his parents left him home alone for extended amounts of time at a fairly young age. For his safety and wellbeing, it was necessary for him to be removed from his parents. He needed a home with stability and most of all a family. I felt that we could be all of that for him.”

Jason’s shoulders dropped hearing all of this from Bruce. Tim was a lonely and abused kid, just like Jason had been. Bruce opened his heart and his home again to a boy in need. It now all made sense why Bruce had been spending so much time with Tim. He wasn’t trying to replace Jason. He was trying to make Tim feel at home; just as Jason should have been doing instead of slamming doors in the poor kid’s face.

“I realize now that the timing of his arrival was awful, and I’m sorry,” Bruce continued, interrupting Jason’s thoughts. He placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I know this type of major change was the last thing you needed while you are still recovering.”

Jason nodded. He leaned his head back on the pillows to process everything Bruce had just said. Bruce wasn’t wrong, the timing of Tim’s arrival did suck as it played on Jason’s already frayed emotions. But after last night it made it easier to understand Tim’s sudden placement with Bruce.

Bruce saw a kid in trouble and did what came naturally to him. He did the same for Jason four years ago, of course he would do the same thing for Tim. Jason rubbed his face harshly. He felt like an idiot for not making this connection much sooner. Bruce had reached out to be Tim’s family, just like he had done for Jason, because Tim needed a family. Bruce didn’t need another kid. It was all about helping a kid in need.

So, he’s not here to replace me.

“What? No, Jason, I would never do that– what made you think I would –,” Bruce stammered, his wide eyes searching Jason.

Oh shit.

Jason didn’t mean to say that out loud.

But before he could think of something else to say, all the thoughts that had been festering in his brain since Tim had arrived came pouring out of his mouth.

“– because you weren’t talking to me. I thought you were still pissed at me for running away. And when Tim came you were spending all your time with him that you used to spend with me,” Jason blurted out in quick succession. His vision started to blur with tears. He really didn’t want to cry, but the tears were already flowing down his cheeks. “and – and maybe I thought that you liked him better because – because he’s a good kid with perfect manners who never talked back or complained, and he’s not – not a mouthy screw up like me who messed everything up.”

Jason’s eyes widened as his brain caught up to the words that had just come out of his mouth. Every thought and fear that he had been dwelling on these past several weeks came out faster than he could contain them. There was no taking it back now.

“Jason, you’re not a screw up and you didn’t mess up anything.” Bruce affirmed, gently pulling Jason into a hug. Jason held on to Bruce like a lifeline, his tears continuing to fall. “Son, you didn’t mess up anything.”

Jason shook his head, but who was he kidding. He made a pretty big fucking mistake that almost got him and Bruce killed. How is Bruce not furious with him?

“It’s true that choices were made by both of us, good and bad and things took a serious turn, and – and for a second I thought I’d lost you,” Bruce sniffed, breaking the embrace to look at Jason. “But I didn’t. You survived and I’m so grateful every single day that you are here with me.

Bruce moved his hands to cup Jason’s face. He gently wiped away the tears from Jason’s cheeks with his thumbs. Jason kept trying to calm his breaths but they were still hitching with every sob. Why couldn’t Bruce have said all this to him sooner?

“I’m so thankful I get to watch you grow and see the person you will become,” Bruce continued, embracing Jason again and rubbing soothing circles on Jason’s back. “I’m so proud that you’re my son, and I love you just the way you are so please, don’t think for one second that I would ever want to replace you with someone else.”

There was still something that Jason needed to know from Bruce. A question he needed answered because he was tired of the subject being avoided and ignored. He was ready to take responsibly for his actions. He just needed Bruce to be straight-forward with him.

“Are you still mad at me?” Jason stammered, his bottom lip trembling. “About Ethiopia? It’s my fault –,”

“Oh, Jay, lad, no,” Bruce interrupted, his shoulders sinking. He hugged Jason tighter resting his cheek on the top of Jason’s curls. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you think that I was ever mad at you.”

Jason straightened in surprise at the words ‘I’m sorry’ coming from Bruce. Not that Bruce wasn’t capable of apologizing, but did Jason deserve it? It felt misplaced. He was the one that ran away and got himself in trouble. He was the one that nearly got himself killed and needed rescuing.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” Bruce continued, interrupting Jason’s thoughts. “I blame the people who hurt and betrayed you. I’m mad at myself for not giving you the answers you needed at the time that you were seeking them. I feel responsible for making you think that you had to go halfway across the world in search of those answers. I’m angry that the one person who should have cherished you for the gift that you are betrayed you to a madman.

“I allowed my anger toward them to fester and instead of talking about what had happened in Ethiopia with you, I internalized it. I’m sorry, Jason,” Bruce apologized. “I am so sorry for pushing you away at a crucial time when you needed me; that will never happen again. Understood.”

“Understood.”

Jason blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He wasn’t expecting Bruce to say all of that to him, but it was a relief to hear that Bruce’s anger wasn’t because of him. It felt like an invisible weight had been lifted from Jason’s shoulders. Bruce wasn’t mad at him, and he didn’t blame Jason for what had happened in Ethiopia.

“I’m so grateful that you’re alive and here with me,” Bruce repeated, pulling Jason in for another hug.

They still hadn’t discussed Robin, but right now Jason felt that Robin could wait.

“I love you so much, Jason.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Later that afternoon Jason headed to Tim’s room. Jason still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Tim. The kid was likely scared of him now from all the yelling that had happened last night. He couldn’t blame the kid if he now hated him. Jason kind of deserved whatever attitude the kid gave him.

Jason took a deep breath before knocking on Tim’s door.

“Who is it,” a faint voice answered from inside the room.

“It’s Jason. Can I come in?”

“Yes,” Tim answered almost immediately.

Jason wondered if Tim had ever said no to anyone. He felt it was best to give this kid a way out just in case he’d rather be alone.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up for visitors,” Jason added, still not opening the door. “I can come back whenever you’re up for it.”

“I’m okay, you can come in.”

Jason opened the door and hoped the smile on his face looked genuine and didn’t scare Tim. It appeared that just him being in the room was enough to have the kid sitting up, hiding behind his knees and blankets.

“You’re not going to yell at me again, are you?” Tim asked, hugging his knees.

“No, Tim,” Jason laughed, making his way closer to Tim’s bed. “Not unless you give me a reason too.”

Tim’s eyes went wide.

“That was a joke,” Jason interjected quickly, before Tim burst into tears. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s try this again, how are you feeling?”

“Better, just tired. I’m not itching anymore, so that’s a relief. This one hit me harder than the almond reaction.”

Bruce had told Jason that it was only a few weeks ago that Tim had experienced anaphylaxis while home alone. This incident had prompted Tim’s removal from his parents and placed with Bruce.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Jason said, shifting his weight off his bad leg. It started throbbing in its standing prone position. “Allergic reactions suck.”

Just then the pain in his leg radiated from his hip to his knee. Jason couldn’t hide the hiss of pain that escaped between his clenched teeth. He looked up to see Tim looking at the long scar on his face and then his leg. Jason hated it when people stared.

“I think you need to sit down. You look like you’re in pain,” Tim suggested, gesturing to the armchair next to his bed. “This chair is really comfortable. I like sitting in it while I’m reading.”

“Thanks,” Jason breathed, trying to ignore the throbbing in his leg while making his way over to the chair. He noticed a familiar copy of ‘The Lightning Thief’ on Tim’s nightstand and picked it up.

“Bruce bought me the entire series. I just started it when I came here,” Tim explained. “I really like the story. I wasn’t allowed to read it before – before I came here.”

“Let me guess, your parents think gods and goddesses are evil?” Jason smirked.

“No, mother said ‘fantasy books are frivolous nonsense and not becoming of a future businessman.’”

Jason scowled. He was deeply insulted that the adults in Tim’s life had disparaged Jason’s first favorite genre of books. How dare they. It appeared that Jason had some work to do.

“I can recommend other fantasy books if you like the genre,” Jason offered, setting the book back on the nightstand. “When you’re feeling better we can go to the library. I’ll show you the fantasy section. It’s huge.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that,” Tim shrugged. “I know you don’t like me.”

Hearing Tim say it like that, so matter of fact and accepting, wiped the smile off Jason’s face. It sucked to know that he had left such a horrible impression on Tim and that Tim was giving him a way out. It was a pre-emptive strike to avoid the disappointment of rejection.

Jason was all too familiar with this tactic – he used to do it all the time to Bruce and Dick when he first came to live at the Manor.

He wondered how many times Tim had been hurt by the people closest to him to easily brush off simple offers and attention from others. It didn’t help that Jason’s actions over the past few weeks solidified Tim’s assumption that Jason really didn’t want to spend time with him.

Jason needed to fix this fast.

“I know I don’t have to show you the library, but I want to,” Jason cleared his throat, stretching his sore leg. “We can make up for lost time, okay?”

Tim nodded.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” Jason offered, sitting back in the chair. Tim wasn’t lying, this chair was comfortable.

Jason’s brain was screaming at him for daring to open himself up like this to Tim, a kid he hardly even knew. But deep down in his heart, Jason knew this was the right thing to do. It was a fair exchange. He couldn’t expect Tim to open up to him, if he didn’t budge himself.

“Um,” Tim hesitated, wringing his hands and looking anywhere but at Jason. He took a deep breath and returned his gaze to Jason. “What happened to your leg and –,“ Tim gestured to the left side of his own face which was the same place as Jason’s noticeably long scar.

Jason took a deep breath to steel himself. He knew this was going to be a question Tim would ask. He was hoping he wouldn’t ask this question right out of the gate, but he did open himself up to be asked any question. Jason wasn’t stupid enough to give Tim details but since this kid was his new ‘little brother’ Jason should probably be somewhat honest with him.

“It’s a long story, but the short version is I went and did something I shouldn’t have, and this happened,” Jason explained, gesturing to his face and his leg. “Can I ask you a question?”

Jason wasn’t sure the kid was going to answer his question once he heard it, but he had to give it a shot.

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know why you didn’t say anything to anyone at dinner when you were having a serious allergic reaction?” Jason asked, maintaining eye contact and using his best Robin voice.

Tim stayed quiet and Jason realized that maybe he had pushed too far with his first question. Part of him definitely wanted to give Tim an out, but the other part of him felt it was important for Tim to answer the question. Jason strongly believed that Tim needed to know from him that Tim would never be shamed or scolded by Bruce for speaking up when something was wrong.

“Mother says,” Tim swallowed, fisting his blankets and then hugging his knees again. “That making a scene at the dinner table in front of guests is rude; under no circumstances should I bring any kind of attention to myself.”

Jason had to take a few deep breaths to calm his rage and quiet a few choice words he wanted to voice out loud about these absurd rules and Tim’s parents.

“Tim, you were going into anaphylactic shock,” Jason explained, keeping his voice level like he does when talking to victims as Robin. “Saying something is always okay. Especially if you are in danger, or you just don’t feel good. You wouldn’t have been making a scene. Bruce doesn’t care about decorum all that much just as long as you don’t say ‘fuck’.”

The last sentence made Tim giggle. It was nice to know he could make the kid laugh.

“You’re safe here, Tim. I know firsthand that concept will take some getting used to but believe me. This place is safe. Bruce and Alfred like having you here and so do I,” Jason confessed. “It’s true. I know I didn’t show it in the beginning, and I’m very sorry about that. So, if you want, we can start over.”

Jason held his breath, pleading internally that Tim would forgive him for how Jason had treated him. He truly wanted to start over with Tim. Jason was looking forward to having a little brother.

“I’d like that”, Tim smiled. It was a smile that reached his eyes and brought out the dimples in his cheeks. “I just have one more question.” Tim hesitated, biting his lip. “It’s sort of a favor. It’s no big deal. You can say no if –,“

“Tim, I’m not going to say no unless you want me to move furniture,” Jason joked, trying to make Tim laugh. “What do you need?”

Tim looked longingly at the book sitting on his nightstand and then back at Jason.

“Can you read a bit of the book to me?” Tim begged. “I’m still dizzy from last night and every time I try to read, I get a headache.”

Jason blew out a breath and smiled. This request he had no problem saying yes to. He was just glad Tim didn’t ask him to leave.

“Of course,” Jason accepted, taking the book and thumbing to the page that had the bookmark. “How are you liking this book so far?

“I like it. I already liked Greek mythology, but this makes me like it even more. I don’t trust Luke,” Tim voiced off handedly. He looked at Jason nervously like he was waiting to be shut down for his opinion. “I know I probably should, but I don’t. I don’t care how much he’s helping Percy. There’s something not right about him.”

“I’m liking you more and more, Timmy,” Jason praised, giving him an easy smile. Tim definitely had a future in this family with those deduction skills. “Maintain that energy and sit tight. We’re gonna be here a while.”

Jason and Tim hung out more and more dividing their time together in the library, playing video games in the den, or hanging out in the kitchen baking cookies with Alfred. Jason helped Tim slowly come out of his shell around Bruce and Alfred. A red-faced Tim eventually confessed to Alfred that he hated fish, couldn’t tolerate the texture of carrots or brussel sprouts but loved broccoli, chicken, steak and pasta.

Having Tim around became the very thing Jason had needed all along. Hanging out with Tim kept him more active, which in turn helped the mobility in Jason’s leg. Even his physical therapist was impressed with the progress Jason had made over the past couple of weeks.

Jason liked being a little brother, but he liked being a big brother even more.

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