#Jason now fears the spoon in Tim’s hands | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barelyalivebutnotdead · 3 years

Conversation

Chaos

[The bat-brothers: Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian sitting at the dining table in the Wayne Manor. They all sit in chairs lines up, facing the Fanon version of themselves: 'Perceptions']

Tim: (reluctantly) So, these guys are our 'perceptions'?

Dick: (nodding, slightly uncomfortable) Yeah, Zatanna said she will drop by once she has figured out to fix this without collapsing the multiverse in on itself.

Tim: (gulps and points at Fanon!Tim sitting directly opposite to him) Why do I- I mean, why does he look like that?

[Cut to Fanon!Tim with sunken cheekbones, pale skin, skinny frame and dark, chapped lips. He looks undernourished and his eyes are laden with dark circles from sleep deprivation. He looks like a zombie.]

: readmore:

Tim: (whispering to his brothers to not offend the Fanon versions) He looks like a zombie...

Dick: (speechless)

Damian: (Smirks) That's the vibe you emit, Drake. Face the truth.

Jason: (also speechless, raised eyebrows, regrets life and death decisions that led up to this moment.)

Dick: (has the most optimistic 'wtf' look on his face looking at Fanon!Dick)

[Cut to Fanon!Dick sitting on the chair with a huge, 440-watt smile. He looks like the himbo version of a dog wagging his tail.]

Dick: (in both wonder and bemusement) I swear I can see rainbows and sunshine in his eyes...

[Dick internally wonders where Fanon!Dick got the childlike innocence from, considering his sanity has been crumbling for a long, long time now]

[THUMP!]

[Cut to Fanon!Tim faceplanting on the table. Jason looks like he regrets coming back to life. Tim is unsure what to do. Damian's eye is twitching from being around the Fanon imbeciles. Dick is this close to giving up on everything.]

Fanon!Jason: Oh no, baby bird! (Worriedly goes to Fanon!Tim and lifts his head)

[Fanon!Damian sits with hands folded and a scowl, in Fanon!Dick's lap, who hold him very dearly]

Jason: What the fuck?

Tim: What the fuck?

[Fanon!Jason lifts Fanon!Tim's head to reveal a... Less than pleasant face]

Fanon!Tim: (in a very scratchy, weak voice) Coff- coughs -fee! (and then THUMPS on the table head-first, again.)

[Fanon!Jason catches ahold of Fanon!Dick by the collar and gets into his face]

Fanon!Jason: You weren't a good brother to me and now you can't even take care of my Timmy?!

[He huffs and leaps for the kitchen to make coffee.]

[Dick facepalms, he cannot see this. Jason flinches in fear of Alfred's swear jar each time he hears Fanon!Jason swear from the kitchen. Tim buried his face into his hands and slumps against the table, he wishes to disappear and never face reality again. Damian is already reaching for his sword.]

Fanon!Damian: (scoffs) Let the imbecile die. A pathetic soul like his deserves a pathetic death like this.

Damian: (he stands on the table wielding the sword to Fanon!Damian's throat, eyes raging green) What the hell did you just say?!

Fanon!Dick and Canon!Dick: Shut up, Damian! (Who said that to which Damian, I'll let you decide)

[Dick and Tim pull Damian back from killing the Fanon!Damian, fearing that killing them would cause something to go wrong in the multiverse]

[Fanon!Jason returns from the kitchen with a tray in which he decorated a large mug of coffee, a flower vase and a bowl of hot soup.]

Dick: (In astonishment and disbelief) Jason?

[Fanon!Jason doesn't answer him. He goes and sits by Fanon!Tim and sets down the mug of coffee. Then, with cooing words, feeds Fanon!Tim the soup, gently.]

Jason: Where's my crowbar.

Dick: (Lets out he most tired sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, others are unsure whether he is frustrated over Jason's crowbar or the Fanons.)

Tim: (Turns to Damian with an earnest, pained expression) Damian, kill me before this is embedded into my memory forever.

Damian: (takes a breath and turns to Tim, his voice polite, soft and genuine. Vicarious pain and embarassment flashing in his eyes) I hate this too, Drake. Believe me, I really do. But since this hurts you more than it hurts me, (In the same soft, genuine, polite voice but evilly dramatic tone) suffer.

[Dick looks at Fanon!Dick, somehow glowing with childlike happiness.]

Dick: I wonder how he is so happy?

Alfred: Sirs? It is time for Dinner.

[The boys all get up and help in setting the table. Chaos ensues]

Jason: I'll get the plates. Tim? Get the caserols.

[A very 'undead' Tim walks in, dragging his feet and hunching over with slumped shoulders.]

Fanon!Tim: (Groans) Coffeee!

[Despite having met death, Jason backs away from Fanon!Tim for the fear of God knows what. He watches in a moment of sheer patience Jason didn't know he had as Fanon!Tim streches for the coffee jar on the top shelf, knocks it off as he collapses and proceeds to shove the raw coffee grounds into his mouth. Jason slowly backs away from him.]

Jason: (to Tim, visibly shaken up) I'm not going near that Tim, you shouldn't either.

Tim: (Putting down the caseroles a little lazily) Is that what my 'perception' is? A zombie looking Edward Cullen who survives on coffee and (shudders, refering to when Fanon!Jason fed Fanon!Tim soup.) That.

Jason: I'm going to get Zatanna to erase my memory of this event.

Tim: Yeah, call me too.

[Fanon!Damian sits atop of Fanon!Dick's shoulders, carrying a bunch of spoons while Fanon!Dick walks with glasses in his hands, laughing with Damian while he growls in return]

Dick: (thinks, Should I try to be as happy as him? Then looks down to see Damian watching in stoic horror as Fanon!Damian begins acting like a baby.)

Dick: (Opens his mouth to express his thoughts)

Damian: (Looks up at Dick and squints into a mini-bat-glare before Dick has the chance to say something) Grayson, I know what you are thinking. If you ever try to manhandle me like a baby, you will lose an organ.

Fanon!Tim: (Walks by shoving a handful of coffee grounds into his mouth) I hope it's a spleen. We'll have something in common to talk about then.

[Both Damian and Dick are thorougly spooked.]

Fanon!Jason: (Quivering out of anger at Fanon!Tim's broken, sad, lonely tone) Your fault, Dick!

[Dick gulps wondering if the Fanon!UniverseJason ever got out of the pit madness.]

Jason: (In a tone more broken, hopeless and sad tone than Fanon!Tim's) Why...

[Everyone sits for dinner. Alfred serves]

[Fanon!Dick suddenly gets up, walks up to Fanon!Damian and hugs him. Fanon!Damian responds with a bite. The he goes and hugs Fanon!Jason, he responds by shoving Fanon!Dick away, grumbling about how cruel he was to Tim. Finally, he goes to Fanon!Tim and gives him a hug. He is too busy chugging more coffee to respond.)

[Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are exasperated, to put it simply.]

[Dick slumps onto the table. Jason finally pulls out his crowbar. Tim crumbles upon himself. Damian closes his eyes in an attemp to not lose whatever is left of his sanity.]

Dick, Jason and Damin: (in unison) I wish I had stayed dead than waching this.

Tim: (feels more nightmares of Jason coming to his nights.)

Author's note: Okay, I admit, this may not be as funny as I meant it to be but... I can suck, you know? Besides, this may be terrible but in a universe with the CW's PowerPuff Girls script, it cannot objectively be the worst. And yes, I categorize this as a shitpost.

Sorry for creating this, but I had fun.

174 notes · View notes

wajjs · 4 years

Note

Hey Blob! So I noticed that the first prompt on the list you posted (you faked your death and ate all my cereal) was definitely channeling Dick Grayson. Maybe jaydick or gen with any preferred character please:)

“Who wouldn’t be angry you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!”

wound that makes you scream

Tomorrow’s the anniversary, that is all Dick can think of as he goes through the rest of the day - as he finishes his coffee, while he starts getting ready, when he’s running and leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Tomorrow’s the anniversary of both Batman and Bruce’s greatest mistake, the one that was the final thing to send him down spiraling, to have the man crash down. And down. And down. Not even rock bottom had been enough.

Because three years ago Bruce, not enough Batman, had been demanded to make a choice, put right in between the sword and the wall, and he had acted. He had acted, only for everything to crash in right over his head. The wound, the blood, the explosion. The laughter, the silence, the absence. The trail of crimson, the hint, the void. Nothing left behind.

Like the miracle that had turned into a nightmare to then promptly go up in smoke and mirages. Like he had never been there, he had never come back, like- like-

They have the proof, though. The empty, destroyed coffin. The DNA samples. They have everything to know, to be sure, that he was as real as he could be and now he’s all gone and it’s all…

It’s Bruce’s fault.

He sighs, stopping next to a ledge and looking out over the buildings around him. For once, the night holds no threat of rain and the wind carries no ungodly stench. Even the activity is surprisingly low, calm, something he’d comment on if he didn’t fear the real threat of jinxing it. He still allows himself one moment, just one moment, and sits right on the border of the ledge, lets his legs hang over it, feet facing the deadly drop.

Bruce has yet to recover. He’s yet to be anywhere near a semblance of what he once was. Not even Tim, god, poor young and hopeful Tim, not even his passion and stubbornness were enough to make the old man move on. Dick doubts anything will ever be enough. Dick doubts he himself will ever be able to make himself understand why Bruce did that, why did he-

His comm comes to life just then, making him sit up just a tad bit straighter, bracing himself for movement once more.

“You should head home,” Tim speaks clearly, no rush to his words, “everything’s quiet. A and I will keep an eye on B tonight.”

It’s what they always do when that date rears its ugly head upon them. He still nods, swallows past the sudden knot in his throat.

“Alright,” he says, stands up and stretches his arms over his head, “I’ll keep my comm on just in case. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” Tim promises even though they both know it’s unlikely any call will be made. With that, the communication ends.

No one is a fan of words in the eve of Jason Todd’s second death.

With his thoughts all scrambled, filled with memories, regrets and crushed dreams, Dick slides into his apartment from the window. There is no need to turn on the lights as he reactivates all the locks and security measures, and no need to stop himself from sagging under his own weight as he peels off his mask, starts working on the top of his costume. His instincts only come back online when he’s two steps into the living room, fluorescent glow coming from the kitchen’s open door.

Dick doesn’t stop to think. He picks up his escrima sticks, activates them, and with silent steps walks towards the entrance. He sure as hell hopes upon hope it’s one of his old Titans teammates, or a friend, because he does not want to fight right now, he is in no mood, his heart is gone, six feet under, right where the tomb of his lost- of, of Jaybird is.

And maybe it’s because he’s so deep in longing and grief that his eyes trick him in such a painful way. Because he slides into the kitchen to be face to face with a young man sitting on the counter, bowl of cereal in his hands, spoon halfway to his mouth. Because the young man has the same features of the one he’s missing, the same eyes, the same lips, the same eyebrows. Everything is a carbon copy of him and Dick discovers right then and there that he can’t handle any more heartbreak. He can’t take any more of it. He’s had enough.

“Who are you?,” he makes himself ask, feels his chest seizing, throat constricting, and it’s a herculean task to keep himself pulled together. “How did you get in here?”

The man blinks once, twice, begins to frown in confusion as he sets the bowl next to his thigh on the counter, licks away any remaining of milk and cereal from his lips. Dick braces himself for the sound of his voice, fearing that it will sound just like Jason’s, but it never comes. The voice never comes. Instead, the man lets out the smallest of sighs before lifting his hands, signing away with ease that betrays lots of practice.

You don’t recognize me?, the man asks with a barely there hint of a pout, Thought you’d be thrilled to see me.

“Answer me!,” he demands, giving another step forward and shifting into a fighting stance. This is too much. “Who are you!”

It’s me, dumbass, the other’s hands move fast, almost too fast for Dick to fully finish understanding the signs, I’m Jason.

“That’s-,” he has to swallow, clearing his throat because that, that is impossible, isn’t it? They all believed him dead. Again. Bruce himself showed them the video recording from the cowl. No one could survive that kind of cut to the throat. No one, no one, but… but… “No,” he breathes out, shaking, “no, you died.”

I didn’t, with a small smile, the man, no, Jason? God, Jason, stands up, looking at Dick in the eyes, I mean, I did, once, but I came back and you were there. Or you forgot?

He doesn’t- of course he didn’t! But if he’s here, then, then.

By the way, Jason, it’s really him, Dick feels a whole lot like screaming, even more like crying, you ran out of cereal. I invited myself to some but it was barely enough for a single bowl.

Dropping his escrima sticks to the ground, Dick allows himself the luxury of laughing. Laughing till there are tears in his eyes and the rattling in his chest has gone full bomb, about to explode and curse everyone in the immediate blast radius. His hands close into fists, his whole body is moving and next thing he knows he’s got Jason trapped against the counter, one hand closed tightly around the neck of his red sweater, the other raised, ready to strike.

Dude, Jason snorts, eyes impossibly clear, pinning Dick to his place, it’s just cereal. Don’t be mad.

“Don’t be mad?!,” he yells out, mildly succumbing to hysterics. “Why wouldn’t I be mad that you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years?! Three fucking years, Jason!! Do you know what it did to Bruce? What it did to me?!”

I’m sorry, in the small space between them, Jason barely has room to sign properly between their faces. His expression is sad and haunted, and filled with just too much regret. I needed time. To heal. And. To accept.

“Accept what!,” he knows he should probably pull away, bring his voice back to decent levels, but he can’t, not when everything feels too surreal, when air escapes him to never return. “Accept what!”

That B would hurt me like this, Jason says, thumb hovering over the thick, gnarly scar crossing his throat, That I cannot speak anymore. That I needed to learn. Learn how to communicate again.

It’s been three years. Three years since the return and the loss of the prodigal son.

Dick still needs to gather his thoughts, his heart, hell, maybe even his soul. But one thing is clear. On the third year, he’s the one guiding Jason back home. Hand in hand, step by step. And this time, he’ll make sure there won’t be any more harm to come.

#blob writes #jaydick #dickjay #mute!jason #epistemologicals #thank you for the prompt <3<3

77 notes · View notes

redhoodieone · 5 years

Text

It’s Cold in Here Part 7

A/N: And hereeeee is Part 7! Wow, and there is more to come because there are more scary and dangerous things ahead. So, enjoy this part, and wait for the next one.

Warnings: Language.

I woke up around six in the morning because I knew I couldn’t stick around to see and talk to Jason. I quietly got up from his cuddling embrace and got dressed and left without looking back at him. I even snuck around Alfred, who was in the kitchen making coffee, and I got into my car and drove off.

The second I get back to my home, I wash up, shower, and I find myself searching through the kitchen for something to eat. But after not going grocery shopping for a while, I end up eating the last slice of bread with the little spoonful of peanut butter at the bottom of the empty jar.

I then contemplate what to do today. I know I have work tomorrow, and today’s my last day off, and there’s got to be something I could do to stop me from obsessing about tonight’s encounter with the mysterious text messenger.

The fact that I must go alone makes me anxious, but I know I don’t have any other choice. My thoughts are interrupted from a knock on my front door.

Oh my God. Could it be Jason?

Fuck.

I shove the rest of my piece of bread into my mouth, and race to the door. I hesitate to open the door, but once I gain some sort of little confidence, I open the door.

It’s Dick.

My heart starts to pound in my chest. Why is he here? What’s going on?

Dick’s dressed casually; black pants with a white shirt and blue sweater on. His dark hair is gelled and messy like always, and his ocean blue eyes are focused on me.

I move aside and let him inside. The tension between us is awkward and I do feel like there’s a chill between us. It’s as if I just allowed a stranger into my home.

“Y/N, can we talk?” Dick finally asks. The way he says it sounds practiced, and a little heavy. “Please?”

I want to laugh, just to make him feel uncomfortable since he has no problem making me feel uneasy right now. “I guess we have to, right? Since our relationship is pretty much over except for who’s going to end it first,” I say.

“I...I don’t want us to be over. I still love you, and I want you to be with me,” Dick confesses, as he sits down beside me.

“W-what? Dick, you can’t be serious! You’re...into guys too, and you cheated on me. How could I be in a relationship with you after that?” I ask, suddenly feeling ambushed by him.

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I know what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have slept with him and lie to you, but I can’t just break up with you right now. Look, I had a moment of weakness. I fucked up. But it’s not going to happen again. I’m not gay or anything,” Dick continues, as he begins sounding more desperate and nervous.

“I know you’re not gay, Dick. You’re...bisexual. But that’s...that’s not what bothers me. I mean, it did in the beginning but it’s something I can’t change or ignore. What bothers me is that you cheated on me; it’s still cheating when it’s with a woman or a man,” I say, no longer frightened to keep silent. Dick needs to know the truth. “And the fact that you keep wanting us to be together just makes this relationship fake. Why would you want to put me through that?”

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT BRUCE TO FIND OUT!” Dick yells. He’s clearly afraid, and angry about the whole thing.

Dick begins to cry. He pulls his hair, and cries looking down at the carpet.

“All my life, I had to be perfect. I was supposed to be the best. My earliest days in the circus as the star acrobat along my family, when Bruce molded me into being the perfect sidekick Robin and to be a man a woman deserves. True, I haven’t exactly treated women right from time to time but being with you is something I feel like I was meant to have,” Dick says, wiping his tears away. “But as any perfect creation comes, it comes with flaws. My...sexuality is my fault.”

I feel guilty beyond words. “Dick, don’t say that...”

“It’s true! Imagine what the tabloids would say: ‘Bruce Wayne’s Son Dates Another Man! What Has Happened to Gotham’s Straight Ladies Man?!’ It could destroy our family. It could destroy me. I would be named the ‘queer’ of the family! Or those worse names homosexuals hear.”

“I-I understand your fear and all, but don’t you think you’re overreacting? The world is slowly changing now, because of the LGBTQ communities. Most advocates and activists are speaking out, and most of the time the publicity is positive. Maybe your real fear is coming from you. Maybe you have yet to accept yourself. Not everyone around you is going to think differently of you, especially the ones who love you,” I say, hoping to break through Dick’s strong, stubborn walls. “You can’t keep pretending to be someone you’re not. And you can’t have me pretend to be in love with you.”

Dick’s clear blue eyes look up to me in confusion. “You-you don’t love me anymore?” he asks softly.

“I love you Dick, but...I’m not in love with you anymore. Our relationship...is different now. I know you can’t choose which gender you want for fun or for a serious relationship, but I think you’re torn between what you want to discover and pursue now. This is clearly new to you, and while you figure it all out, maybe you need to be single to do that,” I admit.

Dick breathes heavily. He rubs his eyes, and after a while, he takes my hand and looks at me.

“You’re right, Y/N. You’re right about everything. I...I should have handled this better, but even though I still fucked up, I’m still in love with you and I still want to be with you. My feelings for you haven’t changed at all,” Dick confesses.

“What about Wally?” I finally ask.

“What about him? This isn’t about him. What happened between us doesn’t mean anything. He knows that, and I know that. This is about us. I want a future with you, a family. Did you honestly think I would have all that with him?”

The pain in my stomach hurts more than ever. I know Dick is wrong, and he’s being more ignorant than usual. But arguing right now isn’t going to help us. I suddenly feel tired and very exhausted from this talk. I lean back until I completely lie down on the couch, as my legs are on Dick.

“I’m sorry, I just...don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing. I’m tired, and I think I need to nap,” I say. I sound sleepy and he should know I’m not faking it.

“I’m tired, too,” Dick says, as he kicks off his shoes and lies down behind me.

I don’t want Dick holding me, but when his arms wrap around me and he pulls me closer to him in a hug, that it brings me back to a happy place like in the beginning. His smell, his touch, and his affection makes me fall all over again.

“You-you slept with Jason, right?”

His question startles me at first. “Yes.”

“Was he...better than me?” Dick asks quietly.

It would be easy to tell him the truth; that yes, sex with Jason made me feel more pleasure and love, but I can’t deal with the truth anymore right now.

“It was okay. It was just sex,” I finally say. “You’re better, because you know how to make me feel important.”

Dick’s breathing is calm again, and he holds me tighter. “Good, I-I didn’t want you to have a bad time but just knowing our sex life makes you feel important is more than enough for me.”

I close my eyes. I want to wake up and see that this was all a dream.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Dick?”

“I-I want to spend the night with you. Would that be okay?”

Dick’s practically begging me now. But since I can’t exactly be honest anymore since he refuses to be honest, I realize I have to go to Ace Chemicals alone tonight.

To face the unknown text messenger.

“I actually have to go to Zatanna’s tonight,” I lie, hoping he would buy it. But I mentally slap myself for not talking to Zatanna or Artemis today to make it more believable. With my luck, Artemis might still be hungover with Connor, while Zatanna did in fact sleep with Tim. “Artemis wants a girl’s night to dish on her hookup with Connor. I already accepted the invitation. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I should have known you would already have plans since you’re an amazing girl. I’ll probably hang out with Jay, Tim, and Dami anyways. I’ll just see you in the morning then.”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine,” I agree.

“Let’s just take a nap first. Let’s us forget everything,” Dick says sleepy.

It would be good to forget everything. It would be like all this never happened. No heartbreak. No cheating. No lies. No one-night stand Jason.

Jason?

My feelings for Jason resurface again, because no matter how many times I try to drown them, they just float back up to the surface because they’re un-drownable.

Before I know it, Dick’s already sound asleep.

I guess it’s easy for him to block everything out, while I’m here suffering in silence because my heart and head want to burst.

I know I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I don’t have time to sit and worry about Dick’s denial, or how I have secret feelings for Jason.

Because all I know is that I’m going to finally find out who has been harassing me about Dick, and once I find out who it is...I’m going to end them.

Take them down.

Kick their fucking ass.

And make them regret fucking with me by using threats and fear.

Because when anyone threatens to hurt and destroy those closest to me, they’re just asking for a ticket to die.

And I’ll gladly give them a ticket for death.

Comments, questions, and notes are greatly appreciated!

#dc comics #batfamily #batman #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n

123 notes · View notes

goldkirk · 4 years

Text

Latchkey, a Tim Drake fic

Chapter 3: shades of life are echoing through my open ears

[ ao3 link ]

He’s eating Froot Loops out of one of the biggest bowls in the kitchen. His head is currently propped up on his hand like it’s the only thing keeping him from face planting into the milk (it is), and The Partridge Family is playing on his iPad when suddenly there’s a knock echoing down the hallway to the kitchen.

Tim lifts his head just enough to turn and blink slowly in the direction of the front doors.

It’s. It’s a Sunday, his brain thinks, helpfully. No post on Sundays . (Thank you, Harry Potter? Tim is officially absolutely not awake enough for this. )

Then a knock comes again, followed by an insistent ring of the incredibly loud doorbell, god, why in the world do they have the slider turned up that high, there’s not even anyone here to hear it. Or anyone to ring it in the first place besides delivery drivers. And whoever is there right now, apparently.

Tim drops his spoon and sprints for the front entrance, fearing the worst. His head is spinning with all the scenes he’s ever seen or read, filled with military superiors and police officers and all kinds of bad news knocking on front doors unexpectedly, and he’s bracing himself for the blow. Tim skids across the landing and flings the door open with his pajamas and his bedhead and all 5 feet of him tense and ready, and there’s Jason Todd and Dick Grayson on his front porch, relaxed and cheerful like they own the world.

Tim stares. His mouth is still half-open in preparation to choke out Hello, officer, can I help you?

And maybe he’s a little crazy, or maybe his permanent sleep debt is just hitting him harder than usual, because his first instinct is to almost ask out loud “Why didn’t you just come in a window?”

Tim quickly snaps his mouth shut with a click.

“Hey Timmers.” Jason grins and shoves his red beanie up his forehead a little higher. “We were hoping you’d be home! Dick wanted a chance to see you before he goes back to Bludhaven tonight.”

“Hi, Tim! It’s awesome to finally meet you in the flesh. I’ve been hearing so much about you.”

And this is Dick Grayson , of the Flying Graysons, original Robin, Tim’s biggest childhood hero, good-hearted police officer, current Nightwing, and he’s just turned the full light of his thousand-lumen smile on Tim. Is this what standing in front of an angel feels like? Tim wonders distantly, and then he’s being crushed in an enormous hug.

He freezes. He seems to be doing that a lot this past week. Tim’s mind is racing, trying to think of the last time he’s been hugged. Maybe a couple trips ago? His Krav Maga tutor gave him one of those bro side-hugs after Tim landed a hard move the other week, that counts, right?

But this isn’t a bro hug, it’s not a hair ruffle like from Bruce, or a hand on the shoulder the way Jason has begun doing to Tim with an...alarming frequency, now that he thinks about it. (Tim puts a mental pin in that one to come back to later.) But this? This is a full on hug . This is Tim being suffocated by a koala twice his size. This is arms-all-the-way-around, pressed into someone’s chest, held tight like he’s a tree Dick’s clinging to to avoid falling off a cliff hug . Tim doesn’t do hugs like this. He’s—what is he supposed to…

Tim’s arms slowly come up after a few seconds, stuttering once to pause halfway there. Then he’s wrapping his hands around Dick’s back, too, and returning the hug, figuring it’s the nice thing to do when you’re being gifted with something this rare and big and vulnerable.

He feels Dick relax just a bit, melting to pull Tim in, a little impossibly, even further. It feels nice, Tim thinks. Dick’s a good hugger; he was back when Tim was a tiny kid at the circus, too. Tim remembers that. By all accounts, this moment should be incredibly weird, but somehow because it’s Dick it’s just...not.

(Tim, face strategically smashed into Dick’s pecs, misses the triumphant grin and responding thumbs up between Jason and Dick.)

“Uh,” Tim says, a little dazed. Dick had finally let go and given Tim room to step back, although not before a parting hair duffle. Tim wonders, between Bruce and Dick, who picked it up from who. “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure,” Dick says happily, and steps lightly past Tim on his way into the foyer. Jason follows close behind.

Tim steps inside, pulling the door shut behind him til the creaky lock latches shut—he’s going to have to replace that soon, before his parents get back, it’s swollen and shrunk in weather changes too many times to be silent ever again, and his dad hates that in a door.

“Brush your hair and get dressed,” Jason says, all business. “And grab a warm coat. Make it snappy.”

“What,” says Tim. Because, what?

“Clothes, hair, coat, let’s go ,” Jason claps at him for emphasis, then makes a shooing motion.

“I’m. But. Jason, I just woke up ,” Tim grumbles, rubbing one eye. “I haven’t finished breakfast.”

Dick has drifted into the kitchen already, apparently, because he chooses this moment to chip in, “Froot Loops!!! My kind of man. Tim, good taste.”

“Thanks,” Tim replies. This morning is already so weird he’s going to not even question it. “You can have some if you want?” he offers. There’s a delighted noise from the direction of the kitchen, and the sound of cabinets being opened as Dick apparently goes hunting for a bowl. Tim sighs.

“Furthest tall cabinet on the left, second shelf up,” he calls, and then turns back to Jason. “Why do I have to get dressed, exactly?”

“You’re coming over.”

“Am I,” says Tim.

“Yes,” Jason says firmly. “It’s Sunday and we’re gonna watch kid’s cartoons and hang out and you’re going to meet Dick and eat Alfred’s amazing brunch if I have to drag you there like a sack of potatoes.”

And that’s just. “Why,” Tim questions, feeling a little desperate and a lot confused.

Jason grabs him by both shoulders and stares Tim right in the eye. “Because you’re my friend, and it is killing me inside to think about you in this empty fucking house all the time, and I need someone to be another target for Dick’s unending attention, and also you’re too skinny and Alfred thinks you need both company and fattening up. And no one argues with Alfred.” Jason says this as if that’s just that , and somehow, inexplicably, it is. Tim’s feet are already finding themselves on the stairs, and Jason’s watching with satisfaction from the rug.

Tim gets dressed.

Dick and Jason shove Tim through the doorway to the kitchen and promptly flee the scene, shouting something about getting the lounge ready and being back for brunch. For being Bats, they’re kind of terrible at low-key scheming in normal life. But Tim’s head is still spinning from how weird this morning has been so far. He’s bound to find out soon anyway. And if they’re going to leave him alone for a bit in a warm napping location, then they’re not allowed to be mad at Tim for taking advantage of it.

Well. Nearly alone, anyway.

Bruce takes one look at Tim from across the surprisingly small table and slides his own mug of coffee across without a word.

Tim stares at it for a moment. He may not be a Bat, but he sure keeps the same hours as one, and between nights, running BatWatch, and regular old school, the words sleep and Tim haven’t been allies for a long, long time. He’s tired. He’s confused. He’s craving a familiar comfort that comes from holding a warm drink close, even if he still can’t manage to like the actual taste of coffee. No matter what’s going on, Tim realized early on in life that holding a hot tea, cocoa, or coffee seems to make any situation feel more familiar and safe.

The mug is tempting him. He can smell the rich undertones already, so Bruce must spring for the good quality stuff (no real surprise there). Except...he’s just Tim. He’s the neighbor kid, who knows more than he should, and isn’t even sure why he’s here at this point. Especially since none of them know Tim knows anything. And they’re somehow still having him around anyway. He’s not sure he should accept anything from the Wayne household at this point, until he has a better idea of where he stands.

But Batman just offered him his own coffee. In his own house. And Tim really is tired. Bruce is already up and making himself another mug, not expecting the first one to slide back across the table any time soon. Tim’s shoulders drop, just a little.

He takes the mug.

The first sip is just as jarring as every other coffee drink he’s ever tried. But he persists. And to Tim’s delight, the taste quickly turns from just plain bitter to bitter that’s worth it for the rich undertones. Like the difference between flavorless mild salsa you can’t stand, and really flavorful hot salsa that you would have expected to be too strong, but is actually fantastic because of the taste.

“What is this,” Tim blurts out. Bruce glances up from whatever report he’s reading on the iPad screen.

“Hm?”

“The coffee ,” Tim says patiently. He’s clutching the mug now, holding it close to his face in between gulps. “What kind of coffee is this?”

“Oh, that,” says Bruce. “It’s just something I stock up on when I’m over in Kansas. There’s a little coffee shop outside Lawrence that has some great imports with a lot of flavor. This is their house blend.”

Little coffee shop, sure. He knows Bruce is being purposely vague so as not to mention Smallville or anything that can tie him to it, but Tim is certain that’s what Bruce is alluding to.

“Hmm. It’s great,” he tells Bruce. “Thank you.”

“You looked like you needed it.” The corners of Bruce’s mouth turn up just so.

Tim finds himself smiling back.

When Tim makes it back to his house that evening, he’s somehow carrying a backpack that he didn’t own ten hours earlier, and it’s filled with hand warmers, socks, three containers of Alfred’s cooking, which is just. The Best , it really is, and also there’s a panic button bracelet, which is hilarious to Tim. He’s been running around for years on his own. And now all of a sudden, Jason Todd decided to singlehandedly become Tim’s parent in the span of a week. He even tried to talk with Tim about getting more sleep, and wasn’t that rich coming from a secret teenage vigilante. Tim had refused to explain the laughter that tore out of him over that one.

And at the very bottom of the bag, nestled in what turns out to be a fleece blanket with a sweeping landscape photo printed on it, is one bag of coffee grounds, and a post-it note that says only, “Use it wisely.”

Tim wonders how much Batman knows already. He wonders at how he can’t muster up the usual stress to care as much as he did a few days ago.

After a moment, he wraps himself up in the blanket like it’s a cape, and heads upstairs to start putting on his disguise for the night. It’s not the best quality fleece he owns, but somehow? Somehow it feels warmer than anything his parents have ordered over the years. Tim is firmly attributing it to said blanket having been tucked in near the still-warm food containers. But he still smiles when he catches his reflection in a hallway mirror.

A few hours later, Tim swipes the lip balm over his lips for the third time that night, mentally cursing winter as a conceptual whole. He’s been careful to always carry at least one tin of lip balm with him every night he went out, ever since the disastrous first time he went out on a cold night and learned that you could get windburn on your lips and it wasn’t fun . Tim was in pain for a day and a half every time he spoke or ate. He hasn’t made that mistake again.

He wonders if Batman and the others do the same, or if they’ve figured out some kind of high tech way to keep their skin and lips from getting dried out and chapped all winter. And the masks! How do the Robins not constantly have domino-shaped patches of acne, especially in the summer?

Not for the first time in recent days, Tim desperately wishes he had enough guts to just come clean and fess up to the Waynes that he knew. At least then he could ask the million and one questions like this that he’d thought of over the years. Or, he could so long as they didn’t decide to throw him in Blackgate or some kind of Bat-cell where he couldn’t spill their secrets, anyway.

Batman didn’t seem like the type to do that to someone without serious cause, but, well. He was more protective of his partners’ ( family’s ) safety than of anything else in the world. That much was evident to anyone with eyes and two brain cells left to rub together. Batman would do just about anything his partners. Tim’s pretty sure Batman would rip the universe apart if that’s what it took to save one of his kids that was being threatened. Even the Justice League members probably only would warrant the tri-state area, or maybe a small country.

And a lot of adults didn’t seem like the type to do something until suddenly they did. Tim has learned that one the hard way too a few times.

So definitely no telling.

Tim sighs, and scrambles his way back down the drain pipe he’d shimmied up earlier. This night has been a bust, mostly. Gotham is as quiet as it ever gets. The few incidents Batman and Robin had dealt with, Tim was mostly at poor angles to try to catch. At least he’d gotten a nice shot of Nightwing backflipping off a low gargoyle to kick one of Falcone’s guys off of a moving pickup truck. That one was sweet .

A few minutes and run-down streets later, Tim finally ducks out of the shadows near an alley and sprints across the empty street to the bridge. With practiced grace, he follows a familiar path up the metal bars of the bridge beams until he reaches his preferred viewing spot, nestled in an eyebar junction.

He weaves a loop of bungee cord around a couple of the rods, and then clips the MacGyvered end with the carabiner to the climbing harness under his long coat. Tim may be many things, risk-taking, precocious, a wild child, call him what you will. But unprepared is not one of them. He takes risks, sure, but he’s not going to up his chances of injury or death while running around Gotham just out of laziness.

Anyway, if Tim’s memory is correct (and it usually is), on nights when Nightwing is in town, the Bats tend to loop through this part of the Narrows towards the end of their night out. From Tim’s vantage point, he’s got a mostly-unobstructed view of several street entrances, plus the main road that travels parallel to the waterfront. Whichever way they come from, Tim’s likely going to spot them from here.

After fifteen minutes or so, Tim hears the tell-tale rumbling of an engine. It could just be a random citizen, or a criminal up to no good, but they’re past the hours when most of the nighttime crime happens. This is the few-hour stretch before dawn where even criminals have mostly packed it in. Everybody’s got to sleep sometime.

So Tim waits patiently, camera held near his heart. The rumbling is getting louder, and that’s definitely the Batmobile. Tim should know. But there’s also something else, something higher pitched—if Tim could just hear it a little more clearly, he might be able to make out—

The Batmobile swings around a corner, chassis shifting heavily to one side, and Robin is whizzing along behind it, screaming with...glee, apparently. What the hell , Tim thinks, and he’s already snapping photos, camera viewfinder millimeters away from his eye.

Snap . Robin’s face, mask crinkled and hair flying in the wind. Snap . The Batmobile gleaming in the streetlights and reflection off the water’s surface, tinted a faint purple-blue on the black chrome. Snap. A tight zoom on Robin in his painfully 90s-colored roller skates (maybe an old pair of Dick’s, Tim thinks, if this was premeditated and not spurred by boredom and the sight of a giveaway pile on the sidewalk), head tossed back in laughter, partially reflected in a puddle just inches away from his feet.

Thank god for high speed shutters in modern cameras. Tim has so much fun with them.

Snap . Oh no. Oh shit—the Batmobile takes another streetcorner a little too sharply, snap , Robin is yanked and loses his grip on the rope trailing from the bumper, and snap —there goes Robin, flying on smooth ball bearings, straight into a heaping pile of trash bags. Tim winces. He quickly unhooks himself, slides down the bridge like Tarzan in the jungle. He ducks behind crates to creep closer.

The Batmobile has slammed to a stop, and Nightwing’s head pops up over the top of the car, peering in the direction of the garbage. Two gauntleted hands suddenly shoot up from the pile, enthusiastic thumbs-ups, which Tim definitely gets a still and video of. This is going to be the Gotham gif of the month, Tim thinks with glee. Nightwing starts laughing, then, and scrambles over the roof of the Batmobile to go help Robin up. Tim gets a couple pictures of them embracing, and Nightwing brushing stray trash off of an animated Robin as he gestures wildly and wobbles a bit on the skates, and then a slight movement captures Tim’s eye.

He swings the camera over in time to get Batman in the frame, having just dropped down from wherever he came from this time. The boys are just turning, twin smiles still firmly on their faces. Even from where Tim is hidden, Batman’s shoulders seem to slump, and he crosses his arms, body language screaming I’m surrounded by children . Which, he technically is? But whose fault is that .

Tim packs away his camera as Batman clearly begins scolding his wayward proteges, too far away for Tim to hear. This was already the latter part of their night shift, and there’s no way Batman is patrolling any longer after his kids demonstrated that they’ve mentally clocked out for the night. If the vigilantes are packing it in, it’s definitely time for Tim to head home too.

The next morning, Tim finds comments on his latest post and pictures flooding his inbox. People love seeing the family dynamic between Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, apparently, who could have guessed. “Agent A” even comments on this one, which is a rare delight. Tim can count on one hand the number of times that Agent A, Oracle, or the Bats themselves have interacted with his work in any way, and it’s still a thrill. His comment is a simple “Thank you.” (Tim wouldn’t be surprised if one of his photos ends up taped in the Batcave somewhere by Alfred as a part of their weird family memory wall that he likes to imagine exists down there.)

Tim’s never felt prouder.

His good mood lasts through two mugs of Bruce’s coffee, a slew of comment moderation during lunch while struggling to keep Jason’s prying hands off of Tim’s laptop, and a short walk to the park to take some practice candids of people walking their dogs.

Then his phone rings, something it never does , and Tim’s heart sinks. It’s his dad’s number, of course.

He can’t help but wonder what bad news they’re going to have for him this time about their trip schedule, and hits answer call already resigned to whatever the situation is. At least in a few hours he’ll be back out on the streets, focusing on other kids’ problems like he does every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before the Bats start their patrol. If he’s got to be lonely and left behind with a high-limit credit card to cover expenses that never gets checked on —and believe him, Tim knows, he spent six very strange months racking up increasingly ridiculous charges on that thing and not a peep came from his parental units over in Guatemala—then his parents don’t get to be mad if he budgets in extra food and clothing money for Gotham’s street kids. The rich are supposed to be philanthropic, right? Kind to the less fortunate and all that. Follow the great Bruce Wayne’s lead.

After all, thinks Tim, he’s been watching from afar, learning from the best.

#tim drake #batfam #dc #shutterbug series

14 notes · View notes

funeral-clown · 4 years

Text

for @demibuckybarnes what is a birthday? a miserable pile of presents given two days too late

heart emojis

The strange thing about Gotham was how it affected your sleep pattern.

You could simultaneously sleep through a bomb going off a few blocks away, and wake up at the slightest rustle outside your window.

The quiet and reserved citizens slept at night, the rowdy and bloodthirsty slept during the day, and the wise rarely slept at all. With all the smog, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference anyway.

Champ slept a devil’s slumber, deep and dreaming, unbothered by guilt or fear, every time they remembered to sleep. Their bunker had no windows. They were not asleep right now. They were creeping through the dark parts of the city, dodging the troublesome elements of the streets easily enough and slipping past the criminal element. It was the daytime, all the criminals awake were either rich or desperately poor. Neither were something they could put a stop to.

They sidled closer to their goal, scarf wrapped warm and thick around their face, warm knit cap pulled down over ears and nearly over eyes. Their fingers were bared by the ratty gloves. The door’s bell merrily announced their presence to those inside. They ambled to the door with grim purpose, a look of fierce determination in their eyes.

“Hello,” they said cheerily, “I’ve come to pick up an order?”

The bored man behind the counter nodded.

“Name?”

“Pennyworth.”

He grunted, then disappeared for a moment. When he returned he had a white box. Placing it on the glass counter, he flipped the lid up for a moment before quickly, delicately placing it back down.

“Wasn’t easy, gettin’ it done like that.”

They hummed, an acknowledgement.

“You were paid well enough, weren’t you?”

He grunted, his own acknowledgement.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your tip.”

The man’s dreary countenance brightened somewhat.

“Be careful lugging that thing around. Don’t want anything.......destroyed.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” they delicately took the package into their own hands, nodded at the man, “These are some of the most careful hands in Gotham.”

The man merely grunted again, and tactfully made no response to that. Truthfully, he had none. With the gait of an altar boy, holding something holy and delicate, they made their way out of the shop. The man watched idly as they began their journey, before grunting again to himself and flipping his magazine back open, once again settled into his boredom.

Meanwhile, Champ made their way down the street, hands cautiously continually readjusting themselves. Too tight, and it could cause a problem. Too loose, and they could drop it, and cause a REAL problem. Too shaky? Another potential problem. They had a ways to take this haul, and mostly on foot. Champ couldn’t deny the weight of the responsibility on them, but running errands for either of their fathers came with risk.

They nudged their ear with their shoulder, muttering into the comm unit.

“Jason. Package obtained. Delivery in progress.”

There was a muffled crackle in their ear before a reply.

“Acknowledged. Eyes are on the target. They don’t suspect a damn thing.”

“Easy, J-man. Let’s not get too cocky.”

“This from you?”

Champ let out a short harsh laugh, still cautiously maneuvering down the street.

“This isn’t our usual gig, Todd.”

“No,” came a terse reply. “This isn’t.”

“Wow,” came an unexpected third voice, “You guys sound so intense. What is this, a Bruce Impression Contest?”

Champ groaned.

“Tim, how can you even say that? On this, of all days.”

A cackle came through the line.

“Figured you could use the levity. I’m on the roof, by the way. To your left. See me waving at you? I’m here to take care of any distractions.”

Champ carefully eased one hand from the box to flip off the roof.

“Other left.”

Champ sighed.

“This is why I work alone, Tim. You’re the distraction.”

“Oh so this IS a Bruce Impression Contest?”

“How’d I do?”

“Needs a bit more bass.”

“My voice can only go so low, would more gravel suffice?”

“Guys,” Jason interjected, “Focus. Besides. My Bruce Impression is way better.”

Twin scoffs came through his ear piece.

Allison was having a very strange day.

That in itself was not so unusual, life in Gotham was strange even if you didn’t have vigilantes crawling through your windows at all hours of day and night.

And they rarely remembered to wipe their feet.

It was the vigilantes themselves that were making today unusual. Notably, the absence of them. Most days, she couldn’t wake up without someone crashing their way through the kitchen, or snoring on the couch, or -god forbid- bleeding in the bathroom, trying to stitch themselves up with dental floss.

(Why dental floss, when she had asked Champ, had been answered with to keep their flesh wounds minty fresh. She had thrown a bar of soap at them and called Alfred to take them home.)

Today, when she woke up, it was to a clean and empty apartment. It was unsettling.

More unsettling when she came into the kitchen and found it, not only un-ransacked, but cleaner than when she had fallen asleep. There was a plate on the table, held under a cloche. Curious, she lifted it to find an assortment of breakfast, as well as a small note.

‘The first of many gifts. A.’

There was a small flower laid in between the cutlery and the orange juice. She lifted it up, touching the soft petals.

“Huh,” she muttered.

A knock came at the door, suspiciously soon after she had finished her breakfast and put the dishes in the sink.

It wasn’t a surprise when she opened it to find Dick waiting. It was a surprise that someone had actually knocked.

“Is this a parallel universe?”

Dick frowned, head cocked to the side.

“Don’t think so. Why, has anyone tried to homoerotically recruit you? That’s usually my tell.”

“That happens to you in this universe.”

“Beauty is a curse.”

“What’s going on, loser?”

He grinned.

“Can’t tell, or secret snipers will kill me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, really!” He walked the the small window in the kitchenette and waved cheerfully at the top of the adjacent building. A small red dot appeared on his shoulder. Allison opened her mouth to ask more, then firmly closed it lest she say something inciting.

Are we okay, she mouthed.

Dick winked.

Jason. Laser pointer.

Allison groaned, then shoved his shoulder while he laughed.

“I was really worried!”

“So am I! He still might really shoot me, it’s Jason.”

The laser made it’s way from his shoulder to his head, blinking playfully. She rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

His grin went loose and lopsided, entire body relaxing into it. He gave a short, theatrical bow.

“I’m here to escort you through the day.”

“You’re gonna walk me to work?”

His face filled with sorrow.

“I regret to inform you that you are very sick.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re extremely, contagiously ill and you therefore cannot make it into work today.”

“Dick-”

“In fact, we’ve already called ahead and told them. You forwarded them your doctor’s note even.”

“Jesus.”

“No, it was Barbara.”

“Dammit, Dick, what’s going on?”

He practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his toes like a child.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises!”

“I know,” he lilted, before grabbing her hand and coaxing her to the door, “So we’d better hurry up and get through it all so we can get the surprise part over with!”

Groaning, she relented.

When they finally made it to the house, Alfred ushered them in through the back door.

“Dick’s dragging her all over town doing touristy shit,” they reported dutifully, “and I got the package here unharmed.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That,” he chided, though not unkindly, “Remains to be seen.”

Flushing under their scarf, they placed the box on the table. Gently, the butler lifted the lid. Champ and Tim’s breath was caught in their throats. Alfred looked nonplussed in that exact shade of unbothered that meant he was two seconds away from a heart attack. With the easy precision of a man well acquainted with weapons, he eased it up and deftly set it away to inspect it’s contents. Champ’s heart hammered in their throat. He sighed, and they felt their body freeze.

“I’m s-”

“It’s perfect.”

They paused.

“What?”

“Perfectly well done, dear. Not even any smudges along the edges.”

They let out a proud cry of delight, jumping up and down happily before grabbing Tim in a hug and dancing him around the kitchen. Alfred watched patiently at the two laughed and spun. Bruce ambled in nonchalantly, eating an apple and nursing a black eye.

“Take it the cake got here alright?”

Alfred nodded.

“Hmm.”

He sunk back into the shadows.

They spent the rest of the day preparing the mansion, hanging decorations and hiding presents and bothering Alfred while he cooked until he chased them off with a wooden spoon so they would go and clamber on Bruce instead. Midway through the afternoon Jason showed up, informing them all that they had another hour.

By the time Dick sauntered up the steps with Allison in tow, the entire house was dark and still. This is and of itself was unnerving, as lately the place was usually crawling with extremely loud and energetic people.

“Is anyone home?”

Dick shrugged, grinning.

She creaked open the back entrance. The house had several entrances, the back one being the entrance into the kitchen, originally designated for servants and food delivery in such a way as to be discreet. Now it was merely the family entrance. And also where the food delivery happened. The more things change the more they stay the same.

It was dark, and quiet, and Alli got a sudden impression that it was filled with unseen life. Before she had time to be scared, the lights turned on and loud noisemakers came from everywhere. Champ grabbed her around the waist and twirled her around in a happy hug.

“Dude, did you think we’d forget your birthday?”

Alli laughed.

The whole family was there. Clark smiled politely from the table. Bane was tucked into a corner, glowering calmly with a small but very brightly colored party hat that suggested he was here at Champ’s insistence and determined to enjoy himself. Talia leaned against him. Bruce sighed as the robins all flitted around the room with noisemakers being as loud as possible. Jason grabbed Allison from Champ and gave her his own spin. Dick silently slipped his own party hat on from his pocket, standing next to Alfred with his hat. The house was instantly transformed into a bright and colorful whirlwind of warmth and laughter and food. Allison laughed, steadying herself against her friend.

“Thank you all, for this. Thank you.”

A round of raucous cheers and kazoo noises greeted her.

“But there’s something I have to say, and please know that nothing will change what you’ve all done for me.”

An anticipatory hush fell over the crowd.

“I love you all so much, and this means more than I could possibly say.”

Jason hid his grin behind his hand.

“But my birthday was two days ago.”

A stunned silence rushed the room. It was broken by Jason’s loud laughter.

“They were so sure,” he wheezed out, “They were so proud of themselves I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them.”

Champ punched his sternum.

“DAMMIT.”

Allison laughed.

#happy uhhhh belated birthday babe

5 notes · View notes

harveywritings92 · 5 years

Text

Cheater! Tim Drake x Reader Part 1

The following is a non profit fan based story Batman, Red hood, Nightwing etc. belongs to DC Comics please support the official release.

I gain no profit from this nor do I own anything other then OCs and whatever sprouts from my imagination. Thanks for reading!

Y/n practically flew up the steps of Wayne manor she was so excited! She had to tell Tim, she got the voice acting gig she'd trying for Outta Wack productions! she was a voice actress and apart of the Trophy Scavenger team effective next week! She knocked and ringed the doorbell.

Dick eating a bowl of cereal answered "ey y/nf!" he greeted as he swallowed a spoon full of Trix he moved aside to let her in Jason who was reading Terry Pratchett's Mort nodded and grunted at her as the h/c merrily walked inside "Is Tim in his room? I got big news!" She chirped and went upstairs practically skipping.

Dick chuckled at her enthusiasm then back to watching cartoons. When it slowly dawned on the brothers; they were pretty sure they both heard Y/n getting 'busy' with Tim in his room, they blanched as Dick was the first to speak "w-wait if Y/n just got here...." Jason whipped his head towards the stairs. "The who the hell is up there with Tim?!" Dick dropped his bowl while Jason bolted over couch and they ran upstairs to catch up with Y/n.

only hear a horrified "WHAT THE FUCK!" the two almost trip when they stopped in front of Tim's room to see a shocked and crying Y/n who was staring at Steph and Tim who were both naked and staring at the three stunned. no one moved nor said anything when a hollow bitter laugh came from the h/c a few seconds of her laughter she spoke up.

"Jaime was fucking right..." she snorted as tears blurred her vision. "You fucking bastard! You knew I was cheated on in my last relationship! How could you!?"she demanded as taking a step towards them Dick held her back as the 'couple' flinched, the h/c was hands were shaking she so fucking distraught she "He and Bart told me you had a thing for Steph...Did I fucking listen--"

Y/n shook her head "No, Y'know what?...Fuck this! Fuck you both! you deserve each other!" She then turned to Tim took out the cellphone he had gotten her and threw it at him, the phone hit the raven haired boy in the head causing it to turn on and a picture of himself and Y/n came up on the lock-screen he looked down at it dazed.

"Never come near me again...I hate you Timothy Drake." she spat venom dripping off of every word Tim look sick as he watched her shove passed Dick and Jason who were still staring stunned that Tim would betray Y/n like this.

"I'm gonna go make sure Y/n's alright, help her get home..." Jason muttered and followed after the heartbroken girl, While Dick just shook his head in disbelief at his younger brother disappointment and shame clear in his eyes "Way go Tim, you got the girl you always wanted..." said boy had yet to move from his spot eyes still glued to the phone screen.

Y/n... the way she looked at him with devastation and malice, her words kept echoing in his head "...I hate you Timothy Drake" Every word felt like a dagger was twisting into his heart...Why? He wasn't in love with Y/n...he just using her,right? that was the plan...act as a rebound. Make Steph jealous then break-up with Y/n before it got too serious (he skipped that step.) and start dating Steph...after all that, He couldn't have fallen for Y/n, right?

The answer was pretty clear as his blue eyes stayed on the screen, focus on Y/n's happy face, it was mocking him. Tim felt dirty as every memory and moments they had shared together started replaying in his head. Tim hadn't realized he was crying until a few tears landed on the cellphone. He hadn't even noticed Steph curse him out and leave.

Needless to say, the last couple weeks wasn't much of a shock to anyone. Steph wanted nothing to do with Tim, she punched him in the face when he tried talking to her, "You two timing sleaze! I had to find out from Barb, you and Y/n were dating for almost a year and six months! You lying son of a bitch!" she hit him again then called him every name in the book;

Tim just stood there and took it knowing he deserved every bit of it "Well I hope it was fucking worth it, because we're through!" She yelled before storming off. And as for Y/n nobody seen or heard from her since the incident, and no one would tell him where she was, He asked Jason who was the last person to see her and he told Tim to shove it.

He ended up going to Y/n's apartment and a shady looking guy answer the door. Tim's jaw clenched he was pissed thinking Y/n had gotten together with this guy! he pushed himself passed the guy and looked around the apartment. His anger soon turned to fear and confusion to see all her stuff was gone and unpacked boxes littered the living room.

"Hey, you can't ju-" The guy reached for Tim's shoulder only for the teen to grab his hand and bend it behind the man's back."Who the hell are you, what are you doing here?" the teen hissed the man winced feeling Tim's hold tighten he stuttered out his name and how he just bought the place from some depressed chick who's boyfriend cheated on her.

"How..do you know about that?"

"S'what the neighbors told me, I take it the boyfriend is you?"

"Where's the girl now?"

"I don't know! some animation company hired her out of state...She's gone."

Tim's eyes widened he dropped the guy and just stared at his feet, the teen was silent for a few seconds then apologized walked out of the apartment and just as he was about leave he heard the guy speak up.

"Y'know love is pretty confusing kid, Some are together for life... others aren't so great at it...But that doesn't stop them from trying, I hope it works out for the both of ya's..." Tim frowned taking what the guy said to heart and walked down the stairs and out into the street he stared blankly at the sky for a minute.

Figures it would be a beautiful sunny day while he's miserable, he then locked on to to some trash cans that were left out, a sudden rush of anger overcame the teen his foot came up kicking one of them sending it crashing into a wall denting it.

Tim let out a shaky breath then continued back to his car, thinking about how he had picture perfect life and a girl who loved him. and not for money, fame or any other form of greed. But loved him for being his own horrid self...And he threw that all away, because he couldn't let go of a stupid crush!

Tim looked at Y/n's phone which was resting on his dash, He stared at it forlornly she must've known he put a tracker in it...Clever girl, Too bad he was to hung up on getting Steph to like him to notice at the time... It was a long drive back to the manor, Tim stayed hulled up in his room burying himself in work only coming out for patrol or if Alfred forced him out to eat, he made the wrong call and he's paying for it.

2 years later...

"Tim my boy, someone your age should have a nice girl by his side..." And old man boasted to the young CEO, Tim mentally rolled his eyes annoyed and exhausted, listening to Mr. Georgeman boast about his grand-niece, every fricken time he went to gala, there was always some old money or debutante type who would try to set him up with their pretty young niece,cousin,daughter or granddaughter...

And every time he'd turn them down...he learned a long time ago saying that he'd "think about it." gave the parents and the girl false hope and the wrong impression; dates would be set up without his knowing, or he'd show up to a "lunch meeting" and see a living barbie doll dressed to the nines waiting for him.

which would end in tears and embarrassment for them both when he turned them down, or the girls would show up at his job or apartment whining and wondering why he stood them up.

Now whenever ever a meeting was set up he'd double check to see who set it up and message them to cancel, it saves him the embarrassment and spares the girls their feelings. Tim was pulled out of his reverie by the old man patting his shoulder.

"Well Mr.Drake would you be interested in my Luba?" the raven haired boy's eye twitched just a bit..."Erm... I'm sorry sir, I'm not looking for a relationship at the moment." Mr. Georgeman bristled at Tim's rejection and stomp away into the crowed which Tim surveyed he sighed checking his watch wondering if he's at that point where he's stayed long enough? and it was nearly quarter-past nine...

Tim hummed and slipped away from the ball room and out into the hotel lobby, when he saw a group of girls gasp when they saw him, They advanced towards him, Till one of them noticed something over his shoulder and shrieked excitedly, Tim sighed annoyed waited for the person to rush up to him and ask for a selfie or whatever only for the person to yell.

"Oh my god it's Y/n L/n!" Tim blinked Y/n...his Y/n? he whirled around as the girls forgot about him, and made a beeline for the h/c who wasn't alone he saw Jaime and Bart with her, but that's not what he was focus on...

His eyes instead were focused on the little raven haired girl who was freaking out and crying at all camera flashes going off. Causing Jaime to step in front of Y/n and the kid protectively, Bart took the baby from the h/c and got into the elevator while Jaime tried to get everyone to back up. "ey,ey everybody just needs ti calm down here" the Latino urged waving his hands.

"Y/n!? was that Erin, she's gotten so big!"

"Whens your next album coming out?"

"Are you dating Bart or Jaime?"

"Did Erin get the dragon hoodie I sent?"

"Will you marry me?"

Y/n was overwhelmed by the sudden ambush she barely had any breathing room to think! then she saw him... Tim standing a few feet from her. the h/c felt goosebumps form on her arms, as she watched his eyes narrow and he advanced towards her, she tugged on Jaime's shirt.

"I see him too.." he said eyes glancing over his shoulder. Y/n took a deep breath and faced the crowed. "To answer your questions, Yes, June, neither, yes, NO!...anymore questons will be answered at the convention, goodnight!" Y/n and Jamie got into an elevator before Tim could reach them or anyone could stop them.

"That was too close!" Y/n sighed sliding down the wall Jaime sat down next to her. "You can't keep avoiding him, hermana." he said causing the girl to snort. "Yes I can! I've been doing it for two years." she huffed crossing her arms, the Latino frowned damn this girl is stubborn!

"And what about Erin? what are you gonna do when she starts asking about her dad?" The h/c frowned she hadn't thought that far ahead, according to Bart; Her and Tim were apparently still together in the future, she scoffed when she heard that! As if she would take that cheater back! maybe in upside-down world! But in real life that bridge wasn't just burned, it was nuked beyond repair!

"Well what are you going to tell her?" Jaime asked again Y/n hummed "I don't know..." she mumbled Jamie patted her knee and they got up when the elevator pinged telling them they were at their floor, when they got to their room they found Bart waiting sitting on a chair watching TV while bouncing Erin on his knee, He looked nervous as he saw them come in "Tim called...He wants to meet with you." Y/n took Erin from him and balanced the toddler on her hip.

"Well, that's too bad c'os I don't want to meet him." Bart winced as she said this "it's kind of important that you meet him Y/n..." Speedster urged but, h/c wasn't having it, every time he even mentioned Tim she would stare or shoot him down, eventually the brown haired man begrudgingly dropped it. Both he and Jaime knew that Tim wasn't going let it go...he will find a way to get Y/n alone, especially since now Tim saw Erin...he was going want answers.

#Tim Drake x reader #red robin #Nightwing #red hood #jason todd #Richard Grayson #Batman #dc comics #stephanie brown #Spoiler #impulse #jamie reyes #bart allen

164 notes · View notes

maychorian · 5 years

Note

For the prompts, #6 with Tim Drake and Jason Todd

This is set in a possible future of Year of Fallen Angels.

6. “Where are you? Tell me where you are.”

Jason was stacking boxes in the storeroom of the diner where he worked when the phone in his pocket jingled with a certain ringtone. It was the theme song for one of Tim’s favorite TV shows, and it only came from one number.

He dropped the boxes he was holding on the floor and took the phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear. “Timmy?”

The line was quiet. Jason strained to hear, pressing the phone closer to his face. Then he realized that it wasn’t silent, after all. Tim was panting, harsh and terrified.

“Tim? Baby bird? Talk to me.”

Jason was already striding toward the door of the storeroom and into the kitchen. His manager, Mr. Sevalkis, was leaning over the counter sorting receipts. He looked up at his entrance. Jason raised his eyebrows and pointed to his phone.

Sevalkis grimaced. “One of those calls?” he asked.

“Yeah. Gotta go.”

Sevalkis waved a hand. “Get outta here. Come back if you can. Dinner rush in two hours, if you can make it.”

“I’ll try.”

On the other end of the phone, Tim was gulping for breath. Jason moved toward the service entrance, grabbing his leather jacket off the hook on the wall and slinging it on one-handed. “Where are you, Timbo? Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.”

“Quad,” Tim said faintly. “Front of… Front of the library. There’s people around.”

“Okay. That’s good.” Jason slung his leg over his motorcycle. “I’m gonna have to hang up while I drive. Wanna tell me what happened before I do? If not, we can talk when I get there.”

Sometimes nothing happened. Nothing external, anyway. Sometimes it was all inside, just a build-up of pressure until it exploded and Tim couldn’t take it anymore and called for help. And Jason always came. But sometimes there was a trigger, and sometimes it helped to talk about it. Jason would be happy for any information he could get out of Tim when he was this jammed up, even just a word or two.

“I thought I saw him,” Tim said numbly.

Jason clenched his teeth so hard he could hear them creaking under the pressure.

“It probably wasn’t him,” Tim amended. “Probably just…a trick of the light. Or my stupid brain.”

“Maybe,” Jason said. “Maybe not, though. Good job getting somewhere public with lots of people around. Stay there, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

“Yeah.” Tim’s breath was just a wisp. “Hurry, okay?”

“I will.”

He hung up and drove.

He liked the diner. It was mostly a cover, a veneer of legitimacy. He kept light hours, but he worked hard when he was there, mostly janitorial, maintenance, short order cooking during meal rushes. He liked it most of all because they had agreed to his one condition.

First thing at the interview, as soon as he sat down, he put it out on the table. “Listen, I know it’s bad form or whatever for the job applicant to make demands, but I gotta let you know, I can’t work here unless you can put up with something for me. Sometimes I get a phone call, and I have to drop everything and leave. I’ll do my best to come back when it’s taken care of, but it’s not negotiable. If you can’t handle that, we should just end the interview now, and I’ll keep looking for work elsewhere.”

The owner, Anderson, was there, and Jason’s future manager, Sevalkis. Anderson started making uncomfortable noises, but Sevalkis raised a hand. He looked at Jason steadily, barely blinking. “That’s a pretty extraordinary demand. I think we can handle it, as long as you’re not out making drug deals or something. Can you tell me a little more about these phone calls you’ll be getting?”

Jason huffed a laugh. “Not drug deals, I promise. It’s not really your business. But yeah, okay, I get that you need more than my word.”

Sevalkis placed both hands flat on the table and looked Jason deep in the eyes. “I don’t need your life story. A summary will do.”

“I have a little brother. Couple of years ago, he was tortured.” He didn’t say by who, or why, or any other details. This was Gotham. Innocent people got tortured on a semi-regular basis.

“He’s doing okay, most of the time. Going to college, working part-time. Every once in a while it gets to be too much for him, though, and I get a call. And I go.”

The corner of Sevalkis’s mouth turned up. “Your personal Bat signal.”

Jason laughed again, a little more genuinely. “Yeah. We joke that I’m his bodyguard, twenty-four seven. Even when I’m halfway across the city, I’m protecting him in spirit if not in body. He’s a good kid. The best. He doesn’t deserve what happened to him, and he doesn’t deserve how hard things are for him now. I would do anything for him.”

“Including losing any chance at gainful employment?” Anderson asked.

“Including?” Jason gave him a sharp-toothed smile. “That’s the least of what I would do for my baby bro, pal. The very least.”

“I like him,” Sevalkis said, already reaching across the table to shake Jason’s hand. “You’re hired.”

Anderson balked. “No other questions?”

Sevalkis shrugged. “I read his resume. The interview is for gut impressions, not dry facts. A guy who would drop anything to help his kid brother deal with PTSD will work hard and give his all at other things, too, including a job in a crappy little greasy spoon like this one. I like him, and I’m hiring him, unless you want to overrule me.”

Anderson shook his head. Jason and Sevalkis shook hands, and that was it.

Now, he parked his motorcycle basically on the sidewalk of the quad at Gotham U, barely taking time to set the kickstand and take off his helmet before he was jogging across the grass. Tim was sitting at a stone picnic table in front of the library, his bright red hoodie standing out like a flag. He was slumped over with his head buried in his folded arms, and a nice-looking girl was sitting next to him with a hand on his back.

Jason slid onto the bench across from them, giving the girl a pleasant smile. “Hi. You a classmate of Tim’s?”

She nodded. “Zo. Zoanne. We’re not in any classes together, since he started too late, but we hang out sometimes. You’re Jay?”

“Yup. I’ll take over for ya. You can go back and take care of whatever you were doing, no worries. Timmy’s in good hands with me.”

She smiled. “I know. He talks about you a lot. His other siblings, too.”

Zoanne took her leave, and Jason leaned over, his head near to Tim’s. “You wanna tell me where you think you saw him? I’ll check it out for you.”

Tim shook his head against his arms and rolled it over to look at Jason with one eye, peeking out between his arms. “I already sent an alert to O. She’s checking security footage. I don’t think she’s going to find anything, though. It was just me being crazy again.”

“Hey, what have we said about that?” Jason laid his hands on Tim’s upper arms and gave them a careful squeeze. “It’s not crazy to be scared of a dude who hurt you like that. It’s perfectly rational. Your brain is just trying to protect you by pointing out things that even remotely might be him.”

Tim pulled in a shuddering breath and slowly sat up. His arms slid out of Jason’s grip, but he offered his hands instead. Jason folded them between his, massaging carefully but firmly. He could feel the ridges of scars, the bumps and off-angles where the pins had come out. Tim’s hands were shaking, of course. But Jason’s were too, a little.

He kept rubbing Tim’s hands, rolling his slender fingers between his, pressing big blunt thumbs into his narrow palms and massaging in circles. Damian was still the best at giving Tim hand massages, but they all had had plenty of practice by now. It had become a ritual, a way for them to connect with Tim and help him calm down when things were rough, a tangible expression of how much they cared and how much they wanted to erase his pain and help him heal.

Eventually Tim’s shoulders went boneless, his eyes drooping and face slack, and even his hands had relaxed down to their normal faint level of trembling that never really went away. Jason stood up and went around to his side of the table to draw him to his feet. “C'mon, baby bird. Let’s blow this popsicle stand. You want me to take you home, or would you rather come hang out with me at the diner during dinner rush?”

Tim perked up a bit, leaning into Jason’s side as he led him over to his bike. “Will I get to watch you cook?”

Jason chuckled. “Maybe. You like that?”

“It’s funny watching you swear at everyone for not keeping up with you, even while you’re grinning like you’re having the time of your life.”

“Yeah, the diner is good fun. Let’s go. Sevalkis will probably give you a free piece of pie.”

“Rhubarb?”

“You know what, hold that thought. I’ll call ahead and tell him to reserve a piece for you.”

Tim sat on Jason’s bike, grinning without a hint of fear in his eyes, while Jason called his boss and told him to save a piece of his kid brother’s favorite pie. The sky was clear, and McDaniels wasn’t in jail, but he wasn’t here, either. And everything was as good as it could get, for now.

#askbox #fanfiction #my stuff #tim drake #jason todd #yofa #eastofthemoon

75 notes · View notes

stevieraebarnes · 4 years

Note

Fanfic ask meme. Can I ask you all of them? No? Okay, choose any of the following: 1-3, 5, 17, 18, 19, 26, 32, 34, 45, 46, 47? :D

ahaha you can ask me however many you want! It might take awhile…and I’d want time to ask you some questions myself xD

Now let’s see. Wow. Some of these questions are tough :o Here’s what I’ve chosen:

1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

My first ever fanfic I wrote was an X-Files story at age 12. I’m sure it went into the bin at some point, like all of my fanfic I wrote until recently, out of fear of discovery. My first ever posted fic was a destiel work that’s on AO3. I don’t reread the destiel fic – haven’t looked at it in a couple years – but I could definitely stand to reread it. And I like to think I could reread that X-Files fic if I still had it. I’ve always loved ideas. And even if the story isn’t expressed very well, or uses cringe-inducing tropes and dialogue, I’d still know what emotion I was chasing at the time I wrote it and would love to revisit that idea, that feeling.

2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?

My most recent fic is the Lists series and I think it shows a lot of growth, actually. I’ve learned to have more fun with fic, with fandom, and to write things purely because they make me laugh. I’ve also enjoyed writing in different formats than what I came into publicly posting fanfic three years ago.

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

I gotta say, I did not think the fic Round Robin would make so little an impact. I mean, it’s Dick Grayson shipped with Midnighter, Slade, Roy, and Jason and set to a Margaret Atwood piece. C’mon! Thankfully it was a gift fic and I wrote it very specifically with one person in mind. And your beta of it really made that work shine!! Oh well. I still loved writing it. Loved that the recipient loved it. And I loved that it had your stamp of approval!

19. If you had to pick one fic/scene/chapter of your work to describe your entire portfolio to a stranger, which would you pick?

Okay, I stared at this blankly, decided this wasn’t a question I could answer, and then remembered my fic It Ain’t Me Babe. In that work there’s a scene where Red Robin and Robin are perched on a rooftop, observing Red Hood and Nightwing engage in a very serious conversation none of them can hear. They watch in the company of some hired muscle whom had arrived to shoo them off the building. Honestly? It’s probably my most defining bit of writing at this time and I wrote that almost two years ago. Hmm.

Here’s a sampling:

The hired muscle looked from one bird to the other, and then past them. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to the right of Tim.

“Is this what you kids were doing up here?” the man said, looking straight at the alley that currently still housed Dick and Jason. “What are they doing?” he asked, motioning to the men across the street.

“None of your business,” Damian said at the same time Tim said, “We don’t know.”

“Why are they sitting on the ground talking?”

“We don’t know,” Tim said again.

Damian growled.

The man kept watching and the two Robins turned back to face the alley. They watched Nightwing shake his head and place a hand on Red Hood’s shoulder while the Red Hood placed his helmeted head in his hands.

“This is weird,” the man said.

---

Also, can I ask you this same question? What fic/scene/chapter just screams “spoonfic” to you?

34. Was there any fic that you wrote that really surprised you in the fandom reaction? Was it just by the numbers or did they take it an entirely different way?

lol any fan reaction is a surprise to me xD I say this jokingly but I’m, like, semi-dead serious. Every comment and kudos is a surprise.

Thank you dear spoon for this ask! Any disagreements here? Or surprise answers concerning your own fic?

Here’s the ask meme in question.

#ask #fanfic #writing #meme #crookedteaspoon

6 notes · View notes

i-cant-feel-my-eyebrows · 5 years

Text

Silent Scream | Chapter 1

Characters: OC (Evelynn Wayne nee Blair), Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Cassandra Cain

Tagged: @writersfailure Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future updates of Silent Scream!

With a shuddering sigh the young girl rubbed up and down her arms as to bring warmth back into her arms. She had come to Gotham as per her mother’s request, but even though she was still a child, she knew it was solely just to get rid of her. She knew that her birth was not out of love but at a chance of security of her life, obviously it didn’t work and now she was left to suffer as she walked around aimlessly. Unable to keep up anymore she sought for shelter from the rain under a cardboard box hidden behind a dumpster in an alley. Not the smartest choice she knew, but at this point she couldn’t care less. Closing her eyes she tried to tune everything out; the sound of her grumbling stomach, the pitter-patter of rain, the shuffling of feet in front of her-wait what?

Cracking her eyes open, she noticed a looming figure in front of her. Although she quite literally had no reason to live seeing as she was just barely three, Evelynn still felt fear coursing through her veins. Staring in fear her bright blue eyes sparked with life for once since she had been abandoned. Shaking she let out a soft, almost inaudible whimper at the man in front of her. He smelt back, almost acidic like how her stepfather and mother smelt whenever they drank this weird drink. Leaning down his picked her up by a tuft of her black hair causing her to yelp and grab onto his hand while her legs flailed around in hopes of kicking him.

He was muttering something but she didn’t quite understand what he was saying what with the rain, his slurred speech but also the loud and hurried footsteps of a few people. Jumping from the roof a large shadow kicked the man down causing him to drop her, however into the arms of a smaller boy who scowled. “I don’t want her, one of you take her!” He barked throwing her into the arms of someone else who scrambled to catch her, tucking her safely into his arms. Rocking her back and forth he tried to soothe her, well, at least he was nicer than the first boy.

“It’s gonna be alright sweetie, don’t worry. Where are your parents?” He asked softly to her. Furrowing her eyebrows she shook her head, a closed fist closing above the blue and black fabric of his suit. With a confused frown he continued to bounce her in his arms in order to quiet her whimpering. “We’ve taken care of the situation, Nightwing anything about her parents?” The taller figure walked up to them causing her to duck further into the man’s, now known as Nightwing, arms. “Said...well sort of said that she doesn’t have any?” He tried to explain before Evelynn pulled back. With a shaky hand she signed, “My mum kicked me out, dad didn’t want her, she didn’t want me.” With that she frowned, it’ll be just like the rest, people just staring at her in confusion.

That was until from the back a girl walked up to them and signed back, “Can you hear us? Can you speak?” With bright eyes Evelynn signed back much quicker this time, “I can hear! I can’t speak because…” And once again she frowned at her own reason before turning back to the girl. “Bruce Wayne? Do you know Bruce Wayne? My mum said that was my dad.” She frantically signed to her, said girl translating to them before looking at the taller figure. Leaning down the figure asked her with narrowed eyes. “Who’s your mother?” Shaking her head she frowned. “She never told me, but I think it’s Dahlia? I heard the man call her that.” Nodding he stood back up. “Dahlia Blair?” He asked causing her to nod. Blair was her last name so it should be right, right? “Do you know her?” She signed with an unreadable expression. “I did, at one time at least. Tell me why are you looking for Mr. Wayne?” He asked, although his tone was much softer this time. “Mum said he didn’t want me...I want to ask him why.” She sighed before curling back into Nightwing’s arms. “What’s your name, sweetie?” He asked softly. “Evelynn.” She signed, the spark of life in her eye slowly dying down again. They knew who Bruce Wayne was, this meant her journey was ending, finally. “Evelynn, we know where Bruce Wayne is, will you come with us.” With tired eyes she nodded causing the smallest one to scoff. “Going off with strangers? Not a smart idea.” He stated before she signed without a shred of emotion, “It’s not like I much left to live for after I find him, whether I find him or not.”

After the quick, albeit awkward, drive back to the manor a man dressed in a fancy suit ran up to greet them. “Master Dick? What’s in your hands?” He asked cautiously observing the shaking child in his arms. Placing a hand against her forehead the man quickly picked her up, “She’s burning up, I’ll fetch the medicine!” He quickly said while carried her out and into the manor to get her warm.

“So Bruce, got something to say?” Dick asked, one hand of his hip as he looked at said man. Pulling off his cowl he sighed and rubbed the side of his temple. “Her mother was questionable to say the least, she came to tell me the child was mine but I had been off world before she left without a trace.” With another sigh he moved to change out of his suit, after all he had a new daughter to greet.

Walking out of the cave with his four sons and one daughter in tow he caught sight of Alfred feeding her a spoonful of medicine, watching her grimace at the taste but still thank the older man much to his amusement. “Master Bruce, she needs rest so I suggest whatever it is you need to do to wait.” Alfred instructed before turning to the girl only to see her with the same bright blue eyes staring widely at the man in front of her. “I’d agree, but it looks like we’ve got her attention.” He muttered before walking up to her, the small girl craning her neck to look up at him.

“So I heard you’re my daughter? How can you be so sure of that?” He asked causing her to flinch and shrug. “Would you be willing to do a DNA test?” He asked causing a look of confusion to cross her face before nodding hesitantly. Looking at Alfred who nodded he went over to swab the inside of her mouth before exiting, now leaving her with six strangers whose gazes seemed to bore into her. Fidgeting in her seat she looked up at her father before signing hesitantly. “Is it true you didn’t want me? That you didn’t love me?” He was about to respond before she continued on, “Mum said it’s my fault, she said that I ruined her life.” She let out a shuddered breath before moving to rub her eyes. Bruce was once again interrupted by Alfred this time as he walked in and nodded.

With a pained look Bruce leaned down and took her much smaller hands in his. “I don’t know why she would say that, but I need you to know that this isn’t your fault, alright?” He said softly causing her to look at him with watery eyes. “It doesn’t really matter in the end. I don’t know if you’re really my dad, even then it wouldn’t matter.” She signed before he stood up and lifted her into his arms. “You are my daughter there’s no question about that.” He told her much to her surprise. “And without question I’ll take care of you, if you’d like to stay here that is.” He offered her with a smile. “But I can’t speak, I’m not useful, I’ll ruin your life...just like mum.” She signed and was about to continue before Bruce pulled her into a hug, resting her head into the crook of his neck. “That doesn’t matter, it’s what you want. Would you let me take care of you as your father? I can’t promise you anything, but I promise you that I’ll take care of you and love you because you’re my daughter through and through, okay?” He felt her shudder before nodding. It was then he noticed a patch of his shirt getting wet. She was crying.

Pulling back her choked sobs had turn into full blown wailing, however what surprised them the most was the scratchy, unused voice that followed her crying. She wasn’t mute, but just didn’t speak? At the thought Bruce sniffed and rubbed his eyes. Wait, what? Pulling back he realised his vision was blurred by tears, he was confused. Why did his chest clench in pain, yet at every wail it unclenched in relief? “What the hell!?” He turned back to see that Damian had begun to wipe his face from the tears that rolled down his cheeks. His brothers and sister doing the same, even Alfred pulled out a napkin to wipe his. What was going on?

Looking back at the crying girl they noticed a very light, almost unnoticeable ring of blue light circle around her body. It seemed to shoot off of her in waves, hitting everyone and everything within the radius of her, aka all the people in the room with her. “Father! What is going on!?” Damian barked, but his voice wavered due to the assault of tears. “I’m not sure. Evelynn, please stop crying.” Bruce tried to calm down the girl who managed to stifle her sobs, the blue ring around her fading completely along with all their tears. “A metahuman?” Bruce mumbled under his breath before he noticed two small arms tug onto his shirt and held him close to her. With a smile he lifted the girl who instantly wormed her way into his arms, her head resting against his neck.

“Welcome home, Evelynn.”

#batfam #batsis #bruce wayne #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #silent scream

20 notes · View notes

prettylittlebrownskingyal · 5 years

Text

i’ll keep on waiting 🌟

Note: Ik you guys are mostly here for ‘x reader’ content but I was projecting and procrastinating and I wrote a stephcass thing.

Words: 2.2k

Steph is of the opinion that she should really hate Conner Kent. Like, loathe him, actually. Because he just has a way of making a move on everyone she has/had feelings for, and the sad fact of the matter is, he makes it look so easy.

She’s woman enough to admit that. What, with the perfect clone smile and the leather jacket and blue eyes. Of course, she can see what Tim and Cass saw. But that doesn’t mean she has to rationally like him. Yet, she can’t find it in herself to want him dead either.

She has, on occasion, thought about pulling him aside and threatening to shove a piece of Bruce’s kryptonite up his-

“Steph! Hey, how’s it going?”

And there he is, suit and tie and charming smile. She would punch him in the face if she didn’t know he was practically invincible. “Hey, Kon. Enjoying the show?”

He laughs and averts his gaze to the spectacle across the room; Tim and Cass, arms swung around each other, twin Wayne grins and immaculate posture, stealing the souls of a bevvy of old rich ladies.

“It’s creepy that they can just switch it on like that.”

“It’s even creepier when Bruce does it.”

“Bruce is always creepy to me.”

Despite her reservations, she cracks a smile at him and allows him to pull her into a debate about the last Knights versus Monarchs game.

So what if he is Cass’s ( somewhat ) ex, he’s really in the same boat she is. With the exception of the fact that he and Tim are actually dating and she and Cass are well, her and Cass.

She swears, for someone who can level her way through an army with swift and unattached efficiency, Cass is oblivious when it comes to the gigantic, hulking crush she has on her. Or maybe, Steph is just so bad at feelings that she’s the one at fault.

Either way, she has nothing to compare this yearning too. She and Tim started with a brick to the face and the coincidence of being teen vigilantes in the Hellmouth that is Gotham. They were a product of proximity and hormones and though she knows some part of her will always be in love with Tim— the way she’s a little in love with all of them—- they were better off as friends.

The conversation with Conner peters out to a comfortable silence as they watch Tim wrap up his jovial conversation. It’s early enough that Steph knows the schmoozing isn’t over yet, they're going to be at it until they milk all these rich schmucks for what their worth and have the fundraiser’s goal paid in double by the end of the night.

Cass catches her eye across the room, and mouths “You want a drink?”. She signs back, “I need it to live through this,” and feels her whole body flush when Cass laughs.

She makes her way across the room, striding as her dress trails behind her, with two champagne flutes. She and Conner exchange smiles as she approaches, which reignites Steph’s desire to deck him before he goes to take Cass’ place at Tim’s side.

Cass presses the glass into her hand, nose wrinkling in amusement as she watches Stephanie knock it back with no sense of class at all. She’s hoping the alcohol will cover the pink tinge she’s sporting— a recent development, that seems to only happen when Cass comes close to her— and she accepts the second flute and Cass’ wry amusement without complaint.

This little moment, in this little bubble, will be cut short soon when Cass has to go back to being one of the elite Wayne-angel kids. So, fueled by the champagne in her bloodstream, she works up enough courage to ask, “Do you wanna dance?”

Her heart’s hammering in her throat when Cass slips a scarred hand into hers, the other moving to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear. Steph follows the movement with baited breath, and with what she hopes is a blank expression, when Tim’s voice calls out to them. And the moment, the little bubble, it bursts. Ending with Steph’s tiny glimmer of confidence crawling back into her stomach to hibernate.

“I’ll owe you,” Cass whispers, patting her hand as she slinks off again.

Steph watches her walk away and then looks back at where Conner and Tim are cuddled together, letting the feeling of longing grow and sour inside her until she’s sick of herself.

***

Harper is laughing at her.

She’d stumped her big toe on the foot of their shitty couch and went down on the floor between the living room and the kitchen, arms and legs akimbo and dignity nowhere to be found. That was ten minutes ago, and Harper is still laughing at her, manically. Cullen, who was in his room until his sister started imitating a hyena, takes pity on her. He gives her face one sure look and places a tub of ice cream and a spoon near her head. She takes it with a pathetic wave of thanks and holds it close to her stomach, while she waits for the sweet release of death. She texts this to Damian, telling him he has free reign on offing her. He replies with the middle finger emoji and that gif of Judge Judy rolling her eyes.

“My God, Brown. You really are a mess aren’t you?”

“Physically, mentally or emotionally?” she snorts. “Yes to all of them.”

Harper knows what this is truly about. Because Harper has a way of knowing everything sometimes. She can see right through all of Stephanie’s walls when she really wants too, it makes her brand of tough love pretty great to have around. Except, she isn’t going to offer to fix this one for Steph. Her pining could be easily solved with one conversation, and if Steph is too much of a stubborn brat to have it, she isn’t going to go to Cass and say ‘Hey, my friend is in love with you. You should date her.’ That’s too middle school and she’s sure Cass won’t appreciate it.

“Are you just going to keep lying there? Polluting the apartment with your teen angst bullshit?”

“I’m no longer a teen. And yes. Yes, I am. I’m not moving until I die.”

“ Stephanie .”

“What?”

Harper sighs, rubbing a hand down her face. “How long am I going to have to put up with this?”

“Put up with what?” Her mouth is full of ice cream now, she waves the spoon around as she talks. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just here. Suffering. When will the universe give me a break?”

“Maybe you should stop waiting on the universe and just talk to her.”

“To who? The universe? I’m not really-”

“No, you dumbass .” She flings a throw pillow at her. “To Cassandra. About all of your feelings. And then you can put the rest of us out of our misery.”

Steph drops her hands flat to her sides and nudges the ice cream container away as she thinks. “Nope.”

Harper throws another pillow.

***

She gets into a pissing contest with Damian and Jason on Friday’s patrol. Ideally, she should have known better than to take on their combined force by herself; not when their both cut from the same cloth of anger, violence and ruthlessness that has much to do with Talia Al-Ghul.

They're playing a game of ‘How many criminals can you take down before midnight’, which under usual circumstances, Steph was exceptionally good at. And for the first few hours of patrol, she was. Until Tim informed her through the comms that he and Cass were rooting for her as they watched from the CCTV footage in the cave. It then went from beating Jason and Damian’s sorry asses to look cool, look effortless, look badass because Cass is watching.

Obviously, because sometimes the universe is a tepid bitch that likes watching her suffer, she knocks out two guys with quick jabs and follows the third down a fire escape by attempting to grapple to the ground before he descends the stairs, only to get her wire tangled. Which results in her smacking into the side of the building like George of the jungle. At least, that’s what Tim tells her she looked like as he checks her for a concussion. She’s fine, because she’s tougher than she looks honestly, and all she has to worry about is the sore bruise across her forehead that gets her barred from patrol for the rest of the weekend.

Damian and Jason, the sentimental little pricks, project their guilt into treating her nicer than they usually would. Jason sends her a flurry of blackmail pictures of Dick’s questionable fashion moments over the years that she’s sure he got off of Roy. Damian brings her waffles from an expensive cafe across town and spends most of his Saturday on her couch, watching trashy reality shows. Before he leaves, he fixes her with a look that’s somewhere above his usual range of disdain to indifferent. It’s close to pity, but not quite and it makes him look so much like Bruce for a moment that she finds herself sitting up, paying closer attention.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

He rolls his eyes at her near-confusion, looking years above his age as he says, “You have feelings for my sister. Yes?”

She’s taken aback and almost ready to deny it when she remembers that she isn’t exactly subtle and the only person that really doesn’t know about her crush on Cass, is Cass herself. “Yes,” she answers, surely this time.

“And what do you intend to do about it?”

“Is this a shovel talk? Are you...are you really about to warn me?” she cackles despite his murderous little face, “You never did this when I was with Tim.”

“You and Drake were a mess, it wasn’t necessary,” he waves a hand in her direction, dismissing the thought. “And no, Brown. I do not need to warn you about what will happen if you screw up, you already know who I am. I’m merely... offering some advice.”

“Which is what?”

“If you wish to have a relationship with Cassandra, you’re going to have to swallow your stupidity and your fear and tell her that yourself. She will not come to you with a proposal, no matter how much you mope.”

With that he exits out the window, leaving her feeling like an open wound. The treads that she’s bound herself together by threaten to unravel on her living room floor, so she retreats to her bedroom and locks the door behind her.

Steph was a smart girl, she knew her friends were right. She knew the only way out of this sick hole of self-pity was to pick herself up and do what needed to be done. But rejection was just a cliff waiting for her to tumble over, and she wasn’t quite sure how she would ever be able to survive the fall.

She took a long, hard look at herself in the mirror. Breathed in her dishevelled hair, Dick’s old Gotham academy sweatshirt that she bummed from Tim after he stole it off Damian, and the stained sweatpants that she took from Harper’s clean laundry pile because she hadn’t gotten around to her own. She felt weird. Floaty. Like she was on the cusp of grief but she was being strong-armed by something else entirely, something delirious. It’s the flitting hope and anchor of lovesickness that had her sticking her ear pods in, music cranked up to full base as she twirled aimlessly around her bedroom. It was a cliched attempt at willing away the tightness of worry in her spine. It works, after a few songs. She sinks into it, almost gratefully, goes completely zen.

She doesn’t notice Cass until she stumbles into her. The window’s cracked open, letting in the cool night breeze of the city. Cass has her hands on Steph’s shoulders, righting her as she sways, a pretty smile tugging at her mouth. Even in her full Black Bat gear, hood pulled back, Cass looks like an unearthly thing, something good, something angelic.

“You’re sad?” she hums, swiping a hand up to Steph’s cheek, and if she had to die right there she’d be fine with that.

“No,” she lies, leaning into the offered comfort. “I’m fine.”

Cass presses a kiss to the sore bump on her forehead, tentatively, like she doesn’t know Steph is incapable of ever moving out of this moment. She takes the earbuds out Steph’s ears, plucking the phone out of her hands and taps until the music fills the room.

“I do owe you a dance,” she says, tugging Steph into a vague waltz.

She lets Cass manoeuvre her, hoping and praying that this is her salvation, finally. That the waiting will pay off, the waiting that she hadn’t even realized she was doing, will culminate into spilled feelings and she’d finally be able to look at Cass with the love-sick smile Tim saves for Kon, Bruce for Selina.

“I have to tell you something,” she inhales deeply, lungs filling with the smell of Cass’s favourite shower gel, sweat and leather. She’s giddy, as she says, “I should have told you sooner.”

“What is it?”

Cass’s forehead is pressed to hers, there’s a hand on her waist, a palm curved into her own and they're own personal, circle of moonlight haloing them. The words fill Steph’s mouth like bundled cotton, she hears Damian’s voice in her head— “She will not come with a proposal,”— and remembers that Cass’ cornerstone of communication is tactile contact. She leans in, knowing fully well that of this advance was not wanted she’d be on her ass by now, and with as much grace as she can muster, presses a soft kiss into her mouth.

There’s a brief moment, not of shock but perhaps a beat to ground herself, before Cass is tugging her closer, flush against her and weaving a hand into her hair to keep her in place. Bitterly (and pettily) she thinks ‘Suck on that Conner Kent’ before her brain complete shorts out by Cass’ tongue slipping into her mouth. Her heart thuds away wildly against her ribs as Cass gathers her up in her arms.

It feels like days have passed when they finally break for air, noses brushing and lips bitten pink.

“I like you so much,” she admits, finally.

“Really?” Cass teases, soothing her hands down her spine. “I didn’t even notice.”

#stephanie brown #cassandra cain #black bat #spoiler #batgirl #stephcass #fic #not an imagine #femslash february

51 notes · View notes

monoshii-wasu · 6 years

Text

They notice you (batfam x reader)

Au : You’re a doll/figurine and you were sent to one of the batfam to become their helper. Dick was the one that sent you to one of the batfam as a gift but doesn’t know that you’re alive by a certain time of day. (If it sounds confusing, then you can comment me what I need to explain more on)

Warnings : Batfam or the DC universe do not belong to me. They belong to their respective creators. Other than that, none

what’s happening so far? : You are wide awake and they are now fully going to either accept you or leave you.

Bruce :

You blink once, twice, thrice

“Umm. Sir, can you let me go please?”

Bruce accidently dropped you out of shock

Titus catches you just in time!

Bruce asked, “Oh my goodness! Are you okay!?”

He picks you up

your in the palm of his hand

“You’re so smol,” Bruce thinks to himself

Bruce asked, “What are you?”

you dust yourself off

“I’m a Pastiche Doll by the CrystalPaint company.” You say

You check yourself to make sure you didn’t break anything

you sigh in relief

you didn’t break anything

Bruce placed you on his desk so you could be able to sorta be on his level

(He sorta had to kneel down so you could talk eye to eye)

Bruce apologized, “I’m sorry for dropping you. I didn’t expect for you to talk. My name is Bruce Wayne. I assume your name is Pastiche?”

You smiled as you explained, “It’s an honor meeting you Mr. Wayne. You don’t have to call me Pastiche. You could call me whatever name you want to call me. As long as it’s appropriate

Tim :

You are upset at this boy for not cleaning his room

when was the last time you ate?

“Time to get up! It’s already morning and it looks like a nice day as well!

Tim is blinking

Tim says “I must be drea-”

You hit him with a book

“Oh I’m very real buddy!”

Tim shouts, “Who are you by the way!?”

He inspects you

You sigh in annoyance

“This isn’t what I expect our introduction to look like,” You sigh

you explained, “I am a pastiche doll sent by the CrystalPaint company where your doll does your chores yada yada.”

You never liked long introductions

Tim just scratches his cheek

Tim says, “Ah uh the honor is all mine.”

You clap your hands happily

“Good!”

Your face darkens with an evil grin

“Now let’s talk about manners and taking care of oneself”

You ended up scolding him for an hour and 20 minutes

Tim thought “They remind me of Alfred.”

You place your hands on your hip as you declared, “Okay! Now that’s done, I’ll go cook you something to eat.”

You start to leave the room as Tim follows you behind

Tim asked, “You sure? I mean, you’re so small. Would you even be able to hold a knife?”

You smiled mischievously as you placed a finger on your lips

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover ‘master’~”

Jason :

Something pokes your cheek

You groan, “Mehhh five more minutes”

another poke

you open one of your eyelids and see Jason looking at your

you are now a blushing mess while you quickly hide behind Pup pup

“Uh I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jason tries to comfort you

you cover your face with your hands

you slept on the job!

you gather up your courage and you’re now in front of Jason

You started to stuttered, “Uh um H. Hello. My uh.”

you are flushed while trying to say the word ‘master’

“It’s okay. Take all the time you need doll.” Jason reassured you

You calmed down a bit as you say, “I am a pastiche doll by the CrystalPaint Company. It’s an honor meeting you!”

You bow

You’re excited that you didn’t messed it up!

Jason laughs at your enthusiasm

Jason says, “Cool. It’s nice meeting you as well (y/n).”

Your eyes widen in amazement

“Um! Is (y/n) my name?”

Jason asked, “Yeah. I guess you don’t remember being pl-”

Jason drops the fact that he was playing with Bizzaro with you when you were sleeping.

He is mentally embarrassed that he, a grown man, was playing with a doll/figurine

“I uh mean yeah! It’s your name. You don’t like it?” questioned Jason

Your eyes are filled with stars as you yelled, “No! I love it!”

Jason just grins as he thinks to himself, “They’re so cute.”

Damian :

You are against the wall with one knife over your head, one next to your leg, another in between your legs

You are shaking in fear

Damian has his sword by his side

Who in the world sleeps with their sword!?

Apparently this boy does

Damian threatened, “Give me one reason you aren’t a spy sent by Grayson. or worse... my mother.”

You tried to speak but your too scared to even say anything

You nervously stand up while trying not to hit the knives

You immediately bow again and again

You quickly say, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m a Pastiche doll sent by cyber- I mean CrystalPaint! Please don’t kill me!”

Your heart is pounding with anxiety

Damian lessen his grip

“TT. You sure don’t look like a threat,” Damian mutters

You sigh happily

“Thank you for und- AHHH!”

Damian picks you up by the leg and starts inspecting you

“I wonder who crafted you. Are you a robot? A doll being controlled by a spirit?” He says with curiosity

Your face is red from embarrassment

He’s about to inspect your ‘family gem’

You quickly grab a book (with your magic) and hit him on the head with it

“Pervert!!!!” You yelled

He drops you while you safety landed on the floor softly

You are on the verge of crying

Alfred the cat tries to comfort you while Titus tries to distract Damian for a bit

Damian didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable

he reaches his hand out but clenches it into a fist and pulls back

Damian doesn’t know how to apologize

Damian just picks up a tennis ball and says, “Let’s go Titus.”

You are hugging your knees to your chest

“Why is my owner like this? ...At least he doesn’t abuse me,” You thought to yourself

wipes your tears and gets up

you kissed Alfred the cat by the nose

“Thanks for comforting me,” You thanked Alfred the cat

Alfred the cat just meows happily in response

You walk down the kitchen with a little help

Alfred :

Uhhh awkward?

both of you are having a staring contest

you scratch your cheek

“Uh good morning mister.”

“Good morning as well”

“You aren’t scared? Usually some people are.”

Alfred just chuckles as he answers, “When you’re my age, nothing really surprises you that much. Now, who might you be miss?”

You placed the spoon next to you

“I am a pastiche doll by the CrystalPaint Company. It’s an honor serving you,” You say was you bow lightly

Alfred smiles as he says, “It’s a pleasure meeting you as well. My name is Alfred.”

You smiled at him

“Such a nice man.”

Barbara :

You’re upside down

“Uh hey. Can you let me go?”

Barbara screams in response

“Okay. Nice talk,” you say in sarcasm

You fall to the ground

You try to stop your fall but your too late

You hear a crack

you opened your eyes and you see a crack in your leg

great. Just great. You broke on the first day on the job

Barbara recovers quickly from her shock state

she quickly says “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

She ends up fixing your leg with some glue

You wobble a bit as you stand up

you use Barbara’s finger as support

After you’re sitting down comfortable and Barbara has calmed down

Barbara asked, “What are you?”

You say, “I’m pretty sure the readers are tired of me saying the same stuff over and over again. I’m a Pastiche doll that does your chores and yada yada.”

Barbara is confused but she just goes with it

“Um my name is Barbara. What’s yours?”

You smile while saying, “You could name me anything. That’s if I like it.”

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #damian x reader #Alfred #barbara x reader #barbara #DC #dc fanfic #DC universe

135 notes · View notes

bat-losers-inc · 5 years

Text

Kintsugi: Chapter 4

Warnings: drug use

Summary: Final Crisis/Red Robin AU. Dick admits Tim to a psychiatric facility after Bruce is lost in time. Jason finds him suffering at the hands of a Scarecrow-copycat and breaks him out. While safe in Jason’s apartment, Tim still struggles with panic attacks and drug withdrawal. At a loss for what to do, Jason calls Roy Harper.

Pairings: Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Roy Harper, Roy Harper & Jason Todd.

“Can I get you boys something to start off with? Drinks?”

Tim managed to turn his flinch into a nod of his head, though not before Jason caught the deliberate nature of the movement.

“Uh, yeah,” Tim cleared his throat but his voice still sounded just as hoarse as it had a moment ago. “Can I get a coffee, please? With creamer.”

Jason eyed him even as their waitress directed her attention at his profile, her pen held limply over her open notepad. He spoke without addressing her. “Just water for me, thanks.”

She turned away to go fetch their drink orders and Tim turned his gaze immediately towards the window beside their booth, not wanting to witness Jason’s mental assessment of him again.

He’d woken up on Jason’s couch an hour ago in new clothes that were a size too large for him and no idea how he’d gotten there. What he could remember from the night before felt more like a dream than it did reality, and most of it was more sound and sensation than anything else. Things like— the horrible throat-choking sensation of panic at the hospital when the fear toxin was coursing through his bloodstream. The vibrating hum of a car (stolen, he’d only later learned from Jason) mixed with the deep rumble and rise of Jason’s voice. Waking up had been an equally surreal experience as he opened his eyes to see Jason perched on the edge of the chair across from him, the sun setting a flaming orange through the window at his back.

And Jason had erupted into a strangely affectionate kind of excitement when he noticed Tim trying to push himself up onto his elbows, calling him ‘Timmy’ and then— as if sensing how out of character that was for him— quickly brushed it off with a clearing of his throat.

“Hey, kid,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “How about we get something to eat? I’ve got to drop some letters in the mail anyway.”

So they’d walked the half mile from the docks to a diner that served an odd mixture of local workers and Gotham U students who lived off campus. The entire walk there, Tim could sense that Jason wanted to ask him a million questions, or perhaps was working out the best way to tell him something important. Sitting across from him now, though, in a booth with cracked leather cushions, he couldn’t help feeling like he was waiting to be ambushed.

The waitress returned, toting coffee and water. Tim poured cream and sugar into his coffee and stirred it together with the dented flatware spoon the diner offered, before setting it aside.

Jason reached across the table and plucked the mug from his saucer. He took a sip, absorbing the openly aghast expression Tim leveled at him over the rim of the mug while he did so.

He winced. “I could have done with a bit less sugar.”

Tim continued to stare at him, a flush breaking out across his cheeks. “What?”

Jason rolled his eyes and pulled Tim’s saucer towards him, placing in its spot his untouched glass of water. “Just drink some water, you miserable dehydrated fuck.”

To his own surprise, Tim’s lips twitched into a smile. Well that sounded a bit more like the Jason he knew, not this person sitting across from him that just a moment ago had struck him as Dick possessing Jason’s body from the other side of Gotham. He tried to hide his smile behind his glass as he took an obedient sip, but ultimately failed.

“What could possibly be so amusing?”

“Nothing.”

Jason leaned forward over his interlocked fingers, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline. “No, really. I’m dying to know.”

“You really need to stop with the dead-guy puns. It’s been six years.”

“Thanks for that input, kid. One quick question, though. Have you died? No? So, yeah shut up and tell me what’s so funny.”

Tim gave up the argument with a sigh. “Seriously, it’s nothing. Just— you were weirding me out before with how nice you were being to me. Glad we’re back to normal.”

Jason blinked like Tim had stuck his fingers in his water glass and water in his face. He learned back against the booth cushions and tapped a sharp rhythm on the formica table with his thumb.

“Wow, that’s um— yeah, that’s really fucking insulting, Tim. To both of us.”

Despite his harsh words, his voice lacked any anger and it took Tim a second before he realized that something was wrong, confusion overriding his aches and fatigue in an instant. What had he said wrong now? It suddenly felt like all of his family members were finding fault with him and he was completely blind to it. ��I didn’t—”

Jason held up a hand, shutting off his apology before he could even start.

“No, I get it. We were never that close, but I care about you. If I find you drugged out of your mind in a mental hospital, it’s ‘normal’ for me to act freaked out and concerned the next day. And it’s ‘normal’ for you to take a day— or a week, hell take a fucking month— to digest that shit before acting like everything is fine again.”

“I know that—”

“Do you?”

Tim took a breath, trying to force some conviction into his voice. The world around him still felt overly bright and glassy, like street lights reflected on wet pavement, and despite his best efforts he found his mind pulling away if he didn’t put the full weight of his attention on Jason and the words coming out of his mouth. “Yes.”

He wanted to elaborate more—felt like he owed it to Jason and to himself to explain his side of it all while somebody finally gave him the chance, but at that moment their waitress returned. They were so deep into their own private conversation that her arrival startled them both with enough force to jerk them away from each other to their own separate sides of the booth. If anyone else in the place was paying attention it would have looked like they were up to no good. But neither the tired-looking waitstaff nor the worn-down clientele paid them even a glance up from their plates. The apathy of this place hit Tim all at once and it was reassuring in a way Tim couldn’t put into words. He felt himself shedding his protective layer like a snake would it’s skin.

Jason ordered a plate of fries for them to share and waited in patient silence until they were slid onto the middle of the table before he continued their previous conversation.

“I know you’re used to getting into rough situations,” began Jason with a wave of his hand. “It comes with the job, but this isn’t something that you can just bounce back from. You’re going to have to detox and even after that you might still need to go to meetings and see a sponsor.”

Tim’s fingers tightened around his water glass. His mouth was dry but he was too nervous to take a sip, afraid of what Jason’s next words would be. “I know that this is a lot to take on, but I just want you to know that I’m not expecting anything from you. I’m 17, old enough to make my own decisions and I have an apartment in my name. I already have the emancipation documents ready there—”

“Woah, hey save the speech. I didn’t sell you out to Dickhead. I’m offering to let you stay at my place.”

“You are?”

“Well, yeah. I mean…” Jason shrugged a leather clad shoulder. “If you can swallow your pride for a little bit, I’ve got a free couch and some experience with this. Enough to help you through the worst of it...should you want that.”

Tim picked up a fry and broke it in half as he took in this new information. He broke those pieces down into smaller bits, afraid to lift his eyes and meet Jason’s gaze when he spoke with such tenderness. “You’d do that for me?”

“Well, I can’t let you go through it alone—Roy would kill me— and I won’t let you continue to use, so… yeah. The decision was simple.”

It was decidedly not a simple decision, but looked at with Jason’s mindset— with his background and his past teammates— it really did seem that way. Tim took a moment to admire the way that Jason approached breaking free of a drug addiction the way other people did replacing a busted tire. He just rolled up his sleeves and did it.

They stayed at the diner a while before finally getting up to leave. Enough time for Jason to fill in the gaps in Tim’s memories and to explain the reason behind Roy’s trip down to the safehouse he shared with Jason in Gotham Proper. Tim waited and watched the cars rushing past out the dark window as Jason stepped away to call Roy to come pick them up.

When it was time to go, Tim watched from a step or two behind as Jason paid for their barely-touched meal. There was a clatter as Jason scooped a handful of spare change out of his front pocket.

“Aw hell,” muttered Jason, hurriedly trying to corral the spinning dimes and nickels before they tumbled off the edge of the cashier's counter.

Tim's eyes followed the reeling progress of a rust colored penny, feeling his world sway and lurch with each full spin it took across the counter. He ran a shaky hand over the damp sweat of his upper lip.

Despite the water that Jason had forced on him earlier, his mouth was as dry as sawdust as he open it to call out Jason's name. Something was very wrong, but he found himself struck mute in the face of it. That watery, half present sensation had amplified inside Tim and it was only now that he was standing upright that he realized how untethered he felt to the world around him. The diner interior looked more like a backdrop abandoned on a production lot during a sudden storm. Around him the room contorted, the bright neon and chrome streaking as the canvas twisted and snapped to and fro.

Jason slapped his hand down on the penny, and Tim shoved at the door behind him, stumbling out into the blessed cool of the parking lot.

“Tim? Hang on a sec won't you—”

Jason came up behind him right as he leaned against a parked car and vomited onto the black asphalt beside the front tire. There wasn’t much in his stomach to cough up except a few partially digested fries and a trail of watery bile. Even after that had come up Tim continued to dry heave, working his already sore throat. Jason’s hands came up to brace him at his shoulder and hip.

“Deep breaths.”

One of his hands moved to rubbed against Tim’s back. When he finally stopped retching, Jason walked him over to sit on the sidewalk with his back against the diner wall.

“Something’s wrong,” Tim’s hands were shaking where they rested on his knees. He tried to curl his fingers into fists, but it did nothing to stop his trembling. “Wrong. Jason, what—”

“Shh,” Jason had an arm wrapped around his shoulders and his head tucked against his temple so his voice drowned out the street noise and electrical hum of the diner’s neon lighting. “Don’t work yourself into a panic. It’s just the beginnings of withdrawal. You slept for a day and a half. No drugs since I pulled you from Breckenridge.”

“Oh, c’mon!” A man cried behind Jason. “That’s disgusting.”

As Jason turned to look over his shoulder, Tim peeked around him to see a man standing over the mess he’d made a moment ago. As if sensing his eyes on him, he turned to glare at the two of them sitting on the walkway. The man took in Tim’s pale shaky form, the sick on his too long shirt sleeves and the way he clutched his middle.

Tim dropped his gaze hurriedly to the pavement, already knowing what he saw in him.

“Yes?” snapped Jason, standing.

The man shook his head in disgust and turned away, but not before spitting just loud enough for them to hear, “Fucking junkie.”

“Hey, shit-for-brains!” Jason called, bringing the man to a stop. Tim had to tilt his head way back against the bricks to see Jason's face from where he sat and from that far up, Jason towered over him like a protective god, his head haloed in fluorescent pink.“He’s not a fucking junkie. He’s got the fucking stomach bug. You ever heard of it? What kind of a horrible person do you have to be to go around throwing out insults like that at a sick kid? He’s been on the bathroom floor puking his brains out for three days, hasn’t eaten more than a packet of crackers, and I was just trying to take him out for some fresh air and see if he could hold something down. Screw me for being a good big brother, I guess right?”

“Hey, man,” He put his hands up defensively. “I didn’t know. It’s just around here we get a lot of addicts and alcoholics that hang around—”

“ — Yeah, save it, asshole. Why don’t you make yourself useful and grab some napkins and mints from the cashier.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Course.” He ran back in to fetch them and Jason snatched them out of his cupped hands the moment he offered them to him.

“Here,” Jason split the wad of napkins down the middle and handed half back to him. “Clean off your car and get the hell away from us.”

The man was gone in record time, reversing quickly out of his spot and speeding out onto the street.

Jason watched his tail lights recede for a moment before he returned to stand over him. He offered Tim a mint.

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Tim. “He was right.”

Jason pulled a face and pocketed the spare napkins in his jacket pocket. “Yeah, but nobody ever said he had to be a judgemental asshole about it.”

A pair of headlights arced across the parking lot, partially blinding them for a moment. Ah, finally, Roy was here. Tim stood only to sway heavily into Jason’s shoulder and quickly found Jason’s hand slipping under his armpit to hold him steady.

Roy stepped out of the car, red hair tied up in a messy bun and wearing a pair of worn out jeans and a shirt wrinkled from sitting in the driver’s seat for part of the day. “Did I miss something interesting? Some guy just tore ass coming out of here.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively but said nothing.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’ve kept him alive this long.”

“Yeah, but if he faints again you’re carrying him into the safehouse. Don’t let his size fool you, the kid’s nothing if not dense.”

Roy laughed and held open the door to the backseat for them. “C’mon, Jaybird. Let’s get him home.”

#kintsugi #bat-losers-inc #LittleDarlingXOX #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #roy harper #batman fic #withdrawal tw #drug use cw #drug use tw #batman

18 notes · View notes

12freddofrogs · 5 years

Text

Gotham Crusaders - A Batfamily TV Show

I am currently writing a surprisingly long description of how the Batfam could potentially be adapted into a TV show. It’s on Ao3 here, and includes detailed character arcs, dialogue, fight scenes, jokes, and emotional moments.

Particularly in Chapter/Season Four, an extract of which you will find below. This is Tim’s Robin era part two, aka the Under the Red Hood season. Season Four involves a heavy focus on both plot and characterisation, with fun family crisises for everybody.

Episodes include the new crimelord Red Hood making a name for himself in Gotham; a cupcake selfie that leads to broken bones; Steph’s brief run as Robin; Jack Drake making an effort to be a better father that he doesn’t necessarily succeed at; why rogues should not leave hackable robot armies in the open; and a mixture of heart-warming and heart-breaking moments in quick succession. And two people get hit with a crowbar, only one of whom deserved it.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Chapter one here

Season Four, Episode One - Worst Nightmare

Batman and Robin have a case.

Scarecrow is planning something.

His research discovered a promising new strain of fear gas. A delayed reaction.

Unfortunately, he needs money to create this new-and-improved fear toxin.

So Scarecrow robs a place.

A bank is traditional, if cliché, and doing it in the middle of the day almost guarantees no Bat presence.

It works.

He escapes fairly easily, leaving a cannister of fear gas behind him for the police to hesitate over.

There’s a storm growing as Batman, Robin, and Spoiler go deal with Scarecrow.

They track him to a new lair, dark and creepy and with the appropriate weather outside for dealing with the Master of Fear.

As fitting the theme, they split up to search for clues.

Meanwhile, Dick and Cass are at the manor for a more domestic situation: teaching Cass how to bake cookies.

It’s a much lighter B-plot with very little screentime. For them the storm outside makes the warm kitchen seem cosy.

The biggest conflict is convincing Cass that the white powders of flour/salt/baking powder/sugar aren’t interchangeable.

Dick teaches her to lick the spoon and Alfred’s lesson is further derailed.

Across the city, Robin triggers one of Scarecrow’s boobytraps.

He realises a gas is being let into the room almost immediately, has his rebreather clutched to his face within moments.

When he doesn’t react he assumes he was fast enough.

He reassures the concerns over their comms he’s fine, his yelp was just being startled.

Spoiler is the first to find Scarecrow.

He’s working in his lab, mixing together chemicals.

When she arrives, he throws the half-finished concoction in her face.

She’s doubles over, choking, as Scarecrow grabs his mask and pushes past her. He picks up several vials on the way out.

The gas that hit Spoiler was incomplete and not designed for an instant effect. Together, those facts mean she has a comparatively minor response.

She’s nervous, she’s jittery, she’s hallucinating her memories lucid.

A young Steph, maybe seven, peeks out around the door.

“You have to run,” tiny Steph says.

“I… what? Why?”

“Dad’s not happy with us.”

Spoiler flinches, but stands up. Her knees are shaky as she grips the table. “Well, I’m not happy with him, either. I’m not afraid of Da — wait. Dad isn’t here.”

Her tiny self has vanished.

As has Scarecrow. And Spoiler is left disorientated and afraid.

Batman finds Scarecrow’s research.

He learns what the audience already knows, that Scarecrow wanted to create a time-delay.

He also finds a collection of syringes labelled ‘antidote’.

He destroys the research, keeping a sample of the fear gas.

Meanwhile, Robin is starting to react.

A rumble of thunder make him jump, needing to bite his hand to stop himself from screaming.

He’s increasingly frightened of the world around him.

For a moment he sees spiders crawling along his arms. Robin frantically starts to swipe, but they disappear before he touches them.

“Spoiler, Robin.” The communicators crackle. “I discovered what Scarecrow’s working on. It’s a design that means that if you’re hit, you won’t start showing symptoms for almost an hour.”

“Really?” Robin asks, his breathing coming quick. “That could… that could explain it.”

“Are you implying the trap you set off is impacting you?”

Robin closes his eyes tight, trying not to look at the shadows reaching for his legs. They vanish when he ignores them. “Yep.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m…” He turns around. The walls start to drip blood. “I… don’t know. Batman, I’m scared.”

“Just remember it’s not real. Spoiler, stay where you are. You got dosed too, and it could come back any minute. I’ll find both of you.”

There’s another crack of lightning.

The power goes out. Robin flees into the nearest room.

His panic is not helped by finding Scarecrow.

“Oh, Boy Wonder. Good.” Jonathan Crane isn’t wearing his mask, is merely sitting on the table. “I was hoping to see the effects of my new toxin. You were sprayed forty-five minutes ago, was it?” He pulls a notebook and a pen from his labcoat.

“Are you real?” Robin asks, hating the tremor in his voice.

“Now that’s a promising reaction.”

Behind the scientist is a swirling mass of bats. Robin ducks as they fly overhead and shatter like glass when they hit the wall, shards showering to the ground.

Scarecrow laughs.

“Okay, okay.” Robin gets to his feet again unsteadily, pointing his staff at Scarecrow. “I’m going to go with the theory you’re real. That or I’m about to punch a hallucination in the face. Either works.”

“You’re not in any condition to fight anyone.” Scarecrow picks up a bladed sickle from the desk.

The audience is watching from Robin’s perspective as the sickle shifts, grows bigger with another hundred attachments and blades appearing, before snapping back to a simple blade. Robin shakes his head.

The fight is told almost entirely from Robin’s perspective, high on fear gas.

The full effect hasn’t totally reached him yet. He’s still aware of most of what’s going on, knows that it’s not real. He’s able to fight off the hallucinations with a little effort, but he can’t afford the distractions.

He dodges Scarecrow, and has to jump to avoid Bane. At which point he twists around, confused, and Bane’s gone again.

He jumps to the side of the blade, a perfect somersault away, and springs into a crouch.

He falters when he notices a corpse in a similar costume with different colouring lying beside him. Jason Todd, face greyed out and starting to rot behind the mask.

For a long moment he stares at his predecessor’s body, before the second Robin sits up and lunges at him.

Robin scrambles away. He closes his eyes for a moment and the image of Jason vanishes, to be replaced with Joker, crowbar in hand and Harley Quinn on his arm.

There are shadows moving on the wall, silhouettes of thugs creeping towards him, and the floor is cracking into pieces. Lightning flashes again.

“Not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.” Robin closes his eyes.

When he opens them, everyone is gone — including Scarecrow. The lights have switched back on.

Tim stands up slowly, looking around suspiciously. Even the storm has vanished. “This can’t be real.”

As he says it, the edges of the room start to blur, fading into white. The blankness spreads fast until Tim is standing in an empty expanse of nothing, just him in the world.

“No, no, no, this isn’t real.” He sinks to his knees. “This can’t be real don’t leave me alone don’t leave me—”

The audience’s view changes back to reality.

The room goes back to being darkened, night-time in a storm. Robin is still curled up on the ground, begging for someone to find him.

“Fascinating.” Scarecrow takes the time to put down his scythe. He writes down notes about Robin’s condition, before lifting the blade again.

Batman, always one to arrive at the last moment, breaks into the room.

Within moments Scarecrow is defeated.

Crane might be a formidable opponent against a heavily drugged teenager, but a clear-headed Batman is out of his league.

Batman shoves him against the wall. “Explain. Now.” He holds one of the ‘antidote’ needles in front of Scarecrow’s face.

“Surely you understand how to read, Batm—ow, ow, ow!” Crane winces as he’s pushed harder.

“Will it work on whatever you hit Robin with?”

“Yes, yes, those are the ones designed for this formula.”

“If you’re lying, I will break every one of your bones piece by piece,” Batman warns, letting Scarecrow slide to the ground. “Don’t move.”

He kneels in front of Robin, who doesn’t seem to comprehend what’s in front of him. It does mean he doesn’t fight when Batman lifts his arm and injects the syringe into his skin.

Camera switches back to Robin’s perspective as the white blankness starts to implode. He blinks, frowns up at his mentor. “Batman?”

“Robin. Can you walk?”

Robin blinks again, looking sick. Batman helps him to his feet.

They leave Scarecrow handcuffed for the police.

Spoiler is still sitting in the room.

Her younger self has come back, and they’re discussing life.

“Do you know we’re doing here?” Spoiler asks. Tiny Steph shakes her head. “We’re here to fight the Scarecrow. With Batman. And Robin. We’re here to help people.”

“We can’t even help ourself,” tiny Steph murmurs.

“Sure we can.” Spoilers smiles at her. “It gets better once you get bigger.”

Their conversation is a calmer hallucination than anything Tim had to deal with. It’s also a way of delving into Spoiler’s psyche with the literal embodiment of her fears in the room.

“When I get bigger?” tiny Steph repeats. “You mean, when I grow up like you? Don’t make me laugh. You think you’re a hero? You think you can make a difference in Gotham? You’re nothing.” Tiny Steph leans forwards, her baby teeth bared. “You’re going to get yourself killed and no-one is going to mourn you.”

Spoiler blanches.

The door opens and Batman is there, still supporting Robin.

The hallucination vanishes.

“Spoiler. Let’s go.”

He tells her that he has got an antidote, but since not even Scarecrow knows what she was doused with he doesn’t want to use it on her without further testing. Spoiler agrees to the wait, a little reluctantly, but her hallucination remains gone.

Robin is already picking up a sample from the dropped glass.

They all return to the Cave.

Bruce has Tim and Steph thoroughly tested and given antidotes.

Cass comes downstairs with a plate of fresh cookies.

Steph and Tim try them, not noticing Dick frantically shaking his head, and nearly choke.

Despite Alfred’s best efforts, she had mixed up certain white powders — one teaspoon of sugar and a full cup of baking powder.

Alfred’s cookies, however, do wonders for helping them recover from the last of the fear gas.

The night finishes kind of cheerfully, with everyone joking and eating cookies and making a valiant-if-pointless attempt to sneak Cassandra Cain’s baking into the bin without her noticing.

Entire Fic Here

Season One Episode Here: In which Dick Grayson, 17-year-old ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, gets kidnapped. He is very bored.

Season Two Episode Here: In which Robin!Jason trades himself for a hostage, proceeds to spend the subsequent car chase taunting Two-Face as much as he can.

Season Three Episode Here: in which Gotham high school suffers from a musical episode. Tim really wishes Dick would stop laughing.

#batfam #batfamily #batman #Tim Drake #Robin III #Stephanie Brown #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Cassandra Cain #Alfred Pennyworth #Nightwing #Black Bat #DC #12freddofrogs writes #Gotham Crusaders #this is actually not the full episode I had to cut equivalent of about five minutes off the end #because everything in s4 ties into the plot and if I wanted it to be a satisfying ending I had to shorten the margins a little #Scarecrow #fear gas

3 notes · View notes

arixa24 · 5 years

Text

Old Programming, Part 1

“Come, little birdie. Why don’t we have some fun!” The sound of the Joker’s maniacal laughter filled the air.

Tim hated that sound.

He started to run and run, his legs taking him as far as they would take him, which wasn’t very far due to his injuries. He was back in his old robin uniform, bruise and blood covered his skin. His body and mind hurt.

“Tim...Timmy...wake up...wake up!” The voice was different and it sounded more frantic.

Sitting up in bed Tim tries to send a punch to blurry figure in front of him, his bunch is dodged and he's pulled into a hug slash choke hold. Dick had his little brother pinned against his own, Tim desperately faught against his grasp, “Tim calm down, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare.”

Once Tim’s vision clears he stops squirming and then manages to push himself out of Dicks’ grasp, “Get off of me!”

Tim wasn’t one to lash out and he didn’t mean to, the dream really got him out of sorts. Taking a deep breath he releases it and then says to Dick, “I’m sorry, it was just a horrible dream.”

“It’s alright buddy. Alfred made breakfast.” Dick replies getting off Tim’s bed and leaves the room. Tim puts his head in hands for a few seconds, wiping the sweat from his face. He could help but let the sudden fear cloud his judgement. He remembered everything he did back then and he hated. No matter what happened he couldn’t get the images out of his head.

Getting out of bed he tries to get rid of the horrid imagery but nothing seems to fade. Walking down the stairs he heads into the dining room and joins his brothers for breakfast. He sits next to Jason and begins to pour himself a bowl of cereal. He pours in the milk and brings a spoonful to his mouth only for it to fall out of his shaky hands. The loud clanking noise draws everyone's attention away from their breakfast and over to the source of the sound; Tim.

Tim’s hand flung to his nose as he felt something slowly run his nostrils. Pulling his hand back he notices just what he expected, blood. Laughter filled the air around him, it wasn’t the Jokers insane cackling. It was his own.

And that scared him.

Pushing the chair back as he stands up, in one swift motion he was telling everyone a quick sorry and the rushing out of the dining room, to the bathroom that was nearby. Everyone in the dining room was shocked by Tim’s haste actions. He shut the door behind him and started to grab paper towels to try and stop the bleeding.

“Ah what’s wrong boy wonder? Don’t you want them to see who you really are?” The Jokers’ twisted words bounced around in Tim’s head.

Tim dismissed the voices and just assumed they were apart of him not getting enough sleep. He didn’t want to think about it, he just wanted to blame it on the lack of sleep. “I’m offended, J.J. Have you really forgotten me?”

His whole body cringed at the name. He hadn't been that in a long time. “No...that’s not who I am...”

Tim’s jaw clenches shut, he wanted the joker out of his head. “Come on J.J. It'll be just like old times. You've been dying to get rid of them ever since the start!”

“No!” Tim yells in frustration and anger as his fist collides with the counter around the sink. He couldn’t hurt his family, not again.

A knock on the door causes him to jump, “Tim are you okay?”

The voice belonged to Bruce, Tim figured he’d come and check on him later not now. “KILL HIM! You know you want to!”

Tim runs his fingers through his hair and says, “Yeah, I...I just need a couple of minutes.”

“Okay.” Bruce replies, walking away. He knew something was up, but knowing from past experiences it was better to let Tim come to him with his problems than to force him.

Leaning against the wall, he begins to get his breathing under control. He was going to get through this and no one was going to know. He wasn’t going to drag anyone else into the Jokers maddening mind games. He remembered what happened to Bruce, Dick and Babs when they found him. Bruce wouldn’t even let him be Robin anymore but that didn’t stop him from becoming Red Robin.

Pushing himself, he opens the door and heads out of the bathroom. Rubbing the pain away, the taunting voices of the Joker fade into nothingness. He moves slowly into the dining room and sits at his place next to Jason. He takes a bite of his soggy cereal, not caring about the gross taste it leaves in his mouth.

Once breakfast is finished, Tim heads down to the Batcave. Sitting down at the big chair, he logs in and then proceeds to type in Joker Jr. A file is brought up and he begins to sort through it, a few seconds later his access is denied and the file is closed. Huffing in anger as he reads the words across the screen. It didn’t take long for Bruce to get down to the Batcave, he was in his study when Tim went down there.

“Tim, why are you trying to access those files?” Bruce asks, concern laced his voice like a bullet.

Tim somewhat angrily got up from the chair, it scoots back some when he gets up. Meeting Bruce half way he replies a little snarky, “Well, Bruce. I was the one to do all those things, shouldn't I at least know what I did!”

“Tim, that wasn’t you-.” Before Bruce could even say another word to even possibly try to calm him down but Tim is faster, “Really? Then why would you be hiding it?!”

He doesn’t even let the older man try an explain his reason for caution, he storms out of the Batcave and right up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. The voices start to scream inside his head again, leaving him in a constant state a pain.

1 note · View note