#are red robin slash tim drake | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfjackle-creates · 3 months

Text

Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday. Bring Me Home won last week's poll. But it was a close one! If you want a say in what I post next week, be sure to vote in this week's poll. ^.^

Story Summary: Danny's parents find out his secret. It doesn't go well. But he's not alone. His friend Tim Drake, better known as Red Robin, and the Young Justice will not let him suffer.

We switch to Tim's POV for this part.

Warnings: Aftermath of torture

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: First, Last

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

The instant Kon got the door to the lab open, Tim sprinted down the stairs. The first thing he saw was Jack and Maddie standing over a table, green ectoplasm, blood covering everything.

Then his eyes fixed on Danny. Danny, cut open and bleeding with a muzzle on while his parents looked at his insides.

He rushed forward, tackling Maddie and tearing her away from Danny. She screamed and fought back, landing one punch before Tim kicked her back a step. Then he pulled out his staff and landed a hard blow across her chest, forcing her further back.

Next to him, Cassie was taking care of Jack. He exchanged a quick glance with her and the two began herding the pair towards the wall. Away from Danny.

Behind him, Tim could hear Sam call out for Kon then a cry of pain.

“He’s still alive!” called out Kon. “I can hear both his core and heart.”

Tim couldn’t relax. Alive didn’t mean much. He put more force on his next swing of his staff, aiming for Maddie’s shoulder. But she ducked and twisted just right to get under the swing and move closer.

She slashed back with a scalpel, one still covered in Danny’s blood. Tim growled as he blocked it with his arm, the armor of his suit preventing it from reaching skin. He swung his staff again, getting her in the side hard then jerking up to hit her in the armpit.

He smiled in satisfaction when he dislocated her shoulder, causing her to drop the scalpel.

“You’ve got this all wrong!” she protested as she held her shoulder. “Jack and I are the good guys here. The ghosts, they’re all evil!”

Tim snarled. “The only evil I see here are the two so-called scientists who were torturing their own son!”

Maddie tensed at his words. “Don’t you dare say that. I’m trying to save my son from the monster that took his body.”

Tim swung again, aiming for her feet. Already distracted by the pain in her shoulder, the hit landed and she fell. He hit again and he felt her ankle break. Good, she wouldn’t be getting away.

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up,” growled Tim.

Jack landed on the ground next to his wife, taken out by a punch from Cassie. Tim took the time to swing at him, too.

Again and again and again, he brought his staff down on them. Not stopping as they cried out in pain or as he felt more bones break under his blows. Until the time when he tried to swing down, but his staff refused to move.

He spun around, scowling, to come face to face with Cassie who had his staff firmly in her own grip.

“That’s enough, Rob. They’re down and they won’t be moving. Impulse and I will make sure of it. You need to go with the others.”

Behind her, Tim could see Sam fussing over Danny, still on the table. Bart and Tucker were at the computers trying to download as much information as they could. And Kon was staring right at him.

“Transport?” asked Tim.

Kon pulled out his phone to check. “Just arrived. Let’s go, Rob.”

Tim nodded. “Fine.” To Cassie, he said, “I want them in custody.”

She nodded. “Obviously. We all do. Impulse, Tucker, and I will take care of things here.”

“Then let’s go.” Tim stalked away from Jack and Maddie, refusing to look back. He wasn’t sure he could stop a second time.

Someone must have found a blanket and gotten it under Danny. All Kon had to do was touch the blanket, and it lifted up. Danny was held completely straight in the make-shift stretcher as Kon single-handedly used his TTK to carry him, Sam leading the way out of the lab.

The doors opened for them on the way out, Kon’s TTK again. And sure enough there by the curb was a nondescript van, engine still running.

Jazz got out the driver’s seat the instant Kon appeared in the doorway to open the back of the van.

“Bring him in here! I’ve got a bed set up,” she said.

Kon, of course, went first. But Tim and Sam were only steps behind him. Inside the van, the bench on one side had been fitted with a futon mattress to form a makeshift bed. Overhead, lights had been fitted to make sure the area was bright enough to see. Kon carefully laid Danny down then backed up so Sam and Jazz could move in.

“Keys are in the ignition,” said Jazz. “Get us away from the house, then let Sam and I patch him up.”

“You’ve got it,” said Kon who took his spot behind the wheel.

Tim shut the doors to the van and stood against the opposite side of the van. This was his first good look at Danny.

His friend was still in his Phantom form, but his jumpsuit had been torn and peeled away from his body. His chest was covered in so much blood he could barely see the wound, but the tell-tale y-incision was unmistakable.

Jazz and Sam were carefully wiping away the blood as best they could, using towels that had been neatly stacked in a box next to the cot.

Tim looked around until he saw an empty bucket. He pushed it towards the two girls. “Put the dirty ones in here.”

Kon pulled away from the Fenton house, aiming for their local out-of-town-limits rendezvous spot. “I can keep Danny from being jostled by the road. Don’t know if I can do the same for the rest of you if you’re moving, though.”

“Let’s not test it right now,” said Tim. “But we will be practicing that later. Never know when we might need it again.”

Jazz dropped her first towel and grabbed another. Her hands were shaking.

Tim knelt by her side and placed a hand on her wrist. “Let me. Right now we’re just trying to hold him together and I can do that as well as you can. He’s going to be just fine, I’ll make sure of it.”

“But I’m the one who trained with Frostbite.” Her voice cracked on a sob.

Tim grabbed the towel from her hands and used it to put pressure on Danny’s wound. “And I don’t need specialized training for this part of it.”

Jazz hesitated a moment longer, but with a last look at her brother, she spun and ran to the other side of the van. Tim listened to her muffled cries as he held the towel to Danny’s chest.

Sam shifted until their shoulders were pressed together and he leaned slightly into the touch. Neither said anything.

Soon enough, Kon was pulling off the road and the van came to a stop. The instant it did, Jazz was pushing her way into his place, two boxes in her hand. She opened one to reveal a large first aid kit, as well stocked as anything he had in his most-used safe house.

Tim took up a position at the foot of the bench and pulled out a small camera he had in his belt. He took careful pictures of all the visible wounds. Kon came up besides him and put an arm around his shoulder.

Jazz opened the second case, letting out a hiss of cold air and frost. Without hesitating, she put on two heavy duty gloves and lifted out what looked to be an ice cube.

Sam, meanwhile, was measuring out enough glowing green thread to cover Danny’s wound. Tim took another picture.

Jazz placed four ice cubes into the injury—one at the end of each cut and one where the lines intersected. Then Sam laid the thread over the wound. She muttered something and it phased into Danny’s skin without the use of a needle and pulled the injury together.

The glow faded slightly and if he didn’t know better, Tim would’ve thought they were regular stitches.

From there, they focused on cleaning off the remaining blood. The van was mostly silent—Sam and Jazz only communicating the bare minimum necessary to care for Danny. Even Tim’s camera was entirely silent, designed as it was for stealth.

As Danny was wiped clean, more and more injuries were revealed. Only years of bat training kept Tim standing and taking pictures. But his grip on the camera was much tighter than it needed to be. Kon’s fingers were digging into his shoulder almost painfully, but Tim didn’t say anything. Sam and Jazz were forcibly holding themselves together, but the odd hitch in their breath or tremble in their fingers gave them away, too.

A nasty burn spanning Danny’s left side was revealed. Tim clicked the camera, and Sam applied an ectoplasm-based ointment to it. Then Jazz covered the injury with a bandage.

The process was repeated time and again for each injury they discovered. But eventually, all the wounds were tended to. Once Jazz did a final look, she nodded with grim satisfaction.

“Superboy, could you use your powers to wrap his chest?”

“Of course!” Kon left Tim’s side to grab a roll of gauze and took up his own place at Danny’s side. All he had to do, though, was place the roll on the bed and his powers took care of everything else.

Tim wished he could do something half so useful. Next time Danny managed to get to the Realms, he was so joining him and getting his own lessons directly from Frostbite.

“Just one more thing to do,” said Jazz. She reached into the first aid kit and pulled out a small box. Inside sat a syringe filled with ectoplasm. She jammed it into Danny’s thigh and pressed the plunger.

Danny’s eyes flew opened and he let out a yell as his back arched off the bed.

Sam was already hovering over him. “Danny? How are you feeling?”

Danny panted for breath, but looked at her with a wry smile. “Pretty much the worse I’ve ever felt.” He looked from Sam to Jazz to Kon before meeting Tim’s eyes. “You came.”

“I always will,” said Tim.

-----

Please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

I'm not an expert on emergency medicine, so I figured why not go the magical route?

Tim wishes he could help in a more hands-on way, but documenting injuries is important if you want to bring them up in court. No one knows yet if Danny will want that, but this way they have them in case they're necessary.

Tucker, Bart, and Cassie are remaining behind to bring the Fentons to JL holding cells. Tucker is the one who knows the Fenton computers best after Danny, after all.

All ready we can see some major changes from my original version. What else will change? And, more importantly, what will stay the same?

#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #kon el #jazz fenton #sam manson #these poor kids #should not have to deal with situations like this #whatever adult heroes are on duty #when impulse and wonder girl come up #with some trussed up mad scientists #with a bunch of broken bones #crying about illegal experimentation on sapient creatures #are going to regret being on shift #they're not gonna be getting much sleep for the next #...#long while

202 notes · View notes

thatthirdtriplet · 20 days

Text

Relationships:

Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne Tim Drake & Damian Wayne Tim Drake & Jason Todd Tim Drake & Dick Grayson tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain Tim Drake & Duke Thomas Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent Roy Harper/Jason Todd

Characters:

Tim Drake Bruce Wayne Alfred Pennyworth Jason Todd Dick Grayson Barbara Gordon Cassandra Cain Stephanie Brown duke Thomas Damian Wayne

Additional Tags:

Tim Drake is Red Robin Tim Drake Angst Tim Drake's Missing Spleen Damian Wayne is Robin Damian Wayne Has a HeartJason Todd is a Batfamily Member Batfamily is Family Dick Grayson is Nightwing Barbara Gordon Appreciation misunderstandings all relationships are minor Blink And You Miss It Slash I don't care about continuity but I have read a lot of comics so that's the vibe protective Tim Drake miscommunication as a plot device canon-Typical Violence descriptions of Injury creepy Ra's al Ghul scarecrow’s Fear Toxin (DCU) fear gas ruins everything

Summary:

"Wordlessly, and slowly, Bruce takes one breath after another, composing himself. He hands Jason the slightly crumpled sheet of paper. Jason reads it quickly. Quicker than Bruce, but he reads it again and again and again. Finally snapping with panicked urgency, 'What the fuck is this?'

Bruce, completely devoid of any inflection, forces himself to simply state the facts in front of him. 'That is Red Robin’s two week notice.'"

Tim really thought leaving would be a lot easier. Both figuratively and literally.

#tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbra gordon #duke thomas #kon el kent #conner kent #timkon #roy harper #lian harper #Signed Red Robin

58 notes · View notes

waspsarebetterthanbeesanyways · 1 year

Text

Only the Dead 7

part 1

Damian stiffens, eyeing Phantom warily. ‘Prince?’

Phantom gets a foot underneath himself and pushes himself upright, and then into the air. “Fright Knight,” he says.

“My prince,” says the ghost possessing Red Robin. “We feared you’d passed on! It’s been months without word, and even our best trackers were unable to locate you!”

Phantom wraps both arms around his chest. Fright Knight watches the movement closely, frowning at the green blood spreading through Phantom’s jumpsuit. “Mm,” hums Phantom. “The hunters got me.”

“They did to you as what they did to the subsapients they’d captured,” Fright Knight says. It’s not a question, and Phantom stays silent. “I see.” His hands tighten around the grip of his sword. “That is an act of war. King Pariah will doubtlessly order me to slay them all, and I must admit it is a relief to know they have brought it on themselves.”

“Do not,” Phantom hisses. “I am not in accord with Pariah Dark. The people of this city are innocent. I am more to blame than them.”

“No!” Fright Knight barks. “You are a child, not even old enough to assume the throne! No matter your responsibilities, you are not to blame for the actions of evildoers!”

“Yet how many child ghosts has Pariah Dark created today?” Phantom asks.

Fright Knight looks away. “My prince, I have no desire to fight you. But you know my duty. I am enthralled. I cannot disobey King Pariah’s orders.” Fright Knight looks to Jason, hogtied, squirming and helpless. “He is my quarry. Leave now, my prince. I will not tell King Pariah I saw you here today.”

Phantom steps between the bats and Fright Knight. His eyes glow a vivid blue, and a rapier of ice forms in his hand. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then stop me!” Fright Knight lunges.

Phantom parries with a grunt. He glances at Damian from the corner of his eye. “Take Red Hood and go! I’ll hold him off!”

Though his hands are slick with blood and the pain makes tears prick in his eyes, Damian draws his blade. He didn’t become Robin to let an unknown fight his battles for him, and he didn’t become Robin to leave Drake, his brother, for dead. Next to him, Cass raises her fists, batarang in hand. Together, they leap into the fray.

Still sword locked with Phantom, Fright Knight ducks beneath Damian’s swipe. With his free hand, he reaches out to catch Black Bat’s fist, but she deftly twirls around him to land a strong punch to his shoulder, knocking him backwards. He is only barely able to dodge Phantom’s follow up stab.

Fright Knight rapidly slashes at Black Bat. “Don’t let his sword cut you!” Phantom cries. She ducks an overhead swing and nimbly jumps over a low feint.

Damian slinks behind Fright Knight and thrusts an elbow towards his spine. Fright Knight staggers forwards. Black Bat jabs at his throat, and though Tim’s body gasps and wheezes, the Fright Knight is undeterred. He twists inhumanly and strikes Damian in the cheek with a hard backhand.

Phantom leaps in with quick, graceful stabs. The Fright Knight parries them, seemingly without effot. Phantom switches to a wide slash, which the Fright Knight blocks with a forearm, but it was a feint, and Phantom backflips smoothly, coming up with the point of his blade aimed at Red Robin’s throat. Damian’s breath catches, for an instant convinced he is about to see his brother die, but the Fright Knight easily knocks his thrust aside.

“You’ve gotten rusty, my prince,” the Fright Knight says, lashing out with a kick to Phantom’s gut. Phantom goes flying, but he twists in midair to land on his feet.

“I’m a bit out of practice,” Phantom pants.

“Nonetheless, it seems you’ve surrounded yourself with capable allies,” the Fright Knight says. Cass leaps out of the shadows, throwing a batarang. The Fright Knight knocks it away with his sword, but it seems like he’s too slow to block her follow up punch. Before it connects, however, a second, heavily armored arm emerges from within Red Robin’s arm to grab her wrist. Cass’ eyes widen. “Unfortunately, they are no match for me.” He twists her wrist harshly, and Cass screams as it audibly snaps. The Fright Knight then throws her into the slide hard enough to make it collapse. She doesn’t get back up.

Enraged, Damian lunges at the Fright Knight. He easily blocks Damian’s strike with his sword, and then with a twist of his wrist he sends Damian’s blade flying out of his blood slicked hands. With his free hand, he grabs Damian by the throat, and hoists him into the air with strength greather than Red Robin’s body should be capable of. Damian grabs the Fright Knight’s wrist and kicks at Red Robin’s body, but the Fright Knight doesn’t even seem to feel it. Desperately, Damian tries and fails to inhale.

Fright Knight brings his blade up to Damian’s throat. “I apologize, but I must do this.”

“You don’t!” Phantom cries. “He isn’t your target!”

Fright Knight casts a long look at Phantom, then unceremoniously drops Damian. Damian gasps. “You are correct,” he says, turning towards where Jason lays. “It seems I’ve gotten carried away-- ah--“

At the Fright Knight’s stutter, Damian looks at Jason. Cass is there, and Jason is slung over the shoulder of her broken wrist. She pulls out her grapple with her uninjured hand. “Retreat,” she says, and grapples up to the nearest roof. She swiftly disappears into the shadows.

Fright Knight takes a step to follow, but Phantom intercepts him. “Go!” he shouts at Damian. “I’ll catch up!”

Damian grits his teeth. Retreating rankles like nothing else, but Damian is injured and tired, and even if he were at his best the Fright Knight would be a difficult opponent.

“Don’t kill Red Robin,” Damian tells Phantom.

“Of course! What do you take me for?!”

Damian retrieves his blade, turns, and runs.

_____

@coruscateselene @somecrappyclone @quirky-gardener @undead-essence @gin2212 @the-archer-goddess @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @krzys2000 @thegreawizards @luckykittens198 @violently-lovely @wackyattack @0j-9 @darkhinauniverse @just-for-dpxdc @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @fisticuffsatapplebees @ saltyladynightmare @all-mights-asscheeks @icedbluesoul

#im glad to tag anyone who asks #and if you don't want to be tagged anymore please tell me #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #only the dead au

204 notes · View notes

a-gil-rebel · 8 months

Text

Precision Cuts on AO3

Danny didn't know where to go at first. Sam and Tucker could only give him so much advice, so many supplies. He rubbed his thumb on the soft carpet of Sam's basement, an attempt at calming his nerves as Tucker double checked the backpack they made for him.

"Are you going to be okay all by yourself?"

"He doesn't have a choice Sam, we're too recognizable if we go with him. His parents will know where he is."

Tucker was right. He could avoid cameras, cover his face, hell, he could be invisible if he needed. But more people meant more people being looked for. At worst, a nationwide "kidnapping" scandal, and more reason for bringing him harm. He smiled, a confident bravado he was sure didn't look as hopeful as he liked.

"I'll be fine guys. I kept myself out of trouble before, I can do it again. If anything I can lay low in the Ghost Zone after I've recovered a bit."

Sam wrapped him a hug, loosening up at the sharp breath of pain that escaped. Tucker joined after a second, and it took all of Danny's remaining strength not to break down. Instead, he made sure to smile when the embrace broke. For himself or them, he wasn't sure yet.

"Tell Jazz I said goodbye, and thank you, and to be safe. I'll talk to you guys real soon okay." Danny's voice shook, and he knew he was stalling. But with sirens growing closer, he hoisted the backpack on his shoulders, feeling stiff. Some ghosts had volunteered to cause a distraction on the far side of town, but by the sound of things they must have already scattered than be caught like him.

Valarie was waiting out back. For all the times they butt heads, she couldn't help but stay silent as she got him out of town as quickly as he could.

"Be safe, ghost boy." Was the last thing Danny heard before leaving Amity Park for good.

---

The building he was squatting in for the foreseeable future had a few other 'tenants'.

"The landlord spent years making the living conditions bad enough to force us low income families out. Then bankrupted the building and bought a new one..."

In a more profitable side of town of course. They couldn't afford to move, so they just waited out the demolition the city wasn't willing to pay for, and moved back in as squatters like him. As he looked at the almost two year old in her mothers arms, he couldn't help but feel no one should have to live like this.

But what could he do? He hated how helpless he felt like this, hated hiding. Dana had been quick to invite him in when she found him nodding off in an alleyway on his first night in the city. She stuck up for him against some of the more untrusting squatters in the building, she had a good heart. She was a good mother.

Danny was lucky enough to not need to eat very often, so any food he get from handouts or shelters went straight to them and a few others in the building. He tried not to be too familiar, but they seemed nice enough for a city so ridden with crime.

But then, thats why he chose Gotham. A city full of oddballs, and just as full of vigilantes. He knew he'd be able to disappear in the crowd, and not worry about being anyone's hero. Still, he was surprised how hard it was to stay away from the crime.

If he tried to grab a snack from a convenience store, a trio of robbers-slash-kidnappers showed up to raz a Prince of Gotham, Tim Drake, only to be begrudgingly rescued by Red Hood. If he snuck into a movie for a little relaxation, Scarecrow pumped the theatre full of fear gas.

Actually, that one wasn't all bad. Apparently whatever is in that smoke was very nice to ghosts, and it was the most relaxed Danny had felt all week, even sitting invisible in the midst of the chaos as Red Robin and Orphan handled the situation.

The worst part about the constant crime was the fact his ghost sense could recognize people. Like how Red Robin was actually Tim. His senses cleared the second the gas was flushed out, and he recognized the soul he'd seen earlier in the week.

Groaning at the newfound knowledge, he walked undetected beyond the sudden chill in the air through to the walls of the theatre the same way he came, and headed home.

Using his powers drained him these days without a constant source of ecto, and his healing was still dragging its feet. Sam and Tucker had sent him with a thermos of the stuff they had salvaged from a few friendly denizens, which he was rationing out to himself un-optimistically. They'd take the time to scratch off his parents logo, which he was grateful for. Rubbing the scar on his face absentmindedly, Danny headed to his new 'home', trying to avoid any more excitement for the day.

---

Luckily for Danny, the only thing that stopped him getting home today was in the window of a jester-themed-toyshop. A $300, digital recording telescope. Mind rushing with ideas for plotting out a star map of the sky above Gotham, or recording the upcoming eclipse. His heart never stop wanting to learn about the stars, space, and the science of it all. He didn't have the cash but, well, when in Rome.

Danny stepped off the main street to wait till the shop closed, wrestling for a short while over exactly how ethical it really was. In the end, his need for hope, joy and downright whimsy overruled any guilt. He reasoned the store probably paid its employees poverty wages, considering it seemed to be a local chain.

It was always dark enough in Gotham to be night, something he hadn't been able to wrap his head around. Still, as night settled on the city and the shop clerk locked up, Danny made his way into the toyshop.

Reaching out his electrical 'field' to mess with nearby electronics, he picked his way through the store. He took his time, picking up items here and there, reminiscing about the childhood he never really had. Most of the family money went to his parents' projects, and occasionally food and clothing. Why spend it on toys for children when all the fun in the world could be had helping your parents go mad?

He was grateful in some ways to how he was raised, it drove his mind to be always looking and turning things around for answers, and his love for the sciences. But as he shuddered passing over a game of operation, he couldn't bring himself to feel remorse for escaping it all.

Focusing on the task at hand, he moved to the front window and hoisted the large telescope into his arms before turning it invisible as well. Walking a few blocks before switching back, Danny headed home, his heart filled with hope, if not a little guilt over lifting the item. He spent the night setting up his new find.

"If you're worried about the local night crew, don't."

Danny turned his head a bit quick at the woman standing in his doorway. It was Dana, up late over a fussy toddler. Danny relaxed and smiled as little Honey immediately ran over to the boxes, deciding it was the most imaginative toy possible. He couldn't help the warmth in his chest watching the child who doesn't yet know how much of life she's missing. Turning back to Dana, he asked, "Night crew?"

"The vigilantes." She nods out the window, and Danny caught a glimpse of two shadows dashing into town across the rooftops. "They aren't cops, sure. But that's a good thing in this city. They do their best to keep us safe from the worst of what Gotham offers. They aren't perfect, obviously." She gestures to the state she's been forced to live in.

"Is it true they don't have any powers?" Dana nodded.

"Yeah, I'm not sure if its a real law against Metas in Gotham, or if they just don't want to deal with the mess that is this city." She laughed, tired, and shook her head. "Even without powers, they look out for us. Especially that Red Hood, he stands up for the little guys like us against common thugs and wannabe villains."

Danny nodded in understanding, glad they seemed to have more than enough hands to hold the city together, the guilt in not being anyone's hero lifting off his shoulders.

Brought out of his thoughts at the feeling of cardboard smacking his knee, he found Baby Honey drooling on a piece of cardboard. She was pretending to be some kind of.... horse? Maybe a dog? Either way, before Dana could apologize and pull her back, he played along, slowly and dramatically falling over to his death.

Honey thought it the most hilarious thing she'd seen in her many years, squealing and blabbing about bringing him back to life. Which consisted of her punching Danny in the chest. He winced even at her tiny toddler fists, and Dana was quick to pull her away to put her to bed, apologizing.

Rubbing the scars through his shirt, Danny looked through the telescope to try to wind down as they left him be for the night.

"Dammit... is it always going to be this foggy?" He hadn't had any luck getting the telescope to see past the thick clouds, or maybe smog, that clung to the city. Giving up for the night, he curled up on his side facing the window, hope mixing with the sorrow in his chest.

---

Far away, in an unfamiliar cave underneath an unfamiliar mansion, an alarm goes off at the sudden loss of cameras in a neighborhood downtown. Whether anyone heard it before they restarted, is a question Danny wasn't even thinking about asking.

#dpxdc #Yall gave so much love to the last one I had to try my hand at an original #let me know how you think this will go #i have a few chapters planned so keep an eye out #Precision Cuts

80 notes · View notes

ktkat99 · 10 months

Text

Tim Drake had scissors and no supervision.

Bruce didn't notice until it was too late.

He was too focused on the fact that Jason was alive.

He was too focused on the fact that Jason was home.

He didn't realize that Tim was busy cutting ties with everyone and everything at the manor until it was too late.

It started small, just going solo more and more often for patrols and missions.

And then skipped family dinners.

He'd bandage himself up at his house rather than the cave.

This one was concerning and the thing that finally drew Bruce's attention to the fact that Tim was withdrawing.

A few self-done stitches were things they all had, but one night he and Red Robin teamed up against Scarecrow.

Red Robin was slower than typical. Not by much, but enough that Batman noticed.

His movements were slower. Stamina decreased.

He'd been training on his own.

When had he stopped training with them?

"Two goons went this way. Scarecrow circled around back." Red Robin pointed down two different paths formed by shipping containers. He was already running after the pair of goons, so Batman took off after Scarecrow.

The scientist led him on a chase, but was no match for Batman in the end.

A few minutes later, he got confirmation from Red Robin that he'd taken out his targets.

They handed off the crooks over to the GCPD without problem and headed back to the cave.

Batman dictated the details of the arrest to Dick, who entered the information into the computer, while Alfred stitched up gash on his arm.

Tim, meanwhile, changed back into his civilian clothes and headed up to the manor, claiming to be hungry.

Batman nodded, continuing his recounting of the night's events. "Come back down after you get something to eat. You still need to give your report."

Tim nodded, pausing slightly at the base of the stairs. And then he left.

Not just the cave, but the manor as well.

Bruce didn't notice at first, but eventually went up to the kitchen to retrieve him, already planning a lecture about the importance of doing their after-mission reports.

Jason was alone in the kitchen, absently chopping vegetables beside a simmering pot while an audiobook played softly over his laptop's speaker.

"Where's Tim?"

Jason looked up and nodded to the front door. "Went home. Why?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "He went home?"

Jason shrugged, still chopping. "Yeah. Did something happen? He looked kinda freaked."

That was all Bruce needed to hear.

He headed for the door and made his way to Drake Manor.

The front door was wide open.

Bruce's heart dropped.

He entered and looked around, silently closing the door behind himself.

There was blood on the floor.

Just a drop, but it was enough to tell him which way Tim went.

He followed the droplets through the house.

Up the stairs.

Down the hall.

Past his bedroom.

Into a sitting room at the end of the hall.

Every light in the house was off, but the curtains to one of the windows were pulled back.

He could see Wayne manor through Alfred's topiary.

And, slightly glowing in the soft moonlight, the still form of Tim was flopped limply in the window seat.

Bruce hurried over and knelt beside him, gently brushing his hair out of his face.

Tim was pale.

He was shaking, muscles trembling, breaths coming out in small gasps.

The front of his shirt was soaked with blood.

Bruce cursed and slipped his arms behind Tim's shoulders and under his knees, lifting him carefully.

His head lolled loosely, resting against Bruce's shoulder. Bruce carried him out of the room and quickly to his bedroom.

"Tim. Wake up."

Tim's body continued to tremble, and he let out a choked whimper.

"Can you hear me? Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

Tim's eyes cracked open as he was being lowered to lay on the mattress. Bruce grabbed a nearby shirt and balled it up, pulling up Tim's shirt to press it to the slash going across his abdomen. It was only about three inches long, but still open and seeping.

"Where's your first aid kit?"

Tim didn't answer.

He didn't move.

Bruce looked back at his face and paused.

Oh, no.

He cursed under his breath and took one hand away from the shirt to grab his phone, hitting Dick's speed dial.

"Get a fear toxin antidote and bring it over to Tim's house. We're in his bedroom. He also needs stitches."

"I'll be right there." Dick replied quickly.

Bruce hung up and returned his phone to his pocket.

Tim's eyes were wide and glassy. He was frozen, each quick breath coming out with a terrified squeak.

Bruce grit his teeth and focused on just stemming the flow of blood.

Tim's eyes flickered around, though he didn't seem to notice that anyone else was in the room with him.

Bruce had dealt with Scarecrow enough times to know that Tim was too out of it for any words of comfort to have any effect. Whatever Tim was seeing, he was on his own until Dick arrived with the antidote.

Bruce shifted his weight slightly and Tim squeezed his eyes shut, hissing in pain.

"Sorry. Sorry. Dick will be here soon."

Tim huffed out a short, bitter laugh, and brought his hands up to his head, pressing his palms to his eyes.

"Not real." He murmured to himself, coughing. "Not real. Not real. Not real."

Over and over.

Bruce gently grabbed one of his hands and tried to pull it away from his face, but as soon as he made contact, Tim reacted violently.

He gasped and smacked the hand away, trying to push himself up.

His eyes once again landed on Bruce, but this time they didn't look through him.

The instant he saw him, he kicked Bruce off, only to fall back with a strangled cry when he stressed his still open wound.

"You're okay. It's just me, Tim. Let me help." Bruce, who had stepped back to give the teen space, sat back on the bed and tried to press the shirt back to the cut.

Tim clenched his hands, opening and closing them like he tended to do when he was stressed.

"Not real." He ground out.

Tim's eyes were wide again, staring blankly right up at the ceiling.

"Not real. Not real. Not real."

Like a mantra, he whispered it over and over again, voice shaking thanks to the tremors still wracking his body.

"Not real."

Bruce thought back to patrol. Tim had to have known he'd been injured. He had to have known he'd been dosed.

Why hadn't he said anything?

"Not real."

Why hadn't he stayed at the cave?

"Not real."

Had… had he left while injured before?

"N-not real." Tim's voice broke. Tears welled in his eyes.

How many times?

How many times had he been hurt or dosed and just left to deal with it on his own?

"You're not real."

Bruce looked back at Tim's face, surprised to make eye contact.

Tim looked scared out of his mind. Tear tracks ran down his cheeks.

"Who are you?"

"It's Bruce, Tim. It's me. I'm real."

Tim started to struggle again, hands grabbing Bruce's, trying to push him away.

"Stop." Bruce pushed his hands back. "Tim, stop."

"Not real. You're not real."

"Tim, I'm real. I'm here. Let me help."

Tim shook his head, switching to trying to drag himself away. "Not real."

"Tim, you need help. Let me help."

Tim coughed again, this time falling into a coughing fit.

His hands gripped the blanket he was lying on top of, fingers twisting into the material.

Bruce moved closer and slipped an arm under his back, hoisting him up into a seated position.

"Just breathe. In and out. That's it-,"

Tim gasped and drove his elbow into Bruce's side, scrambling back until he hit the wall. He yelped and clutched his gash, collapsing on his side.

"Tim. Let me help you. Please."

Tim's eyes were screwed shut in pain, but he opened them and pressed himself against the wall, throwing a wild punch when Bruce got too close.

"Who are you?!"

"Tim, please-,"

"Get away from me!"

"Calm down! You're hurting yourself!" Bruce tried to pin down Tim by the shoulders, but that just resulted in Tim thrashing wildly and screaming.

Bruce let him go and stepped back giving him space, and, once again, Tim flattened himself against the wall.

He gasped and sobbed in fear, staring wide-eyed at Bruce.

"Tim, buddy, please." Bruce held up his hands to show that he meant no harm. "You're bleeding. Let me help."

"Not real. Not real."

"I'm real. I'm real. Tim, I'm real."

Tim's voice faded slightly, though he kept up his mantra like Bruce hadn't even spoken. He'd grown more pale, and his hands were opening and closing slower.

"You're still bleeding. Tim, you've lost a lot of blood."

Tim shook his head, eyelids only opening about halfway. "You're not real."

"I am."

Tim shook his head again. "Not real. You're never real."

"Tim, I am real. And you need help. Let me help you."

"No. Y-you're not real."

Bruce leaned in closer, and Tim pushed himself back into the wall again, burying his face in the blankets in fear when he realized he had nowhere to go.

"I'm real-,”

"You're never real!" Tim shouted. "You've never been real." He broke off into sobs, body shaking. "... Why can't you be real..?" He choked out.

Bruce's heart broke. "Timmy, I'm real. I'm real. Why do you think I'm not real?" It was so hard to not reach out to comfort him.

"You're never real. Cause… cause I'm not real. Not really."

Tim was just mumbling to himself at this point. Bruce wasn't sure he was even aware that there was anyone else in the room.

"You made it clear. Not real. I'm… I'm not allowed to be real. Just a stand in. Just a stand in."

Bruce felt his stomach clench.

"Not… not one of yours."

He reached out a hand, stopping just before he made contact with Tim.

"Why… would you be here..?" Tim's voice was fading again.

"Tim…"

"Played my part." Tim drew in a shaking breath. "Did my job."

"Tim, can you hear me?"

"Not… not needed anymore."

"Of course you are."

Tim shook his head. "Y' got… family back t'gether." He coughed, eyes going glassy.

"You're part of that family, too."

Tim exhaled softly. "U-used to… hope. Pretend." He shook his head. "Stupid."

Bruce heard the front door slam and running footsteps. Dick appeared in the doorway, carrying a medical bag.

"How is he?"

Bruce was frozen.

Tim was unconscious.

He was still shaking.

All Bruce could do was stand and move out of the way so Dick could inject him with the antidote.

Tim had hallucinated him before, hadn't he?

He'd had to wake up to the realization that Bruce helping him had just all been in his head.

But… Tim knew he was part of the family, right?

His fears… his reaction… that had just been fear toxin, right?

"Timmy, if you can hear me, I need to roll you over, okay?" Dick held his brother's hand, checking his pulse.

But… he'd been pulling away lately.

He'd been distancing himself.

'Played my part. Did my job.'

Words, his own this time, suddenly came back to him, like unlocking a memory.

'Don't you forget your place here! Don't think you can get cocky or comfortable. You have no place to tell me what's best for me. You are here to do a job, and that's it. You may be Robin, but that doesn't make you my son.'

Bruce closed his eyes and sank down to sit, leaning back against the bed.

He felt sick.

He knew he hadn't been the best man after Jason's funeral, but he…

He hadn't wanted Tim to get too close.

Because…

Because he'd made that mistake before.

He'd let Jason get too close, and it had nearly killed him when that boy had died.

He couldn't go through that again.

He couldn't risk another kid like that.

But he realized now.

Tom may have been cutting his ties, distancing himself, now that Jason was back.

But he was sawing away at ties that Bruce had already started on.

#batman #tim drake #dick grayson #red robin #batfam #nightwing #bruce wayne #twoweeksofwhump #twow #tim drake whump

109 notes · View notes

tiger-in-the-flightdeck · 7 months

Note

Hii! Can i get a Tim drake uh, treat? first time doin one of these so yeah, thank youu!

Hello! I hope you enjoy this!

Read here, or on AO3

After hours of work, he was finally able to turn off the computer and step away.

Hours? If he were honest with himself, it had been days that he had been working without any real break. This was nothing new, especially since leaving the Manor and setting up his Nest in the middle of Crime Alley. With no one to loom over him, he could get lost in his task and not come up for air until he was finished.

As he stood, Tim’s back cracked and popped, and his knees trembled, not used to the movement after being folded under him since daybreak.

He was used to ignoring his body’s demands. When he had still been growing -something that to his utter disappointment had stopped several years ago, topping him out at five foot almost six- he hadn’t noticed it as it happened until he would put on an old pair of jeans and find that cuffs showed an extra inch of ankle. He didn’t listen to the rumbling of his stomach until he got lightheaded and someone more responsible shoved a sandwich in his mouth.

Creaking with each step but gradually standing straighter as he went, Tim made his way to the master bathroom where he ran himself a hot bath to soak away the stiffness. As he went, he shed his clothes, marking a path from his desk, up the stairs and down the hall.

Each discarded item exposed the marks on his body that he often forgot about as well. Not for any kind of self neglect, but simply because it was easier for him to compartmentalise and tuck those little bits of damage away to be dealt with later. Later just rarely came.

On his belly, the jagged wound from a sword that had run him through while he had been searching for his father. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he believed Ra’s when he said that he had survived the surgery and that he hadn’t been dipped in the Pit. It would explain a lot. How he had survived everything else he had faced since, for one. The dark thoughts that often swirled in his mind for another.

He sank into the tub and let the steaming water come to his chin as he closed his eyes and ran his fingers over his body, cataloguing other marks.

The still red slash down his forearm he had sustained from the blade of his future self, delight in his eyes when he saw that it formed on him as well, telling him that there was still a chance that he wouldn’t turn into the monster he was. He had to wear long sleeves now, to save himself from pitying, misunderstanding looks. No real hardship in Gotham, where the sun shone an average of twelve hours a year and there was a damp chill in the air more often than not.

His fingers slid delicately over his throat where the doctors hadn’t quite been able to conceal the scar where one of Penguin’s goons had put a bullet through him. It was mostly covered with the Robin suit, and he wore scarves now when he was in public. Stylish, cool, and stopped any questions from paparazzi.

On his thigh, four parallel lines scored across the skin just above his knee where his first attempt at shaving his legs had gone awry, and Caroline Hill became a waxer instead of a shaver when she went out in short skirts and high heels to spy on targets at a bar. No one ever noticed that she only drank mineral water, and just pretended to sip at the drinks that were sent her way, her crimson lipstick never smudging on the glass. Tim had learned to run in five inch Louboutin So Kate pumps that summer and so far it was a skill that none of his siblings could master. After he had gotten used to the leers and found his new centre of balance while sporting a full bra, there was something about Caroline that boosted his confidence. She was fun, and sweet, and liked to dance, and when she bent over to pick up a dropped pen, all eyes were on her ass. So different from Tim, the reserved and awkward and gangly.

Tim laughed softly, the sound echoing off the walls of his bathroom as the memories of crowded dance clubs came to him and his prick twitched and waved for attention through the soap bubbles sitting on the surface of the water. The last time he had been dancing, strangers had pressed in close, holding his hips and pressing their knees between his own. Pinned between two men he had felt relaxed and carefree, even as he kept a careful eye on his target at the other end of the bar.

He had gone home alone that night, and he was beginning to wonder if he should have given in.

The way his cock throbbed with want, he realised he had been neglecting other needs as well.

And he was so bad at taking care of himself, he needed someone else to do it for him.

#trick or treat #tim drake #red robin #caroline hill

13 notes · View notes

iambatmuppet · 8 months

Text

i'm somewhat new to (sharing my) writing but here's an excerpt from one of my newest wips!

CONTEXT: this is set in the Young Justice Comic (New Earth/Pre-52) universe, though RR’s costume is from the new 52 bc no cowl duh!! featuring BAMF Tim Drake AKA Red Robin, and also BAMF super sweet boyfriend Kon

-----

Red Robin stands alone, suit all but shredded and hanging off of him, surrounded by bodies. The grainy camera feed combined with the dim lighting of the cage isn’t enough to see the look on his face but the blood running in rivets down from his forehead is obvious; he doesn’t even flinch as it drips into his eyes, a peek of his tongue momentarily flicking some more of the red liquid from his lips.

Shit.

They all watch as his chest heaves, head bowed as blood streams onto the floor beneath him. Kon ignores the echoing sounds of the loud keycaps in favour of staring at Rob's face.

“Got another angle!”

The view switches, focused on Tim’s side profile as he stares blankly ahead, lips pressed firmly together and jaw clenched. The blood on his forehead is seeping from a slash above his eyebrow, and more is coming from a broken nose and a split lip, although his nose has obviously been set so it must not be from this fight.

There’s a tinny noise in the background, like from a low-quality speaker, but even with his hearing it’s unintelligible. Through his mangled domino, Tim’s eyes harden as he looks up, glaring out into the crowd. His mouth starts moving, tendons in his neck flexing as if he’s yelling but Kon can’t hear anything outside of just a faint murmur.

“What’s with the sound?” Dick clacks away, murmuring to himself, but nothing comes of it. He relays that the BatComputer’s audio features are all fully functional, so the issue isn’t something to be resolved on their end.

Kon wants to scream, to throw something, but he knows with his anger where it is right now, it isn’t safe to do anything surrounded by humans like he is, bat-clad heroes or not.

He pushes off the desk where he was hunched over a screen – watching pain flicker across Tim’s face before he closes himself off, eyes cold – and stalks across the room, bracing a hand on the wall, the cool stone distracting him from the current situation.

He can’t help but attempt to listen in for Tim’s heartbeat again and again, but there’s nothing; no steady thumps, no flighty jumps in fear, nothing. It’s like the volume dial has been turned all the way down.

“Kon? You should see this.”

He turns back towards the screens and freezes. Tim is flying across the ring, all spinning kicks and hard punches before he takes down his opponent with a sweeping throw – a move that Artemis was still trying to successfully replicate whenever they sparred at the Justice Cave – and launches him into the chain-link fencing that separates the fighters from the audience.

He … Kon knew that Rob was an amazing fighter, deft and dexterous, all concussive kicks and fast jabs when faced with combat sans his trusty bō, but this … Kon had never seen him fight like this, like there was no one watching over his shoulder, in his ear, critiquing his every move. Like he was finally out of his own head and just letting go, trusting in his instincts; like it was as easy as breathing.

From the current angle spanning the ring, they sit silent as Tim creeps forward, keeping an eye on the man crumpled on the ground for movement, swiftly knocking him out with a hard punch to the nose when he stirs. He looks relaxed, casual as if he didn’t just dominate a fight against a man thrice his size but the tension in his jaw, straining the muscles in his neck and shoulders, speaks for itself.

Kon wishes his x-ray vision worked through cameras because the way Rob favours his right side, both torso and arm, means there’s obviously an underlying injury – one he can’t fully see, minus the select few showing through the tears in Tim’s suit.

His previously-dislocated shoulder, only a month healed, must be acting up from however long he’s been forced to fight; he’s been missing for 4 days, not including the half-day where no one had realized he was even missing yet, and Kon can only guess how … busy they’ve kept him, based on the cuts and bruises in various stages of healing.

Let me know what you think!!! :D

#batman fanfiction #fanfic wip #timkon #tim drake #red robin #conner kent #superboy #batfam #the batmuppet strikes again #i love writing but its SO HARDDD #UGH #anyways #hope you enjoyed :))))

13 notes · View notes