tim drops a glass and spirals.
Tim is just trying to drink some water. Hydrate or die-drate, as Steph has taken to reminding him. But he must have moved too fast, or his lack of sleep must have caught up to him, because the next thing he knew, the glass had slipped out of his hands and smashed into pieces on the kitchen tiles.
Tim hears the sound as if there was an audio delay. A ringing had started in his ears, but nothing is louder than the sudden pounding of his heartbeat. He keeps hearing the echo of the glass smashing, and something in him is screaming useless apologies. It takes him a moment to realize he's having trouble breathing.
Oh, he thinks. I'm having a panic attack.
Out the corner of his eye, he sees Kon rush into the kitchen. He was choosing a movie, Tim recalls absently. He always takes too long flipping through the categories, only to make Tim choose in the end.
"Rob? Hey," Kon is saying. He has his hands outstretched, but he stops an arm's length away.
Tim's fingers are clenched tight around the edge of the counter. He unlatches one, reaching out. When Kon steps forwards again, Tim clutches at Kon's shirt, right over his heart. He tries to copy Kon's breathing. Kon, the lovely specimen that he is, takes exaggerated breaths and counts aloud for him. They're doing one of the grounding exercises from training -- because PTSD is practically a requirement for capes by this point.
It's not working.
Tim gasps, head low and tears in his eyes. "B," he says. "I can't--"
"Okay, okay," Kon says. "Hold on."
When he makes to step away, Tim grasps his shirt tighter. He knows it's not rational, Kon's probably just trying to get his phone, but he can't make himself let go. He squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to get his breathing under control.
Distantly, he hears Kon's voice. "Mr. Wayne," Kon says, in the voice he uses when he's nervous but trying to hide it. "Sorry to bother you, but uh. How fast can you make it to Tim's apartment? Or I can fly him to you, if it's faster."
Tim stares at the glass pieces by his foot. They're kind of pretty. Like ruined things are, something you can never take back, only sit alone in a too-big mansion wondering where you went wrong.
"He's here, he's fine--um, physically fine. He's having a panic attack, I think, and uh--I think he'd like to see you--Oh, fifteen minutes, okay..."
He doesn't know how long he stands there, Kon's TTK holding him up. Then Bruce is there, and Kon is easing his fingers off his shirt.
Bruce is dressed in an immaculate suit, the kind he wears for the office. His face, though, was all Batman. Tim can't stop the flinch when he meets those stern eyes. They soften immediately.
"Tim," Bruce says, and Tim sucks in a breath. Bruce doesn't have a nickname for him, but like chum for Dick, or Jaylad, or how he calls Damian son. But Bruce will call his name like this sometimes, quiet, warm. Something that Tim holds carefully in the corner of his mind.
"B," Tim manages. He rips his hand off the counter. It hurts his nails. His legs are shaking.
"I'm right here," Bruce says, and it's not fair how easily he projects calm and commands all of Tim's attention. He holds out a hand, keeping eye contact. "I'm not going anywhere. Conner's in the other room. You're safe."
"I know," Tim says. He gulps in more air. Forces himself to hold it, breathe out. Without meaning to, his hand finds Bruce's. He holds it in a deathgrip. Bruce doesn't complain. "I just. I dropped the glass."
Bruce nods. He barely casts a glance over to the wreckage. "It's okay. We can clean it up later. No one is hurt."
"I didn't mean to," whispers Tim.
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for."
"Okay."
Bruce squeezes Tim's hand. "Would you like Conner to sit with you while I clean up the glass, or would you like me to sit with you?"
Tim reaches up to wipe at his eyes. "I can... I should clean it up. It's my mess."
"That's not one of the options, Tim."
"... You."
"Okay," says Bruce. He leads them both into the living room. Kon takes one look at them and disappears back into the kitchen.
They sit on the couch. Feeling exhausted and wrung-dry, Tim leans into Bruce's shoulder. His solidness is familiar. Safe. There's a part of Tim that is still cowering on the kitchen floor, bleeding and shivering at the memory of sharp nails and sharper reprimands. But he's miles away from the lonely ten year old who thought love was something to be earned. He's better now.
By the time Conner returns, perching awkwardly in the armchair, Bruce has put on a documentary. It's about the desert. Tim sinks further into the couch. He breathes.
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children of húrin fandom what is up with gelmir
because he died at the start of the nirnaeth arnoeidad right and that lead to gwindor being enslaved in angband, and he's then saved by beleg and he goes back to nargothrond with túrin. that's what happens right. but gelmir is dead as hell
why does gelmir show back up in nargothrond bringing scary news from ulmo?? like i thought this "gelmir" was like a disguised spy or something, and i think that was implied by gelmir and his buddy having such a weird contradictory travel route right (saying they came from cirdan in the south but arrive from the north) (north is also where angband is,,,) and they were bringing fake news from morgoth to ruin túrins life again
but then their warnings turn out to be true?? like damn. you should've listened to them túrin and broken the bridge, now everyone is dead and it's lowkey ur fault
are they evil are they good. why is gelmir alive again or is he still dead actually. pls elaborate tolkien i've zoomed in on this specific detail and i can't zoom out until i know
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Across the tent, Rhaegal unfolded green wings to flap and flutter a half foot before thumping to the carpet. When he landed, his tail lashed back and forth in fury, and he raised his head and screamed. If I had wings, I would want to fly too, Dany thought. The Targaryens of old had ridden upon dragonback when they went to war. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, to straddle a dragon’s neck and soar high into the air. It would be like standing on a mountaintop, only better. The whole world would be spread out below. If I flew high enough, I could even see the Seven Kingdoms, and reach up and touch the comet.
Daenerys I, A CLASH OF KINGS
As Arya crossed the yard to the bathhouse, she spied a raven circling down toward the rookery, and wondered where it had come from and what message it carried. Might be it’s from Robb, come to say it wasn’t true about Bran and Rickon. She chewed on her lip, hoping. If I had wings I could fly back to Winterfell and see for myself. And if it was true, I’d just fly away, fly up past the moon and the shining stars, and see all the things in Old Nan’s stories, dragons and sea monsters and the Titan of Braavos, and maybe I wouldn’t ever fly back unless I wanted to.
Arya X, A CLASH OF KINGS
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Inescapable
***Spoilers for book 7***
I thought for all that you taught me
I thought you’d follow it through
I thought you alone had strength to stand
Against whatever fate commands.
.
I thought it meant something to you
Since it had meant so much to me
That out my shell I saw your face
And from that day you’ve been my fate.
.
I thought you would never change
Just as stars would stay the same.
Never near but always bright
Show me the path and broaden my sight.
.
You held me like a mother would
And taught what father never could
It’s thanks to your guidance that I grew
I thought it meant something to you.
.
But I have not grown in your eyes
You still deceive me with such lies
Do you not have trust in me
As I trust you, my family?
.
Why have you never spoken
Until all we have is broken?
Why must you always keep so clear
Away from those who hold you dear?
.
But your child has grown, the seeds are sown.
You will not face your fate alone.
And I will not be left behind.
You are family, fates intertwine.
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