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the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 13 days

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Just A Kid Next Door - Chapter 5

Bruce is finally back from being stuck in the time stream. Tim managed to save Batman and his loved ones. Now it is time for Tim to go home and rest. But the problem is that, Tim has no home. Or that's what he thinks so.

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 5---------------------------------

Dick couldn’t help but let his thought wander as he drove through the streets of Gotham, to the Manor. He glanced at Damian who was sitting in the passenger seat of the BatMobile, lost in his own thoughts while sporting a scowl.

Richard Grayson was Seven years old when he had his first nightmare.

That night, he dreamt about gross-looking, purple colored alien, using its power to set Zitka on fire. He screamed and screamed, screamed for help, but the alien only laughed.

When he woke up, all sweaty and tired, his mother was there, hugging him tightly and whispering sweet nothings. She was running her finger through his tangled hair while the other hand was holding his head closely to her chest. Her actions were soothing him.

Then his father came, holding out to him a glass of milk, with an encouraging smile.

That night, he slept peacefully, clinging to his mother and father.

The BatMobile came to a stop having come to the BatCave. Dick got out of the vehicle as fast as he could and made his way to the Med Bay. He saw Alfred standing in near the entrance, his expression a mixture of surprise and relief.

Relief.

Dick is relived too.

The next morning when he woke up, he was still scared about the previous night's dream. Hence after practicing his first routine for that day, his mother took him to a park and they both sat under a tree.

After few minutes of comfortable silence, his mother took out two colored papers out from her purse and handed one to Dick and kept one for herself.

“Dragă, when I was a child, just like you, I used have many bad dreams too. Then my Papi taught me how to make these beautiful paper crafts as a distraction. My Papi was great at it.

She let out a long sigh, thinking about Dick’s late grandfather.

“So whenever I used to have those dreams, we both would make many beautiful crafts like this together. It helped me to focus on other things and forget about those awful dreams.”

She turned and looked at him, her eyes shining, just like the sequins on their Leotards that they wear for the shows.

“I think it’s time for me to pass on that tradition to you, my copil.

That day, he made his first ever origami with his mother, a ‘Robin’.

From that day, every time Dick had nightmares, he and his mother would make various colourful origami which would ease all of his worries.

“Dr. Leslie Thompkins is checking upon Master Bruce, Master Dick. She forbade anyone from entering. I suggest you to be at ease, until then.” Alfred commented.

Dick couldn’t do anything but nod.

He removed his cowl, letting out a huge sigh as he took a seat in one of the chairs. Damian was carefully noting all of the young Batman’s moves.

Richard Grayson was eight years old when he lost his parents due to a fatal accident, which he later discovered to be a murder.

Richard Grayson was eight years old when he became an orphan.

Richard Grayson was eight years old, when his whole world was ripped away from him.

But Dick was also eight years old, when he was adopted by Bruce Wayne as his legal ward.

Dick’s thoughts were interrupted when Dr. Leslie exiting from the medical room.

“Just some mild cuts and bruises here and there. But all in all, I’d say he is doing great. And I’ve put him under mild pain medication, so it would probably take some time for him to wake up.” Dr, Leslie said, packing her equipment.

“And by the way, you could see him now.”

Dick slowly made his way to the medical room, and was greeted by the sight of Bruce’s sleeping form. He saw Damian make his way to one side of the bed, taking one of Bruce’s hand in his. Even having spent quite some time with Damian now, he was still unable to read the young boy’s expression.

The room was completely silent.

Dick took small steps towards the other side of the bed, while eyeing Bruce carefully. Bruce looked sickly pale, his body had lost some muscles which made him look gaunt.

But dick also noticed that Bruce’s face was calm. His face looked unusually calm.

Dick took his seat on a small chair next to Bruce and took his other hand in his. He vaguely noticed Alfred wiping his tears.

It took him a minute to realize that he was crying too.

Dick was nine years old when he had his first nightmare in the Manor. He had dreamt about his parents falling off their trapeze, he saw the rope breaking, saw his parent’s smile turning into a scared expression, saw his parents fall. And he wasn’t able to do anything but cry.

It had just been few days since his adoption. But this time, his mother was not there to provide him comfort or his father, to give him a glass of milk. His mother was not there to help him make his origami figurines.

He got up from his bed and made his way to where he kept his school bag. He took out a few colored sheets and made his way to the kitchen.

He switched on the lights and took his seat in the dining area.

He tried to make a Robin origami this time, but all he did was cry and cry, cry until the coloured paper was wet due to his tears.

But he failed to notice a shadowy figure make its way towards him.

Bruce took a seat next to Dick, who was shaking, seemingly have not noticed the older man’s presence.

Bruce took one of his hands in his, which made Dick turn towards the older man, his eyes bloodshot and wide.

Then Dick crashed onto Bruce that night. He cried and cried, cried until he fell to a deep slumber. Bruce did nothing other that hold the shaking kid in his arms, praying that this would pass. Praying that his kid could recover from the trauma. Praying that he would not turn out to be like him.

The next morning when Dick woke up, he was surprised to see himself on his bed.

He did not fail to notice a Bat shaped origami on his night stand.

“Bruce” he called out, his voice trembling.

“Br-Bruce, wake up.”

He took his mentor's hand and brought it to his forehead, bending his head, and he cried.

Ever since that night, it became an unspoken tradition for both to leave origami figures for each other when the other was stressed or feeling down. It became even more frequent when Dick became Robin because of his increasing nightmares.

But every time, Bruce was there for him, providing comfort.

But as Dick grew and entered his teenage years, it became less frequent.

Dick and Bruce started having more and more disagreements and fights. In the beginning, they would use origami to converse with each other, mostly for apologizing. But as days passed, their fights grew more and more frequent, until one day when Dick altogether decided to put an end to it.

Their bonding activity came to an abrupt end, when dick moved out of the Manor.

Dick was silently shedding tears, when he heard a rough voice.

“Chum” Bruce called out, he eyes squinting, trying to adjust to the lights.

“Bruce, you’re back. God, I missed you so much, B”

Dick immediately hugged the old man, his head to Bruce’s chest hearing his heart beat, and cried.

These few months had been one of the hardest days of his entire life. Losing Bruce, he was forced to take up the Mantle of Batman and make the right choices as the next responsible adult.

Becoming Batman, leaving Nightwing, making Damian Robin, letting Tim go was the hardest decisions he’d ever had to take.

But he had to do it. Do it for the sake of his family, do it for the sake of Gotham.

Gotham needs Batman, so he had to make the right choice.

He was hurting. Hell, he was grieving. But he had no one to turn to. Despite having awful nightmares, he had no origami figures on his nightstand anymore. He had no one to provide him comfort.

He had lost his Dad once again.

He hugged Bruce tightly, fearing that he would disappear into thin air if he doesn’t do so.

Bruce closed his eyes and relished the feeling of his firstborn hugging him. He then glanced at Damian, who was watching them closely.

Bruce smiled and motioned him to join the hug. When Damian made no move, Bruce pulled the young boy towards him and hugged him.

Damian went rigid for few seconds, before closing his eyes and returning the hug. The three of them spent the next few moments huddled together, peacefully.

#batfam #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #cassandra cain #duke thomas #bruce wayne is a good parent #barbara gordon #dc comics #alfred pennyworth #justice league #young justice #tim drake angst #hurt tim drake #tim drake needs a hug #batfam needs to go to therapy #angst angst baby

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bluejaysandblackbats · 1 month

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Tangerines

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, YJ98

Summary: Tim Drake's friends and family all give their accounts of events leading up to Tim's hospitalization. In their attempt to piece together the cause, they realize his hospitalization was not accidental.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne

Additional Tags: Hurt Tim Drake, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, POV Multiple, Tim Drake-centric

Chapter One: The Accident (Jason's POV)

It was my fault. I should’ve stepped in when I saw how strange Tim looked. Seeing him caught me off guard. The wind whistled around my helmet as I swung from building to building, landing wherever I pleased. It was a strangely quiet night, crime-wise. Uncharacteristically crime free as traffic bustled beneath me. I would’ve turned in early had it not been for Tim. I spotted him from the skylight, jumping off a balcony in the Hilton. He was in his pajamas. His robe flew behind him like a cape, his slippers flew off his feet, and he landed through the awning, bouncing from there to a fruit stand and finally to the ground. I didn’t see anyone come to the window after him, so I watched from a distance as he stumbled into traffic.

My gut feeling told me something was wrong, but I didn’t listen. I watched as he ran down the street, and I followed from a distance, catching glimpses of him where I could. I should’ve made contact, but I didn’t. I stayed away, wondering where he was going and not caring about how his possible mental state. It was erratic behavior. He ran through the biting cold, grime, gunk, puddles, and piss in slippers. God, I should’ve stopped him . He swung his hands in front of his face as he ran down the sidewalk and into traffic. It took me off guard.

I never saw it coming. Tires screeched, horns blared, and time stood still. I didn’t have time to help Tim, but I saw it all happen in slow motion in my mind. Every detail perfectly and painfully cemented forever in my mind. I saw him stop cold in his tracks, his shoulders dropped, his legs stiffened, and his eyes… I’ll never forget his eyes. The defeated acceptance written all over his face, like the lights went out behind his eyes. He was dead before the car hit him, gone before his body hit the ground. It was the same way I felt before I died. I could almost feel the defeated pains in his chest and the uncomfortable slowing of his heartbeat.

His body bounced as it skidded across the ground. I could almost feel his bones breaking, his body bruising, skin tearing and burning, and road rash on his back, arms, and legs, and my body went cold. I never had a bond with Tim emotionally. We were brothers, but I never felt connected to him like a brother until that moment. I couldn’t scream. I felt the makings of a scream in my throat, but my body shut down. Running and shoving people out of the way to check Tim’s pulse. Blood on my hands and his pajamas. I couldn’t feel his pulse. Either it was weak, my hands were shaking, or he was dead. I did compressions and breaths until I heard him groan. I hadn’t said a word. “Oracle, I need an ambulance at my location,” I stated.

My voice felt detached from my body. I was so used to taking life that breathing it back into someone—. Breathing life into Tim shook me to my core. I wouldn’t let anyone touch him or move him until the ambulance arrived. I didn’t hear Barbara reply. I didn’t hear anything except for Tim’s weak and short, struggling breaths. He trembled as his clothes soaked through with blood and piss and rain. I wouldn’t let him move. “Don’t try to talk… Please, just—. Just stay still.” I frantically shook my head as he whimpered breathlessly, coughing and spitting up blood. I knew he punctured something by the way he struggled and gurgled. His crimson-stained teeth, the tears streaming down his cheeks, the—. God, I can’t say anymore. I can’t think of it anymore. They took him away in the ambulance, and I went home. I couldn’t follow Tim to the ambulance in costume, so I showered and switched into civvies before getting the hospital name from Barbara. I stopped in the parking lot, finally processing the horrific events that led me there. I made a noise in the back of my throat as I planted my hand against the wall. I almost threw up from the smell of exhaust. I couldn’t distinguish Tim’s trauma from my own at that moment. If Bruce hadn’t seen me outside and grabbed me, I would’ve stayed stuck in that moment.

Bruce touched my forearm. “What happened?” Bruce questioned.

I snapped to the present, gasping for air as I grasped at one of the many fleeting thoughts floating around in my head. “Tim,” I replied. I couldn’t say anything else. I couldn’t explain what happened without getting choked up.

“Let’s go inside. I have to see what’s going on with him,” Bruce whispered, “Can you hold it together?” He wasn’t attacking me. I could hear the gentle change in inflection as he asked me. I didn’t have a choice, though. I had to come in with him. I was the only one who saw what happened, and I was the one who saved him. I hated that I didn’t do better, but that was beside the point. I had to see how Tim was doing.

We stopped at the front desk and the nurse said some bullshit about visiting hours and family. I wanted to yank him over the desk, but Bruce stopped me. “Jason,” Bruce whispered, “Tim Drake. I was notified that he was in an accident. I’m his adoptive father, and this is his brother. We’re in a rush to hear about his condition. It’s nothing personal.”

The hell it wasn’t. He typed something into the computer, glancing at me as if I screwed his day up. “He’s in surgery,” the nurse answered.

“Is that all—?” Bruce took a breath to control his tone. “Is that all you know?” Bruce questioned.

“The operating surgeon would prefer to tell you herself,” the nurse answered.

My jaw tightened as I turned away from the desk. “Jason, take it easy—.”

“He can tell you. He’s just being a jerk about it,” I whispered, “I could kick—.”

“Jason, let’s sit down,” Bruce replied.

He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Barbara’s hacking into the hospital’s database as we speak to see if he’s in the system.”

I followed him to the seats and shut my eyes as I tried to play everything back in my head. “Jason, what happened?” Bruce questioned.

“I can’t say for sure, but I think Tim wanted to—.”

Dick rushed in, and Bruce waved him over. Dick looked at me and squinted. “You were there?” Dick asked. Already accusing me .

“I didn’t—.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t capable of—.”

“I said I didn’t—. It’s my fault,” I confessed. I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I wanted everyone to blame me. Dick shook his head.

“No, it wasn’t. If you meant to hurt him, you wouldn’t have felt bad… Jason, what’s going on? What do you mean it’s your fault?” Dick asked.

“Tim was off… He—. I saw him before it happened. I followed him from the Hilton… And I kept my distance, but I should’ve known he wasn’t himself. I should’ve known Tim was—.” I couldn’t say it out loud. Not yet. Not without proof. But how could I get proof of his mental state?

#fic #tangerines fic #batfam #yj98 #young just us #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Hurt Tim Drake #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Hurt/Comfort #Angst #POV Multiple #Tim Drake-centric

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forgotten-daydreamer · 2 months

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Not sure if I'm going to post another fic tonight, it's past 10.30 pm and I've had ten hours of class, and the same fate awaits for me tomorrow, I'm dead. We'll see if the gods of inspiration decide to bless me in a few minutes.

#tim drake #cassandra cain #cass cain #nyssa al ghul #promise dc #dc comics #dc #batman #red robin #orphan #my writing #whump #angst #tim drake angst #tim drake whump #hurt tim drake

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iriswords · 1 year

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Febuwhump Day 22 - Can’t scream

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here

tw: the Joker, torture (broken bones and carving something into flesh), emotional torture

Fandom: Batman

Words: 2472

Tim and Damian are caught by the Joker while on patrol. He wants to play a game neither of them will like or come out unscathed from.

“We’re going to play a game, birdies,” says the Joker as he paces between Robin and Red Robin.

Tim and Damian face each other, tied on chairs in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Gotham, their suits in a poor state and their dominos ripped off. The Joker caught them earlier that night before either of them could send out a signal, and brought them to the warehouse. Damian’s head is still bleeding slightly from the head, courtesy of the blow that knocked him out, and Tim’s own head throbs from a similar wound.

It is the first time Damian has ever been caught by the Joker, and Tim can see all over his face how scared he is, though he valiantly tries to hide it. It is not Tim’s first time, but he is equally scared. The Joker is always terrible news. He brings with him the sweet promise of cruel and sadistic torture. If no one manages to find them in time, they both know they will die, for the Joker does not willingly leave his victims alive.

Jason would know.

“Since I finally managed to catch two birdies at once,” continues the Joker, “I’m going to kill two birdies with one stone.”

Tim represses a flinch at the word choice. Damian sends him a frightened glance, and Tim is suddenly reminded of how young his brother is. Despite all his training with the League, and despite the amount of pain Tim knows he has endured, Damian is still a kid. A child who should not have to deal with anyone as dangerous as the Joker.

The Joker stops his pacing right behind Tim, fisting his hand in Tim’s hair and pulling.

“Tell me,” he whispers in Tim’s ear, “do you care much for your brother?” Tim does not answer. “You know,” adds the Joker conversationally, as though they were old friends catching up, “I love hearing my pets scream. It is music to my ears. But I find those screams all the more delicious when they are properly ripped from their throats, when they scream because they cannot do anything else. When they try so hard not to scream but they still cannot help it.” The Joker lets go of Tim’s hair. “I’m going to start playing with you,” he says, “and if you scream, I’ll switch to your brother. He’s so young. It would really be too bad if he got hurt, birdie, wouldn’t it?”

Tim’s blood freezes in his veins. He knows his limits. They have increased considerably in the time he spent away from Gotham searching for Bruce, but he knows the Joker will have no trouble reaching them because the Joker does not have boundaries. Tim will scream, no matter how much he will try not to. It is inevitable.

Damian’s gaze is steady when Tim meets it, his chin set defiantly. I trust you, he seems to be saying. Tim isn’t sure he deserves it.

A bat swings in the Joker’s grip as he places himself in front of Tim. He will start by beating Tim up until he breaks enough bones that Tim cannot escape. The only thing Tim can hope for is that all the injuries he will sustain tonight will heal without problem.

Tim braces himself for the first blow and does not so much as grunt when the heavy bat forcefully connects with his ribs. He can feel a couple breaking under the strength of the hit, but it is nothing he hasn’t endured time and time again before. The Joker will have to do worse to make Tim break, but it is good that he starts lightly. The more time he takes to make Tim scream, the more chances there are that someone will find them before Damian can get hurt.

The blows rain on Tim. More ribs crack and break before the Joker decides to move onto another part of Tim’s body. Tim clenches his teeth hard enough to give himself a headache when the Joker, after many targeted hits, finally breaks his left shoulder, but he does not scream. He doesn’t either when his right tibia falls victim to the Joker’s shattering blows, or when the man catches Tim’s broken shoulder with his bat. He nearly does when he hits Tim’s shoulder a third time, but all that escapes him is a choked whimper.

“You’re a tough birdie, aren’t you?” asks the Joker gleefully as he lets the bat clatter to the ground. His fingers hook beneath Tim’s chin and force him to look up. “Someone got you before I did, didn’t they? They had much fun with you, but I’ll have more.”

The Joker slips behind Tim again and unties the thick ropes binding Tim to his chair. As his body moves away from Tim’s vision, Tim’s eyes can finally settle on Damian, whose gaze is much less steady than before. Unshed tears swim in them, and his fierce mask falters when Tim gives him a shaky smile.

Tim hurts to see his baby brother like that, but he would hurt even more to watch him be tortured. Tim knows Damian will be brave. He just has to be, too, and save his brother the pain of being tortured.

The rope falls from Tim’s wrists and ankles, and the Joker grabs him by the hair to yank him out of his chair. Tim falls to the ground directly onto his broken shoulder, and pain erupts in his arm. A broken scream leaves him before he can reign it in. He pants through the pain, waiting for the fog to clear. Only when the Joker cackles with delight does he realize what he has done.

He scrambles forward as well as he can, frantically trying to catch the Joker’s ankle, as though that would change anything to what is coming, but a well-aimed kick sends him falling backward and grunting in pain.

“No!” he yells, but the Joker doesn’t listen. He prowls towards Damian, faster than Tim’s pathetic crawl, and picks up the bat as he passes it.

“I’ll give you matching injuries, birdie,” he announces joyfully. “This way, it’ll be poetic. I’ll write songs about the two birdies who hurt each other. But in reality, they only hurt themselves by hurting the other.”

Damian does not meet Tim’s eyes as the Joker positions himself before him. From where he is prostrated on the floor, Tim can see the tension on his shoulder and the tremors running through his hands. Yet, Robin’s expression is fierce as ever as he waits for the Joker to start the torture.

Tim watches, helpless but festering with rage, as the Joker swings the bat at his brother. Damian does not make a sound. He does not make a sound when his shoulder breaks—the right, a mirror to Tim’s left one—or when the Joker keeps hitting the broken bone. He does not make a sound when his ribs crack some more.

But Damian does not cry out and Tim breaks slowly on the floor.

Throughout it all, his expression stays even and Tim becomes painfully aware that torture absolutely was a part of his training in the League. He had known it already, but witnessing how long his brother can withstand torture without letting out a single sound is hammering the fact into Tim’s mind.

Tim wishes Damian would just cry out. He wishes the Joker’s attention would shift back to him. He wishes he would get tortured instead of his brother.

It takes the Joker breaking his leg in two different places for Damian to cry out. Tim has never been happier to hear his brother’s pain manifested. As expected, the Joker turns to Tim, leaving Damian slumped on his chair, breathing heavily. A solitary tear rolls down his cheek, and Tim promises himself he will not scream until rescue comes.

The Joker abandons the bat on the floor and takes out a knife, small but sharp, and glinting in the warehouse’s faint light. The Joker crouches down next to Tim, his head cocked to the side, and Tim would spit in his face if not for fear of the man reverting to hurting Damian.

Abruptly, the Joker stands back up and stomps on Tim’s shoulder. He nearly screams because of the searing pain tearing through him, but he grits his teeth and lets tears manifest his pain instead. Without warning, while Tim is still trying to work through the pain, too stunned to struggle, the Joker flips him on his back. Tim’s head hits the hard ground and the room spins around him.

Then, the Joker sits on his hips, and Tim freezes. The position is uncomfortable on his whole body and terribly painful for his broken bones. But what terrifies Tim is what the Joker is going to do. The warehouse’s cold air hits Tim’s skin when the Joker tears through his undershirt with his knife and exposes his entire back. Tim barely dares to breathe. Fear hammers against his ribcage and constricts his lungs.

It doesn’t hurt quite as much as his bones breaking so violently did. But the knowledge that Tim is being marked makes it harder to withstand the pain. He forces himself to be brave and endure the pain without a sound, just like Damian did. When his chest heaves and his throat tightens around a suppressed cry, Tim remembers how the Joker tortured his brother, and he swallows his scream before it can leave his mouth.

When the blade starts cutting through the skin on his back, Tim rests his head against the floor and tries to escape his mind.

It takes him four strokes to realize the Joker is forming letters. That he is carving something onto Tim’s back. Terror comes back tenfold. His first thought is that he is going to bear the Joker’s mark for his entire life. His second is that at least it will be on his back. His third is that Damian can probably see what the Joker is writing.

When the Joker is finished with his inscription, he starts again, retracing the letters painstakingly. It hurts more the second time and tears soak the floor under Tim’s eyes but he takes it silently. He muffles all of his pain, thinking only of Damian, even as the Joker flips him around again and his injured back and shoulder slam against the ground.

The Joker stands above him, bloodied knife still held firmly in his hand, and observes him, calculating. Tim does not have the strength to move his head and look at Damian. The Joker moves so suddenly that Tim cannot brace for it. The knife penetrates his abdomen with a force that steals Tim’s breath away. But not his voice. For the second time this night, he cries out. It lasts longer this time.

He cannot even protest, cannot beg as the Joker turns triumphantly to Damian. All he can do is curl up on his side, his hand pressed awkwardly against his wound. The Joker unties Damian slowly, singing merrily the whole time. The second the ropes fall to the floor, Damian acts. His elbow slams viciously against the Joker’s nose, and he stands up while the other man recoils back, a hand over his broken nose. Damian hops on one leg and bends down to take the knife that fell to the ground. It is still wet with Tim’s blood.

Damian does not need to make use of the knife. The warehouse’s windows shatter under the impact of feet, and their family drops to the floor as one. Jason visibly flinches as he catches sight of the Joker, but he does not hesitate when he aims his gun at his murderer and puts a bullet through his skull.

The warehouse immediately falls silent. Everyone is looking at Jason, but Jason himself is only looking at Bruce, his shoulders tense but his gaze unapologetic.

“It needed to be done,” says Bruce softly. “He did not want to redeem. His reign of terror has ended, and I’m sorry I could not be the one who did it. I hope you will all understand.”

Jason nods once and puts his gun back in its holster. Instantly, the vigilantes spur into motion and direct their attention to Tim and Damian. Tim passes out as Dick crouches next to him.

Tim wakes in a cot in the medbay, feeling surprisingly heavy. As the heavy fog of sleep slowly dissipates, he looks down at himself and finds Damian latched to his side, uncaring of the casts digging uncomfortably in Tim’s body. Tim finds he doesn’t mind either and raises a hand to card through his sleeping brother’s hair.

“He slipped out of bed an hour after he woke up,” says Bruce quietly from the side of the bed. “We tried to take him back to his bed, even offered to put you two in the same room, but he refused.”

Tim smiles. “Did Dick take pictures as blackmail?”

“Plenty.”

When Tim wakes up again, Damian is gone. For the next week, Tim barely catches sight of his brother. He manages to corner him as he is playing with Titus in his room, ten days after they were captured by the Joker.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, and Damian reluctantly looks up from his dog. Immediately, his eyes fall onto Tim’s injuries, and his gaze shies away.

“You were hurt because of me,” Damian whispers, his head hung.

Tim sits down in front of his brother. He is keenly aware of the thick casts encasing his brother’s limbs. “I was hurt because of the Joker. So were you. Do you think you were hurt because I screamed?”

“No! I would not ask of you to withstand torture without screaming just to spare me.”

Tim would absolutely ask this of himself. But that is beside the point. Bruce already talked with him about how none of it was his fault, and though he talked to Damian too, it seems it only worked on Tim.

“Then why would you think I would ask this of you?” he asks Damian.

“Because I’m supposed to be perfect. Grandfather—”

Tim scoffs. “Damian, no offense, but your grandfather is an abusive piece of shit. I would not take anything he says or expect as something to respect. In fact, I would even advise you to always try to do the contrary of what he wants. It’s a sure way to do the right thing.”

A tiny smile plays on Damian’s lips. “So you’re not mad?”

Tim’s heart breaks at the question, and he draws his brother into an awkward hug, their casts getting in the way. “I could never be mad at you for something like this, Damian. Not even when we didn’t get along.”

@febuwhump

#my writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #whump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday22 #torture #violence #tim drake #damian wayne #hurt tim drake #hurt damian wayne #tim drake whump #damian wayne whump #dc #batman #batfamily

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taralaurel · 1 year

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Febuwhump 2023 | Day #10 | Difficulty Breathing

prompts courtesy of @febuwhump

jealousy, jealousy

And then Damian is knocking a mobster back and hurling himself across the roof toward Tim, a hand outstretched and mouth wide, Tim's name on his lips. At least, Tim is pretty sure it's his own name. He can't exactly hear anything anymore.

His eyes droop.

He sways.

And then, tips over the edge.

After Tim is nearly drowned, he keeps fighting because he feels fine, really - so why is it still so hard to breathe?

OR OR

Tim is saved by the two batfamily members he is pretty sure would rather see him dead.

Tim, nearly dying:

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 2 years

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Never mind, I found it. It's Kidnapping Tim's Dignity by Sophie_Vers.

Okay... What's that fic where Tim's photos get leaked, and he goes to Bruce, and it's an ordeal because he feels violated and upset, and Bruce is raining hell on everyone because none of it is remotely okay. The author has a note at the end about how objectification/sexualization of celebrities and how off it is that we've normalized people's private lives (sex tapes, nude photos, etc.) being publicized by the press.

It's not 'Say Cheese', though that's a good fic. It's kinda the opposite in that the fic takes a not okay stance on a similar event.

#batfamily #batfam #lost fic #ao3 #help #tim drake #timothy drake #red robin #batman #bruce wayne #tim whump #tim drake whump #hurt tim drake #tim and bruce

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miles2g0 · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson Characters: Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Whumptober 2022, Hurt Tim Drake, Hurt Dick Grayson, Protective Dick Grayson, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Whump, Monsters, Demons Series: Part 5 of Whumptober 2022 Summary:

Another wave of nausea hit him hard and he felt weakness overtaking him, his legs turning to jelly. “Dick,” he warned. Dick’s attention snapped to him. “Dick I don’t think—I can’t—I ca—” His vision was blackening at the edges and he felt Dick grab a hold of his shoulders to keep him standing. He could hear him speaking, but it sounded like he was underwater. Dammit, Dick needed to go, he shouldn’t be wasting time with Tim’s useless dead weight. “Dick. Dick, go—you—”

---- Dick and Tim are at a gala when a demon attacks.

#whumptober 2022 #no.11 #sloppy bandages #batman #fic #hurt tim drake #hurt dick grayson #dick grayson and tim drake #protective dick grayson

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froldgapp · 2 years

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“Hey, wake up,” Jay spits, suddenly vicious. Tim’s face remains still, his cheekbones like delph. His lashes fan funereal. Jay licks his lips and fights the urge to destroy that perfect, passive face. “Wake up,” he says again, his eyes burning in their sockets. He pinches the skin on Tim’s collarbone hard enough to bruise. “Wake up,” he grits out, sucking down whatever emotion is trying to crawl its way up his neck. But Tim is still, still, still.

Read here.

#jason todd #tim drake #batman 125 #hurt tim drake #jason todd fanfiction #spoilers

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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What Do You Have There?

A knife!

Danny plunked the butter knife in its pedestal of importance. The nice thing about having a billionaire vigilante for a... foster is the amount of money Danny was allowed to drop on his hobbies. For example, his extensive collection of souvenirs.

They're not just any old regular souvenirs. No, no, no. That would be so boring! No, these souvenirs, he obtained from the various muggings, knife fights, and various other situations he's been in ever since he was dropped ungraciously into Gotham.

The butter knife? Damian. Precocious, stabby Damian who he had startled into the stab instinct. A point of pride, really. Danny knew Damian was good at fighting! It was practically, in ghost terms, a super enthusiastic hello! Yes, the butter knife would be kept in the well lit part of the wall. Alfred had told him to stay home today to recuperate. He didn't need it, since the wound would heal in an hour or two, but he'd take staying at home any day.

A couple of hours later, well into the afternoon and right before what Danny knew to be their patrol hours, Danny had a visitor.

"Danny."

"Oh, hey, Damian! What's up?" Danny turned around to see Damian hovering awkwardly near the door.

"I am here to... check upon your wound. It is imperative that it gets proper treatment."

Ancients, Damian was exactly like those alley kids. He just ate a thesaurus instead of the drawling accent the alley kids picked up. Which meant Damian endeared himself to Danny pretty quickly. Like a little ghostling.

"Oh, I'm good. See? No blood is leaking out of the wound." Danny held up spotless bandages.

Danny watched Damian step into his haunt- his room- with a pleased hum. Damian inspected the bandages and stepped back with a sharp nod of approval. His eyes flicked to the wall that Danny was rearranging (again) and did a double take at the butter knife in the middle.

"Is that the butter knife I stabbed you with?"

"Why, yes, it is!" Danny beamed.

"Why on earth would you display that?"

"Because you stabbed me with it?"

"That makes absolutely no sense, you simpleton! When someone stabs you, stab them back!"

"That would be mean!"

Damian spluttered. Danny tugged the kid closer to the wall, cheering inwardly as Damian didn't shove him away. It might be because he was exaggeratedly wincing as he moved his "injured arm" but Danny has learned to take a win where he could find them, especially with ghosts. Not that Damian was a ghost, but he sure acted like one.

"Do you want to see my collection?"

"Your collection?"

"Yeah!" Without giving him time to answer, Danny barreled ahead. "So this is the knife you stabbed me with. Which, by the way, was an awesome show of strength and accuracy."

Damian grimaced. Danny continued blithely, secretly memorizing Damian's reactions to laugh at later.

"And this is the knife those guys stabbed me with that one time Cass found me. And this one is a bullet someone shot at me down by the docks. I think I interrupted some kind of meeting?"

Damian's jaw had a slight tick to it that would have been a baffled frown on anyone else.

"And when was this?"

"Oh, like a week ago."

"What? When did you go to the docks?!"

"At night. I couldn't sleep."

"And you went to the docks?! How did you even get there?!"

"Walked," Danny lied, like a lying liar. He floated, obviously, but none of them knew that. "Anyways, this is a law book! Someone threw it at my head!"

"Hey, guys! What're you doing?"

Danny and Damian turned around.

"Richard? Brown? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Bruce wanted me to come back for the weekend," Dick said. Danny knew it was code for "something's going down and we need back up." Man, he still couldn't believe they didn't know he knew they were crime fighting vigilantes.

"Same!" Stephanie said. Danny was glad to see that her wounds from "cartwheeling in the manor" were healed.

"I see. Danny was showing me his collection of... objects people have used as weapons against him."

"What?!"

"Yeah!" Danny beamed, completely innocent. "Come on! I'll show you!"

With that, Danny continued to ramble. He just knew that the way Dick's and Stephanie's smiles strained would give him a good laugh for weeks to come. "And this is the glass bottle a drunk tried to shank me with in Crime Alley, and this is a knife the Red Hood himself threw at me."

Dick interrupted, face stiff. "Hood threw a knife at you?!"

"Yeah, but that was because my kids broke into his safe house and I was trying to get them to stop looting the place. And he didn't know I was a kid too, so he aimed a gun at my head. He shot at me too, but I couldn't go back to get the bullet, or else it would have joined my collection." Danny grabbed a box and shook it, metal rattling inside.

Dick smiled sweetly, Stephanie and Damian inching away from it.

"Oh, wow, I see!"

----

In his apartment, Jason shuddered. He grabbed his guns.

"Something's wrong. I just know it," he muttered to himself.

----

Danny smiled innocently as he described the horrific, near death events he got his souvenirs from.

"This is my bullet box! Man, Gotham has a lot of gun fights. I got shot so many times!" Danny complained, shaking the box like a rattling toy.

"Did you know Danny snuck out to go to the bay?" Damian snitched immediately, like a snitch.

"The Bay?! Danny! You know that's where people dump bodies, right?!" Stephanie poked him in the arm.

"Yeah, but like... I wouldn't die. And besides! I missed my friends!"

"You mean the minions you made in Crime Alley?" Steph asked. Danny pouted, eyeing the way Dick's gaze roved over his souvenirs and paling the more he realized how often Danny "got hurt."

Damian bumped a shoulder against Dick's arm. Danny returned to the conversation.

"If anything, I'm their minion." He said, remembering the times the Alley kids sent him on food runs.

"Fear Danny, the overlord of street rats."

Danny snorted. And- "Oh! Yeah, there was like a weird owl looking guy? And then they stabbed me with a finger and I kept it because woah, cool talon looking thing, right? And then they threw a bunch of those tiny knives at me? And then they just kind of vanished? Gotham is so weird."

And now, with all of them pale and stressed out of their minds, Danny swung a devastating blow called guilt trip.

"And that's the batarangs!" Three heads swung over to the line of batarangs. "Those vigilantes kept throwing them at me! One of them even hit me in the arm. Those things are sharp, man."

"Uh. Which ones?" Stephanie asked.

"Hm?" Danny hummed obliviously.

"Do you know which vigilantes?"

"Oh, it was like... the purple one. And the sword one? And like the one with the yellow insignia in the middle. And... all of them, I think? Except for signal. That guy's cool."

Stephanie and Damian had matching veiled looks of guilt. Dick shot them a sharp look. Danny decided to deal the last bit of damage to Dick.

"I'm glad you guys are way less stabby than the general Gotham public though, butter knife incident aside. At least I don't have to worry about you guys getting into danger, right? If you guys got hurt like my family did... I don't know..."

Danny smiled-squinted at them, channeling Cujo at his cutest and saddest: when he doesn't get to eat off of Danny's plate. So, pretty sad and pathetic.

"Uh, yeah." Dick said, guilt splayed all over his face. "Alfred said dinner was almost ready."

"Yes," Damian cleared his throat, looking away. "We shall partake in Pennyworth's hard work."

"Ahaha!" Stephanie laughed, nervously. "Welp, let's go bother Tim!"

Falling into step behind them, Danny grinned.

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momachan · 2 months

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"The thing is-- what scares me most-- I'm always Robin. Ever since Batman gave me the cowl, I... That's who I see myself to be. That's who I've been for all the importants moments of my life. But in that room... it felt good to let go. To embrace the pain. Was Spoiler right? Am I punishing myself? Because, hidden under all of this is the real question-- Who am I if I'm not a Robin?"

DC Pride: The New Generation (DC Cultural Anthologies (2021). Tim Drake Special. "Sum Of Our Parts."

#dc comics #dc pride #dc cultural anthologies #tim drake special #batman #dc robin #tim drake #bernard dowd #spoiler #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #detective williams #future state #hurt tim drake #what the heck

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feyburner · 10 months

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Damian can of course draw very well, but he’d rather die than let Tim think he put any effort in

Final panel text:

Tim: Got a little sidetracked at the end there huh

Damian: What do you mean?

#the answers he turns in to Dick: 1. fishing 2. camping 3. sports 4. the zoo 5. scientific pursuits #Dicks like :D i didn’t know you wanted to go fishing!#damian wayne #tim drake #dc #droring #i’ve drawn more in the past week than in the year previous my hand HURTS

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the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 16 days

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Just a Kid Next Door - Chapter 3

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 3---------------------------------

No person in their right mind would move to Gotham City willingly. After all, she is known for her rife crime and murder rates which makes her extremely unsafe and dangerous for living.

But she is also home to all the Bat and bird themed vigilantes, who swore on their life to protect her and her citizens from the moment they put on their mask and cape.

If they say Gotham city is unsafe, then Crime alley is perilous. It is the hotspot in Gotham city for all the criminal activities. It is notoriously known for Burglary, illegal shipment of drugs, human trafficking, sexual assaults and domestic abuse, which are activities of common occurrence in this part of the city.

But that doesn’t stop Jason from having hope. Having hope that one day, Crime alley will become free of crimes.

The edgy crime lord, protector of Crime alley, the big bad Red Hood is the passionate and fierce vigilante of Gotham city. Residing in Crime alley of all places in Gotham unlike the other bats and birds, he took it upon himself to be the savior of this area. Being born and raised in this part of the town in the early days of his childhood as a street rat made him extremely street-smart .It gave him even more reasons to make this part of the city and free it from the clutches of the cruel monsters.

It is no lie that Jason had a tragic past. His mother was a drug addict and his father, an abuser.

Jason has no habit of doing anything in halves, even when it came to loving his mother, who was blissfully high on drugs most of the time. But Jason’s love for her never dimmed because she was the best mother to him when she wasn’t in euphoric state.

And then his parents died. He became homeless. Even then Jason was a bright eyed kind with hope shimmering in his eyes. And then Bruce took him in as his son, making the fire of hope, blaze.

But then he was also killed by the Joker, which almost extinguished the blazing fire. And then he was resurrected, making the fire flicker again, hoping for another chance. From that moment, he’s been adding fuel to that fire, flaring and red-hot.

It was almost the cark of dawn when Red Hood was grappling his way back to his small abode. But Jason’s mind was elsewhere. His mind was still running the words Clark had said to him a while ago.

‘Batman is back. We saved him from time stream. Wonder Woman and Flash managed to bring him back to the Batcave.’

‘Batman is back’

Batman is back.

Bruce is alive.

Alive.

“Fuck fuck fuck” Jason muttered, while swinging back to his apartment.

‘Bruce is alive. The replacement was right all along. Shit, does Timmy know about this? How will I pass on the news to him? And where the fuck is he by the way?’ Jason’s thoughts were becoming restless by each passing second.

‘Bruce is alive. Shit, he is alive and breathing. Is he okay? Is he hurt? Dammit, why did I not go to the Manor?’

Jason thoughts were running a mile a minute when he finally reached his safe house. While unlocking the door to his house, he noticed his security system was down.

“What the fuck?” Jason hissed

Someone had the audacity to hack his security system and break into his house. His very strong security system. Only few people who have to skill to do that are the Bats, but no one knew where he lived. Except for –

“Oh”

Composing himself by letting out a long sigh, he entered his safehouse. Tim is one of the very few people who knew where he lived and has his way with hacking almost anything, after Oracle.

After all, Tim has been breaking into his safehouse to annoy Jason by raiding his kitchen and blabbering, for quite some time now. Jason found it annoyingly cute. Dammit, that leech of a little brother had started to grow on him.

But now, Jason was worried. He hasn’t seen or heard from that bastard for a very long time. And now that little shit has the audacity to break into his house after worrying him by going MIA for almost six months.

Bruce’s supposed death was hard on everyone. Hell, even Jason found it hard to move on. His dad had died. Left him, left is brothers and sister, left is friends, left everyone, forever. Jason still had nightmares about it.

The last time Jason had seen Tim was the day Tim moved out of the Manor. He was trying to convince everyone that Bruce was alive, which worried Jason. He still vividly remember the conversation he had with him that night.

---

“Next time you break into my house while I’m out for patrol, you scrawny little shit, I will not hesitate to slit your throat once again for good” Jason growled, climbing into his safehouse through the living room window, while removing his helmet.

There was no reply. The apartment was pitch black and there was no sign of anyone.

“Stop hiding from me replacement, it’s of no use” Jason added.

Again, no reply.

Jason was starting to get irritated. “Quit playing games with me Timmy, I’m serious. I have no time for these nonsense.”

He then heard the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen.

“Tim, you in there. Shit, are you injured?” Jason asked, suddenly feeling concerned, while hurrying his way towards the kitchen. ‘How can he be injured?’ Jason thought, because Jason hadn’t seen him on patrol today.

The Kitchen was dark too. But Jason was able to see a slouching figure sitting in the barstool kept near the kitchen island. He wasted no time in switching on the lights.

Tim’s back was facing him, and Jason could see broken pieces of glass just below him on the wet floor.

“Sorry, it just slipped my hand. And no, I’m not injured” Tim said, his voice not more than a whisper. His brother was wearing grey sweatpants and a worn out oversized black hoodie.

“Jesus Timmy, you gave me a scare.”

“Mm-mm”

Jason had a nagging feeling that something was wrong with his little brother. First of all, Timmy hadn’t raided his kitchen for the leftover food, his back was stiff and tense even while slouching on the kitchen island and most importantly, he was silent.

His brother would have eaten his ear off by now, by talking about some random facts like how Australia is bigger than moon or how Scotland chose the Unicorn as its National animal.

Jason then came to a reasonable conclusion that his brother might be sleep deprived. Tim would give Bruce a run for his money by surpassing him when it comes to depriving himself of basic necessities like food and sleep by immersing himself in his nocturnal activities.

“When did you last sleep, replacement?”

“Uh… uh I don’t know?”

Something is definitely wrong.

Jason carefully avoided stepping on the glass shards and went to stand in front of his little brother.

Tim was facing down, finding the broken pieces of glass more interesting than answering his brother properly.

“Tim, Look at me”

After few seconds of complete silence, Tim looked at Jason.

Tim was crying. His eyes were bloodshot, his face wan and almost translucent and his lips were quivering.

“What happened, Babybird?” Shock was an understatement. Jason had never seen the boy cry, not even once, even in horrible moments. His little brother was the most logical among them all. He always relied on his wits and intelligence to solve any problem. Hence even in worst situations, Jason had only seen Tim carefully planning and executing his next move.

“Talk to me, Timmy. What happened?”

Tim started to weep, which startled Jason. He started to rub circles on his back, while consoling his crying brother.

“It’s okay, Timmy. You’re fine. Nothing is gonna happen. I’m there for you. Your brother is there for you."

After a few minutes of consolation, Jason was able to quiet down his brother’s sobs. Tim took few for minutes to stop crying.

“You know what, lemme take you to the manor. I’ll ask Alfred to make a cup of hot chocolate for ya. It is the best for breakdowns. And then we can talk. We can even pull Dickiebird along with us after he comes back from patrol”

“N-no, I can’t go to the Manor”

“What do you mean by ‘you can’t’, Tim?”

“I just- I just can’t, okay?”

“Why, what do you mean by that?”

“Because I moved out, okay. They don’t want me there anymore.” Tim said harshly.

What

“WHAT?” Jason was shocked.

Tim let out a long sigh. He was cracking his knuckles and tapping his feet on the floor board in an annoyingly fast pace.

“What do you mean by you moved out?!?. You’re like what, twelve?”

“I’m sixteen” Tim hissed.

“Yeah, almost the same damn thing” Jason said, exasperated.

“But it’s not a big deal, anyways. Cause they don’t want me there anymore”

Now Jason was confused.

“You are saying me that Goldie and Alfred let you move out of the Manor. Are you shitting me, Kid?”

Tim didn’t reply.

Jason was confused as hell.

“Okay, this is just some big misunderstanding. We will sort it out in the morning in the Manor, okay? Now come on, wash your face and put on your suit at least. We still have some time to patrol. It will help you let off some steam. After that, you could tell me about what happened in the manor, Okay?”

Tim started laughing bitterly. Now Jason was starting to get sacred due to the instant shift of his brother’s mood. ‘What the hell?’ was the only thing that Jason’s mind was able to come up with.

“What kid, did I stutter or something? Go on, put on your suit. I know you love to patrol.”

“What suit?”

“Did you hit your head somewhere, replacement? What do you wear for patrol, a three piece Armani?”

“I don’t have the suit with me, Jason”

“Okay, that’s not a problem. Because you always keep a spare one here somewhere, right? Wait here, lemme go and check” Jason said, making his way to the spare guestroom.

“I cannot wear the suit, Jason” Tim said, his voice sounding forced.

Fucking hell. This kid is going to drive him insane.

Jason turned and looked at Tim. Tim’s face was void of any emotions.

“May I ask why, replacement?” Jason asked, annoyance clear in his tone.

“I’m not Robin anymore, Damian is.”

...

…

What did he just say?

What the fuck?!?

Did he hear that right? Or did replacement totally lose it.

“Yeah no shit. I totally believe you”

But Tim’s face held a serious expression. And then Jason looked into his eyes, which held multitude of emotions.

The first emotion Jason saw was betrayal. ‘Why do Tim feel betrayed?’ he thought. Tim’s eyes held also held pain and loneliness. He then realized that his little brother was scared and lonely.

“I’m not lying, Jason” Tim said, his voice breaking. It took Jason a minute to process what he just heard. He was not able to understand anything. Why did the Gremlin become Robin when Replacement is alive and perfectly functioning. And who made Damian Robin in the first place?

“What the fuck Tim? You are Robin. Not that Gremlin. You are robin until you tragically die some way or the other. And who made him Robin anyways, cause last time I checked, Bruce was fucking six feet under” Jason said raising his voice, feeling like he is going to explode any minute.

Tim flinched, making Jason regret his choice of words.

“It was Dick.”

“What?”

“Dick chose Damian over me”

Tim sounded hopeless. Jason could pick up the boys strained breathing. He swiftly made his way towards the younger boy’s chair.

“Dick, he- he made Damian wear the Costume. He gave Robin to Damian, Jason. Just like that, he snatched it from me. He chose him over me, Jason.” Tim sobbed, clutching the elastic of his hoodie in an iron grip while staring at Jason. Jason felt his heart break.

Yeah, everyone are in a bad place since Bruce’s death. But it still absolutely makes no sense to Jason why Dick fired Tim from Robin. Dick, out of all people, who knew that Tim struggled with a lot of issues due to his shitty childhood.

He don’t know what made Dick think that snatching Robin from him would be a better idea, given that the kid earned his place with serious determination and hard work. Unlike others, Tim took it upon himself to take the responsibility of Robin after Jason’s tragic ‘death’. And Jason would say without hesitation that Tim is the best Robin among them all. After all, the boy dedicated his whole life for Robin.

He still doesn’t fucking understand who gave Dick the idea that Tim will magically be able to ‘move on’ from the last piece of stability he had left in his life.

Tim stood up abruptly.

“You know what, I’m sorry for bothering you. You might have other important works than hearing me talk about my pathetic life. I’ll get going, Jason. I’m so sorry” Tim said, giving no time to Jason to reply.

He pulled over his hoodie and rushed to the Kitchen window and leaped, before Jason could catch him.

“Tim” the older boy called out. “Get back here this instant” he shouted, standing near the window

But his little brother did not listen. He was nowhere to be found. Not even in the alley down his apartment.

Jason sighed heavily, trying to process everything when he saw bloody footprints from the glass shards to the kitchen window from which Tim leaped.

---

Just thinking about that night made Jason sick. All the effort Dick put in strengthening his relationship with Jason went down the drain after the incident. Jason entered his safehouse carefully. He’s going to have a very long talk with his little brother now.

#tim drake is red robin #tim drake angst #hurt tim drake #tim drake needs a hug #batfam #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne is a good parent #alfred pennyworth #young justice #justice league #tim drake gets a hug

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bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months

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Blue Ribbon Birdie

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Tim Drake meets Ted Kord at his fifth-grade science fair.

Chapters: 1/1

Characters: Tim Drake, Ted Kord, Janet Drake, Jack Drake

Additional Tag: Bittersweet Ending, Parent-Child Relationship, Hurt Tim Drake, Absent Parents, Angst

Tim stood beside his trifold poster board, rocking back and forth on his heels and toes, waiting for his parents to arrive. They promised they'd come, but it was getting late, and the judges were about to arrive to judge fifth grade. He wasn't the best student when homework assignments were involved, but he put his whole heart and soul into his science project. Tim thought that if he won, his parents would stick around longer than usual to celebrate. He'd worked tirelessly on the project for weeks, hoping it'd sustain their attention. It wasn't like there was a big competition. It was the usual run-of-the-mill volcanoes, clean pennies, solar systems, and potato batteries. He was a shoo-in.

He thought it'd be a regular science fair with teachers for judges, but he was in for a shock the moment the door opened. Ted Kord. Most kids there didn't know who he was, but Tim did. Ted was his tech hero. He was a modern-day inventor and an all-around good guy.

His heart skipped a beat as Ted made his rounds. Tim was in the very back corner, so he knew he'd be one of the last people Ted spoke to if he had time. And oh man, did Tim hope Ted would have time. Had he known Ted Kord would be a judge, he would've worn a better shirt. His mind raced as he tried to hold onto one central thought. His presentation. Tim rolled his shoulders back and went over his speech in his head. He'd given the same speech hundreds of times before to his nanny. He wasn't sure she was listening, though.

Tim wasn't sure if anyone ever listened to him, but it didn't matter. He liked things that way. At least that's what he told himself. But today was different. He'd impress Ted Kord, and then his parents would have to notice him.

Ted Kord approached Tim's table and smiled. Ted reached out to shake Tim's hand and introduce himself, but before he could speak, Tim took a deep breath, and words spilled out of his mouth. "You're Ted Kord! You're the greatest modern-day inventor there is," Tim smiled.

"I don't know about all that," Ted grinned, "It looks like you've brought something extraordinary to the table. Literally. I don't think I've seen a QR code at one of these things before... I'm excited to see what you've got for us today."

Tim took a second breath and shut his eyes before explaining his science project. He explained how he used coding to develop a quick crisis hotline for Gothamites, even providing a way of exiting the site for fear of being caught. He started to doubt himself, wondering if his project was good enough, but the look on Ted Kord's face told him everything he needed to know.

Ted beamed. "May I? I won't be able to think until I scan the code," Ted whispered. Tim nodded and watched as Ted scanned the code and navigated the site. "If this whole elementary school thing doesn't work out, you've got a job with me. Seriously, though, this is impressive... For anyone. I don't know about the other judges, but I'm ready to give you the big blue ribbon and a patent. This is-. I mean, wow... What else can I say?"

The other judges said their piece, but Tim couldn't hear anything after Ted's commendation. Tim could feel the warmth in his cheeks as he smiled. He stared at his feet and nearly burst into tears when Ted knelt on one knee and pinned the first-place ribbon to his shirt. "You should be so proud of yourself. You made a sophisticated website that can be put to use to help people in need. That's the coolest thing in the world," Ted whispered. Tim was so overcome with emotion that he hugged Ted. The sudden display of affection took Ted aback, but he hugged Tim back.

Tim let go and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry-."

"It's fine. Where are your folks? I'd love to meet them." Ted looked around, and so did Tim. They were nowhere to be found. Another broken promise.

"They're out of town on business," Tim answered, "It's okay, though. I'm gonna write them all about it... Can I-? Would it be too much to ask for your autograph so I could show them that I met you?"

"I'll do you one better. Wanna take a picture?" Ted suggested. Tim nodded and smiled despite the pit in the bottom of his stomach. His teacher took pictures of Ted and Tim standing in front of Tim's poster board, and Ted signed the back of Tim's poster board.

Once the school day ended, he rode home, carrying his poster board with tears in his eyes. He kicked himself for being upset, but he thought things would be different this once. The house was empty, except for his nanny. "How'd you do?" she asked. Tim took his ribbon off and set it on the counter. "What's with the long face? You won!"

"I'm just tired," Tim mumbled. She nodded and let him go to his bedroom. He sat on the floor and shed tears, face hidden in folded arms.

His parents came home the day afterward, thinking they were in time for Tim's big day. "Told you we wouldn't miss your big day for anything-."

"It was yesterday," Tim interrupted, "I forgot to remind you that the timezone's a day ahead here..." Janet frowned and elbowed Jack.

"How'd you do?" Jack questioned.

"I got first place for fifth grade, but I'll know how I did for the school-wide part once the judges go over the fourth, fifth, and sixth winners," Tim answered. He couldn't be moved to display any excitement. He wanted to, but he also wanted them to feel bad for missing it. It was selfish and childish, but goddammit, he was the child. And it wasn't fair. They should've been there cheering him on like all the other parents.

"Oh wow! Tim, that's great news!" Janet exclaimed as she showered him with kisses. It made him feel better, but not enough to provoke a smile from him. "That must've been so exciting!"

"It was... I met Ted Kord and everything," Tim whispered.

"Ted Kord was there?" Jack questioned. Tim nodded.

"I got his autograph. It's on the back of my poster board," Tim replied. Jack picked up the poster board and turned it over.

"How about we get ice cream to celebrate?" Jack suggested. Tim shrugged.

Ice cream wouldn't fix this. Everyone's parents showed up. Except his. And he won! If there was any time when a tantrum was warranted, it'd be right then and there. "You guys promised," Tim cried, "You promised that you'd be there no matter what... And everybody's parents were there! Even the parents of the kids with dopey science projects were there! I worked really hard, and nobody showed up! It's not fair! It's not fair!"

Janet and Jack frowned. They weren't sure what to do with Tim's emotional outburst. To them, it seemed sudden. Janet sat on the floor, unsure what to say, so she reached for him. Tim fought her at first, but he eventually gave in. Jack messed up his hair. It didn't change anything because that wasn't what Tim wanted. Tim wanted an apology but wasn't willing to ask for one. It was the first and last time Tim openly displayed his anger and disappointment in them.

#batfam #blue ribbon birdie fic #oneshot tag #tim drake #ted kord #janet drake #jack drake #Bittersweet Ending #Parent-Child Relationship #Hurt Tim Drake #Absent Parents #Angst

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