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the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 7 days

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Just a Kid Next Door - Chapter 2

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 2---------------------------------

The first thing Bruce sees after opening his eyes is a flash of blinding light, followed by a very blurry face. The person had black hair and light eyes and was calling out his name, that too in a very panicked voice.

His first instinct was to become alert. Even in his dizzy state, he tried his best to observe and analyze his surroundings.

It took Bruce a minute to realize that the person in front of him is his son. The person is one of his kids from his brood of children.

But Bruce was not able to figure out which one though. It was maybe due to his very blurry eyesight or his very concussed head, he concluded.

One of his hand reached out to touch his son’s face. He might not be able to see clearly to find which one of his kid is in front of him, but he could definitely find out through touch.

He first touched his kid’s face and then went to feel his shoulder.

‘Mm, Too fair to be Duke, little shorter and eyes too blue to be Jason, too tall to be Damian and too built to be Tim. Oh, it must be Dick.” he finally concluded.

Bruce and Batman are two different people.

Batman is a powerful vigilante. He channels his grief and pain into protecting his city, Gotham. He’s a master of countless disciplines and he strike fear into the heart of criminals to bring them to justice.

But Bruce is first and foremost, a Father. Bruce Wayne, the Gotham’s prince (not a Prince any more though), the billionaire playboy and philanthropist is a Father. His first priority will always be his Family. His family is the most important thing to him, whether biological or chosen.

And in this moment, he was not Batman. He was just Bruce. A Father.

Bruce missed his kids so much. He still don’t know how many days or even months he had actually missed, but he’s more than glad that he is back. He is not going to let any of his kids and Alfred out of his sight for the next few days.

He then heard Dick’s voice, rough, like he’s been crying for quite some time now.

“Shit, B. You woke up. Do you- you want me to call anyone, like – like, shit …um like Clark or someone. Wait B, um…lemme”

‘Huh, he sounds very strange.’ he thought.

Suddenly he feels a hand under his head and sees a thumb and a forefinger opening his eyes wider. He then realized that he’s being checked for concussion.

“Oh, you are definitely concussed.”

“Grn” he groaned.

He reached out and embraced his kid. He don’t want to miss anymore of his time by waiting. He is going to smother all his kids with hugs until they put up a fight with him.

Dick went still for a few seconds. And then he started to weep, his whole body wracked by sobs.

As much he tries to be a good parent, Bruce is never really the one for dealing with emotions in a healthy manner. And he will never forgive himself for passing on that trait to his children, because his children rarely cried to cope up with feelings. Hence Dick’s sudden outburst threw Bruce off guard.

“Oh, I-I missed y-you so much B, please don’t ever leave us ever again. Don’t leave me al-alone, please. Everyone thought you died, Bruce.” His whole body was shaking.

Bruce’s heart ached. Each of his kid’s sob was like a dagger piercing his heart. Bruce never wished for his children to go through the same trauma he did as a kid when his parents died. And yet, here he is.

“But I didn’t be-believe them. I somehow knew you were alive. I-I never stopped searching for you”

Bruce hugged him even harder. He knew his children were smart, but he was doubtful that they would find out the minuscule clues he left and put two and two together.

But he had hoped.

He never lost hope in his family. He knew they would eventually save him.

And he is proud that he wasn’t wrong.

Dick was now quiet, but Bruce can still feel him crying.

“It’s okay chum, don’t worry. I’m here and I’m not going to leave you alone, sweetheart. Never.” said Bruce, his voice sounding foreign to himself.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Hm-mm, I’m going to bore you all with my facts about dinosaurs. You are going to love every minute of it.” He chided.

Dick let out a hearty chuckle. Bruce was glad to have elevated the mood.

They were occupied by comfortable silence for the next few minutes, Bruce lying on the med bay bed with Dick’s head on his chest and his arms embracing the boy. He felt dizzy, and his eyes started to droop due to his tiredness.

“You are my son, Dick. I’m never going to leave you alone. Never.” He murmured, before falling into deep slumber.

What he failed to notice before going to sleep was, Tim going very still, almost still like a rock.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rain pounded the streets of Gotham. The flooded sewers and subways forced the residents to walk in the rain, soaking wet. The Bat Signal almost invisible due to the cloudburst.

Gotham is a busy city. Social workers working days to fix the city, young CEOs and entrepreneurs walking hurriedly in the crack of dawn and the elites from the nicer parts of the town attending Galas after Galas to keep up their appearances and earn fortunes.

But the City is extremely busy at nights though. Stealth bodies clad in darker shades of Kevlar and spandex can be seen jumping from building to building, fighting rouges and lurking in the shadows, protecting the city.

But nights like these makes it extremely difficult to do their job. Along with the rain came the criminals.

Gotham is a busy City. Not even the dangerous calamities stopped the rogues in the slightest.

That’s why the Batman and the newest Robin can be seen launching their fists and using their acrobatic skills to fight the Penguin and his men

“You cannot catch me, Batman” Oswald snickered. He used his bladed Umbrella to fight against Batman

The Robin was using his Katana to block the blows while performing various impressive fighting techniques thought by the league to fight the Penguin’s men. They stood no chance against the young warrior.

Batman leaped from rooftop to rooftop while throwing his Batrangs at The Penguin, which he was able to block with his shield like umbrella.

The sound of bullet being fired dominated the swishing sounds of cape and the men’s grunts of pain. Many lost their stance and put down their weapon due to the sudden gunshot. Batman used this distraction to jump on Oswald and knock him down.

From out of the shadows emerged a built figure, clad in dark grey Kevlar, brown leather jacket and a very contrasting red helmet which hid the vigilante's entire face, pointing one of his many guns to the sky. The red Bat symbol on his chest glimmering due to droplets of rain.

“I thought you stopped killing” gruffed Batman.

“Aw, you’re welcome, Goldie. I will save you at any given chance. And, don’t be narcissistic. It’s a rubber bullet. And I did not shoot anyone by the way.” The Red Hood replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“tt, you did nothing Hood.” Robin came and stood next to the Batman after tying up the men for the officers.

“Be grateful, Gremlin”

“tt” Robin tutted, shaking his head.

“What are you doing here anyways, Hood? I thought Crime alley is your area.” Batman asked, wiping off the blood from his lips.

“Surprise, seems like our cases are connected after all. I had an intel that Penguin and Black mask are working on some shady stuff together”

“Oh” came out of Dick’s mouth.

Their conversation was interrupted by sudden swoosh of wind. This alerted the three to jump into their fighting stance.

“Fucking hell, Superman. You could have warned us it was just you.” Said Red Hood, relaxing.

“Sorry, but I have an important news.” Replied Superman, eyeing the three of them carefully.

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

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bluejaysandblackbats · 24 days

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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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theforgottendaydreamer · 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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kuebiko-kei · 2 years

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I’m in need of Tim fic ideas to write based on one of or a combination of these:

1. hurt!Tim (Tim encounters whump, srry bb)

2. depressed!Tim (Tim encounters angst, srry bb)

3. ‘wait am I bi?’!Tim (Tim discovers he’s not straight)

4. ‘0.05% away from becoming evil, do not test’!Tim (Tim does things that Batman would very much not approve)

5. stoner!Tim

6. your own idea!

Ready. Set. Send them in.

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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 · 3 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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the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 6 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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theforgottendaydreamer · 1 month

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#tim drake #jason todd #febuwhump #batfam febuwhump 2024 #fwbuwhunp 2024 #hurt tim drake #sick tim drake #tim drake whump #tim drake angst #whump #sickfic

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iriswords · 1 year

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Febuwhump Day 12 - Can you hear me?

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

tw: blood and injuries, self-esteem issues, implied past emotional abuse

Fandom: Batman

Words:

Tim has been caught by the Riddler and is forced to play one of his games. He talks to himself as he progresses, certain the comms don't work. On the other end of the line, the Bats hear everything.

Tim hates the Riddler. He used to like the man, used to find him clever and funny, even, but all past appreciation for him is now gone. He pounds against the door for what must be the dozenth time, screaming at the Riddler to let him out. As if that would get him somewhere. It is a commonly known fact that villains never do what heroes ask them. There would be no villains and heroes, otherwise.

“That’s of no use, birdie,” says the Riddler over the speakers in the room. “We’ll proceed to the next part once you’ve calmed down a bit.”

Calmed down a bit? Tim has more than enough reasons to be angry. Not only did he let himself be captured like a fool, and by the Riddler, of all people—Tim has way too many things to do to spend any amount of time trying to solve riddles—but he also sees no way out. The Riddler placed him in a box of a room, with two locked doors. One he entered through. The other has yet to open.

Tim slumps against the wall and lets himself slide to the ground. The Riddler left him in nothing but his suit, stripped him of anything that could have been useful to his escape. He even took the cape. On his leg, a dark stain grows slowly where Tim was stabbed earlier in the night by the Riddler’s goons. It hasn’t hit anything dangerous, but the bleeding doesn’t show any sign of stopping on its own, and Tim has nothing to stop it with. Carefully, Tim prods at his ribs, which he cracked two nights ago and told no one about. They haven’t gotten worse, but they could use some rest. Unfortunately for them, it doesn’t look like they will get it any time soon.

Tim taps against his comms to activate them. Just like the times he tried before, he gets nothing but static.

“Red Robin to Oracle,” he tries anyway. “Can you hear me?” Silence is his only answer. “The Riddler’s got me, and I’m not in the mood for playing his games.”

“Rude,” comes in the Riddler’s voice over the speakers. Tim ignores him.

“Oracle? Can you hear me?” Still nothing.

At the same moment, a pastel blue gas whirls out of the airway. Tim instinctively reaches for the rebreather in his belt and remembers he does not have his belt or his rebreather anymore.

“What is this?” he hisses at the room, hoping the Riddler is still listening and inclined to answer him.

“I’ve paired up with Scarecrow,” says the Riddler casually, as though this was no information worth mentioning. “He’s decided to expand his horizons and test other aspects of the human mind. As a fellow intellectual, I could only agree.”

Tim would rather he hadn’t agreed. And what does ‘expand his horizons’ even mean? Knowing Scarecrow, it cannot be anything good. Tim holds his breath until he cannot anymore, then lets the blue gas infiltrate his lungs. It doesn’t taste like anything, so far from the acrid taste of fear toxin, like terror on your tongue warning you about what is to come.

Tim waits for the effects, tense as a wire. They do not come. The Riddler gives no indication as to whatever toxin this is functioned or not. Instead, the second door slides slowly open.

“You may proceed to the test,” says the Riddler, and Tim figures he might as well indulge the two villains. If they are satisfied, they could even let him go. He gets up, wincing when he puts too much weight on his injured leg and walks to the door.

Tim steps into a giant labyrinth, stretching over the whole ground floor of what looks to be two joint warehouses. That the Riddler even managed to pull this out without getting caught is a testimony of Gotham’s police failure—and the vigilante’s failure, too, because they definitely should have found out about this sooner—but what is done is done.

“Are you out of creativity?” asks Tim out loud.

“Don’t judge my piece of art too quickly, birdie. You may be surprised. All you need to know is that there are no rules. But if you do something I don’t like, you’ll be punished. You’ll know the exit when you reach it.”

Perfect. Just. Fucking. Perfect. Tim has not had nearly enough coffee to deal with this. It looks like he doesn’t have a choice.

Before going into the labyrinth, he tries his comms again and receives no more answer. He decides to let them activated, in case they come back to life suddenly, and steps into the labyrinth.

—

“Red Robin to Oracle,” says Red Robin, and Barbara’s attention shifts from Batman to Red Robin. “Can you hear me?”

“Clear as day,” answers Barbara. “Where are you and what’s going on? We lost your tracker.”

“The Riddler’s got me and I’m not in the mood for playing his games.”

Barbara snorts. “Who ever is? Do you have any useful information to make it easier for me to track you down?”

Tim doesn’t answer her. “Oracle?” he calls. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you very well, Red Robin. Do you know where you are?” No answer. “Red?” Barbara sighs and switches to Batman’s line again. “B, we’ve got a problem.”

—

As was to be expected, the labyrinth is filled with traps and riddles. Moving walls and hidden goons waiting to take him out. Tim defeats them all, though not without sustaining further injuries. His left wrist is broken, and his leg is minutely getting worse. He leans on the walls of the labyrinth as he stumbles through it, panting, his mind sluggish from the pain. He fights back the strange urge to cry that has been rising in him for the better part of his journey in the labyrinth.

“I wonder if they’ll notice I’m gone,” he says to himself in a surprising bout of honesty. “Or how long it’s gonna take them.” No one answers him. The silence around him is suffocating. He keeps talking, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his consent. “Maybe they’ll assume I’ll get out myself.” He gives a strangled, bitter laugh. “Well, that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.”

Minutes have stretched out into hours, and each riddle takes Tim more and more time to solve. Every time, frustration builds up in him and tears burn his eyes.

“Maybe they won’t care. Mom and dad wouldn’t have.”

—

“Red Robin, can you hear me?” asks Oracle for the thousandth time in the past three hours, since Tim asked for help. And just like those past times, she receives no answer. Everyone is back in the Cave, ready to roam the city as soon as she gets a hint as to where Red Robin is kept. But the Riddler was clever this time, for not even she can find anything leading to Tim. She will, eventually, she knows she will, but the question is, how much time is it going to take?

“I wonder if they’ll notice I’m gone,” echoes Red’s voice through the speakers in the Batcave. Everyone freezes. Apart from a few pained grunts, it is the first thing Tim has said in hours. “Or how long it’s gonna take them.” Barbara exchanges a confused look with Dick. Is he talking about the Riddler and his goons? Has he escaped them?

“Maybe they’ll assume I’ll get out myself.” Barbara frowns as the words start to make sense. Over the speakers, Tim laughs darkly. “Well, that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.”

“Is he—” starts Jason.

“Talking about us?” finishes Babs. “Yeah, I think he is.” Silence falls over the Cave. Babs shares the sentiment. Why would Tim think they wouldn’t notice or come for him?

“Maybe they won’t care. Mom and dad wouldn’t have.”

By her side, Dick makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. Uneasiness grows in Barbara’s chest. They are not supposed to listen to this.

“Red, can you hear me?” she tries again. Tim doesn’t acknowledge her.

—

Tim continues to talk to himself, in a desperate and not entirely controlled attempt at distracting himself from his impending doom. Pain shoots up from his leg every time his foot brushes the ground, and he nearly face-planted three times in the past minute. He rounds a corner and finds himself at a dead-end. Tim chokes on a sob.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he cries to no one. “I just wanted a calm night. Just one fucking night away from assassination attempts and near-death experiences. Is that too much to ask?”

The Riddler doesn’t answer him. Tim sobs harder, and he doesn’t understand why, all of a sudden, all his emotional control, so good usually, is so thoroughly shot.

“Am I really that fucking insufferable that no one wants to keep me around?” The words fall from his mouth without his permission. “Maybe mom and dad were right when they said I was impossible to love.” Maybe everyone was right when they tried to leave. Maybe he should stop clinging to them like a pathetic leach and just remove himself so they won’t have to. Maybe, maybe, maybe—

The tears stop as abruptly as they came, Tim’s chest heaving from the remnants of sobs. He dries his tears with a shaky hand and pulls his mask back on. Whatever this episode was, he’s glad there was no one around to witness it.

—

“Am I really that fucking insufferable that no one wants to keep me around?” asks Tim, and Babs clenches her jaw. She doesn’t dare glance at Dick, still by her side. She knows what she’ll see. Eyes full of tears, cheeks red and wet, face distorted by sorrow. She knows he blames himself, and she also knows he isn’t entirely free of blame. But she cannot comfort him, not when she can barely swallow around the lump in her own throat. The Cave fell into an uneasy silence when Tim first started crying, the sound so unusual to all of them. Tim is all cynicism and calculated boredom. He does not cry.

“Maybe mom and dad were right when they said I was impossible to love.”

Dick lets out an audible sob and curls up on himself, a hand clasped tightly over his mouth. Babs risks a glance at the rest of the Cave. Bruce’s face, bare from the cowl, has twisted into a constipated expression, his way of conveying regret and sorrow. Cass hovers silently by his side, twitchy in a way she usually never is. Farther in the Cave, Jason is pacing, hands fisted in his hair. As his body turns toward her, she catches a glimpse of bright, unnaturally green eyes. Damian, for his part, is rooted to the spot near the Medbay, wide eyes fixed on the speaker. His expression is a careful mask, but Babs can see the way his hands shake slightly where they hang limply at his sides.

“Red,” Barbara tries once again. She cannot help the way exhaustion sips into her voice. “Can you hear me?”

—

Tim misses the goon who comes out of nowhere and misses the bat swung at him. He does not dodge and does not defend himself. It hits his temple full force, a skull-shattering blow that sends him sprawling to the ground. He lands on his broken wrist and the pain rips a howl from him. His vision whitens out for a moment, and he comes to panting and sobbing, cradling his injured wrist to his chest. The goon is nowhere to be found. Tim should be glad, he guesses, that they didn’t stay around to beat him up more.

He straightens up with difficulty, dizzy from the blow, the pain, and the blood loss. His breath itches with silent, uncontrollable sobs. Tim tries to get to his feet, but his knee gives out beneath him and he falls back to the floor. He curls up against the wall of the labyrinth, all of his resolve gone.

“Please,” he whispers to no one. He has never felt more like a child. “Please someone, just come.”

In his head, Jane Drake scoffs disdainfully.

—

“I have an address,” announces Babs. Bruce, who has been anxiously pacing the Cave ever since Tim cried out in pain, turns abruptly towards her, already putting his coal back on.

“Where,” he growls, more order than question. The second Barbara gives him the address, Bruce is gone, closely followed by his sons.

“They’re coming, Red,” says Barbara into the comms. No one answers her.

@febuwhump

Part 2

#my writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #whump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday12 #dc #batman #batfamily #tim drake #hurt tim drake #tim drake whump

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