I'm opening some writing commissions to help me cover my bills this month. Any little bit would help!

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Writer: Graces

AO3 & Tumblr: @kgraces

I feel like I wrote this fic already lmao but ! This fic would be set when Bruce is "dead" and Tim is having his daily breakdowns. Somehow, Dick gets word that Tim is going to try something Crazy to get Bruce back, and he goes to wherever Tim is holed up and he's. He's not having a great time himself and his brother is being very reckless with his safety and wellbeing so he's a little snappish. And he gets there just in time for Tim to fire up some time travel machine or boom tube or what have you, I don't have to think about the details here. They both get caught up and pulled backwards into time.

Tim was aiming for before Bruce died, like pretty soon before, but somehow it gets messed up -- the math was good for one person of Tim's size and ability, but now we've got Dick added on too -- and they end up when Bruce is sixteen. The same age as Tim. And Tim, Tim is so! angry! that Dick interrupted him and ruined his plans. So like, on top of their grief and miscommunication issues already, now they've got to navigate this time period without tipping off (or meeting??) Bruce (and also try to fight crime too).

I see this as generally being Dick having the worry and the anger, but there's probably some event where Dick is in danger, and it gets flipped back onto Tim. Maybe while they're attempting to get back to their own time?? That way Tim's worry and anger can also have a tinge of guilt 0:)

The challenge: post the last 7 sentences you wrote and tag 7 people

Well, these are from my gift for @fanfictiongreenirises for Dark Week in May :D

What a failure of a son Tim was.

“You’re just offering that because you want to get out of it yourself. No, I think I just ate something weird. The worst of it has passed – I do need a shower, though. So… see you.”

Tim didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t wait for Bruce to realize something was wrong – he ran.

Maybe a shower would help. Maybe his room would provide a sanctuary. Maybe he would finally stop smelling her.

Tim didn’t even believe himself.

well whaddya know this is my current wip ive been working on the most ;) chapter one is done (wooh) and im hoping to have this up within the month, but.. we shall see lol. im going with snippet OR explanation, so heres a snippet:

–

“You looked at my internet history?” asked Tim quietly.

Dad tossed the printout to the side and grabbed Tim by the arm, pulling him off the bed. Tim was shocked into silence, and stumbled as his feet made contact with the floor. The only thing keeping him upright was the painful grip his father had on his upper arm.

“Dad,” said Tim with a gasp, “you’re hurting me.”

His dad either didn’t hear or didn’t seem to care. “You keep this shit out of my house. You hear me?” he roared, spittle spraying from his mouth.

Fear flooded through Tim’s body so fast he went numb. Gooseflesh erupted on Tim’s arms, and his legs turned to jelly. Tim had never seen his dad so angry before, and he felt frozen in place, too terrified to move or speak. He gave a tiny nod, hoping that was enough to answer his dad’s question.

–

okay. yes. i am in fact very ticklish 😔✊

Fic rec! Batman, 2.3K  Summary: Bruce revives an old family tradition, but not everyone is in the loop.

Sorry this took me a couple days to answer! No Ra's, because I sat down to write this and decided I was too tired for anything complicated. Not my finest work, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

---

“Stay back!” Dick snapped, electricity arcing across his escrimas.

In front of him, a mob of restless drunks, egged on by goons. Behind him, Tim, curled up on the floor, whimpering in pain.

“You alright back there, Robin?” Dick asked, projecting as much confidence and bravado into his voice as he could.

“I’ll live,” came Tim’s voice, shaky and pained but with that cocky confidence that came with being Batman’s partner. It was enough for Dick; he turned his focus to the crowd.

“Here’s how things are going to go. You’re either going to turn around and leave, or I’m going to make you leave. And,” he sparked the escrimas again, “it’s going to hurt.”

There was a moment of uncertainty; he could feel the energy of the crowd building to a tipping point. The only question was which way it would tip. He held his breath, waiting.

He thought maybe they would leave, right up until someone in the back yelled, “There’s more of us than there are of him!” and like that, the peace was broken, and the crowd stumbled forward.

From there, it was on. Whirling, kicking, and dodging, he did his best to keep a half-circle of space between the crowd and Tim.

Three minutes in and he panted out, “Robin, please tell me B is on his way?”

There was a moan that might have been agreement, or might have been wishful thinking. He ducked a wild swing, cracked a man in the back of the head, tripped another goon into two more, sending all three sprawling. “That’s fine, I’m sure I can handle these guys. I don’t have a broken rib from getting hit by a car or anything.”

Tim grunted out something that sounded like “doing great,” and Dick kept getting glimpses of him in his periphery pushing himself into a more upright position from his spot against the wall. Another three minutes and he had maybe half the crowd knocked down; another three and half of that half looked like they were determined enough to get back up.

“N’wng,” he heard behind him. “Duck.”

Dick didn’t hesitate. He hit the ground, twisting and rolling backwards to end, crouched, in front of Tim. Over his head, a flash of light that made him instinctively squeeze his eyelids shut.

Bang! The flare sent several people stumbling, and Dick lunged forward, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to fight his way through some of the larger and more sober goons, the ones shouting and raising enough of a ruckus to get everyone else riled. With them out of the way and a majority of the mob knocked down or out, it was short work for the rest of them. Some just ran, which was fine with Dick.

He crouched by Tim’s side. “Hey champ, how’s it going?”

“Fantastic,” Tim slurred. “Th’s a… a vacation.”

“Okay, bud, let’s get you out of here,” Dick said. Carefully, he pulled Tim into his arms and gathered him up, hoisting him off the ground.

“Th’ bike’s gonna suck”, Tim mumbled against Dick’s chest.

Dick had to agree. His bruised and broken ribs also agreed. Not that they got a say.

He stumbled out into the alleyway behind the building. “Okay, Tim, just gotta make it to where I parked-” A quiet, familiar purr interrupted him, and he grinned. “Nevermind. Looks like we’ll be riding in style.”