AxelsFire96



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    "Did you see?" says Dick, and he lets go of Tim's shoulders to take him by the arm, tugging him toward the kitchen instead of the Batcave. "Alfred made cookies."

    "Think he's trying to lure you in," says Tim, with a huff of a laugh. "Like one of those traps they bait for raccoons."

    "Raccoons are too smart for that, baby bird," says Dick, blithely, and swipes up one of the bait-cookies anyway, biting into it with an appreciative little hum.

    Tim finds somewhere else to look — fixes his gaze on a spot on the far wall, trying hard to ignore the way the kitchen smells of cinnamon and nutmeg and sugar. His stomach twists a little, hopeful, and he tells it firmly that these aren't for him. They're Dick's welcome-home cookies.

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    28 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    "I don't know why we're wasting our time with him," says Dick. "Just tell him he's not good enough already."

    It's a hallucination, like all the rest. Objectively, Tim understands that.

    But he feels the words like an icepick in his chest all the same, and a part of him knows. This version of Dick might not be real, these words might not be real, but what he's saying is true anyway.

    "Are you fucking listening to me?" says the man in the red helmet. "The big bad bat's not coming to save you." There's a crash, and when Tim turns toward it, his desk's been overturned. His laptop is lying on the floor in a tangle of cords. If any of this were actually happening, Tim might be afraid that it was broken.

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    28 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    "Alright, asshole," says Jason and plunks a folder down directly on the keyboard of Tim's laptop. "I'm calling in that IOU."

    Tim doesn't startle, not visibly. But all at once there's a batarang in his hand, the blade gleaming sharp. It takes him a second to register who the intruder actually is before he gives Jason a lingering, suspicious sidelong glance and tucks it away again.

    "What IOU?" says Tim. "And how'd you get in here?"

    He looks like shit, frankly. There are dark smudges under his eyes, and he's lost weight since Jason's seen him last. From the coffee cups scattered around the desk, it's probably even odds that he's on at least 24 hours without sleep.

    "I work in mysterious ways," declares Jason. "By which I mean your window's open. You get kind of careless when you haven't slept, Timbo."

    Language:
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    8/8
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    27 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    The thing is, he should probably cancel.

    Tim knows that.

    His brain's a little swimmy, the way it always gets when he's running a high fever, and he hasn't been able to swallow enough to reach the amount of caffeine needed for his usual levels of faking it.

    But it isn't very often that Dick asks for his help, anymore.

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    27 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    He spots the robin on a tree branch maybe thirty feet away, and Tim, grinning, goes to adjust the settings on the binoculars.

    It's exactly then that he realizes what's behind the bird.

    Because from here, on the third story and at just this angle, there's no treeline to block his view. Behind the little robin singing on its branch, he can see the Wayne family manor, clear as anything, close enough that it almost feels like he could reach out and touch it. One of the windows on the downstairs floor is open, and it's draped with light curtains that float softly in the breeze. A moment later, a different sort of Robin bounds into view, sans mask, grin wide and bright.

    Tim flinches back as though burned.

    Language:
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    27 Jun 2026