Mikage4444
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Summary
Dick is sold to a werewolf pack.
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An IOU (and Other Things That Aren't Owed) by Asidian
Fandoms: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
21 Apr 2026
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Summary
"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."
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Tommy has had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
He’s had to run from a gang, and then from the police before it was even lunch!
Oh, and to top it all off apparently now PRINCE TECHNOBLADE is looking for him! How is he supposed to run from THE BLADE???
or alternatively,
Techno has put way too much effort into trying to understand how this orphan child works, Wilbur doesn’t bother attempting to do so, Philza doesn’t quite know how he ended up with another kid, Tommy is most definitely NOT A CHILD, TECHNO, and Tubbo is just content to watch his bees.
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- 4/4
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Bookmarked by Mikage4444
30 Mar 2021
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Apparently, Mr. Oz decided psychologically torturing a 15 year-old for six months was no longer "cool." And now Tim's paying the price for that, because instead of killing him like any good, self-respecting villain would, he's dropped him back on Earth with an apology and a snack.
Or,
It's been six months for Tim. It's been 10 years for Tim's family.
I'm sure it will all be fine.
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Summary
“ART,” I managed, voice pitched up just a little. “What are you doing?”
Part of the touch on my chest slid up to cup my jaw. It was— warm. Gentle? It was weird and unexpected and I scooted away until my lower back hit the couch’s armrest, which obviously did nothing. `My beautiful SecUnit,' ART said, and my breath hitched oddly. It’s the malware, Murderbot, it’s the fucking malware. Keep it together. 'You still haven’t realized what’s happening? You still don’t understand what I’m going to do to you?'
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Or,Oh shit, sex has consequences?