LumpyPanda13



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    “Take a sit, there’s a good lad,” Alfred says softly as he wraps a nearby afghan around Tim’s shoulders. Alfred sits next to Tim on the sofa and pulls a box of tissues from the side table, offering them to Tim. He takes one, wipes his eyes, blows his nose, and slowly attempts to breathe.

    “I--I’m sorry,” Tim whispers. His breath hitches. “I’m sorry I scared you, everyone is fine--,”

    “You are not fine, love.”

    ***

    Tim reaches a breaking point. Luckily, he is not alone.

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    13 Jul 2024

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    Death is usually the end. Finality. That's kind of the definition of it.

    And falling several stories toward concrete usually meant death. Timothy Drake had certainly assumed as much in the final seconds before he hit the sidewalk at terminal velocity.

    But Tim should have realized that, given the complexity of his life, his death would never be that cut and dry.

    Enter: a severed head, ten missing months, and an immortal cult leader.

    A little less simple. And for some reason, Jason Todd seems to have some answers to his missing months and the violent urge that curdles beneath his skin.

    Language:
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    30 Mar 2024