#tim Ransom

[itsallmadonnasfault]

[kwebtv]

A Woman Named Jackie - NBC - October 13 - 15, 1991

Biography (3 episodes)

Running Time: 246 minutes total

Stars:

Roma Downey as Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis

Stephen Collins as John F. Kennedy

William Devane as John Vernou "Black Jack" Bouvier III

Joss Ackland as Aristotle Onassis

Wendy Hughes as Janet Lee Bouvier

Ashley Crow as Caroline Lee Bouvier Radziwill

Boyd Gaines as Hugh Dudley "Yusha" Auchincloss

Tim Ransom as Robert F. Kennedy

Lisa Eichhorn as Dr. Jordan

Rosemary Murphy as Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

Andrew Buckley as John F. Kennedy Jr.

Nadia Dajani as Christina Onassis

Sarah Michelle Gellar as Teenage Jacqueline Bouvier

Josef Sommer as Joseph P. Kennedy Sr.

Eve Gordon as Marilyn Monroe

Brian Smiar as Lyndon B. Johnson

Bob Gunton as Hugh D. Auchincloss

Jessica Tuck as Lorraine Murphy

Anna Thomson as Ilona

[morganbritton132]

Do you think that the people of Gotham are ever just trying to enjoy their day and then see one of the Waynes walk into the cafe they’re at or go to the movies at the same time as them, and think, “Great, my chances of being a part of a hostage situation has just been raised by 20-40%”

[spacedace]

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

[ghost-bxrd]

Tim can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

He thought— the Tower was bad enough. He hates being kept out of the loop, especially for “his own protection”, but he never thought—

It is Robin who had been threatened. Robin that Batman had been taunted with. Enough times, and with grisly enough descriptions of what might happen to him, that Bruce sent Tim to the Titans as a last ditch effort to keep him well out of reach of Gotham and its newly minted crime lord.

But Hood took Bernard, and Tim can’t breathe. Can only stare at the grainy picture from an unknown number, showing his boyfriend tied up and gagged in someone’s— Hood’s, probably, oh god— bed.

Tim wants to throw up.

Please god, please no.

— sneak peek of “Modern Day Cain”

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Stephanie Brown sits tied to a chair in a trio of kidnappers apartment. She's slightly terrified, but mostly aggravated she took Tim's advice on just being kidnapped and not fighting back. The kidnappers start a recording on the leader's phone and he stands close to Stephanie. (I love the clip this was inspired by).

Kidnapper (Warren): All right, read this!

Warren holds up a note book with a script for Stephanie to read.

Stephanie, tied up: Father- wow that handwriting.

Stephanie squints her eyes.

Stephanie: Father, I have been abduct, I am fine-

Warren: Abducted.

Stephanie (dryly): It says abduct.

Warren: Just say abducted.

Stephanie (rolling her eyes): Father, I have been 'abducted'. I am fine right now, but I may not be for loring.

Stephanie (chuckling while continuing to read): If you do not pay the 'sun' of one million 'doolars'-

Warren (reading over the note): Wait a minute, wait a minute. Loring? The 'sun' of one million 'doolars'? What the-

Stephanie (mockingly): That's what it saaays.

Warren (pissed off): That's 'long' and the 'sum' of one million 'dollars'. You know what it means.

Stephanie (indignant): I don't know what it means. You told me to read this. That's what I'm doing.

Warren aims the gun at her, but Stephanie crosses her legs not caring anymore.

Warren: Just say what it means, okay?

He turns the notebook back to face her.

Stephanie (annoyed): I may not be for long if you do not pay the sum of one million dollars, you will never see me alive again these men mean 'businesses'.

Stephanie snort laughs.

Stephanie (jokingly): I'm so glad you got your child to write this.

Warren shakes with anger, reading the note again. He glares at the other kidnapper.

Warren: Kevin!

Joey talking to Kevin: I think he's pissed at the note.

Kevin takes a step back from the kidnapper, holding his head down.

Stephanie (snide): It says 'businesses' that's what it says, you told me to read the note you never said to improv it.

Warren (lowering his gun and glaring at the sneering girl): Oh, improv! What are you Meryl -Fuckin- Streep? Okay, improv the note!

Stephanie (recrossing her leg and clearing her throat): These sexually frustrated degenerate losers mean (softer tone) business.

Warren (stammering and pissed off again): Don't- Don't- Don't improv it. Don't get smart.

Stephanie (with attitude): I'm sorry me passing english class in freaking home school ruined the flow of your crappily written note!

Warren: Fuckin- Joey give me a fuckin pen!

Warren walks away, smacking Kevin on the back of his head. Joey hands him a pen. Stephanie keeps her legs cross while whistling.

Warren (angrily whispering): Oh I was home schooled, look at me. Fuckin' brat.

Stephanie: It's not whispering if I can hear you.

Warren walks back over to Stephanie and shows her the new ransom note.

Warren: Read it.

Stephanie: Dad been kidnapped, send one million or I'm... Dead.

Warren presses the stop button for recording on his phone.

Warren: Perfect.

Stephanie (fake sweet voice): Good for you, your chicken scratch writing was so much easier to read. You write like a monkey with a typewriter but good for you.

Warren (shaking with anger): You're lucky we need this money.

Stephanie: Much like every woman who has the misfortune of laying down with you, I know that statement isn't true.

Warren clenches his fists deciding it was better to walk away over unleashing his anger on the young woman.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Brain dead au where Jason was planning on pulling a Bruce.

Only to see Tim pulling the cowl equivalent of goo goo eyes during the middle of an Arkham breakdown.

Ahh hell..

~~~~~~

Jason, dumping a bucket of water on a chained up Tim: RISE AND SHINE TIMBIT!! IT’S TIME FOR A CHAT!

Tim jolts awake: wha- Jason?? What the f- why?

Jason casually circles around Tim: Quite simple Replacement! You’re fucking with my plans again and quite frankly neither of us like it when we have to have this little chat.

Tim: I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. You know Alfred isn’t going to approve of the theatrics-

Jason: DON’T BRING ALFIE INTO THIS! Besides I think he would be quite proud of me right now. Using my words, he’s been trying to get Bruce to do the same thing since he was eight.

Tim: look I haven’t been trying to fuck with anything-

Jason: oh contrary little Timmers! Blue eyes black hair. Occasionally green and white. Nearly beats Dickie in wordplay and somehow has befriended the demon brat well enough that he has the honor of first name basis.*whirls around to glare at Tim* You are not as fucking slick as you think you are.

Tim:….

Jason: So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go home and nap. Get at least six hours and then clean up. Choose something nice to wear and ask him out. Treat him like a fucking gentleman and stay off everything but emergency coms. AM I CLEAR?

Tim: c-crystal..

Jason: good. I was planning on pulling a simple Bruce on him and all that but if this works out than I don’t even need to do any of the heavy lifting. But if this doesn’t than I’m letting you know that you are not going to enjoy any of the family dinners afterwards.

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016, Tim Burton)

20/07/2024

[kellymagovern]

Adema - "Giving In" [x]

[martyrbat]

HELP I FORGOT TIM CALLS ALFRED A SISSY FOR TAKING DANCING LESSONS....

[oifaaa]

“Bullying is ok as long as it’s Tim Drake” this is why you’re one of my favorite Batfam blogs lol he deserves it sometimes

Definitely can't take credit for that one I first saw @dick-nightwing-grayson using it a while back and just stole it for myself but we all agree Tim deserves a bit of bullying

[heartlandians]

Heartland - 17x01 - The Path Less Traveled

[heavenlycinema]

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children 2016

Dir. Tim Burton

“If I show you the rest, you have to promise not to run away.”

[whydoweownthisdvd]

Now available on the podcast!

[robinrites]

Day Six: My Son

Happy Day Six of Whumptober!

TW: Kidnapped, slight torture (not graphic), panic attacks (not graphic)

Summary: Tim has been kidnapped by people who don't know he is Robin, and are holding him for ransom in hopes that his father, Bruce Wayne, will pay them well for the return of his son...but the kidnappers seem to have different ideas about returning him in one piece.

“We have your son.” Bruce slammed his fist against his desk, growling before letting the video continue. “We have your son Mr. Wayne, and if you want to see Timmy here make it home okay, you’re gonna want to listen real closely to what we have to say.” Bruce watches as the man pulls Tim up by his hair so he faces the camera. Panic flashes in Tim’s eyes as he tries to say something, only for it to be muffled by the gag. Tim squirms from the man’s grasp until his hair is released, allowing his head to lull forward. “Now, as I was saying, 10 million dollars, cash, untraceable. Gotham docks two nights from now. If we catch wind that you’ve told GCPD or Batman… let’s just say the only way Timmy here is going home is in a body bag capeesh?” 

Bruce unmutes his microphone, but leaves his camera off so they can’t see the Batcave in the background. “I’ll do it, just please don’t hurt him.” 

One of the men off camera laughs, “We would never hurt anyone, isn’t that right Timmy?” His hand enters the screen only to hit Tim across the back of the head. Tim doesn’t raise his head, and Bruce can swear he hears Tim whimper. “Now, we best be going, lots of work to do-” 

“Wait!” Bruce interrupts, “Can I at least talk to him? Please? I just need to know he’s okay.” One of the men grunts, then yanks the gag out of Tim’s mouth. Tim weakly raises his head to look at the camera in front of him. 

“H-hey Dad.” He shakily says while Bruce tries to ignore the dried blood on the side of his face. 

Bruce tries his best to steady his voice, both for Tim and his own sake. “Hey Tim, how are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay Dad, my head hurts a little. You’ll come for me right?” 

Bruce lowers his head, thankful Tim can’t see him right now. “Of course I will, I love you son.”

“I love you too Dad.” One of the men jumps in front of the camera as Tim says this, and even though he’s wearing a mask Bruce can tell he has a smug look on his face. 

“Well, like I said we’ve got lots to do. Gotham Docks, two nights from now, midnight, don’t be late.” The camera cuts off and Bruce immediately stands up. He dials his phone as he begins to pace the cave. 

“Hey B, what’s up?” Barbara asks as she picks up the other end, unaware of what just happened. 

“Barbara, it’s- it’s Tim. Something happened and- and I just got a ransom video. They haven’t hurt him yet, but if they do I’ll never forgive myself and obviously I could just give them the money, but they don’t know I’m Batman so what if they try something-” 

“Bruce, calm down, it’s going to be okay. Can you send the video my way? I’ll see if I can pick up any clues, maybe Tim said something to help us find him. He’s smart Bruce, don’t forget that.” In spite of the panic she feels, Babs somehow maintains a calm tone of voice. “And while I’m doing that we can send everyone out to look for him.”

“They said they’d kill him if they caught wind I told Batman, Babs-” 

“I know you’re stressed out right now, so you��re not thinking straight. You’ll stay at the cave, in case they call again, while the rest of the team will patrol Gotham.” Babs pauses, “I use patrol lightly, they’re really going to be searching for Tim, but casually enough that hopefully our kidnappers won’t pick up on it. Sound good?” Bruce doesn’t verbally answer, but after years of working side by side with him, Barbara knows him well enough to know his answer. “Good, now I’m going to send a message to the team about Tim, what was he wearing in the video?” 

Bruce racks his brain, despite it happening minutes ago, “Red jacket, it looked like a green t-shirt underneath. That’s all I could see.” 

Babs makes a note of this quickly before continuing, “Okay, I just sent out a message. I’m gonna head your way and then we can go over the video together, I don’t think you should be alone right now. Plus I’ll need a second set of eyes.” 

“Barbara?” Bruce rubs his hand over his face, trying to get himself to focus on anything but the danger Tim is in. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you.” 

The second Barbara arrives at the Batcave she begins to scour the video for any clues as to where they might be holding Tim. She knows having Bruce pace in the background isn’t helping any, but the other alternative is to send him out on patrol where he could get a little too hands-on with any low-level criminal he’d come across. Hours pass, with little to no progress in finding Tim, when another call comes through Bruce’s phone. 

“Unknown number, it’s them.” Bruce states, determined to get any clue on the whereabouts of his son. He picks up the phone then transfers the call to his computer so he can record the video. 

“Hello Bruce, miss me?” It’s the same masked man as before, but Tim does not appear to be in frame. 

Bruce growls, “I don’t even know who the hell you are or what you want with my son.” 

“Oh dear, someone’s grumpy.” He laughs.

“Where is TIm? I want to see him.” 

“‘Where is Tim?’ Oh that’s a good question.” He pauses, then a scream is heard off screen. “Oh, sounds like him, shall we go check?” 

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him.” Bruce bites his tongue as best he can. “I’m doing everything you ask, it hasn’t even been a day. I haven’t involved anyone else I swear.” 

The man picks up the camera and begins to walk out of the room, down the hall slightly then into another room. He turns the camera around so the focus is no longer on him, but on Tim, hanging from his arms in the center of the room. 

“Now I want you to keep in mind that I haven’t broken my promise. I haven’t touched a hair on Timmy’s head. My friend Ace, on the other hand… well let’s just say I turned my back for a couple minutes, whoops!” The man walks closer until the camera is almost in Tim’s face, who doesn’t raise his head or even acknowledge the camera’s presence. “Say hi to Daddy for us.” Tim drops his head even lower, feigning unconsciousness so the man walks away. “Or be boring, that’s fine too. Well, since Tim 's not in a chatty mood, I guess I’ll be going now. Just wanted to remind you of what was at stake if you fuck up. Bye!” 

The line instantly goes dead, followed by Bruce storming out of the room. Babs considers following after him, but instead opts to scan the new footage for clues. After an hour straight of watching the video, Babara is about to give up when she notices Tim moving his fingers strangely. A second look and she realizes it’s ASL. L-I-B-R-A-R-Y he spells with his fingers, so quickly Barbara has to slow the video down to register it. 

Barbara glances at the monitor displaying the location of all the teammates to see who is closest to where Tim is. 

“What do you have for me, Oracle?” Jason asks as he picks up the phone. 

“I think I found him.” Oracle pulls up the directions to where she thinks Tim is being held. “Just outside of Gotham, there’s an abandoned library. I think it got destroyed during some battle Batman had, but the underground part should in theory be intact. I think that’s where they’re holding Tim. You’re the closest one, and you’ll have to go in solo, it’d take too long for backup to arrive. I’m going to look for the building layout while you drive there so you know what to expect so at least you won’t be going in completely blind. I know it’s a lot to ask but-” 

“Tim’s family, Oracle. That’s all there is to it. Send me the address and I’ll head over immediately.” 

Jason pulls up to the library and can’t help but pause as he takes in the building. Half of it has been turned to rubble while the other half barely stays upright. He pulls up the blueprints in his helmet for easy access as he begins to search the building for the entrance to the basement. He makes quick work of the two guards in front of the door, then carefully descends. As Jason carefully walks through the wall, Babs leads him towards the room Tim should be held in. He comes across a couple more guards before arriving at a locked door. Jason picks the lock, and tries to stop himself as the door swings open to reveal Tim being beaten by a man into unconsciousness. 

Rage takes over as his vision becomes red. Jason tosses the man against the wall before laying into him with his fists. The man begs him to stop, but one look at Tim tells Jason that he doesn’t deserve his mercy. His hand goes for his gun, one less asshole in the world, but then Babs’ voice in his earpiece stops him. 

“He’ll suffer longer in prison.” She states. Jason knows this is true, and as much as he would like to finish the job, there are more important things at hand. He spins his gun around and hits the man with the butt of his gun, knocking him out. Jason stands, then spits on the man before he turns around to go tend to Tim.

“Ja-Red Hood?” Tim wearily asks, struggling to lift his head. Jason unlocks the chains around his wrists, catching him as he falls. 

“Yeah buddy, it’s me.” He wants so badly to take his mask off, to show Tim a familiar face, but he knows there are probably more goons in the building and he cannot deal with a secret identity reveal currently. “Let’s get you out of here huh?” Tim doesn’t answer, already fast asleep in Jason’s arms, the safety Jason provides finally allowing for exhaustion to take him over. Tim sleeps peacefully until they return to the Batcave, knowing he’s in the hands of people who care about him again.