#rhiw

[haveyoureadthisdcfic]

Wants and Needs (Well, Mostly Wants)

Have you read Wants and Needs (Well, Mostly Wants)?

Yes, previously

Yes, now that you've recced it to me

No

Voting ended onJul 24, 2025

Authour: Rhiw

Subfandom: Batman

Media: All Media Types

Relationships: Gen (Tim Drake-centric, Ensemble)

Year: 2023

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Minor Death

Summary:

Tim wakes up inexplicably in his two-year-old body. Which: odd. But just think, how many people would kill to have an opportunity to redo their life! And Tim has so much he wants to change, so much he wants. He wants to feel important to Bruce. He wants to be Dick's favorite. He wants Jason (his childhood hero) to think he's cool. He wants Damian to need him. And really, is it manipulation if his family benefits from it? Or: He was halfway through the second trash can, when a startled “Good lord” caught him off guard. Tim glanced up, the rhythmic sucking of his pacifier coming to a still at the sight of a black Rolls Royce idling at the side road that lead to Wayne Manor. Alfred was staring at him from the over the car top, aghast. “Master Bruce, it’s not a raccoon.” From the back seat, Bruce Wayne stared at him. Tim stared back. Or: Tim is side tracked by his actual childish needs and wants, gets a whole bunch of his nannies fired, terrorizes his parents with a series of petty revenges, is an honest employer of one (1) newly minted murderer for hire, endears himself to – and thoroughly weirds out – the Waynes, and is generally just a petty, manipulative, vindictive, smol boy.

Submitted by @Redwoodtaters

Submitter's comment:

This might be one of the best de-aged fics I’ve ever read. Tim is a delightful mix of his intelligent, experienced adult self and adorable, childish toddler self, with actual child needs and emotions. He’s still his normal manipulative, obsessive, slightly unhinged self though. It’s a great balancing act between the two. It also features the Wilson’s and Rory Regan! It’s emotional and funny and features some great moments and lines, such as, “That night, Tim sucked lazily on said pacifier as he ordered the hit for Two-Face” (Rating so far seems to be due to topics such as grief and child abuse & neglect. Major Character Death warning is tagged, but currently the only on screen deaths have been canon. The fic does delve into grieving though.)

[178owintersball]

to the author Rhiw who wrote A Matter of Timing on ao3 please know that I love your story. It’s been 4 years since you last updated (I hope you’re doing ok btw) but I just want you to know that you wrote one of my all time favorite fics and I have read it 100 times! It was the first thundershield fic I read and sent me down a spiral and became my favorite mcu ship😂If you ever decided to update again I’d lose my mind but at the same time I understand if you don’t, I makeup scenarios on what happens next before I go to sleep anyway😂 I hope you’re doing well I love your story byeee

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

ps if you read this fic please message me so we can talk about it together!

[squirrelsandpigeons]

It’s not really cottage core, but...

Tal-y-Fan, Gwynedd, North Wales

26 July 2020

From the top of the steep track by the youth hostel in Rowen, North Wales, runs an ancient Roman road. Now little more than a track, it cuts through the landscape straight and true. High stone walls top the steep banks on either side. In places, moss-clad stones are all that is left of the ancient trackway. We toil up this slope from the village, ears filled with the ever present drone of the wind, our boots slithering on the wet stones where once trod the hobnails of legionaries despatched to this far-flung edge of the Roman world. 

About half a kilometre along, we pause and peer through the trees and fallen boulders at the wide green valley of the river Conwy where it sparkles in a patch of distant sun. Rocks litter the foreground, while hedgerows and stone walls mark the boundaries of fields. Far away forests add a smattering of deeper green amid the bright grass. Nearby trees with barrel-sized trunks that hint at their age shelter us from the mingled sunshine and rain. Perhaps they are descendents of those cut by the centurions who tramped along this now-obsolete road? 

Resuming our way where the slope flattens, hot from exertion but excited at what lies ahead, we pause to check our coordinates. According to the map, up to our right on the stony hillside, close to the path, stand monuments and tombs, echoes of an even more ancient civilization. Over the next rise, perhaps we will see them? Sure enough, we round a corner and catch a glimpse of the megalith known as Maen y Bardd, the tomb of the bard. We hurry up the hill above the path to capture a photo before the rain reaches us. 

It stands precarious and tall, several enormous and distinctive boulders, resting at an angle so unlikely that no glacier could have placed them there. No, for this is the work of the neolithic inhabitants of this place, and these monuments pre-date even the Romans with their straight roads and fortifications, outposts of a declining empire. Did the legionaries stationed here marvel at these ancient wonders as they tramped past between their proud fortresses in Caerhun and Caernarfon? Did they make up stories about the deeds of the bard commemorated by these stones? 

A brief squall, short and dense, sends a curtain of rain to obscure the distant hillside. We pause to marvel, pondering the nature of this great bard. Were they a man or a woman? Did they play instruments, sing? Why were they so revered? Did they relay the stories of their people? Perform to delight and entertain or to teach their children and pass on the wisdom of their elders? 

Further up the hill, tucked away from view of the path, stands another ancient megalithic site, the Rhiw burial chamber. We clamber up to it, stumbling upon its entrance, and peer inside. Placing our hands on the cold, wet stone, we crouch in the entrance, our knees clicking, while outside the wind howls and swirls. We turn away from the tomb, the soft grass absorbing the sound of our boots as we stumble back down towards the path, where we encounter more standing stones. The rain comes harder now, soaking our clothes. For mid summer, the climate is harsh, changeable and yet the moody hills provide a harmonious view. 

We return to the track and pass through gates onto a metalled road. Pausing to catch our breath, we look back towards the Conwy valley. 

Further up the hill a tall, thin standing stone, curiously angled, beckons from a nearby field while a stone circle, startles us by its small size and barren aspect. Perhaps like icebergs the greater part of these stones lie submerged beneath the grass? Behind them loom steel pylons, straddling the hills like aliens, incongruous reminders of modern life.

Who knows how these sites were used by the ancient peoples who left them here, what deeds or personalities or gods they mark? Perhaps this is the bard’s domain. Or perhaps the bard, a person of great renown, came later and the people who grieved their passing came to associate them with this powerful neolithic symbol? Regardless, Maen y Bardd watches over it all, a sentinel since before recorded time began in this place. 

We turn to leave the bard’s tomb to the wind and the sweep of the showers, descending into the peaceful valley where the river Conwy snakes around a distant meander

[elfpen]

As a Reprise lurker (seriously love all your work on that, its SO fantasic) Any recs from among those time travel fics? Asking as a time travel trope junkie

Gahhh sorry for taking so long to respond to this!

I was wracking my brain trying to think of my favorite time travel fics, most of which date back many years. There weren’t so many back when I was actively reading a lot of fanfic, and one of them I know I’m forgetting the name of, but the one that really sticks out in my mind is Unexpected Awakening by Rhiw. I read it many years ago, and am fuzzy on the plot details, but I remembering enjoying it a great deal when I was younger. (ALSO Apparently she’s doing a rewrite???? Updated last in December??? Good lord this is a blast from the past...)

Also, it’s not time travel, but so long as we’re on the topic of fic recs, if you ever read any Obi-Wan/pr-saga-centric fic at all, please read anything and everything written by Ruth Baulding. 

In a double tragedy, I have to inform you, however, that Unexpected Awakening was never finished, and Ruth Baulding herself has taken leave of the Star Wars fandom for reasons unknown. But, they’ve both left us with some enjoyable reads, so have at it. 

[soulmeitu]

[ateanalenn]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 29/33 Fandom: Hannibal (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Tobias Budge, Past Robert Lecter/Lady Muraskai, Robert Lecter/Ezra Graham Characters: Hannibal Lecter, William Graham, Ezra Graham, Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford, Bedelia Du Maurier, Franklyn Froideveaux, Tobias Budge, Robert Lecter, Dr. Frederick Chilton, Matthew Brown (Hannibal) Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Human Will Graham, Non-Human Hannibal, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Roux-Ga-Roux, Other Psuedo Creole Mythology/Culture, Blood and Gore, Death, Murder Husbands, meddling father, Dark Will Graham, Human's Die Alot, no, seriously, Bad Things Happen To Humans In This Fic, Eating Of Humans, Old Fashioned Monster Courting, Hannibal Really Really Doesn't Like Tobais, Don't Touch Hannibal's Things, Jesus Christ RUN Franklyn!, Lols these tags, Masturbation, Pretty much assume all meat is human unless otherwise stated, Pregnancy Kink, First Kiss, Making Out, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Anal Fingering, Kidnapping, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Cameos, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mutilation, Oral Sex, Sex, Rough Sex, Technically Anal Sex, Roux - Freeform Series: Part 4 of Roux-verse Summary:

At thirty, Will Graham is finally evolving into his adult form, much to his consternation and his father's delight. But to Ezra Graham's absolute dismay, his emotional boy still refuses to hunt, feeling far too connected to the humans he grown up amongst. But at a hundred, the elder Graham know he's entering the last chapter of his life and won't be able to hunt for his fickle son for much longer.

No, what his boy needed was a dominant mate to whip him in shape.

It would be difficult. The Roux-Ga-Roux was a dying breed even in the old countries and were far more sparse here in the New World. But Ezra refused to be intimidated. If they left a big enough calling card, surely someone would come. To his utter surprise he finds two (two!) rather fine specimens responding.