#tinyterbear

[gothamcreation-blog]

Words we Understand

tinyterbear said: Seeing as I’m not planning on starting to adopt troubled kids I don’t really know how much good ‘dealing with Dick Grayson’ training is going to do.

Dick knows what I expect. Maybe he can put it in words you will understand and if he can't, I'll send Tim. He can talk suicidal teenagers off of ledges, so he can talk to you.

[gothamcreation-blog]

Little Books for Punks

Bruce tracked down Terry’s location, it didn’t surprise him the young man was living in Wayne Tower. He made a mental note not to make any comments about it, either. My goal here is to establish open communication with Terry and learn more about him, he thought, making sure he was clear of what he was doing. He knew something about this young man baited him, made him want to stalk up and yank him off his feet and shake him until he was like a rag doll, all limp and compliant. At the same time, he hoped Terry’s defiant nature went deeper than a bad attitude and resentment towards authority figures. He wanted to believe there was more to this boy. He had to believe it.

Bruce rapped on the door and waited. He had given the boy a 24-hour cool down, which he felt was more than generous. So was the fact he came here. He knew this young man was not Dick, he might not drift back to the manor eventually or fake running into him on a rooftop just to have a few glancing blows of dialog. Bruce couldn’t take the chance and he hated the feeling of not knowing someone who knew him, his secrets. I hate time travel and dimensional shifts, he frowned. He’d had more of it lately than he could bare. Pain in the ass. Headache. Always. Every time.

He had brought with him one of the first edition books from his personal collection. A tiny book but one, extremely rare, and to most people worth a great deal of money. It’s worth, to a Wayne, was negligible. It’s worth to Bruce, emotionally, was great. He knew the very book, more than it’s name, it had been the third book he had acquired after his parents died and he remembered how feverishly he had searched for it, Robert Boyle’s Skeptical Chymist: or, Chymico-Physical Doubts and Paradoxes. Dated 1661. How long the wait felt for it to arrive in the mail. The walk to the mail-box with Alfred. The feel of that thick brown paper which wrapped it. He had wrapped it, again, with similar paper and thin red string, only enough to keep his choice of wrapping-paper attached. This collecting of first edition books was something he had shared with the children he’d taken in, some of them had taken to it more than others. He’d see how this one fared.

When the door opened, Bruce lifted the small wrapped book like he was a college student with the world’s smallest pizza as some peace offering for entry but his face held no smile, his eyes no wideness of curiosity. He was dressed to the gills, his black hair combed back. His shoes polished. The cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt clamped down tight at his wrists and his slate suit coat folded over his arm as if it had been ironed there. “Ready to talk?”

[jasontoddwayne-blog]

Its Dark In the Batcave

Then again anything in Gotham is dark. Actually he's sure Gotham could be used as a synonym for dark these days. How's the Weather? Gotham. And seriously getting drugged is great for dealing with the pain and all, but ain't gonna help making sense of things. 

"And I thought I wasn't out of it before ugh"

Where is now.

He's in the Batcave. Great.

Jason arches up. His muscles ached.

Bandaged and cookies on the side.

Alfred.

"Cass?"

no reply. Even better.

Cass patched him up at the Batcave? And she left him here!?

From the farther corner of the cave, a slender shadow approaches. Alright scratch that, too deep, he just can't see shit. And fuck its hard to get up.

Definitely not Cass, and too small to be Bruce. Closer now, nope that ain't R2d2 or the Wingster.

He's never seen him before. More adopting Bruce? Really? 

No, this man, boy, er actually from up close the stranger couldn't be much older than Tinybird. Too old to be Robin, unless the little demon brat was too much for dear old dad to handle...

"What do you want kid?  Never saw the injured before?"

[gothamsfinestbutler-blog]

I'll just have to figure out when you sleep, then sneak into the manor and clean then.

I have been doing my job longer than you have been alive, Master Terry. When you are a person of my age, nothing gets past you.

You can sporting well try, though. Just be ready to get caught. :)

[gothamsfinestbutler-blog]

Okay, okay, I'll come to dinner! Geez! You're not talking me out of not being helpful, though. I call dibs on dishes duty.

Ah, yes. Very goo- Oh, you are most certainly not doing the dishes! No! I will not stand for it! I- well, I suppose I could compromise. But next time you visit, no helping!

[gothamsfinestbutler-blog]

Haha, I figured. You got his whole life to figure out how to trick him, I've only been doing it for the past 2 years.

Yes, when you have been a part of Master Bruce's life ever since you heard his first cries, there aren't exactly things that you don't know.

Getting the upper hand on him is easily done. If you ever need any tips, you know who to ring! (Oh, and you better come to dinner.)

[gothamsfinestbutler-blog]

I dunno what he's like in this time, but ya might have to trick him. That's what I have to do sometimes when he's being real stubborn back in my time.

I don't usually boast but, my dear chap, no one can trick Master Bruce with as much proficiency as I can.

[gothamsfinestbutler-blog]

I'm trying to get the old man -- I mean, Mr. Wayne -- to go to a doctor. Would you mind dropping me a line if he doesn't?

Ah, quite so. I advise Master Bruce now and again to be examined, but he just doesn't see fit to the idea. Don't worry my good man, if he needs to make a visit, then by golly I will make certain that he does, or my middle name isn't Jarvis. I'll make sure to ring you.