happy birthday timmy~

The Batkids on Tim's birthday

Dick: Wakes up at 3am to sneak into Tim’s apartment and wake him up by screaming “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TIMMY!!” at the top of his lungs and gets knocked out when Tim reflexively punches him in the face

Barbara: Bakes his favorite cake and calls up everyone in the batfam and orders them to wish Tim a happy birthday or she’ll kill them

Jason: Calls at some point to wish Tim a happy birthday and also to inform him that he hid a confetti bomb somewhere in Tim’s apartment but doesn’t remember where, so if it blows up at some point and it rains birthday confetti everywhere then just know that that was from Jason

Tim: Forgets until somebody has to remind him

Cass: Won’t stop hugging him the whole day and gets him really sweet gifts because she’s a literal angel

Steph: Is as excited as Dick and insists on taking Tim out to do fun birthday stuff all day, and when they go to dinner she tells the waitress that it’s Tim’s birthday so the staff all sing happy birthday to him because she knows how embarrassed he gets

Damian: “I got you a rock” “What, why?” “How dare you! I’ll have you know I picked this out specifically for you. God, you’re so ungrateful”

3

Happy Birthday to David Dastmalchian, an amazing and humble human being who is passionate about acting, comic books, his family & his fans.

5

The Fairly OddParents premiered 15 years ago today! 

Along with SpongeBob SquarePants, Butch Hartman and F.O.P. built a bridge between the Klasky-Csupo years at Nick and our creator-driven present day. It’s our second-longest running Nicktoon (141 episodes and counting) and including its days in Oh Yeah! Cartoons, the show has now been a part of Nick Animation for over 70% of our existence!

Happy birthday to Cosmo, Wanda, Timmy, Vicky, Mr. and Mrs. Turner, Mr. Crocker, Poof, Sparky, Chloe, and the entire Dimmsdale crew!!!

  • Jason: So er Happy Birthday? I got the right day right? How old are ya now? 18? 19?
  • Tim: I'm 17 Jason
  • Jason: ....
  • Jason: Um wasn't that last year? I'm sure it was you who was 17 last year? I distinctly remember leaving you but ass naked on top of Lady Liberty?
  • Tim: I'm 17 every year.
  • Jason: ...
  • Tim: I'm 17 okay? Deal with it! Look at the statistics!! So far out of the Robins 50% have ended up mentally unstable after the age of 17 so I have decided to always be 17 and beat the system.
  • Jason: Hey! Dickie sure, but I'm -
  • *Not looking up from his laptop Tim waves sectioning papers in the air*
  • Jason: Seriously? How'd you even get those?
  • *Looks around the bomb site that is little brother's room. Notes the mountain of coffee cups and snacks that have formed a small pile around Tim. Notes the bags under his eyes.*
  • Jason: Yeah, Kid cause you're totally digging the functioning thing.
  • Tim: Pardon?
  • Jason: Happy 17th Birthday Bro!!
Birthday Sex {Tim Drake X Reader}

Request: Nah

Prompt(s): From 100 Prompt List 91-  “You gotta stop doing that.” “What?” “Saying things that make me wanna kiss you.” 96- “I hate you.” “Why? I’m lovely.”

Warning: Smut

A/n: Prompt changed to  “You gotta stop doing that.” “What?” “Doing things that make me wanna kiss you.” HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TIMMY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!

Tagging: None.


It was Tim’s birthday and how did he want to spend it? On the computer and patrolling. What a kid. Thankfully, he had his lovely girlfriend, (Y/n), to stop him. The other boys knew Tim needed a break and none of them were going to get through to him.(Y/n) was their best option. 

(Y/n) had arrived at the manor around 9:30 in the evening after getting ready to make sure Tim didn’t go out on patrol tonight and stayed off the computers. Sometimes she wondered how he didn’t have bad eyesight. But none the less, when she arrived, she was greeted by the friendly butler, Alfred.

“Ah, Miss (L/n), nice to see you arrived. I presume you are here for Master Tim.” Alfred inquired

“Yes,” (Y/n) responded, “Where is he?”

“Up in his room. Master Bruce has band Tim from using the bat computer today. I assume he has restored to using his laptop.” Alfred answered as the young lady walked in and headed towards the stairs after thanking the elder English man.

(Y/n) walked straight to Tim’s room and opened the door to see the raven haired boy on his bed… with his laptop. She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. Tim looked up from his computer screen and looked at his girlfriend.

“Hey.” He said closing his laptop and setting it aside

“Happy birthday.” (Y/n) replied jumping onto his bed and sitting in front of him.

“You plan to stay here and make sure I don’t go on patrol?” He asked

“It’s your birthday, Tim. Take one night off. For me.” She told him

“Fine.” He said

“Thank you.” She squealed and hugged him.

“You gotta stop doing that.” Tim said hugging her back

“What?” She questioned, pulling away from him

“Doing things that make me wanna kiss you.” Tim answered her and took in her features

(Y/n) smiled at him and leaned in towards him. Tim leaned in as well and was quickly denied the kiss from his girlfriend to get a peck on the nose.

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PREY

Tim is perched on a roof with his legs hanging off the edge, watching the way the clouds pass over the moon like smoke.

His patrol ended long ago, but it’s the kind of night that begs to be spent lounging under the weight of its darkness, listening to the way the wind whistles through high risers in an eerie lull.

A song of the dead calling to the dead. The streets of Gotham continue on, oblivious and dangerous in their ignorance as always. 

Tim thinks it hasn’t been a bad year, not exactly. Same scars, different places. New faces, old conversations. The same dull aching that pulses in tune with his beating heart, no matter how hard Tim tries to bury it in false promises and empty threats.   

A revolution. A reckoning.

Tim wants to crack the earth open, but all paths lead to the same, listless circle, back to where everything started for him. A maze with no center, just endless wrong turns and dead-ends.

The flash of Robin’s resigned smile against bloodstained pavement. The same cruel twist of lips the first time Tim snapped a photo of Red Hood.

A relentless pursuit of the one person that shaped the course of his life so effortlessly, so carelessly, even when his lips still can’t form the shape of that name. A year, and longer, and still Tim can’t shake the ghostly hold that shining red mask had left on his equally crimson heart.

Not love.

No shining, laughing happiness or birds singing. No stupid flash mobs of dancing and no glamorous dinners. Just varying shades of darkness and an oppressive, feverish fog coloring everything Tim did—and most powerfully, the things he didn’t do. 

But a kindred hopefulness, such a bone deep understanding that Tim could imagine for a minute how the universe must have been created.  

A shadow falls onto him from behind. He’d been expecting—waiting—for it, after all.

“How old are you?” A voice like breaking glass. He can feel the splinters cutting through his skin, and in some twisted way it warms him. A zing of adrenaline shoots through his body, the kind that only means one of two things—it’s time to fight or fuck.

Tim doesn’t feel much like either.

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.” Tim can hear something creeping into the warmth of that voice, and he doesn’t like the way it starts to make him break open like a fresh wound.

There’s a silence while Tim pictures Jason standing behind him, tall and solid, and he knows the facts. It’s his birthday, and they’re looking at the same moon on top of the same roof in the middle of downtown Gotham, but not what it means. 

Did Jason look older? Had he grown into a stranger? Did his violence color his face and hands, making him red?

“But still,” Jason says, and Tim can feel him move closer from the warmth that starts to pool into his lower back. “You’re forgetting one important part of birthdays.”

Tim feels the toe of Jason’s boot push into his back, until he turns his face to the side, catching him from the corner of his eye. “What’s that?”

Jason crouches in one swift movement, his body leaning so closely into Tim’s space that he wants to flinch back. But he remains stubbornly still, lets Jason trace his jaw with steady fingers until he feels him brush over his Adam’s apple and down the side of his neck.

A rough thumb strokes his collarbone with the precision of a man setting his scope and readying the trigger.

“Come on, Timmy,” he says, tilting his chin up so that Tim can see his maskless face. Those dark blue eyes, usually so steely and cold, are open and studying the planes of Tim’s face. “Even rich boys know that you get one wish on your birthday.” 

And it’s the worst thing that Jason could have ever said. There’s a wanting trying to claw its way up Tim’s throat, as slow and natural as the changing of seasons. 

“What’s the matter?” Jason presses, and Tim can smell him, like he’s standing at the mouth of a dark alley.

It takes all his willpower to yank his face from Jason’s cold hands. “I can’t think of anything.”

Nothing more than staying like this, forever.

“Maybe you want to blow out the candles first?” For a wild moment, Tim thinks that Jason is about to take his hand and press it against his chest and then down, to the heat between his legs.

But he doesn’t do anything, just stares until Tim’s throat goes dry. “I can’t think of anything,” Tim repeats and feels like he’s swallowing around the barrel of a gun. 

“Can’t or won’t?”

There’s a rush of air as Jason stands, one fluid motion that makes Tim snap his neck up. He’s all but kneeling at Jason’s feet, a position he’s been fighting for most of his life. 

Jason’s fingers are back, running down Tim’s arm until he finds his wrist. He pulls Tim up so that he’s standing in front of him, on the edge of the roof. Then brings his hand up, slowly removing Tim’s glove until his fingers are bare under the moonlight.

“Jason,” Tim warns. Pleads. Promises. He isn’t in control of his voice any more than wearing a watch makes him in control time.

Jason shuts his eyes for a moment at the sound of his name. It’s something Tim hasn’t said out loud in a long time–maybe not ever. When his eyes snap open, Tim sees something like his own soul reflected there.

But there aren’t any words, not for either of them, as Jason brings Tim’s hand to his mouth. He ghosts along the skin with hot, humid breath until his lips are hovering over Tim’s wildly beating pulse. Jason’s eyes never leave his.

And then he presses his lips to the inside of Tim’s wrist, achingly slow and hard. 

Tim feels like Jason’s mouth is filled with live wires, burning into his flesh and filling him up with an electric heat.  

No wishes, just the sound of electricity crackling in the spaces between their bodies, gentle and rhythmic, a magnetic field molding around the places where they’re connected.

Jason kisses his wrist again and again, letting his lips do the talking. Tim is trapped in the silent words Jason brands into his skin, and rooted to the spot when he feels Jason’s teeth scrape lightly over his pulse.

Maybe he didn’t get his wish, but it’s true that no one delivers birthday presents quite like Jason Todd. 


TBC - on AO3

It’s an Economic Downturn, Timmy

Happy Birthday @generatorcat! Yay for 23!!! You are one of my favorite authors in this fandom and I wanted to show some appreciation!!  I hope you have a fabulous day and that this little piece can possibly get you off to a great start! <33

(S/O to @drabblemeister for being my cheerleader when my self-esteem is feeling especially delicate haha ilu)

AO3 Link

Pairing: JayTim (mentioned CassieKon)

Rating: T, for discussion of mature themes

Word Count: 3.7k

~~~

As far as first impressions went, Tim’s was sudden, unwarranted, and above all, intensely embarrassing. In fact, he might even go so far as to say that never in his life had his mind been so utterly at odds with his body. If he could have redone a single moment in his life over again, he never would have woken up today. Instead, he would have slept in, skipped class, and been blissfully ignorant of the way the life of his unlucky doppelganger from an alternate universe changed so dramatically in the space of ten seconds.

Because let’s be real for a moment here; getting a hard on out of nowhere because the new TA did nothing more than walk into Econ 405 and run his fingers through his hair while he introduced himself , literally nothing else, was possibly, probably, most definitely the epitome of humiliation.

“I’m so screwed.”

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