@gunsandhoods

somewhere there’s probably a list of things that a twelve year old boy ought to be doing. 

( really long– possibly novel length. )

nowhere on that list is the entry - ‘huddled into an overlarge sweatshirt on a non-descript gotham rooftop playing personal paparazzi for batman & robin.’ tim doesn’t have normal hobbies, but tim’s never thought of himself as normal anyway– so at least he’s not suffering any delusions about it. 

he isn’t sure he was ever going to be– normal, that is. he knew early though, because there weren’t any other kids in his elementary school class pouring over sherlock holmes like it contained some fundamental self-awareness. he’s also reasonably certain he’s about the only civilian of any age who knows the real identities of batman & robin. well, the first robin was the first puzzle piece and once he’d known that it’d been easy enough with some access to public court records. 

this robin isn’t the same, but tim is just as taken with him. the camera likes him is what it is ( what tim tells himself at least ), magnetic quality to his seeming unceasing movement. always moving, trailing the bright yellow cape behind him like the tail of a comet. and tim is smiling, just a little as he adjusts the focus of the lense and there’s nothing but the click – reel – click – reel sound of the film through the camera.

& it’s probably kind of sad– that he lives for nights like this. just him and his camera but he’s not l o n e l y here, even though nobody even knows he’s there. but he feels like– like he’s part of something, part of the batman story. like he’s got a secret, something he can carry around and horde away like a dragon, something to make him special- important. 

( it’s not like he feels important at home. but – he’s not bitter about that. his parents are busy, they’re important. tim understands that. )

but he’s spent too much time wool gathering his own thoughts because suddenly robin is swinging in his direction. tim scrambles back from the ledge–practically ripping open the zipper on his bag to try and get the camera back in and away. 

     and yes, alright– tim’s most prized possession is his camera.

                                           okay– that’s slightly pathetic. 

knightcaped:

@birdbraiin

‘we don’t know anything about them,’ there’s a frustrated edge to his tone that he doesn’t quite intend to let out here, a few armor plates and cowl tossed tossed aside. his hair is a salt-n-pepper, disheveled mess–greasepaint haphazardly washed from around worn bags under his eyes as he looks over tim’s shoulder at the monitor. ‘that partial thumb print got us nowhere, the saliva sample only gave their blood type. have you found anything since we last spoke over the comms?’ 

it’s two AM but it’s a saturday night–there’s no school and patrol had gone on unintentionally longer than usual, though proved fruitless. upon kgbeast’s capture, there’d been a string of busted human trafficking rings in the same manner. the bugs the vigilante had planted at a strip club on the east side turned out to be useless for the night too–no sign of it being a brothel, as he’d expected. it was a disappointment, and so the evening turned into one too. he doesn’t mean to take it out on tim, but frustration and his temper eat away at him and it’s so easy–years have thinned his patience. 

tim can’t help but wince, body going tight and tense with every flint sharpened word that comes rolling off bruce’s tongue. he’s getting better at hiding it though, a short lifetime of experience of lying– playing at normal for his parents- his housekeeper, even his friends to a certain extent. never talking about why he never wants to hang out at night, why he’s always busy ‘studying’ if they ask.

truth be told, he used to wonder if he was missing out on something. he doesn’t wonder anymore.

tim knows who he is and who he wants to be, and that’s more than most adults know about themselves. 

he’s going to be robin.

if he can ever convince bruce that he’s ready, that he’s made himself ready, but until then it’s computer jockey duty and a comm set in his ear and digging through digital records until he’s got to squint his eyes to make them focus.

“ bruce. we’re going to– you’ll figure this out. i know it. don’t get discouraged. “ tim says and summons up a smile, small & tired but full of all that belief he’s had for batman, for both the man and the much bigger mythos of him.

tim nods, maybe to bruce, maybe to himself. 

“ anyway, that’s not the only thing we know. ran some more tests on that sample, trying to see if there was anything else it could give us. turns out, our guy has hepatitis c. not overly rare in the criminal element, what with the questionable hygiene of prison tattoos. “

he produces a sheet of paper with a name and address with a bit of a flourish. 

“ but i have a lead for you. now c’mon, ask me how. “ tim says, maybe a little too much eagerness in it. but he’s not trying to brag he just wants to prove that he’s got what it takes to be his partner. a real partner.

cowledcrusade:

“—Tim, don’t.” He’s not short with Tim—as easy as it is to forget, Tim’s human, infallible. The evidence of his own flaws can be seen in all the ugly marks on his skin, left almost as a brand for him to remember for the rest of his life. Stumbling is a learning lesson, sometimes painful, and Tim will get up from it. However, tough love is what he’s most familiar with—what works best—so he dishes it out in kind. “What’s done is done. Learn from it. My force of will has all been learned through experiences like yours.”

Busying himself on the other end of the long line of monitors that make up the Batcomputer, he pulls up a file on one of the Maroni underbosses, busies himself with it. A moment of silence follows Tim’s statement, and he pulls his gaze from the screen to look back at him. Sage advice is easy if it’s regarding a battlefield or the killing fields of Gotham, but it’s not quite so when it’s something like this. Emotions. “You’ll be fine. Be straightforward—that’s my advice.”

“don’t what?” tim asks, a little crinkle around his eyes. of course he feels a little guilty, like he’s shirking his duty. tim didn’t like to leave bruce alone, not that bruce couldn’t handle himself– he certainly could, in fact he’d often wondered if bruce even needed him anymore. certainly didn’t emotionally, not like he’d needed him at first, when he’d been in a self-destructive brood spiral. it’s not like that anymore. but if bruce doesn’t tell him to go– tim’s not going to leave.

“ don’t feel guilty that i never planned for this contingency? that i let myself be blinded to a potential threat because it happened to be in the form of my best friend? “ he sighed, slow and weighted.

“–i’m not like, crying inconsolably into my cornflakes or anything but, of course i feel bad. i let myself down and now because of it you’re out there alone without backup, my arm got shattered, cassie has lost her confidence and kon’s back to thinking he’s some kind of frankenstein’s monster. and that’s on me. “

 alright, maybe not totally on him. logically he knows he can’t plan for everything, can’t support the weight of everything wrong in the world on his shoulders. but it’s not like he’s the only one in the family who thinks they have to be responsible for everyone in their little bubble.

tim doesn’t have much left to say after that, didn’t meant to say all that in the first place but the proverbial cat is way out of the bag and he’s only going to look stupid if he tries to shove it back in. 

“yeah, learning experience. got it. now– is there anything you’re working on i can help with? i do still have at least one hand i can lend.” he reminds him, voice small and hopeful. anything to feel a little bit of use can only be good for him at this point.

cowledcrusade:

a long night of patrol–particularly eventful and straining without his robin, much to the joker’s chagrin–leaves bruce worn and aching all over. the stiffness in his neck–smarting suspiciously–is pretty questionable, and the festering wound accurately jabbed between armor plates leaves him a little hunched over. there’s blood on his fingers by the time he drives back to the cave, and the work he does on himself is quick and fine. alfred takes over shortly after he gets the worst of it stitched up. the butler orders him to bed with a hot pad on the back of his neck, though bruce decides to do a little research before retiring for the evening. 

the billionaire, clad in comfortable slacks and no shirt, steps behind his robin–nearly hovers–and watches him dig in the cast he’d specifically been told not to pick at. carefully quiet, he crosses his arms (quickly regrets it, at the sharp prickling pain of stitches in his belly) and clears his throat. 

‘–no excuses, tim.’ bruce says gruffly, stepping beside him to look over the sleek line of monitors, taking a seat with a little strain in the spare chair. ‘stop touching it and ignore it. you’re only going to make it worse, and you’ll have to keep the cast on longer as a result. what have you been doing down here all evening?’

“ slavedriver. “ tim says groaning as he obediently slides the chopstick out– his skin still tickling with the need to itch and scratch until he gets some sense of satisfaction or relief. but none is forthcoming. tim is never breaking his arm again, this is like low grade torture. all he knows is that the next time he goes to titans tower, he is taking up raven on her offer to heal it up quickly for him.

besides, nights like this just prove that bruce needs him out there. even if he doesn’t say so, tim can see it in the slight stiffness to his movements as he sits, nothing like bruce’s usual grace and easy economy of movement. tim winces slightly, in sympathy or in guilt– he’s honestly not sure. probably both. 

“ i’m really sorry, though. “ tim hates being out of commission, he feels useless. he wants to be helpful, doesn’t like just sitting around and waiting.robin is his job, willingly taken & his responsibility. one he takes seriously. 

     “ psh, easy for you to say. mr. i’ve trained my body to obey me down to the cellular level by sheer force of will. “ it’s a joke but– it also sounds like the sort of thing that bruce has managed. always so– perfectly in control.

he shrugs at the question and tries to force himself to relax back into the chair, letting it tip back a little, his slippered feet gently brushing the floor. he wants to lie by omission say that it’s nothing important. but instead he looks at bruce and admits quietly-

        “ looking up how we might make sure kon doesn’t have any other– trigger words floating around his head. also contemplating how i’m going to get him to talk to me about this like a rational adult. but the internet & database don’t have much to say on that second part. “ he tucks his cast up close to his chest. he doesn’t know if bruce will have any wisdom on the matter, or if he’s interested in soothing some of tim’s worries.

@cowledcrusade

it doesn’t hurt really, not anymore. it’s just in the way. giant bulky cast on his arm throws off the sense of balance he’s worked so hard towards. also it ITCHES. ( that’s actually the worst part.) he’s not supposed to itch inside the cast though, because stitches, because surgery. still bruce isn’t a r o u n d to see it, out on patrol which is probably the only reason tim hasn’t been dragged away from his research on the batcomputer already. ( both alfred & bruce have kicked up their maternal instincts since he broke his arm. especially impressive on alfred’s part actually. )

so he snatches one of the chopsticks from his sushi dinner and slides it inside the cast, even if it does smell a little like his spicy tuna roll. sacrifices must be made because the prickle of his skin is starting to drive him nuts. tim’s tongue is stuck between his teeth as he shifts the dull point, almost right where he needs it.

so of course, that’s about the time bruce clears his throat behind him and tim nearly breaks off the end of the chopstick inside his cast when he jumps. 

“ is it truly necessary to give me a heartattack? honestly B, i know i’m not supposed to scratch but i’m literally dying over here ! “ no, tim isn’t being an overly dramatic teeanger, why do you ask?

alluringobsessions:

“Out.” Conner replied, seeing at how Tim was more concern on W H E R E they were going compared to to W H Y he wanted to be with Superboy. He couldn’t really remember a time Conner ever just H A N G out with Tim. And well, he wasn’t C L O S E to the new Robin compare to Dick, Nightwing. Things change and maybe he didn’t W A N T them to change.

He slowly walked out of the quarters that La’gann and M’gann were at. Last thing Conner wanted was to be S T U C K In a room while they confess L O V E to reach other. It was just a blow to his own emotions and past experiences with M’gann. It wasn’t long until Superboy walked himself into the kitchen, spacing out as he A L M O S T forgot how much he wanted to leave, yet something tugged him to stay.

Conner did notice, how Tim tagged along. “You’re still here?” Awkwardly rubbing his neck, he figured he would just     L E A V E him, not follow. He placed his hands upon the kitchen counter, exhaling through his teeth as he took a sharp inhale. “I       don’t know W H A T I’m doing.”

Conner’s got a brusque, explosive kind of anger. A loud bark of monosyllabic bitten off words. But Tim is used to anger, to a loud bark. He’s trained with the villains of Gotham– and they’re a chatty and mentally unstable bunch. Plenty of anger all pent up in one city, precarious balance, sometimes the whole place seems like a powder keg kept on the edge of critical reaction point. Just a little nudge and the city could go into a full on meltdown. Conner just isn’t as scary as living in Gotham could be.

   Oh sure, he’s plenty capable of destruction. As much as any of them. Or all of them together. 

( But he’s a good person, with a good heart– even if he’s got a temper. )

Conner looks surprised upon turning, seeing that Tim had followed. Well, he was about to learn that Tim Drake did not give up on things, not easily. Not when he thought it was the right course of action. It seemed obvious to him that Superboy– that Conner, needed a friend right now. Somebody he could talk to. Or maybe it’s just that Tim gravitates to wounded types, wants to help them, even if there isn’t much he could do. It was pretty much the reason he’d become Robin in the first place.

“ Uh– yeah. I mean, I’m not going anywhere.” He says, almost a surprise to himself until the words are out of his mouth. It sounds right. Conner needs somebody who isn’t going to just– walk away from him. Tim won’t either because he’s stubborn or like that or he doesn’t have the good sense God gave a lemming.

“ Well, I’m not an expert but…I’m pretty sure you’re mourning.”

ironarmored:

               ❛   unless bruce wayne’s suddenly lost a couple inches since the last time we met               you must be  tim drake.  wayne enterprises’ acting CEO.  pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.   ❜

 〉┊ @birdbraiin​

“ just a couple inches?” he teases, polite smile pulling into a small chuckle he wasn’t quite expecting.

     he was warned that tony stark would be charming, but tim’s dealt with charisma before. rubbed elbows with people who had personality’s that could fill up a whole room, but there’s something about the armored avenger that was not in his briefing packet.

tim knows there’s more than a couple inches between his 5′7″ on a good day and bruce’s somewhere over 6′ and built like a nuclear fallout bunker to boot.  ( something that had made tim feel incredibly inadequate in puberty but that was something he did not need to think about in a business meeting. )

“ be careful mr. stark– you keep trying to flatter me like that & i’m going to think you’re trying to butter me up for something. “

handshakes say a lot about a person and tony stark’s handshake is firm, brief but confident in it’s lasting impression. he shakes hands like a man who has perfect control over the details of his self image and how others think of and react to him. it’s a quality tim has long admired in bruce, even if bruce’s is based more of his confidence in his ability to disguise himself, wearing personality traits like an actor might don a costume. tony’s is  so– genuine. not a fabrication, but perhaps a slight emphasis. 

     “ i assure you, the pleasures all mine. “ this is not a lie, tim’s long respected iron man’s bravery and ingenuity. in fact if he hadn’t been so personally invested ( read: mildly obsessed ) with the batman mythos as a young boy, he probably would’ve been a much bigger fanboy for iron man.  

sxfetynet:

   Now, there was the truth. 
Youths spent in service to shadow had shaped 
them into something more. Something all together
else. He’d challenge anyone, anywhere to be 
half as good at what they did with nothing 
more than what they were. Bats had at least 
got a few things right over the course of a long, 
and largely unenviable career. 

                ❝Oh yeah? And who taught you how to 
                  make it look so damn easy?❞

A joke. Even if there was more than an ounce of 
honesty to it. Tim is a hero in his own right, long
having outgrown the mantle of Robin. Even if 
he retained the name in a sense, he had well 
and truly made Red Robin a name to be 
equal parts feared and respected. 

                    ❝I was just out for a stroll, caught wind 
                      that lil bro was moving up the east 
                      side, thought I might drop by. See how 
                      you were doing.❞

He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, one
betrayed by that smile. 

                           ❝But you know. The Batman damage.❞

A cursory glance was paid to the perp by his 
brother’s feet, tilting his head to the right, 
then left. The night was wearing thin around
the edges, but he hoped that it was not 
quite done yet.

                       ❝Got enough juice for one last run with 
                         your big brother?❞

back before dick was dick to him, and somebody he considered a brother, he’d been robin. the first robin. & he’d been tim’s hero in a way that made him blush and squirm to even think about now. he’s grateful that dick never knew the extent of that, it’d be weird if tim suddenly ended up having all kinds of– emotional moments with everybody. that was the great thing about the batfamily really– they all just KNEW about your affection, took it and nobody had to really acknowledge it or talk about it until shit absolutely hit the fan. (which— it was gotham && that tended to happen more than any of them liked. )

in any case, there is still something about dick’s honest praise of him that makes tim feel like the 10 year old fanboy who used to have a robin poster on his bedroom wall. even if that often seems like a lifetime ago and not the 7 or so years it’d actually been. but there is heat suffused across his high cheekbones and he’s grateful the cowl covers most of it. 

      anything else he has plausible deniability as it’s a crisp fall evening and it tends to get windy on rooftops. 

“ that part is all me, actually. “

he says it with the playfulness & amusement of false bravado, the tone of brothers razzing one another like they’re not the fully grown mature men they are and are instead the boys they all once were. 

       “ unfortunately, you just can’t teach greatness. “ he says, trying for stoic and missing because dick gives him a look and he can’t help the little snicker that cracks through. 

just like that it seems there is much less formality to the whole encounter, which is something that tim is all too happy and eager to blame on dick. he was the…warm one, of the family and everybody knew it. the one who could bring out the levity and the softer blurred edges of all of them. even bruce wasn’t immune to it. 

“ mmm. the batman damage. “ he confirms, a language that needs no further explanation because all of the robins are fluent in it by now. 

though tim feels his smile slip slightly in concern, something about the tone and the language dick is using is…well, a bit worrying. like he’s planning on going somewhere and he’s not sure for how long. 

“ for you asking? always. but seriously dick, what’s with the choice of words? – you’re sounding like a sentimental and ominous hallmark card. you planning on going somewhere? “ he steps casually over the thug, he’s unimportant. he always was but– even more so in the face of this potential minefield of a conversation. 

alluringobsessions:

L O S T in his own thoughts about M’gann and La’gaan. I T made his B L O O D boiled, it was       at least to him, a complicated but understandable break up. He grew old internally not E X T E R N A L L Y. Someone told Conner he was like Peter Pan and he S T I L L had no clue what that meant, if he had time maybe he’ll look it up later. Another superhero? Probably not.

S O M E T H I N G pinged at Superboy hearing when an all too familiar voice started to talk. Conner rolled his eyes at hearing Tim statement. “D O you like being a narrator of my life? W R O T E a book yet?” Crossing his arms, he exclaims. “La’gaan lucky I don’t H A V E any more Lex shields.” Needless to say, he didn’t W I S H to get get anymore.

Turning away from M’gann and La’gaan he was more focus on Robin now. “Let’s go.”

Conner turns his head toward him sharply, like a dog at a sudden whistle or ringing of a dinner bell. He’s still frowning, dark brows furrowed over eyes that are– far more intense than Tim was figuring they’d be. That was as somebody with vast experience on intense focussed stares. After all, he was the protege of Batman & he’d ended up that way by going to Bruce’s front door and telling him he knew his secret vigilante alter ego. So Tim’s been on the receiving end of the intense focus and measuring stare to pretty much end them all. This one still kind of makes the hairs on his neck stand on end, gaze like a jolt of static electricity into the air around him. Words kind of…dry up on his tongue. He falters visibly for a moment, at a loss for the words he thought he had right there in his throat. “Uh– I– no?” Hates the hesitance and lack of surety in his voice. He absurdly– wants to apologize. Tell Conner he didn’t mean anything by it. Just that he– that Tim noticed him, that he knew it couldn’t be the easiest situation for him. He just…wanted to remind him that Conner may have lost a girlfriend but, he hadn’t lost a team.

He’s not really sure how much good or comfort that counts for right now though. Tim probably should have nudged Dick in Conner’s direction. Conner knew Dick, better at least than he knew Tim. Though Tim felt like sort of a expert on all of them– if only from observation if not interaction. But’s he’s always been better at studying people– parsing them out– than he was at actually talking to them. 

“ Where exactly are we going? “ 

sxfetynet:

@birdbraiin liked this for a short starter: Sтιℓℓ Accєρтιηg

              ❝You do good work.❞

He’s been following him for a while 
now, a deeper shade of shadow 
chasing the red & gold streak of 
sunlight; a silent observer to Red
Robin’s most recent patrol.

It’s a game, as it has ever been. 
Whether or not Tim feels inclined 
to play, remains to be seen. 

                          ❝Come a long way, Timbo.❞

nightwing was good at what he did, don’t get tim wrong. but none of the bats could really sneak up on tim, save bruce & damian. though not even bruce could manage it all the time. still dick was more– open. tim also thought that part of the circus boy in him rebelled at trying to be invisible all the time. either way tim had realized that dick had been casually following him through his nightly patrol. dick had probably known that he’d known– it was the sort of oddly bat family interaction that made people like kon give him the look and fondly call him a ‘weirdo’. 

      ( & his best friend did have a certain point there. )

he looks up from the unconscious thug, already done up in zip ties, practically gift wrapped for the GCPD. he smiles through his cowl, adding a little unnecessary flourish with the bo staff as he presses a little hidden button letting the thing shrink down to a manageable size.

“ well…i did learn from the best. “ he didn’t just mean bruce–but also dick & babs, even helena and the titans. lessons taken from all of them. 

       “ so is there a reason you’re stalking me instead of just ringing me up like a normal big brother? or are we all just that special kind of batman damaged that we can’t just say ‘ hey bro, i miss you.’? ” of course, that last part was at least 90% rhetorical.