pridefulxraven:

“If you want to talk, please go talk to someone else.” Raven spoke calmly as she sat in front of the large window, feeling someone enter the room. She was using a polite tone of voice, but a small hint of irritation was still apparent. “It’s been a long day and I would very much like to have some peace and quiet. If it’s not too much to ask.”

Talking? Yeah, not super high on the list of things he wants to do. Tim wants peace and quiet and he wants the stillness in his head, the calm he can force himself into if he’s given time to bury his feelings somewhere to deal with later. ( Or maybe not deal with. ) He would go to Cassie or Kon if he wanted to talk, called Dick if they weren’t in the mood to prybar his outer shell open.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Raven.” He says, idly fingering the tablet in his lap to life.

“I just thought– well, not even Bart is going to take the chance of disturbing both of us at the same time.”

       “But– I can find another hiding place if you need me to.” 

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?

90superboy:

【Ｓ】”T’ch! It’s gonna get robbed either way when I kick Mr. Red Riding Hood’s ass.”

Despite the aggression of his words, the kryptonian held a fond smile
upon his face. “You should be putting your time into something more
productive. Like being my cheerleader! I usually reserve that privilege to
babes, but meh. You’re short and girly enough to get away with it.” He
teased.

“ Also for the record, whenever you say ‘Mr. Red Riding Hood’ for a good half second I think you’re talking about Jason. And on that note– you’ve never threatened to beat him up to defend my honor, so I think I’m actually a little hurt. I mean, at the very LEAST I would go and like–egg somebody’s house for you. “ 

It was of course, a joke but Tim would definitely go off and do something stupid for Kon’s sake. He had before, it seemed sometimes to him that all Kon had to do was smile in that sharp wicked way of his, say Tim’s name and he was already groaning and agreeing to something that would probably be a bad idea.

“ All I heard was ‘blah blah blah you’re good-looking’ and ‘I want you to be my cheerleader’. You can’t afford me on pom-pom duty, believe me.” 

90superboy:

【Ｓ】”Don’t see why not.”

Superboy had a ton of redeeming qualities but his stubborness was
not always one of them. The boy could have the hard head of a rock
sometimes. “I tried talking to the jackass—-but then he just went on and
on! Dissing my look! My face! And then my girl. Oh yeah…now that was 
just one step OVER the line. I can’t let that go, Tim.”

“ And THAT right there is why I am not going to waste my list of perfectly good reasons as to why it’s a bad idea to go toe to toe with Mr. Douchepool. Because you have a Kryptonian hard head and sometimes I just have to let the dog chase the car, and hope he learns a good lesson from it. “

Tim is pointing at Kon but there’s no malice or scorn– or even real judgement in that tone. Just some wariness, layered with concern and more fondness than he frankly felt comfortable having for his best friend.  

“ But if I didn’t go on the record as saying that it’s a terrible idea– than I can’t tell you that I told you so later. Please don’t rob me of my smug satisfaction it’s one of my few life joys. “

90superboy:

“My friend you’ve seriously got to get out of the cave more often.”
The hero shakes his head at his clueless companion before walking
off. “When’s the last time you talked dirty to someone anyways?”

Tim refuses to blush– even if he can only half manage to do so successfully. He doesn’t want Kon to have the amused satisfaction of his embarrassment. Kon is already self satisfied enough.He doesn’t need more of a reason. Tim’s had a lot of girlfriends but– okay, he’s being honest, not much in the way of physical…intimacy. That part is….harder.

“ I get out of the cave. Stop making it sound like I’m a weird homeschool kid from a religious cult. “

Tim totally has a girlfriend, Kon should be 100% jealous. Because Steph is beautiful and feisty. ( Tim is also pretty sure that if he tried to talk dirty to her, she’d punch him in the face. He could dodge it of course but–he’d rather she didn’t TRY. )

@90superboy

“…Yeaah….sure….?”

“ I– uh. “

kon was giving him that look, the same one he gave him every time he said anything like that. the one that said ‘good god tim, you are such a bat-child’. 

“ What? That’s not how normal people do it? “ 

verspertiliocanis:

@birdbraiin​

Ace watched as Timothy continued to type on the
horrible laptop stealing all his attention. The old 
dog snorted, pulling himself up on the couch 
with a bit of effort before flopping down on 
top of Timothy’s lap and the warm computer.

tim would perhaps admit– under pain of torture, maybe– that he tended to get a little….intensely focussed. it wasn’t his fault though, he’d always been the type to have a brain that sort of fully committed to whatever he was doing. tim was great at a lot of thing– multitasking? not so much. 

so he’s not all that surprised when ace decides to sprawl across, his lap, computer still open and all. he looks down at those big guileless dog eyes, the slightly tilted head. 

“ do you have any idea how expensive that laptop turned dog-bed is? “ he asks, mildly. though obvious tim has designed the computer for higher impacts than a dog.  but still, he felt it was a point he had to make, even if ace didn’t understand. 

still he scratches behind one perked up ear.

@nightlegacy

he’d invited dick over on the pretense of pizza & brotherly bonding, but he’s pretty sure that dick sees through that. dick’s been worried about him for a while and tim can’t say that it’s not– unwarranted, exactly.  it doesn’t mean that tim wants him to be concerned. 

he’s been through a lot. tim doesn’t know sometimes how he still keeps standing– other than it just being what he does. survival instinct, the batman philosophy of continuing until you were stopped is…an enduring lesson. maybe that & the shock of it all keeps him standing. keeping him numb from everything– the growing pain, keeps out everything but the suffocating feeling of weight that seems to grow, hanging his shoulders. 

steph, dad, conner, bart. it was all too much. and then seeing that–that perversion of his own self again. seeing conner die–again, by his own hand, even if it was an evil version of his best friend. it was still– terrible.

but hey–dick came and that makes everything, just a bit more manageable. reminds him he still has people in this world who care about him, who have his back. who’ll be there for him when he calls.

   “ do you ever get sick of– of the way we were trained? “ tim asks, faux casual, slurping a string of mozzarella into his mouth. 

     “ i mean, the failsafes & contingency plans. “