#it's my hc that Tim's robin went through hell

[brucewaynehater101]

Just read a fic about Tim finally getting post patrol ice cream and his own renovated room after admitting to never getting any unlike his siblings and now I'm imagining an AU

Imagine this, Tim is tired, pulling an all nighter, because he did too poor a job at pretending as Robin, and it's too late to do damage control. Not in front of villains or heroes alike

But the people

They've caught onto how the third robin receives less than the first two

Robin acts less like a child, less like a son to Batman, and more like a 'Business Partner's as he said with his own words. Like a handler

Robin who has to put work into keeping Batman from overexerting himself, from cruelly punishing those who fall victim to him

Robin who receives less praise or care from Batman and cares for both himself and his "Boss" as he said with his own words

And it gets worse after the mantle passes down to Stephanie and Damian because the people notices how even as Batman treats them better than the third, now rebranded as Red Robin—

—Red Robin is still as much a Business Partner to batman as he always has been since the Dark Knight's loss of his second bird

And as much as tries to keep things buried, word is spreading that Red Robin is black sheep of the batfamily, and he won't be able to hide it for much longer

Have fun with this idea lol

I know the fic you're talking about! "with the exception of..." by DSS1101. That's a good one!

"Home Decor" by sElkieNight60 is about Duke remodeling his room as part of the new Wayne member tradition. This brings up feelings in Tim cause his bedroom still looks like a barely used guestroom.

The concept you've mentioned gives similar vibes to a hc/au post I read about how JJ (Joker Junior) isn't known by anyone but the goons/Rogues, Barbara, Jim, and Bruce. All the other Bats don't know. In consideration of Tim, electric shock weapons are immediately put away when Red Robin arrives on scene (I love that idea so much).

I think, with the Gothamites around when Bruce was going on his grief spiral almost killing spree, people feel a kinship with Tim. They couldn't have stopped Batman and, with part guilt and part relief, it seems only a child could. They watch this child, who seems to be sacrificing everything for a brutal and cruel man, and how he pulls Batman back into the symbol he's supposed to be. It brings out the protective and parental instinct of a lot of people.

This cues civilians, goons, and rogues alike trying to assist Robin in small ways. Tim as Robin had people offering him food (in sealed containers), giving him compliments, handing him scarves or hats (how could Batman let a child out in this weather without a hat?!?!?), and more. They tried to give him small moments to be the child he was pretending he wasn't. He obviously wasn't getting decent parenting at home if Batman was just his boss and his real folks were letting him out to fight.

There's a kind of guilty gratefulness towards the third Robin and a protectiveness of him. All young Bats are treated with care by civilains and some goons, but Robin three was special. He willingly became the barrier between Batman and Gotham. A lot of folks owe their ability to work (and not have exorbiant medical debt and medical conditions) to Tim. He saved them by damning himself. He needed the support Batman obviously wasn't providing.

Tim, as intelligent as he is, doesn't realize the affect he has on Gotham's older population. The younger ones will react with slightly more respect towards him than the other Bats, but they weren't around to see what Tim's sacrifice did for everyone.

Tim, with his self-doubt and hero-worship of his predecessors, thought his treatment throughout Robin was the work of those who came before him. Of course Gothamites trust and help out Robin when Dick and Jason built that foundation.

He's not exactly wrong, but it isn't to the extent they actually do for Tim.

Unfortunately for Tim, Damian and Jason do know that his Robin was treated with such reverence. They don't know why, but their Robins did/do not get treated that way. They chalk it up to Tim being the "perfect" and "can do no wrong" Robin. It's one point of contention they are unable to clear up due to Tim not knowing about it and the other two not wanting to explain their jealousy.

Steph was not treated as well as Damian and Jason when she was Robin. She, in this AU, was not treated as much of a crutch as Tim is. Despite that, her Spoiler/Batgirl/whatever persona gets some of the protectiveness that Tim's personas do. Bruce was more healed with Steph, but he was still an ass. That was obvious to any Gothamite watching.

Steph, because she was around at the time and talks with Gothamites to know what rumors are floating around, becomes aware after her death of why Tim's Robin is held up with such respect. This allows, unknowingly to Tim, for them to reach more understanding. With her knowledge of Tim's time as Robin, she's able to point out how he was being an ass, what he should've done instead, and that she herself was sorry for some of her actions.

When more and more individuals cue into Tim's black sheep position in the Batfam, this could go two ways.

One, Tim is targeted more due to his lack of support.

Two, Gothamites and Rogues increase their aid to Red Robin and become slightly cold to the Bats for their treatment of him.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!! #it's my hc that Tim's robin went through hell #part of the reason tim is great at making friends (even with people who have hurt him) is because he's trying to build Bruce's support grou #steph brown #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne

[jinjeriffic]

DC x DP prompt/ficlet

Throwing my hat in the ring with this idea that has been doing the zoomies in my brain for days. The Tim/Danny Accidental Ghost Marriage to Fake Dating to Friends to Lovers AU:

Pariah Dark was a piece of shit. Before his imprisonment, mortals would sometimes manage to bargain with the Ghost King for scraps of power. One of the "standard" deals was to send PD a "Bride" to play with and feed on (because I HC he feeds on fear and pain) and what better way than a little mortal battery that couldn't get away from him? The deal was sealed with a cursed amulet. Now in one instance, the contract was never fulfilled (maybe the petitioner died before he could complete his half) and the amulet was lost. After Pariah was imprisoned and couldn't make deals anymore the knowledge of the rituals needed was gradually forgotten since they didn't work anymore...

Eventually the amulet gets dug up by archeologists (maybe in Egypt or Mesopotamia?) and ends up in a traveling exhibit in Gotham. A Rogue robs the place (Riddler? Two-Face? doesn't really matter). When the Bats show up to foil the robbery, during the fight with the goons a drop of Red Robin's blood gets on the amulet, there's a blinding flash of green light and the amulet is suddenly glued to him.

While everyone is dazed by the ghostly magic flashbang, Fright Knight pops out of a portal, yoinks Red Robin across his saddle and jumps back through the portal before anyone can stop him. Cue the Bats trying to frantically figure out what in the multi-dimensional occult hell happened and where RR went?!

Meanwhile, Danny is disturbed to receive a ghostly missive in his college dorm to tell him that his Mail Order Bride has been delivered to his Ghost Zone Palace and is awaiting him so they can consummate their Unholy Matrimony.

----------------

Danny: Wtf I have to study I don't have time to get MARRIED

Fright Knight: I'm sorry my liege, but according to the laws of ghosts, gods and magic you already ARE

Danny: Wtf. How did this happen?

RR: I would like to know that too

Danny: Oh shit, you're a superhero. Frighty, you can't just kidnap people! Especially not SUPERHEROES!

RR: While that's good to hear, I would really like to know about this supposed marriage..?

FK: I am not aware of the exact details, I was merely summoned to retrieve the Bride of the Ghost King. There used to be standard magical contracts for this, which went into effect when the Bride bled on the King's Token...

RR: Shit

Danny: Hold on, PARIAH got married? Multiple times??

FK: ...but we can always consult the Royal Archivist, if we can dig him out from under the several thousand years worth of paperwork that piled up while there was no King actively ruling...

Danny: Oh ancients, am I gonna have to deal with that?? I have exams to prepare for, dude!

RR: ...the dead still have to do exams? And paperwork?? *horror*

-------------

Some time and explanations later...

Royal Archivist: It took some digging, but I believe I have found the contract in question. You are one Timothy Drake-Wayne, correct?

Tim: Fml

RA: Ahem. The contract was sealed with your mortal blood, as is standard procedure. Congratulations, you are officially King-Consort of the Infinite Realms! Until death do you part, and all that

Danny: Can I see that contract? ...This isn't in English

RA: Oh dear, looks like we will have to schedule your Royal Highness classes in reading cuneiform/hieroglyphics

Tim: Okay, does it say anywhere in that contract how to dissolve it? What's the procedure for a ghost divorce? Fright Knight mentioned the previous king being married multiple times

RA: Well usually, when Pariah tired of a consort he would simply devour their soul...

Danny: Ewwwww I am so not doing that

Tim: I concur. I can't imagine my soul would taste good anyway

Danny: That's what you took from that??

RA: ...but when you die and your soul passes into the Afterlife proper, the contract will be fulfilled. As long as you're not resurrected again.

Tim: Nuts, there goes that loophole

RA: Until then you are the Consort and duty-bound to fulfill his Royal Highness' every whim; ghostly, spiritual, carnal...

Danny: *sinks through the floor in embarrassment*

Tim: Can't he just... release me from the contract? Take the amulet off me or something?

RA: Not without obliterating your soul, no

Danny and Tim: Fuck

--------------

Some time later, while Danny is away consulting other ghosts on possible ways of dissolving the contract, they discover the nasty little clause that if Tim isn't in regular physical contact with Danny the amulet starts draining his life force. To prevent victims from escaping you see... Danny really really hates Pariah right now.

They eventually return to the mortal plane to explain to the Batfam what the hell is going on and that they're still trying to fix it. In the meantime, Danny can't miss any more classes (studying areospace engineering at MIT or sth) and Tim has to stick close to him because of the curse...

Alfred: Oh dear, looks like Master Timothy will have to go to college after all *unflappable British Smugness*

Bruce pulls a lot of strings to fast track Tim getting his high school diploma and let him attend classes with Danny (he's not officially enrolled yet, but Money, Dear Boy). They never know when Danny has to respond to a ghost emergency or Red Robin to a Bat emergency, so they stay pretty much joined at the hip in their civilian lives. Of course there's gonna be rumors. Why did the Wayne CEO suddenly drop everything to go to college? So they make up a story about Danny and Tim having been secret boyfriends for a while and Tim becoming so smitten that he moves with him to Boston...

Cue the fake dates, interviews with magazines, couple photoshoots to really sell the bit... and the two young men gradually becoming friends... and then "Feelings?? But what do I do?? He was forced into this?" etc.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #tim drake #red robin #danny fenton #ficlet #batman #batfam #accidental marriage #arranged marriage

[camsthisky]

hc: when dick's really stressed he will literally last on an hour or two of sleep a night and neglect to eat like, real meals. i know ur as much of a sucker for dick grayson fluff as i am, i just love the idea of his sibs being like "youre so stupid how are you still alive, even tim eats power bars before patrol and catches catnaps when he's not working on something, why are you like this"

Anonymous asked: “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” with Dick please?

So, sorry I took a few days to get to this headcanon. I kind of ended up turning into a 3k+ story. Hope that’s okay. Also, this is more hurt/comfort than angst, I think. There’s some fluff right there in the middle, too.

Thanks to @timdrakeothy, because without you, I don’t know if I would have had the inspiration to continue this story. I was very stuck, and you helped out without even knowing it. So thanks!

Also, thank for 500 followers (it’s almost 600 now, but I meant to get a milestone fic out ages ago when I hit 500)!

Tim freezes, because he’d thoughthe’d just heard—that’s Dick’s voice coming from down the hallway. Which meansthat Dick is still awake. At four in the morning. After rough patrol that hadlasted hours longer than usual.

Well, that doesn’t spell anything good,Tim thinks, and he creeps down the hallway to peek into Dick’s bedroom throughthe small crack letting soft light spill into the hallway. Tim spots Dickimmediately, and he’s lying on the floor, one hand covering his eyes and theother holding his phone to his ear.

“No,”Dick says vehemently, but he’s really still and tense. He sounds exhausted,though, and his next words come out much softer than that first one. “No. I’mfine. Don’t—No, Wally. It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Dick goes silent, and Tim imaginesthat Wally’s talking up a storm, even at four am. But then—

“Just—chill, Wally,” Dick says into the phone. “If you don’t stop yellingat me, I’m going to hang up. And then if you still want to yell at me you’llhave to find a way into the manor without Bruce finding out. So just—No. No.”

There’s a pause, and Tim thinksthat he should probably start moving. This doesn’t sound like a conversation hewants to be in the middle of. He’s just about to creep down the hallway againtowards his original destination—thekitchen, where he’d accidentally left his laptop—when another bedroom dooropens from behind him. Tim turns around just as Damian storms out, stompingdown the hall towards Tim.

“Whatis going on?” Damian hisses, doing that thing where he thinks he’s the boss ofeverything and Tim is obligated to answer him. But he looks—well. He looks kindof concerned, actually, and this is Dick.

“He and Wally are arguing aboutsomething,” Tim says, nodding towards Dick’s bedroom, where Dick’s conversationhad turned up a couple of notches. “I don’t think he’s tried to sleep tonight,yet, either.”

Damian shoots him a small glare,that Tim doesn’t think is really meant for him. “Grayson didn’t sleep lastnight, either. He was working on a case, he said. And he refused breakfast thismorning when Pennyworth tried to serve it to him.”

Tim blinks. And then he blinksagain, because he can’t believe it’s been so long that he’s forgotten this.Damian—Damian is probably new to this, Tim’s guessing. Dick didn’t have Bruce whilehe was Batman, so he’d probably tried to hide all of those bad habits he hadn’tcared too much about showing Tim. Plus, when Tim had been Robin, Dick hadn’tbeen living with Alfred full-time.

(Of course, Tim’s not really one totalk about bad habits, but at least he takesnaps.)

“What?” Damian asks lowly, darkeyes searching Tim’s face. “What do you know?”

“He—He does this sometimes,” Timsays, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest. This isgoing to take some explaining. “He gets stressed, I guess, and he stops eatingand sleeping. He’s been in Blüdhaven for a while, so he’s probably fallenback into old habits, or whatever.”

Damian’s eyebrow furrow, and helooks—he looks really confused, soTim thinks he probably guessed right about Dick hiding this side of him fromDamian. Well, it was either that or Alfred kept it to a minimum.

“I don’t understand,” Damian tellshim.

Tim shrugs. “He just overworkshimself, and I don’t think he knows how to destress. Me and Alfred used to makehim back when I was Robin.”

“How,” Damian demands, standing upstraighter, a gleam in his eyes. “How do we make Grayson take care of himself?”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Dicksays, poking his head out of his bedroom and settling his gaze on Damian. He’sstill got the phone to his ear, and there’s some amusement sparkling in thosebaby blues, and a little bit in his expression, too, but there’s also darkcircles underneath his eyes that betray his exhaustion. Tim wonders just howlong Dick’s been stressing himself out if those circles are already thatshadowed. And why he hadn’t noticed. It looks like Dick hasn’t been gettingsleep for days.

Wally says something on the otherline. Tim can hear his rushed voice, but he can’t make any words. Dick rolls hiseyes, though. Doesn’t change the exhausted look he’s sporting, but it makes Timfeel a little lighter inside, because they haven’t reached the breaking pointquite yet.

And the breaking point is somethingthat Tim’s only seen once before. He still has chills just at the thought ofseeing his big brother basically shatter to pieces right before his eyes.

“Shut up, Wally,” Dick murmurs. “Iwasn’t talking to you. The baby birds are up.” Tim hears something like a “So are you!” from Wally that’s reallynot hard to pick out, because Wally’s reached screeching levels now. Dick sighsvery long-suffering like, and all he says in response is, “I’ll call you backin a couple hours. Go to sleep.”

And then he hangs up. Tim stares,because Dick Grayson has just hung up on his best friend. One he’s known longerthan probably both Tim and Damian combined.

Dick stares down Damian again. “Okay.Explanations? It’s four in the morning, and I know you have school in the morning, Damian.”

Damian scoffs. “Your inane prattlingwoke me up.”

Dick’s expression softens, and hiseyes go all mushy. “Oh. Sorry, Dami. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s done,” Damian cuts him off,turning away from Dick and folding his arms.

Tim gets the impression that Damianregrets being harsh, but it’s hard to make that thought line up with the imagehe has for the kid in his head. Damian’s not someone he thinks he understands,yet. Too much rage and hate in one tiny little body, and yet. When Damian looksat Dick, it’s like he’s seeing his whole world right before his eyes.

Tim remembers that feeling, too.Before—well. Before Damian, he guesses.

“Right,” Dick says, a gentle,indulgent smile on his face, and Tim—not for the first time—wonders what thetwo of them went through together to be able to communicate like that. Wherethey realize each other’s feelings without really outright saying anything.

It reminds Tim of the way he and Dickused to be, too. Of course, on some level, Tim knows that that level of trustbetween them is still there, but it’s harder to get at now. There are issuesand unresolved problems that have been ignored in the face of getting back tonormal.

And neither Tim nor Dick has tried toattack those issues head on. There hasn’t really been time, considering Tim hadthought Dick was dead up until a couple of months ago.

“And you?” Dick asks, turning hisattention to Tim, a this better be goodexpression on his face, like he isn’t the biggest hypocrite to walk the earthright now.

Yeah, Tim doesn’t always sleep everynight, but at least he knows (mostly) when his body needs some kind of rest, and then Tim will crash. Conk out for a day ortwo. Dick just kind of keeps going until he falls. And even while he’s falling,he’ll still try to keep going at full throttle.

“I was going to get my laptop,” Timsays, still leaning against the wall. “It’s in the kitchen.”

Dick hums. “I think Alfred confiscatedit, actually. He said something about you staying up all night last night usingit.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Tim says,and it’s harsh, but this needs to be stopped in its tracks. He usually wouldn’tintervene, but it doesn’t look like anyone else has even noticed. Hell, upuntil now, Tim hadn’t noticed. So whywould anyone else?

Although, he’d bet his skateboard thatBruce has definitely noticed and just hasn’t figured out how to deal with it,yet. Cass would have probably noticed, too, if she weren’t with Steph onanother mission.

Damian shoots Tim a glare, and Dick’sexpression twists into one of reluctance. “Tim—”

“Don’t you remember last time you letit get this bad?” Tim asks softly, fingers curling into his bicep. He stares atthe floor, because he’s not sure he can stand looking at Dick’s face and mixingup his current expression with the one from his memories. “That was terrifyingto watch, and I don’t want it to happen again.”

Dick sighs, and when Tim glances up,he’s leaning against the doorframe. It’s like all the resistance has left hisbody. He runs a hand down his face. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Tim. I’m just on edge.”

“Let’s watch a movie, then,” Damiansuggests. And Tim and Dick both immediately swing their gaze to Damian, and heshifts under the attention, but he doesn’t back down. He meets Dick’s gaze.“It’s what calms you down, correct?”

Dick looks uncertain, though. “Iguess that might work.”

Damian nods. “Then I’ll get Father.Drake, call Todd and tell him it’s urgent.” And before either Tim or Dick canmake it past their surprise and protest that, Damian has already disappeareddown the hallway and into Bruce’s room, like it’s nothing.

“Did that just happen?” Tim asksincredulously.

Dick huffs a short laugh, soundingalmost in awe of the thirteen year old. The best part, Tim thinks, is that thetightness to Dick’s shoulders have loosened, and he looks a little less woundup than before. It’s incredible what Damian can manage sometimes when it comesto Dick. Tim doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being surprised.

“I think so,” Dick says, and theamusement is back, too. “Better call Jason, or Dami’ll get mad.”

Tim makes a face. “I’m not callingJason at four in the morning to watch a movie.”

“I’ll do it, then,” Dick says, andthen, to Tim’s absolute disbelief, hedoes it. He has a full-on conversation with a barely coherent Red Hood overthe phone, and Dick stays cheerful the entire time. After he hangs up, he sendsTim a grin. “Jason’s on his way over.”

“Good,” Damian says, leading agrumpy looking Bruce down the hall towards them. “Now, we should get thetheatre set up.”

Dick gives Damian an easy grin anda lazy salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Damian throws Dick a glare. “I ambeing serious, Grayson.”

Dick’s grin turns cheeky. “So wasI. Lead on, Damian. You’re in charge of movie—well. It’s not really nightanymore, so I guess you’re in charge of movie morning.”

Bruce grunts his approval, and theyall kind of awkwardly shuffle downstairs to the home theatre and get settled.Damian and Dick argue over which Disney movie to watch, while Tim and Bruce arecharged with popping popcorn. Tim knows the smell of it will probably attractAlfred, but he’s not sure Alfred will really mind all that much once he hearsof the circumstances.

While waiting for the popcorn,Bruce turns to Tim, looking a bit more awake now. “Care to tell me what thisimpromptu movie day is about?”

Tim slumps a little. “Dick’sstressed. But it was Damian’s idea.”

Bruce hums in contemplation. “Iknew about Dick, and I’m not surprised about Damian, but where do you end up inall of this.”

“I heard him talking to Wally.”It’s easier not to look straight at Bruce, so he stares at the hand Bruce haslaid on the counter next to him. “I thought it was just an argument, but hehasn’t been eating or sleeping again.”

Bruce lets out a heavy breath.“Tim.”

“What.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

Tim hunches his shoulders a bit. Heknows that Dick being on edge isn’teven remotely related to him. It’s probably something to do with a case or oneof his friends, based on the fact that he was talking to Wally, but, still, “I should have noticed sooner,” Tim says. “Iknow he likes to pretend like nothing’s wrong when he’s hurting, but I stillshould have at least known that somethingwas off.”

“You’ve been busy, too,” Brucesays. “You can’t shoulder your well-being aswell as Dick’s. There’s no possible way.”

“You do it,” Tim murmurs, finallylooking up. “You find a way to look out for us somehow.”

Bruce grimaces. “Not as well as Iprobably should. Besides, you’re my kids, Tim. You’re my sons, and there’s noway I’m not going to put you above me.”

“Dick puts us all above himself,”Tim says, sagging into the counter.

He’s exhausted. There are so manyissues. This family is so dysfunctional,but somehow, they seem to stay afloat. Not without weathering a few storms,though. And rough ones, at that. And Dick. Dick always seems to hold the weightof the world on his shoulders, and Tim doesn’t understand how he holds thatweight and his family’s well-being.

Maybe, Tim thinks, that’s whymoments like this happen. Maybe that’s why Dick’s so worn down, now.

“He does,” Bruce agrees. “Maybe heshouldn’t, but he does. And there’s no stopping him.”

The microwave beeps, and Tim knowsthat whatever that moment had been with Bruce is over now. Bruce takes the popcornout of the microwave, and Tim goes to walk out of the kitchen, but Bruce’s handon his shoulder stops him. Bruce squeezes it, pulls, and Tim relaxes into thesmall hug Bruce drags him into.

“Thanks,” Tim says, his voice smalland soft as he pulls away. Bruce nods, and they head back into the theatre.

Tim raises his eyebrows at what hesees when he and Bruce enter. The chairs have all been pushed to the side inlieu of a nest of blankets and pillows big enough for ten people that Dick andDamian are settled into. Bruce doesn’t question it, and Tim exasperatedlyfollows Bruce into the nest.

“When’s Jason getting here?” Bruceasks as he settles on the floor next to Dick.

Dick shrugs and leans into Bruce’scomfort when the man throws an arm around his son. “He wasn’t too happy Icalled him, but he said he’d come over anyways. Though, I think his reason wasbecause—”

“I wanna laugh at the Demon Brat’sfirst reaction to a Disney movie,” Jason cuts in, still in his leather jacketand jeans, unlike the other four, who are dressed in sweats and pajamas. Heplops down in the nest next to Tim anyways. Well, Tim finds he actually doesn’tmind.

Damian scowls. “I don’t understandwhat would be ‘funny’ about my reaction.”

Jason grins, and it’s almost sharklike. Predatory. “Your reaction to school was pretty damn funny, so I’ve takento being there to see some of your other ones. Steph’s been recording what shecan.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Is thatwhy Brown held a camera in front of my face when she took me to the shoppingcenter?”

“Yep,” Jason says, popping his ‘p’.“She gave me the full footage of every reaction you had to the ‘disgusting peasants.’”

“They were fishing for coins inthat fountain,” Damian snaps.

Jason shrugs. “Still hilarious.Especially when you went off on that security guard.”

Tim chokes. “Jason—”

But Jason waves him off. “You’llhave it sent to your phone after the movie, baby bird.”

Tim grins. And then it melts offhis face, when he realizes that the entire time Damian and Jason had beentalking, Dick had been dead quiet. He glances over at his big brother—only tocough on his own laughter.

Jason blows an exasperated breath,sounding put out. “The movie hasn’t even started yet. He can’t seriously beasleep already.”

Bruce smiles indulgently, his handrubbing up and down a sleeping Dick’s back. Dick has all but turned Bruce intohis pillow at this point, and Bruce doesn’t even seem to mind. “He’s had arough few days. Let him sleep.”

Jason rolls his eyes, and thenwaves Damian over, who’s on the other side of Dick, while he pulls Tim closerto him. “Come on, then. If Dick gets a people pillow, then so do I.”

Tim laughs lightly, but he letsJason pull him into what’s almost a cuddle. Their arms are touching, and withDamian on Jason’s other side, Tim almost gets the impression that Damian mightactually like them. Tim thinks he gets halfway through the movie before hefalls asleep.

Sometime later, he wakes up, andthe room is quiet. The screen is dark, and Jason’s deep, even breathing rightnext to him tells him that Mr. I Never Let My Guard Down Around Bruce Wayne hasfallen asleep. He wouldn’t be surprised if the tiny ex-assassin is asleep, too.

He wonders for a moment, what wokehim up, but then he hears it.

“Sorry,” Dick is murmuring. “I’msorry, Bruce.”

Bruce hushes Dick. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Dick insists. “It’s not okay at all. I don’t know what I’msupposed to do now. Everything is so messed up, Bruce. I feel like I’m beingpulled in so many directions and it’s just—it’s all messed up.”

“It’s not,” Bruce tells Dick, andTim’s wide awake now. He makes sure to keep his breathing even and deep, justlike Jason’s. “It sucks, but you know that things will turn out okay.”

“They fell,” Dick says, but it sounds like his breath is hitching. Likehe’s going to cry. Tim tries not to let himself react to that observation, orDick’s words. He’s not sure he succeeds. “And it never ever gets any easier.Especially—Especially when I see something like—”

“I know,” Bruce says, and then theyboth fall quiet for a while. Dick’s breathing evens out a bit, and Tim’s almostfalling back asleep when Bruce says out of nowhere, “You know, you can talk to someonewhen that happens.”

“I tried to talk to Wally,” Dickadmits. “But—Wally’s stressed, too. And then he kept getting angry because Iwasn’t sleeping. It—It wasn’t much help.”

Brue lets out an exasperatedbreath. And when he speaks, he sounds fond in a way Tim hasn’t heard very often,“I meant me, Dick. I was there that day, too. And you used to sneak into bedwith me every time you had a nightmare.”

“I’m not ten anymore,” Dick says.

“So?”

Dick doesn’t seem to have anythingto say to that, but it gets Tim thinking. Thinking about how much Dick does anddoesn’t tell Tim and Jason and Damian. About how much he tries to hide fromthem all, including Bruce, apparently. About how much he’s trying to shoulderon his own. And Tim thinks that maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so bad if Dickhad just opened up, like he tried to get his siblings to do whenever they were feeling stressed or angry orsad.

It makes Tim wonder how stressedout Dick really is. How much of Dick that they don’t see. How much Dick hidesbehind that mask of his.

And then Tim wonders if he couldshoulder that much and still come out sane on the other side. Probably not, hethinks. It’s already hard enough trying to do what he does now.

After a long time, Tim hears Dickmurmur a small, “Thanks, Bruce.”

And there’s a smile in Bruce’svoice when he says, “Go to sleep, Dick.”

Tim wonders and he wonders, and hethinks that next time this happens, he’s going to try to be on the lookout forit. Because Dick, his big brother, the one trying to hold up the sky for hisfamily, doesn’t deserve to be so unhappy and stressed. Next time, Tim’s goingto prevent it before it hits too hard.

Next time, he promises himself.Next time, he’ll be the one holdingup the weight of the world for Dick.

#tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #dc #prompt #angst prompts #camryn writes #I hope I did this justice #I really love this headcanon

[iphoenixrising]

Body Swap: The Fallout

So, things have been kind of crazy and I had to stop stuff to get Fracture, 29 out of my brain pan, but I was still working on this thing for @Jayseedub after we had such a nice convo >.<  It’s the continuation of this thing. Ah, it’s very angsty because I just--I wanted a knock-down-drag-out fight between these two. I want Dick just as pissed as Tim (because of than “you’re my big brother Dick, I know you’ll always come for me,” line Tim fed him in the Red Robin comic. Such a load of crap, right?). I wanted Tim screaming, and welp, I got it. (So prepare for the feel train, it’s rolling down the track).

And a new HC that really makes me feel better about the whole Dick taking the tunic thing, but you can read about it and let me know what you think ;)

**

A few days after the little incident, he’s settled back into his usual routine: check with his team, track any nefarious activity, do any necessary tech refreshes, and dip out to track any number of leads.

He’s on the dip out part, already suiting up and packing some supplies for an extensive trip out to start up with infiltrating an underground fighting ring he thinks might be a cover for something a hell of a lot worse when the Tower’s systems tell him someone with a passcode not Titan specific has touched-down on the roof.

The systems pops up a screen so he can watch the Javelin ease down, effectively blocking his own plane from being able to take off.

Behind the whiteouts, his eyes narrow, but he’s moving to the communal floor, giving the executive override to the elevator sliding slowly to his Perch. The re-direct is going to be better for however this little convo is going to go.

He double-checks his utility belt absently as the doors slide open.

“Titans are out,” he starts, “you’ll have to pull the JL roster instead.”

Nightwing stops dead at the lack of humor or empathy. It’s just business as fucking usual--natch. And Big Wing pauses with it, calculating the last time before the body swap incident that he’d actually seen the face, the eyes, under the mask before he was staring at it in the mirror. (Why didn’t he realize it before?)

Soft click and a whirl when central air kicks in, blowing cold on his neck and shoulders, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. From behind the whiteouts, he’s staring, eyes moving over Red’s abdomen, seeing the roadmap of scars, seeing the new scores against the good guys, seeing a whole lot of vigilante without any of the kid he used to see.

That’s the only good thing about the swap now, isn’t it?

It was impossible for Tim to duck and hide if he wasn’t even in his own body.

“I really hate the sewers under the east side, Timmy,” he comes back easily, forcing it to be Tim and Dick, not N and Red. He doesn’t feel any kind of bad, “But you knew that. You’ve known that since your were in the Robin tunic, so that was a nice way to get back at me.” Now he’s moving forward, eyes for every twitch, every breath, every aborted attempt at a pocket in the utility belt, the slight twitch of the head to indicate the eyes moving for some other escape.

But, that isn’t going to happen.

Because now he sees how things have progressed. He can pick out the shadows and old pain in the slight scar on Tim’s cheekbone and the familiar furrow of his forehead--one he’d always associated with the baddies, Tim’s planning to break shit furrow (and well, who’s getting a load of that now?)

Even if Tim’s playing leader of the Titans, playing at keeping himself above the petty fucking emotions that leave him open and vulnerable, Dick, for the first time in too long sees right past the facade.

And his lip curls up in a sneer, slow boiling anger that’s been simmering for days, one that started the moment he let himself out of Tim’s Perch in a body that was fucked with new scars and lack of crucial viscera. Once he realized Tim had been lying to him the whole time--had just been playing some sort of fucked-up role-- the slow, churning betrayal turned into anger just that quick.

Tim had let himself step back and away, hadn’t trusted him enough to open his damn mouth with the Real. Fucking. Deets.

(Why did you stop talking to me?! Why didn’t you tell me it was all too much? Why did you let yourself slip through my grip? Dammit, Tim. Goddammit.)

And. It. Hurts. Hurt to know Tim pulled the deflection card on him. On. Him. (The guy that apparently lies to whoever the hell Batman is at the time).The devices they used against criminals and murderers, against megalomaniacs and psychopaths, the weapons they used to hide the meaty humanity under the capes so the baddies couldn’t break them open with it--

Their tools to stop the bad guys.

And Tim used it on him.

So when Nightwing resumes his stalk, to come face-to-face with his little bro-- the leader of the Titans (and just how fucked is it that he’s pretty sure Tim doesn’t want to be called that now, well too damn bad), his hips roll in a smooth, seamless motion anyone that knew him knew meant time to get real. Just like he suspects, like he half-hoped wouldn’t happen, Tim’s fingers flicker, probably activating the gauntlets to spit something out in his palm (he’s already re-programmed himself to be on the offensive, not to fight with but to fight against).

“I think having Hood write all over my fucking back kind of makes us even,” Red Robin comes back, neutral and empty. “Besides, Croc was still in Arkham. You’re welcome.” The asshole doesn’t necessarily have to be said to be understood.

“Even?” And it’s low, dangerous. Nightwing’s movements are precise and even as he raises the whiteouts so those electric blue eyes can hyperfocus, to give complete attention. “You think we’re even, Tim?” And Dick leans down just enough to put the two of them close, “because I sure as hell don’t think so.”

And the furrow in that forehead gets deeper, sharper, almost the time to fight furrow. “I served my fucking time as Robin, I did what I set out to do, and your protege gets what he wants. It’s fine, right? The day gets saved. So what the hell is your problem?”

Oh no. Oh no he didn’t.

Dick’s upper lips curls in a sneer, “did what you set out to do? Is that how it went? You never wanted to be part of the family in the first place? You just wanted to get being Robin done and over with because it just some obligation?”

The furrow falls away from Red’s brow because what now?

“Your mom and dad were always away, so training, fighting, taking up my name was what to you? Something to keep you busy?  Were we just a damn hobby or something, Tim? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” The warm edge is bleeding through, but finally, he seems to get somewhere.

Because Tim draws back insanely fast and gives absolutely no shits about punching him right in the face.

“Fuck. You!” And it’s Tim that’s yelling back at him, it’s Tim. Not Red, not the mask, not the cold shoulder.

Dick doesn’t fight it, doesn’t counter it, doesn’t come back even though he’s fairly pissed right the hell off, but he works his jaw a little (because that? Was a nice one) and straightens up to the clenched fists and bared teeth.

“You could have said that a long time ago,” Dick comes back because, no Tim, we’re not just letting it go, “that we were only some way to pass the time, not that you ever wanted us, just the fucking name. All you wanted was the R all that time? Would have been nice if you’d just said so, then I wouldn’t have gotten so invested in you--”

And he’s calculating, wondering how much more Tim can take before he breaks, before he finally spills out his weakness (reads as: the truth).

“I-I fucking bled for that cape, you asshole. I almost died time and fucking time again for that cape. My dad, my fucking dad, Dick,” and the hitch is still there, the utter agony, “...all-all because I was Robin. I kept Bruce on the straight and narrow as much as he let me. And what the fuck did it all mean?! What the fuck did it get me?! Thrown out on my ass? Told I was crazy? That I just had to accept it when Bruce was “dead?” How many superheroes get another chance? Like Jason-Mother-Fucking-Todd?! How farfetched is it really?”

And Dick lets him spit it out, the warming anger burning away the icy calm of Red (reads as the other Robin) to reveal slivers of Tim Drake--the teenager in pain.

That’s the face he wants to see again, his partner and friend, Timmy. Because Dick gets the vigilante now, after mapping the journey from losing the cape until now, tracking the baddies, tracking the trail to find Batman, seeing what kind of things “Robin couldn’t do,” all of it justified who and what Red Robin is. But Tim? The young, damaged kid under the mask is the one Dick needs to help, needs to see, needs to understand. And, no, he isn’t leaving until they hash this out. So, tough, Timmy. I’ve got you now.

“You couldn’t even look me in the face,” is almost screamed at him, Tim refusing to back the hell down, his hands shaking with the poison pouring out, all the mistakes and misunderstandings, all the strain and stress, the hard decisions and unavoidable repercussions. He fully intends to give back in spades. “You threw some bullshit about being equals and gave another kid my name. It wasn’t yours then. I made it mine. It’s all I had left, the only thing I had left of Bruce, and you gave it the fuck away like I meant nothing. Like I was garbage. I had nothing else left.”

But Dick moves, gripping his biceps in an unforgiving hold and already ducking a hand under Tim’s defenses to rip off the domino, to look at him, not the whiteouts.

Snarling and ferocious, wet eyes and bared teeth, seeing what happened, what those tough choices did to him, to them makes Dick’s jaw clench down and his chest fucking ache.

“You idiot. You had me. Dammit, Tim, you’ve always had me. I thought you knew that. I thought after everything, everything we’d been through, in the five years we bled together, you’d always know I’m here for you. I’m here for you no matter what. No matter what happens, or how far you go, you always have me.”

The younger vigilante in his hold, the one fighting against his grip like a bleeding, dying animal is snarling and growling in such fucking pain (and he’d missed it, missed how much he hurt Tim, how much damage they’ve done to one another without really trying).

He grips harder, not letting Tim pull away this time, not letting him hide behind Red.

“Robin is just a fake name, Tim. Dammit, Robin isn’t, was never, who you are. Didn’t you figure that out in the damn desert?” And he bares his teeth as well, shaking the younger vigilante just so he doesn’t give him nuclear noogies and months of endless cuddles. Just how could Tim be such a dumb ass not to have known? Not to have called? Not to have just said something?

Was the trust between them broken that badly? Why the hell had Dick even believed him when he said he knew Dick would always catch him? Why hadn’t he seen through the bullshit back then?

Tim’s nose is turning red, his watery eyes narrowed, every muscle tensed up for the fight or flight instinct to kick in. Dick doesn’t give him the chance. Even if he is still supremely pissed, he pulls Tim hard into his chest, wraps both arms around him tight, trapping him at the waist and shoulders, a hand on his neck, waiting for the right time to slide into his hair. It’s how Tim used to need it after a hard night, a bad run of it, and Dick is shameless in using it to his every advantage. He puts his cheek down on the top the crown of too-long hair and breathes against Tim’s ear, “You have it wrong. I didn’t think you were crazy. You weren’t talking to anyone long before Bruce disappeared. You were pulling back, pulling away, and I couldn’t help you. You wouldn’t let me help you, Timmy. You had a gun, and I know you had it in your hand the night I happened to call and check on you. I always knew.”

And the body he can’t let go of is shuddering harder in his arms at the reveal, that Dick had always known what the third Robin was ready to do, how far gone he had almost been. If Dick Grayson hadn’t called him that night, forced him to keep talking, pretty much kicked the door in to the shitty apartment in the ‘Haven with the phone still up to his ear. If Dick had just hung up the phone.

Well, they wouldn’t be here now, would they?

“I didn’t know what else to do. Dammit, being Robin was killing you and you couldn’t even see it.”

Frozen for long moments, Tim blinks rapidly against his watery vision at the plain cream wall over Dick’s shoulder because well, that changes things just a little, doesn’t it?

(Was it? Was the tunic really killing him back then? He made bad calls after Dad, after everyone-- but-but...the .45 auto was the most solid thing he’d held for a while).

“Dr. Erin O’Malley is a therapist known in our circles. How do you think Roy kicked the habit? And who Ollie saw when he came back from his soul-searching thing? Barry told her about his mom, for heaven’s sake, Timmy! She knows J’onn isn’t from around here, and Kara has big brother issues with Clark. After Blockbuster and-and Tarantula, she helped me too. Hell, the majority of her clientele are superheroes, and that’s why I called her. I was getting desperate for you to talk to someone, anyone before you did something.” And the fear might be old and dusty, but Dick’s tone gets thin with it anyway, the ‘he’s going to kill himself’ vibe crawling down his spine, that made him chase after Tim right after he left the Cave, ready to leave Gotham behind to go on his quest to find Bruce.

He feels Tim’s chest stutter against his, feels how hard Tim is biting down on his lower lip to keep the half-sob in.  The harness is digging into the thin Kevlar lining of the Nightwing suit, and he makes an irritated noise, pulling one arm away just long enough to deactivate the thing and toss it on one of the couches without really letting Tim escape.

“The not telling you about Dami taking up the mantle was wrong, and I am such an asshole for it. I’m sorry, Tim. I’m so sorry.”

He feels the tremble go through Tim’s whole body at the admission. He feels how the younger vigilante tries to ruthlessly squash what he believes is an obvious weakness by trying to pull back again, shoving his palms against Dick’s chest to get leverage. Dick just sweeps his arms by his sides and wraps himself around Tim like a blanket, walking them backwards a few feet to press Tim against the wall so he’s less likely to escape.

“I am sorry how it all happened, but I don’t regret making you move on. Someone had to break you out of the spiral before it killed you, and as much as it sucks and I hated it, it still worked. The stuff with Ra’s? We are eventually going to talk about because you, you should have called me dammit. How fast do you think I would have torn the Cradle apart looking for you? Faster than Clark when Lois is in some kind of peril. Honestly, when have I ever left you when you called? Especially when you magically lose a spleen?!”

And all the facts, all the digging, all the new information makes him clench his jaw with how much he didn’t even know, the muscle jumping against Tim’s temple and his arms unconsciously tighten even more, absorbing the progressive tremble of limbs and chest, of forced, slow breathing, and the attempt to keep control.

“I’m so pissed off right now, Tim. So. Pissed, but I’m not letting you go. Hell. No. Not this time, do you understand me?”

“Go to hell,” but the tone is thick and wet, the struggle renews with vigour, “like you have any reason to be pissed? You had no problem when that little asshole made sure I knew I was just a fucking stand-in.”

“Dami was an asshole to everyone--” he starts to placate, but pauses when he remembers the acidic tone, the honesty in Dami’s tone when he was the one wearing Tim’s face.

Maybe he’d underestimated how much Dami had an impact back then--

Obviously he has since Tim find the weakness in his hold, grips his wrist, turns on his heel fast, and throws him in a familiar move.

But since Dick was Robin, was Batman, is Nightwing, he rebounds off the wall and comes back for it, missing Tim by a miniscule margin when the younger folds his knees at just the right second.

Dick lands it on the Communal Floor’s kitchen, landing crouched on top the island without even a wobble, and stares Tim down with a frown marring his features.

“I didn’t know it was that bad, Tim. I didn’t know--”

“Of course you didn’t,” with scathing heat behind it. “It’s not like you’d want to hear anything against your fucking Robin now would you?” And all that tightly wound anger, all that pent-up pain is so obvious in the way Tim refuses to advance, refuses to let his voice raise again.

“Tim, I swear, at the time--”

“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you, Dick?” Is all dangerous now, low and pitched, the flash of Tim’s teeth in the overhead lights, “you got the Robin you wanted, the Robin that was fucking blood. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d paid enough to attention to know he cut my fucking zip line, or he’s the one that took me out of the Cave’s mainframe like I was a stain on the tunic. Even if you knew all of that at the time, what would it have really mattered? I was just the stand-in from the first time you wore the cowl, and I get it now.”

“No,” Dick snarls, leaping off the island in a smooth flow of muscle and power, countering Tim’s duck and dodge, forcing the leader of the Titans back against the wall again, “that isn’t true. That was never true,” and his voice has gone deep, dark, eyes narrowed outlined by the domino, “you were always my partner, just as much as Bruce was, so were you.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me now--” Tim comes back, his voice half-hoarse from yelling, screaming, his whole body clenched tight, “if I would have know that truth, it would have been easier from the start. Bruce didn’t hide it from me, Dick. You did!”

And that little bomb drop? Oh Bruce is going to hear about this.

Later when there would be audio and vid. Then the Batman could have his own time to address this obviously gross oversight.

For now, though, he’s going to make a hell of a lot of things very clear.

“In the beginning, I didn’t want a twelve-year old getting involved. You’re right about that. I didn’t want you to take up the tunic and neither did Bruce, so you are one hundred percent right. In the beginning, Tim, we didn’t want you.”

And just the facial ticks, the tightening of a gloved fist, the tells Tim had apparently tried so hard to train out of himself since he’d been Red, give Dick so much more than he had before-- realizing how long this had been something at the back of Tim’s brain pan.

“It would be too easy for your to get hurt, for you to die. You had a dad who would mourn you, Tim. You still had family. You still had things to lose Bruce and Jason and I never did, so no, we didn’t want you risking your life for our Mission.”

Clenching jaw, eyes getting wet again, but Dick watches Tim flutter his eyes to hold back. Not there yet, not there yet.

“But in the first year, you proved how smart and capable you are. You didn’t back down, you didn’t give in or give up. You wore that tunic like it was the only thing that mattered. You gave the role of Robin more than I did at that age or Jason did. You made Robin a force to be reckoned with, and you made us, me and Bruce, so fucking proud. So proud you stood by us and just kept on fighting. You became our family, Tim, my brother and Bruce’s son. Blood didn’t matter, it never mattered. Not then and not now. Despite all of it, you’re still and always will be my little brother and nothing, nothing is going to change that.” A little fact: he is going to pound into Dami’s skull because some little birds need to realize, the first Robin was never blood either. The ‘true son’ is going to get one hell of a lesson when he gets back to Gotham.

But for right now, for right now, Tim’s eyes are wet and blown wide in surprise, his hands and arms half-poised, frozen in shock but for the small, almost imperceptible trembling (Oh, God, Tim, how long have you felt like this? How long have you believed--?). When Tim drags in a breath, lets out a broken, choked, noise, Dick is right up in his space, gripping and holding hard by the time his eyes spill over.

It a horrible and wonderful thing at the same time, when Tim’s shaky hands come up under his arms, around his back, and grips his shoulders tight enough that the bruises are going to be epic. When Tim’s face is hidden in the side of his neck, and he can feel the tears sliding down his skin to the suit, knows the younger vigilante is still trying to fight it instead of just letting go.

Dick turns his face enough to bury his nose in the too-long hair and close his own hot eyes tight because he missed this. Missed this too much to bear.

His tone is gruff and wobbly, his hold inescapable when he finally comes out with it, “we… We may not have wanted you in the beginning, Tim but we sure as hell did in no time at all. Geeze, you’re an idiot. I mean, who wouldn’t want you? Even immortal megalomaniacs want a piece of that.”

Half-laughing and half-sobbing, Tim’s muscles try to contract, try to make himself smaller in such a familiar move that Dick blinks fast but still manages to get a few wet drips in Tim’s hair. He gives absolutely zero shits about it and manages to reach down and get an arm under Tim’s knees to lift him up high against Dick’s chest, takes them both to one of the couches on the communal floor where he can sit with Tim in his lap and hold on for as long as he can.

#I warned you #who isn't crying a little after this #fic rec #tim drake #dick grayson #angst angst angst angst #my fic #my writing #sorry it took so long babe

[sweetwriting]

Tim Drake Week 2017 - Day 1 : Firsts/Lasts A History of Costume : Tim Drake Edition

Category : Gen

Genre : Angst / Fluff / Family

Fandoms : DC Comics, Batman (1940), Robin v1 (1991), Robin v4 (1993), Superman - Batman (2003)

Continuity : Post-Crisis/Pre-Flashpoint

Summary : The first and last time Tim wore each of his costumes

Author’s notes : the last one is one of my hc (especially in my Detective!AU/Sequel)

Word Count : 954

To read it on AO3

The first time Tim wore Jason's Robin costume was a few hours after Dick left to help Bruce against Two-Face. He didn't have any agenda for himself. He just wanted to help and convince Dick to be Robin again. Because Batman needs a Robin.

The last time Tim wore Jason's Robin costume had still not been for his own agenda. He knew Bruce had said he wasn't ready yet and that he shouldn't get out there. That if he did he could say good bye to the idea of ever becoming Robin. But Tim, at this moment, did not care. Batman was in danger. Against Scarecrow's fear gas and without an antidote, Bruce would need help. He didn't care if he never became Robin as long as he could save Bruce's life. That's why he first reached out to Dick after all. And now he was given his own costume. He was actually Robin.

The first time Tim wore his Green, Red, Yellow and Black Robin costume was after saving Bruce from Scarecrow's gas. The first time he wore it outside he was in Paris. Studying Martial Arts, well really Healing Arts for now, under the watchful eye of Rahul Lama. Despite not being as high as Gotham's building (which he did not know anything about yet, because he had obviously never gone out to take pictures of Batman and Robin, of course he hadn't), the old Haussmann architecture did remind him of some of Gotham's buildings (but not as dark…never as dark as Gotham). He also didn't really have to swing as most rooftops were actually connected. It was both a foreign and familiar feeling.

The last time Tim wore his Green, Red, Yellow and Black Robin costume was during Superboy's funeral. He'd love to say it was because he got the idea of his next costume but the truth is that it was the opposite. He was forced to think of a next costume because he couldn't stand this one anymore. He had lost his ex-girlfriend and his father because of it (nevermind that he'd never have had them in the first place without it), when he was in it. But worst of all, he had lost his best friend, he couldn't even help him. He could have dealt with just Steph's and his father's death. It's horrible to say but he had already almost started to move on (thanks to Conner and Dick). But Conner's death, he knows, isn't something he can come back from as easily, and not just because Conner isn't there to help him deal with grief. This costume is the costume of loss, of grief and Tim can't deal with that, not without his best friend and he can't bother the others because everyone's grieving someone. So he's going to repress everything and he's going to throw away this costume because he doesn't want the reminder.

The first time Tim wore his Red and Black costume was after Superboy's funeral. After he threw his previous costume away. He wanted to Honor his best friend, but mostly he didn't want to forget him. He didn't want the reminder of his death so he tried to remind himself of his life. It was hell but he was ready for it (no he wasn't). It was the costume that reminded him that no matter how much he wanted to give up, he still had people he couldn't give up for.

The last time Tim wore his Red and Black costume was when his skull was burnt. When Steph went behind his back *on Bruce's order* after Bruce died (because apparently, it's him as a Robin the problem, not the costume because Bart died too). To make him a better Robin. Which he gets, after all Batman died on his watch. But she betrayed him. He was getting over her lying about her death for a year and she did this to him. So he donned another costume. Because there was another trauma to be added to his list.

The first time he put on the Red Robin costume he was actually still Robin. He needed to protect his skull. And the costume fit him. The costume he had taken from Ulysses who wanted his revenge. And even if Tim knew it wasn't his own fault, that Ulysses was simply too narcissistic to even consider he was at fault himself, Tim couldn't help but feel the guilt because he couldn't protect them, like he couldn't protect Bruce. It was also the costume Ulysses had stolen from Jason (how much tweaking was necessary in the end? Because Jason was a lot taller than Ulysses who himself was slightly taller than Tim). This costume was the costume of disappointment and it fit Tim to a T.

The last time he put on the Red Robin costume was 6 years later. He had turned it around. His life had turned around. Almost everyone he loved was back. He had -finally- talked things through with Bruce and Dick and Damian, he had even let go of his guilt and anger toward Jason even if they weren't close they were allies, sometimes. He had helped the Batfam reconstruct itself, he had reconnected with Kon and Bart and Cassie and the other Teen Titans, helped mentor the new ones. He was ready to move on with his life. He had given the Red Robin mantle a new life, a new and better reputation but it was time to wave goodbye. He had talked it out with Bette and Dick and Conner and he was the new Flamebird. The Kyptonian Hero who fought alongside Nightwing. It was perfect to honor both his relationship with Dick and his friendship with Conner.

#Tim Drake #Conner Kent #Stephanie Brown #Ulysses Hadrian Armstrong #Jason Todd #DC Comics #BrOTP: TimKon #Tim Drake Week #Parent/Child: Tim & Bruce #BrOTP: TimBart #BrOT3: TimKonBart #Batman #Batverse #Robin v1 (1991) #Robin v4 (1993) #Superman - Batman (2003)