#he thinks tim's life is worth more than his inadequacies

[scintillyyy]

hmmm i think to me. i do, on a completely logical level, understand and appreciate the read on the drakes where they had a kid out of obligation/because it's considered the done thing for heterosexual couples. it definitely fits with the fact that they did prioritize their own work, desires, and interests over the presence and hard work needed to raising a child.

but mmm in my opinion i don't personally think the obligation angle is like. quite it. as far as i see them. like idk. i definitely think that they were ill-equipped to handle the full responsibilities of parenthood and did make choices that prioritized not inconveniencing what they wanted to do and were ultimately *unskilled* in parenting but to me that in no way to me means that they wouldn't have not chosen to have tim at all with a more accepting heterosexual culture of not having kids. you can tell in the fact that jack, while often failing at the burdens of parenthood, is shown quite often to believe that tim is the best thing that ever happened to him. you can tell in batman #134 where alternate janet expresses great joy that she is alive to meet an alternate version of her son that she is extremely grateful for tim's existence.

and while often regretful parents still do find their children's existence at least worthy, that's genuinely not the vibe i get from the drakes. the drakes have genuine joy in their son's very existence and it's shown quite often how happy they are he's their son. they struggled a lot and did end up failing to fit him into their lives, but at the same time their time is also littered with them trying to fit him into their lives at least a little. tim even says that most parents wouldn't take their kids to the things like the art galleries and operas but his parents took him. i'm not saying that this makes them parents of the year, but these activities normally being something you'd get a babysitter for and them wanting to take tim with them instead indicates to me that they did want to fit him into their lives, they just also struggled a lot to do so. so i think that to reduce it to "they had a kid because society tells you to have kids -> they then didn't actually want to raise said kid" makes sense as something that does happen but i do think that to me. the drakes are a little bit more nuanced than that in their motivations. parenthood, even for the best prepared, is a fundamental upheaval to your life that you might think you're prepared for and then it turns out you're not because of how much it changes your life. you can want something a lot and then ultimately not be able to handle the responsibilities. but that falls under "should the drakes have had a kid/wanted to have a kid knowing they wouldn't be able to handle the struggles that come with the actuality of having one" which is a fundamentally different question of "did they drakes want to have kids or were the obligated to have one". and the drakes probably didn't know they wouldn't be that good at parenting! or that they wouldn't be able to handle it! truly parenting is one of those things where even with all the prep in the world, you truly have no way of knowing how you'll end up until after you've become a parent. so of course they would *want* to have kids. most people who choose to have kids do so thinking they can handle it and wanting it. and it's unfortunate when that ends up not being the case, but it's not so easy as only people who are going to be good at it, do it. that's the inherent tragedy of the drakes, to me. that they wanted tim more than anything in the world. if they went back in time they'd choose to have him again and again and again in any universe. they wouldn't make a different choice at all, if it means tim gets to exist. but that doesn't translate to them being able to handle parenting or beind good or effective at it. and that's the tragedy of their relationship imo. that they will choose him but will ultimately hurt him in that choice of him because of their imperfectness and inability to change themselves for him, who they want so dearly. idk for me the concept of "want" is separate from their capabilities to change for that want. and that's why i don't necessarily see it as an obligation on their part. they'd 100% do it all over again, have him again, have a shitty marriage together, if it means that tim gets a chance to grow into the wonderful person they clearly think he is.

and i always say that we never know the drakes before the circus narratively dooms them. their time at the circus before the deaths of the flying graysons show a normal family who is happy to spend time with each other. the only time we actually see them is after they have been broken beyond repair by the narrative. in fact, in a world without young justice, a universe where tim doesn't become robin and dick grayson doesn't seem to exist ergo they never went to the circus, jack and janet are both shown to be alive and present with tim, living as a normal family. they were fundamentally unable to handle the dooming of the narrative!! they didn't have a kid thinking "oh but what if we go to the circus and see people die, on second thought maybe we shouldn't i don't think i could handle that". they wanted tim! they just. couldn't quite handle everything that happens. that's what's sad. to me.

[voiceless-terror]

Recognition

@aspecarchivesweek Day Five: Something New

Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Season One

In which Jon and Martin are more alike than they thought.

Jon, in spite of himself, was starting to get used to Martin living in the Archives.

Offering him shelter had been almost instinctual- after listening to his story, who wouldn’t? Terrorized for almost two weeks and no one, no one noticed. There was also the matter of Jon’s guilt; Martin thought he needed to put himself in danger to be thorough, to please Jon, and now he was homeless. Jon owed him this at the very least. No matter how much Elias disapproved of the situation.

And despite the occasional trouser-less wanderings, his presence was...appreciated. Late nights in the Archives were wearing him down: the statements were getting to him, and the unshakeable feeling of being watched when he knew he was alone was putting him on edge. Now he can blame that feeling on Martin, who he’d caught staring on more than one occasion. Jon was not surprised; he hadn’t been looking or feeling his best, highly unprofessional with his three-day stubble and rumpled clothes. Not a good look.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t enjoy the cup of tea when Martin joined him in his worst bouts of insomnia. He would sit on the tiny couch in his office, nursing his own mug and chattering away in a low tone that Jon was starting to find soothing instead of irritating. At first Jon clammed up, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion on his late night routine, but he soon found Martin didn’t expect him to respond or contribute, save the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. Sometimes Jon even craved the company, the familiar rhythms of Martin’s voice had become an unconscious comfort. 

Tonight he was looking particularly exhausted, slumped in his seat with deep purple bags under his eyes. It sent an unwelcome pang through Jon’s chest; Martin should be sleeping, not entertaining him because he chose to stay late. He said as much.

“You don’t have to stay up on my part.”

“Hm?” Martin looked up from his lap, eyes finding Jon’s. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I like the company, to be honest. Unless…?”

“I don’t mind,” Jon assured him. Shockingly, he found he meant it. Still, it didn’t ease his guilt. Martin was always here, never leaving the Archives for more than an hour to get food or other necessities. He considered his next words. “That being said, I hope you know you’re allowed to have a life outside of the institute. I won’t judge if you want to have a...late night, or go out. It’s not my business what you do in your free time.”

Martin squinted his eyes as if he didn’t understand the words Jon spoke. Christ, do I really seem that out of touch? He knew he could be severe and well, a bit of an ass at times. The stress of the job got to him more than he cared to admit. But he didn’t want his assistants to think they should follow his example. He was Head Archivist, it fell on his shoulders to get this place in some semblance of order. 

“I’m not really one for nights out, Jon,” Martin gave that familiar, self-deprecating laugh as he leaned back in his chair, an almost defeated-like set to his shoulders. “Well, besides the occasional drink with Tim and Sasha. And even those are sort of...I don’t know. They have their own thing going, and I feel like-”

“A bit of an outsider,” Jon provided before he could activate his ‘word to mouth’ filter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No,” Martin cut him off. “You’re right. Feels like I’m intruding.”

“Their banter can be overwhelming for the, ah, uninitiated.” On the few times he’d gone out with them in research, he’d felt more lonely than included. His awkward attempts at interjecting could make a conversation fall flat and he felt the need to accept every drink they handed in him the hopes of ‘loosening up.’ It never worked. They were never mean about it, no- or at least had the decency not to do it in his presence. 

“Tell me about it.” Martin gave Jon a tiny little smirk that sent his heart stuttering in his chest for no particular reason. “I’m used to it, is all. This isn’t much of a change in routine, worms notwithstanding.”

“You, er, don’t have friends you can meet up with? Or maybe a partner?” Christ, why am I prying? What’s gotten into me? Jon felt curious, the man practically lived with him and yet he barely knew him.

The bark of laughter he got in reply was sudden and more than self-deprecating. “A partner? Are you kidding me?” Martin’s tone threw him off-balance; it was jaded, bitter, not like him at all.

“I didn’t mean to pry-”

“No, it’s- to be frank, I don’t think I’m cut out for all that.” Martin toyed with the mug in his hands, gazing into it like it held the answers he needed. “I’ve uh, tried to go on a few dates, meet people, that sort of thing. But they all expect something at the end and it just never feels right, I can’t explain it. Like there’s something missing. ”

Jon paused; the words and their sentiment were not unfamiliar to him. In fact, they resonated quite deeply, if Martin meant what Jon thought he did.

“It’s always been that way- I get a crush, I get to know them, they want to, y’know, and I-I don’t know what's wrong with me, but I can’t-” He cut himself off, sitting up straighter as if suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this-”

“It’s fine.” And it was. Martin looked at his hands and Jon recognized the sadness in the set of his shoulders, the lines etched in his face. He never thought the two of them would have much in common but that- that was a feeling Jon knew all too well. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.”

Martin somehow managed to deflate even further, curling up as if trying to disappear. “Yeah, well- I think it’s time to admit that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”

The words hit Jon harder than expected. His fists tightened in his lap; he was sixteen again, wondering why the kiss he stole in a backroom felt more invasive than intimate. He was reading romance novels, understanding the words but not the feelings they were supposed to invoke. He was in college, being called a ‘tease’ or a ‘prude’ when he pulled away at the end of the night. And it was all accompanied by that deep, crushing fear that he’d never be enough. 

No, you’re not that kid anymore. 

And Martin shouldn’t have to be either.

“What’s that look for?”

He was drawn from his thoughts at Martin’s words, looking up from the scratched wood of his desk. “Sorry?”

“You’ve- you’ve got that look on your face, like you’re const- like you’re thinking really hard.”

Jon tried to think of a way to word his query delicately, but ‘delicacy’ had never been his strong suit, according to Georgie. Come to think of it, it was never hers either. “Have you ever considered that maybe- that you’re- you’re of the persuasion, that is-”

Martin shot him a deadpan look, unimpressed. “Yeah, I know I’m gay, Jon.”

“That’s not-” He sighed in frustration, fuming at his inability to communicate. “It’s okay to not feel that way. I never have. It’s normal.”

Martin blinked. “Sorry?”

“Asexuality, that is,” he said, finally managing to get out the words. “I was...in a similar position, I guess you could say. I didn’t feel the way you were ‘supposed’ to feel, like how all the books and TV shows describe it. Zero interest in anything sexual, and I thought...well, I thought something was wrong with me.” Jon felt a lump building in his throat, much to his horror. “But being able to put a name to it, an identity, it just felt right.” Martin’s face was unreadable- had he spoken out of turn? Did he have this all wrong? 

He tried to clarify. “What I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like, that...feeling you described. But it doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for love. You...you shouldn’t have to feel that way about yourself. You’ll find people who accept you. You’re not doomed to be lonely.” Now you’re just getting sentimental. Jon wasn’t one to dole out advice. He attempted to reign it in, get himself back on solid, familiar ground. “Maybe don’t take me for an example, though. I assure you, my isolation is very much self-imposed.”

Martin didn’t laugh. For a brief, panicky moment Jon thought he might have offended him, assumed the wrong thing, taken him out of context. But Martin met his eyes and Jon saw it- a look of dawning understanding, of comprehension and knowing and as much as Jon wanted to look away he couldn’t, because for the first time in a while he thought he might have said the right thing. 

_____

He watched as Martin puttered about in the break room and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Martin hadn’t said much after their conversation, just thanked him in a choked voice and mumbled some excuse about going off to bed. Jon felt a bit conflicted- he now had time to ruminate on the conversation, pick it apart and wonder if he said anything wrong. He didn’t think he had, but his instincts had been proven wrong before.

Still, the thought of helping one person, sparing them from that crippling self-doubt and inadequacy, made any embarrassment or awkwardness well worth it. So here he was, shuffling his feet and holding a stack of paper, stapled and neat and in some cases, annotated. He cleared his throat and Martin turned away from the sink to face him.

“Oh, g-good morning, Jon.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel, throwing it lightly on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”

He’d gotten two hours tops on the lumpy couch in his office. I need to invest in another cot. But he nodded anyway, walking forward and thrusting the pile out for Martin to take. Martin looked down at it quizzically but took it all the same, his face softening as he flipped through the pages.

“I, um- I printed out some articles that I thought might be of interest,” Jon rambled, feeling more awkward by the second. Was this too forward of me? “I’ve always found it easier to read on paper instead of the screen. For ah, concentration purposes. This- this isn’t required reading, or anything. Just might be helpful for, uh, figuring things out.”

Martin didn’t look up from the pages in his hand, instead zeroing in on them with a more intense stare. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with sincerity. “Thanks. It uh, it means a lot.”

“Yes,” Jon replied nonsensically, having no response to the emotion in Martin’s words. “You- you don’t need to talk to me about this, if you’d rather not. But I’m available if you’d like to.” He paused. Best to keep this somewhat professional- it was almost nine. “Outside of normal working hours, of course.”

“Of course,” Martin echoed, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he finally met Jon’s eyes. He fought down the urge to smile back, instead muttering an excuse and turning to flee the room. I think I’ve filled my emotional quota for the week. 

They don’t talk about it again, but a few days later a sticky note appears on his desk. Thanks- MB. Underneath the clear script he’d doodled a small flag- black, grey, white, and purple. 

Jon puts it in his right-hand drawer next to an old polaroid of the Admiral, where it stays.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782318

[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 2 on AO3

______________________

Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all. ________________________

When Tim wakes up, he thinks he’s hallucinating. Partly because his almost everything hurts, and whatever else left feels tender and sore. Mostly because he thinks Robin is rescuing him. That can’t be right, though. Dick Grayson hasn’t been Robin  — or that small  — for many years. Jason Todd certainly hasn’t…

Tim groans. Jason. He was supposed to solve things. He was supposed to fix things up after Jason was gone. Deal with the damage when Jason got back. Give Jason another chance because he knew Robin  — his Robin  — couldn’t be that bad.

“Come on, you deadweight,” Robin mumbles. “How pathetic can you get? You don’t have any mortal wounds. What are you doing, napping on the dirty ground like that?”

Well, that certainly is not Dick Grayson. First because Dick could never sound that obnoxious. And the small detail that Tim knows Dick is an adult man now.

“Damian…?” he mutters numbly.

“We got ya, mate,” another familiar voice, this one lot friendlier. Squire.

Tim is out again in a matter of seconds, utterly confused about the fact that Squire is there and Damian is dressed as Robin. All he knows is that he failed utterly and completely. He was supposed to fix things, and somehow he made everything worse. Everything that went downhill started with Tim Stupid Drake letting his useless ass get into a mess he was never prepared for. Jack used to tell him to be proud of himself in the same breath he told him his arrogance was unbecoming. Children are supposed to be seen, not heard.

He lets unconsciousness take him. His last thought is that he hopes he doesn’t wake up, so that he doesn’t have to deal with all the consequences of his mistakes.

Then Tim wakes up, because Tim can never get what he wants. At first, he doesn’t remember where he is and why everything hurts so much. Did he oversleep? That would make sense. He found out that, if he went for too long without sleep, by the time he eventually crashed his body would stay unconscious for way too long, and he would wake up all stiff and sore.

With a bit of effort, he starts opening his eyes. The first thing he notices is that he’s at the cave. It wouldn’t be the first time he passed out there, but…

Oh, that’s right. He fought Jason again. He got his ass handed back to him again. He barely remembered what happened; all he knew is that he took a huge risk and it didn’t pay off. Dick must have saved him after all  — leaving that note letting him know Tim was going to do something stupid was, in retrospect, actually smart.

He blinks slowly and turns to the side when he hears familiar voices. If Dick is coming to check on him, Tim must make sure to apologize for his recklessness and thank him profusely. He knew there was a huge chance of him being a hindrance rather than useful, but he took the chance anyway.

Instead of Dick, however, it’s Batman who walks into his field of vision. Tim freezes. So he finally accepted it. Dick decided to take the cowl after all. Tim almost smiles in relief  — the fact that his jaw is throbbing certainly keeps his expression in check  — because that’s a good thing, right? If his mess of a plan resulted in Dick finally stepping up to the task, then it had been worth it.

(Part of him feels a little guilty. Dick repeatedly said that he didn't want to be Batman but... This is fine, right? Dick is the only one who can. The only one good enough. This will be good for him, too… right?)

It doesn’t look like Dick noticed Tim is awake. He walks to the batmobile with practiced fortitude and, for a moment, he looks so much like Bruce that Tim feels a lump in his throat. The fanboy in him also laments that he’s about to miss Dick’s first patrol as Batman  — it has to be the first, there’s no way a simple beatdown got Tim asleep for longer than a night  — and he considers calling out and asking to tag along anyway, as unlikely as it is that he’ll get an yes.

Then a smaller person stalks into view, and the lump in Tim’s throat positively doubles in size: it’s Robin. Robin, wearing a smaller version of Tim’s uniform. Younger, newer, stronger, better. The arrogance in his posture is familiar, and even if it wasn’t there are very few suspects. Damian Wayne is wearing the Robin uniform. Damian Wayne is getting in the batmobile with Dick Grayson. A new Batman, a new Robin. Tim struggles to sit up, but neither hero notices him. They take off, the sound of the engine revving up drowning Tim’s pathetic attempt at speaking up.

“Master Timothy!”

Strong hands grab him by the shoulders, hauling him up before Tim even realizes he was falling from the cot. He lets Alfred delicately adjust him back into a semi-comfortable position for half  a second before he springs back up.

“What — ” he croaks, his voice horribly hoarse from lack of use. “Al…”

“My boy, breathe,” Alfred commands, again holding him still. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

Except nothing is alright. Tim resists and, hurt as he is, he could’ve easily got himself free. Not without hurting Alfred, though, and Tim doesn’t think he could do that even if his life depended on it. Instead, he squirms uselessly until Alfred finally manages to push him back into his pillow.

“Master Timothy, don’t make me tie you to the bed. You know I’m not above it if you’re being unreasonable.”

“Batman and Robin left,” Tim protests, his voice betraying his confusion. It almost sounds as though he’s in fear.

Something flashes across Alfred’s face  — worry?  — but it vanishes fast enough, giving place to the expression a father wears while gently, but firmly chastising his child.

“If you let me check your vitals, I’ll gladly inform you of what happened while you were unconscious. Do we have a deal? Will you stay put if I let you go?”

Tim slowly nods. Alfred takes a step back. The boy sits up, but he does so carefully. A sign that he’s tired of lying down rather than a rebellion. Alfred accepts that with a satisfied smile before turning to the medical supplies that had been carefully placed by Tim’s cot. Vitals check  is a process they’ve done enough times that neither needs to pay full attention to it.

“So?” Tim requests. Demands.

“You’ve been resting for almost 17 hours. You don’t have any serious wounds, so I reckon your prolonged rest was caused by sheer exhaustion rather than actual injuries.” Alfred gives him a pointed look.

Tim ignores it. “What happened to Jason?”

Those words have an effect on the butler, whose shoulders go stiff even if he does his best to hide his discomfort.

“I’m sure Master Dick can tell you in better detail when he returns. The short version is… we don’t know where he is.” At this point, he pauses, as though measuring his words carefully, or as though he doesn’t want to admit what he has to tell Tim next. Tim doesn’t pressure him.“He fought Master Dick and lost. We believe he thought you were gone. Master Damian was able to rescue you, thankfully.”

Tim doesn’t think Jason was stupid enough to think he was dead. Especially because Tim wasn’t even trying to pretend to be dead. He could’ve. Bruce had taught him how. It didn’t even occur to him to do so, because, despite everything, it was Jason. Jason was a Robin. He was angry, sure, and Tim didn’t fully blame him. Not after he heard Bruce’s testament.

However, for once, Jason isn’t Tim’s main concern.

“Damian didn’t rescue me,” he says. “Robin did.”

Alfred pretends the task of making sure Tim doesn’t have a concussion is a lot more demanding than it really is. He’s clearly avoiding the accusation in Tim’s voice.

“Seems like you’re all good, my boy. Your head is more resistant than it seems, it looks like. I should warn you that one of your teeth has been broken, though.”

“Alfred…”

The butler sighs. “It’s not my place to tell you about Master Dick’s decisions, Master Timothy,” he says and Tim’s stomach sinks. “I’m sure he’ll talk to you once he returns.”

Except it is Alfred’s place. It is exactly his place, his right. Tim never quite understood why Alfred chooses to stand on the sidelines. Alfred knows damn well he isn’t simply an employee, he’s family. His snide remarks and gentle chastising are one thing, but, when push comes to shove, Alfred tends to only offer advice when asked for. He lets them sort themselves out. If he wanted, he could do more, get the others to do more, or at least Tim is almost sure of it. Could it be that he got tired of being ignored by Bruce by the time the kids joined the crusade? Does it have anything to do with Jason’s death, like most of the problems in the family seem to revolve around?

At another time, Tim would’ve asked. As it is now, there is something gnawing at Tim’s gut, a feeling of inadequacy he hadn’t felt in quite a few years. When was the last time? When he was just starting as Robin? When Jason first tried to kill him? It was a swarm of butterflies in his stomach, and not the good kind, that started bugging him when Damian appeared but it didn’t bloom into an all out ache until tonight.

Tim felt the urge to go home as though he was overstaying his welcome in a stranger’s house, but his ride was late and there was nothing he could do about it. As though he was a meddling boy forcing himself into the life of a grieving man against his will. As though he had to work twice as hard, be three times as useful to make up for the fact that he was an unwanted appendix.

He doesn’t say anything else until Alfred clears him. He takes the pain medicine the butler gives him, even though he didn’t need them. He can barely feel the soreness of his body by now.

The next hours are a blur. Tim knows he takes off the rest of the uniform. He has half a mind to cringe at how painful it must have been to Alfred to treat him while he’s wearing Batman’s colors. He changes into his own clothes before going upstairs.

His room at Wayne manor doesn’t look like anything like his former room. His space used to be sacred, papers scared around among piles of dirty clothing and old comics. Some of the contents were incriminating, notes of cases Tim had no business meddling in, but it didn’t matter because uncaring maids wouldn’t bother reading and neither would his parents. The only things Tim bothered hiding were the pictures he took of Batman and Robin, because those were not his secrets to be reckless with.

Looking around at the room he’s occupying, there’s no mess on the floor. No dirty laundry in sight. His photography gear is neatly put away on a shelf  — when was the last time he took pictures just for fun?  — and his school books are lined up for easy access. Even the pile of papers on the desk were organized in a chaotic way.  It looks less like a room where you live in and more like a guest room. Like when you’re staying over at a friend’s house and you’re overzealous of your belongings to make sure your presence is not a hassle.

He thinks of his room back at Titans Tower. He had no secrets there, no worries about hiding documents or anything of the sort. Even when his teammates didn’t know his real name, they knew him. He was Robin and that was enough. Being Robin was enough.

(Except Young Justice is no more and Tim doesn’t think they can get back together. Not with Kon and Bart gone.)

Tim wonders if that means he always knew he wasn’t meant to stay. Then he shakes his head. This is his family. It isn’t that different from when he lived with his father, after all, the only difference is that then there were less people minding his secrets, so he didn’t have to be as careful. He is Tim Wayne now. This is all he has.

He does have it, right?

Dick said they’d be okay. Dick was the first person to fully accept him. Maybe it had started out of misplaced love, a way to compensate that he hadn’t been there for Jason, but Tim accepted what he could get and Dick had been his brother since.

Tim stays in his room for too long, but it feels like no time has passed when he hears the telltale noise of the grandfather clock moving downstairs. Someone is leaving the cave.

The boy hesitates, thinking himself selfish for a moment. A voice in his mind that sounds painfully like Kon’s tells him to stop being stupid. Tim reminds himself that this is his home, this is his family… This is his life . It’s not perfect, but you only work with what you get.

It’s not surprising to him that Dick’s at the computer when he gets into the cave. Bruce drilled into their heads that you always write a report as soon as you’re able. Unless you’re injured, reporting after patrol takes priority over everything. Even Tim and Barbara, known for their photographic memory, weren’t exempt of that rule.

It’s not surprising.

Then why is Tim so angry? Dick doesn’t owe him anything. Surely Alfred told him Tim was fine. Checking on him was unnecessary and.. and it was what Dick would’ve done a couple of months ago.

“Hey,” Tim calls and it sounds harsher than he meant.

Dick startles before turning around. It’s somehow unsettling to see the man in the Bat cowl show such a human emotion and that somehow makes Tim angrier.

“Tim,” Dick starts, the shadow of a smile on his lips. “Alfred said…”

“You gave my old uniform to Damian,” Tim cuts him off.

This is not what he planned. He was supposed to ask Dick for an explanation calmly. There’s now another voice in his mind  — should he be worried about those?  — and this one sounds like Janet Drake’s telling him that it’s unbecoming to bark like that. He should keep his emotions in check. And yet.

“You said we’d be okay,” he grits out. “My entire life has burnt down. Again. I don’t call this okay, Dick. ”

And this is Dick’s problem, how? Tim wonders. His mind’s Kon tells him that Dick is his brother. His mind’s Jack Drake tells him real men don’t whine like that.

Dick sighs. “He’s my responsibility now. You’re not my protege, Tim, you’re my equal. My closest ally. You’ll be okay. But him? You know better than anyone that left on his own, he’s going to kill again. You have to understand…”

“I don’t,” Tim cuts him off again, unusually impatient. This isn’t selfish, right? This is his. He knows it, because other than the mission... “This is all I have now.”

“Oh,” another voice joins them, “you’re still here?”

You’ve got to be kidding.

Tim turns around and sees red. There’s the demon child in Tim’s colors spewing crap about upgrading security to keep out outsiders. Tim knows he says something, but he doesn’t remember what (he hopes he didn’t reveal anything he didn’t want Dick to know) and he tries to leave. (He can’t bear to see that.) Damian keeps running his mouth. (Tim already knows he doesn’t belong, maybe a part of him always knew). Dick doesn’t intervene.

Not until Tim is trying to knock a tooth out of the brat’s gargantuan mouth.

The message is clear: Tim served his purpose. He isn’t a priority anymore.

When he storms off, there are no more meddling voices in his mind but his own. He can tell Dick is calling his name and he remembers a time in which he thought he was temporary. At first he had asked Dick to come back, only taking the mantle of Robin when Dick told him to. Tim accepted it, deciding he would be Robin for as long as Batman needed him and retire as soon as someone more fit of the mantle arrived.

This has always been the plan. It’s no one’s fault but Tim’s that he had forgotten it. That he allowed a temporary arrangement to take over his life - to the point where, not that the time is up, he’s left on his own. That the rightful owner took back a mantle Tim had borrowed.

Tim used to be alone all the time. This isn’t uncharted territory.

[bat-lings]

Tim's connection to both Bruce and Dick was always a fascinating dynamic that sadly is lost or not paid attention to these days. I liked that Tim loved Bruce like a dad but also had this distance w/him where he wasn't emotionally dependent on him and understood his flaws very well. When Bruce was charged w/murder Dick didn't believe it but Tim was more open to it. Bab's had to get Dick to understand that Dick is to Tim what Bruce is to Dick. Tim was emotionally reliant on Dick. Not Bruce. -

About this

You make such interesting points.

Dick was a crucial supporting & inspiring figure in Tim’s life. And while Bruce was his idol too, he didn’t become his parent until pretty late in their relationship. But Dick has been Tim’s confidant since almost the beginning. Mind, Bruce regularly went out of his way to reassure/comfort Tim and Tim definitely got a good share of validation from him. But Dick was Tim’s brother long before Bruce was his father.

Yet like you very justly mention, he wasn’t blind to Dick’s own subjectivity. Even with how he looks at his idols, Tim can be extra lucid.

[Gotham Knights #26]

(I. I like Murderer/Fugitive a lot okay)

I love how that lucidity meddles with child-like adoration in the same character. I feel Tim can take the best out of each of his idols while being aware of their limits & being able to identify what’s not to emulate blindly. It should allow him to forge a better path for himself, and imo that’s the direction his character should’ve been taken in rather than… whatever Nicieza decided to do in the end of his runs in both Robin and RR.

I adored that discussion between Tim and Cass too, it was a rad look into both characters’ heads.

I didn’t read Cass’ position the same way though. I think she’s idealistic, but that it doesn’t come from innocence or naivety. After the abuse she suffered from Cain, after escaping and leaving on the streets alone for years, and with the constant feeling of inadequacy she had to battle with (needing to be a hero but wondering if someone with her past deserves it), I think she’s well aware of her own ‘darker reality’. It’s not precisely the same as Bruce’s or even Tim’s, but finding her path while struggling not to let her own demons consume her is something she’s been doing for a long time.

It’s a very personal reading but I think Cass is idealistic because she knows ‘reality’ all too well, and needs to believe that even someone with her past can be saved & be a savior. She chose to believe that even if Batman’s ideal cannot be achieved, it’s still worth fighting for. She’s a lot like Bruce in that regard. It’s not that she’s not aware of the darker reality behind the cowl, I think. But she all the more wants to fight for that ideal and to be the hope the bat-symbol represents. Tim tells her that Batman’s mission is just an ideal, and she’s like, “yeah, so what?” Because to her it’s not the point. They still have to try.

[Batgirl (2000) #59]

To go back on Tim’s pov, I agree that at least at some point he’d probably feel Dick is the only livable candidate for the cowl. Reading his exchange with Cass, I feel he probably sees her position as sheer naivety— their exchange makes it obvious that he respects her and that he knows both their positions are worth to defend ("we could go on forever/let’s agree to disagree"). But he sees anyone who’d want to be Batman as delusional? Idk that’s how I read it. Hating the very idea to become Batman is such an important part of Tim’s character that I think he’d see anyone who’d want it as not knowing what they’re getting into.

Maybe he’d see Cass as a good Batman candidate later on, but until then Dick would probably be the only one in Tim’s mind with the required headspace. Dick is the one who knew Bruce the longest, is extra aware of his faults no matter how much he loves him, and he doesn’t want to be Batman either. Just that would mean, for Tim, that Dick knows not to get caught up in the ideal & take on the cowl while being wary of the darkness.

[the-phoenix-heralds]

Reasons why Tim Drake has ADHD

First off I’m head cannoning that he has the inattentive type/ADD because that’s what I have (and most of the ahdhers I know have) and thus what I’m most familiar with. I’m also going to use examples from canon and fanon (because sometimes the fandom understands characters better than DC). I’m relatively new and unread to the DC/Batfamily universe so please tell me if any of these feel OOC or you have any other evidence!

relies on coffee (many adhders such as myself use coffee as a stand in stimulant to meds/to give a boost when needed)

good at organizing others and acting as a leader (this is one of my own personal strengths(he can organize anyone but himself)

HYPER FOCUS AND SPECIFIC MEMORIES!!!! (seriously his focus on figuring out the identity of Batman and Robin is definitely a hyper-focus for him and this extends into his Robin work also his memory for cases can not be understated here (especially figuring out Dick Grayson's identity)

really bad at organizing most things but almost obsessive about things import to him (case files, Batman)

this boy convinced BATMAN to let him join his crusade after the death of Jason Todd (Do you know how many arguments Tim must have prepared?!)

and when Batman lets him on he emphasizes Tim’s brain (personal experience here but almost all the inattentive adhders I know are EXTREMELY gifted in their chosen area of study and at this point Tim would have spent YEARS on this hyper focus (canonically knew Batman and Robin's identity for years before he confronted them))       

decreased awareness of consequences (he joined Batman against crime at 13, ventured out on his own to find Batman when he was presumed dead and lost his spleen as a result, for all Tim’s planning he always down plays the risks to himself)

Insomnia (enough said)

Poor self image (this kid has been measuring his self worth against Batman for years and puts “the cause” first)(also goes with feelings of underachievement)

doesn’t always seem to be listening (because half way through the conversation he finally makes a connection in case he's been working for a week and by time he’s pulled himself back to the present he already has a rough plan for taking down the villain)        

Mood Swings (Satisfaction and joy from solving a case to feeling of inadequacy because Batman would have solved it better)

Low tolerance for frustration (entire relationship with Damian? plus if others doubt/won’t listen to him, he’ll try to accomplish the usually dangerous task himself without the help (proving Batmans alive))(also his high standards for his own work can leave him frustrated if his plans get thrown off)

lack of attention and focus(while this point may seem to go against everything else I’ve mentioned I have yet to bring up school, he dropped out (Red Robin 16) despite his obvious intellect he was struggling academically because his course work barely appealed to his strengths and interests)

difficulties prioritizing tasks (there's no way Tim didn’t put his vigilante work above everything else despite his struggles in school and his mental & physical health)

doesn’t always take others perspectives into account (canonically buys the teen titans a boat as their base without discussing it or asking what the others wanted in a home/base)(plus he has trouble telling the Teen Titans about all of the information/informants he has despite their complete trust in him)

difficulties coping with stress (has this kid ever met a healthy coping skill in his life? Tends to overwork himself and forgo sleep instead of setting longer term deadlines)

and finally comorbid disorders because their is no way Tim has just ADHD (definitely at least depression(and within neurodivergent individuals the rates of coexisting mental, developmental and learning disorders increases by a large margin)         

Please tell me what you think and shoot me an ask or message if you want to discuss this more! Thanks for reading :)           

[3one3]

The Sequel - 825

XO

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“We have that extra grainy whole grain bread you like, with all the seeds. Would you like a piece with some Nutella, or almond butter? Honey, maybe?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“A coffee, then? Cortado?”

“No thank you.”

“What can I give you? You look so unhappy right now.”

“Just let me be unhappy for a minute. I don’t have to be happy 24/7.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

Back away slowly, and as quiet as possible, André narrated in his head as he moved away from the desk in the home office, and the testy girl sitting behind it. Christina’s mom called. Few things could turn his wife into a dangerous and defensive creature to be wary of more quickly than her mother. Mrs. Martin had a list of topics to talk about. First among them was her desire to receive some of the money from chartering out Lilly XO. Aidan was receiving regular checks for his “cut”. Tim’s office handled that. He was supposed to give however much of that he wanted to their mother. Christina wasn’t involved, and didn’t even know how much the payments were. Evidently Aidan was getting less money of late because she’d blacked out a lot of weeks on the calendar on which the sailboat would otherwise be available for charter. She wanted the 184’ Perini Navi vessel available for herself, and didn’t know exactly when and where she was going to want it, so she just gave a list of dates on which she would definitely be at a landlocked horse show to the charter company so that they could rent Lilly XO for those weeks. She was a popular boat. They were getting large deposits months ahead of time for bookings, and those deposits were disbursed to Aidan and Christina. The rider didn’t notice the money drying up because it didn’t affect her.

That Mrs. Martin was interested in money didn’t surprise her. What surprised her was that her mom followed the money complaint with a request for a visit. She wanted to come see Lukas. Obviously that conversation went badly. Christina couldn’t believe her mother thought it was okay or decent to phone her up after months and months and months of nothing but sparse emails, and request some time with her grandson whom she’d otherwise never made an effort to get to know. Lukas wasn’t even aware that he had two grandmothers. The talk went on for an hour, and André drifted in and out of the room throughout. He knew what they were talking about but he thought most of what his wife was getting belligerent and upset about was really something else. He thought they were talking about one thing but arguing about another, and it was just as well. Christina’s relationship with his mother-in-law was a lost cause as far as he was concerned. He wanted it to be better. It just seemed impossible, and frankly, he felt, Mrs. Martin didn’t deserve better. Christina was brimming with hurt, betrayal, confusion, disappointment, and a sense of inadequacy. The player had come to accept that a healthy and interactive relationship with her mother wasn’t worth having to work through all of those things, because he didn’t think her mother was a worthwhile person. André didn’t believe anymore that her life would be enriched by a better relationship with her. He didn’t think she had anything positive to add to their lives. He didn’t want to have to see her wear that pissed off and wounded-deep-down face however many more times it would take to hash out everything between the two Martin woman so that they could begin to rebuild their relationship, if that were even a possibility.

The two Schürrle men played in the backyard while Christina worked through the emotions painting those things on her face. Spencer played with the boys and Lucky kept her company in the office. He was more helpful to her than André would have been just then. The Toy Fox Terrier was silent, soft, and sweet. He snoozed in her lap and looked adorable each time he yawned or wriggled closer to her stomach to get more comfortable. Petting the dog and watching him enjoy her doting and a totally carefree existence was very calming. Her partner hoped she was calming down, and figured she was using the time alone to go over everything she said and every position she took on what her mom said to make sure she definitely felt justified. He knew that no matter how much Mrs. Martin hurt her, Christina never truly wanted to hurt her back, or even disappoint her. He loved that about her, and often forgot that his girl was not as spiteful and fond of revenge as she made herself out to be. She was incapable of seeking retribution when the person who hurt her was someone she loved and when the hurt came from feeling like she’d let that person down. He forgot that. He forgot it when he assumed she was holding a grudge about having to move, and whenever he attributed some act of vengeance against him to her. The BVB man hoped she would conclude that she was fair and appropriate in whatever they fought about, and that she’d feel better once that was established. They were going on a date later. If she needed to spend the date decompressing and telling him what happened on the phone and how she felt about it, that would be okay. It would just be better if Christina was over it by then and looking for a fun time.

They were going to a restaurant and bar specializing in clean food and really chilled out music. She’d read about it somewhere and asked him if he’d go with her even though he wouldn’t like the tunes. By “chilled out music” she meant the emotive and instrumental-heavy stuff that she was into, and a whole lot of “foreign people we’ve never heard of but it all sounds so good”. The playlist on the place’s website had material by Malaysian and Middle Eastern artists, remixes of popular songs by little known DJ’s, and a bunch of remixed French music. There was also what was, in André’s opinion, a strange volume of photos of very good looking girls in heavily filtered, styled, and slightly hipster-ish snaps, all doing envious things like traveling, basking in sun at the beach, posing with their girlfriends, or lounging with their boyfriends. He warned his very good looking girl that he thought it looked like some kind of “lesbian hangout”. She assured him it wasn’t, but wouldn’t tell him exactly where she read about it. The other thing about the restaurant that concerned him, particularly after the phone call from her mom, was that all that moody music could easily trap Christina somewhere low and lonely. She liked music that did that to her. She enjoyed emotionally powerful instrumentals because she liked having her feelings tugged hard and far.

The injured Bee didn’t want to see his girl down again. She’d been home for two entire weeks with him and everything was great. He asked her not to go to Mallorca for Juan’s birthday. There were three reasons in the case he presented. First among them was that he just didn’t want her to go away. He wanted her to pick him instead. Secondly, the tabloids in the UK made a big deal out of Christina and Juan leaving the restaurant opening together. The party was still winding down when they made their departure, and there were still photographers around. There were pictures of them walking to the player’s car together, very close, and of them getting into the Aston Martin. Whoever actually wrote the nonsense “article” that accompanied the pictures speculated about where the ex-Chelsea-WAG would lay her head that night since it was public knowledge that her equestrian estate was empty. He or she prompted readers to think about why the two friends were leaving “early”- why Juan didn’t stay until closing, or at least closer to it. All the others picked up the story too, and it spread to the German counterparts. Christina and Juan were just as unhappy about it as André. The BVB player’s third appeal for his wife to skip the birthday was more about Monday than Sunday. He wanted her to go to Munich with him to see the doctor about his ankle, and to get hers checked out at the same time.

The rider found in his favor. She didn’t go to Spain. Juan’s birthday wasn’t ruined. His family went, and so did a couple of friends. Everybody’s Monday was ruined when Müll told André not to expect to play again until after the season was over. He had advice and treatment to offer but none that would get him fit again in time. They set their sights on the summer tournament instead, but even that was iffy. Christina tried to put a positive spin on things by highlighting his increased availability for vacation, and said he could go to some shows with her. It still sucked. André was still miserable about it, and frustrated, and bored. He wanted to play, or even just be able to train with his teammates. His injury made his workdays lonely and unfulfilling. It was nice, however, that his girl sounded excited about having more time together, and that she wanted him to go to her competitions.

Another reason not to go away was that Melanie finally had the baby. His aunt and uncle stopped on their way home from Munich to meet him. The Schürrle family platinum blonde genes beat out the Coletti family’s dramatic black, so the little boy looked a little like Lukas. Mom and baby were both healthy and happy, the grandparents on both sides were thrilled, and the new father was humbled.

Dortmund couldn’t get the win to keep them third in the table at the weekend, but a draw was good enough to guarantee them fourth at worst, which meant Champions League football was secured again. It was difficult for André to sit in the stands and watch his team dominate the game but fail to find a breakthrough against a team who hadn’t beat them at home in years. Christina went with him, and that made it less terrible than it could have been. He was really glad to have her at his side for the good and the bad all week. He hadn’t realized how alone he felt in significant moments for a while until he experienced having a partner there to literally hold his hand while he got bad news, while he met his nephew, while he watched his team suffer, and while he worked hard to keep his happy face on. Another thing he rediscovered during their week of uninterrupted togetherness was how inspiring it could be to watch the number-2-ranked rider in the world work on her craft.

He watched her from the gazebo outside. He watched from the bleachers in the indoor, from the comfortable seats upstairs behind the glass, and from the faux brick wall in the middle. He even watched at a distance from the kitchen windows. The venue and the distance made no difference. It was magical to see her figure Cartagena out from the basics of what he was all about to how to make him do what she wanted, the way she wanted. The barn collectively decided that the little gray’s nickname would be “Vegas”, because each ride was a gamble. Christina said he reminded her of Dirk when he was green. Some days he came out ready to work, and some days he was so disinterested that it was hard to get anything out of him. André really liked watching her make progress on the puzzle. It was all very different from watching her work with the other horses, most of whom required only maintenance rides. She was different too. The work seemed to really matter to her. Having problems to solve that she actually felt equipped to do something about was almost new. Her personal problems were so difficult and murky that she always felt like a tiny person at the bottom of a stepladder with steps that were way too far apart for her to manage. That was demoralizing. She could look at Vegas’ issues and shortcomings and feel confident that not only did she know what was necessary to fix them, but also that she could do it. She even sounded a little excited when she told André about the progress she made, or about something she was able to make happen between Kyle and the Dutch horse. The footballer believed everything was starting to feel “right” again. His wife was behaving like the person he thought she was and needed her to be, and having her back meant that even though things weren’t going so well for him, he didn’t have to feel anxious all the time, or on edge. There were other great things in his life besides football, and he could focus on those and enjoy them even more than usual while he was sidelined. When Christina trudged outside to find him, he hoped it wasn’t all about to fall apart because Mrs. Martin got involved out of nowhere.

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Hi. Hi, Munchkin. What are you making?” She bent down to kiss her son’s head. He was sitting in the grass with a frying pan, a plastic army tank, his scooter, a toy cell phone, and Dave the pony.

“Eggs,” he told her. He was always making eggs in his frying pan, because the rest of his toy food was fruit, or a whole head of broccoli.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Not eggs.”

“How about chicken fingers and fries?”

“Okay. Mommy, does Spencer like eggs?”

“No.” Please don’t try to feed your plastic eggs to the dogs, Christina winced. She also reminded Lukas that he needed to lift the frying pan and let the eggs slip out. There was an extreme panic attack one day when she watched him reach into the pan and pick up the faux food. Obviously it wasn’t hot and there was no burn risk, but his mom was afraid he would learn that it’s okay to take food out of pans with one’s fingers and that he would burn himself one day. He got a pair of tongs to play with after that, and a lesson on how to use his toy spatula, which he called “the flipper”. “What game are you playing?” she asked André after taking a seat on his hip. He was lying on his side and elbow in the grass to supervise the imaginary frying operation.

“I’m playing Look At Pictures Of New R8’s On The Internet Because I Kind Of Want One.” He patted her behind and then went back to scrolling on the iPad in his other hand.

“Um, don’t we already have one?” She turned to the left to look in the general direction of the garage.

“I want a new one. Are you really making chicken fingers and fries?” That would be a remarkably un-Chris-like dinner, the footballer thought absently.

“Grilled chicken fingers; leftover sweet potato wedges. Are you that bored already with not playing that you need a new toy?” his wife asked sympathetically. André bought cars to make himself feel better the way she ate pizza and cheeseburgers.

“Yes.” His answer was short and he made no attempt to evade the implied accusation.

“Do you want to get rid of a car, or are we going to have 6?”

“I don’t want to get rid of any of mine. Do you want to get rid of any of yours?”

“No.”

“Six it is. Do you think there’s room to park some in the barn garage? I don’t mind the trucks being out, but we’re out of room inside for the cars.”

“I don’t think you want them anywhere near the tractors, babe,” Christina chuckled. “Kyle is doing all the dragging and mowing and stuff because Tom isn’t really a farm maintenance kinda guy. I wouldn’t trust Kyle to drive a tractor near my car.”

“Okay. Do you want to maybe look at cars with me tomorrow afternoon?”

“Maybe.” There was a tired sigh after the response to André’s question, but he was sure it had nothing to do with Audi sports cars. He supported her back so that he could roll onto his without letting her fall. Instead she ended up sitting on his stomach, where he could look at her more directly without twisting his neck.

“How are you, Prinzessin? Are you finished with your unhappy minute?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to have that...interaction, today.” Her answer was kind of flat and unconvincing.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to go out if you don’t feel like it.” He rubbed her lower back and blocked the sun from his eyes with his other arm. It was hard to see exactly what her face was willing to tell him about her mood.

“No, I want to. I’ve had this craving for a drink all day, even before my mom,” she told him with an eye roll. “And I’d rather have it out, somewhere social. I hate drinking at home.”

“What kind of drink?”

“XO vodka and Sprite with lime. I haven’t had it since that thing we went to with Marco. It’s his thing, really.”

“I know. Hey,“ André said as if about to make a proposal. He even stopped to hold his lips between his teeth for a second while he decided if he really wanted to propose anything. “If you want a social night out, why don’t we invite Marco? I can tell him not to bring Zoe,” he clarified with a knowing smile the second he saw Christina’s countenance flatten. They’d been talking more. He’d finally gotten her to open up about things like why she wasn’t enthusiastic about invites to socialize with his teammates’ girls, including Marco’s. “Or did you want to just be social with me?”

“You can invite Marco but only if you promise it won’t just be you two talking about Borussia things.”

“I promise. We’ll discuss Prinzessin things too. How about you get Mausi dinner started and then you go get ready? I’ll help him eat until Espen gets here.” He thought she might want to get herself pretty’d up if she were out for some cocktail-lubricated schmoozing. She liked to dress for not just the mood she was currently experiencing but also, sometimes, the one she hoped to achieve. André figured she might have a more fun, regenerative evening out if she dressed for a fun evening out, and if her friend was there to entertain her. Marco could make her laugh, tended to side with her on many issues, would gang up on André with her, could poke fun at her without upsetting her, and could steer conversations into weird, wonderful, or interesting places. His teammate really wanted to make sure Christina forgot the call with her mom, and he didn’t want her to get bored going out with just him and Lukas. They’d gone out for a few family dinners, and had adult-only dates, afternoon outings, and even two exploratory breakfast adventures in the neighboring towns. They were home together the rest of the time. He had opportunities to socialize with his friends and teammates at Brackel at lunchtime and such every day even though he couldn’t train with them. She had her barn people to talk to. Other than that, she didn’t get to see anyone, or do much. The footballer wanted to make sure she got out enough and had enough different activities to prevent homesickness. He didn’t want her to have any extra excuses to go back to London for a visit, or to run off to Juan’s beach house. There was just one week left until her next horse show, so it would be a significant thing if they made it through a whole 3.5-week bloc together with just her one-night defection at the beginning and no major fights. As his own injury situation grew more bleak, Juan’s improved. The Spanish player was back in his team at the weekend and doing fine, so those tentative ideas about him going to shows with her and spending time on the boat or at the beach were looking unlikely. André didn’t want anything to encourage his girl to make up for it by just heading to London.

“Mkay, but I hope you don’t think I’m getting super fancy.” She shrugged and eyed him dubiously, feeling like there was something strange and conspiratorial afoot. He was being too accommodating and thoughtful.

“No, not at all. You said it’s a casual place, yeah?”

“Yeah. Are you going to get pretty too?” Christina leaned over to finger-comb the front of his hair back.

“Of course. Can’t let Marco be the prettiest one there.”

“Hey!”

“Heyyyy. Go make chicken fingers.”

[bat-lings]

Thoughts on the Tim and Damian "rivalry"?

Unconvincing at best and really forced at worse.

Firstly because trying to sell a rivalry between a sixteen-old and a ten-year-old just. Doesn’t work for me. It kinda makes Tim look like an asshole whenever he’s throwing the first punch at an unadjusted and formerly abused preteen tbh.

[Red Robin #1-2]

Yeah Tim is in a bad place, we all react badly when hurting, okay. What bothers me about this scene is that it should’ve been framed like a misstep on Tim’s part and that it wasn’t. Alfred pats him on the back? Really, would Alfred condone that?

Ahem, back on subject. Secondly I don’t find as much basis to this rivalry as we’re made to believe there is. It’s one-sided on Damian’s part, so by definition there’s no rivalry to speak of— outside of Batman & Son anyway.

That arc aside, Tim and Damian’s dynamic has actually little to do with rivalry. Plus, every reason that can possibly be given for them to compete over just doesn’t hold for me.

>> Fighting or detective skills? For all his super ninja/assassin training, Damian is ten. Tim has nothing to envy him training-wise & is more experimented, meaning he can beat him the second he starts trying. As detectives and while Damian is far from inapt in that area, Tim does have a natural ability in detective work and he is, again, more experimented. I’m not selling Damian short in either department, he’s ten and Tim’s sixteen, it’s normal. Tim knows that, he’s got no reason to feel threatened by Damian’s skills.

>> Bruce’s love? I’ve never read Tim as seriously doubting Bruce loves him tbh. Most of his insecurities come from doubting himself as Robin, not as someone Bruce cares about. Yes it can overlap in a kid’s mind, an probably does to some point in Tim’s— but not that significatively to my understanding. His relationship with Bruce is actually pretty swell by the time Damian arrives*.

[Robin (1993) #123 & #163]

*Those issues respectively happen before and after Damian’s character is introduced. He didn’t change things all that much if at all, considering.

>> The Robin mantle? Let’s separate this into Before / After Bruce’s death.

Before Bruce’s death, Tim’s place as Robin is secure. Bruce has legit no intention to give the mantle to Damian. Bruce repeatedly went out of his way to praise or reassure Tim.

[Robin (1993) #9, #166, #17, #106 & #74]

+ several other times I’m not putting there since they weren’t in Tim’s presence. For context Robin #17 has Tim disobeying express orders to stay put ‘cause he doesn’t have a choice. He doesn’t even have the time to worry Bruce will chew him out before Bruce does the opposite.

I don’t mean that a few sweet words here and there magically cure all of Tim’s insecurities. They don’t. But they’re still there for Tim to hear. And Bruce’s opinion aside, Tim himself trusts his skills more and more as time goes by (tbh I see him as more confident than fanon sometimes makes him to be). The tale according to which Damian shatters that confidence all by himself leaves me unconvinced.

Batman #665 has Tim going after a villain who beat the shit out of Bruce to prove his worth after Damian’s arrival but that really feels… off, for Tim. Throwing himself at an enemy he knows he can’t beat when it’s not a last resort is just not like him. Tim grew into Robin with Jason’s death firmly in mind, in a narrative that blamed Jason’s death on his own recklessness, and was always careful to do better & not to run headfirst into danger without a plan.

Even if Tim could possibly feel threatened as Robin, Damian at this time has no qualms about killing. A kid that’s okay with killing from the get-go is not a Robin candidate in Bruce’s mind, and Tim knows that.

After Bruce’s death, the reason Dick gave Robin to Damian is because Damian needed it more than Tim did (and because it was the only way to keep Damian in check). It had nothing to do about their respective abilities or what they deserved. And it’s not why Tim is hurt– he’s hurt ‘cause Robin was the only remaining stability in that shitstorm period of his life. Damian himself actually has very little to do with it. It’s Dick Tim’s angry with. And since the title has already been taken away from Tim, there’s nothing left to fight for anyway.

>> The Batman mantle / who’s Batman’s fittest successor? Tim doesn’t want to become Batman. Like. He really, really doesn’t want to become Batman. He associates it too much with Bruce’s unhealthy psyche.

I was gonna go panel hunting but @nightwing-ing-it already did all the hard work so I’ll shamelessly let that rad post do all the argumentation for me: /post/174701270362/tim-drake-not-becoming-like-batman (I’d just add ‘Tec #621 to the list since it shows that Tim has never wanted the cowl and has been conscious of its worst facets from the very beginning.)

(Yes tumblr blacklisting posts with links from the tags is annoying, I’m doing what I can)

Damian wants to succeed his father in every sense because he was taught to want it. He’ll probs grow out of it (I hope). Until then Tim’s reaction if Damian ever claims to be the fittest successor in front of him should be along the lines of “sure, whatevs.”

Conclusion: any strong feeling of inadequacy, of lack of skills, of being threatened– those should be experimented by Damian only. Whenever Tim is made to strongly believe he actually has something to compete for against Damian, I have trouble finding credibility in the narrative.

A rivalry doesn’t feel natural to me. It feels like a flawed construction made up on the spot to fit a flawed idea.

And to be fair, canon itself didn’t force it all that much. Morrison suggested said rivalry during Batman & Son ‘cause it went with all his family metaphors I guess. But that arc aside there isn’t any other occurrence (that I remember) where Tim is actively participating in a “rivalry”. He mostly reacts to Damian’s provocations, but he’s not competing for anything.

Whatever rivalry was hinted at between the two doesn’t have a big place in canon at all. Damian being barely even mentioned in Tim’s Robin run, my feeling is that any kind of true rivalry wasn’t meant to play a role outside of Morrison’s Batman & Son narrative.

Plus it’s not just with Tim: Damian is an abrasive brat towards everyone in the Batfam ‘cause he’s that insecure. He thinks everyone is his rival in some way.

[Gates of Gotham #2 || Batgirl (2009) #5 || Batman & Robin (2009) #1]

It’s not so much a Tim & Damian thing as it is a Damian thing, and I see little appeal in any narrative trying to say otherwise. It just doesn’t work in my mind… and again with the age difference, fam, it would make it ridiculous for Tim to engage in any kind of rivalry. Would you compete against a preteen 6-7 years your cadet saying they’re better than you?

If it wasn’t obvious enough: this is all a very personal take. Some points may be clumsily presented as facts— they’re not meant to be, it’s just that I’m too lazy to add “in my opinion” to each sentence.

Arguably most of my arguments don’t necessarily have much weight when discussing what a character might be feeling, rational-thinking aside. Many read Tim as way more insecure than I do, and a new arrival in any family can breed jealousy anyway. And there is jealousy between Tim and Damian.

But jealousy doesn’t always equal rivalry and I don’t read Tim as insecure enough to kill all rational thinking. Again you may see things differently and you’ll have fair reasons to.

Me? I like it as a one-sided thing for Damian to grow out of.

On that note, Damian is already far less agressive towards Tim by the time he comes back in Gotham during RR... up until the hit list thing, because it truly hurt Damian. As of Gates of Gotham there’s little spite left between them anymore.

God this is way longer than it should be. Shutting up now, thanks for the ask!