#red robin tim drake

[absolutewriter]

Miscalling

Before you read, please keep in mind that my media consumption of DC is very limited- I've mostly consumed the animated shows.

Summary: going out late at night for some juice leads to an interaction with one of Gotham's famous vigilantes- Red Hood Robin!

Red Robin/Tim Drake x reader

Masterlist, little notes at the end

All you had wanted to do was get some juice, it wasn't your fault that craving came at the perfect time of.. one in the morning.

Gotham was surprisingly less active, at least in the district you lived in. Sure there was always going to be petty crimes and probably murders, but the big bad villains? They stayed closer to the main districts, where the more influential people were. This was an advantage in your poor life, not usually having to worry about getting held hostage by a super powered villain- at least if you got mugged you had a chance of fighting back.

Opening the door to the closest 24-hour supermarket you took a deep breath, for a shitty part of Gotham this supermarket had some of the best air conditioning; well- for lower-gotham. It was practically empty, other than the poor cash register put on a graveyard shift. Not one for conversation, you give the register a nod as you pass by them, going straight to the drinks in the back to pick out the juice you oh so craved.

While walking back to the front after the struggle of picking one container of juice, your eyes catch on a delectable little treat. Oh, why not, can't have juice by itself can you… So you make your way back to the front with your juice and the sweet little treat. Treat yourself, and whatnot.

Checking out didn't take long, the very small conversation of answering questions- ‘cash or card?’ ‘cash’ ‘do you want your receipt?’ ‘no’ ‘have a nice night' ‘you too’. And out you were, making your way back to your house. Cracking open the bottle of juice to finally quench the craving, you stood at the edge of an alleyway to give yourself some time. It was refreshing, just what you needed so late- (early?) at night.

The sound of something falling in the alleyway next to you made the world pause, mind racing at the thought of finally getting unlucky and getting mugged or something. Despite your better judgement you leaned against the wall and looked over the corner- looking around trying to see the source of the noise. Very quickly your eyes land on the costume, a semi-similar costume that most people of Gotham would memorize. Feeling much better about the situation, you push yourself off the wall and turn to stand at the entrance and speak up.

“Hey!” the semi-loud call echos on the walls, “you're Red Hood, right?” The question stilled the air, the guy who was previously getting himself off the ground turning around to look at you. His half obscured face showed what was definitely confusion before he grew a smirk.

“Yeah, that's definitely me” he replied, dusting off his hands before making his way over to you. Being so close to one of Gotham’s vigilantes was nerve wracking, surprisingly, his lean figure somehow also muscular - probably because of the lighting, you assure yourself. “What're you doing out here?” He asked, leaning his arm on the wall after he got close enough to not need to raise his voice to talk.

“Juice” you replied, holding up the bottle and plastic bag still holding your sweet treat. He lets out an ‘ah’ as acknowledgment, nodding along as he eyes the bottle in your hand. “At one in the morning?” His question seemed judgemental, and offensive due to how he was also out late at night.

“Yes, at one in the morning!” You turn around and continue your way back to your apartment, “so rude - I thought Red Hood was nicer to civilians.” The scoff that follows you makes him laugh, pushing himself off the wall to follow you while giggling to himself like a little girl.

“C'mon, I'm just judging!” He tries to get you to look at him, walking right next to you and reaching out to grab your shoulder. “I'm just curious” he stops after, his hand on your shoulder causing you to stop too. “Oh, and…” he paused, the smile on his face showing he's trying not to laugh “I'm not Red Hood.”

“Excuse me, you just said you were!” You turn around and look at him sternly, though it was mostly playful. “So not only are you super judgemental of the people you keep safe, you're also a liar!” You press your pointer finger against his chest and lean closer to him. “Some vigilante you are…”

After you show your disappointment for him, he has the audacity to laugh. His laugh was cute, but the thought is forced away from your head quickly- it was pointed towards you and that is rude!

He grabs your hand pointing on his chest and holds it up, intertwining them together and shaking them a little, “I'm better than Red Hood, he's got a huge stick up his ass- y'know?” The question was rhetorical, obviously, but you replied anyways, “you're worse than an asshole” you mutter. Not even bothering to get your hand back as you shove his hand on your shoulder off and turn around to go back home. Red Robin doesn't relent and instead lets you drag him along, happily catching up and walking next to you.

“What could be worse than that?” He mutters to himself, and you leave him to think. He'll figure it out eventually, because Red Robin is the smart one- isn't he??

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

Man, I feel like I totally butchered his character- I haven't seen much content of him other than fanfiction. Might've accidentally made him too much like Dick, but I can't tell??

Maybe in the future I can redo this once I've fully grasped his character

Specially requested tag: @altea99

[luliadraws]

The implementation of Tim’s cowl

[chocor0se]

when tim is working as the ceo of WE in public half of the time he’s the perfect figure, looking fancy and being respectful while also being intimidating when he needs to be. the other half he’s so tired he just starts cussing at annoying people and flipping them off.

[feelingbat-ty]

(Dick calling Tim cause it’s two weeks till his 18th and Dick needs gift ideas damnit)

Dick: Hey Tim!

Tim: Dick, hi

Dick: Okay Tim.

Tim: yeah?

Dick: What do you want for your 18th birthday?

Tim, has everything he could ever possibly want: uhhh

Tim: A bottle of Jäegermeister.

Dick: Haha okay, now what else do you want??

Tim: Uhhhhhhhh

Tim: Two bottles of Jäegermeister!!

[tarta-de-limon]

Someone stop him...

I'm not a big Tim fan, and I haven't drawn him enough to know too much about how he looks, if that makes sense. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm doing all the batboys, kind of. So here's Tim so I can 'complete' my collection.

Here's the SpeedPaint too, for that one person who said wanted to see the SpeedPaints! I'll post every single one now, you cannot stop me 🗣️

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️: Uhhh, idk but, uh, for those who kind of have to watch out for flashing stuff, I recommend to skip the end because it's kind of...flashy, with all the effects. Just in case.

.

.

He looks like a malnourishment pigeon at first, but I genuinely picture him like that and I don't know why. Maybe is the hair.

I'm not good with lightning from that perspective, and I did not look for references. I never look for references because I'm lazy. Don't be like me, look for references because they help a lot 😭✋

[rube-too-many-fandoms]

Tim ‘the-world’s-greatest-detective’ Drake, 30 seconds after arriving on scene:

“The murder weapon was a golf club, the victim’s brother did it, and it has no connections to any of the Gotham rogues. Anyone have a pen?”

Tim ‘hasn’t-slept-in-80-hours’ Drake, trying to figure out why his frog shaped coffee mug Looks Like A Frog:

“what the ffukc are you” *blinks one eye at a time*

[spider-jaysart]

This is what comes into my head everytime with these nicknames

[jayson10traplo]

Tim angst 😞 sorry

[kristiliqua]

i’ve had this shit in my canvas for too long . idk dawg maybe i’ll color it eventually

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

This shadow is not my shape anymore (and I fear it will swallow me whole)

and I will do the best I can, with the little that I know - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader x conner kent

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: there's a bit of conflict among the three of them but it's not so bad, uuuuuh actual hints of plot here wowie

a/n: womp womp established relationship flash forward wtf else is new

Tim has realized, over the passing months, that juggling a daytime life in Metropolis and a vigilante life in Gotham is just as difficult as you'd told him it would be. Realistically, he'd known you were right, but there was a stubbornness in him that had rooted his feet to the ground every time the topic came up. 

There was no part of him that thought he could ever really leave Gotham. Most of the time, he's sure it's got to be some type of curse - the way the city wraps around you and pulls you closer, closer, under. No matter how many times he leaves, he can't seem to stay away forever. He always finds his way back. 

That part, for some reason, you'd agreed with. Something about how the past always drags itself back to you on broken, bloody legs had made you drop the conversation. 

Red Robin sighs, rolling his neck slightly as a stiffness begins to set in, an ache that never seems to fully go away. Kon is in Metropolis right now, no doubt, being every bit the hero he's fought so hard to be, shining in Superman's shadow. Tim wonders if he'll ever fully outgrow it. As the figure of Batman passes over him, Red Robin straightens, wondering if he'll ever outgrow this shadow of his own.

"Bruce?" Is the only thing you say when you answer your phone, puzzlement passing over your features as you step away from the conversation you'd been in, slipping away to find a quiet corner to deal with whatever news he's about to give you.

"We need to talk," is his only answer.

"I'm - it's not really a good time right now," you say, glancing around at the S.T.A.R. Labs employees bustling around you. "I'm, uh, working."

"I know," Bruce responds firmly. "That's what this is about."

Tim is already home when you unlock the door later that evening, throwing your keys onto the side table and toeing off your shoes quietly. He's got that scowl on his face, that furrow in his brow as he sits slouched on the couch, headphones covering his ears and eyes focused on his laptop.

You think back to the conversation you'd had with Bruce, about his assurance that he'd distracted Tim before he noticed anything and your counter that Tim always picks up a bit more than he'd let on. As he looks up at you, pulling the headphones off his ears, you hope Gotham's streets are dark enough to bury your secrets for just a bit longer.

"Do you think Batman's better than me?" If Tim's words hadn't caught you so off guard, you'd have laughed at the way his hair sits, flattened under where his headphones were.

"What?" Tim just looks down at your bewildered response, fiddling with the keys on his laptop as he pretends he'd never spoken. Slowly, you move to sit next to him, picking up the TV remote and idly flipping through channels with the volume on low.

"I don't want to be Batman's sidekick forever," he murmurs, and you pause, letting the TV stay on whatever news station it's on as you put the remote down on the coffee table.

"You're not a sidekick anymore," you point out patiently. "You're not Robin anymore."

"I don't think I'll ever get away from being Robin," he says lowly, turning to look at you with those eyes of his, wide and sad and still trying to grow up. On the television, some news anchor talks about how Superman saved Metropolis yet again - and then goes on about some little Superboy trailing behind him during the event. You click your tongue in annoyance and glance over, but there's a solemn sort of grievance in Tim's face that makes you hesitate.

"Timmy?" You say gently, reaching to brush a stray piece of hair out of his face. "I don't think…" You're almost relieved at the front door slamming open, Kon's stomping and huffing distracting you both from the way you'd been so desperately searching for the right thing to say. When Kon comes in and sees the TV, he scowls more, slouching down into an armchair and glaring. 

You reach to turn off the TV, but Kon's already opened his mouth to speak.

"It must be nice," he says harshly. You pause.

"What?"

"Kon…" Tim sighs warningly and you bristle - there's something about the way he says it, like this is a conversation they've had before.

"No," you say. "What?"

"It's just that it must be nice, is all," Kon shrugs. "Not to have someone's shadow to live in." Something thumps painfully in your chest at his words and Tim sighs again, closing his laptop and placing it on the coffee table slowly.

"I don't think that's fair," you respond, and you can't help but wish there was a little less bite in your voice. "I didn't ask to have to do this alone."

"Yea, but you get to, anyway," Kon bites back, and you straighten as Tim shoots him a warning look.

"Kon, drop it-" he starts, but Kon's stubbornness, the iron set of his stance, is something that you're both too familiar with to believe that he'll back down now.

"You've said it, too, Tim," he points out, and when you look imploringly at Tim, he shifts where he sits and glances over at you.

"Not like that," he says to you. "I just - sure, we're both, I don't know… you don't have anyone like Batman - or Superman tying you down, keeping you small." Your fists clench where they rest on your thighs as your eyes flit between the two of them, Kon's hard look and Tim's guilty one.

"You're right," you say, biting your tongue like it'll stop your voice from wavering. "I don't have anyone. I wish I did, most of the time." Kon sighs, letting his posture loosen as he says your name gently.

"We didn't mean it like that. It's just…" He trails off, glancing at Tim for help.

"Difficult?" You supply, and the two of them shrink a bit more under your hard stare. "It's… what? Hard, having a mentor? Someone who cares about you, who's looking out for you, who's trying to help you make sure you're doing this right?" Tim shifts where he sits again, his hand twitching as he tries to decide whether to reach out to you, whether to try to help you through the hurt that he's caused. 

Kon, in his usual fashion, stands abruptly and makes his way over to you, kneeling before where you sit on the couch and holding your hands firmly in his. Taking his cue, Tim reaches over to smooth your hair down and run a knuckle across your cheek gently.

"I'm sorry," Kon says honestly. "It's not fair of us… to… you know," he trails off and you can't help but huff out a laugh.

"I guess it's human nature for us to always want what we don't have," you supply.

"I'm only half human."

"I know, you freak." Tim snorts at your words and Kon tips forward to bury his face in your lap, letting you pat his head for a moment before you give his hair a little tug, urging him to look up at you.

"These shadows you're in won't swallow you whole," you say seriously. "You won't let that happen to each other - and neither will I." Tim leans to press a delicate kiss to your cheek before resting his forehead against your temple, whispering an I love you against the skin there. Kon lifts your interlaced hands to leave kisses across all your knuckles, in turn.

"You won't get lost out there," Tim says, pulling away to look at you. "We won't let you." You glance away from him when he speaks, letting your eyes flit over your phone where it rests on the coffee table, your conversation with Bruce about the mistakes of your past that you've been trying to bury replaying in your mind. If either of them notice the waver in your smile, though, they say nothing, letting you rest your head against Tim's shoulder with ease.

"Well," you sigh, squeezing Kon's hands gently. "What could go wrong then, really?"

[luliadraws]

“that’s a stupid outfit!” says the stupid outfit guy

[the-autistic-spider]

apparantly Tim Drake has burn scars

apparently in some comic he gained burn scars and over time the writers forgot

if this is real please show me

cause that sounds intresting

[chocor0se]

tim drake can either have a perfect lie that’s either planned or improvised or he just freezes up and doesn’t know what to say. there is no in between.

[dae-15]

ok so I just finished reading "I’m Pretty Sure Tim Steals Clothes: An Elaboration In The Form Of A Long Fic by PrinceJakeFireCake" and in here Tim like counts the amount of hugs he's ever received in his life right? Now last week I also read "Moon Jellyfish by xApricityx" which has Damian doing the exact thing...

So now I'm here begging someone to pls write a fic where they both do this like this stuff is what they bond over...

Just imagine the batfam and the justice league and whoever y'all want there just watching horrified as they talk about it... Like...

Damian: I have been hugged a total of 78 times 35 of which was before I came to Gotham

Tim: Huh, that's higher than mine I've only been hugged 74 times, and only 5 of those were from my parents

Damian: Talia indulges me very often

LIKE PLS?! IT WOULD BE SO GOOD!!!

[tarta-de-limon]

Sketch

[fangedbats]

Tim is Janet Drake’s son.

Oh, Jack is there — in the shape of his nose, the color of his hair — but Tim is hers in every way that matters. In the sharpness of his mind, the precision of his words, and the way he commands a room without needing to raise his voice. He is her reflection. People who knew Janet see her every time they look at him. They don’t just see the physical resemblance; they see her sharpness in the way Tim speaks, the way he moves, the way he narrows his eyes when he’s putting the pieces together. He’s a carbon copy, they’ll say, Janet’s boy through and through.

Without even realizing it, Tim mirrors her. The way she carried herself in a room — upright, composed, like nothing could touch her — he does the same, whether he’s at a gala or on a rooftop. He thinks the way she thought, always several steps ahead, with an ease that’s unsettling to those who don’t know him. And sometimes, Alfred will catch Tim tracing the rim of his glass with his fingers, a habit Janet had when she was lost in thought. When Alfred points it out, Tim will freeze for a moment, startled, before returning to his work.

Janet was ambitious, a master of strategy who thrived in high society, but she didn’t always show warmth or vulnerability. Tim inherited that same brilliance, that ability to adapt and survive, but he also inherited her flaws. Her distance, her tendency to shut people out when emotions became too complicated — he repeats these patterns, even when he doesn’t mean to. He’ll push people away and tell himself it’s for the best.

It’s not just strangers who see Janet in him. Tim feels it, too. In the way he approaches problems with an unrelenting drive, in the ruthlessness he tries to keep buried, in the moments he knows he’s more like her than he’d like to admit. And yet, there’s pride in that, too. He’s taken her sharp mind, her ambition, her adaptability, and turned it into something more. Her brilliance lives on in his detective work, in his ability to think his way out of impossible situations. Her poise serves him well when he walks into rooms full of powerful people, speaking with the same measured precision that made her so formidable.

But there’s a weight to being Janet Drake’s son. Tim didn’t know her long enough to truly understand her, and yet her influence looms over him in every way that matters. He wonders if he’s doomed to repeat her mistakes, if he’s inherited more of her flaws than her strengths. He keeps small mementos of her — a locket, a photograph — but he doesn’t look at them often. It’s too much, the reminder of what he lost and what he fears becoming.

Jack’s influence lingers in subtler ways, but it’s there. The warmth and humor Tim tries to show others? That’s Jack. The vow to never fade into the background, to never let life happen to him? That’s Jack, too, even if Tim would never admit it. But at the end of the day, the parts of him that matter most — the ones that made him who he is — are all Janet.

Tim may struggle with her legacy, with being her son, but he doesn’t deny it. He takes everything she gave him — the good, the bad, and the complicated — and chooses to make something better out of it. He doesn’t just carry Janet with him; he honors her, in his own way.

Because no matter what anyone else says, Tim Drake is her boy.