#tim drake sleep schedule

[sparkoflena]

I kinda get where Fanon Tim Drake Is Obsessed With Coffee And Never Sleeps comes from.

BUT I vote we give that trait to literally any other Batkid. Tim canonically naps all the time. Anywhere. In absolutely any position. And I think that concept is infinitely funnier.

Bonus: His favorite drink is Zesti Cola (DC/Off-brand Coke/Pepsi). I think drinking those all of the time could also embrace the humor of the ongoing joke. Imagine him drinking cola with his eggs and bacon and his family judging him for it? 10× funnier.

While we're at it; Tim's parents weren't around and he spent all of his time in BOARDING SCHOOL. Imagine writing through Escaping Boarding School hijinks every time he wants to do Robin Things.

I want this canon-based humor in my chaotic fanfictions please and thank you.

[redhood414]

Just had an ADHD moment. A thought popt into my head.

I just realised Tim would be more scared of me with my ADHD then sleep.🤡

Tim if we meet in another universe: you can't escape me noww

[morganbritton132]

I need one of those Tim Joins The Batfam Early AU fics but it’s just Tim being so sleep-deprived and delirious from staying up all night taking pictures of Batman and Robin that he confronts Jason about it at school because Jason never looks tired. He never acts tired. Tim has never even seen him yawn and Tim would know if he did because he watches him all the time.

He’s just like, what are you doing??? How are you staying up all night? How are you sustaining this? Jason interprets this as Tim asking him if he’s on drugs which does not go over well. He almost kicks his ass before he realizes that this kid seems to know a little too much about Batman’s patrol routes.

So, Jason ends up taking Tim home and introducing him to the wonderful concept of the afternoon nap.

[secretly-a-trekkie]

lol i think it is kinda funny how often we take our favorite overworked little guy (gender neutral ) and just go oh yeah he (gender neutral) hasn't slept in a month and his blood is now coffee and redbull but said guy (gender neutral) is just functioning mostly normally but with no filter

[redr0sewrites]

currently thinking about cuddling w tim while he's tired but can't sleep bc same

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I love Tim being depicted as having a caffeine addiction, but I have to confess that I never really saw him as much of a coffee drinker.

Idk why, but the mental image of Tim at ass o'clock in the morning typing away at his laptop with the rattiest hair, the ugliest eyebags you've ever seen, and a disgusting pile of empty Monster/Redbull energy drinks cluttering the floor just speaks to me.

[sonosvegliato]

Do you have an idea of when the third installment of To and Athlete Dying Young will be released? I need to know what day I need to put on my calendar because I've reread the second fic so many times and still each time I reread it it makes me feel sick to my stomach in the best way possible, but this is the first time I've actively sought out your Tumblr to learn more about your fics and you and I'm so excited for the third installment I've constantly been stimming for the past three hours ;o;

Ahahahahahaaaaaaaaa I am no longer hands deep into it I am full body in the cement. I am descending through the earth's crust. I am doing research on paintball for you. Please be safe when keeping with the Topeka potato tradition, the midwest is a scary place and sometimes we get dumped there for thanksgiving because our not-dad's butler says you gotta get outta the house but the himbo you recruited as your manservant won't let you plot revenge while he's still got the chickens to feed and your dumb not-brother has betrayed you by setting the human papershredder on you in the middle of a Steak and Shake like the utter audacity---

This will all make sense in approximately a few months. I've rewritten this thing so many times it has its own Google doc. Its own. I've written every fanfiction I've ever written for every fandom on one gigantic Google Doc but early though the laurel grows gets its own google doc because it thinks it's a special baby that deserves 209 pages of which 170 of them are me throwing them into the virtual incinerator and laughing at the confetti that comes out.

I'm so honored you looked for more on my Tumblr! I don't use it too much except to reblog fic rec lists, but occasionally I'll put some deleted scenes up that I know won't be used...maybe I'll start posting some of the 170 pages I chewed up and spat out and made into the Mona Lisa because I am LEONARDO DA VINCI over here dawg

I am continually working on early though the laurel grows, the last installment of To an Athlete Dying Young, but she is looking to be a hefty girl in more ways than one and as I am ripping apart her insides with my bare teeth and rearranging her within my jaws I don't want to start posting chapters when it's likely they'll change.

I'm so honored people are waiting for this? I've been writing To an Athlete Dying Young pretty much nonstop for over a year now, and I only want to share the best with you! Unfortunately I don't have a calendar date, but the work is moving and moving very fast. I'll give more updates (and more deleted scenes, there are a LOT) as I get closer to the finish!

A deleted scene dialogue as a treat:

“You’re remarkably clear-headed about this,” Bullock says, almost appreciatively.

“Well,” Tim remarks, knocking his temple with his knuckles. “Helps that it’s attached.”

Bullock’s mouth pulls. It’s gone as soon as Tim notices it. “Do you know of any reason someone might have a grudge against your guardian Bruce Wayne?” 

Besides the fact that he runs around as Gotham’s number one fearmonger and some criminals run just at the mention of him? Besides the fact that his son/current enemy number one came undead and now has some sort of blood vendetta against him? Besides the fact that Bruce Wayne is the Batman, and vice versa?

“Beats me,” Tim says.

[rewrittenwrongs]

Whumptober day 9: Alternate prompt prompt 11: Survivors Guilt

Read on Ao3 (registered users only) | Day 8 | Day 10 | Whumptober masterpost

CW: off-screen character death. And also some early game Subnautica spoilers

Technically posting this a day late, but there are no rules against posting on different days so I’m still happy with this. In typical me fashion I procrastinated writing this until like 9pm, then speedran it for a couple hours only to not be done when midnight ticked over, and decided actually I like sleep more than a posting schedule only to not fall asleep even once for MORE THAN FOUR HOURS. Is this karma for procrastinating? I’ve learnt my lesson.

Either way I’m really happy with this fic. I started playing Subnautica again recently and I’m kind of hyperfixating. Naturally, that meant I need to combine it with my other hyperfixation, Batfam. Strictly speaking Tim Drake is the POV character but you can easily read it as just being the player character.

Watching the radio light up as soon as Tim fixes it, indicating a received message, is both a proud moment and a stress inducing one. He just stands there and stares for a long moment. Dreading what news could be waiting for him. Then it sets in that it could be a distress signal from one of the other lifepods, from another survivor, and he slams his hand into the button before he loses his nerve.

It isn’t another survivor that speaks to him, it’s the Aurora’s AI. “This is Aurora. Distress signal received. Rescue operation will be dispatched to your location in 9…9…9…9…9… hours. Continue to monitor for emergency transmissions from other Lifepods.”

Tim exhales heavily, and resolves to do just that.

-

That night, as he’s struggling to catch more bladderfish and peepers, his PDA speaks up:

“Emergency: A quantum detonation has occurred in the Aurora’s drive core.”

Oh shit.

Tim watches in a daze, as if from outside his body, as he swims to the surface. Maybe twenty metres up. His gaze locks on the downed monolith of a ship immediately.

The AI keeps speaking. “The reactor will reach a super critical state in T-10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1—“

The explosion is even bigger and louder and scarier than he expected. Tim feels it in his bones when the shockwave slams into him. It feels like the world is falling apart. Not just physically.

So much for that rescue operation.

“For your convenience the radiation suit has been added to your blueprint database.”

-

The next day, just as he feeds the fabricator the ingredients for a radiation suit, the radio lights up.

Tim stares at it, feeling that same sense of apprehension. As if the state he spends his next few weeks weighs entirely on one recorded message.

He presses the button.

“Receiving pre-recorded distress signal. Playing back…” The next speaker is younger, female, accented: “This is Lifepod 3, uploading our coordinates. We’re plugging some holes in our emergency Seaglide, so if we’re late for the rendezvous, don’t panic. Also, don’t go home without us. Seriously. 3, out.”

She sounds strangely calm about the situation. Tim opens his tablet once he’s finished changing into his new suit, and opens the new coordinates. Also in the Shallows, 18 metres underwater. Tim wonders if their floatation systems never deployed or were damaged by something in the water. Maybe it was the shockwave.

Tim cooks some distressingly large eyeballs, drinks some not-vegan water, and heads out for Lifepod 3 within the hour. It takes him about 50 minutes to reach the Lifepod, and what he finds isn’t pretty.

It’s sunk to the bottom of a kept forest. It looks, perhaps at first glance, in decent condition. But circling it is enough to discover what went wrong. There’s a giant hole blown in the side of the pod. There are scorch marks on the walls inside and out, with sparking wires and dented electronics.

There is the ruined remains of a Seaglide barely two metres away. Scorched. Melted. Incomplete.

They tried to fix it and it cost them their Lifepod, and almost certainly their lives. Tim doesn’t try to keep his hold on the fragile faith in his chest. He scans the ruined device, collects a data box, and lets the dark, ugly, twisted thing in his chest grow a little bigger.

He sees no sign of any bodies.

Actually. The stalkers are acting docile. They’re not hungry.

He takes that as a sign to leave.

-

The next two signals are received minutes apart. He’s out exploring when they’re collected, and once he’s back in Lifepod 5 he hits play before turning to the fabricator.

“Playing pre-recorded distress call…”

“This is Ozzy from the cafeteria, what the hell guys?!”

Tim’s hands stutter and he nearly drops his copper.

“They didn’t warn us this might happen! Our pod was almost crushed by the Seamoth bay on the way down, now we’re hanging on the edge of a cave system and this grim-looking snake-thing’s trying to eat through the hull! Come get us already!”

Tim tries not to drown in the ugly-painful feeling of knowing that person, Ozzy, even if they only exchanged glances and the odd word or two. Ozzy was—is someone he knows. And by the sounds of it��

Maybe they’re fine. Ozzy and whoever else is in his pod are fine, and once Tim finds them they can all have a laugh before setting off the help the next survivor.

He wonders what the ‘grim-looking snake-thing’ is, if it’ll still be trying to eat the pod when Tim reaches it.

Tim plays the next recording while opening his tablet to find the Lifepod’s signal.

“This is Avery Quinn, of trading ship Sunbeam. Aurora, do you read? Over.”

A slight pause. Tim absently shoves a peeper at the fabricator.

“Nothing but vacuum. These damn Alterra ships. They run low on engine grease, they send an SOS; you offer help, they don’t pick up. Aurora, I’m out on the far side of the system, it’s going to take more than a week to reach your position, do you still need assistance? Over.”

Tim has no other word for the emotion he feels than indignant.

“I’ll try them again tomorrow. Damn charter’s going to have us blowing our credits running errands for Alterra. See what the long-range scans pick up in the meantime.”

Tim… decides, for now, that the best course of action is to shove his emotions in a box and focus on hope. Hope that the long-range scan is enough to rally their assistance, that Ozzy will still be alive when Tim reaches him.

The signal’s origin is more than 350 metres away. Depth of 100.

Tim studies the supplies he has on hand, debates how hungry and thirsty he is, and grabs the Grav Trap. Once he’s stocked with food and water he sets off with his new Seaglide.

He closes the distance in record time. It’s exhilarating, flying along past schools of fish and alien coral. If he didn’t feel the weight of peoples lives hanging on his shoulders he would waste his time swimming with the fishes and reefbacks. It’s… disarming, how pretty this alien world can be, knowing most of the creatures on it want to kill him.

It isn’t too difficult to find Lifepod 17. It’s lying on a sandbank next to a cave, one wall peeled back like the lid of a tuna can.

Tim spends a moment staring, then has to speed to the surface to take a breath. He stays there for a few minutes and tries not to cry. Then he glides back down.

The Lifepod hull is peeled back and torn open, visible teeth and scratch marks marring the metal. No blood, no signs of life. There’s the arm of a Seamoth lying nearby.

No alien sea snakes either. Tim wonders if that’s because it’s daytime. Either way, part of him is glad.

Tim downloads the data and heads back.

-

“Aurora, this is Sunbeam again. We picked up a massive debris field at your location. I didn’t know how bad… how many of you… I didn’t know. We are now en route to your location. We’re going to bring you home. Sunbeam out.

“What else can I say? The only time I parked a rig this big on a rock that small was in VR, and I blew it. Oh, it’s a bad option alright, but so are all the others.”

-

Tim throws an armful of rocks at the fabricator to figure out then slams the button on the radio. He lowers himself onto the storage cabinet and retrieves bandages from the medkit fabricator, trying not to shake as he peels back his suit and cleans the wounds across his legs.

“Playing pre-recorded distress call…”

“This is Officer Keen in lifepod 19! The captain is gone. I have assumed command. The last thing the captain did was give me coordinates for dry land. We regroup one and a half kilometres south-west of the crashsight. Stay together, and good luck. This message will now repeat.”

His PDA spoke up: “Rendezvous coordinates corrupted. Transmission origin coordinates downloaded.”

Once Tim is done patching himself back together, he collects his freshly-crafted supplies and stashes most of them in the storage box. He opens his PDA to glance at the new coordinates, feeling confident he can find the rendezvous without coordinates, and giddy with the knowledge that there are others survivors out there, only to pause.

Officer Keen’s last broadcast location is 300 metres below the water’s surface.

-

Just hours later, the next time Tim goes out for a scavenge and returns thankfully in one piece, there is a message waiting for him.

“High priority automated message from Aurora Lifepod 13. Coordinates attached.”

“Lifepod is carrying high priority passenger Jochi Khasar. I said Khasar! Why do I have to record this anyway?”

“Send immediate burial detail.”

Tim pauses, and looks at the radio. Burial details?

-

12 days after the Aurora first crash landed on this ocean planet, Tim receives the call he’s been hoping for.

“Aurora, we’re approaching the planet now, and we have a landing site for you that’s… well, it’s better than the alternatives. We’ve sent you the coordinates.

“It’ll take us a couple of days to align our orbit, we should be able to establish direct contact with you during that time, then we’re coming to get you. Cross your fingers the weather holds, and don’t leave us waiting. Sunbeam out.”

The Sunbeam is on its way. They send him coordinates for the landing sight. It’s over a thousand metres away, but with his Seaglide Tim can get there in just an hour or two.

He spends the next day and a half more or less gathering materials, knowing he won’t need them soon, but wanting something to do with himself. He sleeps, as usual, on the floor of his Lifepod.

The next morning he fabricates some cured fish and clean water, makes a spare battery for his Seaglide, and swaps the battery in his flashlight. Then, just as sunrise begins painting the sky, he sets out for the landing sight.

His imagination runs rampant as he starts the journey. He wonders what the landing sight will look like. He wonders how many other survivors will be there. He wonders if Officer Keen has been able to swim to the surface. He wonders how much time he’ll have to spare—the Sunbeam won’t land for another 90 minutes at least, and he’s already nearly halfway there. He wonders if he’ll find new creatures around the island, new plants and environments. So far it’s mostly kelp forests—he’s getting sick of stalkers.

He busies himself with questions as the Seaglide carries him. He listens to the reefback leviathans, and wonders briefly what other types of leviathan there are, before deciding he doesn’t want to know. He wants to go home. And thankfully, he is. Pretty soon he’ll be safe and secure on the Sunbeam and saying goodbye to this hellhole of an ocean.

Tim finally steps foot on the island 80 minutes after he set off, hoping and praying that there will be other survivors to meet here, and that he’ll never have to see another stalker or drink another fish ever again.

He has no idea just how wrong he is on both accounts.

[bi-bats]

💫 🦋 and 💌 for the fic writer asks?

hey bestie!!!!! I thought I'd see you in here 😂 thank you for reblogging the same post so I could ask you a few too!!! 💖 okay here we go:

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

I have a very specific favorite comment format and it's so fucking needy of me so no pressure to anyone reading to comment like this!!! but my favorite kind of comment is 1000000% when it's formatted like this:

["Snippet of something I wrote"] the commenter's reaction to that specific bit

Sincerely, I've said it before and I'll say it again: in the least creepy way possible, I would watch everyone react to every line of my fic if I could. Sometimes I just write a line I'm really proud of and I want it to be the line that makes someone laugh or shout or tear up and I love when people tell me what parts made them feel things!!! Also sometimes people point out lines that I didn't think twice about, ones that just came naturally, but they still make people lose it and I love that just as much!!

a close second favorite kind of comment is just when people leave me a really, really long comment about the things they loved in the chapter. Seriously, every time I get a comment that's an essay it makes me want to never stop writing 😂 Basically, much like my Jason, I'm a sucker for praise.

🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?

Oh noooooooo I have to be vulnerable??? Fuck. Okay, fine.

I'm usually the most insecure about the way the tone of the scenes flow together. I'm a bit of a freak about the plotline? And when I say 'a bit of a freak', I mean I have a full-size corkboard with all of the plotpoints of Know Yourself on it. Like I'm Charlie in that one gif from It's Always Sunny with the insane red string conspiracy theory board. Below is the Evidence in case you thought I was joking (I blurred out everything that was a spoiler, don't worry. Or sorry):

...Yeah. It's a lot. Sometimes I just really struggle with feeling like the moods/tone flows from scene to scene. If they're mad at each other, I need it not to feel like they're forgiving each other too easily. If they have a huge argument, they can't just go back to exactly how it was before (looking at you, chapter 7 of Know Yourself, which is giving me an absurd amount of trouble). Thus, the corkboard. It lets me quickly look at everything I've already written (without reading all *squints* 50k words I've posted, jesus fucking christ) and figure out if everything I'm working on makes sense with what came before that.

And yeah, it is a lot of work and dedication for the silly little fanfics I write, but it's sort of like a puzzle to me? It's satisfying to untie all the tangled ideas I have and make them into something pretty.

That said, TimKon never gives me as much trouble as JayTim. I should really post some of my TimKon stuff lol

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Oh my god, this was cruel. You may not have known this was cruel, but this was cruel. Because the last time you sent me an ask, I knew I had a ton of ideas and I teased like two of them, but since then, the JayTimWeek prompts went up. And I promised myself I wasn't going to write something for every day, but then I blinked and I had ideas for every single day.

So, what to do? Do I post a snippet from one of my JayTim week WIPs? Do I post a minor spoiler for Know Yourself that you asked about in one of your comments? Do I drop all 6k words of chapter 1 of a long TimKon fic that's been sitting in my drafts for months? Do I tease an idea that I'm submitting for a zine? Do these questions count as an answer to the prompt, because I can't decide which I'm the most excited about?

No, I'm not that mean 😂 Here are two of the lines I'm most proud of from the next chapter of Know Yourself, which are in the same scene but not next to each other and don't spoil anything:

Jason was the one who had overreacted in the first place, filing Tim’s teeth to a sharp point in the hopes that he’d bite.

But then he fucked it all up. He’d done what he did best: tried to freeze over his white-hot anger, and still managed to be surprised when the ice cracked and steam shot out.

Thanks for the ask!!! I love doing these so thank you for making me answer and giving me an excuse to rest from writing (although @lovetimdrake is going to send me a meme in like 3 hours bullying me (rightfully) about how I'm supposed to be betaing their fic lol)

[iwishiwasawhiteguyin1985]

Literally, bc ollie for all his faults legit tries to be there for his family and even if he doesnt get it quite right, steps up for them however he can.

Like ‘oh, my teenage son is being teen angsty and wants space? Okay. Ill uh…. Ill be right here. I will aggressively remind him im here on occasion and just watch and uhhh….. ope hes going too far so nooe, sorry kid, hi yeah no you dont get to tell me to fuck off this time nice try’

And bruce gets like…. So personally affronted by it. Like… teenage dick being a teenager??? And angsty??? And wanting and having friends and to be his own person? ‘Okay fine then bye leave the manor and you are no linger my robin’

Like wtf?????

Now i do enjoy fanon good dad bruce, i like those stories where bruce actually has a good grasp on what mental health is but like…. I find the ones where hes toxic AF and his kids eventually force him to see that post time stream incident are way more realistic imo. Idk. They just seem more true to him.

I also love it when fics have more than the bat fam in them and those other people call them out on their absolute bullshit. Like…. Please do. Please inform them of how fucked up this all is.

I also honestly prefer fics where it focuses on the kids and leaves bruce out of it bc like, lbr…. Bruce was always Batman. He wasnt really much of a dad. I think theres moments where he kinda tried that with Jason but he never fully got there and then jason died and it wasnt until damian that he kinda tried to be a dad again. But even then it was meh.

Idk these are just my thoughts. Theres things i like abt fanon but. Yeah.

Literally all the other mentors seem to care more about their sidekicks/proteges than B does. Like don’t get me wrong i think Bruce does care, but I also just think he doesn’t have the capacity to really truly show them and care for them the way a dad should. Not really.

Like again, i do enjoy a good good-dad-bruce fic but. They are very clearly deeply rooted in fanon with a pinch of some of these events happened in canon at some point. Like Jason dying.

(Which, i know, part of that is bc what on gods green earth is the canon continuity, you really gotta not squint too hard theres too many conflicting timelines so to an extent you have to just kind… mash puzzle pieces together but also…. I feel like it’s a thing that a lot of good dad bruce fics really stretch that to the extreme.)

So yeah. Thats my comments. Im running on like enough hours awake that Tim starts getting concerned looks and comments about how sleep is a good thing so take my ramblings with a grain of salt.

becoming a fan of non-bat characters really will suddenly make the batfam seem insufferable and render 99% of batfics unreadable😭

"bruce takes in roy and shows him what a REAL father figure is" i think oliver should go tell bruce to shoot himself

[ms-dead-inside]

Okay, but hear me out:

Murder baby Damian, but for whatever reason, his first attempt at Tim's life is put on pause, so they never have that interaction. Instead, before Damian can come up with a new plan, Tim (who's kinda excited he now isn't the baby of the family) offers to train him in detective work for when Damian finally gets the mantle of 'Robin' as a way to bond with him.

"Why train your enemy, Drake?"

"We're brothers, not enemies. Besides, Robin has always been a mantle to pass down. I'm certainly not going to keep it in my twenties or thirties. And other than Bruce, I'm the best detective in the family."

"Very well, Drake, I shall accept your tutelage for the time being."

Damian accepts, of course. Not only can he study Drake for his weaknesses, he will also improve his own skill set. It's worth the wait for Robin. By the time Damian's done, there will be no doubt that he is the superior bat.

Unfortunately, he actually grows fond of Timothy. While he will inevitably get close with Richard, just like in canon, Timothy is a breath of fresh air for when Richard is being too overbearing, especially when it comes to things like 'socializing,' and 'making friends.'

When his father dies, and Timothy declared him actually lost to time, Richard doesn't believe him, can't believe him, because the hope is too painful. Timothy still gives Damian Robin, because, "I'm barely holding on as Batman as it is. I can't handle Robin being gone for potentially months at a time, halfway around the world."

During his partnership with Richard, truly becoming his brother-son, Richard introduces the ideas of pets to him. Damian loves animals, and having and taking care of a creature that could potentially survive on its own, but will have a much better quality of life under his care, speaks to him. He has Alfred and Titus and about half a dozen other stray animals that usually stay for about a week while he nurses them to health at any given moment, but he feels like he should officially have another pet.

Que the whole thing with his grandfather, and Timothy getting kicked out of the top of a skyscraper. He comes home with proof, and the Justice League brings his father home. And as Dick basically refuses to let anyone leave the mansion for the foreseeable future, Damian realizes several facts:

1.) Timothy is a human, and humans are animals.

2.) While Timothy has somehow survived until now, he wouldn't recognize self-care if it slapped him in the face.

3.) Timothy's quality of life will improve if someone is taking care of him because he cannot be trusted to do it for himself. (Is it a coincidence that he loses organs when he is away from the family? Damian thinks not.)

4.) Damian has gotten good at taking care of animals.

Ergo, Timothy is now Damian's pet. Tim doesn't know what to do and simply humors him. Besides, it's nice when someone actually bothers to give him a plate of foods that he likes when he gets hyper focused on work and forgets to eat. That, and while he is exasperated every time Damian tranqs him, those are still the best sleeps of his life.

Jason finds it hilarious. Damian doesn't understand Richard or his father's reactions.

"Damian, Tim can take care of himself."

"Barely. Father, now that I am in charge of his sleep schedule, there aren't as many dark circles under his eyes. Even Alfred has commented that Timothy consumes less caffeine."

"Damian, he can't be your pet."

"Why not?"

"Tim's your brother; he's family."

"So are you saying that Alfred and Titus aren't family?"

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #5

Okay, so maybe Danny screwed up a little big. He was just trying to train some of his powers in secret. Really. And sure, just because he wanted to test the limits of what he could do, he tested and trained with a powered he swore he wasn't going to ever use on anyone.

But that kind of turned out to be one of his worst mistakes.

He was pretty sure Jazz was probably posting missing person posters. Maybe hid parents were also wrecking havoc over Amity, leaving literally no stone unturned to find him. And he didn't even want to imagine what his ghost gallery of rogues were up to with him missing.

Now he really regretted that he started training in secret without telling anyone.

Because now... here he was stuck in a doll sitting on some weird guys shelf that apparently used him as therapy doll and was talking to him. Or maybe the other was talking more to himself than Danny stuck in the doll.

Either way Danny was stuck and currently had no idea what to do, and his attempts in making the move doll didn't work as much as he hoped for. It took him an entire night to move his doll body from the shelves to the windowsill.

Tim swore the doll he had picked up on a whim as a mission souvenir was hunted. He swore he had placed the doll on his shelf several times now, but each morning he found it somewhere else.

He had contemplated installing cameras but fos some reasons his electronics stopped working at night. He had told Dick about it.

And what does he older brother do?

Ask him how much he slept the past week.

He sleeps enough, thank you very much. His sleep schedule was a mess but he sleeps and he functions.

The amount of energy drinks and coffee he consumes has noting to do with that.

Still Tim sat on the couch the doll placed on the table before him as he stared it down like it was a criminal he was going to interrogate.

"I know you can move..." he muttered behind his folded hands as his eyes narrowed. "I will figure out what your deal is..."

Behind him Dick looked worried at his younger sibling, wondering if he should get the tranquilizer gun. "Guys... I think he has one of these phases again..."

Jason next to him scoffed with his arms crossed, already planning on tipping Alfred off to restrict Tim's coffee and energy intake.

Damian only clicked his tongue, watching the older teen. "So Drake finally lost it."

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

girl, i wanna see you undo it

i wanna see you but you’re not mine.

how the other batboys react to a breakup

18+, mdni !!!!!!

readers can expect: a fem reader, lotttta angst, cursing, mentions of violence, sexually explicit scenes including mentions of penetration, oral, and masturbation. also tim drake being a creep via e-stalking but reader is aware of it and more or less okay with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your ex boyfriend, bruce wayne, was avoiding alfred.

his butler was insisting on signing him up for therapy, and bruce was dodging him, hard. he didn’t have it in him. he wouldn’t go pay a professional to hear how pathetic he was over the lack of you in his life. couldn’t. he’s found a much more effective way to get out his emotions.

one that involves his fists and a goon’s face.

it was probably cruel, these poor goons were just trying to feed their families, or something, but batman was indifferent.

he was now always nearing dangerously close to breaking his no-kill rule. almost always teetering over that edge. even with his own life. he’d head out in the batsuit, prowling the seediest streets of gotham, hoping, practically praying, for someone to do something illegal. he would put himself in the most deadly situations just to feel alive. wasn’t the healthiest solution, but.

did he care? no.

bruce was numb, unfeeling to those around him. he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror, not at the stupid fuck who’d lost the love of his life. he’d lagged behind in his case solving, gordon was growing increasingly more concerned. he was rude to the paparazzi asking after you, almost able to hear your voice in his ear, telling him to be nicer to them, whacking him on the bicep. he’d throw his usual charity galas, sure, but would send dick or jason in his place to showboat. he didn’t have the patience to talk to reporters. didn’t want to show face if you weren’t there on his arm. you always made the social aspect much more bearable. would always help him relieve the stress of it all after the event had ended.

but did he still care about you? yes.

just like when you were dating, bruce taking care of you was second nature.

he wouldn’t dare cancel the flower deliveries he’d set up when the two of you were together. they appeared at your apartment door every week and a half, always something different, but always in your favorite colors. you couldn’t stay mad at them either, the flowers brightened up your kitchen so nicely. when you and bruce were dating, he’d merged your calendars, just so scheduling was easier. you’d since deleted the connection, but he somehow still knows when you have appointments, as you’ll come out of your building’s lobby to a sleek black wayne enterprises car. the chauffeur opening the car door for you silently. you’d take it over the subway every time, even if it was a little awkward.

the dating app you’d downloaded after the breakup kept glitching, never letting you text any of your matches back. if you cared more, you’d contact support, but it was so odd. everything else on your phone works perfectly fine! but you had a gut feeling it had something to do with your ex boyfriend.

bruce might’ve slipped oracle a few bills for her silence over that favor.

he tried not to think about the fact you were already willing to start dating again. he couldn’t fathom being with anyone else. could not possibly wrap his head around it. why would he want anyone when he could have you? when he had already had you? everyone else seemed..lackluster.

it’s the same reason he’d been celibate since the breakup. after you, he was tainted. he didn’t think he’d ever be able to have sex again without thinking of you. especially in his own house. the two of you had fucked on every surface possible, seriously. tried every position.

it’d been difficult just sleeping in his own bed when he used to share it with you. used to make your legs shake as you gripped at the sheets. would never make you beg for anything, eating you out until you couldn’t take it anymore. that’s when bruce would press you up against him, holding you up with his huge arms as he pounded into you, his balls slapping against your clit as you whined, barely able to form words.

he’d never been with anyone the way he had with you. so obviously he wasn’t even able to finish with his own hand. it was nothing, nothing compared to the way you felt. his imagination would never have him moaning the way you could. could never make him melt the way you oh so easily were able to, with just a look.

so he was numb. and bruce just figured that’s how he’d stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your ex boyfriend, jason todd, throws his book across the room, flinching when it thuds against the wall opposite.

annoyed at the surprise romantic subplot, he huffs out a breath from behind his hands. he has to get over his sudden aversion to romance, but it feels impossible after losing you. he can’t watch any of his favorite movies, can only read a select few of his favorite books.

he barely even goes out anymore, mostly to avoid seeing couples on dates. the two of you loved going out together, loved going out to community events like concerts in the park, fairs in the summer. he missed accompanying you to your nephew’s t-ball games, watching you cheer and beam up at him in one of his old baseball hats.

so he barely goes out. he doesn’t have you with him!

he saw an elderly couple strolling in the park the other day. jason had promptly turned in the opposite direction, to avoid crumpling into a ball and sobbing or throwing up into the nearest trash can.

he’d gotten back onto his bike and rode home, going way over the speed limit. he didn’t care about being safe on it anymore, not when you weren’t there to ask him to or be his backpack. he missed the way you’d hold on to him, your thighs bracketing his torso as the bike roared. how at stoplights you’d rub your palms over his chest, grabbing his pecs with your gloved hands. your resulting giggle was muffled through your motorcycle helmet, but it was still the sweetest sound in the world to him.

but jason stopped bothering trying to function out in public after that, only ever really leaving his place for missions and to train at wayne manor.

and boy, had he been training. ever since the two of you had broken up, he’d been working out to the point of exhaustion.

barely peeling himself off of the floor after each workout, always heading straight to the shower to rinse the sweat off while he zoned out into the steam. after his workouts was the only time he would relieve himself. he’d hunch over with one hand propping him up opposite the tiled wall, the other fisted around his cock as he thought of your pretty smile, your gorgeous eyes, the meat of your thighs, the curve of your ass. how you’d clench around his cock with yet another orgasm, moaning his name into the mattress.

he’d finish, hard, his body shuddering, leaving him to be ashamed with himself.

he wasn’t allowed to do this, he wasn’t allowed to think of you like you were still his. all this and yet the pain in his muscles still didn’t ease the pain in his heart, the pain seeping into his bones whenever he thought about you.

jason was still hesitant to be around his siblings.

you had left your perfume in his bathroom, and while he knows it sounds crazy, he's been spraying it on his clothes. he misses the way they would smell like you after you’d borrow them. he still hadn’t touched one of his flannels, the one you loved to steal and loved to see him in. he didn’t see the point in wearing it if you weren’t there to see it.

the last time he’d seen damian, his little brother had loudly asked him why he “smelled girly.”

jason had turned bright red and mumbled something probably unintelligible before briskly walking away, bumping into the doorframe on his way out.

he’s been spraying your perfume on the pillow you’d always use too, snuggling it close to his chest like he used to with you while he fell asleep.

it’s definitely not the same, but it’s the closest jason has to the real thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tim drake, your ex boyfriend, swiveled in his desk chair, spinning back and forth. the monitors covering the wall above his desk were alive with various video feeds and social media websites.

@user892548276 was viewing your instagram story, a gorgeous selfie of you that tim had already screenshotted. he had plans for that later. @gothamite69 was liking your latest tweet, while @ilovedoggiess couldn’t get enough of your latest tiktok.

he knew he had to switch up the users so you’d think it was bots. you’d figure it out otherwise. too bad he had a thing for smart people.

he nodded, satisfied at the cctv feed of the street your apartment building was on, before throwing a hoodie on over his bare chest. tim strolled into the kitchen, his sweats slung low on his hips. he ran a hand through his hair, using the other to grab the coffee pot to refill his mug.

“hey, tim. whatcha up to?” jason leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

tim jumped, turning around.

“just some surveillance, nothing much.” he replied, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

“ohh, that case for bats?”

“mmhm.” tim cracked his knuckles, something of a nervous habit he’d developed after the breakup. and his serious lack of sleep.

“well, i won’t keep you. tell y/n i said hi!”

tim flinched at the mention of you as jason left in the direction of the garage. it’s not his brother’s fault. jay had been really busy with the outlaws lately, never home long enough to realize tim hadn’t brought you over in weeks. tim scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. maybe it was the exhaustion muddling things, but tim can’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep. it was already difficult falling asleep. it only made it worse that every time he did fall asleep he dreamed about you.

but dick had noticed. he had slowly transitioned tim’s assignments to mainly desk work. his older brother was probably worried about him being too tired on the field and getting hurt. but he hadn’t told bruce. tim preferred it that way. he didn’t need a big fuss about if he was okay or his performance level as a hero.

tim grabbed his mug, making his way back to his bedroom. he caught a glimpse of a dark figure in the window, spooking himself. he was on edge so much worse than usual. his reflection stared back at him, his face skinny and his eyebags dark against the pale skin of his cheeks.

tim shook his head, heading into his bedroom. he swayed a little, locking the door behind him. he set his mug on his desk, sitting down in his chair just in time to see you heading down the street.

he stood up so fast his chair rocketed back, hitting the wall. you usually don’t go out on thursday nights. is everything okay??

he types frantically, finding different angles to effectively follow you down the street, physically recoiling to see you stop at a restaurant. just another date.

you stopped, looking around, waving when you spot a blond guy walking towards you. tim enhances the best he can, zooming in on this asshole who thinks he’s good enough for you. tim scoffs out loud at the wrinkled shirt your date has on, looking ridiculous in comparison to your beauty.

the sundress you’re in is one of his favorites, red and white and flowery. he gulps down a sip of coffee at his screen when you turn around, the fabric hugging your body. he blinks, snapping out of it as your date ushers you into the restaurant. tim cracks his knuckles. he reaches for his phone, pulling up your contact. he itches to call you, to pull you out of the date you’re on, to make you think about him instead of that tool you’re with.

but he can’t. he shouldn’t.

he pulls up the screenshot of your story instead, staring at the selfie of you in his favorite sundress. his cock twitches against the fabric of his sweats. he can’t even count how many times he’s had you rutting against him with that dress hiked up to your waist.

he tosses his phone onto his bed, sitting back in his desk chair as he palms his cock, his brain full of thoughts of you.

you pressed up against him in a slinky dress as you slow dance at a wayne gala. waking up in your bed how the two of you fell asleep, naked, limbs intertwined. dancing in a gotham nightclub together, your hair in your face as you throw your arms up and swivel your hips in his direction in your shortest dress. the texts and pictures you’d been sending back and forth after the breakup, unable to let each other go.

tim throws his head back as he finishes, your name on his lips. his body rigid, the warm liquid all over his hands. he cleans himself off, staring into nothing until his computer dings at the motion detected on your street. you’re strutting down the sidewalk, the street empty. before you head inside your building, you stare into the cctv camera across the street. you wave, smiling coyly. tim sits up straighter, holding his breath. you hold up your thumb, and tim groans. that guy??

but you flip your thumb down at the camera, shaking your head. bad date.

tim whoops, beaming.

he shuts down his computer before flopping onto his bed, burrowing under the covers. five minutes later, he’s fast asleep as his coffee grows cold where it sits on his desk.

[rokketeer]

timmy’s picking up some bandaids, antiseptics, and lollipops for all the people in the last post’s tags worrying about his health

i have never seen a character more suited for collared shirts under hoodies than timothy jackson drake

[why-be-normal]

I hate fanon!Tim Drake who never sleeps/eats and drowns himself in coffee cause a) that is not at all his comic canon personality and b) it is not feasible for someone who fights/does that much exercise!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Give me unhinged Tim who schedules when he naps, drinks wayyyy too many energy drinks (he makes his own cause the legal ones don’t come with enough caffeine), and meal preps so that he gets a perfect balance of nutrients. Can this man function? Not well!!! But he is extremely intelligent and physically fit!!!!!!!!

Extra: Bernard of course throws a fit when he looks at the bland nutrients that Tim passes as ‘dinner’ and immediately starts making him food

[feelingbat-ty]

This is inspired by @aflamboyanceofflamingos post about Tim choosing to publicly hate Robin as Tim Drake, cause to love or hate someone is the best way to hide a secret identity.

I started thinking about Tim coming into contact with his teammates as a civilian and Tim using this as an opportunity to take out all the grievances he has for his team in a way, that 1) Won't cause tension and fights. And 2) let him get away with being a petty arsehole, cause it's not like superheros can just go and beat up random civilians.

And well... my hand slipped.

--- You Can't Spell Spite Without Timothy Jackson Drake ---

The amount of times YJ comes across Tim Drake in the wild would be concerning if Tim didn't stalk them as often as his busy schedule allows (which turns out to be quite often). The Beta tube in the Batcave and another secret Beta tube in the bowls of Wayne enterprise's Francisco building allows Tim easy and direct access whenever he so desires.

And well, Tim never did grow out of his stalking phase.

It would be comical - if it wasn't maddening - how often they don't realise he's there. Most of the time he's stalking trailing a member of the team he's not trying to hide his presence, it wouldn't make sense for him to, not as Tim Drake.

The team have a tally board that sits in the common room, it's at 85.

85.

His team's situational awareness is absolutely appalling. 85, they've noticed him only 85 of the hundreds of times he's followed them around?

He complains to Dick about it, a lot. He's hoping Dick will give him some tips on how to beat situational awareness into his teammates thick skulls. He was the leader of the Titans, so he has to have something!

Dick - like the asshole he secretly is - just laughs at him.

He asks Cassie about it once. Why they don't find it concerning that they encounter Tim Drake: famous for being the civilian who 'beat Robin in a fight' every other week?

"I mean, You're usually right about these sorts of things, Rob. If you don't think Drakes an issue, then we trust you."

Tim can't figure out whether to feel warm and giddy at the fact that they apparently trust him, or to be annoyed at the fact that they follow after him like sheep. Not even doing their own research and recon (Cassie probably did. Kon and Bart? Yeah, hell would have a better chance at freezing over).

The first time was a coincidence. Tim had needed some space (from Bruce. From his deadlines. From his own mind...) and ended up wondering the streets of San Francisco with no real destination in mind.

An impulse turn led him onto the boardwalk and from there right to Superboy.

It was a bright and sunny day in Fran and Kon was glowing. Literally, because of the sun and figuratively from pride after he stopped a would-be pick pocket-er from pick pocketing an elderly lady.

He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't, not when the team know of Tim Drake, know his face and all about how he hates Robin and makes it his whole personality. Not when the only thing that stops them putting Tim Drake on Baby Super villain watch is Tims general blasé attitude about, well... himself.

But is it oh, so tempting.

Especially because the month before, Kon had accidentally smashed Tim's favourite coffee mug in a series of event's (involving a yoga ball, shearing scissors, laser vision and a will from God himself) so convoluted that Tim was convinced it had been orchestrated for a solid week.

Was it a cheap mug from Kmart? Yes, but it's the principle of the matter!

As Tim’s left shoe impacts the side of Superboys face, a sense of manic glee overtakes him. Tim takes special care to seer this memory of Superboy getting hit in the head with Tim's shoe and the stupid face he makes as the ratty converse collides with his cheek, into his brain.

It's not much, but it's justice all the same for his once beloved mug.

Tim... might just be a tad sleep-deprived.

Superboy startles and lets out a frantic “Shit!” Assuming he’s being attacked by a surprise enemy (the kind that isn’t just civilians throwing shoes) he looks around, taking stock of his surroundings and looking for any immediate threats before glancing down at the shoe and visibly doing a double take.

His face is blank as he stares - undoubtably confused - at the shoe. A second later he's lifting his gaze, following the direction the show came from and staring right at Tim.

Tim, who (like an idiot) is still, for some reason, positioned how he was when he threw the shoe - arm outstretched and leg back to brace himself.

There is absolutely no way he wasn't the one who threw the shoe. If the stance didn't give it away, then him having one shoe (that shoe being a near identical ratty rad converse) probably did.

“What?” Superboy asks. He looks befuddled. A little amused, but mostly just confused. He's got a small, polite smile on his face that just reeks of Clark Kent's influence. Kon is obviously trying to model himself off of Superman - specifically Superman's polite and approachable "Grandma pinching worthy" vibe and not his fashion choices, since he's still got the leather jacket and sunglasses.

Tim makes a mental note to tell Kon that he has a really expressive face. Tim is literally reading all his emotions in 4K. They should probably work on that, it could be a liability in the field.

Tim briefly considers playing dumb and acting like it wasn’t him that threw the shoe, before dismissing that idea, Kon can be clueless at times, but he’s not a complete idiot.

So instead, he says, “that was a very open-ended question.”

And well, it was.

At the look Superboy gives him, he elaborates, “What, when said in that context, could mean literally anything! Like, ‘what was the purpose of that?’ ‘What’s your name, so I can in-prison you’ ‘What shoe size was that?’ Seriously, dude, be more specific!”

Superboy’s befuddlement takes a sudden nosedive to incredulity. “Okay, fine. Why did you throw a shoe at me?”

“Cause you work with Robin.” He says simply. He'd say 'justice' but then he'd sound like batman and like, thanks but no thanks.

“Cause I- what? You physically assaulted me with a shoe because I work on the same team as Robin?”

Tim, personally, thinks assault is a strong word to use for this situation, but he’s glad that at least some of his lessons on the proper terms and vocabulary are paying off.

He nods, cause that is indeed what he just did, he crosses his arms across his chest, and stares Superboy down.

Superboy who, looks like he’s regretting everything that led him to this moment. Tim relishes in that for just a little too long to be healthy. Probably.

Tim doesn’t really care. He told Kon (as Robin) that he’d regret breaking Tim’s favourite mug (accident or not, he's still not over it.) yeah, this might not be how either of them envisioned it, but Tim thinks this might just be better than beating Kon up as Robin in their next team training session. What better way to get someone back than to publicly humiliate them in front of all their peers? Shame he can't do that anymore.

Eh, who is he kidding? He’s still going to do that anyway.

“You’re only gonna throw one?” Superboy has a look on his face that’s similar to the one Bruce gets when he’s decided to give up and play along with the crazy. The one where he'll smile and nod, slowly inching out of the room, as Duke and Damian (There has truly never been a more terrifying duo) explain to him in vivid detail how they're going to use psychological warfare to make a shitty teacher at their school resign.

“Yes.” Why’d he throw both his shoes? He’d have no shoes!

“… Right. Why did you throw this one?”

All these questions!

“I like that one the least,” he shrugs, and it's true, the converse on his right foot has a little bi flag that Steph sewed into it back when they were dating. A throw pillow was the closest thing in reach at the time, so he sewed a little pan flag on it for her (he later did one on the breast pocket of one of her denim jackets).

“You are so freakin’ weird, dude! You throw a shoe at me! Because I work with Robin!”

Uh, yeah, we've already established that.

“How did you even get it off that fast!”

To be Honest, Tim is also surprised at how fast he was able to get his shoe off. One second he’s looking at Superboy the next he’s lobbing a shoe at his thick head.

Instead of saying any of that, Tim channels his inner Janet Drake, sticking his nose into the air and scoffing like Kon is the literal gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

Kon, - because he’s no longer Superboy, he’s too fired up to hold onto the mask - shakes his head. It’s mocking, when he says, “You must be really shitty at throwing a punch if you had to resort to throwing shoes.”

Tim shrugs, “Well, I woulda thrown a fist, but you’re not worth a fist.”

Kon is silent and doing an amazing impression of a blobfish.

Tim turns and struts away before Kon has the chance to come up with a rebuttal, or just decides to punch him in the face.

He’ll grab his shoe later, after Kon leaves.

The basted incinerated his shoe.