redwinging
"I'm not like Batman, I have friends."
"there's always more work to do..." // independent interpetation of Tim Drake/Red Robin
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“Actually, he was telling me to go to bed just before you came by.” Yikes. When Bruce decides to face his hypocrisy and tell someone to get some rest, you know it’s bad. “This is important. It could be more dangerous than it seems.”
He doesn’t acknowledge Bart moving closer to him beyond adjusting his posture. The outside world was almost completely absent to him- the only thing he could really focus on was his computer screen. He probably could rest for a little bit, but he could never bring himself to walk away.
“You’re feeling clingy today. Did something happen?”
“Is the big bat controllin’ you or something? You’re way too into your work! You need a break! A break from all this borin’ stuff, c’mon.” He urged the other male, with a smile on his lips.
With Tim’s answer giving him permission to bother the gothamite, Bart grinned and hastily took a seat. But…a little different than what Tim would have in mind. Bart settled himself in Tim’s lap, partially blocking the view of his laptop to have his face a few inches away from Tim’s own, bright golden eyes sparkling with affection.
“Okay,” Bart laid his head on Tim’s shoulder, snuggling close to the boy. “You can continue.”
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@crashedthemode
when ur friend cant be simply categorized
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The tapping of computer keys was only paused when Tim realized his wrist was getting sore and had to lightly massage it for a few seconds before quickly returning back to work.
Crime never stops, not even when the heroes are sleeping. That kind of thought spurs him into his ‘work moods’ where he goes at a case for hours without pause.
The clicking noise stopped for a moment when he heard Bart, and then quickly started over again.
“It’s complicated.” Is all he could say. “He’s got multiple witness reports- but they all contradict each other. Which means I need to individually background check every one of them.”
Which is made a lot more difficult when he needs to access records that he’s legally not allowed to see.
He looked at Bart for a second, letting out a deep sigh.
“You can sit with me if you want.”
@redwinging
“Tiiiiiiimmmmmmmm……….”
Bart’s whining voice suddenly rang through the room to disturb a working Tim from his duties, the brunet walking over sluggishly until he was behind Tim, lulling his head over the taller boy’s shoulder.
“You said you’d be done that stuff hours ago!!” He exclaimed, clearly unhappy. “I’m bored! An’ I’m lonely!!!” He finally pulled out his signature move, the one thing that usually got Tim to budge on whatever silly shenanigan or stupid idea he had in mind: the biggest puppy-dog look one could muster.
And boy, was it hard to fight. Massive golden eyes and a killer pout glaring at Tim would probably have him give in finally and let Bart drape himself over the bird and cuddle until he fell asleep. That was the hope, anyway.
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im indie now
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I want the record to show that I am incapable of drawing normal art and it will always be memes.
They took a wrong turn on their way to a gala. Probably.
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chamoize:
She’d seen nothing out of the ordinary— at least, from what’s expected of this sect of the island. She imagines that if this is an area he patrols often, he has some idea of what to expect. “The most suspicious thing here right now is probably you.” Less apprehensive now, she flashes a smirk behind the jab. Her curiosity in the man is piqued a little more than before, admittedly. Likeminded individuals were often good company, she found.
“That said, I can’t say with certainty I’ve seen absolutely nothing. My memory’s hazy…” The words trail with accentuation from a feigned expression, like she’s thinking hard about it. “There’s no point in a standoff here if we’re both just patrolling, right? I wouldn’t mind some company, it was starting to get too quiet.”
That made sense. It’s not like his sense of justice was well within the realm of the law. If you asked him, justice didn’t have to be.
“Yeah, I try not to look like a fluffy kitten when I’m out. Striking fear into the hearts of criminals and all that.”
“No need to answer right away. It’s not like people are trying to get caught around here.” His guard is still up- like it always is- but he lets himself leisurely walk closer to her. “Sure. I don’t think anything interesting is going to happen, anyways.”
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chamoize:
“Patrolling?” A vague curiousity flashes across her features at the word. “Like a guard or an officer? Does the Crimson Lane keep you around for that?” The question’s less presumptious and plainly direct. If he’s just someone doing his job, there really isn’t much need to get caught up by the why of it all. Except, there was the fact that he followed her specifically.
She shrugs it off nonetheless. For now. “I guess you could say I’m patrolling too. But not for the same reason that you might be. Taking walks like this helps me clear my head, and I’ve found that the lane is oddly quiet at these hours.” Which make it perfect for strolls like this. And it goes without saying that someone like her needn’t worry about the danger. “But doesn’t patrolling in the way that you are make me a person of interest?”
“Something like that. But no, I’m not on anyones payroll. I do this because I want to.”
Justice for the sake of justice was what he lived by. He couldn’t let himself be swayed by rival criminal organizations or other such things- Tim has never been one to discriminate against who he does or doesn’t decide to fight.
“Also, no. It’s pretty quiet tonight, isn’t it? I guess you’d know better than I do. I try not to spend much time out in the open here. But I can’t start interrogating you just because you’re on a walk.”
“.... But, if you’ve seen anything suspicious and wanted to tell me about it, I wouldn’t be opposed.”
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He’s not sure what to say to that.
So, for a while, he doesn’t say anything. Damian’s backstory may have been difficult, but that doesn’t mean Tim’s story is any easier to swallow. He’s not giving up Robin- especially to someone as emotionally volatile as this- and he’s sure that Batman would agree with him.
“I’ve worked hard to be where I am. I’ve seen Gotham at it’s worst. I’ve protected it. What have you done? We don’t kill, you know.”
There’s no sense of pity in his voice. No, all of his words are filled with venom. Who does this kid think he is- to attack him and then declare that he doesn’t deserve a single thing he’s worked for?
Tim was there after the death of Robin II. He saw Batman at his worst- and he was the one who had to carry the title of Robin. On his own terms. He had to convince Batman, of all people, to rely on others. And he’s being told he never worked for anything?
“Things don’t usually go the way you want them to. Get used to it, or you’ll go under. That’s my advice to you- as Robin.”
Damian didn’t care or consider any sacrifices, experiences, or promises Tim had gone through to get where he is. The Al Ghul heir could easily shake his head and instantly disregard any work it took for Tim to become Robin. Because he was made for this. Bred for this, by Talia. And as if it was the instructions bred in his mind, the boy did not back down, face to face (….uh…face to…..chest? idk he small) with the other, unwavering.
But he still flinched when the staff met the surface of the floor, eyes pinched tight and lips forming a thin line. He clenched his one fist, the other still around his abdomen.
“It isn’t fair! It isn’t right that you get it like this!” He suddenly retaliated, stamping a foot in protest. “I was made for it! It’s my goddamn purpose! To be his son…his partner.”
“I’m not letting it be! And I won’t let you hold it from me forever!”
Powerful emotions took over the small boy and he had to bite his lip in order to prevent tears, to prevent further looking like a insolent child. But that was all he ever was to people, huh? Always close, but never enough. He was tired of it.
He fell silent, and sniffed lightly, looking down.
“…I deserve him..” he briefly looked up. “You didn’t have to work for that, did you? But I’ve spent my entire life for that purpose! You didn’t have to earn his respect or love or attention or anything! It can’t be that easy….I haven’t….” he muttered something unintelligible before shutting his mouth, feeling….spontaneously useless.
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The sound of Damian’s voice is starting to give him a serious headache. He leans his head back and pinches the space in between his eyebrows, trying to stop himself from telling this ten year old to just shut up already.
Tim fought hard for his place as Robin. He juggled with his parents, friends, and teachers just to be able to have that mask on for one week- and he’s still carrying on that fight. For this kid, who has never had to worry about the politics of being Robin, to saunter over and declare that he is Robin by blood...
... It makes Tim infuriated.
He stops pacing, and slams the end of his staff against the ground- the same staff that had knocked Damian over.
“Look, kid. I don’t know who you are or where you crawled out of, but I’ve fought tooth and nail to get where I am right now. Robin has nothing to do with blood. If you want to take my position so bad, then you can take it up with Batman. But until then-”
He taps the ‘R’ symbol.
“- I’m not giving this up.”
While Tim went through his teenage-life crisis, Damian struggled to get himself up and standing, trying to ignore the pain and get back into a position more fitting for someone as….esteemed as himself. Crawling like a bug on the floor, it made no sense for the grandson of the demon.
He leans on the wall, slowly but surely maneuvering himself onto his feet, left arm still clutching where he had been hurt, but at least now he could stand. Brushing off his clothes with his freehand, the boy finally looked toward Tim, eyeing him side to side as he paced across the width of the room.
“I’m ten!” He supplied suddenly, frowning deeply towards the other boy. How dare he speak of his in this way? He could at least be using correct facts.
Green eyes drift away from the other male as Damian quickly surveys the area, thinking this unfortunate interaction was just about done, finding no real motive to continue, but the more Tim speaks, the more Damian feels entilted to answer.
“Listen carefully, you dolt.” Damian steps forward, holding his chin up and slightly puffing out his chest to appear more in charge. “I am Damian! My mother is Talia Al Ghul and my father is Bruce Wayne, the Batman!” He comes forward again, right in front of Tim, blocking him from moving forward. Staring into his eyes and he purposefully continues, “Father has not known about me yet, Mother’s doing, if it was up to me….” He took a quick sigh, refocusing. “…regardless, I am the blood son! Only I deserve to be Robin!”
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thirteenthstyx:
She didn’t really meant to ask for help, but she supposed her appeareance wasn’t enough to make him get away, and her voice tone could only make it seem she was more insulted about the fact he found her suspicious than making it clear she wanted to be alone. However, the proposal to help her find that person was one she couldn’t simply let go unanswered.
“…Yes. White spiky hair, red coat with golden buckles and black belts, heterochromia, one red eye and one green. May have a sword on his belt.” She adds. “Name is Ragna.”
“Interesting character. If I saw someone like that, I wouldn’t forget.”
Looking at Nu again... She’s an interesting character herself. Maybe eccentric ‘fashion choices’ are commonplace where they’re from? He supposes he’s not one to talk, but it’s not like these are his civvies.
“Are you new around here? I’m just warning you- there’s a chance that your friend might not be here at all.”
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For the first time that night, Damian manages to draw out genuine emotion from Robin. His eyebrows raise and his eyes go wide- for a second, his mouth even hangs open. It doesn’t last long, but the second the shock leaves him it’s replaced by incredible amounts of stress.
As if Damian wasn’t even there, he starts pacing back and forth- hand running through his hair.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
“Batman has a kid? For how long? How old is this guy- like, 12? He’s had a child for 12 years and never brought it up? No... He wouldn’t do that. There’s no way he would just ignore his own son.”
The word ‘son’ falling out of his mouth makes him realize exactly what’s happening, and he visibly cringes.
“... He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that you were born, does he? How long has this been a secret for? What are you going to do?”
“.... Who’s your mom?”
Damian would try and uncurl, hoping to get up quick enough to where he could strike again, but the moment he dare lean forward, an awful pulse of pain yanked him back into his previous position, the little assassin wincing under his breath to try and refrain from showing weakness. A huge frown develops on his face, and he glares at Tim relentlessly. Only stopping to blink every few seconds.
Damian rolls his eyes and turns away from the teen, busying himself with simultaneously kicking his legs out and holding his stomach tight as if it would get rid of the pain he felt inside.
He doesn’t answer Tim for a moment, simply pouting to himself and envisioning him hitting Tim with a sword in his mind like any kid would – dreaming of being triumphant here when actually, he was the one on the ground hurt. Tim barely got a scratch– maybe a sore rib or two. It wasn’t fair.
“You don’t deserve it. It’s not fair.” The boy says through a toothy frown. But at the mention of Bruce, Damian rushes to sit up, bearing the pain for a moment to address it.
“He’s my Father.” There is a pause in between his words, as well as a sheen of something in the kid’s emerald eyes. “Which is why I should be Robin, not you!”
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smallblueboyscout:
Black Mask. Jon tried to think. Wasn’t that one of the guys Jason had dealt with? Some big time Gotham baddie? The most he’d dealt with before was like, small robberies and such. But he guessed the training wheels would have to come off at some point…? This shouldn’t be too different from his usual stuff though. Just because this was someone like Black Mask didn’t suddenly mean he would be able to take down a Kryptonian.
‘Are you gonna be ok if they start shooting at you?’ He would be fast enough to protect Red Robin too, but if he wouldn’t have to worry too much about him, Superboy felt like he’d be able to focus on the people around them better.
‘Yeah, burgers sound good! Can I get your autograph after this too?’
He honestly felt a bit nervous about having Superboy tag along with him. It wasn’t like he didn’t have faith in the kid- but Tim had gone off on his own for a long time. Spontaneously working with another person might be... A challenge.
No, no. There’s no time to think about that now. ‘Bats work alone’ is just a myth, anyways.
‘If they have enough time to aim and pull the trigger, I’ll be fine. This uniform isn’t just for show.’
Huh? Jon was an autograph? Tim wants to ask why, considering that Jon is friends with is brother and also they’re working on stopping a crime right now- but he decides against it. He just gives Jon a silent thumbs up.
‘Let’s roll.’
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smallblueboyscout:
Jon nodded and started signing again.
‘Yeah, they’re all pretty much armed. Who are they? Any idea what kind of meet up this is? If someone tries to shoot someone else, do you want me to go down and grab the bullets?’ Catching bullets didn’t tickle, but it didn’t hurt him, so he had no problem doing it.
He tried to position himself on the edge of the roof in case he needed to launch himself down if a fight broke out.
‘Looks like an arms dealing. Both ironic and inconvenient. And yeah, anything you can do to stop the bullets is good- that’s for their own safety, though. Not ours.’ Haha very funny. ‘... It seems like it’s going smoothly, but weapons being transferred to Black Mask is never a good sign. We should take them out.’
Damn, what an inconvenience.
‘Wanna get a batburger after this?’
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leftaremybcnes:
It was rather awkward at best.
Bones didn’t know what to say to the kid, and if it is the case the stranger was from where he was, he had no idea who they were from the get-go. Most folks who knew of the Vulcans are usually part of Starfleet. The kid didn’t even have the basic uniform on top of it.
Damn it, he hated space too much.
“Alright, if y’need anythin’, just ask.” besides, generosity goes a long way, it was just better to listen to what the child would say. He wasn’t a scientist like Spock was or a genius in time and space anomaly much like their youngest Chekov, but he knows his way around what space could do.
“Tell me ‘bout it.” and he understands where they were coming from, too many times has he been a subject of abuse from being out there in the unknown. The amount of times he had to save his crew from getting killed, watched his friend die and to be resurrected thanks to a mad superhuman. “Been through a lot in space, so I know wha’ y’er talkin’ ‘bout kid, heck, even seen myself as a mad doctor in one universe, ‘n I ain’t gonna seein’ tha’ again.” once again, space his darkness fill with disease and death.
So, no wonder they knew about him. “Fictional, hu?” Well, that was something new all on it’s own. He was just a tv show in some reality? “Tha’s somethin’ y’don’t ‘ere every day. Sadly, no. I’ve never seen anyone like ya back where I came from.”
Robin seems to be in anticipation.
Ah, just as he could expect-- this person took the news quite well. He anticipated as much from a character from his most beloved sci-fi series.
“Strange.” He says with a wry smile. “In my experience, the existence of caped crusaders is the only constant between universes. But I guess your world already has it’s own heroes.”
He won’t go on a rant about the heroes in question. This entire interaction is probably already weird enough.
All that mattered was that the two of them belonged to their own worlds, where they are completely and undeniably real.
“Anyways, I’ve got a lot of questions. But first, I think it’s better that we both work together. We were both taken here at random, weren’t we? In other words, we’re in the same spot. Our shared knowledge of the universe might come in handy.”
Please say yes please say yes please say yes.
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notbatboy:
Damian was too encapsulated with years of expectations, rough training, and a relentless childhood to even express it in words, still pounding his heart out on poor Tim who had the littlest idea what this was about. Damian didn’t think about the consequences or how insane he would seem if any bystander dare looked their way. Right now, he was just a kid expressing all his grief unto someone who was unfortunate enough to be around. To add onto that, Tim was Robin, which made this even more personal despite the two not having met until this moment. Or so he thought…?
He did expect retaliation, but not the kind which was received, which made him wince when something impacted his stomach, losing his grip on Tim’s costume and ending up colliding with the ground. His back hit the concrete hard, and the child curled in on himself, and despite the pain radiating inside him, Damian was still glaring at Tim, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he tried to hide the pain he felt.
“You don’t deserve to wear that symbol.” He said slowly, cruelly.
So he’s done now. Thank God.
Strange, when he’s like this... Tim can’t help but see Damian as some helpless little kid, rather than an assassin with a kill count of god knows how many. In the end, that’s all this was... Wasn’t it? His life was never really in any danger.
He was just the object of some kid’s temper tantrum.
But, why?
“I’ll ask again. Do I know you from somewhere?”
Definitely not. If he had, he would have remembered. Furthermore, it was near universally accepted that ‘the person currently in the Robin uniform = Robin’- there’s no need to deny that. And it doesn’t seem like the kid has a problem with the Robin symbol... No, it’s more like...
... He idolizes the position. He wants it. In other words...
“No, I don’t. But you know Batman, don’t you?”
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Okay, so we’re doing this now.
Tim has to hold back a heavy sigh. He imagines that showing any contempt would just make this weirdly vengeful little brat that much more angry. So this is what happens when you take someone from the League of Assassin’s off of their proverbial leash. They go absolutely wild.
He steps back in response to the punches. This suit was clearly a funhouse mirror version of the real Robin uniform, so the strikes hurt a bit more than he feels comfortable admitting.
“You really need to calm down.”
Ah, he was given a staff here too. As if on instinct, Robin jabs the demon brat in the stomach- trying to knock him down. Maybe contact with the nice and cold ground will put some sense into his mind.
Without any sort of (real) warning, Damian launched himself at Tim, full speed and full anger running through his body. An aggressive scream accompanied the action as Damian forced all his weight unto the older boy, trying to topple him to the ground.
Disregarding any logic that came about where they were, how Damian was even brought here, and anything else concerning the scenario, Damian insisted on fighting. Besides, there wasn’t any physical object or figurative one keeping him from holding back. With no sort of adult instructing him, the child let out his full rage for the situation at hand and all the anger he built up over the years. If this was the real Robin, he’d make sure the bird-named teen would never don the suit again.
He started with punches straight to Tim’s abdomen, one after another, as comparably tiny fits fit Tim’s frame hard. Damian had enough spark to go at this for as long the teen allowed him too, but he expected the so-called Robin to fight back.
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leftaremybcnes:
He did not expect a stranger to approach him inside the bar or someone as young as the younging, after all, he was busy drinking his bourbon to even think about anyone.
Which only worried him of their safety. Just who was this young man and what business he had with the doctor? Were they sick? Someone injured? Or was he just picked randomly to ask questions for?
Bones turns his attention towards the child, giving them a raised brow and trying to look less grumpy than his usual self.
“Hi?” He replied back, not sure how to approach the bombardment of questions directed towards his way, “Whooa– Calm down with th’questions, kid. ‘m ‘ere all day, so how ‘bout y’take a seat?” tapping against the chair next to him for the other to sit on. “Y’want somethin’ t’eat?” He knew the bar also served some food, although mostly burgers.
Yet, what surprised him was the stare and the sudden salute that followed. The very known Vulcan salute he has seen so many times by his first officer, how on earth did this child know?? All the time he was living in this city, no one has brought up of his own reality. How??
“Y’know the Vulcan salute?? Are– Are y’from my timeline, kid?” I mean, he would notice a child with a mask..
Oh my God he knows.
And now he has to explain all of it, even though he was the one who started asking questions. In hindsight, he probably should have kept that little gesture to himself, but the fanboy in him couldn’t resist.
This is the best day of his life.
“I’m good on the food, thanks.” He says, leisurely taking a seat next to him. Huh. Seems like the bartender wouldn’t mind. “I think I can explain a bit, but it might be difficult on the mind. And no, I’m not from your timeline.”
He scans the bar for a second, looking to see if anyone else might be listening in. He doesn’t want to answer a lot of questions- since he still has a lot of his own. Maybe the two of them can come to a conclusion together.
“There are a lot of different universes out there. They’re all different, but they exist together in the same multiverse. Because they exist in the same radius, it’s possible for two universes to converge if the separation between the universes is disrupted.”
And here’s the kicker.
“In my universe, Vulcans and other such things are completely fictional. A story. And I’m guessing people like me don’t exist in your world either.”
#leftaremybcnes#leftaremybcnes 01#isola event: proxy#the dc multiverse is complicated#idk if this makes sense
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