Robin Ii - Blog Posts

Unintentional Stalker Tim Drake AU

I love the interactions where Tim is his canonical weirdo fanboy self, but consider the idea that he never meant to stalk the bats.

Tim’s parents are gone, away on another dig, and Tim decides that instead of sitting in the quiet manor again, alone with only his TV to keep him company, he would grab his camera and take aesthetic photos of nighttime Gotham.

He’s quiet as he looks for a good spot to take his first photos, and when he finds a cool angle of a building against the setting sun he takes a photo.

He did not expect to see Batman and Robin mid jump between rooftops.

He quickly looked up from the photo, but any sign of the bats having been there are gone. Tim’s slightly disappointed, but decides to head home early, not wanting to risk being caught out alone.

The next night, he returns to the streets, camera slung around his neck and heading in the opposite direction of where he last saw the vigilantes. He sees a cool reflection of the moon being framed by a street lamp, and with the click of a button he takes the photo.

He again captured Batman and Robin, this time grappling in the distance, their silhouettes obvious against the light of the moon. When Tim looked up from the picture, they were gone.

Awe aside, he’s getting annoyed that the two masked crusaders keep photobombing his pictures. He walks down a few streets, climbs a tree, and takes a landscape photograph. Almost hesitant, Tim looks at the result.

Robin is chasing a low level gang member across the street.

This keeps happening: Tim goes out into Gotham’s night in an attempt to take photos of the city, and every time time Batman and Robin- sometimes just one of them sometimes both- unintentionally fall into the camera’s path as Tim snaps a photo.

In the background of his photos he’s captured Batman scolding Robin, the duo eating ice cream, Robin trying to walk on a power line, and even a couple of their fights with some of the rogues, along with many more photos.

On one particular night, as Tim gets his camera to focus against a satellite dish against the sky, he sees Robin do a quadruple somersault.

Tim is quickly able to figure out their identities like in canon, and when Jason comes in to take over the Robin mantle, Tim discovers his identity too with little to no problem.

Tim keeps up with his photo shoots, not nearly as annoyed of the photobombs as he used to be but refusing to give up until he has one clean shot of just the city and nothing else.

When Jason dies, and Tim sees Bruce dishing out broken bones and ICU visits to everyday thugs, he knows he’s got to do something. After all, they’ve been entwined longer than the bats know.

Warm Bodies

(Originally posted on AO3 by me/aka user CrashCityCentral)

The last thief was knocked out with a swift knee to his face and he fell limp. The distant sirens caught the vigilante’s attention and he let go of the KOd criminal's hair, dropping him to the ground then slumped into the shadows, hoisting himself up a fire escape and to the rooftop overlooking the dark alleyway where the fight took place. He peered over the edge to the carnage he left behind; a group of 8, 6 men and 2 women, unconsciously strewed across the alley floor, all petty thefts and wanna-be big shots. He left once he made sure none of them woke back up and the police were close enough. He never bothered staying around for these moments, the police were looking for him too. He didn’t always keep his opponents alive. But, like any other corny romance novel, he met someone and they changed him. For the better, which he honestly thought was impossible until that point. He didn’t look back again and instead traveled through the city by rooftop. It was just about time to hang up his helmet for the night.

He jumped from building to building, the close proximity of the cities structures making it perfect for travel. Once he was close enough to his current safe house, he dropped down to the streets and ducked into a darker part of the backend allies where he pulled a bag from a hidden spot. He opened it, stripping his chest plate off and stuffing it inside. He then reached around his head to press two switches on either side of his helmet and slowly pull it off revealing his face. Jason Todd.

Jason slung the bag over his shoulders, now casually dressed in a tank-top and his suit pants, walking back to the main roads and towards the direction of his safe house, acting as casual as ever. This had been his constant routine. Once at the door, he pulled his keys out and unlocked a padlock that kept a latch shut. When the latch was opened he entered a six-digit code the door clicked and was pushed open. From where his warehouse was there was a glimpse of moonlight shining through the windows and now open the door, with only his shadow blocking out the only source of light in the dark room. Jason closed the door again slowly and tried not to make a sound as he locked it once more and put his keys on a nearby table. The room was a deafening silence, almost making his ears ring. It wasn’t always this quiet. He moved to hang up his gear and walked further into the house. His movements were slow, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was tired or sore from fighting. It could be both. He let out an exhausted sigh before reaching the bedroom, moving the door handle slowly so the creaking wouldn’t disrupt the silence. There was a figure on the bed, laying there and waiting for him. It didn’t move when he came fully into the room and shut the door or took off his boots. It didn’t move until he walked over and was hovering over the bed and sat on the edge.

“Hey, Bart,” Jason said without even bothering to look at the boy laying down beside him.

“Welcome home, Jay,” Bart replied, with his usual animated grin. Though it was dark, Jason could practically see that smile. Something about the way he says it now makes it sound rehearsed. It was the same reply Jason got every time he came back, followed by the usual questions asked at rapid-fire. “How did it go? Did you kick ass? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” Jason said, his reply just as practiced. He didn’t bother answering the other two. He couldn’t. He just stared at the same place he zoned into when he sat down.

“You seem sad. What’s wrong?” Bart asked. Though he didn’t hear it, Jason could feel Bart move closer.

“You know what’s wrong.” The silence was too much. It was all wrong. All of it.

“What do you mean, Jay?” Bart’s voice still feigned the innocent confusion it always had.

Jason loved that about him. He loved how confused Bart got sometimes. When Bart gets too confused he gets frustrated and makes this cute pouty face and his leg bounces more violently the longer he thinks. It was just so him .

“Please don’t act like you don’t know.” Jason’s tone was nothing but pain. His voice was leveled but his mind was anything but. It’s been a long night.

“What’s wrong?” There he goes again. Those same routine lines. Those same replayed words. Those same concerned eyes.

Jason refused to look at those eyes. He knew if he did he’d cave and just accept this. But he couldn’t.

“You need to leave, Bart.” He swallowed hard, regretting the words but not taking them back either. This needed to happen. For both of them.

“I don’t understand.” the smile in Bart’s voice was gone. What was left was just concern. Jason cried.

The first few tears slipped out unannounced until they all just started pouring out. Tears and broken sobs. He wiped them away quickly, eyes screwed shut. There was a tingling sensation like someone had grazed their fingers lightly, over his cheek. His hand was so cold.

“Don’t cry, Jaybird.” Bart soothed. Jason reminded himself he couldn’t look. If he looked it became real.

“Please stop, Bart. Just go.” He rubbed his eyes. The ear-ringing silence came back. In the back of his mind, Jason knew he’d be back, just like he always is. But he was alone for now, his thoughts leaving him in peace until the next time. He opened his eyes.

Jason felt like crying again. He didn’t want to push him away, he didn’t want to tell Bart to leave. He wanted nothing more than to cave in and just collapse, letting Bart’s words soothe everything away and kiss him until he didn’t feel anything but loved. To listen to his rambles again and be praised with every villain he didn’t kill.

He wanted all of that back, he wanted his speedster.

Whatever his mind was doing to him was sick. Bart was dead. He has been for some time.

HOW ABOUT KILLING MYSELF, LORD

son.

anyway i wanted to draw a short comic about jason