yooo babe I just saw ur ask abt the batboys and their body types and id like to point out that somewhere in canon jason mentions that tim is actually the heavy hitter of the two while jason is faster (pretty sure I saw that somewhere)

syntactition:

redrobin-detective:

redrobin-detective:

Really???? I’d be curious where you found that given that Jay is so much bigger and Tim is tinier. He doesn’t give the impression that he’d be able to harder than Jay

Thank you everyone who replied! For some reason, tumblr isn’t letting me post replies anymore. But apparently it’s from New 52 Teen Titans #16, around the Death of the Family Tie In. I’m still calling Bullshit because they can write w/e they want but no WAY 6’ Jason who’s built like a tank is gonna hit weaker than 5’3 tiny Tim. Like sorry, Tim got punch but not like Jay do. Thank you to all who replied!!!!

For the sake of having it in one place:

image

Counterpoint to Titans from Robin #177, although I consider 52 to be a different continuity from Preboot so YMMV:

image
image

Although I don’t really like that description much, either,
because excuse the fuck out of you, Jason is smart. I’m 1000% on board with one
of the differences in styles being that Tim fights smarter, paying more attention to where and how he can hit to
maximize impact, vs Jason having a style that relies more on brute strength
because he has it and he didn’t have
to compensate for a small size like Tim did for anywhere near as long, but
ugggggh comics stop trying to convince me that Jason’s dumb. He was trained by Batman.

…anyway. tl;dr earlier canon supports Jason being the
heavy hitter.

Part of me wonders if the “I hit harder, he hits more often,” thing is meant to reflect a mentality/strategy of fighting than actual strength. Like maybe, as you said, Tim does fight “smarter” in that his way of fighting is very trained into him–by martial arts classes then Batman and Shiva–so it’s very much so “save all of my strength for one or two critical hits.” Not that he actually physically hits harder, but that as a ratio of their respective overall power, each of Tim’s punches are maybe a third or half of his energy while Jason’s are more like one twentieth of his.

Not that Jason’s pulling his punches, so much as Tim’s way of fighting is (as in the Preboot example) more about dodging and using the environment to his advantage. A lot of his career as Robin was surrounded by supers who all outclassed him when it came to sheer strength. Tim isn’t going to hit often, but when he does he needs to make each one count. And, also, assassin training so there’s that.

Contrast with Jason who learned fighting on the streets. Yes, he was trained by Batman as well, but that’s more honing the foundation which is a brawler style. In that you hit your opponent whenever you can, as a more in the present kind of fighting than planning out the fight as a whole. 

And also Jason on the streets/as Robin didn’t have the same build and brute strength as he does now. He was the scrappy kid who had to weave around Batman and full grown adult criminals. As Red Hood, no doubt, he’s modified his fighting to accommodate his full grown size and strength, but I wonder how much of that street style “wear them down” mentality is still in effect.

Basically, in video game form, if you could see the floating quantification of energy above either of them, one punch of Tim’s going to wipe out a good chunk of his energy but won’t do much more (possibly, might even be weaker) than one of Jason’s punches which he can do a dozen of no problem.

The Ghost of Wayne Manor, (2016-06-15)

Surprise, it’s Tim.

Only children can sense him fully (though sometimes Alfred thinks he can hear him, can see the gentle nudges of things moved slightly out of place; sometimes they play chess) but once they’ve become “adults” that’s it. No more.

Tim remembers when Bruce was young, how they would play together. Remembers how his parents had indulged his “imagination” (though Thomas finds it quite the coincidence that his son’s ‘imaginary friend’ is also named Tim). And then, after the incident, how Bruce was so sad and brooding. In mourning. Something Tim knew about but never really understood until Bruce explained it to him.

But grief ages a person, and not long after, Bruce stops being able to see him anymore. Tim is alone, again.

Until Dick. And, see, even though Dick’s parents died before he came to the Manor, he wasn’t as rapidly changed as Bruce was. And Tim loved him for it, this new friend who could see him and play with him–even through his teenaged years.

Except, lately, Dick and Bruce have been fighting a lot. And Dick spends more and more time away, and suddenly their last fleeting goodbye becomes their final goodbye. Dick doesn’t come back until he’s Nightwing and can no longer see him.

It’s a while before anyone can sense him as completely as Dick did. Barbara, as Batgirl, on the rare occasions she came to the Manor (and not the Cave) had never been able to perceive him fully. Had perhaps seen glimpses of him from the corner of her eye, or heard a question in an unfamiliar voice, but they had never really met.

Jason, Tim thinks, came to the Manor old and learned to be young. Had been able to sense Tim better as time passed, an unusual direction, but one that Tim had been grateful for. Because Jason was interesting and fun and so full of life that Tim forgot, sometimes, whenever they were together, that he was a ghost.

Except that was cut short (and Tim wonders, sometimes, if it was his fault. If he might have wished that Jason could join him forever. If somewhere, in a land far away, Jason’s ghost is scared and alone and cursing his name).

The years that follow are long and cold and difficult. Worse, even, than when Bruce stopped seeing him and went away, coming back a stranger with a familiar face and always going to the Cave.

(Tim remembers, when Bruce was younger, the way they’d play at being brave but never daring the Cave. It was deep and dark and what if something were to happen to Bruce? Tim couldn’t get help. And so they avoided it, were awed by it. It was the bottom of the ocean and far flung space, a frontier that maybe they would explore when Bruce was older. But now look at it: Bruce has conquered it, made it into a home of sorts, a base from which his new legacy spreads. And still Tim cannot go in)

But things get better. A new Batgirl, one that can sometimes see him but not hear him–which is just as well, since she does not need words to understand him–and then another, one who can occasionally hear or see him, but not touch him (which he is grateful for, that first meeting, when her instinct is to punch a strange boy suddenly manifesting in front of her).

It is better, yes, but not the same as having a Robin or a Wayne child in the house.

Until, suddenly, there is.

Both even, though this one is far more interested in training in the Cave than indulging a ghost. But things start to come together somehow anyway, Dick and even Jason (somehow alive, not Tim’s fault, didn’t curse him to the same horrible fate) return to the Manor. And while Dick still can’t sense him, he remembers Tim, talks to him and pesters Damian into relaying responses. And Jason–touched by death, yet alive again–can still pinpoint Tim’s location, even without sight, and wrestle him into a playful headlock.

Stephanie and Cassandra and Barbara, who can see or hear him in bits and pieces, belief and perception bolstered by Damian’s honest, if reluctant, words. Alfred, of course, continues to do his best, their chess matches somehow cheerier.

Once, Bruce writes a note and leaves it on the desk in the study, before going behind the grandfather clock. Tim reads it and cries–or the ghostly equivalent of it, having no body or tears–but it is a thing more sweet than bitter, apologies, yes, but gratitude and nostalgia as well. Joy and affection.

Bruce has built a family around him, has filled the Manor with people who know Tim, and while it’s not the same as having his best friend back he thinks that this can be an acceptable replacement.

Except for Damian. It’s not as if Tim is jealous, he is dead and well aware of his role in the Manor–there is no competition, for how could a ghost ever compete with the living? But for some reason, Damian sees just the opposite.

Oh, he will repeat Tim’s words to the others when asked–grudgingly of course–but he will otherwise not acknowledge Tim’s presence. He doesn’t speak to Tim as himself, doesn’t interact with him, doesn’t engage. It’s as if he takes pleasure in making Tim feel as nonexistent as possible.

At one point, it seemed like he might even be trying to exorcise him (thankfully, Alfred put a stop to all that nonsense) though he might very well have continued if it weren’t for Bruce’s death.

And.

It’s stupid and selfish and so untrue, but Tim thinks it hurts him most of all.

He knew Bruce the longest, knew him when he was first brought home to the Manor as a baby. Bruce was his long before he was anyone else’s–before Alfred even–and it seems like his mourning, no longer an unfamiliar creature (and, oh, how silly and foolish he had been, how cruel he must have seemed to a young Bruce newly orphaned so long ago), should be far more than everyone else’s.

But that is not how grief works. Because that is not how family or love work, either, and during this time it cannot be said that isn’t what they are.

Grief works in mysterious ways, though, and while Dick and Jason and Cassandra and Stephanie all spend more and more time down in the Cave (all the better to honor Bruce, Tim knows, the legacy he left them with) Damian spends more time in the Manor. With Tim.

It’s not too little, too late–though he wishes Bruce would have been able to see them get along–but it is, at first, something strange and strained.

He and Damian are not friends yet, but they can learn to be; both of them a different but complementary parts of the Wayne family. Damian tells Tim about the Mission, about Bats and Birds and all the things in the Cave that Tim can never go to. He tells him about his mother, of his grandfather, of a childhood of being trained for two different roles; of swords and death and demons.

Tim teaches Damian his other branch of family history, two boys going down the long row of portraits, going further along each day.

Tim has been part of the Wayne Manor for so long, has watched generations of Wayne children grow up, and while he can remember each of them individually it’s true that sometimes the memories blur. He’s uncertain if it was Thomas or Bruce who broke a window and blamed it on Tim, or if it was Kenneth that unleashed frogs in the kitchen instead of Patrick.

Oh, he knows what they did as adults–even if they stopped seeing Tim by then–but he thinks Damian appreciates the more silly stories from their childhoods. It humanizes them, makes them family and not just genealogy.

Except. They reach the painting for Mordecai Wayne.

And Tim knows: he knows with such a strength (not the guilt ridden thoughts of Jason trapped in a foreign land, away from the Manor, away from Tim) that Bruce is alive.

The others don’t believe him (the others can barely see him–an imaginary friend they’ve outgrown, a child ghost unaware of the world) but Damian does.

It doesn’t matter that they are just children–one of them is a centuries old ghost and the other is Robin–they can do this. They can find Bruce and bring him home.

And Tim and Damian are no longer strangers stuck in the same house, they are friends. They are partners.

When Bruce comes back, he comes back to see his youngest son getting along with his oldest friend, and all is well in the Manor.

… for now…

Because maybe at one point in the future, Damian wants to figure out who exactly Tim is. No longer trying to exorcise him, but to give him a past–a name, a history–that isn’t just the ghost haunting Wayne Manor. How long has he been the Wayne family’s ghost; befriending Wayne children, watching over their home? Who was Tim before that?

And probably–even though Damian doesn’t intend for it to happen–unearthing the truth leads to Tim moving on. No more guardian ghost for the children of Wayne Manor. No more Tim.

But maybe there’s hope. Maybe, ten years after that–when Damian has finally taken up the mantle from his father–a little boy comes to the Manor. One that everyone can see and hear. A little boy named Tim.

Batman needs a Robin, and the Wayne family needs Tim.

~

A/N: a weird brainstorm/fic combination, highly influenced+inspired by @heartslogos’ DCU fic.

Also, written on my phone while I was on a seven hour bus ride so… take that as you will.

BASICALLY, I am always having Tim feels. Always.

Cross-Post: No Lament For Perdix

original here. dated 2011-11-21

[A/N: This was before the DCU reboot but after the promotional re-designs were out]

~

[[Based off the debut art and teaser of DCU Teen Titan’s reboot: “Tim Drake is forced to step out from behind his keyboard… etc.” Though I guess this is just an AU, since I don’t actually know what the reboot is like. I had assumed that they had completely rewritten Tim’s backstory; and that his debut as Red Robin was his first role as a physical vigilante. Also, I’m trying to make sense of that costume. That costume… Oh, Tim dear, what are you wearing?]]

Most people, if asked, can tell you who Icarus is: that Greek guy who flew too close to the sun and died because of it. Some people, if they’re particularly well-read and fond of mythos, may be able to tell you that Icarus died because he was too eager and ambitious when he flew on wax-and-feather wings. Icarus died because his father Daedalus the inventor made him wings to escape the tower they were imprisoned in, and Icarus had been so overjoyed at finally being free. Few people can tell you how the father and son had gotten into that predicament. Daedalus, beyond being the father of Icarus, is a background character in many other Greek mythos. For example, he was the architect who built the Labyrinth; famous for housing the Minotaur of Crete. King Minos of Crete trapped Daedalus and Icarus in the tower: unwilling to have the scandalous secrets of both the Labyrinth and the Minotaur spread but unable to kill them. This was because Daedalus had not always been the King of Crete’s inventor.

Daedalus had been born in Athens, not Crete, and he had been a prince. He attempted to kill his nephew Perdix: not for a politically-acceptable reason like to steal the throne, but because Perdix, even at his young age, had shown signs of being far more ingenious than Daedalus. Perdix, by looking at the discarded bones of a fish, had come up with the idea for the saw–now a primitive cutting tool, but then a revolutionary innovation. Daedalus had thrown his nephew off a cliff but Athena, the goddess of wisdom and mother-deity of their kingdom, saved Perdix by turning him into a bird. She banished Daedalus from Athens, and branded his skin with an image of his nephew’s new form to remind him of his punishment. It was this image of a bird that inspired Daedalus’ escape plan, that brought about Icarus’ brief freedom and sudden death, that caused one boy’s death to become an iconic myth, but not another.

Tim’s mother scoffed at the romanticization of Icarus in Greek mythology. She scorned mythology in general, knowing how ancient poets embellished the facts and how history is written by the victors, but she gave Tim books of mythology anyway; Greek, Egyptian, all kinds, because no child of hers would be ignorant of the past. Archaeology–the study of the past to understand the present and to prevent the same mistakes from happening in the future. Tim may not have much interest in ancient and civilizations, but he understands the utility of pattern recognition and misconduct deterrence. Janet Drake, in her own way, had been a good mother. She had also been a terrible mother, by normal standards of maternal affection and nurturing, but without her Tim would be a very different boy.

Jack Drake, on the other hand, could only be called a father in the technical sense. He provided half of Tim’s biological signature, provided the basic amenities of life, and provided whatever objects he believed Tim would need or want based on his well-meaning but misconceived but view of his son. If Tim didn’t have eidetic memory, he might not recognize his father’s face, though as it is he doesn’t remember what his father’s voice sounded like. Sometimes Tim wonders what he would have been like had his father been around more often. Sometimes Tim wonders what he would be like if they were still alive. But, if he’s going to be honest, he doesn’t imagine he would be all that different. He already lied to them constantly when they were alive, if anything it just makes his life less complicated now that they’re dead.

Tim doesn’t need time to wonder who, if not his parents, would have altered his life had things gone differently. He knows who has changed his life, and who he has to thank or blame for who he is today. Tim’s first memory is so burned into his mind, it has been branded onto his soul much like Daedalus’ punishment was branded onto his skin, and it is similarly of a bird-who-is-a-boy. Even without his photographic memory, Tim could never forget that day: a promise, a performance, two deaths, and a newly made orphan. Richard “Dick” Grayson doesn’t even know Tim’s name, let alone know how significant a role he played in Tim’s life; while a part of Tim will always be that child craving affection, this state of affairs is just fine.

Tim’s opinion of Batman aka Bruce Wayne aka Batman is just as conflicted as the man’s identity. On the one hand, Bruce Wayne had adopted Dick, on the other hand Batman had endangered Robin. Batman was a hero, Batman was a monster, Bruce Wayne was a liar, Bruce Wayne was insane. Bruce Wayne had adopted a boy from the streets, Bruce Wayne seemed to like young boys an awful lot, Batman had replaced Robin, Batman had killed Robin. Batman had failed to save his parents, Bruce Wayne had offered to adopt Tim. Bruce Wayne had rescinded that offer when Batman had discovered Tim’s use of Tim’s computer skills. Batman introduced Tim to Bruce Wayne’s friend Barbara Gordon aka Oracle aka goddess-to-hackers-good-enough-to-know-of-her-existence.

Barbara Gordon. Oracle. If Tim were the literary type, he would say she was his Athena, but he hasn’t decided if he is Perdix or Daedalus or Icarus or a tragic combination of the three or none of them at all so he’s not too sure if that would be a proper comparison. She’s his older sister and his mentor and his guardian angel and his shoulder devil and his everything and Tim is hers. Tim belongs to Barbara. Tim belongs to Oracle. Tim does whatever she tells him to: hacker grunt work, bug installation, Bird of Prey diplomacy, Clocktower cleaning, grocery shopping, whatever. When Barbara tells him to increase his physical training and start constructing those engineering side projects, Tim gives her a look but says nothing in protest. When Oracle tells him to review Batman’s encrypted files of known metahumans, vigilantes and villains alike, Tim hesitates only to ask if he should leave a reassuring message for Bruce. When Tim is given a mission to aid super-powered teenagers against an international organization, Oracle tells him it will not be as a Bird of Prey or as a Knight of Gotham, Barbara tells him it will be as founder of the new Teen Titans.

Cross-Post: The Toss Up (2)

original here. dated 2011-01-19

[A/N: Continuation of yesterday’s The Toss Up (1), which is itself partially based on #3 from iesika’s Tim Drake AU post here]

~

It is several weeks after the attack of the mutant armadillos and Jaime is enjoying having the base to himself, even if only for a little while. It’s not that Tim shows up everyday–even with KORD Industries branching out to El Paso, many of Tim’s duties are still in Chicago–but on the days that he calls ahead, Jaime tries to get there first. To show that he’s not as inept as Tim makes him seem. Though, to be honest, on days when he knows for sure Tim will be in Chicago (or Metropolis or San Francisco or Gotham or wherever KI sends him that’s not El Paso), Jaime doesn’t even use the bases (they only have three but it’s still three too many). It’s not like he really needs them. [tim doesn’t need them, either]

“You can put me down now, Booster.”

“No way, Nymph, you’ll probably shatter.”

“Please put me down now. And don’t call me that.”

Jaime doesn’t really understand the relationship between Tim and Booster Gold. Then again, he doesn’t really understand Booster Gold or Tim separately, so trying to figure out their relationship is like trying to figure out the relationship between quantum physics and ancient Greek philosophy. Theoretically, someone might be able to do it, but it certainly isn’t Jaime. Shut up, Khaji Da. [khaji da did not say anything]

“You’ve told me once, you’ve told me a thousand times. You should just stop resisting. Nymph.”

“Never. Also, you used that expression wrong.”

“Pshaw, that’s what you think. Just wait ‘til the 25th century, it’ll all make sense to you.”

Even if he doesn’t get it, Jaime can still reap the benefits from their weird, barely functional relationship. Whenever Booster visits, and that’s an emphasis on when, Tim’s ire immediately shifts from Jaime and his perceived mistakes to Booster and his… Booster-ness. Usually, Booster visits because he needs Jaime’s help [khaji da’s help] with his latest adventure and not even Tim has figured out how to make comms transmit through time. And sometimes, very rarely, Tim and Booster will reminisce about Ted Kord when Jaime is around to hear it. (Plus, Booster always calls Tim ‘Nymph,’ and that’s just hilarious.)

But right now, Jaime’s just confused. Because right now, held in Booster Gold’s arms is Tim, whose cheek is beginning to darken with a bruise and whose no doubt once expensive suit looks like he walked the entire 1,500 mile trip from Chicago to El Paso.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. Booster, put me down.” Tim bites out, if Khaji Da hadn’t told Jaime months ago that that was how Tim dealt with embarrassment Jaime would be really insulted. This time Booster complies, uncharacteristically lowering Tim to the ground gently. Now free, Tim makes his way to the base’s bathroom with a noticeable hitch in his step. [abrasion on his right ankle. struggled against assailant–kicked unknown blunt weapon.]

When Jaime hears the sink start running, he turns his attention back to Booster and asks, “What happened to him?”

“Hmph, I don’t know if I should tell you, rookie… But I will anyway! His plane was hijacked as soon as it left Chicago. They were holding Nymph and the other passengers hostage for ransom money. But Nymph fought back, just like I taught him to–he would have regained control of the plane all by himself if it weren’t for Superman.”

“Really?” Superman? He’s awesome. [khaji da is better]

“No, not really, they were a five man team. Unless you mean Superman, then yes, he was really there,” Shoeless, in sweats and a t-shirt, a bandage wrapped around his right foot and winding upward, holding an ice pack to his face; this is one of the few times Jaime has ever seen Tim look his age. Like a teenage boy who got into a fight for no reason other than aggression and hormones instead of the KORD Industries’ youngest and most successful CEO who survived yet another hostage situation.

“Did you have any specific reason for being here now, Booster?”

“Do I need a reason to hang out with you guys?”

“Yes.” “No.” [based on past encounters, statistically yes]

“Harsh, Nymph, why can’t you be more like Jaime? I even brought you here when you asked me to.”

“No, you volunteered to bring me here when it looked like Superman was going to do it. And I agreed, because I thought you would also have a reason to see Jaime and Khaji Da.”

“Well I don’t. I came here to help you.”

“Then you can go now, because I don’t need your help anymore.”

“You don’t have to do everything by yoursel-”

“Please go, Booster, I’m tired and you’re not helping.”

“Nymph-”

“Hey,” With the way both Tim and Booster swing their heads to look at him, like snakes staring down prey, Jaime almost regrets speaking up. Almost, “If you don’t need anything from us, you can go. We’ll see you next time,”

“Yes, another time, Booster.”

“Well alright, kiddos. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” And with that, he was gone.

“Thank you, Jaime,”

“He was right you know, you don’t have to do everything by yourself. You’ve got Khaji Da and me,” [yes]

Cross-Post: The Toss Up (1)

original here. dated 2012-01-19

~

[[Based somewhat off #3 from this post by iesika. Basically, it’s a world where Tim is Ted Kord’s protégé, but Jaime still becomes the Blue Beetle. I don’t know that much about the Blue Beetle comics, though, so I’m kind of just making shit up.]]

When Jaime gets to this week’s hidden base after school Monday, Tim has already set up shop on the widest work table. Figures. Jaime’s hope to get there first was clearly futile.

“How was your day?” Tim asks without looking up from his sketch, which Jaime–in a completely indifferent and unsupportive manner–thinks might be something cool. But he doesn’t care at all. [it’s blueprints for hover shoes] Damn it, that’s kick ass.

“Fine.”

“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Khaji Da,”

Jaime is really trying not to shoot a rocket (or twelve) at Tim’s serenely smug face. He may not actually be smirking, but Jaime knows he might as well be. It doesn’t help that Khaji Da is doing that not-laughing thing which feels like the something is vibrating in Jaime’s brain. And the damn scarab would never let Jaime hurt Tim anyway. [tim is an integral part of the Blue Beetle. as much as khaji da and jaime] “I thought you were going to be in a meeting until late,” by which Jaime really means, I wish you would just stay at work and never leave so that I don’t have to interact with you ever again. Please.

“The board of directors were far more compliant than I had anticipated. Probably because my tech won K.O.R.D a government contract that Wayne Industries was also gunning for. Hmm, gunning for. The contract was for a better armor.” Is Tim… smiling? [yes] Is that (an attempt at) a joke? [also yes] Well, he did seem less… bitchy. [tim is never ‘bitchy’ to khaji da]

“Oh, that’s… really… congratulations?” Less bitchy was definitely something Jaime wanted to encourage, “I’m sure Mr. Kord would be proud of you,”

That makes Tim look up at him. Blue eyes wide with shock for such a brief moment, Jaime thinks he imagines it. [jaime didn’t imagine it. tim’s eyelids were 2.174 millimeters more open than his default] Then he looks away, curls up on himself like Tim always does (but pretends he doesn’t) whenever Ted Kord is mentioned. But he’s still smiling.

“I hope so,”

And that’s all they say for the rest of the day. Until mutant armadillos start rampaging through the town and they get into an argument over the comms because Tim keeps backseat driving and Jaime keeps making the situation worse because he’s not listening and Khaji Da keeps flying in nauseating loop-de-loops.