#Red Robin (Tim Drake)

[luliadraws]

The implementation of Tim’s cowl

[nemoredraw]

[chocor0se]

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

[emi-gelfling]

To quote my mom: "breaking da law, breaking da law!"

LINK TO "More Like Home:"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58700809/chapters/149578729

[feelingbat-ty]

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

Dick: Hey Tim!

Tim: Dick, hi

Dick: Okay Tim.

Tim: yeah?

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

Tim, has everything he could ever possibly want: uhhh

Tim: A bottle of Jäegermeister.

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

Tim: Uhhhhhhhh

Tim: Two bottles of Jäegermeister!!

[tarta-de-limon]

Someone stop him...

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

[rube-too-many-fandoms]

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

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

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

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

[kristiliqua]

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

[spider-jaysart]

This is what comes into my head everytime with these nicknames

[gothamgabber]

Oh dear!

There seems to be excessive number of Batmen in Gotham City again! So far I've spotted our standard variant, one with working wings, and one who possibly ate Bane!

And there is at least one other Red Robin around, but the last I saw of him he and our version were being dragged off toward the docks by a very excited blond guy.

Good for them!

*Update*

There's our Spoiler, a purple Batgirl, and a blonde Robin recreating the Spider-Man meme on a rooftop near mine.

[luliadraws]

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

[jayson10traplo]

Tim angst 😞 sorry

[nemoredraw]

This duo.

[chocor0se]

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

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Like a watchdog at your door (like a veil over your heart)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.6k

genre: fluff kinda, hurt/comfort

warnings: hmm depression but it's vague, there's a lot of wolf analogy in this one idk, nothing too bad here honestly

a/n: guys I'm so sorry I'm depressed and it's bleeding into this I'm soooooooooooorry

When you hear the sound of your balcony door sliding closed, thumping against the frame with a quiet thud that resonates through your apartment, you know that it's for your benefit. You know that Red Robin could easily come and go without you noticing.

You do wonder, as you stare at the darkness of your ceiling, the blankets of your bed piled around you, if he'll just leave when you don't come out to see him - if he'll think that you're not home, maybe, and he'll disappear. You wonder if maybe he'll just walk away.

But you lay in silence, straining to hear any sort of noise, any indication that he's coming or going, when a quiet, gentle knock sounds against your closed bedroom door.

Maybe he doesn't know you're here. Maybe he'll go away. Maybe he'll - sure enough, the faint shadow of his figure disappears from the crack under the door and you roll over away from it, choosing instead to face the sprawling city and the ever-glowing lights of Gotham that illuminate the night sky.

When Red Robin's figure grapples into the side of your building, his feet propped up on the ledge of your window while he stares at you through the glass, you shoot up and stumble over to rip the window open for him.

"What's wrong with you?" you ask him bluntly, staring at him like climbing in through your bedroom window is the wildest thing he could've done. To be fair, it's the wildest thing he has done so far - as far as you're aware, he's never even seen your bedroom. You've been careful, of course, the two of you, to keep your conversations to the neutrality of your living room or the back alleys winding below.

But Red Robin isn't listening to you. He's grabbing you by the shoulders, instead, pushing you slightly to hold you at arm's length and let the solid white eyes of his mask sweep over you.

"Red?" you ask cautiously. His gaze snaps to your face and his grip on your shoulders tightens as he stares at you. There's a wildness about him, a quick rise of his chest as he breathes and a tremor running through him that isn't like him. "Red-" you start again.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, his voice sharp.

"What's wrong with you? I already asked that," you point out as he sighs ever so noticeably, letting the grip that he has on your shoulders loosen just the slightest bit.

"You haven't been answering your phone," he says haltingly, his voice low. "And you haven't been- I haven't seen you anywhere." You scoff and lift your arms to knock his wrists up and off of you, spinning on your heel to flop back onto your bed and begin to bury yourself under the pillows there.

"I'm taking some time off, that's all," you sigh. Red Robin stands, staring at you as you lay there.

"What?' he asks bluntly.

"Vacation, Red. I'm sure you've heard of it. I'm on vacation."

"No, you're not," he says slowly. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, bemusement flashing over your face at his peculiar behaviour.

"What, do you work in HR now? What are we talking about?" you quip, but he just continues staring at you.

"You're not vacationing," he says slowly. "You're right here."

"I'm taking time off is all I mean," you sigh, letting your arms straighten out as you lay back again.

"So something is wrong."

"There doesn't have to be something wrong for me to take time off, Red," you sigh. "It's just something that people do."

"It's not something that you do," he points out, finally shaking himself out of whatever panic he's been in so that he can take a step towards you. "Tell me what's going on."

"I don't… There's nothing to tell," you say quietly, plucking at a loose thread on one of your pillowcases while you turn your head to look at him, your brows furrowed and mouth downturned. "I just needed… a break. That's all."

"You knew I was here and you didn't come out to see me," he points out quietly, shifting ever so slightly on his feet. You roll your eyes and look back up at the ceiling, throwing an arm over your face.

"What, are you hurt?" you quip easily, but there's no response. When Red Robin's boots thud quietly across the room toward you, you know, once again, that it's for your benefit. You appreciate that, you realize, when you feel a weight sagging the mattress next to you.

"Not hurt," his voice is… quiet - gentle in a way that doesn't seem to fit the razor-sharp look in his eyes. "Just worried." That makes you lift your arm to look at where he's now perched on your bed beside you, sitting and looking down at you like he's some sort of angel watching over you. You clear your throat, shifting and letting your side press against his thigh.

"There's nothing to worry about, Red," you say softly, letting a hand come up to fiddle with the end of his cape where it sweeps out over your legs. "I'm alright."

"You're not yourself," he says firmly. You shoot him a look and he can't help but let his lips quirk up into something that resembles a smile at the mirth that flashes over your face. 

"I'm just a little tired," you offer weakly, and Red Robin hums in understanding, reaching forward to brush a stray strand of hair from your face as you hold your breath from the contact. He's here, sitting in your bed and letting his leg press against you, letting you smooth your hand over the length of his cape and letting his own hand smooth over your cheek. 

"You need to take care of yourself," he says quietly, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. As your eyes flutter closed for just a moment, it's almost like it's his own skin brushing against yours.

"I am," you respond stubbornly, and you're familiar with the scathing look that he shoots you. But you find that, these days, it doesn't have quite the same effect that it used to. These days, he's not so much circling you as prey as he's a wolf sitting at your door, growling and snapping at the outside world.

You wonder, with a fizzling sort of feeling in your gut, if you've domesticated him - if you've wrangled some sort of collar onto the threat that slipped into your living room and cornered you all those nights ago. As he lets his fingers trail from your cheek down to your neck, pressing just under your jaw slightly to feel the thumping of your heart and the steady rhythm of it, you wonder if he's aware that his teeth have gotten so dull - that his bite is so weak and his claws are so far back. 

"Why won't you let me help you?" he asks softly, smoothing his thumb over your throat as he stares down at you, black hair falling over his masked face.

"I think you're helping me right now," you offer gently, staring up at him with wide, honest eyes as you let him put his hands on you.

"You're not letting me in," it's not a question when he says it. It's a statement, laced with hurt and frustration and a hint of the biting, snapping jaws of a wolf that you once knew.

"Why don't you take off your mask?" your question makes him freeze, his thumb pausing on its trail across your throat as he exhales roughly and leans back to look down at you. "Exactly," you mutter as you roll over onto your side, letting your stomach press against his thigh. Outside, the sounds of Gotham float up through the open window and into the dark room, endless bouts of laughter and shouting and everything in between. It's the sound of the world moving outside, and you find, a bit dully, that you're content to miss out on that as long as he keeps sitting here with you.

"I don't think I know how," Red Robin offers the confession slowly - his voice quiet and halting as he lets his eyes trail away from your watchful, sharp gaze.

"It's easy," you say bluntly. "Just peel it back."

"You first," he snaps a bit, bares his bloodied teeth a bit, but his gloved hand smooths over your thigh where it curls around his back and it muddles the threat just a bit too much.

"…I'm not sure I know how," you admit slowly, closing your eyes and tilting your face to press into the pillow. You breathe deeply, for a while, letting the trailing of his hand over your skin and the sound of your own breath fill the air.

You swear - you swear that you feel his lips press against your forehead ever so gently, but when you open your eyes he's sitting up normally and staring out your window, nothing amiss other than a pink blush blooming under his mask. 

"This is nice, at least… for now," you offer quietly, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. He leans down to let you - leans down like a muzzled dog and lets you card your fingers through his hair. "Can we do this? Just for now? Just for a little while?"

"For as long as you need," he answers quickly - answers like a hunting dog obeying the sound of a whistle. "Anything, I'll… Whatever you need."

"Thank you, Red," you say it quietly, your voice muffled as you squeeze your eyes closed, willing sleep to take you, if only for a bit. And he stays, of course, like a watchdog at your door, and chisels his home further into your soul.

[krisyona1994]

Gesture study with Tim Drake as Red Robin.

Time-lapse below

DC Fanart Masterlist

Fandom Masterlist