Tim Drake

“I’m Robin. Batman’s Better Half.” Tim Drake/Red Robin Lit/Descriptive Writer ♡ & ↻

How nice that he’s got a built-in blanket. The cape will never be enough to completely cover her, but it gets rather close to it when he puts his arms around Effie. Here, he can fall asleep in seconds.

((i WILL make this account pretty. soon. maybe..))

i guess i’ve proven that it’s what i do best.

“I’ll walk,” he insists, lifting a mask back to his eyes. “Unless it’s you making dinner. Then I might take a ride. You’re comfortable, you know?”

a darling thing. It ignites his memories of her, and his gloved hands lay atop her own while it develops. When it ends, he means to huff in order to punctuate his point, but it comes off as a (dreamy) sigh. “Let’s go get that food, huh?”

Tim knows it’ll take some time, but he can’t help the way he feels. He isn’t usually so forward, but there’s no time, in his mind, to find way to voice his ideas without being demanding. The way she holds his hand is perfect. And, as always, Effie’s kiss is ++

((reposted to fix typo 😔))

It’s like Tim knows just what she means. He really can’t say he’d act any different than Effie—but the full discussion is a topic for a different time. “I’m just saying… don’t make me wait for you so long and then hold me like you don’t mean it. Either do or don’t.”

A dark lock of hair falls in his face, and he’s quick to blow it out. He doesn’t know if she’s being intentionally oblivious, or… “Like I’m made of glass,” he answers. “I’m right here. It’s not like I’m going away.”

The already-lively skin becomes warmer beneath her palm, and Tim has to sigh. It’s a long time before he inhales again. “Why do you hold me like that?”

Blue eyes look around her at first—drawing a perfect silhouette of Effie in the air before they finally return to her eyes. “You’re just saying that,” he says with a dull smile. “Come on—we should get something to eat. I’m starving.”

His grumbling tone does little to hide the fact that he’s glad to see her. It’s in his nature to brood, after all. And he can’t quite stop himself from looking over his shoulder at the warrior. “It’s the mask,” he admits. “I look like hell.”

His arms cross over his chest. The intimidation works at first, until she continues. It sounds like disapproval. He looks away (and saves himself from being further towered over). “Don’t make me feel guilty for missing you.”

He stops, standing up just a little straighter. It does nothing to make him (at all) comparable to her in height, but he’s doing his best. “What brings you… around?”

A dark cape twirls as he swings to face whatever’s coming. A batarang in one gloved hand, Tim turns to toss it at the thing that ascends… Oh, it’s just Effie. He waves.

Are you sure?

“I am Damian Wayne. Son of the Bat, and Grandson to the demons head!” 🦇Semi-Cannon portrayal of Damian. 🦇Mostly just here to insult peoples intelligence. 🦇/Mun is 24, follow if you want he’s 18+ for language and gore. NO LEWD./ 🦇Dark Themes. 🦇#HellsFire

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