Tim Drake for headcannons
BLESS YOU. I love him and will talk about my boy always. As with Damian, the hardest thing will be teasing out headcanons that I donāt already have plans to write fics around!
Tim has a tumultuous relationship with noise. Like Bruceās relationship with Talia, there is only love or hate with no in-between. His house growing up (not his home, never his home) was always so quiet. If his parents were around, they were sleeping. If they were awake, they were sequestered in separate parts of the house, not talking to him or each other. His house was entombed with silence.
When they were home, he let it lie. He had learned long ago that it wasnāt worth the trouble to get their attention. Best to stay quiet and out of the way. When the silence grew too stifling, he would place headphones over his ears and blast music.
When they were gone, he filled the house with noiseāthe chatter of the television, the bass-thumping roar of the stereo, the whirr of the mixer and the blender, the sound of his own voice, talking aloud to no one but his own thoughts. He would wrap the cacophony around him like a thick woolen blanket, shielding him from the echoing chill of the empty house.
But that was noise he could control. Accustomed to silence and solitude as he was, Tim has a difficult time dealing with the chaos of the Manor. When it was just he and Bruce and Alfred, it wasnāt too bad. In fact, in those days of brooding, broken Bruce, the heavy silence in the Manor was too familiar for comfort. But now with the Manor full of people, both residents and frequent visitors, Tim can find himself battling for balance.
He needs the silence to think, to breathe. On a normal day, the noise is bearable, only just. But there are days when Tim is tired. Stressed. Underfed. Weighted by expectations and responsibilities. And he canāt handle it. Many times, he snaps something sarcastic or frustrated and disappears. No one is particularly concerned. Itās just Tim, perpetually running-on-fumes Tim. Heās fine. But itās also not uncommon, if one should bother to look, to find Tim squirreled away in one of the dark corners of the Manor, hidden behind layers of doors, or crouching down in the Cave, as far away from the others as he can get.
Once, Bruce found Tim huddled in the shoe alcove of a guest room, a nook inside the closet, inside the bath, inside the bedroomāshielded by door after door after door after door and at the end of a long, seldom used hall. Tim had his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. Bruce didnāt ask. Instead, he sat next to his son in the silence and waited.
The next day, a pair of industrial noise-cancelling headphones appeared on Timās bed, along with a note scribbled in a distinctive, hurried scrawl. Go when you need to. Come back when you can. You were missed.
Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious
Not hilarious, per se, but lighthearted.
Tim paints his nails. Honestly, Stephanie started it. They were slumming around the Manor one night, complaining about school and life and Bruce, and she finished her own nails and started painting his. Tim had officially been awake for far too long and didnāt even notice, not until he finally got some sleep and woke up to find his nails painted a charming pale lavender.
He kept it up, because he liked the aesthetic, because he liked keeping his hands busy, because he liked being purposely different from the others, rather than different in all the ways he couldnāt control and couldnāt change.
Heās not particularly good at it, even with lots of practice. He still makes a mess and floods his cuticles and touches the polish too early when itās almost dry but still smudgeable. But he likes it. And he blushes only a little when Cassāand sometimes Dick and, once, Jasonāasks him to do theirs.
Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends
The first time Dick saw Tim cry was Timās first birthday after becoming Robin. Tim had been sporting the domino for a few months now and doing a bang-up job, Dick had to admit. They were still more tentative acquaintances than friends, what with Dick living in Bludhaven and Timās natural shyness, but Dick was determined to form a bond. He appreciated what Tim meant to Bruce, the role he was playing in both their lives, and he understood what a special kid Tim was. More importantly, Dick was determined not to make the same mistakes he had with Jason.
It had taken surprisingly little arm-twisting to get Bruce to agree to a tiny party for Timās birthday. Maybe it helped that the crowd truly is tinyājust Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Babs, and Timās friend Stephanie. Maybe it helped that Bruce was also thinking of past mistakes. Making it a surprise party had also been Dickās idea. Who didnāt love a surprise party? They didnāt even need to invite Tim over. He always came by after school to run through case files with Bruce. They could just wait in the dining room and surprise him when he walked in. (Well, Dick, Alfred, Babs, and Steph could. Bruce could look on impassively.)
It might have been okay if Alfred hadnāt been doing some deep-cleaning in the parlor that day. Or maybe not. Maybe Tim would have always jumped to the wrong conclusions. Maybe the eerie silence in the Manor would have been enough, but the dust covers over the furniture, the pulled drapes, and the silver boxed for cleaning certainly hadnāt helped.
Tim called Bruceās name as he walked through the Manor, his voice becoming more uncertain with each step. When he walked into the dining room and they shoutedĀ āSurprise!ā, Dick had expected a jump, maybe a little scream, maybe some embarrassed laughter. He hadnāt expected Tim to burst into tears. Hadnāt expected the tears to continue, for Tim to sob so hard that he bent over, then knelt with one hand braced on the floor, the back of his other hand pressed to his mouth as he desperately tried to stop.
Alfred had taken firm control, ushering Dick, Babs, and Steph out the far end of the dining room as Bruce hurried to the boy. As the doors swung shut, Dick had caught the gasping, hiccuping explanation.
āI thought youād left. I thought youād left me.ā
Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.
Tim didnāt know Bruce was alive. He didnāt have a feeling. He didnāt have a clue. He just couldnāt face the idea of losing the one person who meant more to him than anyone else. Even before Bruce was Bruce, he was Batman. He was consistency. He was safety. Tim couldnāt face a world without that. So he kept pushing until reality bent to his will. Bruce Wayne, alive, pulled back by Tim.Ā
(Tim so rarely sets his mind on things, rather than bending to the weight of what is and must be. Given the power of his results, thatās probably for the best.)
Drop me an ask with a character name and an indication that itās for the headcanon meme, and Iāll give you four headcanons following the above four prompts! Yes, you can give me a character Iāve already done if you want more about that person.
And you can follow all my answers at the tag āheadcanon timeā.
