Tim Drake
16 July 2012 @ 12:56 pm
[There is some very tiny meowing in the background, if anyone's listening close enough.]

Claudia's gone too, if anyone's looking for her. Looks like she's coming back. [But he sounds not super okay because WHAT DOES THIS NOTE MEAN, CLAUDIA, HE IS V. CONFUSED. :C]

[Private to Willow]

If you need something, I'll do my best to deal with it.

[Private to Dick]

Can we get a drink or something? Or will you lecture me.

[Private to Kirk]

Just tell me straight up, is asking you for advice a monumentally terrible idea?
 
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Tim Drake
07 April 2012 @ 09:16 pm
I never realized how mind numbing this place can be without an inmate. [Without someone to focus on while secretly angsting and freaking out, anyway.]

[Private to Zuko]

Your sister's here. Thought you'd want a heads up.

[Private to Cissie]

You talked to him. [Why is he an inmate, where is he from, he isn't Prime right but WHAT IS HAPPENING. :c]

[Private to Dick]

I think this could only be worse if he was Prime.

[Private to Merlin]

I heard some noise in the hall the other day. [Like you getting slapped :v] Everything okay?
 
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Tim Drake
05 September 2011 @ 04:38 pm
[Private to Sylar]

We need to talk.

[Private separately to Dick and Cissie]

I'm going home for a while. I shouldn't be long.

[Public, posted after the talking to the above]

[It sounds rehearsed, and maybe it is. Carefully picked out words that convey what he's doing and not why.]

I'm heading home later today. I'll be back soon. If there are any requests from Gotham, let me know.
 
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Tim Drake
04 May 2011 @ 02:50 pm
It looks like we're in the process of losing a lot of people - but at least this time it's for a good reason. I should've said congratulations when it really would have meant something, but, well. [He's been busy brooding. :|] It's always nice to see a graduation.

Does anyone play football? It's something I always wanted to do when [why does it sound like 'when I was a kid' would fit so well here] I was in high school, but I never really got around to it. If there's any interest, I'll ask the Admiral for a football. [And now he sounds thoughtful and kind of distant, like he isn't exactly thinking about this.] It's been years since I threw a football around.

[In fact, the last time he did was with his dad, not long before he died. The distance drops out of his voice, and there's some shifting on his end, like he's shaking himself.] Anyway. Let me know.

[Private to Shego]

...So, how much did we mean, in the CES?

[Private to Bailey]

I know none of it actually happened, but...I would really like to keep up those medical lessons.

[Private to the Admiral]

I'd like a football, please.

[Private to Dick]

[Added after this] I think I'm gonna go get a drink. Want to come?
 
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Tim Drake
01 September 2010 @ 01:50 pm
[See, the problem with being saved by Sylar is that Tim wasn't the one doing the saving. And that's okay, really, his control issues don't stretch nearly that far; but they do when it means he couldn't save other people. There were a lot of wardens stuck in that basement, after all, and some of them were his friends. And one was among his oldest friends. So when Tim was tricked into returning, he was more than a little freaked that Cissie would be stuck there. It's never happened before, but those ghosty bastards almost OD'd him; the stutter is still in full force. Thank God that'll fade.]

Cissie! Where - if he didn't get you, I - Cis-ssie, please, just--

You tricked m-me, I wasn't going to le-eave her there, da-amn it!

(((Derp, I forgot, sorry! :c)))
 
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Tim Drake
10 July 2010 @ 02:51 pm
It's a gas. It's - it's fear gas. Crane's fear gas. It's from Gotham, it-- [He breaks off, silent for a few seconds - dealing with his own hallucinations. Skeletal Batman? Check. There are sounds of movement, Tim stumbling around his room and looking for his costume.]

I have an antidote. I need -the lab, or the infirmary. I can make more. I need--

[There's another pause, because he's busy stabbing himself with that antidote.] Cissie, where are you? Martha? Sylar - Sylar, where are you? [He's a little terrified that Sylar will get gassed and use his powers.]
 
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Tim Drake
08 April 2009 @ 03:01 am
 
[Tim's sitting on his bed, a few feet away from his desk and computer. One leg's hanging off the bed, the other bent and propping up a text book in his lap. He's wearing a pair of checked black and green flannel pants, shirtless. A bandage runs across his chest and over one shoulder; the light is dim, but a scattering of scars may be visible on his chest. There's music playing in the background, quietly. After moment, Tim starts mumbling along with the song.]

I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means
It puts the wrong plan
In the wrong hands
With the wrong theory for the wrong man
The wrong lies, on the wrong vibes
The wrong questions with the wrong replies...

[He trails off, setting aside the book to wander to his window, standing next to his bedside table. There he picks up a picture frame, holding it in both hands and staring before looking out the window again.]

Made the wrong move, every wrong night
With the wrong tune played till it sounded right...
 
 
Current Music: Wrong - Depeche Mode
 
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Tim Drake
30 March 2009 @ 10:00 pm
Livejournal was officially a thing of evil. It was a fucking wonder she hadn't broken the laptop, honestly; her phone was off and buried under a pile of laundry on the floor. That had to be what Bruce had used to film it; it was the only thing at that angle. And Tim was on her bed, turning a Rubik's cube in her hands continuously, only sometimes paying attention to it.

The worst part about all of this, though, the absolute worst part? Tim was still a girl. She was still down one Y-chromosome, she still couldn't go out on patrol, and when she'd tried to work off the fury, she'd actually hurt herself. This body had not trained for years, and though she still knew every skill, form, and martial art she'd known as a boy, she couldn't do half of it without the physical conditioning. It was maddening.

She retreated - with an icepack on her shoulder - to her room, still frustrated, but mostly brooding. Upset just sounded too feminine to deal with right now. It was entirely sexist, but Tim could worry about that later. She'd gotten drunk. She'd let Tony kiss her - sort of - and she'd kissed Nygma. Not was kissed, initiated it. Her hands tightened on the cube, turning it faster. Blue, orange, blue, blue, white. Turn. White, white, green, red. Turn - fuck. She was holding it so tight it was getting hard to actually turn.

Closing her eyes, Tim's grip slacked and she rolled onto her side, holding it on the bed beside her. So Eris was a liar, Eddie just kept talking about it, even if it was embarrassment, and Bruce was disappointed in her. He wasn't her Bruce, and it was obvious that he didn't understand - well - a lot. But he was still Bruce Wayne, and for whatever reason - no, not whatever reason, it was because Tim had talked to him, he wasn't just a random multiversal double - his opinion still mattered. Hearing him tell her flat out that he was disappointed was only slightly worse than him telling Dick that Tim had been over estimated.

Her stomach rolled and she pressed her face into the pillow under her head. She was still glad she'd hacked into their talk; at least, she was still telling herself she was glad. It was better than not knowing exactly what he thought of her.

The only upside to this - maybe, she thought, maybe - was Dick's 180 defense. But she didn't want to read too far into that.
 
 
Current Location: Home
 
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Tim Drake
19 February 2009 @ 01:42 am
 Met the man who killed my mom tonight.

Not quite what I imagined it would be all these years.
 
 
Current Mood: justified
 
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