i'm in love with that drawing of tim

“Is Bruce in here?” Tim figured he might be— Bruce spent a lot of time in the children’s wing of Wayne Enterprises. There were a dozen or so kids in daycare most weekdays, and Bruce liked to hang out.

Tim liked to hang out too. They had nice snacks, and he’d known most of the kids since they were toddlers. And sometimes naps were mandatory.

“Conference call,” Damian told him. (For someone who claimed to hate naps, snackfood, kids, and humanity in general, Damian also spent a lot of time in the children’s wing.) “I don’t know where.” 

He went back to what he was doing, which was arranging a set of pewter soldiers into a complex model of a battlefield, presumably for the benefit of the preschooler sitting next to him. 

“What’s this?”

“The Battle of Issus, 333 BC.”

“Right, obviously.” Tim decided he was curious, so he settled down on the mats to watch.  Damian finished his model; he pulled a marker from the art table and used it as a pointer. 

“Okay. This is the Macedonian army, outnumbered but in the better tactical position, south of the Pinarus River. Their leader is Alexander the Great. And this—” He pointed to his enemy line. “—is the Achaemenid Empire. They’re about to lose.”

Damian tapped his marker on the Macedonian right. “This is the companion calvary, Alexander’s elite force, and they—” he cut off when he noticed his pupil digging in the toy bin, clearly distracted. The kid came up with a battered Transformer, which he set behind Damian’s lines. 

“Elliot. Alexander did not have robots.”

“But,” said Tim, rummaging through the box himself, “did he have wizards?” He pulled a bearded magician out of the tub and held it up for Damian to see. 

“You know he didn’t.”

Tim passed the wizard to Elliot. “But what if he did?”


“How would that go?”


“Abracadabra, Alexander!” Elliot yelled, gleefully smashing through Damian’s entire left flank.

“Damn it, Drake.” Damian sighed in frustration— not quite the rise Tim was hoping for, but still something. He dropped Elliot’s discarded robot back into the box.

“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Tim told him. “Elliot’s four. He’s too young for— what is this— military history?”

“He was doing fine before you showed up.” Damian started to re-erect his soldiers, but he gave it up after Elliot came in for a second pass. “Which is typical, isn’t it?”

“Good one.”

“Thank you.” Damian crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll bite. When is he supposed to learn this kind of thing?”

“High school? Maybe never.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Frequently.” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m getting a second opinion.”

“I’ll wait.”

Damian checked the room for potential allies. “Thomas?” he called over his shoulder, “You learned military strategy as a kid, right?”

Duke looked up from the book he was reading to a pair of kindergardeners. “Just you, man.”

“Told you.” Tim fished a bag of plastic ninja from the toy box and arranged them pointedly into a row. “How are you still surprised by this kind of thing?”

Damian glared at him. “Okay, first of all? I’m not a— hold on a second. Elliot!”

Elliot froze with a large, plastic dinosaur held aloft over the battlefield. He drew it sheepishly back to his chest. “Sorry.”

“Not in the calvary wing,” Damian told him. “You’ll scare the horses.”

“Here?” Elliot pointed to the front of the phalanx.



“Aim for his center.” Damian turned back to Tim. “Anyway. Why are you still talking to me? I thought we had an agreement about unnecessary contact.”

Keep reading

I’m obsessed with the idea of Ravenclaw Tim and had been drawing him over and over and over……….

That time Tim Drake gave a speech but it was all memes

okay this is late but based off this post by @askagothamite

if you’ve never played, “what are the odds” is like truth or dare, but someone says “What are the odds you’ll do this” and then depending on how much you’re willing to do it you give them the odds, ex. 1 out of 25. Then on the count of three you both say a number between 1 and 25 and if it’s the same number you have to do the thing. so saying the odds and 1 out of 2 is like a fifty-fifty chance. i’ll stop rambling now.


Bruce sighs deeply as he removes his cowl, almost sticking to his face from all the leftover grime of the latest Justice League mission. His muscles are stiff and sore, but he is unwilling to admit to himself that he had a little trouble keeping up with Dinah earlier in the day. Deep in thought about just when she got so damn fast, he vaguely picks up the sound of a local news channel echoing through the corridors of the cave. One of the boys must have left it on, for the rest of those who frequent the space have respect for conserving energy.

He trudges out of the garage and towards the TV screens, feeling quite at home after spending a day in sunny Metropolis. Bruce expects at least a couple of the kids to be hanging around, as they tend to do, but he finds himself alone. He allows himself to enjoy the feeling of bliss. The man settles down in his chair, ready to enter some new files, as he listens in on the TV playing above him.

“-The Gotham Knights beating the Metropolis Meteors by four runs this afternoon…” Bruce snickers as he realizes Clark will be writing that story up for tomorrow. It’s the little things. But the news lady drones on, this time with more inflection, “But the main story tonight is of course Timothy Drake-Wayne, former acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Bruce Wayne’s adopted son, announcing a very surprise press conference…”

Batman feels any ounce of what was once tranquility leave his body. He knows Tim is a smart kid. A really smart kid. But he also knows his drive. The way he will see anything to its end. And recently, things with the kids have been a little tense. He gives up any hope of filing, all his attention is solely on what might come out of his son’s mouth.

Bruce watches as the teenager walks on stage, dressed smartly and with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Tim catches the camera and gives it a long stare with a smug smile, one that boldly says nothing but “I win.” The older man sinks into his chair, regretting ever coming home. The kids have been insufferable lately, even more than usual. It all started when Duke showed them a game he used to play as a kid. “What Are The Odds?”

He cringes everytime he hears the phrase, because he knows it will definitely be followed by an act of public stupidity. Now their version of “Truth or Dare?”, it started out innocently enough. A fun way to get them through slow nights of patrol or Wayne Galas that never seem to end. But, “What are the odds you’ll knock-knock ditch that house?” quickly devolved into “What are the odds you’ll swing all the way back to the manor in nothing but your domino mask?”

Bruce knows his kids, and he knows that none of them are very great at losing. It is in their nature to take a fun children’s game and twist it into a cut-throat competition, with most of the bets going at 1 out of 2 odds, almost guaranteeing the crazy dares with how in-sync all of them are.  

He can only imagine what this one might be.

Tim moseys up to the microphone stand, with a certain swagger about him. Bruce can say a lot about his kids, but none of them lack confidence when they need it. He watches as Tim tries to grab the microphone, and struggles as he can’t get it out. Suddenly, it slides out of the holder and careens towards him, clocking the former robin in the nose and making a hideous screeching noise as it bounces on the stage.

Bruce slowly lowers his head into his hands, rubbing his aching temples. He sees right through Tim’s theater acting routine, but his audience seems to have bought it.

Except for a few concerned gasps, the mass crowd of media personnel that had quickly gathered minutes before this impromptu meeting was dead silence as they watched the young man stumble around onstage.

Tim finally gathers his bearings, leaning down to acquire the forgotten microphone. As he straightens back up he mumbles something under his breath. But it was just clear enough to be unmistakeable.

“Thanks, Batman.”

Bruce pauses as every muscle in his body goes stiff. He knows what this is. He hates that he knows what this is.

Tim loudly clears his throat when upright again. He looks at a crumpled paper in his hand, but Bruce knows whatever he’s about to say he’s got memorized no doubt. The teen begins his speech with the utmost sincerity.

“Thank you all for joining me today on such short notice. But I believe this is a topic that needed to be addressed. I recently, and I’m sure you have too, have noticed an uptick of conversations surrounding a certain “conspiracy” on many internet chatrooms.”

Batman wonders what he did to deserve this.

“2,786. Not only is that the number of siblings I have, but it also happens to be the number of men, and women, compiled onto a very comprehensive list of possible masked crusaders.”

Tim clicks the remote in his hand, causing the powerpoint displayed behind him to advance. This slide displays the words “WHO IS THE BATMAN?” boldly typed in Comic Sans, surrounded by pictures of various celebrities, politicians, prominent members of society, and some random stock images. Each and every one of them has a black mask sloppily drawn onto the tops of their faces, likely with MS Paint.

“And among this list is someone very dear to my heart.”

He advances the slideshow once more, and the title this time is “BRUCE WAYNE.” Below it is a picture of a man with dark hair, pale skin, a sharp business suit, and a drawn Batman mask, someone who happens to be most definitely not Bruce Wayne.

The camera pans to a familiar group of young people in the audience, ones fighting very hard to keep their straight faces. Bruce swears he even sees a tear roll down Dick’s cheek. He doesn’t care if most of them have moved out, they’re all grounded.

“Rumors like these are not victimless crimes. They are hurtful and damaging. Batman’s street cred takes a hit every time someone compares him to rich, sissy businessmen like us. If this trend continues at the rate it’s growing, the Batman will no longer be able to operate. Maybe he’ll just become a supervillain. None of them are really that frightening.”

Bruce’s phone is ringing but he does not want to talk to Lucius at the moment. He’ll deal with the PR disaster tomorrow.

“Like seriously, I heard Batman once played Russian Roulette with a loaded gun and won. Bruce stubbed his toe the other day and cried for like three hours.”

Bruce would get him back for that one next time he sees the Teen Titans. He just needs to decide which embarassing secret to tell.

“In conclusion, Bruce Wayne is not Batman. I sort of wish he was, but he’s not. Who we really should be looking into is Keanu Reeves.”

Tim takes a deep breath and brings the microphone close.

“Because despite whatever proof you think you might have, the butts. don’t. match.”

“This blogger draws Sweeney Todd quite a lot…” (And is still incapable of drawing him…)

Well now I’m just bored and telling you about myself through bad doodles. XD


Hahaha maybe? It could actually be fun to have him added to the mix if he were written well and sort of self-aware.

  • Damian Wayne: This Bat Juice is essentially rat poison. Everybody's intoxicated.
  • Tim Drake: [sniffles] I didn't even say one thing. And then she asked me the whole thing, and I didn't even do it once.
  • Stephanie Brown: I'm like an elephant, okay? If I walk into a room, it's like, okay, she's in there.
  • Barbara Gordon: [hic] I'm gonna tell you that...that bitch over there [points at scowling Talia] I'm...I'm not gonna tell you that...I don't have to brag.
  • Cassandra Cain: [giggles] Baba booey. [snickers]
  • Dick Grayson: Turn this music down! [sings] Farts and boobs and love and stuff...macaroni salad...
  • Jason Todd: [yelling in rapid-fire Spanish]
  • Duke Thomas: [bursts out laughing and then cough-hacks]
  • Bruce Wayne: [dancing nonsensically to the beat]

Hey, I got sidewalk chalk that has more than just six pastels! And to celebrate… of course… …Someone seriously has to give me some requests (that I can do) because if not I will be drawing Sweeney Todd forever…

/// Beetlejuice<3 from the animated series (because he is bae) ///

I don’t know if any one else feels this way, but i love spooky and dark things, but I also LOVE colors and … . .i can’t find anyone who blends them the way I like to do (so if you know anyone hit me up XD ) while still being goth.

SO I GOT SO MANY REQUESTS TO DRAW TIMOTHY LAWRENCE (like.. everywhere. pm, message, twitter… -sweats-) he technically looks like jack but just.. timid.. 

i’m too tired to draw a comic and for some unknown reason i couldn’t draw rhys for the life of me.. so have some solemn looking Tim! that’s sort of boring but like.. -shrug- -bounces-

THANK YOU FOR THE LOVELY PEOPLE WHO CAME TO THE STREAM! you know who you are! -blows kisses at you guys- ;-;

Timothy Lawrence©Borderlands The Presequel
-still cannot spell pre-sequel-©me

ya’ll know the drill, comments stay on this like super glue

roguishredrobin: JayTim cuddling with a fluffy kitty

I was kinda anxious with this because…

I can’t draw cats. Actually, animals in general. (T▽T) 

Woooh~ I love the cowl-less red robin suit way too much. (⊙ヮ⊙) 

And oh wow it’s so unedited you can still see the eraser thingers. XD

Bubblebutt! Don’t worry, he’s friendly :)

don’t ask me how the little guy is floating though… idk what’s going on


Listen: that last drawing consumed me all week you need to understand How Much Work i put into that mess and I’m not 100% with it but u know what i reached the ‘ah just post it’ point

i literally drew six different drawings and put it together i finished six drawings and covered half of all of them with each other i’m so efficient

(i’m the least efficient)

*additional comments if you click through each drawing

Why can’t I hold all of these Marks???

Guess who stayed up too late doodling again!

That’s right! My evil alter ego; Smashley! Damn you, Smashley…

Butforreal,tho. I wanted to try out this new style I had in mind - fluid with mass, but still maintaining a decent anatomical form. Mark happens to have a lot of character variety, so I thought he would be a good person to…Draw. Of off.

(/70s Laugh Track)

Bonus: A cute little Tiny Box Tim to give you some love for your day.

Double Bonus: A candid doodle of me just moments after I finished these doodles!

Enjoy, friends.