(no subject)
Jul. 1st, 2010 10:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
munninTitle: If a man's hands show his trade, does it suit me then?
Author: Munnin
Rating: PG.
‘Verse: Band!AU
Characters: Tim, in all his many forms
Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit and no offence meant. Everyone is of the age of consent in their country and period of history
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
Bingo card:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
the_protagonist and alexiel_neesan’s Tim Drake, not a bingo card.
Summary: Tim Drake. Bassist.
Tim strummed Terry, not so much playing as letting his fingers wander over the instrument with the rhythm of his thoughts.
He’d been playing bass for nearly two years now and the pads of his fingers hardened perfectly to the strings. Two lines of calluses formed along the palm of one hand but he no-longer felt the stretch in his muscles as he wrapped his fingers around the neck of his guitar. It was an extension of him now, just as the bo staff had been in a previous life.
The scars were still there but they faded. Memories of bygone triumphs and failures seceded to fresh makings – the graze across his knuckles where he scraped his hand getting Jay’s drum kit out of the van, the tiny cut where the mike stand had nipped his skin as he folded it up, the shiny burn where a frayed cable had nearly killed him.
But there were other marks too, marks of choice – the Bat emblem tattooed over his heart; both memorial and insignia of belonging, the pattern of bruises over his shins where he and Damian sparred; everyday just a little faster and more evenly matched, the twin hickies in the hollows of his collarbone where Dick and Jason held him down and marked him as their own; making him writhe with pleasure.
The hole in his heart - losing Bruce, losing Gotham, losing Robin and all the parts of himself that belonged to that life, healed over slowly like scar tissue, forming a new surface on which to scribe his history. A new page in a heavily annotated book.
But as Tim Drake, bass player and song writer for the Robin, strummed his guitar in the afternoon sun, he mussed that this page at least bore his name...well one of them anyway.
Author: Munnin
Rating: PG.
‘Verse: Band!AU
Characters: Tim, in all his many forms
Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit and no offence meant. Everyone is of the age of consent in their country and period of history
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
Bingo card:
the_protagonist and alexiel_neesan’s Tim Drake, not a bingo card.Summary: Tim Drake. Bassist.
Tim strummed Terry, not so much playing as letting his fingers wander over the instrument with the rhythm of his thoughts.
He’d been playing bass for nearly two years now and the pads of his fingers hardened perfectly to the strings. Two lines of calluses formed along the palm of one hand but he no-longer felt the stretch in his muscles as he wrapped his fingers around the neck of his guitar. It was an extension of him now, just as the bo staff had been in a previous life.
The scars were still there but they faded. Memories of bygone triumphs and failures seceded to fresh makings – the graze across his knuckles where he scraped his hand getting Jay’s drum kit out of the van, the tiny cut where the mike stand had nipped his skin as he folded it up, the shiny burn where a frayed cable had nearly killed him.
But there were other marks too, marks of choice – the Bat emblem tattooed over his heart; both memorial and insignia of belonging, the pattern of bruises over his shins where he and Damian sparred; everyday just a little faster and more evenly matched, the twin hickies in the hollows of his collarbone where Dick and Jason held him down and marked him as their own; making him writhe with pleasure.
The hole in his heart - losing Bruce, losing Gotham, losing Robin and all the parts of himself that belonged to that life, healed over slowly like scar tissue, forming a new surface on which to scribe his history. A new page in a heavily annotated book.
But as Tim Drake, bass player and song writer for the Robin, strummed his guitar in the afternoon sun, he mussed that this page at least bore his name...well one of them anyway.
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(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-01 11:42 am (UTC)My pleasure, I'm glad you enjoyed it.