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#and *that’s* the fucking tragedy. dick does not get to keep any part of jason whatsoever

aviatrickss · 1 year

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*takes a deep breath and leans in so close that my lips touch the microphone*

the tragedy of dick and jason’s relationship as brothers is not that they hated each other and then jason died, or that they were super close and then jason died. the tragedy is that dick did not know enough about jason to know how to mourn him. were they brothers? were they rivals? dick sure doesn’t know, and jason doesn’t either! but it’s fine bc they have plenty of time to figure that shit out, they don’t need to know each other right now bc there will be time to know each other later.

except.

#sorry saw a long post about this and had Thoughts #dick doesn’t know jason!!! he doesn’t really try to know jason!#and jason doesn’t so much give a fuck about knowing dick!#but then jason is *gone* and they will never get the chance to be brothers/rivals/friends #and the only way dick has left to know him is to mourn him #but bruce guards that like he guards nothing else in his entire guarded life #dick can see the memorial and dick can know bruce failed #but dick does not get to mourn jason bc only *bruce* has that burden/comfort/responsibility #and so dick has nothing. no happy memories to comfort himself w no bad memories to make it easier that jay is gone #and *that’s* the fucking tragedy. dick does not get to keep any part of jason whatsoever #and so he makes sure to bond w tim and w damian #bc he knows not to count on a future that may never happen #he knows that the potential of a relationship is not worth a fraction of an actual one (good or bad)#jason doesn’t care enough about dick to include him in his plans for revenge #it’s not hatred or love or jealousy or even *friendship*#the tragedy of dick and jason’s relationship is that they never really have one #and no matter if jason comes back from the dead if dick makes up for it w tim and dami #they’re never going to get that time back

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addermoray · 1 year

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Tim Drake Shouldn’t Have His Own Hero Persona

This is just a compilation of various Tim Drake Musings I’ve had over the last few days. For anyone that knows me, you know that Tim’s been my favorite Robin, and favorite comic book character, for over two decades now. My first dog was technically named after him (he was named Robin, but he was inspired by Tim’s Robin specifically!):

Tim's defining characteristic, and his best stories stem from this, is the fact that he doesn't want this life, but he can't get out of it because he's the only one willing to do it out of a sense of obligation. He doesn't want to be Batman, but when Dick doesn't want it, Jason can't handle it, and Damian's ego fucks it up, he has to pick the mantle back up. And in the present he has to be ready because the shoe can drop at any time. His literal nightmare future self in Young Justice was becoming Batman. The dramatic irony is that he's the best suited for it and every future keeps telling him it's inevitable.

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And he hates it. He doesn't want to do this shit. He didn't want to be Robin in the first place, he did it because someone had to. And all this life has brought him is pain. He doesn't have a tragic backstory. Being a hero is what has brought him tragedy, time and again.

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Saying that, Tim shouldn't become the Grey Ghost. He should have never been Red Robin past the maxi series it took to find Bruce. And he should definitely not be "Drake." Tim Drake shouldn't have a superhero persona that isn't Robin or an incredibly unhappy, reluctant Batman. The character wasn't designed for that, for reasons I mentioned above. Tim's full story arc should be finally finding a point in time where he feels like his work is done, putting down the Robin mantle, and leading a normal life with the occasional consulting work for his friends and family. The sporadic return to the costume when something huge happens and all hands are needed on deck. But otherwise just being Tim Drake. Until Bruce dies or is put out of commission, and no one steps up to take on the mantle, except Damian who was never cut out for the job in the first place. He can be a hero, but he can't be Batman. So Tim steps up and does it. He hates it, but he does it. It destroys his life and relationships, but he does it. Because someone has to. And because that's who Tim is and what he does.

And in the end, when a 50+ year old Bruce comes back from whatever put him out of the role for a decade or so, when they have that overdue heart to heart that finally convinces Tim that he doesn’t have to do this, he should never have been made to feel like he had to do this, when he can at last rest...

Conner and Steph are there for him, even after everything that’s passed between them. Because that, also, is a crucial part of who Tim is. He builds unbreakable friendships that can weather whatever storm, no matter how long it lasts.

#tim drake #robin #batman #DC comics

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blinkys · 2 years

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Batman's cowl

I cannot sleep so it is time for y'all to suffer through my rant again (the again are for those who suffered them, either on whatsapp or discord).

For people who unluckily met me, you know I deeply believe that Batman should rot when someone'll buy common sense for Bruce and make him RETIRE. He's old. I know his joints crack the second he tries to sit up from a chair.

Anyway.

Dick would hate to take over. Minus 99 on 100, would not try again. He had his taste of the cowl and it was bitter. And he was never designed for it; Robin was always meant to be what Batman cannot be.

He was the light in the darkness, the laughter despite Gotham's protector's violence. I do not mean that there isn't something lurking in Dick's eyes- he's made of anger, of strong emotions, after all. But he represents hope in such a blatant, painful way that shoving him into Batman's black armor would be just like snuffing a candlelight.

Nightwing is more than what Bruce could ever imagine, and I will fight anyone who does not see his importance in the DCU. I will die on this hill, you cannot change my mind.

I had a rant on Jason, but there are new points I want to target. I think he has the ambiguous luck of being both in the middle of things, and then got away far enough that he could see the horrifying cycle of Gotham, feeding on Batman's and his rogues' neverending battle and understanding what it means. He is right that, in killing those villains, he is saving far more innocents than Batman ever will. It is true that, if he were to take the cowl, we could see improvements in Gotham. He would be breaking the cycle.

But would he be doing it as Batman, or as the Red Hood with new silly little bat ears? After you take away Batman's reason of being (Bruce's trauma, duty to the name Wayne and need to do, to be, good), after you take away his ethics ("Batman does not kill"), what is left? An empty husk, with a tarnished history.

Jason rose up from what was made of him. From the street rat, from Robin's replacement, from the Joker's victim. He will not be restrained again to the whims and definitions of others.

Tim... is the hardest for me. Because he would make a good Batman. An efficient one. And that's where the danger lies. It has been shown, again and again, that Tim's drawn a line in the sand. And while he keeps strictly to it, sand shifts, as time goes by.

Tim's whole thing is being what is needed, at that time. He became Robin, part admiration, but mostly because "Batman needs a Robin". He losts Robin, but still did what he deemed as necessary, when Bruce was lost to time - even going as far as starting an alliance with Ra's fucking al Ghul. Tim is driven by need. And confronted unceasingly by Gotham's merry-go-round of weirdoes, it wouldn't be too strange if he felt that an accident or two was needed.

Tim, more than anyone in his family, requires a support structure. Not one like Batman who, despite it all, is still quite a solitary figure, but a whole Team like the Titans- if only for the well-being of his enemies, if not his own. Tim needs people who push him to be the best he could be, people who need him to be their moral compass.

Damian, at the contrary of Tim, is one of the easiest one for me. He may had been raised with the idea of being Heir to the Bat, but he was always fairly independent, in ways his brothers weren't when they first meet Bruce; Dick needed support after his tragedy, Jason wanted a father who would treat him as a desired son, Tim was seeking anyone who could give him any positive form of attention.

Damian needed stability. And it sure wasn't Bruce who gave him that; it was Dick. So he never developped those strong feelings and bonds (he still has a strong relationship with his father, don't get me wrong) that anchored his brothers to Bruce's shore. Even as a Robin, the only thing tying him up with his predecessors is the weight of the mantle.

He has learnt that being the result of his bloodline does not mean that he was to be restrained by it. I like to think of Damian's story as one of learning; he's not Ra's al Ghul's heir, he is not Batman's heir. He is Damian al Ghul Wayne and he'll grown up to be something great all on his own.

And while his adventure still has a long way to go, I deeply believe that, at the end of it, he'd rather seek an identity for himself rather than take on his Father's.

Now, Cassandra. Either be it ethics, morals or just narrative interest, she'd be a great Batman. Just like Bruce, her inability to kill comes from trauma; from her taking life for the first time and swearing she'd never do that again. Her line is drawn in blood, and that means that she'll keep to it much more stubbornly.

At this point, the only reason why I don't think she should take over Batman is that I just believe all legacy heroes deserve more than taking over their mentor unfinished business. I' sorry I'm totally being blinded by this image of a perfect Cassandra who will succeed in everything she does.

I don't even need to talk about Signal. He's already so different from that whole Batman and Robin thing, don't lower him like That.

Specials mentions for Spoiler, who would shout "Fuck Batman!" with middle fingers raised. She had been a replacement Robin once, she's not looking to repeat the experience and she has learnt that she's much better than what Bruce deserves.

#batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassadra cain #stephanie brown #batfam #the cowl of Batman is the physical representation of Gotham's curse and it needs to be buried #let the man retire #bruce wayne had been batman for longer that my dad was alive #it's time we FINALLY get to a new generation #don't get me wrong #i love bruce #he's my traumatized little meow meow #but if he tries to give the cowl to any of his kids I will beat him up with his mother's pearl necklace

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Dick has said it out loud explicitly, to Damian, that the mantle of Robin was his to pass on. Why do people still feel entitled to talk over him?

IMO? For the exact same reasons that people harp on so much about it being a retcon that Robin was Dick’s mother’s nickname for him and that originally he based the name on Robin Hood. To be perfectly honest that doesn’t make a damn bit of difference in regards to the fact that either way the point is still that Dick created Robin and it wouldn’t exist without him.....but the constant attempts to minimize its emotional significance to Dick and any kind of special attachment to it that he has and that the others can’t claim to share....

IMO these are just attempts to distance Dick from the mantle and make him seem less relevant or important to its very existence....freeing up people to focus on the importance of Robin as a symbol and a mantle to everyone else but without having to attribute any special credit or significance or respect to Dick as the originator of the mantle and the character that the other Robins are literally the legacy characters of.

It’s pretty annoying and very shortsighted IMO as actually, emphasizing the connection Robin has to Dick’s first family just enhances the weight and poignancy of Dick ultimately giving each of the other Robins his blessing when he didn’t have to and thus literally choosing them as his new family even without having to rely solely on a connection to each other via Bruce.

Of course people don’t seem to really want to do that either....given how rarely Dick’s blessing even gets acknowledged amid all the angst about who replaced who and who was fired and who wasn’t. It’s kinda ironic...I know so many fans HATE the version where Bruce fires Dick and so whatever they can not to acknowledge it and dismiss it as a retcon....and the ironic thing is? I get it. I totally see why it’s not something they want to run with and to be quite honest I can take it or leave it myself. I like exploring versions of events where Dick was fired, I like exploring ones where he wasn’t. Both have room for digging and delving imo.

My only beef with people who are soooo loud and quick to always dismiss the firing as just a retcon that doesn’t count.....is that in the pre Crisis version of events where Dick voluntarily gave up Robin and decided it was time to move onto a new identity....he gave Robin to Jason himself. The significance of that version of events isn’t JUST that it was Dick’s own choice to move to a new identity and that there was no conflict between him and Bruce about it...it was equally of significance that the Robin mantle was still viewed as inherently his, made by him, and his and his alone to pass on to a successor.

There is no version where Dick gave it up voluntarily but had no role in choosing Jason. The very premise of that mix and match honestly makes no sense because why make such a fuss about Bruce not having overstepped and fired Dick when it was never his place to say what he could claim as his identity or mantle on his OWN (fire him as his partner, sure that was always Bruce’s right, but tell Dick he couldn’t be the hero persona he created for himself? Fuck off Bruce LOL).

But my point is that mix and match makes no real sense because why preserve Bruce’s character from stepping between Dick and the mantle he created to honor his first parents....only to then turn right around and have Bruce still treat it as a Wayne family hand me down that Dick had outgrown when it was only EVER a Grayson family hand me down whose only connection to the Wayne family was through Dick being a member of both families and a bridge connecting them?

Whether Bruce fires Dick as Robin and gives it to Jason or JUST gives it to Jason without Dick making that choice....the one isn’t any better than the other because in both cases the actual offense is still the same: it was never Bruce’s to do ANYTHING with other than what Dick wanted done with it. Take on a new partner? Sure. But give him the mantle made of Dick’s work, Dick’s past, Dick’s every action as Robin? Nope.

So really the mix and match only serves one real purpose, for anyone who is intent on dismissing the firing as just a retcon but sees no need to uphold Dick choosing to give Robin to Jason instead of Bruce doing that...when Bruce doing that is literally part of the exact same retcon they’re so intent on discarding!

The only real purpose that mix and match serves is to keep Bruce centered in the Robin succession with his choice to give it to Jason being the basis of Jason associating Robin with Bruce. It keeps Bruce as the person Jason thinks of and feels connected to every time he thinks of why he’s Robin at all....because Bruce is the one who gave him the symbol that was already well known and full of meaning when Jason stepped into those shoes.

And then of course at the same time the mix and match also ‘lessens’ Bruce’s offense to Dick in taking Robin against his wishes WHILE also suggesting that Dick has less basis of feeling resentful of Bruce passing it on to someone else without his say so because it’s not like he was using it anymore right? And that was his own choice right?

But so what if it was? That doesn’t make it any less his creation and his legacy. It doesn’t make it any less a Grayson family connection and somehow more a Bruce Wayne family connection.

And that’s my beef. That’s the big irony of how flat out counter intuitive the mix and match retcon thing is and always has been. It only accomplishes half its objective....keeps the later Robins more connected to Bruce via it than they are to Dick via it....because it ultimately still runs through Bruce. But it fails to accomplish its secondary objective simply because refusing to acknowledge that Robin is intrinsically tied to Dick Grayson and not Bruce Wayne like....doesn’t actually make it any less true.

And that’s why imo the question should never have been “does your fic go with the version where Dick gives up Robin or the retcon where Bruce fires Dick” ...no, the right question in my mind should have always been “does your fic go with the version where Dick gives Robin to Jason or the retcon where Bruce gives it to Jason.”

And here’s the sticking point:

People always point to Bruce and Dick’s initial connection as the basis of their entire Dynamic Duo partnership. They understood each otrher via their parallel experiences losing their parents to murder. Bruce saw himself in a young Dick Grayson and he wanted to help Dick figure out a way forward to life after his parents’ death by drawing upon his own experiences.

But at the same time, they aren’t the same. Even with Bruce guiding Dick forward through his trauma and grief by following a map made of his own prior experiences, the end result was not the same for both....but it still used some of the same road marks on their respective journeys.

And this is why the Dynamic Duo were always emphasized as partners, as complementing each other, balancing each other....things they could only do because they were not the same and even using similar coping mechanisms to deal with their PARALLEL tragedies....produced entirely different results.

Both used their tragedies, their traumas, their PAIN to fuel their pursuit of justice and desire to help protect people. Both built new personas for themselves to use in their shared missions here....personas which embodied what they wanted to accomplish in these guises while at the same time reminding them why they were doing this.

But the personas they created ended up looking very different despite being born of similar crucibles...because they prioritized different things....and because they were honoring different people.

No matter how much Bruce and Dick have in common due to circumstances they are very different people who are both products of the families and places they come from....and thus even when using similar PROCESSES to build something out of their parallel tragedies, what emerged from the fires once they were done creating from their traumas.....don’t look the same. Aren’t interchangeable.

And neither are their creators.

Bottom line, it in my opinion flat out does not work to attribute more connection to Robin and the succession of that mantle to Bruce than Dick.....because Bruce would never, COULD never create that specific mantle out of his grief and pain any more than Dick ever would or could have created Batman out of his. Because they are too different. They needed different things out of their journeys forward, they were commemorating having had different journeys behind them, they were walking a shared path side by side but you can’t switch the clothes they made to wear going forward anymore than you can switch their footprints beneath their feet....they don’t fit into what the other made because it wasn’t made BY them and it wasn’t made FOR them.

So riddle me this, Batfandom: how does it make sense to focus on their parallel tragedies and how they moved forward from those in similar ways and on a shared trajectory, emphasizing how this is the entire basis of the Batman and Robin partnership from its very inception.....

Only to then view the role Bruce’s grief, his loss, his pain played in birthing the Batman mantle as something sacrosanct, undeniable....these things go hand in hand, there’s no separating them even when others end up wearing the Batman mantle as well, even through multiple generations....

But at the EXACT SAME TIME....treating Dick’s grief, HIS loss, HIS pain and the role all THAT played in birthing the Robin mantle....as something that barely comes up as a footnote the second you put the costume on anyone other than Dick? Something the others never even feel inclined to THINK about when reflecting on the mantle they’re wearing and where it came from and why it exists?

Why is the one rated as so less significant than the other....if the entire point of Batman and Robin is that both heroes were born from the ashes of tragedies so similar they understood each other in ways most other mentors and sidekicks never came close to?

How’s that work exactly?

Look, you’ll never catch me arguing that Bruce isn’t and shouldn’t be central to the Batman mantle, mythos, succession, etc. And I loved Dick as Batman too. But it ultimately should always come back to Bruce no matter how many people add to it in their own ways. Because it’s not just about what Bruce made.....it’s why he made it that matters too. The act of creating Batman is as important to the story of Batman as the created Batman.

And those very same reasons are precisely why Bruce shouldn’t be regarded as central to the ROBIN mantle, succession, etc.

To dismiss the Graysons as not being definitive to the greater Robin mythos is to say Thomas and Martha Wayne bear no special significance to the Batman mythos.

I love that being Robin connects these siblings and ties them all together as part of the same family. I love it being a shared family tradition that encompasses all of them and marks this family of choice as having been specifically chosen by not just it’s patriarch but each other.

But it’s not Bruce’s family tradition and it’s not a Wayne or even a Batman hand me down.

Because it doesn’t even come from Bruce’s family.

It comes from Dick’s. He brought it with him. It’s what connects him to what came before life with Bruce because as everyone knows but so many people often forget to give MEANING....

Dick Grayson, for as much as he is Batman’s son and is undeniably Bruce’s family, had a life of his own before he ever met Bruce.

He didn’t begin with Bruce Wayne. He didn’t come from Bruce Wayne.

And neither did Robin.

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

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chin fucking up, amigo.

Titans 3.02

... eh?

SPOILERS ahead.

1. you know that music video for billie jean where michael jackson would dance along the pavement and the tiles would light up under his feet in different colours? yeah? me too.

titans hasn’t met a table top or a support arch that it doesn’t want to light up in a headache-inducing blue like the world’s most boring nightlight. i mean, i’m not an expert on lighting or cinematography or just... colour by any means, and the quality of the video i’m watching is poor given that i can’t access hbo max, but all the orange and teal and neon is making it very difficult to really differentiate between say, the batcave and the gotham police department and hell, the titans tower. i feel like there’s oftentimes a gap between idea and execution with titans, with gotham being this almost otherwordly hellscape with an aesthetic pulled from a gothic horror novel, but the colours and design just... leave it flat and dark and dull.

1.5. like what really frustrates me is that titans has a delightful mix of tones--the fights often remind me of schumacher-era batman camp, with the contrived quips and the start-stop rhythm and krypto just sallying in and ending the fight with a fucking SuperBark (tm) but in the same episode you have red hood just casually pulling out severed heads out of a duffle bag and desperate people blackmailed into killing themselves out of drug overdoses. I MEAN. it’s wonderful! but it looks all the same. it sounds Absolutely Bonkers on paper but on screen both Quip and Murder happen in the same washed-out blue and i wanted to be excited about the batcave, dammit!

2. things re: red hood have happened at such a breakneck speed that it feels like there’s so much that’s happened off-screen that we’re not privy to. a real proper mystery!

things that are intriguing about the red hood arc so far:

a) what was that chemical he huffed just before going to fight the joker? is it a regular old performance/adrenaline booster or is it something more lazarus-juice adjacent? if it’s the latter, i can’t imagine he got that much information from a lone chemistry textbook. and where is he getting the resources to set up his little chemistry lab? is somebody else orchestrating things behind the scenes?

b) the red hood persona, costume and mask, plus the elaborate plan he’s putting in place to both string along gotham’s rogues and enact his revenge against the titans seems too... fully-formed and elaborate to have been concocted in just a few days. how long do you think jason’s been planning this? just... stewing in resentment and building rage, dismissed and passed around and underestimated and realising that the power he thought he would get by being robin is no power, no protection at all, but something that’s left him even more vulnerable than before?

c) do we think that the scarecrow is at least partly behind this transformation? because yes, it was batman that set up this whole hannibal lecter-esque situation with him, and he would be irresponsible enough to have jason-as-robin go talk to him regularly regarding “~profiling~” criminals. it’s not too far of a leap to assume that scarecrow could’ve been manipulating jason at a very vulnerable time, and that he could’ve passed along some of his chemistry know-how, too.

d) ... or fuck, i wouldn’t put it past titans to introduce ra’s al ghul in a fucking ten second aside

e) anyway, the thing that won’t leave me alone is jason seeking out the joker not necessarily to fight him, but to orchestrate his own death. the whole thing has to have been part of a bigger plan. he broke batman with it, after all. and he’s starting to break the titans, too.

f) i love it! i mean, it does re-tread some of the storybeats we had with deathstroke last season (turning the titans against each other as revenge, etc) but it’s... tighter, this time, and at least for now seems better-executed. and as a red hood story it’s different enough to be really interesting, and i appreciate the ways in which its reframed the revenge story to focus on the titans rather than just the batman. like fuck everything up, i say! turn it on its head! slash the innards out of that sacred cow and strew it like garlands in the path of the Story You Want To Tell!

(and yes i am fully aware that by the time i post this review, there will be a whole lot more information out but if i come across like a fool then goddammit i will be a fool!)

2. i love how every season of titans starts off with, ‘oh dick, you thought you were settling into a role and a life and a pattern of relationships? well fuck you, here’s a terrible and traumatic thing, tons more responsibility, and circumstances that will lead you to uproot your entire life and move somewhere else.’ and dick’s just like, ‘well, ok. fuck you, but all right’.

can you imagine? the man was just settling into leading a team in sf and smiling for the first time in years, and now he has to deal with jason’s death, bruce experiencing a full fledged breakdown, coming back to a city that represents more bad memories than good, red hood, and a frightening new case that seems to be targeting him and his team. it’s a testament to dick’s growth that he’s not reacting to this stress like he did last year, shutting everybody out, making irrational decisions and experiencing sharp, short bursts of anger. (not to mention a full fledged psychotic episode.)

2.5. but i’ve also talked about dick performing a fair amount of unwarranted emotional labour for his team(s) in that he just lets them take out their frustrations on him and... does nothing. be it his team exploding at him for jericho (both in flashback and present-day) or donna and hank needling him for handling deathstroke poorly or barbara berating him for not handling the bank situation as well as she thought batman would though just the previous episode she had talked about how fucked up it was that bruce just expected dick to step up and replace him in gotham without any real notice. i mean it’s all perfectly understandable and sympathetic from their end--and i’m not trying to bash them here!--but hank, my man, the same chin you’re asking your amigo to keep up is the one that you punched last year and never apologised for. just sayin’.

2.75. @superohclair did a wonderful breakdown of what the ‘fear’ contract could imply here and there’s not too much i could add to that. it’s just really interesting that fear ended up being such a defining feature of their lives, albeit it’s the fear of seeming less than invincible in the face of bigger, more tangible fears. am i making sense? dick feared loss, and abandonment, and the more existential concept of turning into something that he didn’t want to. bruce so feared being alone that he’s scouting kids to replace robin within days of jason dying.

it also goes some way in explaining the tense sort of... restraint that bruce and dick show in the wake of loss and tragedy, like anything less than complete control of your emotions can lead to tragedy. it’s conditioning that dick couldn’t shake off when he was at his lowest in detroit, hating his legacy but unable to let it go either.

2.775. but i definitely appreciate the softness that dick displays with his team now, checking on them after a mission-gone-bad, welcoming back old members with no caveats or resentments (and kory’s delight in seeing hank back! hank and dick hanging out together and hank trying to prop dick up!), and appreciating their teamwork in solving cases. that’s always been the essence of dick as a person, and the beating heart of this show: flawed and traumatised people coming together to a place that will always be open to them, where they can be their worst and be supported still, allowed to make mistakes and grow from them. that’s family.

2.8. coming back to bruce for just a sec, it’s interesting how that gotham rogue was so certain when he said that ‘batman doesn’t kill’ but it’s not a rule that either jason or dick put much store by when they were robins. the ‘no-killing’ rule clearly didn’t mitigate dick’s fears about turning into batman and jason’s never been seeing giving two shits about it. it seems to me of a piece with bruce’s distant, second-hand sort of parenting that we see in dick’s flashbacks from s1 where the fear was never about personally disappointing batman, but taking lessons from him on finding a place in gotham’s hellish ecosystem and surviving.

3. kory having waking flashbacks! i don’t buy the bullshit parasomnia episode explanation from fake!HPG (because c’mon, justin has to be some sort of tamaranean ruse) because for one, you have to be actually asleep for that diagnosis.

(and here i was, hoping against hope that HPG would actually end up as the team’s therapist)

curiouser and curiouser! i wonder if these flashbacks are from the time between kory landing on earth and the beginning of season 1, when she was completely amnesiac? it’d be cool if the show was considering repercussions from that time, and if kory hasn’t gained all her memories back.

4. i just love the vibes between gar and conner and kory. gar Having Things To Do is only one part of my wishlist for him, however: other parts include having an actual story arc, and actually bonding with members who are not conner and kory. (dick! dick! hank! dick!)

anyway. time to move on to watching ep3 and seeing this family bond and nothing terrible and tragic happening at all, nope, nosiree.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #koriand'r #garfield logan #bruce wayne #his name is justin.#a byronic cupcake #a tragic jalebi #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

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Feels More Like a Memory

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Ric gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.”

“Wally. With a W.”

“That’s a tragedy.”

“And Ric isn’t?”

It’s not easy being a ghost. Ric isn’t dead. He has flesh, breath, motion, all signs of life. But Him? The person he apparently used to be but who might as well be a stranger told in someone else’s story? That person is dead, and Ric can’t help but feel like a murderer for pushing him out. He isn’t Dick Grayson. Not anymore. Ric slides into a bar stool, flagging down the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.” This place isn’t his favorite haunt in Blüdhaven, but they do serve good brews despite the lack of customers and general grossness. And, frankly, he’s not in the mood for company tonight. He’s been fielding calls all day from those people, the ones who knew him Before. The ones who foolishly call every few days as if expecting the ghost to answer in Ric’s place. Bruce. Barbara. Damian. Even some names that Ric doesn’t recognize but couldn’t care less about if he did. A Donna Troy. Jason Todd, even though Dick saw in some old files that he’s supposed to be long dead. Some kid named Tim. Ric doesn’t even pick up anymore when the calls come. It’s too exhausting playing defense, trying to remind these poor idiots that the Dick they knew is dead. Ric can’t keep pretending to have any part of himself that cares about these strangers, that keeps him straddling the line between past and future, or it will tear him in half. He’s had enough of the visits from “old friends” and family members he wouldn’t recognize from a Christmas card.

It’s a weeknight, so the bar is empty but for a few alcoholics and some guys playing pool in the back. Ric might even join them later, hustle a few rounds. The door to the bar opens, a dulled bell sounding to announce the newcomer. Ric doesn’t bother looking up. It’s not like he’ll recognize the new face—or any face, for that matter. The bartender brings over his beer. Ric thanks her and takes a sip. The stool next to him creaks. “I’ll have a Coke with three maraschino cherries, please. Thanks.” It’s a deep voice with a bit of a midwestern twang. From Missouri, maybe? The “please” is a clear indicator that he’s not from around here, nor does he go to bars a lot. Not this kind, anyway. Ric has tried and failed to turn that part off, the part that picks apart every detail in the world into quantifiable data. His memories may be gone, but whatever that crazy bat guy trained into him has stayed in his head as muscle memory. Ric couldn’t escape it if he tried. He drinks his beer, side-eyeing the guy. “Never met anyone who goes to a bar for a soda.” The guy doesn’t...he doesn’t flinch, exactly. But there’s the slightest of shivers that runs through his frame as if hearing Ric’s voice does something to him, even though he’s the one who sat next to Ric in the first place despite the plenty of empty stools around them. Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. Whatever this guy is, he recovers quickly. “You can’t exactly get a Coke with three cherries from your neighborhood grocer.” “You can if you make it at home.” The guy’s mouth quirks. “Then I’m here for the wonderful atmosphere.” Now that Dick is facing him, he can see that the guy has bright red hair that curls in front of his forehead, wind-blown like he spends his life riding on top of a bullet train. His eyes are green and practically every inch of visible skin is sprinkled with freckles. “If you’re looking for atmosphere, you’re sure as hell not going to find it here,” Ric says. “This place is the pits.” “Then how come you’re here?” Ric shrugs. “For the moldy buffalo wings and terrible service, of course.” The guy laughs and, for whatever reason, Ric gets the impression that it’s the first real laugh he’s had in a long time. The bartender serves up his soda, cherries and all. “I’ve got to be honest, Blüdhaven is even worse than I remember it. Ever since that bat guy disappeared, it’s like all I hear about Blüd now is how much the crime has escalated.” “Nightwing,” Ric corrects before he can stop himself. “His name was Nightwing.” “Right, Nightwing. What do you think happened to him?” He got shot in the head. Not that Ric can tell that to a complete stranger. Then again, he’s been meeting far too many “complete strangers” lately who turn out to be anything but. They try to worm their way into Ric’s life as if they know him, as if they have some kind of a claim on him. “Have we met before?” he asks. He tries to do it casually to cushion the blow of completely changing the subject, but it’s hard to remember what casual even is anymore. “You seem...familiar.” The guy plasters on a smile. “Just have one of those faces, I guess.” “Says every person who’s ever pretended not to know someone.” That gets another laugh. Maybe he’s just a happy guy? Definitely not from around here, then. “I’m from Central City, actually. Just here for the weekend. I was trying to track down an old friend.” “And did you find him?” The guy’s eyes dim, but he keeps up some of the smile, like he’s mourning a memory. “Nope. He skipped town pretty recently and has been missing since.” “Sorry to hear that.” The guy drinks his soda. “How about you? What keeps you in a place like Blüdhaven?” “Believe it or not, this is the only place I’ve been in so far that’s felt like home.” He’s already buzzing from the beer combined with the whiskey this morning and the vape he bummed off a couple guys earlier. Might as well go all in. “I got shot in the head a while ago and since then, I’ve been a clean slate.” He points to the scar on his scalp, but he doesn’t have to. A goddamn aircraft could see that thing from orbit. “It’s hard to figure out ‘home’ again when every place you go is filled with too many people who know and care about you, you know?” “You and I have very different definitions of ‘home’ then. The way I see it, home is wherever the people who love you are.” “You’d be surprised. It’s more like leeches, really. Or a landlord begging for rent even after you’ve moved out. It’s fucking exhausting.” He gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.” “Wally. With a W.” “That’s a tragedy.” “And Ric isn’t?” That makes Ric laugh. The weird part is that, at the heart of whatever this is, there’s something natural about laughing with this random person. Wally. It feels familiar, like this is someone important, as insane as that sounds. He blames it on the alcohol, but he could almost convince himself that this Wally guy is something vital he’s been missing. But Ric has seen the files Batman showed him while he was futilely trying to jog Ric’s memory. There was nothing about anyone named Wally in there, so he’s in the clear. “So,” Wally says, “amnesia, huh? And I thought I had problems.” “You have no idea. Weirdly enough, the amnesia part isn’t even the worst of it. I can deal with having no memories. The real problem is everyone else’s memories trying to force their way into mine. Everybody remembers me as somebody else, but they can’t understand that the man they knew is long gone. It’s pathetic.” “Can you blame them? If someone I loved forgot who he was, I’d want to bring him back too.” “Then you’ve never had to deal with lost memories before. Everyone talks about how amnesia can be a blessing in disguise, giving you a reset on life. But it’s more like being dropped in the middle of a sports game where you don’t know the rules or who your teammates are, and everyone’s waiting for you to just get with the program and kick the ball somewhere.” Wally bites a cherry off its stem. “What I wouldn’t give for that.” At Ric’s questioning look, he says, “I have two kids. Twins, Jai and Irey. They’re...they were incredible. They were the lights of my life. Then there was...something happened. I lost them both, and now all I have left of them are memories. But I swear to god, sometimes it feels like having the memories hurts a million times worse than losing them in the first place.” Well, shit. By the looks of him, Wally can’t be more than twenty-four, twenty-six years old. Losing two kids so young must be hell on earth. That Damian kid said stuff about how Dick was like a second father figure to him and how when Damian was dead, the greatest relief after coming back was that Dick wouldn’t have to mourn him anymore. But Ric doesn’t remember any of that. If he ever did lose Damian like he said, it means nothing to Ric now. Dick may have lost a child, but Ric didn’t. Wally swallows thickly, drinks his soda until his throat clears. “So trust me, I get wanting to forget. But if you want my advice, I say hold on to your family for as long as you can, even if you don’t want to. You never know how much time you’ll have with them.” Ric honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. “I’m...I’m sorry, man.” Wally clears his throat, forces a smile, but each one is dimmer than the last. “It’s fine. But you see why I don’t drink.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Ric gets the message: Because if I did start drinking, I would never stop. “I can’t even imagine losing someone like that,” Ric says, sipping his fresh glass of beer. “I know my parents are dead, but my memories are so messed up that I don’t remember much of it. And even though I can’t remember anything after that day, it still feels like it happened twenty years ago. I’ve never had to grieve anyone but myself.” “It helps to have people around you, for one thing. That friend I mentioned, the one who skipped town? We used to have a system that whenever one of us was having a bad day, we’d go down to that gay bar a few blocks from here and stay there until we forgot what we were upset about.” After a second, he asks, “You ever been there?” Ric resists the urge to grimace. “I’m straight, actually. That kind of stuff...it’s not really my thing.” Wally blinks at him. “You’re kidding.” “Excuse me?” “Nothing. That’s just...surprising.” “Okay?” This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s accused Ric of being queer. Just because he likes mesh shirts and the occasional crop top doesn’t mean he’s gay, okay? He’s as straight as an arrow. “No, that’s not—I mean...I don’t know what I mean.” Wally shakes his head. “It’s easy to forget that not everyone lives the same life you do, I guess.” Ric clinks his glass with Wally’s. “Cheers to that.” Ric can’t explain what about this conversation makes him feel more comfortable than he has in weeks. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the human interaction with someone who isn’t another bar-hopping asshole or part of his old “family” trying to bring him back to a home that isn’t his. Ric has spent so long driving strangers to their destinations in his taxi, sleeping under a new roof every night, gambling his money away and drinking himself into oblivion as long as he can afford it. But here, with Wally, he feels settled. His head clears, and it’s such a foreign sensation that he stops for a moment just to let himself soak in it. “How long are you staying in Blüd, Walls?” He doesn’t mean to say the nickname, it just slips out of him like a bar of soap between slick hands. Wally doesn’t seem to mind. He even smiles, and Ric can’t help but wonder if the friend he was talking about used to call him that. “This is my last night, actually. I’m going to this mental health facility in Nebraska for a while to recharge. I just wanted to see my friend one last time before I left.” “I’m sorry you couldn’t find him.” “Yeah. Me too.” Wally downs the rest of his drink and stands, tossing a few bills on the counter. “I should probably head out. It was nice talking to you, Ric.” Ric shakes his hand again. “You too. Track me down if you ever find yourself in Blüd again. It’ll be nice seeing a familiar face for once.” “You got it.” Wally turns to go but stops at the door, one hand mid-twist on the knob. He looks back at Ric. “Don’t forget me again, okay?” He’s gone before Ric can answer, the door closing behind him. Ric was lying before, when he talked about the worst part of being an amnesiac. The worst part isn’t the missing twenty years, or the annoying family members, or the fact that he can name all fifty states but can’t remember whether he likes mustard or not. It isn’t any of those things. The worst part is knowing about the past that waits for him to sink back into it even though he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. It’s struggling with the fact that he has a whole family he doesn’t recognize but who loves him more than he’s ever seen a person be loved before. It’s seeing that love, witnessing the lengths they go to just to have their Dick back, but not being able to feel any of it because that isn’t his life. It’s not Ric’s love to have, and it never will be. Dick Grayson may be dead, but the love he earned is eternal. And that, right there? That’s what hurts the most.

#whumptober 2020 #ric grayson #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #robin #wally west #kid flash #the flash #birdflash #titans #teen titans #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic #no.15 #memory loss

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

For the Flame Always So Loved the Stars - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Kara Kent, Clark Kent, Lois Lane Pairing: jondami Summary: Nothing stays the same forever. But fairytales always end the same way. A/N: This is just a whole fucking lot of self-indulgent garbage. Takes place over 5 years, Damian is 18-23, and Jon is 15-20. The last section is just their superhero way of saying ‘I love you and always will.’ but like. Subtly. I wrote this for myself, but I’m pleased with how it came out, so I hope you like it too. Sorry not sorry for literally the first line of this fic haha. The legend was googled so I took the most similar parts in all the wikis I read. I ignored the part where they all said ‘their story always ends in tragedy and betrayal’ but I’m going for happy endings dammit.

~~

Dick Grayson died when Damian was eighteen.

He wasn’t there. No one from the family was. It was a simple carjacking gone wrong. A single bullet, straight to the chest, from a scared kid who thought completing the initiation to the local gang was his only option to survive in this life.

It was almost funny. A single bullet. No poison, no torture. No evil mastermind, or world-ending apocalypse. No battles against armies, or lives and loves at stake. Not anything they dealt with daily.

Just an old car with a purse left on the passenger seat that someone saw. Just a weak spot in aged armour that was going to be replaced in the next year or so.

Just a single bullet.

Damian doesn’t remember much from after he was told, after he came home from class and found his siblings and Stephanie waiting for him in the parlor. He remembered knowing it must have been bad; Tim’s face was blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Stephanie was the one who told him. Cassandra held his hand. But that was about it. That was all his mind supplied.

That, and the fact that his first thought after being told was: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Not fair because Dick was the best of them, in every way. Because he was funny, smart, kind, and every single thing a hero should be. A good person.

Not fair because Damian only got eight years with him, his closest confidante, one of his only friends. Because Damian decided at age ten that a world without Dick Grayson was not one he wanted to live in, and yet here he was, in the worst reality he could think of.

He doesn’t remember much from after he was told. He remembers Stephanie saying: “Dick died, Damian.” He remembers thinking: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Then...he remembers a pain in his knees. Remembers blinking and finding himself staring at the floor, which was much closer than it should have been. He remembers his sister kneeling in front of him, allowing him to press his forehead into her shoulder. Remembers Jason next to him, rubbing his back, asking if they should get him water, or take him upstairs.

He remembers hearing Tim sob, and that might be the most memorable thing of the moment, because his body registered that that’s what he wanted to do too, he wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t, because you don’t cry over things that weren’t real. And that’s obviously why he collapsed, why he couldn’t form words to come out of his mouth, why his mind was refusing to remember this moment.

Because it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

~~

Jon was antsy. Nervous.

Alfred had called days ago to inform him and his parents what had happened. And Jon had already been halfway out the door when the butler interjected to request that none of them visit, not right now. The Waynes and their closest companions were grieving, and needed to be alone.

And he hated that – he hated being away from Damian on a good day, but now, when Damian was going to need him? It was pure agony.

So two weeks later, when Clark gave him the okay, he took off to Gotham faster than he ever had before, and bypassed every bit of security measures that Bruce asked him to complete upon arriving.

He found Damian in the cemetery, and he had a feeling it was a place Damian didn’t often leave anymore.

Jon said nothing as he approached. Just plopped next to Damian and silently wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. Damian didn’t say anything either, but he leaned gratefully into the embrace, reaching up to cling to Jon’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry.” Jon whispered, leaning back. He didn’t leave Damian’s personal space, though. Kept their shoulders touching, knees keeping each other warm. “I…I don’t know what else to say. To think.”

“Me neither.” Damian murmured. His voice sounded dry, and Jon wondered when he last drank anything, or ate. “But…I’m glad you’re here.”

Jon let himself smile a little bit, and reached out to hold Damian’s hand. Damian didn’t refute the gesture, and even squeezed Jon’s fingers between his. “I wish I’d had been allowed to come sooner.”

Damian shrugged. “It was better you didn’t see any of us as we…were.”

“Were, huh?” Jon asked dubiously. He glanced forward towards Dick’s grave. Flowers and statues covered it as a makeshift memorial, and the flowers were starting to wilt. “…How are you doing with all this?”

Damian absently shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Jon waited, sensing there was more. Had a feeling that in their grief-induced isolation, not many feelings were shared amongst the Wayne family. That they probably all suffered in silence, despite being together.

“I…I didn’t get enough time with him.” Damian continued, just like Jon knew he would. Because Damian didn’t trust easily, but when he did, he trusted you with everything. And Jon knew he was one of the few Damian trusted. Maybe the only one, now. “Eight years. That’s it.”

He squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“If I’d had known that’s all we would have gotten, I…I wouldn’t have wasted it. There was so much I wanted to do with him. Learn from him.” Damian sniffed, and Jon looked up at his eyes. But he didn’t see a hint of tears. In fact, he saw nothing. Damian’s eyes were empty. “But now I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never get to ask how he escaped Father and Gotham. How he survived on his own, and found himself, or how can I do that too. How I can leave Robin, and start over somewhere else like he did. How he rebuilt his life, how he became and remained kind. Did he think it was possible I can remain kind too? Did he…did he believe in me? Or what about how…”

Damian trailed off, and Jon was almost glad he did. Because in his ramblings, Jon heard something, and he wasn’t so sure Damian meant to let it slip.

“You want to leave Robin?” Jon asked softly. Damian’s mouth clamped shut. “Since when?”

Damian stared at the stone in front of him for a moment, before sighing and looking at the ground.

“A few months.” Damian admitted. “I…just don’t fit in it anymore, I don’t think. Or it doesn’t fit me. And I can’t stay in Batman’s shadow forever, no matter who is wearing the mantle. Besides, Grayson left it when he was around my age. As did Drake, even if it wasn’t by his choice. I might as well follow the tradition as well.”

“…Does your dad know?”

“…No. No one does.” Damian frowned. “I was going to speak with Grayson about it next time I saw him, but now…now you’re the only one who knows by default, I suppose.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” Jon smiled. He waited a moment, then looked up at the sky. “So…what do you want to do after you leave Robin? Find a new name? Quit and go on the straight and narrow?”

“I don’t know. That’s…what I was going to speak to Grayson about.” Damian admitted softly. “I want to still help, of course. But…is behind a mask the best way? Is Gotham where I’m best utilized?” He sighed, and curled his knees to his chest. Though he never let go of Jon’s hand. “But now…now I am even more confused.”

“Why?”

“Because Batman needs a Robin, and I can’t leave my father now, Jon.” Damian almost snapped, like it was obvious. “He’s grieving, and he’s lost. He shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Absolutely not. I agree.” Jon nodded. “But…it can’t all fall on you, D. Just like it can’t fall on Alfred or Tim. He has his family, no matter where in the world they – you – are, and he has his friends. He has my dad, and Diana.”

“This is different. This is the loss of Richard. And not even Superman can heal that wound.” Damian shook his head. “Not to mention…if I left now, would my father see it as a betrayal? Abandonment? Would the family?”

“They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” Jon argued. “You’re growing up, and they all know how it is. You can’t be stuck as the Boy Wonder forever, that’s not fair to you. Does the timing kind of suck? Maybe. But also…maybe this is the best time.” He hesitated, but squeezed Damian’s hand and said his thoughts anyway. “Maybe this is exactly what Dick would want you to do. Spread your wings and fly, so to speak.”

Damian stared at the ground. “…I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Jon. I truly don’t. What if, without his guidance, I’m tempted by my mother again, and actually consider any offer she makes? What if I stray, and Batman cuts me loose, like I was burden in the first place? What if-”

“Hey, hey – stop. Don’t talk like that.” Jon shook their clasped hands. “None of that is going to happen, okay? Despite the fact that it won’t ever happen at all in the first place, I won’t let it. I promise. Alright?”

Damian didn’t look at him. But after a moment, he let himself tilt to the side, and lean his head on Jon’s shoulder.

“…Thanks for being here, Kent.” Damian whispered. “It means a lot.”

Jon let go of Damian’s hand, only to wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. He looked at the tombstone at their feet, sent a silent prayer up to Dick himself. “Don’t even mention it, D.”

~~

A few months later, Robin had all but disappeared off the streets. It prompted news articles and primetime specials. Conspiracy theory websites and Twitter hashtags.

Jon liked to print them out and bring them to Damian every time he visited.

He was still in Gotham, and even still going out on patrol with Batman and the rest. But now his uniform was all black, and he stayed in the background as much as he could. This new shadow of Batman’s was never mentioned in the papers, never caught in a photo. A ghost, almost.

That wasn’t Damian’s new moniker, though. He still hadn’t chosen one.

“Not even a general idea?” Jon asked one day, as he and Conner visited. Tim had taken the newly printed article and was reading it over with an amused smirk, Conner cackling behind him. “Or like, a motif?”

“Not a priority.” Damian had shrugged. “Maybe I’ll never pick one.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Jon pouted. “…How’s Bruce doing?”

Damian shrugged again. “Same as always. Attempts to lock himself in the cave, or in his office with work from Wayne Enterprises. I drag him out of the house at least every other day.”

Jon pursed his lips.

“But he’s been smiling lately. Like real smiles. So, it’s a start.” Damian promised. He knew Jon didn’t like this, Damian caring for Bruce. Because he knew that same care was not being reciprocated in the way it should.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jon asked, as he did every visit. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Also not a priority.” Damian sighed. “I’m needed here, both in uniform and at home. When I feel I’m not necessarily needed, then I’ll start considering my options elsewhere.”

~~

Something felt different when Jon was nineteen.

Clark and Conner found him sitting in the kitchen, staring fiercely into a soda can when they arrived home one afternoon.

“Hey, champ.” Clark hummed, leaning down to kiss Jon’s temple.

“Hey, Dad. Hey Kon” Jon sighed. “How was Gotham?”

“Gloomy, like always.” Conner chuckled, plopping down across from him. “Damian said hello, by the way.”

Jon felt himself blush a little bit. And he shouldn’t have, he’s known Damian forever. But lately, it felt like the two of them were growing closer, in a way he never expected when they were just teenagers trying to live up to their fathers’ legacies.

In a way that included flirting, holding hands in a park, in front of paparazzi. A way that included what may have been a date, since it ended in a quick, barely there kiss.

“He said he was going to give an answer to a question he knows you’d ask.” Clark continued, drawing Jon out of his reverie. “No, he has not decided on a new codename yet.”

Jon groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “He knows this isn’t like a blood contract or something, right? It doesn’t have to be permanent! It’s not that big of a choice!”

Clark held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger, son.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon sighed. He sat back up and watched his father grab a glass and start to fill it in the sink. “Speaking of codenames and all that…”

Clark tilted his head as Conner sat up.

“I don’t…when do you think…” Jon huffed. “Conner, when did you realize you didn’t want to…be called Superboy anymore?”

Conner pursed his lips, looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess I never really thought about it. Just…stopped using it. And eventually everyone else did too.”

“I don’t think I knew that.” Clark mumbled sheepishly. “What do you go by now, may I ask?”

“Nothing, really. And not like Damian where I’m still deciding something. But just…Kon, usually. Different enough from Conner, honestly.” Conner grinned. “A lot of people also seem to think it’s Con – as in Pros and Cons? Works real well for the taunting wordplay and all that too.”

Clark snorted. “I’m sure your friends love the puns.”

“Bart does. Cassie, depends on the day. Tim is like a disappointed dad all the time anyway, so he doesn’t count.” Conner waved off. He returned his attention to Jon, whose attention seemed to be drifting off again. “Why do you ask, squirt?”

Jon frowned at the name, and that was new. Normally he didn’t mind the random nicknames his older brother gave him. “Because…I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t think…I want to be called Superboy anymore.”

Clark joined them at the table, sitting down carefully. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a teenager. I mean, I’m…I’m practically an adult!” Jon sounded exasperated already, like he’d had this conversation a million times. “It’s…it’s demeaning, and childish, and…and…”

He trailed off into a huff, slumping in his chair.

“I don’t even know if I want to keep the Super part, honestly.” Jon glanced at Clark. “Sorry, Dad.”

Clark shook his head, raising his hand. “None taken, Jonno.”

“Especially since I don’t feel all that super most of the time anyway.” He sighed.

“…If you want out of the life, Jon, I wouldn’t blame you.” Clark offered. “I’d love it, honestly. It’d just mean you’d be safer.”

“No, no. I want to be a hero. I want to help. I just.” Jon leaned back forward, hiding his face in his hands. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

Conner smiled and leaned forward, slapping his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Not stupid. Pretty sure every hero has gone through it at least once in their tenure. Even Batman.”

“And he settled on Bat. Man.” Clark winked. “So obviously not all names are winners.”

Jon looked over to Clark. “…You’re not disappointed?”

“That you want a new codename? Not at all.” Clark grinned. “My only request is…don’t take over four years to decide something like Damian is.”

Jon smiled. “I’ll try.”

~~

“Maybe I’ll just go by Krypto.” Jon lamented from the bed. “He’s a dog, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“If you started going by Krypto.” Damian countered from the bathroom doorway. “I’m disowning you as my friend.”

Jon rolled to his side, deeper into the blankets. “What about as your potential bedmate?”

Damian’s face twisted, even as he came forward. “Christ, Jon. We haven’t even done anything, how do you still make that sound so dirty?”

“Because I know what annoys you. And if you’d just let me say boyfriend-”

“Which we are not officially.” Damian countered. “…Yet.”

“-Then I wouldn’t have to say things like bedmate, or friend with benefits.”

“We haven’t done anything, there is no benefit for either of us at this point.” Damian reiterated, even as Jon tugged at his arm when he got close enough. Damian sat on the edge of the bed, and almost smiled when Jon shimmied over to place his head in his lap. “Though I am finding your company less beneficial by the minute…”

Jon cackled, even as he felt Damian’s fingers twist into his hair. “Hey, if nothing else, I’m a good cuddle buddy, right?”

“My cat is better.” Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll take the probably as a win.” Jon grinned. “…But hey, think about it this way.”

“Hm?”

“Even if I went by something dumb like Krypto, at least I picked a new codename.”

Damian frowned, and pulled his hand back. “For as charming as your parents are, neither of them taught you how to flirt properly, did they?”

Jon immediately pulled his arms out of the blanket, latching on to Damian’s waist. “You hate when I sidetrack a conversation. I was getting back on point.”

“…Fair.” Damian sighed. “I’ll allow it.”

“…Are you any closer to picking anything?” Jon asked. “According to Barry, you’re throwing off everyone’s betting pools.”

“I...have an idea.” Damian murmured, keeping his gaze away from Jon’s. “But I still need to think of a backup.”

“What? Why?” Jon asked.

“…Personal reasons.” Damian murmured. “And I don’t wish to get my hopes up.”

Jon watched him silently.

“But we aren’t talking about me.” Damian countered. “Have you thought of any other suggestions for yourself?”

“I don’t know. Something related to my dad, like Krypton? Or even like your dad – he named himself after what he was scared of, right? Or weakness. So, Kryptonite.” Jon listed. “Or maybe I should just be lazy and follow everyone else’s lead. Starman, or Sunguy or something stupid like that.”

“Hm. Well. Those are certainly…options.” Damian tilted his head apologetically. “I’d offer assistance, but…well…”

Jon laughed.

“Be my distraction instead, how about that?” Jon suggested instead. Without warning, he used his momentum to throw Damian back onto the bed, cocoon him in the blankets as he loomed overhead. “Because there’s totally a lot of other things I’d like to be doing than thinking of new codenames.”

Damian smiled as Jon leaned in for a kiss.

~~

He didn’t know how Damian had lasted four years without a name. It’d only been a few months for himself, a few months of not using any name, and he felt like he was going crazy.

He also felt like he was a total letdown.

He was a Kent, for crying out loud. Son of Superman and one of the world’s greatest journalists. And here, he couldn’t choose a name, couldn’t pick a damn word.

Not to mention, it was detrimental in the field. When he didn’t notice an enemy coming behind him, or someone needed his help – he had no name to be called. And they couldn’t just shout Jon.

How did Damian make it look so easy? Because Damian and his family were freaks. They all moved too in-sync, too well trained. They were like animals themselves – they didn’t need to speak, movement was like instinct. Communication could be silent, because all of them were always three steps ahead of each other.

He let out a guttural groan as he entered the apartment, slammed the door behind him a little too hard. Heard the squeak of the chair in his mother’s office as she stood to greet him.

“Hi honey.” She called, walking into the room. She took in the annoyance on his face and gave him a sympathetic, knowing grin. “It’s not the end of the world, Jon. Names aren’t that big of a deal. So long as you’re helping, who cares what your name is?”

“I know, I know.” Jon mumbled, kicking off his shoes. “I’m just frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard! Why doesn’t anything feel right?”

“Because it’s not.” Lois shrugged simply, leading the way into the kitchen. She motioned for Jon to sit, and got out a mug for him. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It might take a while, but – when you know, you know.”

Jon groaned again. “Mom, I love you – but that was literally no help whatsoever.”

“Sometimes, the truth isn’t helpful.” She laughed, pouring him a glass of ice tea. She set it in front of him, and kissed his head. “But if you’re really struggling with this…talk to your father. He’s helped a young hero or two discover a new path before. You’re no different just because you’re his son.” She paused. “In fact, I’m a little surprised Damian hadn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Jon stomach nearly dropped. “Dad finally helped him decide on a name too?!”

“Of course not. Damian is as stubborn and tight-lipped as his own idiot of a father.” Lois rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “No, his brother – Dick.”

Jon blinked.

“Nightwing was a Kryptonian name. From the Kryptonian legend of Nightwing and Flamebird.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Even if you don’t want you father’s help on a name, ask him about the story. It’s very good.”

~~

Tim found Damian in the cave alone, and his gut immediately told him that something was off. Not wrong, but…not necessarily good.

“Hey.” He offered. “What’s up?”

Damian didn’t move from the computer chair. He looked too much like Bruce in that moment – slouched, hands steepled in front of his face, looking too thoughtful for someone so young.

“I’d like to talk to you.” Damian returned, just as vaguely.

“I’m all ears.”

Damian hesitated a moment. Dragged it to two. Tim was about to speak, to push the conversation along, when Damian sighed. “I…we didn’t do it right last time. And I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. Not here. Not with you.”

“…Damian?” Tim asked, moving towards him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no. I just.” He sighed. “I wanted to ask your…opinion.”

“On?”

“I think I’ve chosen a new moniker to go by.” Damian murmured. “But I want to make sure I had permission first.”

“Permission?” Tim repeated, bewildered. “I mean…as long it’s not like Red Robin or Red Hood or something, I think you can go by whatever you wa-”

“Nightwing.”

Damian’s voice was so quiet when he said it, Tim almost thought he’d misheard, or that maybe Damian didn’t actually speak at all. That it was maybe a breeze, or a ghost.

But when Damian said nothing else, eyes still not on him, Tim realized he said exactly as he’d heard. “…Really?”

Damian nodded, but seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I mean, those are quite some shoes to fill, especially after all these years, but…” Then Tim paused, replayed what Damian already said. “…Wait, why would you need my permission to use Dick’s old name?”

Damian still didn’t look at him. “Because last time I changed names, I took yours.” He frowned. “I stole yours.”

Tim shrugged. “It was over a decade ago. I know you and I have held a lot of grudges in our lives, but trust me. I’m over that one.”

“And I know Todd would never want Nightwing.” Damian continued as if Tim never spoke. “But…you were next in line. You loved Grayson like I did.” Finally, he looked up, eyes boring into Tim’s. “And you’d deserve it.”

Tim stepped back like someone had punched him in the chest. “Damian…”

“You do, and you know it.” Damian continued. “You’ve fought tooth and nail for respect in this family, for every title you’ve ever carried. You fought for your independence, and have thrived as Red Robin. In a way, you are everything Nightwing embodies, and you deserve the title most.” Damian’s gaze dropped once more. “And I don’t want to take that opportunity from you. Not like I’ve taken everything else from you too.”

Tim just stared.

“He would have chosen you himself. I know it. If he were…” Damian trailed off. Seemed to have to take a moment to compose himself. “…If he were still here.”

Tim lowered his own eyes at the thought. It’d been five years since their beloved older brother died. Despite what the world tried to say, time didn’t heal all wounds, and the loss of Dick Grayson was a wound that seemed almost infected now, especially for Damian.

The world was less without him. Less bright, less kind, less happy – less everything.

Just…less.

After a moment Tim smiled. Picked his head up and moved forward so he could crouch next to the chair, leaning his arms on it. Despite being twenty-three years old, Damian turned his head away so he didn’t have to look at Tim, just like a child.

“I don’t want Nightwing.” Tim said honestly. “I’m happy with where I am and what I’m doing. But I appreciate you asking. I’m…honored, in fact.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I guess.” Damian mumbled.

“But I have to say I disagree with you.” Tim leaned his chin on his arms. “Dick wouldn’t have picked me to succeed him. He wouldn’t have picked anyone. But he would have been so proud to see you take it on after him.”

Damian closed his eyes, sucked his lips between his teeth.

“Because, for once, I’ll toot my own horn a little bit. I won’t disagree with you on this one. Maybe I do deserve the Nightwing name.” Tim admitted. “But I’m not the only one.”

Damian didn’t answer, but shook his head.

“You do too, Damian.” Tim reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “You’ve overcome so much. You’ve done so much. And Dick was proud of you for it until the day he died. I know he was.”

Damian opened his eyes and looked at Tim. The tears immediately fell down his cheeks.

“And he’d be honored, knowing you wanted to follow in his footsteps, and carry on his legacy, for a second time.” Tim chuckled. “Especially after your first words to us when you were a kid was how badly you wanted to be Batman.”

“One day I still will be.” Damian blubbered with a laugh. Tim laughed too.

“I know.” He hummed warmly. “But that was all a long, surprisingly emotionally-charged way to say: while it’s not mine to give, yes you have my permission to become Nightwing.”

Even as his tears continued to fall, Damian stared at Tim for a few more seconds, before leaning forward and, once again to Tim’s surprise, enveloped his older brother in a hug.

“Thank you, Drake.” He whispered. Tim just let his smile widen as he held Damian just as tightly back. “Thank you so much.”

~~

“Tim told me Damian finally picked a new name.” Conner said one morning, as the two of them sat on a rooftop overlooking Metropolis. “…He also mentioned you two might be dating?”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly as he tried to keep his heart rate in check. Damian had told Tim?

“He hasn’t told me about choosing a name.” Jon said instead. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“The other day. Maybe he hasn’t made it official yet.” Conner shrugged. Then he grinned. “Though you’d think he’d tell his boyfriend about it anyway.”

Jon frowned. “We’re not dating.” A hesitation. “Officially.”

“Ooooh.” Conner mocked, scooting closer. “Tell me everything.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but laughed as he pushed Conner’s shoulder. “First off, not your business. And second, there’s nothing to tell? We hang out. We hold hands. We…do things.”

Conner wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop.” Jon chuckled. “I just…like being with him. Being close to him makes me feel happy. Safe. All that cliché stuff.”

“Has he reciprocated?” Jon nodded. “Then why not official?”

“His choice. I think he feels like he’d be judged for having actual emotions or something.” Jon shrugged. “I also think he feels like he’s…not good enough? Or a bad person, or something, and is hoping I might find someone else before we’re legit.”

“Ouch.”

“It sucks, but…I get it.” Jon sighed. “And he just…has stuff going on. Mentally, I think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we started flirting a little bit right before Dick died. So our whole relationship so far, romantically, he’s trying to deal with the loss, with the vacuum that loss created in his family, and growing in his role as a hero.” Jon listed. “He’s stuck in his own head so much that honestly I’m just happy when I can get him to smile some days.”

“That’s sweet.” Conner grinned. “And proof you’re head over heels.”

“I mean…did I ever deny that?” Jon grinned back, but it was sad. Conner’s own smile fell slightly.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Jon exhaled a bitter laugh. “That obvious?”

“Does he know?”

“I think so?” Jon thought out loud. “And I think that’s why he thinks himself such a terrible person.”

“Because he doesn’t love you back?”

“No, no. I think he absolutely does.” Jon said confidently. “It’s just like I said – he thinks himself as a bad person, and that I deserve better.”

“That’s…” Conner pursed his lips. “…quite the conundrum.”

“Yeah.” Jon smiled wistfully. “But anyway, the name. Did Tim say what name he chose?”

“Nope.” Conner kicked his feet against the building. “Tim said it was incredibly personal, and he wasn’t the one to share it.”

“Interesting.” Jon muttered. “Wonder what it could be?”

~~

He was twenty, very much an adult, but oh boy, did he feel like a rebellious teenager right now.

After all, how else were you supposed to feel when you and your not-quite-boyfriend were lying almost naked, cuddled up in your parents’ bed?

Somewhere in his mind he was panicking. If – when – they found out, he was doomed. He’d never live it down.

(But at the same time, it was also totally not his fault. Their apartment was closer to downtown than his was, and the room he still had here only had a single bed. There was no way they’d fit. And since his father was in space and his mother in the Philippines, the bed would have just gone to waste being empty, so…)

Though, simultaneously, any fear of repercussions was drowned out by the utter bliss he felt at being cocooned in Damian’s arms, and using his collarbone as a pillow while they watched the nightly news.

Under his ear, he felt Damian’s heartbeat slowing, a clear sign he was falling asleep. So it was the perfect time to ask:

“I hear you picked a new codename.”

Damian stirred a little and hummed, “Yeah.”

“What name did you pick, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damian hesitated a moment, then whispered, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Never.”

“…Nightwing.” Damian answered sheepishly. Quietly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it. “I…decided to carry on Grayson’s legacy.”

Jon turned and looked up at him. Without thinking he cupped Damian’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, Damian, that’s wonderful.” Damian kept his gaze over Jon’s shoulder, face heating up in an embarrassed flush. “He’d love it, he’d be so happy.” He stroked his thumb across Damian’s skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Damian snorted. “Nothing to be proud of. It took me five years to pick a name someone had already used.”

“For good reason.” Jon countered. “And an homage to a great man.”

Damian allowed himself to look at Jon now. He stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, then carefully took hold of Jon’s wrist, and leaned in for a kiss, which Jon ate up greedily.

After a moment, they separated, and Jon twisted back to stare at the TV, Damian’s arms still tight around him.

“…What about you?” Damian asked softly. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Superdude is sounding better and better every day.” Jon said dryly. “But I guess I haven’t really been thinking about it either. Been focused on some other more important things lately.”

“Oh? Like what? School?”

Jon grinned, kept his eyes on the weather report now lighting up the room.

“You.”

Damian didn’t answer, but Jon felt him gently kiss his temple, and lean their heads together.

~~

“Mom said I should ask my dad.” Jon hummed as he paid for their coffee. “But we haven’t seen each other in a while, and you know more about Krypton and all that stuff than he does, you know?”

“Sure.” Kara smiled, taking her cup from his hand. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested in some old Kryptonian legend?”

“Just curiosity, mostly.” Jon shrugged. “Dad helped Dick Grayson become Nightwing back in the day, and now that Damian is taking the title on, I figured I should learn a little bit about it myself.”

“To support your future husband?” Kara smirked.

“Stop.” Jon groaned. “I should have never told Conner the truth.”

“I’m just glad to know you’re happy.” Kara squeezed his hand as they walked outside. “And also that I now have a viable reason to beat Damian up.”

“And that reason would be?”

“For the honor of my littlest cousin.” She winked. Jon found himself laughing. “Thanks for walking me back to the office, by the way. I’m sorry we couldn’t have lunch today.”

“I totally understand. I have to get back to campus for class soon anyway.” Jon waved off. “Rain check for a movie night, though?”

“Absolutely. Go buy a lot of tissues, wine and chocolate, because I am in the mood for some tearjerkers.” Kara demanded. “And…Damian is more than welcome to join us, if he’d like.”

“He’d never.” Jon promised as they jogged across a crosswalk. “But he’ll appreciate the invite.”

“Are you just saying that, or would he really?”

“Honestly, he really would.” Jon swore. “He’s trying not to take little things like that for granted anymore. Not since…well. You know.”

Kara frowned. “…I miss him too.”

“Everyone does.” Jon murmured as they stopped outside a building. Some people waved to Kara as they exited and jumped into a taxi nearby. “He was the best of all of us.”

“Give Damian my regards, and a hug for me. Tell him I’m sorry about Dick, if you think it’s appropriate.” Kara murmured as she turned to her purse, and began digging in it. After a moment, she held out a book. It looked old, and pages were misshaped, almost like they’d been gnawed on, or burned. “First, last and only edition.”

Jon took the tome, marveling at the etched green cover, and symbols seemingly floating around the image. But then he frowned. “Kara.” He sighed. “You know my Kryptonian isn’t that good.”

“Well then this will be a great tool to learn.” She smiled, squeezing his bicep. Someone suddenly called Kara from the door. She smiled and waved back before glancing to Jon. “Gotta go, kiddo. It was great seeing you! Tell your pops hi for me!”

She turned, and began to jog away, when Jon called after her. “Kara, wait!”

She did, glancing over her shoulder.

“Give me a quick summary?” He tried with a lopsided grin. “You know, to keep me interested?”

Kara twisted her lips in thought, then smiled. “Nightwing and Flamebird always find each other in the end.”

She took a sip of her coffee and disappeared into her office.

~~

By two o’clock in the morning that very night, Jon sat at the desk in his apartment, tears pouring down his face.

The legend was magical, breathtaking, awe-inspiring…but heartbreaking. The most heartbreaking thing he’d ever read.

But it also made him realize exactly what he needed to do. Exactly what his future was.

Exactly who his future was.

Without thinking, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and laughed as he stood, turning towards his window.

It would be a quick flight to Gotham, and surely Alfred was still awake at this hour.

~~

Damian stood on the top of Wayne Tower, staring at the city below him. The city he’d come to think of as home. The city that was…his.

He felt weird without the cape, without the hood. Was still getting used to the tight, plain bodysuit. The lighter armour. The dip of red across his chest.

He could take Grayson’s name, but he could never take his colors. That blue was too pure. Damian refused to taint it.

He inhaled and held his breath, then exhaled slowly. It was his first night in his new gear – would the villains know who he was? Would they mock him? Could he live up to his brother’s standards? Would he honor his memory?

“Damn.” He heard off to his side. “You look good.”

Damian glanced over, and found himself at a loss for words. The other man was in a similarly simple bodysuit, though instead of black, it was a deep blue. Opposite of the downward red arrow on Damian’s chest, the bright, near-blinding golden arrow on the other pointed upwards, almost looking like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Damian stared for a moment, taking it in, before meeting Jon’s eyes. “This is new.”

“You like?” Jon asked, practically shy. “Alfred helped me make it.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Jon stepped forwards. His boots, which matched the shimmering yellow on his chest, seemed to flicker as he walked, like fire. “I mean, he helped make yours, and it’s only natural our designs match a little bit.”

“Why would they need to match?” Damian asked. Then he squinted. “Jonathan Kent, have you chosen a new moniker?”

“I did indeed.” Jon grinned. “Surely Dick told you how he got his name.”

“He did.”

“Did he tell you the story behind it?”

“He did not. But I’ve heard of it.” Damian found his voice going quieter, his throat drying up. “Your father told me, I believe.”

“Mhm.” Jon reached out, gently taking Damian’s hand in his, raising it between them. “And do you remember how it goes?”

Damian blinked, then smiled. “Refresh my memory.”

“Nightwing can’t exist without Flamebird.” Jon smirked. He pressed his lips to Damian’s knuckles. “And no matter the universe, no matter the situation, they always find each other in the end.”

“…Well, Flamebird.” Damian whispered softly. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you found me too.” Jon stood back up. “Ready for our first official patrol in the new digs? Say goodbye to Robin and Superboy forever?”

“Do you want to call it our first official patrol?” Damian let his grin widen. “Or perhaps our first official date?”

Jon gaped at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “For real?”

“For real.” Damian promised. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting-”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Jon surged forward, wrapping him in his arms and lifting him off the tower’s ledge as he smashed their mouths together. Damian let his surprise linger for only a second, before grabbing both sides of Jon’s head and returning the gesture.

The moment felt like it lasted both an eternity and no longer than a blink. When they parted, they were both out of breath, and trembling from the emotional adrenaline.

“Flamebird.” Damian breathed as Jon lowered him, his hands still on Jon’s face. “I think I like it.”

“Good. Because I didn’t have any backups.” Jon chuckled.

“It suits you, I think.” Damian smiled.

“Nightwing suits you just as well.” Jon countered. “…Dick would be so proud.”

Damian just lowered his gaze, but allowed himself to keep smiling.

“…Well.” Damian exhaled, looking out into the city. “Shall we?”

Jon bowed, holding his arm out. “After you, ‘Wing.”

Damian laughed and turned, stepping off the building and allowing himself to freefall. “Follow me, ‘Bird.”

Jon smiled, and jumped right after him.

#jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami #Tim Drake #conner kent #kara zor-el #clark kent #Lois Lane

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miss-choco-chips · 5 years

Text

Twisted soulmates

BIG Thank you to @iphoenixrising who let me babble on chat about this idea, and to @the-sky-is-a-lie who is an awesome sweetheart and read and edited this for me (THANK YOU!)

---------------------------

Tim has three names on one wrist. His soulmates. Tim has one name on the other wrist. His nemesis.

...or are they?

Tim gets his first mark the night the Graysons fell, ‘Richard John Grayson’ forever tattooed on him, the otherwise unblemished white skin of his left wrist almost shining in contrast to the new addition.

Young, he might be, but not stupid; never stupid. Neither of his parents would approve of a circus artist, perfect as he may be in Tim’s wide opened eyes, so he had to be smart about this. His mind hasn’t stopped whirling since the little touch that burned Dick’s name on him and vice versa, all kind of plans on how to broach the subject with the adults, how to make Dick like him beyond the promised love of a soulmate, every possibility dancing through his eyes, while his parents look for their seats at the stands none the wiser.

He's planning on asking his mom to stay after the show, so he might properly introduce himself to this marvelous trapezist, maybe proclaim an interest in the training - anything that could improve his overall abilities was a good thing in Janet’s eyes, and having her on board would be enough to force his father to accept. He’s excited at the prospect, and a part of him thinks Dick, up the trapeze getting ready for his act, feels the same. That he could feel, through the bond that snapped in place when the other kid first touched him, an echo of his own happiness, a joy at finding, so soon in life, something as beautiful as this.

He’s going to stay after the show. He’ll talk to Dick, introduce himself properly, be as mature as possible- Dick wouldn’t want a dumb kid as his soulmate. Maybe even make friends with this wonderful boy that can fly and is destined to love him.

(Love him, him, him. He can’t wrap his head around this strange concept of being on the receiving end of something strong and wonderful. He might cry.)

Then the tragedy occurs, and Tim's too traumatized to think about doing anything about it. He can't pester a grieving boy with this. They are kids after all, and it’s not like their bond is going anywhere.

(I don’t want to wait, please don’t forget about me, please love me.)

---.---

Dick has just been adopted, his entire worldview had changed, adding a soulmate to care about would be just too mean of him. Tim can take care of himself, even when sometimes, after his parents left for yet another trip, he yearns for someone to hold his hand after a nightmare. To brush his hair back and hug him.

But that’s just the child in him. He doesn’t need it to live, it’s just a silly comfort thing to wish for, like the baby blanket his mother had made the servants take away once Tim turned four. So he keeps quiet. He waits.

Dick’s name is on his left wrist, after all. He is his soulmate.

----.----

He gets his second mark years later, when the Batcave’s security is breached and some strange men attack Bruce. The giant penny is too tall, but he still get a good look at the man below it, and something in his gut twists. It all makes sense a few minutes later, when Bruce is fighting someone else and the man in green robes pushes Tim aside, holding him hostage to get the Batman’s cooperation.

The skin on his wrist, the one that doesn't have Dick's promised love tattooed on it, burns. He doesn’t dare look down, aware of how taking your eyes from the predator in the room could mean instant death. He doesn’t need to, anyway; he already knows.

Tim’s pretty sure this is his nemesis, because no way he'd be destined to hate Dick and love this criminal, and they are on opposite wrists. So… getting away is the first step on his ‘do not interact with this terrorist until I’m significantly better at defending myself’ plan. Easy peasy.

He catches the side glance the man shoots him, because of course he also felt the burn, and there’s curiosity there. Something akin to amusement, which, Tim can get behind, he’s also seeing the irony of this, the utterly ridiculousness of him being important enough in the grand scheme of things to warrant being tattooed on this man’s skin.

There’s also possessiveness there, which isn’t fun at all. Stranger danger, his mind screams at him.

His nemesis shouldn’t be possessive of him, unless he has a really fucked up view of his enemies, in a ‘their death is mine, and mine only’ way. Because this is his nemesis, there's no doubt in his mind of that.

Dick is on his other wrist, after all, and he is his soulmate.

----.----

Bruce goes mental when he finds out later, and almost blows a gasket. Ra’s, as Tim later finds out his nemesis is called, is suddenly one upping the Joker on Batman’s high priority enemies list, which means only a glimpse of him anywhere near the city borders would warrant a call to Superman, Bruce’s ultimate last resort. That’s how big this is.

Young Justice has split feelings on the matter. Cissie and Cassie, ever the bloodthirsty ones in Tim’s humble opinion, suggest tracking the man down before he can get to their leader, and taking him out of the game. Probably permanently. Kon seems torn, half with the girls, half with Bart, who finds the whole thing amusing and exciting. Ra’s Al Ghul, one of the most dangerous enemies the Justice League ever faced, and little old Robin is his fated enemy. Not Superman, not Wonder Woman, not Batman himself; just their Rob. That, according to the speedster, is so, so, so crash. The rest of the team, if they have opinions, keep them to themselves. It takes a while to calm the room down and focus on their mission of the day, but he eventually succeeds.

Dick, on his part, comes back from where he was brooding with the Titans after a fight with his mentor to fret over Tim, and everything is right in the world.

He isn't afraid of Ra's. He has his new family, new friends, and soulmate.

----.----

There’s something on his pillow when he gets back from the weekend with his friends.

A perfect rose, white as snow, thorns so sharp Tim knows they would pierce skin if touched. Not that he would be so stupid as to do it, not when foes like Ivy existed.

But… there’s a ribbon, and it sends ice through his veins. A red ribbon, tied at the stem’s exact center. A flower with a ribbon, the universal symbol of soulmates.

He’s pretty sure Dick’s back in San Francisco. Which leaves...

No.

He squares his shoulders and searches in his bag for his Robin gauntlets, protecting his hands with them as he disposes of the rose.

His right hand stings a little through the entire process.

----.----

When he gets his third mark, he's honestly surprised. As well as on the edge of unconsciousness from blood loss.

The blood flooding his airways is his, and the building that he believed was his safe place would never feel like that again. His knocked out friends litter the hallways, the bo staff he tried to use to defend himself long lost to the fight, as this man, his hero, his Robin, his apparent Soulmate, tries to kill him.

(Their eyes meet and they feel it at the same time, the twist in their stomachs, which is what stops Jason's blade. Tim’s hand raises up, weakly, and carefully brushes against the one holding the knife. It burns, and everything goes black for a minute.)

(Jason stops breathing. He has the Joker on one hand, and was markless on the other until now, so this runt has to be his soulmate. No way it's the deranged clown. Which means he almost....)

Jason runs away (this is Jason, his wrist claims, not the mysterious Red Hood any longer) and Tim patches himself up, does damage control with his friends, calls Batman. His heart is beating twice as fast as usual, but he tries to be logical; Jason is on the same wrist as Dick, who is his soulmate, and opposite to Ra's, who's most likely his nemesis. Ergo, Jason's gotta be his soulmate.

His confused, probably traumatized, totally not in his right mind soulmate.

He's gotta be patient and wait. Jason surely will get better, will come back to Tim, will fix this mistake he almost made, will... will love him.

Dick is his soulmate, and calls him ‘little brother’, which hurts, but he says it with such warmth that it soothes the ache. Dick loves him.

Jason will, too, someday.

----.----

A few weeks later, he wakes up in the middle of the night, conscious of the feeling of being watched from the shadows of his room.

There’s the teddy bear Steph won for him at the fair some months ago, sitting on the chair near his bed where he last put it, but… odd. There’s something about it that’s not quite normal, something that wasn’t there when he went to sleep half an hour ago.

It took him less than a minute to spot it, which would still be shameful if Bruce ever found out, but he sees the unusual shine in the bear’s eye and groans, more tired than rightfully angry, feeling like the moody teenager he never actually was.

A hidden camera. This was the fifth of the year, what the hell?

Pissed off, he gets up and takes the scissors he leaves by his bedside (can’t exactly go to sleep with a birdarang there, his dad might check on him at night and freak out, but sleeping without a weapon in easy reach just makes him uncomfortable) and makes quick work of the bear, getting the device out with as minimal damage to the plushie as possible. He’ll fix it later.

Beyond done, one hand opens the window with more strength than absolutely necessary, the other flying back to gather momentum and throw the thing right at the supposedly empty shadow on the roof of the building across the street. He’s not surprised when a dark gloved hand catches it, the rest of the body still perfectly concealed by the night. Fucking ninja.

No words needed, he slams the window shut again and grumbles his way to his desk, turning on his lamp. He’s not falling asleep again tonight, so might as well work on some cases.

----.----

His fourth mark is both exciting and like a bucket of cold water.

It's a fucking kid.

Is this how Dick felt when he first got Tim's mark? No wonder he avoided talking about the subject, this was uncomfortable as fuck. Granted, it didn't necessarily have to be a romantic soulmate, platonic soulmates were a thing too, but... still. Awkward.

Even worse because the kid didn't have another mark and, as Tim was his first, was convinced he had to be his fated nemesis. No matter how hard Tim tried to explain the opposite; after the heart stilling moment where he extended his hand for a shake and was slapped away, thus providing the skin to skin contact needed for the bond to form, the brat was sure it was nothing but a ruse to get him to lower his defenses or something. God this kid was fucked up.

So. In short. There were two of his soulmates trying to kill him. Great.

But... Dick was on the same wrist as them. Dick loved him. Dick was his soulmate. So Damian... Damian had to be, as well. Maybe he'd grow out if his hate, maybe it was just a phase.

Maybe.

----.----

His mother and father were dead. Steph was dead. His two best friends were dead.

Tim was numb, going through the motions but not really feeling anything. His only source of emotion, nowadays, was his constant rage at Damian, and the adrenaline while fighting a bad guy.

He barely slept. He couldn’t remember the last time he properly ate. The manor wasn’t comforting enough with the little assassin roaming around for him to get any shut eye, and how could Tim be sure he wasn’t going to poison his food?

Sleeping in safe houses seemed the smarter move, even when they weren’t really safe at all, judging by the ‘gifts’ that kept appearing every time he turned his back. Food - sealed and untempered with - files on whatever case he was working on, a brand of turkish coffee that he would gladly down even if it contained poison…

Flowers, hundreds of them, all white in color, tiny red ribbons tying their stems.

Tim shivered at the meaning, but no longer minded the feeling of eyes on him while he slept. Looking for hidden cameras was too much effort to be worth it, as long as there were none in the bathroom and his walk in closet. He couldn’t care less, these days.

----.----

Jason tried to kill him. Again. In the middle of a Pit Episode, even after all Tim had done to help him, to mend their relationship.

Damian was even worse, abusing Tim any way he could, any time he got the chance to get away with it. And it was a startlingly large amount of times, considering their family should be more attentive to attempted murder. None of Tim's effort to bond ever bore fruit.

But he's still convinced they are his soulmates, so he's gotta be patient. They have to be.

Because Dick is his soulmate, and they share a wrist.

Because Dick...

----.----

Dick betrayed him. In the worst possible way, in the most vulnerable moment of his life. When Tim needed him the most.

Jason tried to kill him.

Damian tried to kill him.

Dick betrayed him (which was, arguably, worse).

Dick was his soulmate. Jason was his soulmate. Damian was his soulmate.

They had to be.

----.----

His quest for Batman would’ve been a lonely affair, if not for the honeyed voice whispering in his ear. The silent eyes he felt on his skin wherever he went, more heavy than his three assassin escorts’ stares.

What a crazy world it was, where Tim’s nemesis believed in him, while his first soulmate, the one he loved almost his entire life, claimed delusion. Where his nemesis sent his people to keep him alive, to keep others out of his way, while his other two sought his death.

What a crazy world indeed.

----.----

-I think we need to talk, Timothy. About this bond we share.

-I’m listening.

Timothy, he said, but it didn’t sound like his name at all.

In his mind, it echoed something scary, something that made him shiver and tense.

It sounded like Mine.

----.----

Ra's al Ghul was probably his soulmate.

He's gotta be. Because there's no way Tim's fated to love three people that are just going to break his heart again and again and again.

When he goes to the League for help looking for Bruce, he steels himself in place when Ra's’ voice in his ear makes him want to flinch. He grits his teeth at the viper like words murmured in soft tones. Makes himself accept when Ra's offers to train him in the ninja arts after he successfully brought his mentor back. Clenches his fists when he's asked to dinner in a dimly lit French restaurant.

Ra's didn't retaliate when Tim blew up half his bases. He kept giving Tim pointers and praises. Seeking his company.

So he breathes in.

He forgave Damian for being a killer, Jason for being one, too. He surely can find it in himself to forgive his actual soulmate for being a criminal.

In time.

Right?

...Right?

----.----

Something dark and victorious twists in Ra’s chest when the Detective doesn’t flinch away from his touch, and silently accepts the white rose and red ribbon he presents before guiding him deep into the restaurant. There’s acceptance in Timothy’s eyes, reluctant but hopeful, even if he stirs away from any ‘dangerous’ topics of conversation and very firmly drops a drug test pill in his glass of water the second the waitress turns her back on them.

Ra’s doesn’t comment on it, merely mirrors the act on his own wine (one could never be too sure, not when an enemy as interesting as this is seated across from him) before raising it for a toast. Not that the Detective was aware of the reason.

He’s got a lot to celebrate.

Deceiving this one wasn’t easy, after all.

----.----

Later that night, alone in his room, Tim turns in the bed, his back to the cameras on the far end of the room. The movement is slow, lazy, following his usual sleeping patterns. A clumsy hand pats the mattress, blindly looking for a pillow and dragging it to his chest, face hidden by its softness. He goes lax again, peaceful and oblivious to the world around him to any lingering eye.

Once he’s sure there’s no way anyone could see him, Tim lets a slow, dangerous smile creep on his face, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, feeling so alive it’s almost painful after all the numbness.

Ra’s was looking so smug, like the cat that got the canary. Oh, he tried to hide it, but Tim had made it his life's mission since he was twelve to understand the man to his truest essence, to be able to read him as one would a book, and practice had taught him how to play him like a cheap kazoo.

He probably shouldn’t smile, safe as he is in hiding his face in the pillow, but he can’t help it.

Deceiving Ra’s, soulmate or not, wasn’t easy.

#Tim Drake #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #bruce wayne #ra's al ghul #Ra's is creepy #but he's smart about it #OR IS HE #Young Justice #Timdick #Jaytim #damitim #ra'stim #soulmates au #nemesis au #which one is each though #my writting

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red-winters · 4 years

Text

*Batfam fic-recs

*Some are Tim Drake Centric

**Some links are not working in mobile (and ONLY mobile) for some reason? And some titles that were bolded in the original post are ALSO not displaying on mobile correctly. Idk what to do about that, but you can still look up the fic, I guess.

The Bat’s Crest - livierambles

Note: I will always keep recommending this fic. It’s epic, thrilling, and hilarious and sometimes angsty. Also, everyone is confused, including the ones doing the confusing. Maybe especially the ones doing the confusing. Also, some Tim and Damian bonding, which is always nice.

Summary: Tragedy strikes the hero community when Bruce Wayne commits a crime so heinous even the best start asking for blood. However, as the heroes try to recover from the hit and carry out justice for their friends, a random assortment of people start acting oddly, including the current Speedy Tim Drake, a child hostage in Gotham, and a young man from an unremarkable circus amongst others. All of them seem intent on saving Bruce Wayne from the grasp of the Justice League for no apparent reason, going as far as betraying their previous allegiances.

Unknown to the Justice League, these people are equally confused. Clearly they're stuck in another dimension, but how do they get back? How did they even get here? Who else is stuck in this world? And how long will Tim's patience last? Back home, the Bat was a planetary symbol that struck fear in the hearts of criminals. In this new world, it has no meaning, save for the handful of stranded souls.

In the Shadows - Kieron_ODuibhir

(shortened) Summary:

“I’m not like you.”

The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.”

Chirp - AmariT

Summary: Every piece of the signal Tim unlocked revealed more locks, and by the time he broke through the last one, he was already mentally rehearsing his many upcoming talk show appearances. 'Yes,' he told the interviewer, 'it was difficult for me, a ten-year-old genius, to break open the worldwide alien conspiracy. That's why it took a whole hour.'

When the crackling audio started, he expected some weird alien language. Maybe squawks and high-pitched squeals mixed with musical woofs. Maybe they wouldn't talk at all, and images would beam directly into his mind. Maybe they'd talk in practiced English with a Midwestern drawl like their other resident alien.

Instead he heard a low, guttural voice growling out of his computer speakers. "Robin," it said. "Are you in position?"

A Better Cage - Mangaluva

Note: I was absolutely DELIGHTED to see a Young Justice Crossover with the Justice Lords (Earth-50) from the animated Justice League series, which is near and dear to my heart. I admit I haven’t really had much time to hunker down and read this, but even skimming, it’s an intriguing piece of work. Also, Justice Lords.

Summary: Wally's grateful to have woken up at all, really. He just doesn't know what to make of the world he's woken up in. At least they want to find a way to his world as much as he does, if not exactly for the same reasons...

Common People - AmariT

Note: The Bat boys are all Bruce’s blood sons, but it still feels very much like a found family. I haven’t really read everything in this series, but I feel the author has an amazing grip on all the characters. Lovely and heartwarming.

Summary: His whole life, Jason’s mom had told him his dad was Bruce Wayne, but he’d never been dumb enough to actually believe it. They lived in a rundown, one-room apartment in the worst part of town, and in every single picture he’d ever seen of that rich bastard he was wearing a suit or sipping champagne worth more than everything they’d ever owned.

But if he wasn’t Bruce Wayne’s kid, then what the hell was he doing sitting outside the man’s office in Wayne Towers?

Red Robin and the Hood - momoejaku

Note: Haven’t read this in a while, but it made an impression. Though it’s a fic set during the Red Robin arc, it very much is about both Tim and Jason. Plus, it fleshes out the Pru and Z a bit more, too.

Summary: Bruce Wayne is dead. Superman brought back his body, and the family mourned him, holding a quiet funeral in secret so that the legacy of Batman could live on. But not everyone has been able to put him to rest.

Reeling from the loss of Bruce, his identity as Robin and his trust in his family, Tim Drake sets out on a personal quest that will take him across the world to prove what he knows in his heart: that Bruce Wayne is alive.

Though intending to make his way alone, Tim reluctantly accepts help from his predecessor, Jason Todd, who knows from personal experience that death is not always as final as it seems.

Together, they are Red Robin and the Hood.

Liminal Spaces - Calamityjim

Note: Skimmed this only since I’ve been busy, BUT it does look well-written, and I’m always a sucker for alternate dimension/dimension travel intervention-type of fix-its. It’s a very specific trope.

Summary:

Bruce's habit of collecting strays is not limited by dimension.

Or

When Young Justice Batman comes across an angsty, seemingly abandoned by his Batman Tim Drake, he decides to step up to the plate and parent the crap out of him.

Little Bird’s Vengeance - KatHarkness-Katara

Note: Crossover with Avengers. Awesome fic with Tim and Jason and some Outsider POV (via the Avengers) of these dimensional stragglers. I think Tim’s team shows up in the later chapters, too. If you’re reading on mobile, it’s still very much worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version.

Summary: Why is life never simple? Red Robin's ended up worlds away from home once again, and now what's he to do? What do the Avengers want from him; do SHIELD have another agenda; and is there any way back? Pre-New 52. No slash. Rated for inevitable language/violent themes.

A Displaced Red Robin - dragonprincess1988

Note: Worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version. Well-written fic! EMOTIONS! I love them. Younger Dick Grayson is adorable, Tim is a competent fixer-upper for other people but not so much himself. He’s kind of angsty and making YJ Dick want to keep him (and YJ Bruce, too, if you read between the lines). On the plus side, seems like he’s making good friends with Young Justice Roy. This fic was written before certain episodes of YJ came out, though, and the fic reflects/will continue to reflect that. Still, I give it five stars.

Author’s Summary: Tim gets transported to the cartoon Young Justice world, and he's not sure he knows how to deal with it. Attention: If you want to know about Artemis or people from Tim's world the final note on my profile is for you. Also, a special thank you to angel-gidget over at Tumblr, who made the wonderful cover art for this story.

The Till-then From the Ever Since - Keiron O_Duibhir

Note: Fandom classic. Definitely a must-read for Batfam fans, in my humble opinion.

Summary: It began, or seemed to begin, with Jason.

Usually that would have meant something in the order of fire and explosion and probably at least one gunshot wound, but for once (as Tim said, sourly), it wasn't actually Jason's fault.

The Wayne Family Ghost - pupeez4eva

Note: Please read this. Especially if you’re sad or anxious or just have time. I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s my go-to cheer-up fic. Absolutely hysterical.

Summary: In which Bruce realizes that having a legally dead son, who regularly hangs around the family, might be slightly problematic.

Bloodline - chibi_nightowl

Note: Complicated family dynamics, this time centering around Tim, Selina, Bruce and, surprisingly, Damian. Jason and Dick make an appearance as supportive big bros, too. It works. Take a read, it isn’t that long.

Summary:

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.”

Tim blinked. “My what?”

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

Talon!Tim AU Series by keeptogethernow

Note: Found family, from a different angle. Cool fic and well-written.

Summary of Tso’ape Mumbichi, first in the series: Ten years ago, two people made a deal with the devil--unlimited funds in exchange for their child. And now it's time to pay up. But there's no way to ensure that the child will cooperate.

Shutterbug Series by goldkirk

Note: Exactly what it says on the tin! Found family.

Summary:

Tim Drake is thirteen, runs the famous BatWatch blog that has spiraled hilariously out of control, has absentee parents that suit his purposes just fine, is training himself to run the streets at night, and is doing absolutely peachy, thank you.

Alfred and Jason disagree, and get Dick and Bruce involved in figuring out their weird next door neighbor kid’s life. Everything goes uphill from there.

Thursday’s Child - anthalogia

Note: Well-written and has found family and Tiny!Tim? Automatic win.

Summary:

He’s not the first child with nowhere else to go that Bruce Wayne has taken in. Dick Grayson was the first and the most high-profile – because no one would have thought Bruce Wayne was interested in ever raising a child, let alone the orphaned son of circus performers – but Jason was maybe just as much of a shock to society for being a street kid who came out of seemingly nowhere. Tim Drake is ordinary by comparison – his parents died in a plane accident. He can’t think of anything very special about him except that he met Bruce a few times when his parents hosted parties to keep in touch with Gotham society.

Or, tiny Tim Drake is adopted by the Waynes a little earlier than scheduled.

We’re Not Driving (How did we get here?) - TimTheToaster

Note: Short and sweet, a little angsty, and then very sweet.

Summary:

Tim stared at his phone, as if that would change what was on the screen.

Dick Grayson @FlyingDGrayson

It took some doing, and in some cases a little blackmail, but we've finally got the whole family together for a movie night! #WayneManor #movienight #familytime #schedulingisanightmare

15 minutes ago

Take It Back Now Y’all - TimTheToaster

Note: And Tiny!Jason has made his appearance. Also, Tim, I am begging you to please take care of yourself—ah, Bruce has made his appearance. Interesting. Also, I gotta say this author is good.

Summary:

There was absolutely no way this sunshine was from Gotham in April.

Not possible.

Which meant, Tim was no longer in Gotham, in April.

(In which Tim finds himself in the past, and tries to do the right thing. It's more complicated than he'd like.)

Takes a Little Time, Takes a Lotta Twine (To Get Us Back Together) - TimTheToaster

Note: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, beginning of reconciliation, and brotherhood. A satisfying, cathartic moment during the Red Robin arc to soothe your heart.

Summary:

Tim was in Gotham.

Tim had pretty specifically been avoiding thinking about Dick as much as possible for the last few weeks.

For the last year, really. No need to open that can of carnivorous worms.

Dick had other plans.

Everybody’s Heard (Bird is the Word) - TimTheToaster

Red Robin Era ANGST, but like, deliciously well-written. Also, protective Dad Bruce is always epic. Light bashing of Green Arrow and BC, though. But considering the situation (in this fic), kind of warranted.

Summary:

5 times Batman heard other heroes talking about his wayward brother,

And 1 time they were talking about his son.

A Choice to Make - scorbusfics

Note: fresh and interesting premise! Cool world building, too.

Summary: They have to choose. Dick and Bruce have to choose one person each to save, and one to disappear through the door.

“Send one of us,” Dick says fiercely, not for the first time. His face is dark and angry and desperate, eyes flicking from brother to brother. “Send one of us instead. I won’t choose.”

“Neither will I,” Bruce says.

But Tim knows.

Secret Places - RenaRoo

It’s ANGST, but the author knows how to use it well. Also, Jason’s line at the end killed me. Damn.

Summary: Tim Drake goes missing. The search to find him begins.

#fic recs #batfam #tim drake fic rec #batfam fic rec

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aconitemare · 4 years

Text

[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Three

Previous Chapter

AO3

A large mirror — a looking glass — or so it seemed to me — now stood where it had not been before. As I walked toward it in terror I saw my own form, all spotted with blood, its face white, advancing to meet me with a weak and uncertain step.

Four knocks sound at the door, quick and heavy, impatient: Suzie Su. Jason glances up from his book, a collection of Poe’s works mailed to him from Wayne Enterprises, Office of Bruce Wayne, C.E.O. It’s no library book — an expensive collectible, probably, judging by the silver-edged pages, embossed cover, and massive size. Jason is more tolerable of this gift, however, compared to the first edition volumes of Great Expectations sitting in a box in his bedroom closet. Sometimes he has the urge to bring them outside, douse them in kerosene, and roast marshmallows over them. He once got as far as unearthing the box and running his hand gently over the topmost volume, registering its rough texture beneath his weathered palm, before he lost his momentum and tucked the box away again.

“What is it?” he calls out. The doorknob jiggles. “It’s locked,” he drawls, tipping his chair back a little with his toes. Upside down, he looks out the wall-to-wall windows behind him. The final dredges of sunlight bruise the Atlantic Ocean purple.

Suzie Su kicks the door futilely. “No kidding,” she gripes.

Jason sits back upright. He shifts the paperweight off his open book, moves to close it, and is promptly reminded of the photos spread across the desk. They’re why he had begun reading. He had grabbed a book off his shelf and slammed it down, burying the bodies. Now, dead boys stare up at him, their dark hair rusted with blood and their hollow bones crunched. They look like crows, like a murder, infused with tragedy and beating broken wings.

“What do you want?” he asks roughly, eyes transfixed but mouth still — as always, he knows — moving ahead of him. He needs to get these out of his sight or he’ll lose his mind.

“Well, it’s not a social call,” replies Suzie Su.

“Be right there,” promises Jason. He shoves the photos into the book, crushing his doppelgangers between the final pages of William Wilson. Then he bats the book away, towards the corner of his desk for later.

Jason unlocks and opens the door to reveal Suzie Su in a plain, button-down shirt damp with sweat. It pools beneath her pits like dolphin fins halfway down her sides. He raises an eyebrow. “What, no little black dress?”

“You don’t pay me to be beautiful, ass,” says Suzie Su, brushing past Jason into his office.

“Shit, am I supposed to be paying you?” he jokes, watching her over his shoulder. He’s about to follow when James darkens his doorway next. James is less sweaty but sporting a badly busted lip. Of course, the interesting part is the man he’s got wrapped in his arms with a potato sack over his head.

Jason spreads his palms in delight. “Oh, good, you’ve found someone for the internship,” he says with cheer. He cocks his head to check around James’ hulking form. “Any other incapacitated applicants? No?” He sighs and shakes his head remorsefully. “Low turnout.”

James just stares at him, unamused. Probably sour over the punch Potato Sack got in. “Let me in, please,” he says. Jason courteously steps aside, closing the door behind him. James immediately releases Potato Sack, who sags to his knees and leans against James’ leg for half a second before regaining his balance. He’s more conscious than Jason would have thought for a bound and gagged kidnap victim.

Jason points at him. “Who’s the fool? He just come from the county fair’s three-legged race?” he inquires. Potato Sack is dressed nicely; his outfit is a tad disheveled, but there’s no blood or sweat on him, at least not from the neck down. His peachy pocket square is halfway out his paisley blazer. The cuffs are folded to his elbows, exposing muscular, nicely tanned forearms.

Suzie Su flops into one of Jason’s chairs, the white leather one with too much cushion. “The sack came straight out of Big Guy’s car. I don’t even know,” she remarks. She sounds tired despite being uninjured, like she might’ve chased Potato Sack all the way here.

Jason contemplates making a Karate Kid reference, something about chasing chickens, when James chimes in. “We can’t have suspicious figures knowing where your office is,” he justifies. “Especially right now with the — photographs,” he finishes, visibly uncomfortable.

Jason shrugs and shakes his head in amused mystification. “A suspicious figure?” he repeats, making a “so what?” gesture with his hand. “Is that all he is?”

James grimaces. “Not all. He’s weirdly… agile. Freakishly quick.”

Suzie Su laughs, a husky and wheezing sound in her current state. “Agile is right. He pirouetted James right in the face.” Pirouette, Jason thinks. The word spins into his mind, a flurry of movement, and then neatly halts on a striking thought. Jason turns his attention to the well-dressed man on his knees.

Meanwhile, James is sending Suzie Su a glare across the room. “It was a roundhouse kick,” he corrects as if the name affords him more dignity. “Just a really spinny one. I don’t think he was actually even on the ground — ”

Impatient, Jason rips the sack off the man’s head. His jaw clenches so tightly he’s aware of the ache. Dick is noticeably unharmed, except for perhaps a small patch of dirt accentuating his sharp right cheekbone. His hair is in disarray, silky strands breaking from what once must have been perfectly molded curls to fall smoothly into his alert blue eyes. He looks more like a pampered socialite returning from a joyride with the windows down than a hostage. Dick blows a rich black lock of hair out of his eyes and gives a toothy grin that positively dazzles. “Hiya, Hood. Fancy seeing you here,” he greets and, for added impertinence, he even winks at Jason.

Claustrophobia looms over Jason’s back like an invisible but palpable enemy, breathing down his neck, crowding him against Dick and Bruce and Tim. He never should have contacted Tim, this was the respect they showed, the audacity. He has a flash of himself yanking Dick up by the throat and dangling him out a window, letting him drop to the icy ocean. Then he sees Dick’s golden face turn cold, eyes white and face pale, and the horrifying vision is gone just as fast.

“Everybody out,” Jason orders. He feels stiff, his spine stiff, his voice stiff. He’s still staring at Dick, the smiling piece of work. Suzie Su stands up and lumbers towards the door, but James lingers.

“Is he one of your, you know,” James starts out. He brings his fingers to his head and Jason knows he’s about to form little bat ears, but fortunately, James drops his hands to his side instead. James swallows dryly. “I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah, way outside,” Jason agrees sharply. “Outside the casino, if you can.”

Dick watches the two of them with glass-blown eyes. He smiles cheekily at James and says, “Maybe you can keep an eye on the parking lot, make sure no one touches Hood’s bike.”

James narrows his eyes at Dick but says nothing more. He turns around and stalks out the door, trailing after Suzie Su. “The door, ” Jason adds, mildly amused when James grabs the doorknob and slams the door shut. “Touchy,” Jason tuts.

Dick springs to his feet and begins undoing the knot around his wrists. Jason just barely resists shoving him back to the floor. “What the hell, Dick!” he shouts. “What happened to the fucking parking lot!” he demands, waving his arms.

Dick’s wrists come free, the rope falling to his feet in one final and fluid motion. “I got lost,” Dick says. He smoothes out his shirt, which draws Jason’s eyes properly to how the pink highlights the rosy warmth of his skin tone. He looks good.

“Oh, my god,” Jason mutters, turning away from Dick and pinching the bridge of his nose. There’s tension building there, a volcanic tension Jason is always pushing down, keeping dormant. Stupid, stupid, letting the Bat in. He can only blame himself because if he blames Dick he’s going to go on a rampage, and anyway, holding the bats accountable has never worked for him before.

“You know what,” he says after a moment wherein Dick wisely stays silent, “it’s my fault,” he informs, holding his palms up in surrender. “I, despite many opportunities to learn from my mistakes, entrusted your hegemonistic troupe with private information and somehow expected you to respect my rules.” Jason holds a hand over his heart and leans forward in apology, causing Dick to have to tilt his chin slightly upward. Jason stares intently at him, going for venomous sincerity as he says, “This is on me for thinking what I said matters to any of you psychos.”

Jason watches Dick blink owlishly at him. He’s still in Dick’s space, waiting for a response, when finally Dick smiles and pats him on the shoulder. “Woo!” he says, wiping his forehead, “Glad we got that over with! Very mature of you, Hood,” he chirps, stepping around Jason. Jason imagines grabbing him by the neck and holding him in place, pinning him still like one might do to a butterfly that lingers too long for safety. Jason does not do that.

Dick begins rooting through his desk, wiggling drawers to find they’re locked and checking beneath his Poe book like he’s in a clue game. Jason can’t help but release a weary sigh. Jason begins, “Would rather you just let me die, if we’re being hon — ”

“By the way, what you say does matter,” Dick abruptly interjects, looking up from another locked drawer to stare Jason down. Dick’s hair has fallen into his eyes again, providing a thin buffer between their gazes. Jason awkwardly shifts his weight and suspects, with some bitterness, that the terms of the mission have just switched hands. Then Dick is pushing his bangs out of his face and wrestling his curls out of their mold. “It’s just that your life matters more,” he explains, and the whole line is just so nonchalantly sentimental, so easily spoken, that Jason wants to throw them both out a window. At least Dick has stopped staring at him, and he looks like slightly less of a prick now that his hair is closer to its naturally relaxed wave.

“The curls make you look gay,” Jason informs, trying not to pout like he’s sixteen again and Nightwing is refusing to partner up with him on a case.

Dick smirks. “Those who live in glass casinos, Jay,” he retorts. “Feel like unlocking any of these for me?” he asks.

Jason crosses his arms. “Not particularly, no,” he replies, shaking his head.

Dick twists his lips in irritation before, apparently, moving on, expression blasé. “That’s fine,” he dismisses. “What’s not fine is that security of yours,” he adds, unimpressed, as he scoops the Poe collection into his hands. Jason’s heart seizes in his chest.

“Hey!” he protests, marching towards Dick and reaching for the book. Dick’s shoulder cuts between them, blocking Jason off.

“Your bruisers couldn’t land a real hit on me — and they just take me to you without, apparently, informing you ahead of time?” Dick criticizes. He’s sifting through the silvery pages now, fanning them with his thumb. “What if I had been your stalker? What then? They deliver me unto you where I’m free to shoot you point-blank?”

Stalker, Jason thinks, is a tad dramatic. “What, they didn’t pat you down?” he asks, already knowing they did. James is too paranoid not to and Suzie Su knows who lines her pockets.

Dick purses his lips unhappily. The overall effect is charming against Jason’s will; it’s a beautiful mouth, full and fair, and easily admired when idle. But then his lips are framing around words, as they frequently are, and Jason has to focus. “Well, technically, yes, they checked me for weapons,” Dick admits. He holds a finger up and points at Jason’s chest. “But there are other ways of killing you.”

Jason pats his chest and then holds out his arms like wings. “And yet I am not dead. Security seems just fine to me.”

Dick’s expression sobers. Jason can barely keep up with Dick’s emotive face, the ups and downs of his duel humor and sincerity. “You’re not dead because there’s been no attempt. You’re the endgame and these boys are just,” language fails Dick here.

“Pit stops?” Jason offers, raising both his eyebrows. Dick clearly doesn’t appreciate his word choice, because his brows knit and he turns his fine cheek further away from Jason. He wants to keep pushing, though, so he says, “How about appetizers?”

Dick has reached the end of the book, but before Jason can feel relief, he starts fanning the pages again. “Sure,” Dick concedes, albeit moodily.

Jason leans against his deck and watches Dick flip through. He considers ripping the book out of his hands, but he doesn’t know if it’s worth the trouble, so he holds back and drums his fingers against the edge of the table, letting his anxiety bleed out through his tips.

“Appetizer makes sense,” Jason proposes. “Sociopath like him, he likes to whet his hunger when he can, but he’ll never be full,” he explains, almost absently, his mind drifting away from the office and towards the ocean facing him, and across that ocean, too, all the way to his return to Gotham. He remembers his own hunger.

He hears Dick slap a page down. Jason doesn’t bother looking; he knows Dick found the photographs. A tiny sigh escapes from Dick beside him. Jason glances at him from the corner of his eye, sees Dick tapping his fingers against a face, communing with some boy’s preserved pain. Jason looks away.

“Except he’s not ‘whetting’ anything,” Dick says. “These kids aren’t for his benefit. They’re for yours.”

“None of these kids died,” offers Jason, partly as an agreement with Dick’s point, partly just to remind himself. They’re all alive. They’re breathing. They didn’t lose everything.

Dick hikes himself up on the desk and sets the book down in his lap, legs pretzeled. The white slacks curve keenly around his thighs. “Makes sense for a reenactment, which the assailant’s going for. You didn’t die, after all.”

Jason’s jaw flexes. “I did.”

Dick does not respond, which Jason is grateful for. Having the photos open, their bodies inspected while he stands off to the side, is such a keen breach of privacy. He feels it like a direct violation, yet he knows better than to snatch the evidence from Dick’s hands. Dick always comes bounding back after a rebuttal, Exhibit A: this whole thing. The only way Dick would be gentler is if he needed to be, and Jason refuses to give him a reason.

After a minute, Dick breaches the silence. “Full discretion?” he says.

Jason hangs his head and braces himself. He’s never noticed before, but there are tiny fishes painted onto the ceiling. “Yeah?” he asks, figuring Dick is seeking permission, or whatever.

“I watched the tapes.”

That gets Jason’s attention. He faces Dick whose fingers rest on the open pages, whose brow is furrowed in what must be guilt or nervousness. Jason opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head. “What tapes, Dick?”

Dick taps his index finger on the first kid: Terry Weind. The name he learned from a news report the same day his picture was stuck to his bike. No pictures were released to the public, but Vale spared few details in her verbal description. Jason didn’t have to do much digging for the boy’s identity. He had shown up at the hospital with flowers, telling Terry’s mother that he was just a concerned citizen. He also told her that Gotham’s heart went out to her son, that there was a community right outside that hospital room, even if it felt the only souls around were her and her son’s. He hopes she believes it better than he does.

“B has had Park Row Memorial recorded around the clock for years. He has — every one of the attacks on camera. We watched them while he was prepping me for this case.” Dick says this like it’s a confession and Jason has the power to pardon him.

Jason nearly scoffs. “Yeah, well, it’s your job,” he says instead. If he was stronger, Jason would hold this breach of privacy against him. He would take advantage of the one aspect in all of this that Dick appears penitent for. He should be sorry. Dick got to watch not just three kids brutally beaten, exploited helplessly, he got to watch Jason. Jason had to experience his death completely alone and now he had to experience it again on a stage. Neither Bruce nor Dick were there for him as partners, but they are here as an audience. Jason’s grave has been violated by more than just a hooded figure in an alleyway, but Jason does not have the energy to be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have the energy to give Dick what he wants.

“So, what’s the plan?” asks Jason, propping his elbows on the desk. Dick doesn’t answer, so Jason says, “You must have one since you went to all the trouble of getting James to deliver you personally to my office like a sack of potatoes.”

“Who keeps a potato sack on them, by the way?” Dick asks. Jason shrugs. “That’s just weird,” Dick comments.

“Yeah, he’s kind of weird,” Jason agrees. “But so is everyone in your corner. Those who live in glass batcaves should not throw batarangs?” he asks, irony lacing his words.

“Wingdings, actually,” Dick corrects, which reminds Jason of the Microsoft font and he wonders if Dick’s stupidity is contagious. He’d hate to start calling his guns ‘bat-barrels’ or ‘Times New Hoodlum.’ “Also, the plan might just take place in the aforementioned glass house,” Dick adds.

Jason shakes his head. “You’ve lost me.”

Dick sighs, the perfect picture of put-upon. Jason knows where this is headed: he’s the unreasonable one here, somehow, despite arriving by car like a normal person instead of on a suspicious person list. “Your hired muscle isn’t the best,” Dick begins with an insult, so Jason knows it’s going downhill from here. “Bunker’s observational skills are decent, but not up to par. Your ‘James’ is sloppy. And the, uh,” Dick licks his lips here, “ lady — insulted you about five times between the budget interrogation and the bumpy ride to your office. Wherever her loyalties lie, they’re not with you.”

Jason groans dramatically and pushes off his desk. He reclaims his book from Dick’s lap, closing it shut and walking towards the whale-shaped bookshelf mounted on a non-windowed wall. “Su’s loyalties lie with her money, and her money lies with me,” Jason refutes. He gently slides the book between a copy of The Orphan Master’s Son and Hamlet. “You tell me where a man gets his corn-pone, and I’ll tell you what his opinions are. Mark Twain,” Jason cites.

Dick watches him from his seat on the desk. His lips are pressed in wry amusement, although the amusement may be wishful thinking on Jason’s part. He’d like to say he put something on Dick’s lips, and humor is good enough. “Yes,” says Dick flatly, “that sounds familiar, thank you. But money only goes so far when another pocket reaches farther. Me, telling you she’s bad news,” he cites himself.

“Alright, fine,” Jason says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. He moves them so his jacket fans out in a textile shrug. “Tell me then — Suzie Su the figure you caught on tape? I assume it’s only a figure and not a clear profile since you’re sitting on my desk like it’s your college dorm bed and not out there apprehending my so-called stalker.”

“So-called because they are stalking you, Jason,” Dick says gravely.

“Thanks for the clarity, dickhead, the situation could’ve been really lost on me. Almost forgot I’m the Case of the Month.”

“Sorry,” says Dick, wincing.

“Ugh,” Jason says, hanging his head back with the burden of Dick’s personality. The confession-booth sincerity might be ingratiating if Dick wasn’t as oppressively righteous as an Elf on the Shelf.

“And no,” Dick resumes, “the figure is definitely not Suzie Su. Average height, it looks like, although he’s — bent, most of the time, so it’s guesswork. His frame is neither slim nor broad.”

Jason laughs. “Really? That’s the best you got? Not tall, not short, not big, not small?”

“Well, he’s wearing a hoodie, which obscures a lot of their physique,” explains Dick. He raises his eyebrows then, a questioning movement, and glances out the windows. The room has crisped to an orange color without Jason noticing. In a few minutes, the sunlight will be directly in Dick’s eyes, and then shortly afterward night will fall. “Specifically, he was wearing loose-fitting denim jeans, black combat boots, and a red pull-over with the hood up,” Dick describes.

The last revelation pulls a clownish ribbon of laughter from Jason. It’s a nervous one, which must be obvious to Dick, but he can’t help it. The laugh bubbles in his chest, acidic, and pops on his tongue with acerbic heat. “I bet,” is all he says.

Dick musters a half-smile and says, “Points for theme?”

Jason snorts. “Yeah, sure, he can get all the points for theme. But why?” he asks. “What the hell is this theme? He’s dressed himself like me to kill me. Am I killing myself? Is that the idea? Is he saying it was all my fault, that I got myself killed?”

Jason envisions himself as he is now, face veiled in red, bring metal down on Robin. The warehouse builds itself around the nightmare, boxes stacking atop boxes, men milling about indifferently, and then running out. Except that it’s not the warehouse, it’s Crime Alley, and the walls collapse revealing narrow city streets. The Joker falls away and Batman stands in his place. Jason looks down, expecting a bloody crowbar, but he holds in his grip a simple, slightly rusted tire iron. Both are red though, in the end, aren’t they?

Jason flexes his empty fingers. The floor beneath him is plush, white carpet that’s been bleached more times than he can count. “Why Park Row?” he asks.

Dick’s voice is muted, almost hesitant, actually, or perhaps just attempting to hush and soothe. “It could be coincidence. Park Row is conveniently vacant, especially at night, and he wouldn’t know there were cameras watching,” Dick speculates. He approaches the next possibility more tentatively. “Or he might know what Park Row means to you, to Robin. He could even be showing off how much he knows.”

Jason blanches. “He knows a fucking lot then.”

Dick does inventory: “If Park Row is coincidental, he wouldn’t necessarily know you as Jason Todd. He would just know that the Red Hood was Robin and that the Joker killed — ”

Jason cuts him off. “With a crowbar, he got it to the exact weapon .”

The weapon troubles Dick as well, Jason can track the rumination on his face. The crowbar is specific, purposeful, and not common knowledge. The details of Jason Todd’s untimely death were not released to the public — and as far as his other identity went, Robins may change but they don’t die. “Bruce has a theory about that,” Dick shares.

“Oh, yeah?” Jason asks. He can’t keep the sarcasm from entering his voice. Rationally, he knows Bruce can help him and that’s why he’s willing to work with him. But also, what aspect of Jason’s life hasn’t Bruce analyzed through a microscope, poured into a beaker to see if it would blow up, and uploaded for his future reference? What aspect of any of their lives has Bruce not thought through for them?

“Joker, or someone who worked with him that day,” Dick supplies. “They would know about the crowbar, and if it’s the Joker, he makes almost everything Batman does his business, he might even know about the cameras. He could be taunting B by making him watch.”

What a theory it is, too. Jason starts laughing until Dick trails off and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jason says, holding up his hands in mock apology. He pretends to wipe away a tear. “That is just some crazy narcissistic bullshit. I’m getting the photos of these mutilated kids and he’s the reason why?”

Dick must know Jason has a point because he flounders briefly before restarting. “Maybe not the reason, but logically Batman is connected. I know it doesn’t feel, I don’t know, satisfying, but it’s the only plausible theory so far. The Joker’s games almost always lead back to him. He used you to get at Batman, it’s at least worth considering how Bruce might factor into — ”

Jason holds up a hand to shut Dick up before he loses his patience. “So, none of this is about me?”

Dick’s expression turns confused. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know this is about you.”

“But my death wasn’t,” Jason practically spits. He shrugs, tries to play this casually, but he wants to upend the desk Dick is still sitting on. He’s overcome with the suspicion that everything in this room is a prop to Dick, a piece to a gameboard he’s playing with Bruce alone. The both of them are entitled to waltz in with some half-baked disguise, lounge on his furniture, look through his books, watch his death over and over again. Jason himself is just another clue.

“You can say it,” Jason encourages, “I died for Bruce. It was never about me, it was always his war and I,” Jason pauses for the right words and when they arrive, the anger building up in him blows away. “I was just a good soldier.”

Dick’s eyes don’t sharpen with recognition; they cloud over with it. Jason repeats the plaque’s inscription in the Batcave: A good soldier. It shines, encased in gold, commemorating Jason’s death while in defiance of his life. Here, in this conversation, it is soaked in venom. Jason doesn’t mean it as an attack; nonetheless, Dick shifts physically away as if to hide the bite mark.

Jason takes a fortifying breath. This isn’t where the conversation is going, he vows. “This isn’t the Joker and this isn’t Batman’s case,” he says steadily enough. Dick has slid from the desk and finally stands, his gaze level with Jason’s. Jason gestures broadly, indicating everything around them that Jason has built for himself the past few years. “ This isn’t Bruce’s life and I’m not about to give him mine again.”

Jason thinks he’s made his point. He just wishes Dick didn’t look like he had slapped him. “No one expects that,” he assures before amending with a tiny frown, “I don’t expect that. I won’t speak for Bruce.”

“That’ll be a first,” Jason replies wryly.

Dick actually laughs, kind of, more of a huff but it’s not without humor. “That’s fair, I suppose. I know everyone thinks I’m his champion, but I try to support everyone in our bat-themed infantry. Family, or so I like to call it. I defend you, too, Jay. I hope you know that. I guess he just seems to need me in his corner the most. Or maybe his corner is where I’m used to being, I don’t know, either way — it was just his theory and I thought it was worth sticking to the wall.”

Jason’s impulse is to criticize half of what Dick just said, but he leaves it be. Dick may be here for Bruce, but more importantly, they’re both here for the case. “I get it. But it’s a theory for Batman, not for Red Hood. I know Bruce is already halfway to commandeering the case and you’re here as a favor to him because we infamously don’t get along, but if you’re going to work with me, you gotta respect what I’ve got going on. Because whoever this person is, they’re not going to all this effort over the Joker or Batman. I’m not a soldier caught in their crossfire this time around. They know me as Robin and as Red Hood. This is very, very personal.”

Dick’s eyes drift to Jason’s bookshelf. He’s thinking of the pictures and how these kids were hurt because of Jason. Jason is, too. Dick folds himself across his chest and nods. “You’re right, you’re right. This is your case.” When Dick looks back at him, his face is intense. “I am here for you, not him. Well, I’d like to think we’re all in this together and so in a way I’m here for both of you, but. I don’t see this as a favor to him. Just so we’re clear.”

Jason breaks their gaze before he can accidentally believe him. When Jason became Robin, Dick avoided him because he was upset with Bruce. When Jason became Red Hood, Dick chased after him because he wanted to help Bruce. And when Dick faked his own death and told Jason nothing, it was because of Bruce. Why Dick wants to expand their relationship now is beyond him, but he’ll take help where he can get it.

Besides, he does like the idea of Dick leaving Bruce’s corner for his. If Jason plays his cards right, Bruce’s plan for a middleman could backfire with Dick not apprising him of every time Jason’s nose twitches. Even Dick can’t resist a mission in Gotham without the Bat breathing down his neck.

“Good,” Jason finally says after moments of Dick patiently awaiting the reception of his little olive branch. “Well, if it’s not a favor to him, then you won’t care that one of my caveats is keeping B on a strict need-to-know basis.”

Dick furrows his brow. “Define ‘need-to-know.’”

“Uhh, unless I say, ‘hey, Bruce needs to know this,’ he doesn’t need to know this.”

“Bruce is a good resource, Jay,” Dick insists. “You’re important to him, believe it or not, he’ll want to know everything is developing safely and efficiently.”

Jason cocks his head left and right like an unbalanced scale. “Yeah, well, I don’t want what he wants and it’s my case.”

Dick purses his lips thoughtfully. His forehead relaxes as does so, and it occurs to Jason that Dick is actually quite expressive. He can see the reluctance fall off his face, track the movement of thoughts across his gray-blue eyes. It’s strange to think that this man with all these open emotions and mercurial playfulness was raised by Bruce and his shadows. “Okay,” Dick eventually says, somewhat pensively, “what do you want?”

It’s an honest question, not rhetorical in the slightest, and that catches Jason off guard. He isn’t equipped to answer it. Jason knows what he doesn’t want, but that’s easier. He’s learned not to want things. He remembers wanting immensely in the life before this one. Jason is more careful now. If he was reckless, he would say he wants Dick here. He likes that Dick has all but literally chased him down to give him that help. He might want Dick to keep chasing him. He wants to be found, to be saved. But Jason knows from experience that those wishes don’t come true.

“I want you to leave the Bat out of it,” Jason reiterates. He says it because it’s easier, and on the outside wanting an absence is like wanting nothing at all. But it is a want secretly, a real one, because he wants to know if Dick is chasing him like he suspects, or if he’s holding a scalpel behind his back, ready to scrape off a sample of Jason and deliver it to Bruce.

Dick doesn’t roll his eyes or argue. In fact, he doesn’t react to the sarcasm Jason had safely wrapped his answer in at all. Instead, he breathes in through his nose, inhaling the terms and conditions, and then breathes them out through his mouth, fully processed. “Within reason,” he acquiesces. It’s not enough and Jason is about to say so when Dick holds up a hand. “I will not contact him without telling you first. And if he sends me anything about the case, I’ll forward the information right away,” he modifies.

That’s another fear to pile onto Jason’s plate. Dick doesn’t even plan on Bruce being forthcoming about whatever he might find on Jason’s rogue. “Yeah, Dick, details are kind of life-or-death here!” he exclaims, utterly bewildered. “I would freaking hope you don’t let Bruce hijack my case.”

Dick has the social graces to look contrite, although Jason knows he’s no different from any of the bats when it comes to secrets. They’re all hard-pressed to feel real guilt over things as petty to them as privacy. Boundaries, like all obstacles, are easily circumvented with a just cause and some zipline.

Once Dick’s done pretending he’s sorry with his face, he sticks out a hand. “Our case,” he offers.

Jason laughs quietly. “Nah, but sure,” he agrees, shaking Dick’s hand. Then he leans back and crosses his arm, shifting his weight to one leg. “I guess the only thing left to sort out is for you to meet the in-laws.”

Dick tilts his head. “In-laws?” he repeats curiously.

“The Outlaws,” Jason specifies as Dick nods and makes an “ah” sound. “Or what’s left of them at least,” he says.

Dick finds his way back to Jason’s desk and hikes himself up. He begins swinging his legs like a child. “I think I already did meet them. What did you call them? Sweaty Su and Fat Lip?”

Jason doesn’t think he’s heard Dick roast nearly enough people to be satisfied. “Yeah,” he says, grinning despite himself. He really should defend them, they’re all he’s got at the moment, but also they suck. “You should call them that to their faces, they’ll love it.”

Dick points at him and winks like the two of them are onto something. And maybe they are.

#jaydick #dickjay #dc #fanfiction for the void

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shleezaemour · 5 years

Text

Snippet to my latest smut update

“No! I’m not doing it Hazel! You can’t make me!” I was trying to escape my annoying little sister, but she was on my heels coming in hot.

“Please!! Nico please!! Just do the Rush stuff with him! It’s the first time Alpha Omega has had an open bidding. The first time they didn’t pick the bids! Anyone can rush! Frank has wanted to rush Alpha Omega since we arrived and he always gets cast aside as not good enough. This year over twenty of the members graduate so they have a lot of open spots! Please!! It’s not like you are going to want to actually join, I just need you to help him!” It was true, Franks been talking about joining the Alphas for a long time. I also know that Last year they tried to recruit me. They know I can slip in and out of places easily. I helped one of their members sneak into a liquor store and steal a few kegs once. Ever since they have been trying to get me to join.

“I’m a lone wolf Hazel, I don’t need a pack.”

“But Frank does! Please I’ll do anything!”

“Like let me use your car anytime I want? For a year?” I could see her breaking at that statement. She didn’t want to give up the new car dad had bought her.

“Get him in and I’ll sign it over to you.”

Fuck! I guess I’m pledging to Alpha Omega.

(Timebreak)

I hate my sister.

Frank and I were assigned to one of the chapter houses, it was a big frat so there were four of them. They put 5 pledges to each. I hate my sister because I’m standing next to her boyfriend in a fucking chicken costume. There is apparently some strange celebration tonight and we are stuck making the food for it. It had been this way all week, some dumb or embarrassing thing we are assigned to for the week. They apparently don’t count this as hazing. The school has a no hazing policy. What the school doesn’t know is that we are sworn to secrecy and if we break it they will come after us, apparently that happened once and the guy ended up transferring because of the hell they rained down on him.

I didn’t need a bunch of preppy Neanderthals looking into my personal life or my family, so whatever they had in mind for hazing I could take. Part of me was hoping it was like those hazing videos on pornhub... not so much luck. All week it had been cleaning the house in awful costumes. We had to hand out flyers for the mixer tonight dressed as chickens and then we will be serving the food the same way. Brother Jason was in charge of us for the week, but we really just reported to him. We still had to do the bidding of all the residents in this house. There was Brother Percy, Brother Jason, Brother Will (who seems like the nicest), Brother Leo, and Brother Pollux. All of which were dicks in their own right, but getting to know them more this week was a bit more eye opening.

Besides frank and me we had these two brothers, Conner and Travis. They seemed to love rush week. They were just as pumped to get in as Frank. There was another kid too, Austin. From what we deduced he’s related to Will in some way, so Will isn’t allowed to interact with him.

I found out that Percy had an abusive step father and works 3 jobs to put himself through school and support his mother, Jason was a foster kid that made his own way into college alone after being separated from his sister. Leo’s mom died leaving him in the foster system too, him and Jason were foster brothers and clicked up to make way to university. Pollux lost his twin brother in a school shooting and plans to lobby for gun control in the future. As much as these guys are douchbags, it seems the world made them that way. Their story wasn’t to far off from mine. Seems like we were put in the tragedy house. Maybe that’s why they wanted us, we all seemed to have a sad story. These guys were as good as they were bad, my kind of people. If I had a kind of people that is.

“If I have to peel one more egg for tonight I’m going to scream!” Frank wasn’t much of a cook, he was stuck peeling while I stirred up the deviled eggs.

“It’s only two more days dude. Percy let it slip that tonight after the party we will be given assignments. If we can complete the challenges we are in no questions asked.”

“Yeah I overheard Jason talking about it too. They are putting us in teams of two.”

“Well looks like I draw the short straw on that one.”

“Dude you know I’m making you my partner in this, I wouldn’t have survived without you.” He finished peeling the egg and began cutting them in halves.

“You want this Frank, I could care less if they take me. Partner yourself with someone who wants to join. I would go with Austin, you know the brothers will pick eachother. That dude is smart and sneaky, he will help you get the challenge done by any means necessary.” I started putting ingredients in the yellow mash under a large mixer.

(Timebreak)

After the party we were assembled into the foyer still in our chicken attire. Lined up and awaiting the next level of hell.

“Pledges! You have done well this week. All of you have survived! Other houses have lost pledged this week, only our have endured. We have four bedrooms open! Not to say that all of you won’t make it, you all very well could and two would just need to share. So don’t think that this final challenge if you complete it is as make or break. It will only be you not completing the challenge that disqualifies you from Alpha Omega.” Jason was talking formally in his brothers robes. They all were decked out in their Greek gear behind him.

“You will have two days to complete the challenge. In two days you will come back here and present your winnings. In teams of two you will go forth and receive no help except from your partner. One of you will stay behind and do the house challenge if they do choose to except it. Pick your partner!”

Frank did as I instructed and chose Austin, the still brothers of course chose eachother which left me to do the house challenge.

“Good, now Stoll Brothers. We challenge you to make 1000$ legally. Meet us back here on Monday at 11pm, well I guess that gives you three days but you will need the time. Austin and Frank, the same goes to you. 1000$, we don’t care how you do it as long as it’s legal. Sell lemonade, T-shirt’s, your labor. No asking for money from family, no borrowing from friends and none out of your own bank account. We will have spies out there to make sure this is done. If you do not have the thousand dollars bring us what you made and we shall deliberate of whether you are worthy to join the brotherhood. Keep in mind that if you have the full amount or more that it shows us that you will do well in our philanthropy department and we need people who can raise money for the chapter. It’s shows you are resourceful and determined. We already know you are loyal and disciplined, show us you can go farther than just obedience. Show us you can be a leader. 11pm Monday gentleman, that will be all.” Frank shook my hand and wished me luck. I followed the brothers into the letting room to await whatever the house challenge would be.

“Pledge Di Angelo please stand before us.” They all sat on a long couch facing me.

“You are the best one out of the bunch, you already show resourcefulness, but you seem to have a small problem with authority and submissiveness.” Said Brother Will.

“I’ve been on my own a long time, I don’t have a lot of experience working as a team.” My head was down when I answered, I won’t lie part of me got butterflies at the compliments.

“Well you have two choices Pledge. You can be sexy butler for the sorority house just next door, our sister house. Or you can be a sexy butler here.” Brother Percy spoke with a smile on his lips. This was a personal trial, they know I don’t like serving others.

“What do you mean sexy?”

“I mean this is what you will wear for the next two days.” He threw a black and white thong with a bow tie on the front of it at me.

“And you will do as your are told, regardless of the request. The only choice in the matter is this house or the girls house.” Leo’s voice sounded amused. From the looks on their faces they were waiting for me to say the girls house. Yeah, cause that’s what I want. A bunch of girls pawing at me and using me like a sex toy, little did they know I couldn’t get it up for a woman if I tried. I would have better luck here. That was the decision though wasn’t it? I could go to the girls house, fail, and get kicked out for not being able to complete the task. I could walk away from all this, get kicked out now. I’m not the type though, I don’t back away from a challenge. Even though I was doing this all for Frank part of me was doing it for me. I wanted to see if I could see it through, a personal challenge. Plus if I backed away now all the work this week was for nothing. Through the week I found the perks of being in a frat, the networking, grade breaks, discounts in over a hundred companies, loan opportunities that others don’t get. Being part of this brotherhood would only help me in the future. Plus the worst that could happen is a gang bang with all of these dudes, and that’s nothing. I’ve done worse for less. Plus that’s not even a guarantee, for all I know the worst of it could just be them grabbing at me trying to make me uncomfortable, small dick jokes (though I knew that wouldn’t happen once I put on that thong) more like big dick jokes. I might have to do a few handjobs if I was being realistic. None of these guys was bad looking, Will especially was handsome. If the worst that would happen was me getting hollowed out by five hot guys I can do that standing in my head... hmmmm that might be an interesting position honestly.

“I’ll take this house if you don’t mind brothers.”

To be continued .... here https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132883/chapters/46744054

#rick riordan #nico di angelo #percy jackson #will solace #pjo #heros of olympus #jasico #jason grace #leo valdez #frank zhang #hazel levesque #camp half blood #pollux #solangelo fanfiction #solangelo #percico #smutwriting

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chibinightowl · 6 years

Text

Bakery AU, Part IX

One more chapter to go...

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII

~*~

“Tell me what?”

Tim’s heart starts to race, a last ditch effort by his body to give him the brainpower needed to get the words out of his mouth. He takes hold of Jason’s hand and removes it from his chin, but he doesn’t let it go. “I know you’re Redwing.”

To his credit, Jason doesn’t even flinch. “Right,” he drawls. “Tim, I think you’re a little sleep deprived.”

“Oh, I am,” Tim agrees. He forges on. “But I know I’m right.”

“Really? How so?”

“Because I figured out that Dick Grayson was Robin when I was nine years old.”

Jason’s grip on his hand tightens, the only sign his words are affecting him at all. “Okay, suppose I buy this tale. How did you figure it out?”

Tim launches into a story that has never once passed his lips. About how as a young boy he went to the circus with his parents and met an acrobat who promised to do a quadruple somersault just for him. He spoke of how that night ended in tragedy, with the acrobat’s parents falling to their deaths when their ropes snapped. “I kept tabs on Dick after I heard Mr. Wayne took him in. Sometimes I saw him at society events it was okay for kids to attend. When I was nine, I caught a clip on one of those paparazzi TV shows of Robin. They were running a brief segment on local urban myths. The video was absolute crap even if they did try to clean it up, but it wasn’t the person I recognized. It was what he did that struck me the most.”

“What did he do?” Jason prods when Tim pauses to gather his thoughts.

“He did a quadruple somersault. There’s only person in the world who can do it. Dick Grayson. After I figured that out, the rest was easy.” Tim bites his lip, stopping the flow of words.

There. He’d done it. No going back now.

Jason places his hands on Tim’s shoulders, holding him firmly in place as he stares intently at him. “Are you telling me a nine year old boy figured out one of the most closely guarded secrets on the planet?”

Tim nods. “If you’re referring to Batman, yes. He goes to great pains to hide it. Superman on the other hand…a pair of glasses? Really?”

A heavy hand covers his mouth faster than Tim can blink. “I think that’s enough tonight. You’re tired and obviously getting to the point where you’re not thinkin’ straight.”

What? Tim stiffens and jerks himself away from Jason. “You think I’m making this all up? I’m exhausted, but I’m not stupid. Jason, I have never, ever, spoken about this to anyone before. If you don’t believe me, fine. I was trying to be honest with you, because if you want whatever this is between us to work, then you need to be honest with me.”

“I don’t think this is the time or place to be having this conversation. You don’t have a door right now, remember?”

Tim’s mouth snaps shut. Son of a bitch. Had he been speaking too loudly? He doesn’t think so, but Jason is right. All that’s keeping the rest of the world out of his little shop is a piece of plastic. “Sorry. Sorry, you’re right. I’m just…”

“You’re tired, Tim.” Jason hauls him back in and plants a tender kiss on his forehead. “Go take a nap. I’ll finish cleaning this up.”

There isn’t anything Tim can do but nod. He’s blown it. He knows he has. Goddammit, why did he say it? Had he really misread things so badly? What’s going to happen now? Jason would be fully within his rights to never see him again after this little bomb. Fuck.

Tim lets Jason direct him into the kitchen and, under his watchful eye, gets his blanket and pillow out of the storage bin. Jason doesn’t comment about it, which says a lot about where this is all heading. He makes a little pallet under his desk and lays down. Through bleary eyes Tim watches Jason turn off the light and close the door, leaving it open just a crack. This is the last time he’s going to see Jason, he knows it. It hurts so bad that he doesn’t want the same thing as him.

So much for that gamble.

As Tim falls into a fitful sleep, he swears that he hears the low tone of Jason’s voice speaking to someone. “B? You won’t believe what I just heard…”

~*~*~

The next day Tim decides is quite possibly one of the worst he’s had in a while. Jason is gone when he wakes up to the alarm the man apparently set for him. No note, no nothing, not that Tim expects anything after the mess he made of things last night.

Stephanie tries to get the story out of him when she arrives an hour later with breakfast and coffee, but he refuses to say a word other than that he and Jason had a disagreement. This isn’t something Steph can help with. It’s all his fault.

“Do I need to call him and tell him to stop being an ass?” the blonde asks pointedly.

Tim loves that her loyalty is unwaveringly with him even if she doesn’t know all the details. “No, I’m pretty sure this is all on me.”

“Oh, Tim.” Steph wraps her arms around him and holds him tight. “Are you guys done then?”

He sighs into her freshly washed hair. God, he has to stink to high heaven at this point. “I don’t know.”

Steph squeezes him, then draws back, hands still on his arms as she gives him a serious look. “You know what’s going to make you feel better?”

“The ability to rewind the last twelve or so hours?”

“A shower. Go home, Tim. Get cleaned up, and for God’s sake, brush your teeth.”

Tim laughs weakly because what else can he do? He put himself out there and got rejected.

This is why he doesn’t date. It always hurts when things fall apart.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. It takes a few phone calls to get someone out on a Saturday to replace his door, and as soon as that was done, Tim calls it a day. He and Stephanie already have a plan in place to get things back up and running tomorrow, even if it will take at least a week to get a new display case. That’s fine, they can still take the truck out and Tim can set out a tray with a single cupcake of each design for any walk-ins to choose from while keeping the rest in back. They can make this work. Gotham and a broken heart are not going to keep Tim Drake down.

As he walks home in the late afternoon sun, Tim decides to allow himself one night to wallow in his misery. He deserves that much. A quick stop by the store gets him a six pack of his favorite microbrew and he swings by a Chinese restaurant that makes what he swears are the best noodles in town. Literally, since they make their noodles right there.

Properly fortified, Tim brings his prizes home. Another shower and a change of clothes later, he settles onto his sofa to binge watch Netflix. There are some shows he needs to catch up on.

He does not think about Jason. Much.

Three hours later, he’s finished half his stir-fried noodles and three bottles of beer. Sleep sounds like a great idea, lightweight that he is, so Tim manages to put away his food before returning to the sofa where he puts on a BBC nature documentary to fall asleep to.

He cuddles under his afghan and is out in under a minute.

~*~*~

It’s late when Tim wakes up. He feels like he should still be asleep, but something has drawn him out of that sweet oblivion where he doesn’t think about Jason. Everything is quiet, so he decides it must be his faintly hurting head that woke him. Some headache meds and water will fix that, as will sleeping in his bed rather than the living room.

Tim opens his eyes blearily as he sits up. Then he opens them wider and jerks upright, the afghan pooling around his waist.

Standing in front of his muted TV is Batman, outlined by the glow of the screen behind him.

Oh, shit. Why…Oh. Oh. Jason must have told him everything. Of course, he would, the little bomb Tim dropped on him last night impacts everything his family works so hard for. God, how could he have been so thoughtless?

His inner fanboy cowers in the corner of his mind, wailing in fear even though Tim is reasonably certain Batman won’t actually hurt him. Scare the crap out of him, yes. Intimidate him, hell yes. This is very intimidating, yup. Babbling seems like a stupid thing to do right about now, so Tim keeps his mouth shut and waits for Batman to say something.

And waits.

And waits.

Seriously? Is he waiting for Tim to speak up first? He has not had enough sleep for this. Tim shoves the afghan off his lap and swings his legs to the floor. “Would you like some coffee? If you’re just going to stand there, then I’m going to need some.”

Batman doesn’t move. If anything, he frowns harder without even moving his face.

Now there’s a trick Tim would love to learn. He makes his way into the kitchen and flips on the overhead light by the sink to see by. Coffee prep is something he could do in his sleep, so while the little pot is brewing, Tim takes two mugs out of the cabinet and sets them on the counter.

“Do you take cream or sugar?” he calls out, not really expecting an answer.

He doesn’t get one.

Black it is.

Tim pours two cups and returns to the living room. He doesn’t try and hand Batman his cup, but he does place it on the coffee table in front of him before sitting back down on the sofa. This is by far the strangest interview he’s ever been part of. It must be a neat trick, using your reputation to get everything you need to know out of a person without having to say a word.

This could go on all night. “What do you want to know?” Tim asks eventually.

“Start from the beginning.” Batman’s voice is a low growl, one that makes Tim’s throat hurt just listening to it.

So Tim starts there, telling Batman how he met Dick, the promised quadruple somersault, and the tragedy that occurred later. He tells him about how he kept tabs on the former acrobat through the news, that he just wanted to be sure the boy was happy. Then he tells him what happened when he was nine… “I’m not sure there are many people who could have made that connection,” he admits slowly. “I mean, sure, the people at the circus probably can if they ever happen to see Robin, or Nightwing now, do that. But outside of there? I don’t think I would have if I hadn’t been there that night and saw it myself.” As well as everything that happened after, but there’s no need to rehash that again.

“You were very young.”

Tim nods. “I was almost four. My mom always said I have a mind like a steel trap. That when something goes in, it’s not coming out. I think that’s part of the reason why I didn’t forget. I couldn’t, even if I’d wanted to.” He sips his coffee, debating about the next part. This is where he could get into some serious trouble.

Well, this is supposed to be a confession of sorts. And it does feel good to get everything off his chest after holding it so close for years.

“When I figured out who was under Robin’s mask, I decided I needed to see Dick in action again for myself. We lived in the city, and Mom and Dad were never around much, so it was easy to sneak out…” Tim tells Batman about how he used to map his and Robin’s patrol routes, how he would hide and wait half the night for even a glimpse of his hero. As he got better and grew more confident, that was when he started bringing a camera.

If Batman was rigid before, then those words made him even more so.

“Those first photos were horrible,” Tim admits with a wry shake of his head. “It took a lot of practice to learn how to shoot at night, just as it took a lot of trial and error to learn to develop my own pictures because these were not something I wanted to take to the convenience store and have just anyone see. But I got better and by the time I did, there was a new Robin.”

Jason. The Robin he got all the best photos of.

“I took my pictures for a little over three years,” Tim continues. “And then my parents were murdered in a botched kidnapping. My life was turned upside down for a time, but when it became clear that I was going to end up in foster care since I had no family to take me in, I knew I couldn’t keep any of those pictures. I couldn’t risk it, even if no one knows the faces beneath those masks.”

“What did you do?”

“I took them up to the roof of my parent’s townhouse and burned them. Each and every one.” It still hurt, even after a decade and more having passed. But it hurt like ripping off a bandaid hurt, and no longer tore at his soul. “All my negatives, I soaked in bleach.”

Batman gestures to the pictures hanging on the walls. The black and white photos are taken from various angles high above Gotham. “You didn’t stop taking pictures completely.”

Tim shakes his head. “No, but I didn’t take those until I’d graduated from culinary school and had my own place. I like photography, it’s something I’m good at. But it’s a hobby now. A skill I can put to use in my shop for my website.”

“You understand the concerns I have.” It isn’t a question and Tim doesn’t pretend to take it as such.

Still, he knows he’s expected to answer. “I do. Honestly, I wasn’t planning to say a word about this to Jason at all. Until last night, I thought what we had was just a mutually beneficial arrangement between two consenting adults. He’d never given me a reason to believe otherwise.”

“Until last night,” Batman states, echoing Tim’s words. “Why did you tell him this?”

Tim hedges and sips his coffee as he tries to gather his thoughts. For all that opening his mouth had been a mistake, the reason why he did hasn’t changed. On that one fact, he still feels like he’s on solid ground.

“Because last night he said he cares about me. That what keeps him coming back is me.” No need to mention the frosting part. Nope. “I’ve known for a little while now that I like him more than what our arrangement calls for. I figured that if he wants a real relationship, then he has a right to what I know so that he doesn’t have to lie to me when the shit hits the fan or he gets all battered and bruised and needs to cancel plans we’ve made. I can’t imagine it’s easy for anyone who tries to date one of you guys.”

“It isn’t. Especially for someone like you who cannot protect himself.”

The implication is clear as day. Tim tightens his fingers around his warm mug. “I know I’m putting myself in harm’s way if Jason and I keep seeing each other. I know I can be used against him or as a means to hurt him. I know all of this. But isn’t it up to us to decide if that’s a chance we want to take?”

“Yeah, B, stop stickin’ your nose in our business.”

Tim almost spills his coffee as Jason comes striding around from behind the sofa in full Redwing regalia. It’s an impressive sight, from the battered leather jacket to the dark gray uniform underneath that fits him like a glove. How long has he been here? Oh, shit, what has he heard? Tim tells himself to get a grip. Everything he’s said to Batman is stuff he plans to tell Jason, if the other man ever gives him a chance.

He’s here though, so that has to mean something. Right?

Batman doesn’t move, but it’s clear when he turns his attention on his son because that weighted gaze no longer sits like a ton of bricks on Tim. “I am trying to ascertain what this man’s intentions are towards all of us.”

Jason snorts incredulously. “No, you’re trying to be a dad for a change and scare away a potential boyfriend. B, Tim knows and hasn’t said a word to anyone. Do you have any idea how much easier this makes things for me? I don’t have to fucking lie for a change.”

Tim clutches his coffee mug, afraid to make even the slightest of noises for fear of interrupting what is clearly a very important argument. Inside, his heart sings with joy because Jason is fighting with Batman for him. If that’s not a sign from the heavens, he doesn’t know what is.

“What happens if it doesn’t work out?” Batman says to Jason. “Think about the damage Tim can do in a single moment of petty spite.”

“I’d never do that,” Tim interrupts. This is something he has to speak up about. “What you guys do is so much bigger than anything I deal with. You’re important. You all mean something to the world. For however long this lasts between Jason and me, I’m glad to be able to support him in whatever way I can. And when it ends, well, I’ll at least know that for a time, I made him happy. Because I can’t imagine you guys get that a lot.”

Both men turn and stare at Tim, heavy and weighted and wow, this must be the same feeling that makes bad guys quiver in their shoes. But Tim holds firm and doesn’t drop his gaze.

“B, you’re done here,” Jason finally announces. “You got what you came for. Tim won’t spill the beans. Now get out.”

“Redwing—”

“Get outta my business, B. I can either air dirty laundry about you and Catwoman or toss you out that window. Take your pick.”

Batman looms over his son, but Jason is clearly having none of it as he just stares him down. All the long years of exposure must make him immune. Tim finds that impressive because wow. Just wow.

That heavy gaze settles back on him for a moment before Batman walks away without another word, brushing past the sofa towards the window leading out to the fire escape. Tim feels a faint rush of cold air on his neck and then nothing. He turns around to look, just to be sure. The only thing he sees is the faint movement of his cheap window blinds.

“So that’s what being interrogated by Batman feels like.”

Jason snorts and picks up the coffee Batman never even touched. “Sort of. There’s usually a lot more punching and getting tossed off the side of a building involved.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tim feels faint at the thought. Although jumping off the side of a building doesn’t sound too bad if he’s with the right person…kind of like skydiving perhaps.

An awkward silence falls over the room, neither of them seemingly able to start the conversation that needs to happen. Tim fiddles with his mug and steals glances at Jason, who seems lost in thought as he drinks the not-so-warm coffee. What’s going on in his head? How does Jason feel about all this? He apparently likes the idea of him knowing who he is if his statement to Batman was legit.

Tim takes a deep breath and breaks the ice. “How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it. I followed B here and snuck in through your bedroom while he loomed over you like a creepy fuck until you woke up.”

“How long did that take?”

Jason chuckles quietly. “About half an hour. Color me impressed.”

“I may have had a few beers earlier tonight.”

“Lightweight,” Jason teases, but there’s a fondness to it. “You were quite the little stalker once upon a time, weren’t ya?”

Tim nods, feeling steadier now that they’re talking about his past. “I guess you could call it that. At the time though, I was so incredibly lonely that sneaking out for even a glimpse of my heroes was enough to negate the creep factor.”

Jason walks around the coffee table and takes a seat in the recliner. Under the jacket, Tim can just make out the stylized red bat on his broad chest. “You’ve mentioned before that your parents were never around that much.”

“No, they weren’t.” Tim takes a sip from his mug. It’s almost empty. “I had a hard time mourning for people who were never there. I got lucky when I was placed with Grandma Ives. She gets kids in a way I’d never seen before. Probably because she had six of her own, plus over a dozen grandkids. She helped me figure out what my grief was really about and gave me something constructive to do while I worked my way through it.”

“She the one who taught you to bake?”

“Yes.” Tim has many fond memories of Grandma Ives. Perhaps one day, he can introduce Jason to her.

“Did you really take all those pictures of me?” The question seemingly comes out of left field, but Tim has a feeling it’s a precursor to something bigger.

“I did.”

“Is it… Is this the reason you want to be with me?” Jason gestures to his uniform, to the mask he’s still wearing.

Tim is shaking his head before Jason finishes speaking. “No. Not at all. In the beginning, I was shocked that someone like you even spared a glance in my direction. I kept telling myself not to look too deeply into it, to not get attached, that we were both getting something we needed. But when we went out for dinner to that bar, it felt like a date. I wanted it to be a real date so badly that I had to keep reminding myself it wasn’t.”

Jason sighs heavily and leans forward, his solid arms resting on his thickly muscled thighs. “I think of that night as a date. It was all so clear in my head what I was doing, sweeping you off your feet and romancing the crap out of you, but in hindsight, I can see why you believed what you did.” He sounds defeated, which no. No. Tim is not letting this happen.

Standing, Tim sets aside his coffee and kneels in front of Jason, resting his hands over the man’s gloved ones and forcing him to look at him. This close, the lenses in his mask are disconcerting, but Tim knows Jason’s eyes are on him. “We’re both idiots,” he pronounces. “Doing everything ass backwards from the way we should have.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fucked up,” Jason tries, but Tim shushes him.

“Me neither. But I think we have a good reason to want to do this right. If you want to, that is.” Tim trails off, his momentary boldness tapering into uncertainty.

Jason grabs hold of his hands, holding them firmly in his gloved ones. “I want to. Christ, I want to. But the risks…Tim, already the thought of something happening to you hurts like hell. If we go further…”

Tim raises their joined hands and presses a kiss into the material of Jason’s gloves. “I understand. Just know that I’m willing to take those risks. But really, the choice is yours, not mine. What you do, who you are…it’s all so much bigger than just me.” His confidence shocks him, even if it is nice to know he can bring it out when he needs to, despite the less than stellar circumstances.

“I need some time to think.”

“I respect that.” Tim tries to stand, but Jason rises along with him and draws him in close, pressing his forehead against the top of Tim’s head.

“Tim, this isn’t good-bye. I will let you know what I decide. And in person because you deserve that much, even if it’s not what either of us want.”

It’s more than Tim can reasonably expect. “I appreciate it.”

Jason pulls back a bit and runs his fingers over Tim’s cheeks, seemingly memorizing the planes of his face. “I’ll see you soon.” He leans in and presses a brief kiss against Tim’s mouth.

And then he’s gone, vanishing into the night.

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #JayTim #Bakery!AU

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redrobin-detective · 7 years

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I'm a writer and I've gotten a couple complaints that my characterization/psychological state is off. I was wondering if maybe you could give me a little synopsis/character analysis of the main Batfam? Especially Bruce, Damian, and Tim? Those are the ones I'm weakest with. I've looked to many of your answers for more information on the characters and I just want to thank you for being so in depth!!!

It’s hard man and, wow, thank you for the compliment but I’mnot perfect either. With Batman there’s so much history and variability that Icherry pick the parts I like best and combine them to create the ‘ideal’character for my tastes. So keep that in mind, there’s no one right answer.

Bruce- Bruce is one of the most caring people you will evermeet. Such a big heart that loves super intensely. But he’s afraid and he’svery damaged from his experiences. He has all this love but he a) doesn’t knowhow to healthily express it and b) is afraid to acknowledge/express hisemotions for fear of being hurt again. So he comes across as kind of a coldjerk a lot of times. But as he adopts his children (big heart again) he reallydoes make and effort and does as much as he’s capable. He messes up, a lot, buthe still cares. The mission is the most important thing, just slightly behindhis family enough even he forgets sometimes. Motivated and obsessed, hesometimes pushes himself and his feelings too far with consequences.

Dick- Outwardly very bright and cheery, happy and full ofhope and love. It’s one trait he maintains but as tragedies continue in hislife, he hides of that away and instead puts up the mask of a goofball tocompensate. Refuses to be like Bruce but sometimes acts like him anyway. Such apeople person, can make friends in an instant. Observant and caring, sometimesa little overconfident and patronizing but he means well. Being a bigbrother/mentor is very important to him, he loves trying to help out thoseyounger than him to avoid repeating his mistakes. Wracked with guilt and griefand anger that he keeps bottled up cause he hates those negative emotions butthey manifest and cause lots of damage cause he never learned to deal withthem. While he seems easygoing, he’s very stubborn and hardworking and wouldmove literal mountains for those he loves.

Babs- Barb was a very cynical, mature young woman who becameBatgirl as a fuck you to her dad for not letting her join the police force.Eventually she came to love the thrill and intellectual challenge and doinggood. But she grows up and decides Batgirl is a child’s thing and puts it awayjust before her accident. The accident changed her, once a sassy but playfulknow-it, now she’s bitter and angry at her circumstances. It’s unfair whathappened and she broods in her loss, lashes out and pushed people away. Onceshe realizes that she’ll never not miss her legs, she moves on. She’s harsher,more cutting but she’s got her life back and she won’t let her paralysis defineher. Forms the BOP, works with Batman and makes a real difference as Oracle.She’s still angry a lot, bitter but she’s learned to work through it, channelher feelings into positive manners. She’s warm and comforting to those underher wing, an unofficial mom/big sister but a vicious storm to those she fights.

Jason- Jason was a street rat from day one. He grew up incrime alley with a criminal father and an addict mother, he learned to be toughand survive and fight dirty. But despite everything, he still avoided doingmuch crime himself and maintained a good heart. Despite this he has angerissues and insecurities and fears of being just what everyone said he was.Death didn’t help. The Pit scrambled his head, amplified his negative traitsand made him a bit crazy for a while. It calmed down eventually but he’d made alot of enemies and he didn’t regret too much. Through that all, he still caresfor people though, all his murders are done to save people. He’s still bitterwith the batfam, angry about being replaced but he’s tentatively working hisway back in. It’s not easy and they’ll never truly be on good terms, he’s adarker hero now and the Pit still influences him, but he wears the Bat and thatcounts for something.

Tim- Tim’s parents were away a lot as a child so he neverreally developed any bonds. He grew up quiet and alone, honing his intelligencefor lack of anything better to do and a bone deep understanding that he wasn’timportant or worthy of love. He love B&R, looked up to them as heroessaving the city, being important was lowkey obsessed as lonely kids are. Hetook over as Robin, unwillingly at first but then he saw it as an opportunity todo some good in his life, help people. He didn’t think he’d last. As a Robin hewas quiet and contemplative, always hung back and observed rather than jumpingin. Prone to depression and extreme anxiety. Probably the closest to B butstill very warm and friendly, he put everyone else before himself. He gainedsome confidence and grew into himself. When things turned bad, Tim nearlycrumbled. His eternal hope and optimism was darkened and made smaller. It madehim harsher, more willing to bend, not break, the rules. He became more self-reliantbecause people let him down and he won’t make that mistake again. Bitter still,but underneath he’s still that lonely boy who just wanted to help but he coversit with meticulously plans and calculated moves.

Cass- It took Cass a while to learn how to be a personinstead of a weapon. She hated herself and what she’d done (been forced to do)as a child. She was wandering, aimless until Batman found her and gave her backher purpose. Batgirl is so fulfilling for her, to use her skills for goodinstead of hurting people. She’s very kind, she doesn’t want to hurt but shealso will fight against those who do wrong. Very out of touch with culture andpeople in general, especially because she can’t read/write and doesn’t speakwell either. It makes her feel isolated but she tries to move past that. Very curious,loves to explore new things and meet people. Confident in herself but like haveyou seen Cass, she’s every bit as skilled as she insinuates. Loves her newfamily to death would do anything for them. Falls in love with beauty, sheloves dance because it’s a chance to use her natural body reading and movementsto make something beautiful instead of deadly.

Stephanie- Steph is a bit of a wild child, a normal kid but incrediblybrazen, even more so than most teens. When she starts as Spoiler, she reallydidn’t understand the risks and what she was getting into. But as she gotdeeper into the hero gig, she learned how treacherous and demanding it is butshe fell in love with the rush and feeling of accomplishment and also Robin.She wanted to be helpful too, she wanted to feel important and on top becausefor all of her life, she’s just been Cluemaster’s stupid kid. Bubbly but not tothe point of ignorance. She’s happy because she chooses to be and not let theworld drag her down. But it covers a bitter mean steak. Has a mean punch andwill take down anyone threatening or demeaning her. She’s angry at her dad, atTim, at Bruce, at Gotham for how things went down. But she took a page fromBarbara’s book and squared her shoulders, looked her troubles in the eye andsaid fuck off. Very open and playful because if she gives in to all thehardships in her life, that would feel too much like losing.

Damian- Damian was raised a killer but, more importantly, hewas raised to be Batman’s downfall and to eventually become Ra’s vessel. He’sarrogant and rude and doesn’t think he needs anyone. But time with the Batstells him that he doesn’t know everything and the way he was raised wasn’t thebest thing. Dick absolutely changes him; he looks up so much to the acrobat andactively tries to change for him. But changing comes naturally, he develops hiscompassion and builds a relationship within the family and a connection withRobin. He really comes to enjoy this new family and life but he’s insecure andterrified that it will all get taken away: Robin and his family and he’ll besent back to the League. He’s afraid that no one will see that he’s changed or,worse, that he really hasn’t. Covers his fears with sass and false bravado, ‘fakingit until making it’ so to speak. He’s still angry and more violent but he’sworking hard against those ingrained ideas. Feels a strong connection withanimals because they trust him and don’t judge him for his past. Awkwardlyformal and uncomfortable with people, especially kids. He was never allowed tobe a kid himself so he’s very mature but also aching for love and attention.

Also throwing in this bad boy for relationships between the fam, hope that helps!

#batman asks #character meta

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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tremsing82 replied to your post:

Feeling a mood to write some...

I would love for Jason to find out about Bruce’s abuse to Dick. Like Jason is from a abusive household and after he returned as red hood Bruce didn’t hold back but for Jason to find out the abuse Dick received from Bruce outside of the mask would be interesting to read.

This won’t be a prompt I use for this, solely because this is actually a BIG thing with me, and something that pops up a lot in various of the longer projects I work on off and on in my spare time. Mostly in a series of one-shots that are meant as a BFTC fix-it, that pretty much revolves around the idea of Dick and Jason eventually reconciling in the aftermath of Bruce’s perceived death, and bonding over the idea that they’re pretty much the only two people in the world who knew Bruce the way they did - at both his best and his worst.

How to grieve for someone who at times you both loved and hated, who helped you and who hurt you, who was everything you wanted to be and everything you never wanted to be, all at the same time, at different times, at the strangest times.

So Jason finding out about the things Bruce has done to Dick, like in NTT #55, is of course a central part of that, as is Dick finding out the specifics of what happened between Bruce and Jason in UTRH (because I firmly and forever believe that Dick has zero idea about the batarang to the neck, just like I have trouble seeing any way in which Dick would have known about RHATO #25 before being shot and not had a serious reaction with Bruce). To me, a huge central part of these two brothers’ conflict in specific, is this perception they both have (with valid reasons) that the other has at various points had a relationship with Bruce that they would kill for.....even while being perfectly aware that at other times, their relationship has been nonexistent.

But these specific actions of Bruce would inevitably be the cold shock of reality to them both, because I firmly believe this is the thing they could never explain away or justify to themselves.....they can reconcile the idea of Bruce hurting them on specific occasions, and not deem it abuse even as intimately acquainted as they are with the realities of abuse given everything they’ve lived, seen, and fought against in others....because they don’t want to accept that Bruce is capable of that, that they’re capable of....’submitting’ to that, so to speak, without leaving him behind...a huge part of them needs to keep him on a pedestal even when they’re furious at him. He played such a large role in shaping their lives in ways that they are grateful for that they have trouble juggling that with this perception of him too.

And due to their own individual self-esteem issues and negative self-perceptions (as well as desperate need for his approval, even when they vehemently deny they need or want it)....they’ve always been largely able to justify to themselves, or explain away his worst treatment of them.....but only so long as they’ve been able to convince themselves it was just them. That Bruce was only this way with them.

Because one of Dick and Jason’s commonalities is that their self-deprecation is only the equivalent of their willingness to throw themselves under the knife for someone they care about, and that their negative self-perceptions are constantly being reinforced with what they perceive as additional evidence that various others are better than them. Do deserve more than them. Don’t deserve to suffer the things they’ve suffered. So IMO, my take has always been that Dick and Jason deep down love Bruce and the specific image of him they want and at times even need him to be....to such an extent that they can justify or explain away most anything he does to them at his worst....but I don’t believe for a second that either of them could ever do that if confronted with some of Bruce’s worst behavior with the other, or someone else they cared about.

So, the illusion born of their best memories of Bruce and that has so much to do with their inability to call him out on his shit even when faced with the reality of him in their worst memories of him.....can only hold, so long as they’re both one hundred percent convinced that it was just them. No one else. Because they must have deserved it. But that’s not an argument they’d ever make for anyone else, especially not one of their brothers.

But yeah, so this is a topic that as you can see, I’ve thought a lot about, lol, so its definitely something I’ve written about in depth in various WIPs that will at some point see the light of day (I’m posting WIP-phobic these days, due to uh....several years between updates on various published WIPs). Like I said, mostly the BFTC fix-it fic, but it pops up in various other things as well. There though, it has a super large presence because I personally can’t imagine all of that not coming up in their grieving processes for Bruce, because as much as most of us would like to romanticize deceased loved ones at all times, and never think of them without rose-colored glasses on, I can only draw upon my own experiences and its been mine that this isn’t always true, even when you really, truly and deeply love the person in question. Grief is an ugly, messy process, and it dredges up a lot. You’re often confronted with everything you don’t want to remember every bit as much as the stuff you fight to hold on to.

So I’ve always really wanted to tackle that, as well as the dichotomy of being an abused kid who loves their abuser as much as he hates them, because with parents its just not as simple as pretending that the good emotions don’t exist, or ignoring the memories that truly are positive and had a positive influence on you and who you became, the parts you’re genuinely grateful to them for and wouldn’t want to imagine being without, even if you could. Its not easy to love some people, but its no easier to hate them, and to me, that’s Bruce and his relationship with his two eldest in particular, to like a T.

Plus, I’ve always really liked the idea of exploring what kind of relationship Dick and Jason could have if these two brothers whose relationship at so many points has been largely at a distance and based off hearsay or imagined beliefs....like, in the aftermath of a tragedy like this, only finally started to really get to know who the other was, as adults, once the illusions they’d both been clinging to about their varying relationships with Bruce was finally stripped away. Also, I really wanted to explore the family dynamics that would result from the two of them specifically, with their contentious relationships with Bruce at some of his worse moments...like, forming a united front to kind of ‘protect’ Cass, Tim and Damian’s perceptions of Bruce, because for the most part at that point in time Bruce was still their hero, for all intents and purposes. Tim hadn’t yet IMO truly been disillusioned with Bruce at that point, Cass certainly hadn’t, and Damian might not have perceived things in the same way the others had, even if he had been fully aware of everything, but Bruce to him at that point was still kind of...a larger than life, mythic kind of figure.

And I wanted to delve into the idea of Bruce’s two eldest children, who perhaps deep down wished that they had been left with just their cherished childhood memories of him and never had to remember the times that made them feel disillusioned with their father, like....the two of them acting in concert to kinda...protect their younger siblings’ own various cherished views of their dad, like....I just see that as being something very important to them, for reasons they’re not entirely clear on (or perhaps just don’t want to examine too closely).

Plus, of course, Bruce eventually returns as we all know, so.....holy conflicting emotions, Batfam.

But you’re absolutely right that Jason does and will have a LOT of thoughts and a lot to say on the subject of NTT #55′s events, both to Dick, to Bruce eventually, his therapist, etc.

Because not only does Jason NOT like the idea of his second father having abused his elder brother at all, to any degree, for any reason.....

You better fucking believe it that IMO, Jason Peter Todd has a fucking LOT to say about their dad using HIM, the child he ‘saved’ from an abusive home, as his EXCUSE to abuse his other child.

"Oh, I’m sorry, you were so fucked up about your previously-abused-kid dying that you thought a good way to handle it would be to abuse your other kid so that maybe when one day he died too, he and I would finally have some things to talk about? Yeah I think the fuck not, Pops!”

Anyway. Like I said. I obviously will not be expanding on that particular topic at this point in time.

Obviously.

Not even a little bit.

#abuse cw

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