so i was reading wolf king and you mention jason having a jersey accent and i wanted to ask.......what accent does dick have? he's french and was raised travelling around europe (thank u for french dick btw i'm obsessed), and then was raised by bruce and alfred, and then lived with the titans a lot as a teenager (some of whom i guess sound american and some of whom don't). where does this leave his accent. i deeply need to hear your opinion about this
this is such a great q so im gonna hijack it a lil and talk about how the bats hide their identities in different ways — like with the voice modulators, i don’t believe they’d be walking around with their real voices fighting crime
so kevin conroy kickstarted the trend of bruce having a voice and then batman having a voice. which is a good cinematic take, tbc, but i think he had it backwards. bruce as batman has a naturally deep, rumbling timbre, and bruce as socialite brucie wayne is higher pitched and more energetic — think a cross between pauly d and zach braff. bruce normally talks with distinct british influences. super clear vowel pronunciation.
by that same token, i think dick deffo still has an accent, but obviously puts on a generic “american” accent while in costume. his normal cadence would be an interesting combination of stuff. like u mentioned, he spent a lot of time around alfred and donna and kory so that definitely affected the way that he speaks. i think baseline…. he sounds a bit like marion cotillard? very subtle inflection, with some british intonation mixed in. kind of indistinct, like you’d clock him as vaguely european. he might make it more pronounced to distinguish himself from nightwing.
jason, tim, steph, and duke would all have distinct gotham accents, but deciding whether u want them to sound more philly or more ny is kinda up to interpretation ig. im not an expert. jason’s accent has probably changed over time — profound brain damage and extended period abroad will do that, but i imagine he leans into it heavily around his allies to emphasise his identity as a gothamite. depending on canon, babs would have an ohio accent and because she was a very influential figure to cass, cass would probably have that same weird collection of intonations — british, variations of east coast, etc.
if we’re going off on-screen depictions of the al-ghuls, damian would have an rp accent that would probably soften a little after his time in gotham. tim and duke probably sound similar, and steph might fall between them and jason. in my heart, the joker sounds like snooki.
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Happy WIP Wednesday friends! Not a huge deal for you today, but I figured I’d drop the Flashback and give you the last piece in the “Bruce Puts His Head In His Butt” for the night!
(Bruce is tranq’ed by Alfred minutes after the call ends and is put to bed. In my heart. He might actually walk himself up but we all know it’s Alfred’s glare that makes it happen)
Just a taste of chapter 14 of Dead and Loving It, you can find the fic on AO3 or from my pinned post which is the latest chapter, but links to the first and all subsequent chapters are in each post!
———————
A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence
Jason was actually on his way to bed on time for once in his life, the early end to patrol and lack of crime lord duties giving him a chance to get a full five hours sleep.
He should have known he wouldn’t get lucky two nights in a row; Constantine wasn’t around to distract Bruce anymore.
He’d contemplated not answering. Contemplated trying not to shoot Bruce in half an hour if the fucker showed up at his window.
The pit growled.
It was the worst thing he’d ever heard. The worst thing he’d ever felt. And he did feel it, vibrating in his very bones.
It sent shivers creeping up and down, muscles tensing as if to run away from something inside him.
He answered the call, hoping it wouldn’t show in his voice.
“What.” Flat, unfriendly. Not encouraging conversation.
“You didn’t come to the cave.” B’s voice was equally flat, but in his case it sounded like a condemnation. An accusation.
Jason gritted his teeth.
“I have shit to do in the morning. Make it quick,” he snapped, giving his bed a glare it definitely didn’t deserve.
His pillows had never done anything to hurt him.
There was a momentary pause before B audibly decided not to push it.
Good.
Jason was in a mood to bite.
“We have intel on the Infinite Realms. I’ve sent the report. You need to stay away from Danny Fenton, for your health,” B said, still cold, still clinical.
Like he didn’t care. Like what Jason wanted didn’t matter.
Jason’s grip tightened and the phone case cracked.
“Yeah, no. Fuck off.” He spat the words, adding “get new phone” to his list of chores for the morning.
He’d been doing so well with this one. Of course Bruce had to ruin it.
At least the old man didn’t seem surprised by his reaction.
“Jason. It… he. His abilities may affect your condition,” he said slowly, sounding tired. Old.
The pit snarled, sensing weakness, and Jason kinda wished he was still lost in its rage. Back when he was, it was easy just to hate those moments.
B showing signs of humanity fucking hurt.
“He is. He’s making it better,” he shot back, brooking no argument.
“We don’t know that, Jason. Please, just… just for a few days. Until we can talk to the League, understand what he’s doing to you.”
Was.
Was that Bruce begging?
It froze something small and soft in Jason’s chest, stuck him in place. And did nothing to stop the flood of icy rage from filling him up.
Filling his chest, crushing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Because of course, anyone and everyone else’s judgement was worth more to the man than Jason’s.
Begging Jason to listen to him, when he would never, ever, fucking ever listen to Jason. When it didn’t fucking matter if Jason begged.
“And why the fuck would the League know better than a doctor from the Realms?” He finally snapped, ignoring the way his throat tightened.
There was a long silence.
“A doctor?” Bruce asked softly, his voice still so flat and emotionless that only his kids could have read the confusion. Jason rolled his eyes.
“Danny brought me to a doctor. I’m gonna be fine,” he ground out reluctantly, part of him resenting Bruce’s constant insistence on knowing everything.
But… well. If it got the guy off his fucking back.
There was a long silence, one that Jason was fully aware B was likely spending working this new information into his latest paranoid fantasy.
Jason seriously considered just hanging up and going to bed. He was about to do it when Bruce spoke again.
“Would this doctor be willing to speak to the League?” And there it was again, Batman voice, clinical and distant and always, always fucking suspicious.
Jason rolled his eyes harder. With emphasis. Willing to be interrogated by first the Justice League and then separately also goddamn Batman.
Actually, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure B wouldn’t get anywhere with Frostbite. Frostbite took his work seriously and was, yeah, king of a full realm of yetis.
None of Bruce’s pointed silences, menacing looming, or vague growls would bug the guy who got Danny through Fucked Up Ghost Puberty.
(And would probably be helping Jason through his own Fucked Up Ghost Puberty… joy of joys.)
It might actually be fun to see him try. If just being here wouldn’t put Frostbite in danger, because hell fucking no that wasn’t happening. The guy may not be his king but Jason would still die first.
But of course, in all his paranoid bullshit about the Realms influencing Gotham, B had somehow conveniently missed what America was doing to the Realms.
Like Jason hadn’t even done the full write up.
“Not while the fucking League are required to hand him right to the US government for torture and experimentation. Which, by the way, did you read my report on the Anti Ecto Acts?” Jason asked sarcastically, doing his very worst fake concern.
And again he was met with silence. Fuck, maybe Bruce hadn’t read it. Jason had dropped it in the day before all this gala bullshit had started, and it had been a busy two days since.
Maybe B deadass hadn’t put the pieces together. Might as well hammer it home for him.
“You know, the one that says you, me, Cass, and Damian are all non-sentient because we’ve been exposed to the pits?” Jason added, eyes narrowing.
Which wasn’t technically true, since it was the resulting liminality and ability to process ectoplasm that made them count, but Bruce didn’t need to know that yet.
Finally he spoke again, voice gruff and clipped.
“I’m looking into it. But for now, Jason, please-” he said again, the cover of Batman beginning to slip.
But Jason was done. No fucking chance Bruce was giving him orders when he hadn’t even bothered asking for Jason’s opinion.
He wanted to spout off about dangers of the Infinite Realms after talking to some wet paper bag of a man who hawked his soul like it was a pokemon card. Hard pass.
And even after hearing that Jason knew what was going on a damn sight better than Bruce did, he still wanted to push him around?
Fuck that.
“Sorry B, legally non-sentient, guess I can’t be blamed for my actions,” he drawled, then turned his phone off and dropped into bed.
He had a lot of shit to do before picking Danny up in the morning.
——————-
Jason will be using “legally non-sentient” as an excuse long after the laws themselves are repealed, and just you fucking wait until Damian hears he can try it too 😏
Sorry Bruce, Damian can’t socialize today, he’s legally non-sentient and can’t be blamed if he bites someone
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