#and the giving up at the first sign of pushback from whoever's around them

[monthofsick]

Day 6 - Post-Adrenaline Puke

fandom - SHINee

sickee - Onew

caretaker - mostly Key

summary - After a stage filming and a stressful schedule, Onew pukes in the car ride to a photo shoot.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: emeto, stress, overwork, motion sickness, real person fiction

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53746774

If this is too late, I'm sorry 😭

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #19

#19. “Does your life revolve around embarrassing me?”

“Aaron, I need a favor.”

His boss, Rich, catches him as he’s arriving for the day, shuffling a few piles of papers on his desk as he waits for the clock to strike 8. Not a moment before, not a moment after, he thinks. Their shifts are carefully timed, every minute on the clock accounted for. The budget is tight; Aaron’s heard the rumors, questioning of why Ambassador Prentiss needs the amount of security she has. Whispers of cuts have become more and more frequent over the last few weeks. He’s grateful to still have a full schedule of shifts. Others haven’t been as lucky.

“Sir?” Aaron asks as evenly as he can. It’s about to be a long day and from what he’s learned in the months of working there, visits from Ambassador Prentiss’s head of security typically entail some special assignment, one he didn’t sign up for, but is volun-told for. “Is there something you needed?” He knows he shouldn’t ask, but he needs a good letter of recommendation when he ultimately puts in his two weeks sooner rather than later. He has his eyes on something a bit more ambitious, potentially the FBI. He’s already started the grueling application process.

“A big favor.” Rich sounds slightly out of breath, as if he ran the whole way to his office, judging by his red face. He looks annoyed, his face a little pinched, etched with a few more lines than it had the first time they met. Aaron still isn’t quite sure what makes his job so stressful - the Ambassador’s residence runs like clockwork, and now that it’s fall and things have settled down, it’s been relatively quiet.

“I need you to drive to New Haven this morning. I’d ask Harris to do it, but he called off sick and we’re short-staffed already.” It’s the way he says it that Aaron knows he just learned the news too, as if trying to coordinate logistics in his own head.

New Haven. Fuck, Aaron thinks, briefly closing his eyes. What he wants to say is Harris called off for a bachelor party in Ocean City and to find someone else. Instead, he sinks into his desk chair, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. Driving to New Haven can only mean one thing, and while he’s almost certain no one knows what happened over the summer, he can never be too sure. “New Haven, Sir? This morning?” He glances at the calendar on the wall - shit. It’s the coming weekend before Thanksgiving -more traffic is all but a given, and it also means Emily will be home for almost a full week.

Then he remembers he’s scheduled to work doubles most of the holiday week.

Great.

“Ambassador Prentiss called me to her office an hour ago. She’s asking that Emily be driven home from Yale tonight. I don’t know the details, but she was pretty persistent that one of us would go up there and get her. My guess is she got into some kind of trouble, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Aaron tries to hide his annoyance, and more so the slight tug of worry in the pit of his stomach. “What are you talking about? What kind of trouble?” He does the math in his head - it’s  a five hour drive to Connecticut without traffic. There and back will be at least a twelve hour day, if not more.

“I don’t want to speculate, but the last time this happened, she got caught underage in a bar and nearly got arrested. We never found out exactly what happened, but from what I heard, it wasn’t good.”

Aaron grimaces; it’s exactly like Emily’s mother to sweep something like that under the rug and completely ignore the bigger issue at hand. From what he’s learned, it’s been a familiar pattern for years.

“The Ambassador approved time and a half for whoever makes the trip. I know you said you need the -”

“I’ll do it,” Aaron says quickly before he can think too much about the circumstances, wondering just what could be so pressing at such a last minute.  His situation with Emily is complicated, one that should have never even become a thing in the first place. But it did, and even three months after she’d left, she remains at the forefront of his mind most days, a constant reminder of those hot summer nights in mid July.

There’d been nights at his apartment and early mornings in her room; behind closed doors he’d fallen for her. She’d careened into his world completely unexpected, a welcomed change from his familiar pattern of soft-spoken, yet well-intentioned blondes. Emily was the exact opposite. There had been secret meetings tucked amongst the endless gardens, dinners in dive bars and a few trips to nicer restaurants under the city lights when his paycheck allowed.  It was exhilarating and all consuming until it wasn’t, when it all came to a screeching halt a few weeks later.

They haven’t talked since the night before left for New Haven. The night ended with an argument, along with tears (hers) and a ridiculous sense of guilt (his) as he dropped her off just outside the gates of the mansion. Yet she’d been the one to end it, explaining through thinly veiled frustration that it just wouldn’t work, that everything would change and none of this could continue. His pushback had only angered her, his attempts to assure her it could in fact work fell on deaf ears. And as she’d all but fled from his car, it was fear he saw in her face. Fear of possibility for what could be.

All of this, along with their months of silence, means he’s probably the last person she’ll expect to see outside her door. Aaron has a feeling she isn’t quite prepared for what is about to be a very unexpected visit. What he also knows is that neither is he.

…

It’s been awhile since he stepped foot on a college campus, and he doesn’t exactly blend in wearing a full suit and dark sunglasses in a sea of jeans and sweatshirts. He ignores the stares he gathers from the small groups of students all over the campus, finding her building with relative ease.

He nods a thanks to the girl holding the door open, quickening his pace just a little. She gives him a once over, lifting an eyebrow at his attire. “Campus security is the other way, you know. You look a little lost.”

“I’m in the right place,” he retorts quickly, brushing past her and up to the third floor. As he climbs the stairs with a slight burn in his lungs from the exertion, Aaron remembers Emily complaining about that three story climb over the summer, and the memory of her, warm in his arms, almost makes him smile. Almost. But she most likely has no idea he’s coming; it’s impossible to tell what her reaction will be. Anger? Indifference? But by now he’s standing outside her door, and it’s too late to turn back.

Aaron knocks three times, crisp and precise, then waits a few perfunctory moments. No answer. He knocks again, this time a little more insistent, and he hears a soft grunt, a muffled voice from behind the door. What he doesn’t expect is what he sees when the door swings open. A guy, about her age give or take, blinks away the confusion from his eyes, his defenses rising immediately. He’s clearly not expecting visitors, and Aaron, half expecting him to close the door in his face, briefly wonders if he has the right room.

319. It’s right, and this just got significantly more awkward, even as a small bubble of jealousy rises in his throat, one that takes him by surprise. “Who the hell are you?” Aaron asks, instinctively propping the door open with his foot.

“Name’s Rob.” There’s a cigarette in his hand; the room smells like an ashtray and slightly of stale wine, even though it’s the middle of the day. He flicks his eyes over Aaron’s suit and scoffs with an air of arrogance. “What are you, some kind of cop or something?”

“I’m here for -”

“Aaron? What are you doing here?” Emily suddenly pops up behind Rob out of nowhere, looking just as surprised, and slightly embarrassed as realization dawns on her face. “Tell me my mother did not send you here.”

Rob visibly tenses at the mention of the Ambassador. “Your mom’s got the cops chasing you now? I thought you said she wouldn’t find out about  -”

Emily’s cheeks flush as she rolls her eyes, taking a sideways look at Aaron. “He’s not a cop, Rob. He just works for her.”

“Basically the same thing, right? You said she basically had her own secret service. You know this guy?”

“Yeah,” Emily sighs with frustration. “I know him.”

Aaron shifts from foot to foot, staring between them both. Being here suddenly feels invasive; he wishes he would have never said yes to this in the first place. It’s clear nothing has changed between Emily and her mother, and everything has changed between the two of them. She’s clearly moved on. Maybe it’s best to make this as detached as possible - a business transaction, no emotions or feelings. “I’m your ride home. Start packing.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Emily narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Just following orders.” He scans the room - the counter is littered with empty cans and cups, a deck of cards strewn over the desk in a corner, an ashtray full of cigarettes. “How soon do you think you can be ready to leave?”

“Leave? What about tonight?” Rob cuts in. “Brian and Dan got bottle service tonight. I thought you were going to bring that hot friend of yours. Dan wants to meet her.”

“Bottle service?” Aaron says incredulously, wishing he could wipe the smirk off Rob’s face. “You do know she’s underage, right?” He doesn’t have to look at Emily to know that is enough to set her off, and she shoots him a look that could cut glass.

“Listen man,” Rob begins, swaying on his feet. “I don’t know who you are but -”

“I’m  the guy who's going to kick you out-” Aaron begins tersely.

“Just go, Rob. Please just … go.” Emily snaps, presses her fingertips to her eyes, the heat rising to her face like two blood red stains on her cheeks. “I’ll … I’ll call you once I figure this out. Just go without me.”

“Or just ditch your babysitter.” He scoffs but still leans in closer, all but towering over her. Aaron doesn’t miss the way Emily recoils when Rob kisses her cheek. He reminds him of the type of guy who would go from her room straight into another girl’s without a second thought, say all the same things and no one will be the wiser. But the door shuts, leaving them alone for the first time in months. Aaron shoves his hands in his suit pockets and stares out the window as Emily sneers.

“Does your life revolve around embarrassing me now?”  she huffs, looping her hair behind her ear, shoes obnoxiously clunking against the floor as pulls a suitcase from under her bed. “Because if so, you’re doing a real bang-up job.”

“No. My job,” he says, placing emphasis on the word, “is getting you back home like I was ordered to do.”

“So they sent you this time?” She sighs, dumping some empty cups into the trash. “Why am I not surprised?” It’s mid afternoon but she looks exhausted, and Aaron wonders if she even got any sleep at all the night before.

“I’m just following orders,” he says again, following her with his eyes as Emily starts tossing clothes into a bag. There’s no thought to her packing process; she opens drawers and slams them shut, pulling out clothes with a little too much force.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks a little more softly this time, keeping space between them both.

“No.”

As expected.

“You can tell me, you know.”

“Nothing happened,” she says crisply, zipping her suitcase shut. But she doesn’t look at him, which confirms that something definitely happened.

“Then why am I here?”

“Aaron,” Emily says almost teasingly, as if any memory of the last time they spoke has seemingly evaporated from her mind. “This is certainly not the first time my mother has sent one of you up here to come get me for some reason or another. It certainly won’t be the last.”

“Seems like an awful lot of trouble for her to go to.” From the tone of his voice it’s clear he doesn’t believe her, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“You have met her right? The only person my mother cares about is herself. And her career. She doesn’t care who else is inconvenienced by that.”

He can’t argue with her, and decides to drop it for the time being. There’s a five hour car ride awaiting them; plenty of time to peel her walls down. “If we don’t leave soon we’re going to hit rush hour,” he says patiently, checking his watch. “The sooner we get back, the better.”

She’s quiet for a few minutes, finishing the last of her packing. But finally Emily meets his stare, and for the first time since he arrived, offers a smile. “It’s good to see you, Aaron.”

This time, he almost believes her.

...

“So, who’s your friend?” Aaron asks casually, a half hour into their five hour trip. She’s hardly said a word since taking the passenger seat; her only request was to stop at the gas station for coffee and a pile of sugary candy that she’s started to work her way through. “Rob?”

His question gets the shortest of laughs from Emily as she tips her sunglasses down her nose. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.” Yet she gives nothing else, and he knows he has to push her a little harder.

“He’s kind of an ass,” Aaron says without taking his eyes off the road. “You hang around him a lot?”

“Why?” She challenges, less out of anger rather than amusement. She’s known this question was coming since the minute she saw him standing in the door. “Are you jealous or something?”

He says nothing, only turns his head to stare at her. “Answer my question.”

“Sometimes.” Emily picks at the seam of a bag of peach rings, her eyes on her lap. “You’re not wrong, though, in your assessment.”

“And yet you still hang around him?” He doesn’t bother to hide the distaste in his voice. “Seems like bad news. Is he the reason why I’m here?”

“You’re worried,” she says quietly, crossing and recrossing her legs. “I can tell.”

“Of course I’m worried, Emily. I’m fucking worried to say the least. Can you blame me?”

“You shouldn’t. It’s under control.” Her silence is telling, an indicator that the conversation is over as she pointedly turns to face the window. Aaron swallows in frustration, knowing he pushed a little too far.

Connecticut turns into New York, the miles already starting to blend together in the tense quiet. As the traffic thickens and the SUV comes to a stop, the George Washington bridge looming in the distance, Emily speaks for the first time in more than an hour.

“Aaron?” She says hesitantly, her bottom lip between her teeth with worry. “Can you keep a secret?”

[amazingflyingdick]

all that glitters.

WHO: Dick Grayson (@amazingflyingdick), Jason Todd (@thatsjasonfkntodd), & mentions of Slade Wilson (@terminator-deathstroke) WHERE: Dick’s apartment WHEN: Backdated to October 10th WHAT: Dick opens up a little more about Slade and convinces Jason to play Truth or Dare.

JASON: Jason was not a meddler. He often left people to deal with their own shit, as he wanted to be allowed to do, but there were moments when there was such an obvious window where he could do something that he couldn’t not do it. It wasn’t meddling, then. It was just taking something that he’d learned and using it. And he’d learned about Dick. Otherwise, what had all those fucking conversations been for?

Still, he’d given it a few days. Maybe he had shaken himself out of it, somehow, and bucked the idea that if you did the same thing a hundred times you’d get a different result on the hundred-and-first. The radio silence from Dick that was still going on days later said otherwise, though.

To his credit, he tried the door like a normal person. He knocked, he rang the bell, he heard Sasha bark once on the other side and the excited huffhuff as she sniffed beneath the door. Dick didn’t answer or say anything, even under threat of burglary. Maybe he didn’t believe him, maybe he didn’t hear him, but either way Jason followed through. He’d been breaking into houses and apartments since before he’d hit puberty - that apartment door didn’t stand a chance.

In a minute, he had it open and was nudging Sasha back. “I’m the one who leaves people on ‘Read,’ dude.”

DICK: Dick knew Tim and Jason both had good intentions when they showed up at his apartment to talk to him. It wasn't their fault that he was still trapped in his head, reliving conversations over and over, and struggling to understand what he must have overlooked. 

When he heard someone at the door, he didn’t bother getting up to answer it. That wasn't unusual. He heard a couple knocks throughout the day, but he never responded to whoever was on the other side, even when they tried to talk to him through the door. This time he heard Jason's voice and he frowned, but ultimately decided to stay where he was. He'd gotten a box down from his closet and was going through it on the bed.

Then he heard the door open and, while he wasn't that surprised that Jason made good on his threat to break in, it made him realize he must want to see him regardless of what he would see. Breathing in slowly, Dick got up from the bed and went to the doorway of his bedroom. He'd taken a shower, but he was still wearing clothes someone would sleep in. What was the point of getting dressed if he didn't have plans to go anywhere? "Sorry, my... my phone died. Before that I was just..." He paused, but didn't bother coming up with an excuse. "Just thinking.”

JASON: If anything, Dick looked like more of a mess then than he had when he and Tim had both showed up. Jason had gotten used to hearing from him every day, at least a single dumb message, even if he didn’t respond, so it had been weird to suddenly not only have none sent but to not be answered either. Even if he’d had no idea something else was going on, that probably would’ve got him over to the apartment to make sure he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t, obviously. “Got a billion dollar expense account and can’t buy a charger?” Of course he knew that wasn’t the reason. It hadn’t mattered if the phone was dead if he wasn’t talking to anyone anyway.

Jason was not one to shy away from people at their low points. While he never expected anyone to be there for his (and was generally proved right), what he had always been able to shoulder was the darkest parts for people he cared about. He’d been doing it since he was a kid. It was why he hadn’t hesitated even for a second when Roy relapsed to say he could and would handle it. The reason he often wasn’t there was that he didn’t let himself be close enough to people to know when it was going on in the first place, not because he was unwilling or somehow incapable of dealing with it. He’d had no idea until recently what it even looked like for Dick, much less had a reason to think that there was any call for him to be there during it.

He stepped more fully into the apartment and sat down on the arm of the couch. What he’d done for Roy during the detox didn’t fit here. This was Dick. He knew it had to look different. “You wanna talk?” It was not something he normally offered. If anything, it was anathema to his usual way of operating, but it was the one thing Dick usually did that suddenly he wasn’t doing. He was going so out of his way not to that Jason had little doubt it was the missing thing.

DICK: Dick's phone hadn't died because he didn't have a charger and they both knew it, so he didn't bother clarifying that he did have a charger... somewhere. The lack of a quip or ready made comeback was also uncharacteristic. It almost seemed like he was half-asleep. Sasha, restless, paced between them and finally settled for sitting next to Dick, nosing into his palm and whining.

There were a handful of times when he'd pulled back from the family. It was always when he didn't know how to handle the situation and it was too much for him to regulate. The only thing he could do was isolate himself. He didn't like being around the people he cared about when he was like this, because it wasn't him, it was difficult, and he knew it was disarming to the people who needed him. 

Jason asking if he wanted to talk took him off guard. Dick hesitated, but he came around to the chair. He sat on edge of the seat and leaned forward, his arms folded over his knees. There was something fidgety about his hands and he brought one to his mouth, chewing on the nail. His fingertips had practically been destroyed in a matter of days. "You won't like what I have to say.”

JASON: “I never like anything anyone has to say,” he shrugged. “Kind of my thing.” Supposedly, anyway. It wasn’t really true, but some people were incapable of handling being disagreed with. “So hit me with it. I didn’t come over here just to look at your bed head.” And he didn’t feel like pretending like he’d not shown up to try to help, either. Dick knew very well that Jason wasn’t the one who showed up for a lot of casual visits. He’d stopped being quite so disagreeable when Dick did it, though.

Whatever Dick had to say, Jason didn’t expect to be terribly surprised by. Maybe he’d be wrong. He just normally went into everything expecting the worst, shittiest thing to happen, even if it had nothing to do with him. Once in awhile he was still surprised, and maybe this would be one of those times, but when he’d decided to show up he’d already braced for Dick not to have anything to say or do that he liked. Jason made a motion with his hand like he was coaxing an animal out of hiding. “I didn’t write a speech for you, so you’re the one that’s going to have to do the talking.”

DICK: By now Dick knew what Jason said wasn't true, but he didn't say anything. Sometimes it surprised him how much yet how little Jason had actually changed from the way he'd been as a kid. The reactivity was still there, the tendency to see threats when there weren't any, but he was more internal about it now. That was one of the realizations he'd come to during their talk in the library. Just because Jason didn't reach out or resisted initial attempts at reaching out didn't mean he was unreachable. So he kept trying. It was worth it to him, especially because they never had a chance to solidify the bond they'd just started to form before his death.

A long silence passed as he chewed the side of his nail on his index finger, wincing when he drew blood. Exhaling softly, he forced his hands to fold between his knees, keeping them still for at least half a second before giving up, running one of them through his hair to push it out of his eyes. He had admitted to his past with Slade. With Tim, he'd admitted a little more about the seriousness of it. Both of those things were different. Dick hadn't talked to anyone about how he felt now, or what his thoughts about it were, and there wasn't really anyone he could talk to about it. The weight of that was crushing. "I don't know how to be... done with this. For years I thought I was over it, completely, and then..." His fingers twisted slightly in his hair. "I was wrong."

JASON: Whether he did it on purpose or not, and usually it was six of one and half a dozen of the other, he often engineered obstacles that kept people away from him or at least at arm’s length. At the first sign of pushback, and definitely by the third or fourth, most people backed down and stopped trying. It’s what he expected. The predictability of it, while not a comfort, was at least not a shock either. It had taken Dick over a decade to finally start to do it, but he had kept pushing on long enough for Jason to believe he didn’t mean to just up and quit. So he was there, ready to do much the same thing. Whatever impression he gave, he never actually meant to only take and never give.

Jason watched him worry at his hands and resisted the urge to tell him to stop. Dick, who rarely ever stopped moving let alone boxed himself up in one place for a week, had to put it somewhere. Apparently the “somewhere” was fucked up fingernails and fidgeting. He made himself ignore it; there were worse things. “Why?” There had never been anything or anyone that Jason couldn’t walk away from, and the mere idea of it was foreign to him - stupid, even, but he often said that about a lot of the way Dick worked. “What’s Slade got that you can’t get away from? It’s not like you’ve never split up with somebody.” Important ones, even.

DICK: Even though one of the things Jason said to him in the library was that it was a two way street, Dick hadn't fully known what to expect. It wasn't that he didn't believe him, or thought Jason wouldn't be able to go through with it, but he knew that different people had different ways of expressing things. Dick was there for people in his way, but he was smart enough to understand that not everyone's way looked the same. This was Jason's way of offering support, which he appreciated. Normally, Dick enjoyed being needed and he was willing to give everything he had, but right now he was struggling. He didn't know which way was up and he wasn't useful to anyone.

Why. It was a good question. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've been trying to figure that out, but I don't know if I'll ever understand. It was different, it... and after, I was different. I was guarded. I never really let anyone as close to me again. It's not that I didn't want to, because I tried. I tried so hard, especially with Babs, and..." His mouth felt dry and he could feel a prickling in his throat that he fought back. "It just got all messed up. She knew, by the way. She's the only one I ever told." He thought it would salvage the relationship if she understood everything about him, but it didn't change anything. It didn't change the fact that he'd been altered by the experience.

JASON: He’d never been talented at giving people advice in a way that felt good. If he saw something that made sense (or didn’t make sense), it usually came out exactly however it had been in his head. There was no sugar-coating on the way out, most of the time. Maybe he was less harsh with some people than with others, but it was only small degrees of variation. So, he had no Hallmark worthy words of encouragement and solidarity to offer Dick, but he was hoping that if nothing else he could cut through some of what was in his head. He was obviously not capable of doing that himself. Jason wasn’t always, either, when it was his own problem.

The explanation he got was one that set him a little more on edge than he’d expected. It was just the wording, maybe, so he repeated it the way it had sounded. “So what, Slade snapped something in you and he’s the only one that can touch it now?” He wasn’t sure what to do with the admission about Barbara. Regardless of how much or little Dick had told her, it hadn’t changed their trajectory.

DICK: Hearing Jason say the words made him frown faintly, but he considered the question. It was different to have someone else talk about it in such plain terms, asking for clarification, and it forced him to truly analyze the things he was saying. What he'd been doing on his own for days wasn't working. All it did was create an endless echo chamber that left him emotionally drained and even more hopeless. Even though Jason wasn't doing anything but asking him direct questions that simplified what he'd just rambled on about, it was like shooting a laser beam through fog.

"No," he finally said carefully. "But I was ashamed after it ended, because I felt tricked. I wanted to pretend it never happened. It was a... weird split. From myself, I guess, and..." Hesitating, Dick took a moment to think about it. "It was more a self denial. Didn't want to think what happened had anything to do with me. It was easier to shift the blame or chalk it up to being stupid and young. Because what sane person wants that?"

JASON: “Whether you’re sane depends on why you wanted him.” Jason did know a little bit of it, but it wasn’t like he’d pressed him for a ton of the more personal details. He hadn’t really wanted to hear them, originally, but now their relationship had become so pervasive in other aspects of Dick’s life and the city itself that he couldn’t skip out on the details. If he was going to have any insight at all, he needed something closer to the whole picture. “And why you still do. Leave sane and insane out of it. Leave out the idea of Slade changing, too.”

Jason turned and finally sat down properly on the couch. “The guy has to have something that made you cave as fast as you did. You were already doing it when I was in jail. So what is it? Because if I had to, I could tell you every reason I want Roy. I’m not gonna,” that went without saying, “but I could. And they hold up against a lot.” He’d been aware of them the whole time, clear cut - what he admired about him, why he wanted him, why he let himself - and none of it hinged on what Roy could be or might be, it was all just what he was. There had to be something more to Slade that Dick wanted besides the idea that he could be more than Deathstroke, and Jason wanted to hear it without the veil of morality.

DICK: Dick wasn't fully sure if there could be a logical reason to want Deathstroke. What other people saw wasn't what he saw, and trying to explain how things were for him would be bizarre for anyone hearing it. He hadn't lied when he told Jason and Tim that he thought Slade would change and give up Deathstroke, even hoped for it, but that aspect didn't have much to do with how he felt about him. It was a way to excuse why he would entertain the idea in the first place, because at that point, he wasn't ready to face reality. It took a long time to reach the place where he was now - or where he'd been prior to the NOVA incident.

Sighing, he was silent for a long moment, though the comment about Roy did earn the ghost of a smirk. It made him look a little less blank. He wasn't sure if he could give Jason the type of answer he would understand, but he didn't let himself overthink it. The important thing was authenticity. If this was going to fall apart, at least he would be left with some measure of self-awareness. "It was like I..." Dick's hesitated, his brow furrowing, and Sasha rested her head against his knee. "Like I had something solid under my feet. For the first time since my parents, and... he doesn't expect me to do anything. He doesn't want anything from me. Not a joke, not a smile, not Nightwing. Nothing. What he did to NOVA, he did knowing that it could end everything, and he did it anyway. Because he sincerely believed that it would keep me safe, as fucked up as it was, he was putting me first. And I... I know it makes me a hypocrite to wish he'd do things differently, but it isn't because... because my feelings are conditional on that. I never asked him to give anything up and I wouldn't, I just..." He exhaled softly and shook his head, resting his hand on top of Sasha's head. "I just want it to be easier.”

JASON: He didn’t need to point out that the jobs Deathstroke took, killing people for money who’d done nothing but piss off someone enough to put a contract on their head, was wrong. Dick knew that. Jason didn’t think that Deathstroke was worth any of the energy put into him, but that’s all he had to gauge with - the Deathstroke part. Not any of the rest of it. He was trying to tamp down his own judgement about it - which he’d been doing in varying degrees since the beginning - to try to see it as Dick did. He couldn’t, really, but there was one thing he could do and one thing he did believe that made that not really matter. He’d just have to wait and see if Dick’s answer made it worth anything.

“So if it’s not conditional on whether or not he’s Deathstroke, who are you trying to make it easier for? If you’re not asking him to give up something for you and it doesn’t matter to you if he does or not,” because that sounded like what he was saying, whether Jason believed him or not, “then whose opinion are you counting higher than yours?”

DICK: Dick said nothing, at least not at first, but the soft sigh more than indicated what his answer would be. It was always Bruce. "I know you probably think I'm an idiot for caring about what he thinks. It's hard not to." He reached up to rub the back of his neck, already feeling the tension. "I'm not saying it makes no difference, obviously I don't... want people to die, you know that, and I would try to stop it if I were there. That's my personal choice and it's on my conscience. I'll never believe that killing is the right thing to do, but..." Trailing, he swallowed hard. "That doesn't mean I don't understand the justification for it. It's just harder... with him.”

Gritting his teeth, his gaze lowered. "You were right, you know. That day you found out, when you said I was being hypocritical. I know how it looked. I know why you were pissed off. Maybe you don't need me to explain, maybe it doesn't even matter, but... I don't want you to think I changed because of him. I didn’t. It was before that. After what happened to you, I was... angry. I'd never wanted anyone dead before, except Tony Zucco, and Bruce... didn't have the capacity to handle it. Anyway, I didn't want anything to do with him or his ideologies. I rejected all of it for a while, I started looking at things differently, and everything and everyone got... less black and white." It wasn't that he started killing, or ever considered it, but he started to see situations from different perspectives. Dick felt like he was rambling, but it helped when he worked things out aloud, if he heard his own reasoning, and maybe it was more for himself. "When everything went wrong with... Slade, with the Titans, I... overcompensated. Swung back the other way. Then you came back." Bruce's apparent death happened not long after that, and Dick had been forced to take on the mantle of Batman in his place. "And I started to see things differently again. I had to or I'd have to cut you off, and I couldn't. I wouldn't." He paused. "But it made me realize that, even when I thought my morals were identical to Bruce's, whenever something happened, my first thought was always that I failed him. Not myself, but him. It's something I still can't let go of."

JASON: “Fuck Bruce,” Jason said immediately, more like a snap reaction than one he gave any real consideration to. Not that it would’ve been different even if he sat there and thought about it. “He doesn’t get to keep dictating everything. Your...relationship thing with Slade isn’t gonna impress him no matter what you do. You think he’ll stamp on the Bat seal of approval just because you tried to fit it into a box he’d like more? He won’t.”

But it was hard to linger long on berating Bruce with what Dick said next. It got Jason to furrow his brows, and for a few seconds it was hard even for him to know whether what he felt was irritation or confusion. It might have been both. “Where was that attitude when you were offering to reform me?” If it was an unfair question or should have been water under the bridge, it didn’t stop him from asking. Not that it ever did, really. Him being there and letting Dick talk was about as far into considering his comfort as he could go - measuring what he said was rarely ever on the agenda. “How’re you gonna look at me and say it’d be easier for Slade to be more like me when you couldn’t even let me be like me?” Dick had said he’d been right to call him a hypocrite, but for once the questions weren’t accusatory, despite the wording. Maybe not unfair, either.

Jason raked his teeth over his bottom lip. He knew that things were different right then than they had been when he’d shown back up in Gotham. They were different for him, in a lot of ways, and they were different for Dick, too. They were quite a ways past that - offering help, reform, a nice cell in Arkham to get his head on straight (even if that had ended up more on Bruce than on Dick), blah blah - but it wasn’t like he’d forgot. It wasn’t like they’d talked about it. They were past it, but it was still standing there. He’d shown up to let Dick say what he needed to say, but it wasn’t going to do much good unless Jason actually made himself find a way to listen to it.

“You think I actually let go of what Bruce thinks?” It was almost funny, in a bitter way. “I haven’t. I know when he’s disappointed and how I did it. I just realized that it was going to be like that no matter what. He’s never-“ he stopped and shook his head, trying to put the words together the right way and not just the way they formed on his tongue. “None of us are ever going to be what he wants. Might as well be what we need instead.” That was his big, grand contribution to life. Nobody else would provide, whether it was acceptance or affection or whatever else, so it was better to just let go of it and take care of it on their own. “If you’re getting something from Slade, just...take it, man. Take it if it’s there. Who gives a fuck what it looks like to the rest of us?” Any of them. Not just Bruce.

DICK: "I know. I just..." It was hard to put into words what Dick was trying to do in a way that seemed at all feasible, because he knew what an impossible feat it was to get Bruce to understand anything beyond his own narrow view of the world. Although he had been able to emulate that for the sake of donning the cowl, Dick was always a lot more open-minded. There were occasions when he let his ideals and judgments slip, without really meaning to, but at the end of the day he was far more adaptable and willing to listen to other possibilities. It was why he was so much more effective as a team leader. He knew how to take everyone into consideration and fight for a common goal. It was necessary to have a degree of adaptability in order to be at all successful in that.

Jason's question made him flinch and he sighed, looking down at his hands. "You came back when I was trying my damnedest to prove that what happened with Slade had nothing to do with me. Like I said, I was overcompensating. And it was easier to go back to something I knew I could rely on. The devil you know, right? I needed something and I chose Bruce, because the risk I took and what I lost me made me think he must have a point. Everyone needs something to believe in, especially when they no longer trust themselves to do the right thing. I stopped trusting myself." Dick smiled wryly, although the effect was more of a grimace. "You just had bad timing." He'd never wondered how things would have turned out had Jason not come back, because it wasn't a possibility he wanted to entertain. Suffice to say, they would both be in very different places. There never would have been a reason for him to start entertaining those grey areas again. "I never wanted to be like him, though. When I saw him with you, when I realized what it cost him to maintain those rigid standards, I knew I wasn't like him." Dick knew Jason cared about what Bruce thought, but he also knew better than to admit that he knew, so he said nothing. It was strange to know Jason was right on an intellectual level, yet be unable to do anything about the continuous efforts he made for Bruce's approval. Lowering his head, his fingers dug into his arms and he shook his head. "I know I can't spend make myself unhappy for the sake of pleasing him. It isn't just that, it's... I don't need to be seen as perfect, just... acceptable." He paused. "But I do care about how it impacts you and the others. Jason, I..." He made himself stop. "I knew when I first met you that Bruce would let you down, so I told myself that I would be there for you instead. I knew what it would be like for you, that you would never please him and you could... die trying. I knew it because I lived it. And I wasn’t there. You even called me, and I..." That was a dangerous road to go down. Dick clenched his teeth, barely aware of how his fingernails were cutting into his skin. "It isn't just Bruce. I don't want to mess it all up. I want to be worth it."

JASON: I know, I just... Jason often got stuck in his own loop about Bruce. He was aware of it to know it existed, but not to muster either the ability or desire to break out of it. It just didn’t matter enough. The loop deserved to be there, so he stayed in it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t see Dick’s for what it was and want to snap him into something different, though. He both knew and could see how much of a waste it was, how dumb it was, and that it’d never end. Did Bruce have any fucking clue? It seemed hard to fathom that he wouldn’t, but it was worse if he did, and did nothing to try to change it, or only managed effort in suspended moments here or there. Jason had had a few of those of his own. The isolated things. An apology, an explanation, a justification. It never changed the whole picture for him, and it obviously never changed anything for Dick either, even if it didn’t look the same. It was easier to see from the outside - he’d just never had cause to look at any of the others long enough to notice. Not that Dick would have let him.

“Bad timing. That’s me.” It didn’t really matter, when it was all said and done, because it was done. It had played out. They’d lived it how they lived it. Jason was only barely reaching a point with himself where he was willing to allow people to add some different context into it, to color what he remembered a little differently than he’d done on his own. “What’d it cost him?” he wondered. “Me? You? We’re both still here, like a couple of idiots.” Not always. But what’d Bruce lose permanently? And what’d he do with the things that got returned to him? Not fix them. That was for damn sure. He was quiet for a couple of beats before finally adding, “You’re not like him anyway, even if you did want to be.” And from Jason, it was no insult. More silence followed. His jaw tightened once or twice and he stared forward at the switched-off television at his own blurred reflection. He had called. He’d not really thought about it again, after. With everything else that had gone down, Dick not picking up the phone had been far from the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I called and you didn’t answer, yeah,” he finished for him. “So? I don’t-“ he sighed, faltering finally. “I never cared that I died, man. Even when I was doing it, I didn’t blame anybody for it. Not Batman, not you, not my fucking mom.” And it hadn’t been dying that had turned him into the person he was, either. Surely Dick knew that, by then. The dying didn’t matter.

Restless, suddenly, he ran one hand along the cushion beside him. “I’m sitting here, right? Would I be sitting here if it-“ Jesus Christ. “If you weren’t worth it?” He wouldn’t be. “Because I’ve got like a billion other things I could be doing.”

DICK: Anyone who took up the Robin mantle understood the futility of pleasing Bruce, of earning that hard-won approval, but Tim had gotten close. What Dick hated to accept was what it had taken for Bruce to get where he was now. The disconnect between how he was when Dick and Jason knew him and what Tim, Damian, and even Steph had seen was so vast that sometimes it was like they knew two different people. One of the main reasons why Dick had been around more for Tim was because of what happened with Jason, and that seed of anger caused him to stand up to Bruce several times for Tim's sake, because Tim needed it, and he had to accept that his own childhood was over. It didn't matter if he could logically or objectively step back and see the situation for what it was. It didn't matter that he knew Bruce loved him. He largely suspected that wouldn't matter for Jason, either - or maybe it would, but there would always be that thought of too little, too late. The difference between them was where they channeled the criticism. Dick turned it inward and Jason lashed out, mainly at Bruce, easily making up for what Dick didn't say.

"We're here," he agreed, because it was true enough. Jason would show up when the chips were down. There were times when Dick hadn't been sure if he would, though he'd always reach out, but that was a long time ago. "It cost him a family. A family he could have had, if he'd just... I don't know, gotten therapy, I guess. That's why he took us in. He wanted a family. Yeah, I got the good little soldier speech and made that dumb oath, just like you did, but he didn't have to adopt us." That was something Dick was certain of, because Bruce hadn't adopted him right away, and that had been the main reason why he'd been so desperate to please him, especially in the beginning. He was terrified Bruce would return him, defective, and pick out a newer, shinier kid who did cleaner backflips. It was dumb in retrospect.

He couldn't help a faint smile when Jason said he wasn't like Bruce, laughing under his breath and pushing his hair back from his face. "Good. He's miserable." As Jason continued, his smile faded and he held his breath. Even though he'd said the word not two seconds ago, it was impossible not to wince when it came out of Jason's mouth. He didn't think he would ever not feel that pang. The first time it had been agonizing, he could remember it so well, and the memories and emotions associated it were heavy. "I know you don't. I know that it might have still happened if I'd answered the phone, if I'd stayed, if I played it all over again, and maybe there was no stopping it. It was Joker's doing. I know that. I just don't want to lose the time we have now, or waste it making stupid decisions." It wasn't so much that he was looking back, but the past was a good reference when it came to moving forward. He knew how tragic one misstep could be. "I still wish I'd picked up that stupid phone. I had your voicemail saved for a long time, but then I smashed it after a fight with Bruce. Lost it." That had been more devastating than he wanted to admit, so he forced a faint smirk. "Your little high voice. It was a lot higher than I said in the car, by the way. I was doing you a favor."

No. Jason wouldn't be there unless he wanted to be. Dick knew that because he knew him. It had taken several good-intentioned but misinformed efforts to reach this point, too. That was why he didn't want to mess it up. "You sure there's anything more fun than watching me wax on and feel sorry for myself?" Rubbing his nose, he laughed softly. "We could play rooftop truth or dare. Trampoline rooftop truth or dare. It's more fun with two people." He paused, then continued quickly. "And I have wine."

JASON: There had been other points, earlier on, when the person in the family he’d have said he was least like was Dick. It had been more like armor than anything. He couldn’t be him, despite all the trying, so the only solution was to wear the opposite like a badge of honor, or at least a badge of defiance. He’d done that for a long time. He might have kept doing it, even, had they not finally managed to yell about something that ended up mattering. He still couldn’t ever be Dick, didn’t even want to be anymore, but what had felt like a gulf that separated them had narrowed into something small enough to see over. Bruce had failed both of them in ways that the others couldn’t understand. Tim had said as much. He couldn’t be insulted by being likened to Bruce, because the Bruce he knew wasn’t the same. And good for him, just like Jason had said. Good for him, but that wasn’t what he got. It wasn’t what Dick got, either.

“Yeah. Cost him a family. Cost us...” he shook his head, “I guess the same thing.” He let the words hang, listening to them as he said them. “For awhile.” And that part, he was still getting used to. Dick had tried for something with Tim and Damian and he’d got it, at least halfway, but Jason had never expected to. He’d given up on it, at least in any meaningful way, and was still easing into the idea that he’d been wrong. He wasn’t ever going to have the father in Bruce that he’d wanted, but he could salvage...something. Somebody. Not just because some words got said - he’d had enough damn words. Everybody had words. Even Bruce had words. Dick was the one finally doing something to prove it, even if the only thing it looked like right then was letting Jason see him be something besides the unattainable thing he’d conjured up for so long. That was fine. It was all he’d wanted, really. Actual truth with something to back it up. “Look up miserable in the dictionary and you’ll see a cowl with stupid ears.” He didn’t want to be like that, either, but at times it seemed inevitable. All those months, years, when it felt like the only thing he had left was just disappointment and fucking anger...had he been much different from Bruce then? Not really. Not on that level, anyway. “Doesn’t really matter anymore if you could’ve made a difference. I’m not asking you to make up for it, don’t need you to pay some kind of pittance for missing a phone call. Just don’t use me as some kind of reason not to do something you want to do.” He didn’t want to be an excuse, much less a burden - something holding him back from himself or from somebody. Even if the somebody was freakin’ Slade.

The remark about his voice finally got him to move. He threw one of the pillows nearby straight toward Dick’s head, aiming to knock him over. “Keep talking and you’ll sound like that by the time I leave.” He stared at him like he was daring him to continue. “What are we, sixteen?” But there were worse things, he figured, than just getting drunk. “Fine. Hope it’s a lot of wine.”

DICK: It might be the singular thing that prevented their schism from being too great. Dick understood what Jason went through with Bruce, the impossible standards, although Jason had an actual person he felt he had to live up to while Dick's own fears of failure were largely internalized. All of that resulted into the tendency to be what the people around him needed. He had the ability to read a room and innately understand how to mold himself to the group. The lack of authenticity ate at him, but the idea of exposing what he thought was fundamentally flawed and broken about himself was horrifying, even though being understood was something he would always crave. It was another thing that drew him to Slade. As it turned out, being accepted and understood was addictive. It made him less reticent to be direct and honest with Jason. The idea that they could share those experiences made the burden much lighter, even if they didn't talk about it, and even if they handled it differently. It came from the same place.

"For a while," he agreed. "For the world's greatest detective, he doesn't seem to grasp long term effects." Abnormal psychology was one thing, but anticipating others' reactions to a sequence of events, especially their reactions, was one of Bruce's shortcomings. Pressuring Dick to let the others believing he was dead for their well being played perfectly into Dick's desire to protect his family, sure, but there had been consequences. He knew there would be consequences. Like Bruce, he thought it was worth what he had to do. It was a burden he wanted to take on for their sake, even though it still troubled him that Bruce had strategically used that angle against him. "Underneath all of it, we all want the same thing, right? Maybe that's just a side effect of being an orphan." That made him laugh, even though he felt more sorry for Bruce than anything. "I used to get so mad when people compared me to Bruce. They did it all the time when I was with the Titans, said I was just like the Bat, and... I hated it." There was no denying he could be a serious and harsh leader, but he'd had to be. There were lives in his hands. If he were going to take on that role, then he would devote himself to keeping everyone under his care safe. It put him under a lot of pressure and there were plenty of occasions when he'd exploded. The position brought out his perfectionist, organizational side - something he'd never relished in, because it wasn't him. Sometimes he wondered if anyone other than Wally, Roy, and Donna knew him at all. Kory, maybe, but even with Kory he'd been largely buying into an idealized version of himself.

"It's not really pittance. It's just knowing how easy it is to make a choice you regret even years later. And what I want... I mean, what's most important to me, is family. It's always been family." That was what made it so hard to risk choosing Slade and possibly alienating them.  Dick caught the pillow, but the motion made him fall back against the couch. This time when he laughed it was richer, although the redness of his eyes betrayed other emotions that rose to the surface with it. Tossing the pillow back at Jason, he got to his feet and gestured for him to follow. "It's a lot," he confirmed. "Everyone seems to think wine is the go-to gift when you move into a new apartment, even if it's months after the fact." He had at least a dozen bottles shoved in various places around the kitchen. "Uh..." He dug around in the silverware drawer. "...But I don't have a cork opener. Do you have a pocketknife or something?"

JASON: Though he'd never know for sure, maybe the weight he'd carried around would have been there with or without Dick. If it hadn't been the standards set around him, would it have been something else? He'd wondered, more than once, if he was even capable of the kinds of things that other people were, or if it was truly a situation where he was damned no matter what. If he just was...how he was, and his issues with Bruce, what happened with Joker, all of it just happened to be the circumstances and the situations he'd ended up with. There was no way to tell. He couldn't live a different life to find out. All he knew was that he didn't want that to be true, and if it wasn't inherently true, that meant it was the result of something. Someone. Maybe that was what Dick was saying, too, about what he'd tried to do after things went south with Slade the first time. It just looked wildly different for both of them, as usual. He didn't know how to ask, or if he wanted to, but the thought took hold as he sat there.

"Apparently being a good detective doesn't do much good with this." But it wasn't like they were neat puzzles to be solved. Jason often wished it were that simple himself - that people made enough sense to just put them in the places he wanted them to fit, but he had the presence of mind (sometimes, anyway) to realize it wasn't going to work. He ran his hand along the back of his neck. That was what they had in common, right? All of them? Something in or about the world had spit them out and they'd ended up together. "Yeah, well...wanting is the easy part." Jason had said that plenty himself, that Dick was just the Baby Bat, but that had been the point of what he was doing. He'd projected that himself, whether he wanted to or not. Jason had just had no way of knowing that he should be seeing through it. He had never spent much time talking to Roy about Dick. There was no reason for him to. It was, if anything, one of the things he'd wanted to discuss with him the least. Their understanding of him probably split somewhere, but he'd never wanted to drag that into their relationship. Whatever they were, he'd wanted it to be them. Not something that involved Dick.

He chewed at the inside of his lip. He didn't fidget the way that Dick did, but he too was finding it hard to just keep sitting there, still, doing nothing but talking. One of the things that had always been and would always been difficult, if not flat out impossible for him to accept was that he was a priority in someone's life. Anyone's, really. To be told flat out that Dick wanted a relationship with the family, with him, over whatever he had with Slade that he struggled to distance himself from...it was a struggle to believe it. That was what he was trying so fucking hard to change, at least a little. It left him quiet.

It also made the wine even more appealing. If there was a ton of it, all the better. Jason didn't often get drunk. He didn't like the loss of control that came with it. Mostly, it was something he did in moments of desperation, low times, or just when he was too fucking angry to even know what else to do with it. It hadn't happened in awhile. Right then, if he was going to stay there and they were going to keep doing whatever it was they were doing, he wanted the wine. "Did you just ask me if I have a pocketknife? Have we ever met before? Hello, stranger," he rolled his eyes as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out something much more sizeable than a pocket knife. "Give me some of those bottles."

DICK: Dick struggled to separate and understand the difference between what Bruce knew, but didn't know how to change, and what he was truly ignorant of. He was always surprised by the truth. At this point, he'd spent years trying to understand how Bruce's mind worked and why he was the way he was. It was something he grasped in theory, but the simplest thing could capsize the whole theory. At this point, he had to reconcile with the fact that there might not ever be a way to fully understand Bruce. What's more, it was no longer his job. Robin had to know how to work alongside Batman, anticipate the moves he made, and to mimic his behavior for top efficiency.

"Hard part's over, I think." That was what he hoped. They'd bridged the gap between them despite all hurdles. Jason being here now proved that the fight was never one-sided. At some point they'd turned the corner and were now on their way to building something different. Sometimes Dick tried looking back so he could pinpoint when that happened, even though he knew it didn't really matter. Where they'd been was inconsequential. He wanted to focus on where they were now. Maybe that was why Jason didn't like to talk about the past, there wasn't much to be gained from it, because the rules were different now.

Hard conversations weren't typically ones Dick avoided, but he knew better than to let Jason's silence simmer. When he was quiet it indicated that he didn't know what to say or had nothing good to say. Sometimes it was best to let things sink in, especially when they'd covered so many touchy topics in a short timeframe. Moving on to something lighter and less emotional was the only way he knew how to redirect the evening that wouldn't result in Jason taking off. He hesitated, but then handed over the bottle in his hand. It was Pinot Grigio. "Wait, I mean one of those like... swiss army knives. You know, with all the little pieces that pop out. They usually come with a corkscrew." It was hard imagining Jason with some boy scout knife, but he supposed it wasn't impossible. "You can't just, like, cut the top off."

JASON: Even though he’d had a family in the legal sense from the day that Bruce adopted him onward, he’d spent so much of the time after the Pit hell bent on staying away from them. He’d still shown up if they needed him, really needed him, and reached out to say so, but otherwise...otherwise he’d just tried to fill in the missing things in other ways. By himself, mostly, but it was what the Outlaws had been for awhile, too. Somebody to have his back and give a damn for awhile, and with whom he could do the same in kind. He’d figured it would just stay that way, with him piecing together scraps of something. Maybe it was still going to be true - the world was still spinning in the same direction and all. They weren’t suddenly going to be one big happy family sitting down to Sunday dinner and going to baseball games together on the weekend. But some things were changing. Had changed. If they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have go to Dick’s place, certainly not tried it twice, just to be there for him.

Still, he couldn’t suddenly just be a different person. Maybe he should’ve thanked him or told him he believed him or anything at all, really, but he couldn’t do it. Later, maybe. Dick was in the middle of a whole fucking ordeal, he didn’t actually know what his priorities were going to be, right? He wasn’t going to hang on the answer. He’d meant what he told him, that he should go for what he wanted and damn the rest. They’d spend too much time doing anything but that. To Jason, it was difficult to fathom the final decision being what Dick claimed it was.

“Who said I can’t cut the top off? I’ll do it over the sink. Wine still tastes the same.” Jason had the oddly shaped Kris dagger that he often carried. “Don’t worry. It’s clean.” It had been buried in many a shoulder and stomach, but it was perfectly fine for getting a damn cork out. Jason took the bottle from him and stabbed the point of the bottle down into the cork before shimmying it back and forth to try to coax it free. Instead, he got a few pieces of chipped cork for his trouble. Rinse, repeat, until he had most of it dug out. “Voila. One bottle down.” But he next time, he was just cutting off the damn top. Nobody had time to play ‘pick out the cork.’ He motioned for a second bottle, not willing to share, and handed the open one to Dick. “We going up or what?”

Practically as soon as they had, there was the sound of shattering glass and the small amount of wine that had been at the very top of the neck spilled over the sides. The cork, still wrapped in glass, skidded across the roof and Jason nudged it away with his foot. As long as he didn’t let the top of the bottle actually touch his mouth, it’d be fine.

DICK: There was a time when Dick didn't think it was possible to bring Jason back into the family. That didn't mean he didn't want to. He'd never stopped wanting to help, even when he didn't know how to help, and he never thought that Bruce's way of handling the situation was appropriate under the circumstances. He understood why he'd done it. Jason had needed help, there was no doubt of that, but he needed more than what he'd been handed. Arkham Asylum wasn't exactly the ideal place to convalesce and find peace of mind. Dick hated the idea of Jason in there, it was discomfort he shared with Bruce more than once, and he'd been encouraged to let the system handle it from that point forward. That was never something he'd ever been able to do completely, even in the more typical situations. More happened once the person was put in jail. It didn't fix anything but the current situation. Everything that followed after that was strained. When he had seen Jason in the years between his release and before Star City, it wasn't for long and they didn't talk about anything of substance. Jason was still adverse to doing it now, for the most part, but he still would. They had. The fact that Jason was here to talk about something Dick knew he hadn't enjoyed talking about demonstrated that he was trying. Both of them were. It wasn't easy for Dick to fully stop and listen to someone else, even when he thought he believed he knew what they were saying. He'd been wrong about Jason before. There was no doubt he'd be wrong again. That didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying to be present in whatever way he could, when he could, and he knew he couldn't just keep himself shut up in his apartment like this.

"But the glass -" There was no time for Dick to protest before Jason was stabbing the knife into the cork. He shook his head, but for the first time that evening he was smiling. "There's probably a million pieces of cork floating in there now." Accepting the now corkless bottle, he handed the second one to Jason even though he expected it to get the same treatment.

Nodding, he led the way to the large glass doors that took them out to the roof. The garden was getting a little wild, especially compared to when Jason had been there last time. Motioning to the trampoline, he was about to say something when he heard the sound of glass shattering. "Are you - did you seriously just...?" His alarmed gaze shot to the cork rolling across the roof and he stepped out of its path, blinking. "How are you going to drink that? Just pour it into your mouth? Wait..." Already he was heading back inside to get Jason something, even if it was a coffee cup.

JASON: Sometimes things had to get down to the wire for Jason to step in. It had to hit do or die levels, and even then there were times when he thought he’d pick the second one or leave someone else to it, at least metaphorically. He didn’t like listening to people circle around themselves and reach for things that didn’t make any sense. He did it too, but he didn’t have to watch that from the outside. If he had, he probably would’ve wanted to kick his own ass more than once. But the difference in where he was right then and where he’d been for so many years was that he’d shown up to try to head things off before it got that bad, and he’d not done it for himself. He  hadn’t gone to the apartment twice because it actually involved him. It didn’t. He was there for Dick. That was all. That was all, and that was...still new. For the two of them, anyway. Jason was wading in the shallow end of the pool with it, dipping in his feet and making himself acclimate.

“So spit them out. Pour it through a sieve. Or maybe don’t keep ten bottles of wine without buying a corkscrew,” he shrugged. It was still wine and it’d still get them drunk. If he was going to keep lingering, and it didn’t feel like they were done so he would, that was very high on the priority list. He was fighting his own instinct to recuse himself even though the only reason he was even there was because he’d decided all on his own to go. He wanted to be there, or at least felt as if he needed to be. Again, a novelty. How often had any of them generated that feeling? That he was needed?

“How’s that any different from what you’re doing? You’re just pouring it in your mouth.” With less chance of stitches, but he wasn’t torn up about it. As Dick disappeared, Jason could’ve sworn he heard him clicking his tongue. He took his mangled bottle and carefully hoisted himself up onto the trampoline to sit in the middle of it, and once Dick returned with some kind of cup he poured it as full of wine as it could go. “I never even asked why you have this thing.” He’d always just chalked it up to Dick being Dick, but it was bizarre even for him. “Why the fuck is there a trampoline at your apartment?” He’d not even asked when he lived there. Might as well.

DICK: Dick hated living alone. When he'd moved out of the manor in Gotham, he floated between the Titans until he had his own apartment, but most of his time was spent at the tower. He needed to be around them and around people. It was easy for him to feel lonely. Isolating himself wasn't in his nature and went against every one of his instincts. It was one thing to achieve independence with his own identity, but he always ended up being drawn back into a group. That wasn't something he minded, not really, even though leading always felt more like a burden. He'd frequently channel Bruce during those times. Being responsible for others and their lives had brought out a perfectionist part of him. He always felt tightly wound. When things were bad, he'd been known to snap at the smallest mistake.

"I don't keep them," he called back from the kitchen, fishing through the cabinets for a cup. "And I could give you at least seventeen differences."

Eventually he settled on a SCPD tumbler with a swirly straw. It was the only cup he had with a top on it, and much better than Jason taking his chances with jagged glass. He picked out a Halloween mug for himself with "Halloween puns are so corny!" written across the front and peppered with images of candy corn. Returning to the roof, he handed Jason the SCPD cup and joined him on the trampoline.

The question made him look up in surprise. "I never said?" Dick filled his cup up halfway, hesitated, then sighed and filled it to the brim. Even in the low light he could see the tiny pieces of cork, but it seemed so small next to everything else that he couldn't muster much energy to care about them. "I guess I didn't." He'd talked to Jason before proposing to Tanya. He knew he'd get his unfiltered, honest opinion, and that was something he wanted. "I actually have two trampolines at my apartment. One is just inside." Smirking faintly, he shrugged and took a long drink of the wine. "This one used to be in the gym. I had it moved out here. It was supposed to be just temporary, maybe a night or two, but..." The wine left a bitter taste in his mouth and he took another drink. "I proposed to Tanya on the roof, had a whole dinner set up and everything. All romantic. Our first date was at a trampoline park."

JASON: Jason was not the least bit at odds with the idea of living alone. It made a lot of things easier. But even knowing that, it was not really, honestly his preference. He needed space, the ability to go behind a door and shut it if he wanted, but not always necessarily for there to be no one on the other side when he opened it again. He wasn’t bothered a great deal during the times it didn’t work out that way, but that wasn’t true of many other people. Dick willfully choosing to be by himself and shut away as long as he had been was wildly out of the norm and the brightest red flag he could have waved.

“If they’re in your house on a regular basis, you’re keeping them.” Even if it was the same bottles. It was alcohol, not a damn decoration. They would’ve been drank eventually and he’d not been prepared. So he got cork chips and broken glass. That was how it worked.

He scoffed as soon as he brought back that tumbler, but tipped the ruined bottle above it enough to pour it full. He didn’t bother with either the lid or straw and just tipped it back to take a long first drink. A second one followed as Dick launched into an engagement story, because of course he did. “Guess you picked truth.” Were they still doing that? “What is it with you and needing that ring and piece of paper anyway?”

DICK: In the beginning, Tim was spending the evenings with him, keeping him company, and Dick enjoyed his presence even when they were in separate rooms. It helped to know that someone else was in the apartment. The small movements were a strange sense of comfort. He hadn't told Tim about seeing Slade, not yet, but the conversation was still turning over in his head. There were new things to consider about it now, things that were somewhat... troubling, and took another long drink. This time the alcohol burned the back of his throat.

Dick scrunched his nose. "Was gonna give them to Alfred, but I kept forgetting." Bruce didn't drink. He knew Alfred indulged from time to time, he could hardly blame him for that, or he could at least use them for food preparation. Or something. Instead they sat in his cabinet and collected dust.

Plucking the straw from the trampoline, he stuck it into his bottle. He was sucking on it when Jason reminded him about the game. Immediately he shook his head, rolling his eyes. "That didn't count." Then again, that also meant it was Jason's turn. "Guess that means you're up, though. Truth or dare?"

JASON: “But you didn’t give them to Alfred. Buy a corkscrew.” They weren’t making it through ten bottles of wine that night. Jason might have a slight leg up on ordinary people thanks to the Pit, but he wasn’t some metahuman with metabolism too out of control to let him get drunk. Dick would have plenty of wine still sitting by the end.

Dick didn’t give him an answer to his other question, but he let him dodge it. Many months earlier when he’d told him he was proposing to Tanya in the first place, he’d given him part of an answer. He wasn’t sure he’d ever understand it, at least not from the perspective of someone who actually felt that way. Marriage seemed...nearly useless to him, a government stamp on something that either already had meaning or didn’t.

“Dare.” No contest. He’d given Dick some truths already that night and was going to need a lot more to drink to offer up more, even in a game. He’d get to it, maybe. He brought the tumbler up to his lips and took two long swallows. “Give it your best shot.”

DICK: "What, and drink by myself? Isn't that frowned upon?" Maybe he had isolated himself over the past week or so, however long it'd been, but Dick wasn't about to use alcohol to cope. He knew better. Even right now, there was a certain shame in drinking. It was maybe the third or fourth time he had more than a single glass. And even that single glass was a rare occasion.

Jason's question wasn't one could answer just off the cuff, but it was something he'd thought about before. He thought about it right now too, and turned the question over in his mind as he acted preoccupied with thinking up a good dare. He played this so often with Wally and Roy that he had about half a dozen ideas in a matter of seconds.

But none of those ideas seemed quite right. They wouldn't be challenging for Jason, anyway - and wasn't that the whole point of playing? "I'll have you picking truth by the end of the night." He smirked and dug his phone out of his pocket. "Dare you to take a selfie with me."

JASON: “Depends on who you’re asking. Sometimes it’s the only thing that cuts through.” Jason certainly didn’t shy away from it, but he wasn’t exactly reaching for a bottle at the drop of a hat, either. Especially not recently. He’d drank in front of Roy before while he was sober, but with the relapse being so fresh and the hidden bottles he and Dick had found and emptied had removed any desire to do it. Once in awhile he dipped into a bar, and he wasn’t thinking twice about the wine. “You don’t have to lay around feeling shit all the time.” Not that he figured Dick would really get on that train.

Immediately, he regretted how little thought he’d put into his choice. A selfie wasn’t the worst thing ever, but it immediately showed him where Dick’s mind went and it wasn’t what he’d been counting on. He’d expected something physical, probably stupid, but of course that was too easy. He groaned, but shifted himself until he was a little ways behind Dick and off to one side. It put him at an angle to be in the picture, and he tipped the tumbler up to take a drink right as Dick snapped it.

“There. Your turn.” Jason didn’t sit around coming up with lists of crap he wanted to know about people. His questions tended to just come out like a demand to know something whenever the answer was suddenly important. He could figure it out, though, if truth was up to bat again.

DICK: Dick had seen Roy at low points before, but his involvement had been more transitionary. When Roy first admitted his addiction, he didn’t even find out about it until much later. And the second time, after Jason left and Roy showed up in Gotham, Dick worked hard to convince him to go West. The treatment center wasn’t part of the plan until he’d seen how bad off Roy was. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken much convincing. “But the feelings are still there after it wears off. Sometimes even stronger than before.” Alcohol was a temporary solution. At some point he’d have to face everything again. It was something he’d push himself through rather than push it aside or cover it up. That never ended well. Not for him, at least. “But I could use a break.” A couple hours of peace, free from constant ruminating, wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing. It was starting to get to him.

Jason would do the selfie because it was a dare. That part didn’t surprise him - neither of them were the type to back down once they’d committed to something. It was committing to people that seemed to be their shared problem, but Dick knew his own history was much more convoluted. After snapping the picture, he quickly saved it and slipped his phone back in his pocket. It happened so fast that his own pose had been a nothing but a cheesy grin. He still intended fo put it on Twitter later, once Jason couldn’t dare him to take it down.

“Um...” Maybe Jason would have preferred to give him a dare, but Dick liked having an excuse to tell him things that wouldn’t come up under normal circumstances. Maybe it wouldn’t lead to an exchange, but it gave Dick the opportunity to show his willingness to be honest and open. “Truth.”

JASON: Sometimes even stronger than before. Jason didn't even try to keep from rolling his eyes, though he at least had his head partly turned away when he did it. "Yeah dude, they're there either way. Doesn't mean you have to just sit and do nothing but think about it. Not like you've been making it any better your way." Clearly. Dick wasn't snapping himself out of it, and even if he'd managed to they both knew that it wasn't exactly in a good way either. All he was doing was swallowing it. What was the real difference between that and swallowing some wine for a couple of hours instead? Not much.

Compared to regular people, of which they'd never really been part of, it was likely strange how few pictures actually existed of their family together. Normally it was something formal, some stiff thing to go on the wall back in Wayne Manor, and Jason hadn't even shown up for half of those. More than half, probably. So he let him have the selfie and didn't complain about it outright. For the time being, anyway.

"Answer my question then. What is it with you and the piece of paper and the ring?" He'd avoided it pointedly and Jason wasn't going to let him, even if he already had part of the answer. "You need the government to validate that it's real or what?"

DICK: In the past, Dick might have gotten defensive over Jason's reaction or read too far into it. It had taken time and a lot of trial and error for him to understand that Jason's dry comments and eyerolls weren't meant as insults. Now he used that back and forth as a way to connect. He was comfortable teasing him in return, even as he was sure to never take it too far. There were always subjects that were off limits. Then again, maybe that was true for both of them. This, however, wasn't one of those subjects, and the question just made him laugh a little. "Exactly. I'm just turning over the same thoughts on the chance that the light might be different the next time around." With no one but himself to bounce ideas off of, it had made everything feel stagnant and hopeless - but now, even after Jason left, he would have new things to ponder.

He sighed and dropped his head, his teeth tugging on his lower lip. "I was still thinking about it." Maybe he didn't have a complete picture, but he could answer the question as best he could. His chest tightened and he took another drink, even though he was only starting to feel the effects. "You know when I said I was overcompensating? Kind of like that, but... I guess with..." Sighing heavily, he reached up to push his hair back. "I loved Babs, Kory, and Tanya. This doesn't have anything to do with them. It's just... it's why I pushed things in that direction." Dick's mouth felt dry, but didn't let himself take another drink. Not yet. He didn't want Jason to think he was trying to put off an answer. "So after... everything with Slade, I knew there had to be something really, really wrong with me. It wasn't just what he'd done or what he was capable of. It was that after it was all said and done, I completely believed everything was just some game for him - you know what Bruce thinks he's about - because he was so convincing. He turned Rose against the Titans, sent her to kill me, even, not to mention all the times I fought him as Deathstroke after that. The way he looked... it was like..." Setting his jaw, he sighed. "Like he was looking right through me. Like I wasn't even there. And still, I..." He had to stop again. This time it was with a soft, forced laugh. "So I really thought something about me was so twisted that I might never want something normal. Something good. And when I found it, all I wanted to do was nail it down. Maybe it was way to prove to myself that I could still have something that average people could have, people who haven't been through what we have, you know? It was like there was this darkness that I was trying to outrun, and the harder I tried, the more I could beat it back."

JASON: “Spoiler alert,” Jason took another drink, halfway through the full tumbler by then, “they’re not going to look any different the sixty-eighth time that you think about them.” There wasn’t going to be some sudden and previously unseen thing that slotted into place if the only thing he’d done was sit with the exact same information, in the same place, alone. Jason knew what that cycle felt like, knew perfectly well that there was no end to it if left alone. Dick didn’t take it to the same places that he did, or at least he didn’t think so, but that didn’t make it less endless.

He filled the tumblr again to the top from his busted wine bottle as he finally got the answer to that question. It was surprisingly less dumb than he’d been counting on. He kept drinking, keeping up no pretense that his goal was not to be well and truly trashed in as short a time as possible, and pushed one hand back through his hair. “Never gonna be like other people, Dickie. No marriage license is going to change that. Normal people don’t even know what to do with it half the time, anyway.” Marriage didn’t solve shit. It didn’t chase away darkness or give some kind of North Star. It didn’t right a wrong. Someone either did those things, relationships either did those things, or they didn’t. “I don’t know Deathstroke as anything but Deathstroke, so I couldn’t guess at what the hell was going on in his head during all that, but it’s got more to do with him than it does with you either way.”

DICK: "Yeah, trust me, I know." This wasn't the first time Dick had chosen to close himself off from his family, but he wasn't about to discuss those past incidences with Jason. Two were related to him. They were on good terms now, but there were still things he didn't think were necessary to bring up. Things that wouldn't do Jason any good to know about. "You gave me stuff to think about," he added in a quieter voice. "Maybe it'll tide me over."

His brow furrowed as Jason spoke and he sighed, his thumb tracing the mouth of the bottle. "Yeah. It's not that... I want to be, not completely." It was impossible for him to regret being Robin or any of those years with Bruce, despite everything. The early years were still some of the best memories he had. That was also something he chose not to disclose to Jason.

At first he was quiet. When Jason first showed up, Dick didn't plan on talking about the conversation he'd had with Slade. It was still fresh on his mind, though. It was impossible not to give into the temptation now that his head was swimming and some of his inhibitions were lowered. "He thought he'd put me in danger. You know, because being Robin and Bruce Wayne's kid didn't put me directly in the line of fire anyway." Maybe it was different with Deathstroke, who made enemies just the same as Bruce, if not more, and he understood the reasoning behind it. Still, it made him sigh and take another drink. "I talked to him, you know. Slade. I was walking Sasha and saw his bike in the alley next to Rose and Joey's place. I stopped and waited for him."

JASON: He raised a brow at that. Had he? Was Dick actually going to accept any of what he’d said or at least consider it? It seemed like most of the time Jason just threw words into a damn void, no matter who he was talking to, and nothing stuck. Maybe it was unfair of him to keep thinking that way all the time, but it was hard to shake. He wasn’t exactly the guy anyone went to for advice, and did he have much right to blame them for that? Maybe not. “Guess it wasn’t a total bust then.” Him showing up, that was.

Normal was never something that he’d tried to strive for. Jason wasn’t even sure the word had real meaning, anyway. “Good, because you’re never going to get it, and if you did you’d be bored as hell.” Stability, in some sense, was a far more understandable concept. That was all he wanted, and it’d never be granted by a judge or a stamp anyway. Usually it couldn’t be wrung out of another person at all. Dick was out for something else entirely. If he’d only wanted someone at his back, he’d had that more than once and walked away.

It was dumb on the surface to think of anyone claiming to do something for protection, at least where Dick (or any of them) were concerned, but at the same time...Jason did hesitate to think of was some grand offense, either. Unnecessary. Maybe a little insulting. But bad? “The nerve of him to not want to throw you in front of a different bus,” he finally said, purely sarcastic, and took another drink. But he forgot about it when Dick said he’d already seen him. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, huh?” Dick was still lost in his head, so whatever conversation he’d had with Slade obviously hadn’t turned the world rightside up again, but that wasn’t a surprise. “And? That do any good?”

DICK: "It wasn't. I'm glad you're here, I know I'm not exactly the best company right now." Dick tried to smile, but the result was a half-hearted smirk. Too much weighed on his mind for him to manage anything light-hearted. He knew this wasn't easy for Jason, it wasn't something he was used to doing at all, and he appreciated anything he offered under those circumstances. Because it was so rare, there was no way he wouldn't listen or take what he had to say seriously. Their cross-country trip had loosened any lingering awkwardness that remained after the incident in the Batcave. At this point, it was difficult to believe it had ever been there in the first place.

That made him laugh, but he couldn't hide the wince even with another long drink of wine. "Yeah, I think that was the problem. Once I had it, something always kept me from following through. I always let something get in the way." He'd never put up a real fight, either. With Babs and Kory it'd been mostly mutual, but he knew his own lack of consistency leading up to it largely contributed. He knew they thought it was because he had commitment issues, but that wasn't it at all. Committing had never been the problem. It was a lack of self-awareness that was, in part, a form of denial. Rolling his eyes, he shook the bottle in his hand to see how much was left. "It wasn't all selfless, you know. He didn't want me getting in the way of Deathstroke. That was his priority back then. He thought I would change him, mess up his life, and then die. Even if that did happen, it's not really me dealing with the consequences. He'd be left to face whatever guilt he'd have for it, no matter how misplaced."

Now that he'd brought it up, he knew he couldn't skirt giving Jason the answers. If he did, he knew they'd just come up in the next round of Truth. "They're close to the park. It's where I usually take her." Not that the route explained why he'd stopped or waited. Frowning, he rubbed his forehead and then laid back, bending one of his legs so his foot was flat against the trampoline. "Yeah. No. Kind of. It was weird. He’d been drinking. I could tell." Not that he was one to talk.

JASON: "You're never the best company," he said without missing a beat, but though his tone didn't convey it (purposefully) it was only a joke. Granted, he could only tolerate Dick or practically anyone in limited amounts, but he could tolerate him. Willingly, recently. He sought him out on purpose and not just because life or their family shoved them together and made them figure their shit out for a few hours or a couple of days. "So nothing new there."

On paper, Jason wasn't sure that Dick was ever going to find anyone better than Babs or Kory, but 'on paper' didn't really mean anything. Nothing worked like that. Technically the game only 'gave' him one question and he'd already asked more than that, so he elected to sit on the one that had just cropped up. He'd wait a minute. "Of course it wasn't selfless. Nothing's selfless. I don't even think it's possible." Altruism didn't exist. There were people who tipped the balance away from them when they did something for another person, but there was always something to be gained, even if it was just satisfaction or comfort.

He scoffed and took another swallow, finally feeling the wine move through him in earnest. It always started in his muscles, like warmth or electricity, and spread from there. "Probably at least means he gives a shit." If something was bothering Deathstroke enough to bother getting drunk over it. Then again, maybe he did it all the time. It wasn't like Jason knew. People that maintained that much control and hyper vigilance just usually didn't. "Could be worse."

DICK: Snorting softly, Dick folded his arm under his head. "Don liked me." Don was the conductor at the ghost town. He'd talked their ears off the whole way to the station. By the time it was over, he had Don's entire life story and all the names of his grandchildren. Dick had a way of connecting with people that he wasn't fully aware of. It was how he'd been as a kid, too. He engaged with the people around him like a performer would with an audience, but also didn't ask for anything in return.

"Maybe not." That wasn't what Dick wanted to think, but underneath his optimism and positivity, he was a rational person. He didn't make decisions based off of his emotions in the areas of his life relating to vigilantism. That was what he strove for, anyway. It wasn't always successful, especially when he worked independently and he didn't have anyone else's life in his hands. That gave him a certain amount of freedom.

He sighed. "I guess." It wasn't the way he wanted Slade to demonstrate that he cared, but he didn't bother voicing that thought. "I told him he shouldn't drive. Dumb." Rolling his eyes, he sat up enough to finish off the rest of his bottle, and was shocked by how blurry the world got in the meantime. He was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. Leaning over the side of the trampoline, he set the bottle carefully on the roof before stretching out on his stomach instead. "Okay, truth or dare?"

JASON: “Don was two hundred years old and hadn’t seen a living person in a week. Anybody would like you then.” Slight exaggerations on all counts, maybe. “How’s Jimmy doing, anyway? Still hanging out in your backseat? Tell him I said hey.” He’d kept that rouse up for the whole trip - their backseat ghost who’d hitched a ride.

To Jason, there was no “maybe.” There was no true selflessness. They all got something out of helping people, whether it was just the knowledge that they’d saved a life or not. So no, Deathstroke wanting Dick out of the way wasn’t selfless, probably not even a little, but it was better than the alternative, too. It wasn’t his damn relationship either way, but the things Dick kept honing in on were easy to spot from the outside, just like the things he was missing were nearly as obvious.

“Yeah, because driving drunk is the most dangerous thing he’s ever done.” Again, he just offered a derisive noise. He’d ask more, though, after he got past his own turn. He took another drink and stared up at the sky. “Truth. So you don’t dare me to text somebody I love them or something worse.” He’d had enough to drink to answer something, probably.

DICK: "First of all, that town had a population of six." Dick enjoyed the experience so much that he'd taken a million pictures. It was the first ghost town he'd ever been to, but it made him want to look into others that might be nearby. The mine tour was a little creepy, but other than that. Rolling his eyes, he kicked Jason's leg with the edge of his shoe. "Dropped him off with you, actually." That dumb ghost. Dick knew Jason was trying to get under his skin, but he was unnerved by the various stories the tour guide had.

He was still working through the conversation. It left him confused, which wasn't much better than the frozen state they were currently in. Maybe he didn't know what he was going to do about it yet, or what it would look like when he decided, talking to Jason helped clarify some things.

Triumphant, he sat up on his elbows and bit his lower lip. "Hmm." There were at least three dozen things he wanted to know about Jason, but he knew he wouldn't get this chance again. Who knew how many more opportunities he'd have just tonight. It was a rare opportunity and he wasn't going to let it pass him by. "What was your favorite part of the drive? And why?" he added quickly, just in case Jason gave him something monosyllabic.

JASON: “Really? You saw six? I could’ve sworn it was four.” Jason said it completely deadpan, leaving Dick to guess entirely whether or not he was serious. “I guess that’d explain why my mugs keep ending up in different cabinets.” Again, his expression was completely unreadable on its own.

The question was easier than he’d expected, for sure, and thus much easier to dodge. “The 7-11 in Nebraska. I got that blue raspberry Slurpee. Tasted good.” He took another drink and watched Dick over the top of the tumbler, just to see how offended he got by that non-answer. “Your turn. Truth or dare?” He might give him something better than the Slurpee but wasn’t yet convinced.(edited)

DICK: "Six," Dick corrected without hesitation, holding up four fingers. When he realized what he did he laughed. "Maybe I shouldn't have had the whole bottle. And don't joke about that, you don't really know if things like that are real or not." Considering they dealt with gods and goddesses all day long, it wasn't exactly far-fetched.

Rolling his eyes, he shot him a look. "Seriously? It's truth or dare, Jay. You can't lie your way through it. That defeats the purpose." The 7-11. Dick wasn't even going to pretend to believe something that off-hand.

JASON: “Yeah I do.” And he didn’t think he needed to explain again why or how he knew. Not that he had any qualms about doing it. Jason had never and would never shy away from bringing up his death, regardless of company. It had happened and it was his to talk about if he wanted to, even if it was just to debunk some damn ghosts. They weren’t really. There was nothing trapped between life and death, because there was nothing between life and death that he’d seen. It was just one minute on earth and the next, nothing. Less than nothing. There wasn’t awareness to even know the nothing. Whole bottle or not, Dick hadn’t drank enough wine to listen to that, so he didn’t bother. “Maybe I’ve just had some idiot burglar with a gimmick. Organization Man. Marie Kondo gone rogue or something.”

He drained the last of the tumbler, and thus the last of his own bottle, and laid on his back on the trampoline to look up at the sky. It was ridiculous to have the thing on the roof, but since it was there already...it wasn’t exactly hard to find some appeal. At least it was comfortable. “Fine. It was just the actual circus. I’d only ever been that one time.” The one that he’d told Dick about that started the whole idea rolling in the first place, because of course he’d remembered Jason saying it even with the hole in his head. “It was...” he pressed his lips together and mulled it over for a second, “a good follow up.”

DICK: Whenever Jason mentioned his death, joking or not, it made his chest tighten instinctively. He exhaled and tried to look annoyed, but the effort fell flat. It made him reconsider what his response to it should be. Maybe instead of getting upset, he could threaten him with a hug instead. Jason was definitely much more responsive to acts of love than anything resembling an argument. It would definitely be a tactic he hadn't tried before. "Pretty sure it wouldn't be a burglar if you weren't... burgled. You were just organized." Organization Man. "I've heard worse."

Dick didn't expect to get an answer from Jason, even though he'd asked for one. His mind had already searched for the answer on its own, and he'd come up with a few, so he was taken aback by what it actually was. The night he was shot was still confusing when he tried to remember specifics. Some of it he remembered, but there were times when he wondered how much of it were real or just odd dreams patchworked in. "Yeah, it's... it's always weird being back, but they're doing a good job with it." Haly's still had the same appeal. There was a distinctly old-fashioned bent to their advertising and gimmick that made it even more appealing. "Their trapeze act, too. Grade A."

JASON: If he’d been looking at him, he might have seen Dick’s expression change, but that wouldn’t have been anything new. He’d seen the look plenty of times before and it never acted as much of a deterrent. Still, for the moment there was no reason to push it. He’d not even been doing it for a joke. “Maybe he stole a mug. Roy has left some dumb ones over there.” He didn’t even know why. Things just appeared and he had to figure out something to do with them, usually putting them out of sight.

Jason sat the empty tumbler aside and ran his hands down his face. “It looked smaller this time than I remembered, but I guess that’s true about everything.” For Jason, his world as a kid had been incredibly small, usually. It was always day to day, worrying or focusing on what was in front of him because that was what was necessary. Anything outside of that had seemed almost surreal. “Truth or dare? And I need another bottle.”

DICK: "Is that how you explain where his mugs disappear to? Ghosts?" Dick couldn't help a faint shiver even though he was joking - for the most part, at least. "Does he still have the whale whale one? I got that one for him." That was one of his favorites. "For a while it's all we got each other for Christmas." It definitely explained why their cabinets were both full of dumb mugs with puns on them.

Pushing himself up, Dick winced when he felt everything spin. Instead of going himself he made a gesture to the door. "Cabinet. There's two more, I think. Go ahead and bring them both if you want." Not that he would be doing much more of the drinking. Dick didn't have Jason's enhanced tolerance he likely got from the Lazarus Pit. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back against the trampoline. "Wish I got to meet you. The first time you went, I mean. Sometimes I'd take kids my age into the ring with me... depended on the night, though..." He was rambling and the words ran together. "Truth."

JASON: “No, I just put them all in a bag and taken them back over there a the end of the month, so if a ghost wants to save me the trouble they can help themselves.” He wasn’t sure how it was still funny, or why it ever even had been. “Whale, whale, what have we here,” Jason said, shaking his head. Obviously he still had the mug. “Dumb.”

Jason was nearly off the trampoline when Dick said that. He stopped shy of pushing over the metal springs and looked back over his shoulder. Once he’d sat up, he’d been able to tell just how drunk he already was, too. No need for both bottles if he wanted to make it off the roof again. “I’m glad you didn’t. It would have been even harder to leave.” He really didn’t know how much Dick remembered about what he’d said. That night for him at the circus with Willis Todd had been bittersweet. If he’d had even a taste of what it had seemed to him like Dick and his family felt when they performed...leaving it to go back to Crime Alley would’ve been even harder than it had been anyway.

He got off the trampoline and asked his question only when his feet were on the ground and the roof stopped swaying. “You ever think of going back to it again? You’re not a cop anymore. You’ve got time.” He couldn’t travel. Couldn’t actually run off with the circus again. He was curious, though.

DICK: Jason's rendition of the phrase on the mug made Dick laugh richly and for much longer than he normally would have, if he hadn't been drinking. "I got that at Gotham City Aquarium! Back in our Titans days. And by dumb, I think you mean genius."

That was an interesting way to think about it and he hesitated. Maybe that was true. Maybe it was selfish to wish he'd been able to do more in that moment, especially if it led to making things worse for Jason in the future. That possibility defeated the purpose, anyway. "Ever wonder how many times our paths cross without us even knowing it? It's like... I had no idea you were there. If you didn't know about me... if we hadn't been called The Flying Graysons... I'd have just been some kid you saw once. Never would have connected the dots." He pointed at the sky, as if the stars somehow illustrated the point he was making.

"Nah, not really. I mean... circuses travel, you know? I don't really want to leave Star City, even with NOVA gone, I just..." Trailing, he shrugged. "This is where you are. Where our family is. I can't just... pack up and go."

JASON: “No, I meant dumb.” But it probably wasn’t even the worst one that Roy had or the worst one that had ended up in the safehouse. Maybe this would finally prompt him to ask Roy what the fuck all of it was about, anyway.

Jason wasn’t prone to dwelling on a lot of hypotheticals, or at least not wildly useless ones like that. Even if somehow they’d all met a dozen times before, if they didn’t know it, how did it matter? Even if they did know, why did it matter? The fact that he’d ended up with that boy at the circus for an older brother years later was coincidence. It wasn’t as if it changed anything. It was just some weird twist of the universe, a story that had been a little strange to recount. He wasn’t drunk enough to be wistful. “No. But I guess we would’ve went somewhere else on the road trip,” was all he ended up saying. He’d given Dick a lot of sentimentality that night, and maybe he’d have some more to offer, but not for that.

“S’not what I meant. And they don’t all travel.” The one Dick had grown up in did, sure, but there were plenty of places that just had standing buildings. He’d seen them here and there. “You could just make it up. A circus.” With that perhaps odd thought, Jason finally walked back into the apartment proper to get another bottle of wine,  which he did not need, and managed to actually dig the cork out in only a couple of pieces by the time he returned with it.

DICK: Dick enjoyed speculating about things that didn't happen but could have happened, or wondering how everything would have been different if the pieces fell together another way, but he knew Jason wasn't like that. Even in their conversations, it was always apparent that Jason preferred to live in the here and now. He might be angry about things that happened or were still happening, but it wasn't as if those things weren't relevant. It made sense. It was better than torturing yourself with negative possibilities - or positive ones, even, especially if it created some kind of resentment.

While Jason got the wine, he pondered the idea. It was more difficult to make sense of after drinking, and also seemed like a much better idea than it might be later, but he had a few ideas by the time Jason returned with the bottle. "What about like... a circus school? For kids. Like they have programs at universities and stuff, but I mean... little kids." He made a motion to the bottle and held out his cup. "Don't forget to share." That was a lot of wine, but he knew pointing that out would only encourage Jason to drink the whole bottle himself.

JASON: By the time Jason got back, the walk had assured him that he was well and truly drunk after all. Getting back onto the trampoline took a little more concentration than it probably should have, even. Once he’d settled, he poured Dick’s cup and then his own full again. “I’m sleeping here tonight,” he said without preamble, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to sober up fast enough to drive.

The return to what he’d said earlier had him humming as he thought it over. The unnecessary noise-making was a plain sign that he was inebriated, though Dick might not have realized it, and Jason didn’t notice. “Is that a thing? Circus school? Sounds fake.” He took another drink and bowed his head forward. “You should do it. Why not? What else are you doing besides Nightwing and finding reasons not to let yourself have the shit you want? Teach some kids to do flips.”

DICK: Dick couldn't hold back a laugh as Jason struggled back onto the trampoline, even though it also made him dizzy. "On the trampoline? It's pretty comfortable, actually. I've done it." Flinging an arm over his eyes, he took a deep breath and tilted his head up just enough to take another drink of wine. "Might need to get some blankets though," he mumbled. "S'a lot colder lately."

Snorting softly, he rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips felt tingly. "It is a thing," he insisted. "Some universities have it. What about the younger kids, though? I'm telling you... circus performance is a dying art." It was an interesting thought, and one that Dick pondered further as he rolled over on his stomach and balanced his cup precariously on the padded ledge. Resting his head in his arms, he spoke up after a long pause, his voice muffled, "Truth or dare?"

JASON: “Meant your apartment, but I don’t know if I’m getting back off of this thing. Sleeping outside isn’t that bad.” Certainly not in California. Jason raised up enough to take a long drink and sat the wine aside. If it spilled, he wouldn’t be mourning it, really. He’d had more than enough, and when he looked up at the sky the little dots of stars wouldn’t stay still anymore.

“So teach kids some flips. If you want it done and nobody else is doing it, what’s the reason not to?” Or the excuse. Jason was a big believer in action. If it needed done and wasn’t getting done, anything less than making moves toward it was just whining, really. “You got money and time and knowledge. About this, anyway.” He laughed at his own dig much easier and maybe even louder than he normally would have. In the moment, it was hilarious. “Truth.” He was too far gone to do anything but lay there and speak.

DICK: "Have you ever been camping? In the woods?" Dick's voice was still muffled and his words slurred together. "Always wanted to try it. Like with a tent. S'mores. Alfred let me camp in the backyard once, but it's not really the same." He knew that wasn't what Jason was referring to when he talked about sleeping outside. Just thinking about it made his heart sink.

He nodded, which was more difficult than usual with the heavy weight of his arm over his eyes. "I think I know just the space for it, too." It would take some time, but what else did they have going on? Not a whole lot.

Dick was quiet for almost a full minute before deciding on the question he wanted to ask. "Why Red Hood?"

JASON: “Nope.” Easy answer. “Never left Gotham until I met Bruce and you know he didn’t do it.” Take him camping. “Probably doesn’t even...know how,” he trailed in the middle and closed his eyes, feeling his head swim a little. “The man can design a utility belt with 70 working parts but probably can’t pitch a tent.” He didn’t know if that was true, but it’s not like he’d been given reason to think otherwise. Besides, he’d spent enough time living outside, doing it for fun as a kid hadn’t really been something he’d considered even wanting.

Jason decided to wait and see if Dick was really considering it, the circus school, before he mentioned it again. If it died as a drunken conversation, he wouldn’t push. It wasn’t a bad idea, though. It was energy going toward something rather than just sitting idle.

That question got him to open his eyes again and he looked over. “You don’t know?”

DICK: "Can't even imagine Bruce camping." It was an amusing thought. "I always thought I'd want to camp in Alaska, but it was a lot colder than I expected." Not that the ice caves were warm, but the stove they'd been allowed made it warm enough. It had definitely been a unique experience. "You'd like it. Or have you already been?"

The idea would come to him again the next day, the first day that waking up wouldn't be met with the intense desire to go back to sleep.

What did he know? Dick knew where the alias originated, but that wasn't his question. Not really. "Not what it means to you, no. I mean..." Trailing, he cracked his eyes open and groaned as the sky spun out of control. "Don't look up, Little Wing. Clouds. Look funny."

JASON: “To Alaska?” he shook his head. “Not had a reason to yet. Seems like the place to go when I don’t want to see anybody anymore.” If he managed to live long enough to retire (unlikely) maybe it’d be somewhere like that. Remote. Unbothered. When Jason imagined the incredibly hypothetical and ridiculously unlikely scenario where he ever stepped back and away from the life, he still saw himself alone when he did it.  That wasn’t reflective of his situation right then, but he still struggled to visualize that sticking in a permanent way. It was too dangerous to let himself. Nobody needed to know that, exactly. It was just the image in his head.

He didn’t know if he was too drunk or not drunk enough for that conversation, but it wasn’t like he’d taken on the moniker for no reason. There was an answer, though. An easy one. “It was Joker’s,” that part Dick knew. “And after what he did, I decided to make it mine. Not like I’m a product of nothing. Red Hood is what Gotham, Batman, and the Joker spit out.” He scoffed at the warning and looked up just because he’d mentioned it. They did look funny, and he’d soon closed his eyes again against it. “So here I am.”

DICK: "I mean... there are other reasons to go," Dick pointed out, rolling his eyes and then immediately regretting it as another wave of dizziness washed over him. He'd sent the video of the ice hotel to Jason and Tim, fascinated by the artistry of it, and taken dozens of pictures. "Days are so short, though. You have to get up early." That was the only part he'd had difficulty adjusting to. He was a night owl in all senses of the word, not just because his work as Nightwing made him nocturnal. "I dunno if I'd actually camp though." The cold and the wilderness didn't exactly make it tempting.

That was the explanation he'd expected, more or less, but it didn't make him feel any better to hear it confirmed. "Never considered it might have worn out its welcome?" Dick's eyes cracked open and he glanced over at Jason, studying what he could see of his face. It made sense why he'd adopted it at first, there was a certain dramatic flair in the statement, but a lot had changed since then. It'd been years. "I don't know. M'just saying that... you're not really the same as you were back then."

JASON: “Never been a big fan of early.” But he wouldn’t mind missing out on most of the day, either. Anything he needed to do could be done at night, couldn’t it? He usually slept through most of the sun, anyway. But he wasn’t quite ready to hole himself away in Alaska yet, regardless. Something to keep in mind, though, should the desire ever come knocking. Jason’s attachment to and anchor in the world might not last forever - something he always kept in the back of his mind, almost like a talisman to hold onto. The control. I could leave. He wouldn’t, but he could. He had that power, still.

His face felt hot, despite the cool air that came after dark, and if he had one more drink of wine he was positive he’d be sick on that fucking trampoline. “Maybe not to you,” he muttered, because that much was true. Things were different with the two of them. Otherwise, though? He was still Jason Todd. Still Red Hood. He was still exactly that person, as far as he was concerned, maybe just a fraction less loud about it. Very abruptly, maybe to demonstrate it, he flung the wine bottle to the side and let it smash against the roof top. The sound of breaking glass was brief but distinct. “I’m out.”

DICK: "Works in our favor, right?" Dick meant to shrug, but his body felt too heavy for him to manage it with any success. The alcohol made him feel as if he were filled with sand. He considered going and getting some water, but the kitchen seemed ridiculously far and he was pretty sure he wouldn't make it to the door. "Imagine if Bruce were Roosterman." Not that Dick had been taken in because Bruce wanted a sidekick. He wasn't wholly convinced of Bruce's reasoning, if it were for his image or because he felt sorry for him. Maybe it was a mix of both. One thing was for certain, though: he hadn't exactly been father of the year. Jason's beginnings were much different, of course, and possibly even more complicated.

The sound of breaking glass made him jump. "Jay! You're going to step on that in the middle of the night." He should get up, get a broom, but even shifting position made him groan. "Don't step foot off this trampoline."

JASON: “Long as we’re not trying to pretend to be normal, sure.” It wasn’t like they needed a 9 to 5 job, even though Dick had so stupidly kept trying to do that. Jason had never done that. The closest he’d gone to “legitimate” was when he and Roy had landed those few gigs with the government, but that still wasn’t exactly an above the ground kind of thing. He had no particular desire to just live like the masses - he’d never done it, no matter which side of the coin he landed on, and didn’t feel like he was missing out.

“M’wearing boots,” he pointed out, though the words were all sort of slurred together. He wasn’t getting up. Instead, he moved enough to get his jacket off and throw it over him more like a blanket. Fuck it. The trampoline was kind of comfortable. He mumbled something beneath the collar of the jacket that might have been “night,” though it was difficult to tell. He wasn’t going anywhere, either way.

[swshadowcouncil]

It’s pretty ironic in retrospect that when the Sequel Trilogy began, there was a large pushback from racists and bigots that a black man and a woman couldn’t be the protagonists in the newest trilogy of Star Wars movies. People were honestly trying to boycott it because a white guy wasn’t the protagonist.

Now years later, the trilogy has come almost full circle with people refusing to see Finn as the co-protagonist of the ST or John Boyega as the male lead. I mean, if we want to look at it deeply enough, some people don’t even think Rey is the true protagonist, but Kylo is. It’s rather funny, in a sad way with the lack of self-awareness, that there are so many fans of the ST (Sequel Trilogy) that have forgotten, or don’t know, that originally there was a giant pushback for these heroes not to be the protagonists, yet years later, fans are echoing the intent of these people without realizing it. Finn has been sadly the biggest victim of this ironic mess. From being one of the central characters in all of the marketing, merchandise, advertising, and basically present and in full view of everything ST related, to slowly being forcibly pushed way into the back and made small enough on posters, merchandise, and media coverage at times that you actually need to zoom in or hunt down a trusty magnifying glass to find him.

The problem has extended from the #boycottstarwarsvii movement on social media in response to Boyega’s casting in 2014, to Lucasfilm (LFL) allowing multiple artworks to be created with Finn excluded, placed in the back, or smaller than the supporting characters, to the EU stories where he is sidelined, depicted as a joke, or generally just treated in a way that would make any sane black person, or person in general, go “Yikes!”. This isn’t an easy conversation to have, nor is it something many people even know how to approach, but from the perception of many fans, especially black fans and other fans of color, this comes across as pretty racist at best. So, without further delay, let us begin.

#BoycottStarWarsVII

Friendly reminder, when people bash the idea of Finn being Force Sensitive, you make this guy smile.

Yeah, I’m not going to sugarcoat this, John being cast as Finn, the male lead/protagonist, alongside Daisy’s Rey, the female lead/protagonist, was met with a LOT of backlash. For those who don’t remember, or just weren’t following the TFA like a lunatic like other losers (me), there was a hashtag going around, #BoycottStarWarsVII, which if you couldn’t tell from the title, was for the boycott of TFA. The main reason for this all circles back to John Boyega being the lead that had many bigoted racists in their feelings (translation: mad).

How bad was it? Well, let me just show you:

  #gallery-0-37 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-37 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 100%; } #gallery-0-37 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-37 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

These are the ones I can actually post. The others I have kept/found I won’t be posting due to the content in them being beyond disgusting. This was all over the place. Racists were rejecting the idea of a black male lead in Star Wars tooth and nail to the point of demanding people to boycott the newest movie.

So, how did the boycott go?

If you look closely, you can see Bob Iger’s tears of joy next to the dollar signs

Yeah, it failed on every level imaginable!

Something interesting about it though was that while some people were speaking up about the racist treatment that had been thrown at Finn:

You’re a good man, Trevor Noah. Thank you.

Others had remained silent on it completely. There was an odd amount of radio silence on how the public was treating Finn and his actor John Boyega, and looking back on it now, when there is still a great amount of pushback against the character and actor, I can’t help but feel that silence was a choice, rather than ignorance. Which brings me to the main topic of this very article:

#WhereIsFinn?

The #WhereIsFinn movement was created by fans of the character who started to notice something…odd. Now, I can’t actually pinpoint the first moment Finn’s erasure had started, but I do remember the most prominent and famous one that many in the community still remember to this day, and that was the Chinese Poster for The Force Awakens.

Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again

Oh, this kriffing poster! Years later and my blood still boils like Anakin’s did on Mustafar! Now, I’m not pointing any fingers at any one individual at Lucasfilm, yet I highly doubt that if Rey was made smaller than a BB-8, or if Kylo was taken off of the poster, whoever said yes to this would have had the same response. Finn was made significantly smaller on the official Chinese poster for TFA. Now, for those reading this who don’t know, racism against black people isn’t just an American thing, I know, surprising, right? It’s something that happens everywhere, and movies with a black lead don’t usually do well overseas. So, someone made Finn smaller, and it somehow slipped through the cracks. A one-time thing though, right? It was a mistake and it’d never happen again. Lucasfilm would never try to make the co-protagonist of the sequel trilogy smaller or treat him with disrespect…right?

  #gallery-0-38 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-38 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-38 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-38 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Well, I guess that’s one way to avoid the Chinese poster situation. Just make him small by default

Rian, turn on your location. I just want to talk.

Johnson…just…why?

The longer you look at this image, the more you likely will want to die inside.

Don’t worry, guys. We got rid of the black character for now!

I’m like 85% sure the Nines (TR-8R) is making these with Phasma.

Well this is just erase. Not much to say about it. Finn’s not even here, I guess he wasn’t in TFA or TLJ.

I don’t know if making Finn smaller than Poe, and shoving him behind Chewie, is an accurate depiction of who were the protagonists of TFA

Just…why is it always Finn?

No, for those of you wondering, Finn isn’t allowed to even win the fight. BB-8 does and Poe lectures Finn.

Okay, why is Poe constantly being made bigger than Finn? Would this be approved if he was made bigger than Rey? Did someone sell their soul to Papa Palptine?

It sounds petty, but notice Rey and Kylo aren’t being made small, Poe, who’s not the co-protagonist, is made fairy decent sized, but Finn again is placed behind him and smaller.

Yeah, it’s been a LONG few years

Some of this is official artwork, some of these are posters, others are book covers, the backwards tux is how Rian Johnson thought Finn couldn’t dress himself, the leaky bacta suit was included in the film, etc.  These are far from the only times Finn has been made small or been made a fool of since post-TFA Star Wars, but I wanted to give some type of understanding to what’s going on. Now, I know some people may be wondering: “Well he’s there. What’s the big deal?”

Well, to understand what it’s a big deal, you have to understand how Finn originally was marketed and depicted.

  Regardless of your views on if Finn is Force Sensitive or not–which, if you’re doubtful, let me shamelessly plug another article I wrote about there being two awakenings in TFA (click here)–Finn was always presented as the male lead of the ST: heroic, brave, and important to the story. The idea of him being just as important to the ST as Rey, or the antagonist Kylo, wasn’t something that people scoffed at, which is a stark contrast to how things are going now.

Through these last few years, there has been a trend of individuals trying to remove Finn’s importance from Star Wars, whether it be by depicting him as smaller than characters he’s narratively bigger than, leaving him off of posters and artwork, depicted him as a joke in various forms of media like comics or books, or even just cropping him out of pictures completely. There are even attempts to make him seem less important on Wookieepedia or TvTropes.com, and it’s having a domino effect with how the powers that be see the character. Disney and Lucasfilm are businesses at the end of the day, and like any business, they do what’s best for them first and foremost. If certain fans and media go out of their way to erase, sideline, or mock Finn, then Disney and Lucasfilm will not try to course correct it, but rather let it continue or make less content for the character. Then fans of the character get less interested in content regarding Finn, and the cycle continues.

At first, many didn’t think much of it, yet as time went on, the number of instances that it seemed people were going out of their way to depict Finn as a supporting character or sidekick were starting to pile up. Its honestly become a trend now that if new content is coming out that has to do with the sequel trilogy era, you might as well play bingo for one of the ways Finn will be depicted.

We have him pushed to the back, looking like a supporting character/sidekick:

  #gallery-0-40 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-40 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-40 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-40 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Finn is once again in the back, with lighter skin for some reason???

Finn once again is made smaller and has lighter skin…okay

How are there 3 different versions of this cover and Poe’s head is still orbiting Tatootine while Finn is smaller than Darth Vader’s will to live?

Is Phasma the one green lighting these? Is she still mad?! She’s probably alive! Nobody is ever really gone, remember! Maul does!

If that’s not your flavor, then we have The Rise of Skywalker media coverage, which consists of basically Rey and Kylo, with article writers that seem to forget everything about the last two movies and can’t remember that they’re not on Archive of Our Own anymore.

  #gallery-0-41 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-41 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-41 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-41 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

The Journey to Rise of Skywalker really isn’t doing too hot for anything Finn related, if you couldn’t tell by the giant orbiting space station that is Poe’s head on the cover for Resistance Reborn. In Spark of the Resistance, Finn isn’t even in the book, sent off on some subplot with Chewie that likely we’ll never hear from again. Maybe he went back to Canto Bight to free the slave children instead of the horses. Side note, whose idea was it to have the former slave child of two decades (Finn) not even comment on the slave children at Canto Bight? Oh…yeah, never mind. There’s also Resistance Reborn, which is again more about Poe than anyone. There’s even a scene where Poe has to tie Finn’s tie because he doesn’t know how to do it, and so many people are now flashing back to the backwards tux.

At this point, I can already hear that person who always appears in discussions about Finn saying “Who cares? He’s just a supporting character who was a janitor. John isn’t the male lead”

First of all, go jump into a Sarlacc pit!

Second, let’s talk facts:

Huh, Finn sure does have a LOT of screen time for someone that doesn’t matter. Oh, well. Maybe, he was there for moral support.

As of both TFA and TLJ, Finn comes in 2nd to only Rey, while having 15 more mins of screen time than Kylo. In fact, in two movies, Finn has more screen time than Han or Leia had in their first two OT movies. Hell, Finn almost has as much as Obi-Wan did in his first two PT movies and Finn lost around 16 mins of screentime because he had the most deleted scenes out of TLJ. 7 deleted scenes if you’re curious. No, I don’t know why, beyond the fact that one of them had more Canto Bight in it, and yeah, that one should have been cut.

See, that’s the funny thing I’ve never understood about people saying that Kylo is the real co-protagonist and male lead, or that Poe is bigger narratively than Finn. Finn still has more screen time than Kylo in both TFA and TLJ and Poe isn’t even in the same league as Finn’s screen time in either of his two film appearances.

Further, John’s Finn represents something not seen in the Star Wars franchise ever before – the first and only black lead of any Star Wars movie let alone trilogy. Lando and Mace Windu didn’t exceed 10min of screen time in any of their films, and Ahmed Best’s Jar Jar in The Phantom Menace was severely reduced and nearly erased following the toxic backlash that drove the actor to contemplate suicide. And while James Earl Jones’ voice of Darth Vader is a timeless and iconic addition of black voice acting to the Star Wars franchise, Finn, and Finn alone, represents something more as a leading face of the concluding arc to arguably the most successful episodic series in cinematic history.

The real problem here is that there are people in the Star Wars community that just don’t want Finn to be the co-protagonist, the irony of which is amazing since it’s just the TFA boycott all over again. For every time someone says that Finn is the co-protagonist of the ST, there will be someone there to comment that he’s not. Kylo is, or in fact, Kylo is the SOLE protagonist of the ST and Rey is below him. So the irony that originally racists and sexists were boycotting the ST because they didn’t want to have a woman and a black man as the protagonists, have now turned into “fans” in general claiming that the true protagonist of the entire sequel trilogy is Kylo, the white guy.

Ironic indeed, papa Palpatine

Now, people putting Kylo above Finn isn’t the only cause of Finn’s erasure. As you can tell above or in recent merch or artwork, Poe is being depicted in front of Finn, bigger than him, more heroic, etc. Now, there is no problem with Poe getting more of a spotlight. But when every single thing that comes out is constantly depicting Poe, a character who is at best a supporting role that was upgraded to the status of one of the main characters in TLJ, as bigger and narratively more important than Finn, who dominated the marketing for TFA and still has more narrative presence in the trilogy than Poe, it comes off as colorism at worst and biased favoritism at best from LFL. Recently there’s been a drought of actual Finn content that treats the character with respect or even content at all with him in it at all. Meanwhile, the EU for the ST is practically filled with Poe to the point of arguably oversaturation for some. Now, I like Poe and I like Oscar, and maybe others can’t see it because they’re not used to colorism, but as a black man myself (Kenyan-Brazilian to be exact), I’d be lying if I said that elevating a white-passing Latino man of color like Oscar’s Poe while slowly erasing a darker-skinned Black man like John’s Finn doesn’t look like clear colorism on LFL’s part from the perspective of many black fans. For black fans, it seems like there is a constant battle to remind people of Finn’s status in the trilogy while everyone is trying to put Kylo and Poe above him.

  #gallery-0-42 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-42 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-42 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-42 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Since 2016 when Finn’s erasure started to take place, people on social media have been trying to bring attention to this problem, yet they’ve been met with others in the fandom ignoring them, or suddenly saying it doesn’t matter and changing the topic. In fact, recently, while even more people have been trying to bring attention to #WhereIsFinn, the #WhereisRose tag was created. Not only was it picked up by Nerdist, but major social media accounts agreed there was a problem with how Rose (who, mind you, is a supporting character) wasn’t on the initial merch, but were silent about the co-protagonist being shoved in the back behind Poe, made smaller, or not being present in the marketing in the same levels he was at the start.

  #gallery-0-43 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-43 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 100%; } #gallery-0-43 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-43 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

I’m not knocking you for trying, Nerdiest, but it’d help if you also talked about #WhereIsFinn that has been going on since 2016.

It’s actually ironic that OP has never touched on Finn’s erase or his placement in the back…

The thing about #WhereIsRose is not that it’s a bad thing to bring attention to the fact that Rose isn’t in the TROS marketing or merch, it’s the fact that these same people who are fighting for what they feel is an injustice, are totally ignoring the blatant racism and erasure of what’s going on with Finn. The difference is, some of these people aren’t even overtly racist, but they are against the idea of Finn being the co-protagonist. So this erasure of him isn’t seen as a bad thing, it’s seen as what should be. For instance, there is a vocal shipping community in the Star Wars fandom that has ironically been echoing many of the same things that the bigots did when the ST began. Only instead of the bigots who said “Finn shouldn’t be,” you have shippers saying “Finn isn’t” whenever it is said that Finn is the co-protagonist, or the male lead, etc, etc.

Another puzzling aspect of #WhereIsRose, is that if the objective co-lead of the trilogy is getting sidelined, or artistically segregated into tiny portrayals with the other black characters, what hope is there to give a supporting POC character proper justice and representation? In fact, we’ve seen the result of successfully gaining attention for #WhereIsRose without any thought or consideration for #WhereIsFinn.

Take for instance this The Rise of Skywalker art (below), which segregated the black characters to be much smaller than Poe, and left out Rose. After the artist acknowledged #WhereIsRose backlash, the artist then added in Rose, placing her in front of the other black characters. In doing so, the art now further segregates and minimizes the black characters behind Rose and under Poe. The artist has yet to acknowledge the #WhereisFinn trend pointing out the artistic segregation even though they were quick to acknowledge the #WhereisRose trend AND act upon it.

  #gallery-0-44 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-44 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 100%; } #gallery-0-44 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-44 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Approving artistic representation such as that above spells out an extremely negative portrayal of ALL black characters, since not a single one of them could break a bigger feature than Poe – a secondary supporting character. Regardless of the artist’s intent, and without their responding to or acknowledging the #WhereIsFinn trend – it sends a message of favoritism and apathy at best, and accurately portrays colorism and anti-blackness at worst.

You see, that is in of itself is part of the reason why #WhereIsFinn even exists. Finn’s erasure is coming from all sides at this point, and only certain fans even care about it or recognize it, most of them being fans of color who are openly getting ignored or mocked. I’m not saying it has to be #WhereIsFinn vs #WhereIsRose, but if you think the lack of Rose merch is a problem and gives a voice to the racists and sexists, and see ZERO problems with Finn’s erasure and sidelining over the last few years, then there is a severe problem with how you are seeing the world and its problems with race. No, it is not right for a black man to be the co-protagonist, be on equal footing with two other white characters, then years later be placed in the back of everything or not even shown at all. There is a problem with this and people need to see it. No one is saying that we shouldn’t ask about Rose, regardless of if she is a supporting character or not, but all we are asking, and by we, I’m now referring to myself and many black fans at this moment, is that the same type of energy be used to help defend Finn and John Boyega from the racist treatment that has been going on since 2014.

People stood up for Rey, people are standing up for Rose, yet whenever it is time to stand up for Finn, no one does a damn thing. All many fans of Finn are asking for is that the same effort people give in fighting sexism or racism against other characters, they do the same for Finn.

But to be the devil’s advocate, for once in this argument, let me tackle why #WhereIsFinn isn’t picking up the same coverage that #WhereIsRey did get and #WhereIsRose is now picking up.

People. ARE. TIRED.

There is nothing more disheartening for a black fan, or a fan of Finn in general, who really wants good content for the character, than to be met with a comic that projects the negative attitudes that the fandom has for Finn by calling him a janitor in the description or having him scream “fear my mop!” while dirty water drips on his shoulder as Kylo stares him down. Regardless of Canon already debunking multiple times that Finn wasn’t just not a janitor, but rather one of the best cadets that the stormtrooper program ever had, seeing Finn depicted as a joke or a sidekick just makes fans and non-fans of the character not want to even consume his content. No one wants to see their heroes constantly made to look bad, and that’s something parts of the community and LFL do at times, which has a domino effect on how people absorb Finn content.

The second reason, that is in relation to everything we’ve talked about, is that Finn barely gets good, solo content made for him at all. There aren’t even many people championing for the character to be seen anymore because of the fact that all attempts to bring awareness to this problem, have fallen on deaf ears. There isn’t an “FN-2187 comic series or novel” that is used to flesh out Finn’s life and suffering when he was in the First Order while providing world-building for the FO and its characters. There isn’t a “Finn’s journal” that helps dive into the character’s inner POV and feelings throughout his adventure. In contrast, there has been a decent amount of solo content for Rose, Rey, Poe, and as of recently, Kylo, yet we still have nothing for standalone for Finn that’s detailed and personable.

  #gallery-0-45 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-45 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-45 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-45 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

The comics that come out give fans of the other characters have moments like this:

  #gallery-0-46 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-46 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-46 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-46 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

As Finn was being lectured by Poe, the fandom cheered because it looked like Poe was in a Jedi Robe.

A Rey comic that explores her abandonment issues before leaving to find Luke’s fish nun island

This one IS a Kylo comic, where he’s doing backflips and screaming ‘Your God is dead”.

Hux’s comic, that dives into some of his past trauma and his nightmarish adventure with Kylo “I haven’t showered in a month” Ren

Poe doing his best Captain Kirk impression as he dressed like Spock

And Rose and Paige remembering their sad childhood

Snoke’s comic that is basically a Kylo comic featuring Snoke

Phasma just being Phasma

Rey kicking names and taking ass

General Princess Space Mom and Rose. No jokes here. Move along.

While what little Finn fans get looks like this:

  #gallery-0-47 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-47 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-47 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-47 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

First image of we see of a comic featuring Finn, is him getting wrecked by some steroid using alien. Spoiler alert, he doesn’t win the fight and he’s lectured after. Yay!

After years of trying to make it clear Finn wasn’t a janitor by citing Lucasfilm’s own canon, Finn’s comic description calls him a janitor, shows a preview of him playing with a mop he doesn’t know how to use. Why? Who the kriff knows

It’s rather hard for people to feel anything but disappointment for this character they cared about because of how he’s been handled, and that disappointment is having a negative effect on how everyone in the community, media, and even Lucasfilm treats Finn.

This character means something to people:

This character is an inspiration to many black fans, not just because he’s the lead in one of the biggest franchises in all of cinema, but because he’s someone who was oppressed by a system that enslaved him and chose to be better, to do the right thing, and stand up for what’s right, regardless of what the cost of it was to him. Seeing so many people at LFL, in the Star Wars community, and in the media not only refuse to treat the character with any respect, but also act like he deserves disrespect, is heartbreaking to many many fans of Finn who relate to the character, regardless of their skin color, age, or gender.

  #gallery-0-48 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-48 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-48 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-48 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

It doesn’t matter what you are in this world. We all want the same thing in life, and that’s to feel like we belong. This article isn’t being written to target anyone, it’s not being written to start any fandom drama. The reason this article exists is that there are a lot of fans not getting their voices heard when it comes to trying to fight for Finn, and we want to give that voice a platform. We want people to hear them because this message is important. FINN. IS. IMPORTANT. He’s important for reasons of representation, he’s important to people who want to believe they can change their life for the better, and he’s important to the story of this trilogy. All we’re asking, all anyone is asking, is for him to get the treatment he deserves from the media, community, and LFL. That is why people are asking where is Finn.

  “Finn could not simply be a sidekick or key ally in the story; he needed a story arc of his own. For the first time, The Force Awakens offered a Star Wars film in which two characters, not only one, are undertaking the Hero’s Journey.”

“Each of these archetypes appears in the Hero’s Journeys of Rey and Finn – but not always in the same way or with the same character in the respective storylines. This makes The Force Awakens an interesting study in the use of archetypes.The Hero, of course, is the central protagonist of the journey. In Rey’s adventure, she is the Hero; in Finn’s adventure, he bears that mantle and Rey fills a different archetype.” – Tricia Barr

Thank you for reading, and may the force be with you…Always.

Where is Finn?: The Erasure and Sidelining of a Star Wars Protagonist #StarWars #WhereIsFinn #WheresFinn It's pretty ironic in retrospect that when the Sequel Trilogy began, there was a large pushback from racists and bigots that a black man and a woman couldn't be the protagonists in the newest trilogy of Star Wars movies.

[dragonofyang]

From the Sock Puppet’s Mouth

Well folks, good news and bad news.

Good news: the ABTV interview on March 4th confirmed for us that WEP is the reason for the last-minute changes and that certain things were fought tooth and nail for until they came down and axed it.

Bad news: WEP is still using the EPs as their meat shields to hide behind, and despite not being really able to refuse, Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery still said some fucked up shit in this interview and the one before. And we probably should gird our loins for the next interview with Let’s Voltron!

But Yang, why in the fuck are we not going after the EPs, then?

The answer to that and why this is happening is three little letters, my friends.

NDA.

Non-disclosure agreements.

AKA the bane of your existence. And ours. And almost certainly JDS, LM, voice actors, animators, and literally anybody who has to comply with the season 8 we got back in December and the resulting fallout.

These are fairly standard in lots of situations where you’ll be working with confidential material, stuff like stories, military paperwork, movie production, that sort of thing. They generally tell you that you can’t spill the beans until a certain date when the contract expires, or when the information becomes public knowledge and the need for secrecy is lifted. Pretty standard in the entertainment business, keeps people from getting spoiled to trade secrets or important plotlines and ensures that you can trust your employees with whatever you need done for the project in question.

One other thing that these pesky little pieces of paper do is give your employer (say, the owner of a franchise or a superior officer), the ability to order you what to say just as easily as what not to. Don’t believe me? Look up interviews with the people who were in The Last Airbender (yeah… THAT movie). During production and when it was new, they all said how excited they were to work on the movie and be a part of it, but once those magical dates came by to free them of their legal obligations, they spilled more tea than the American revolutionaries did back in Boston. As soon as they wouldn’t get sued, they changed their tune about working on TLA.

Sometimes you just don’t like a project, sometimes your boss is a dick, whatever, but the fact is, if you sign one of those little things titled “Non-Disclosure Agreement”, you are bound by law to say whatever your boss tells you to. It’s very much a “they say ‘jump’, you say ‘how high’” situation. The only time this sort of shit doesn’t apply is if it implicates you in a crime. So like, your boss can’t embezzle money and then tell you to say you did it, or that you helped, or whatever. If it means you’ll get pressed charges, then you’re free to stand up and say “fuck this noise” and leave.

But JDS and LM aren’t being forced to admit to a crime, as heinous as some of what they’ve said in the past two ABTV interviews was. I’ll admit, I saw red the first time I heard the interviews on February 25 and March 4, but ya know fuckin’ what? That was the goal. Those interviews were meant to be a targeted blow against those of us in the VLD fandom who want the real s8 and for the characters to get their stories told correctly, rather than the slipshod stoic nonsense that ultimately created a story with zero meaning.

WEP/World Events Productions/Bob Koplar holds the Voltron intellectual property. JDS and LM are their puppets right now because unless they’re ordered to admit to a crime or otherwise break the law, they could be ruined legally, financially, and closed off from their trade. Would it be nice if they stuck to the scruples they displayed back when the show first started? Fuck yeah. I’d love it if they said, “screw it, here’s the real s8 with the heroine’s journey and the parallel storylines and the ending you deserved to see and get catharsis with.”

Fact is, they can’t, but we, who have never signed an NDA with WEP, DreamWorks, or Netflix or whoever the fuck else is involved, can.

They’re lying, yes, and they said despicable things that would make anybody’s blood boil, but the fact is they’re just the unfortunate human shields that will let WEP get away scot-free and it sets a very dangerous precedent about what happens when a story is being told and someone up top doesn’t like what they see. The narrative LM and JDS are being told to spin is that when the writers left, they went ham and ruined the story and that the real season 8 would be worse than the concoction we got on December 14. LM and JDS have said awful shit as WEP tries to demoralize fans and chase them off from going after the original season 8 and deflecting blame off where it should be aimed. But why would they have to write a story that’s animated and would have been completed before the writers left? LM said it herself that animation is extremely ahead of schedule compared to releases, and if you’re a fan of HTTYD like myself, you’ll know that the third movie’s release date had to be pushed back multiple times to account for the animation schedule because they failed to accurately project when it would be complete, and so pushed it back as opposed to releasing a shoddy product.

It’s simple enough to realize that the story being spun is just logically fallible and factually untrue, but because so much of what’s been said has been attacking the fandom, it’s easy to believe it. I almost wanted to believe that, too. It’s easy when there’s already a face and a name to blame. It’s harder to dig through stinging nettles, even if you know there’s a pot of gold under it all. Luckily I brought work gloves and have friends who know how to wield gardening shears.

We knew before that there was last minute edits to season 8, and @leakinghate did an excellent breakdown of that here in case you want to settle in for a nice read to see what should have been. But the interview on March 4th confirmed multiple times that the problem with the changes and story didn’t come from the EPs or even Dreamworks. The pushback came from the IP owners. JDS says so right toward the beginning, about 12 minutes in when he’s talking about Adam and Shiro’s romance. JDS and LM both discuss how it was the IP owners who gave the order to change an already-storyboarded and approved plotline for Shiro, which directly negates their tweet on March 1 claiming that the store has no creative control and the letter Bob Koplar wrote to a few fans, also written March 1, which claimed the same thing and seemed intent on absolving him as a responsible party for s8. Sure, the person tweeting and the person handling orders might not have to approve things, but that account and the store are both owned by WEP, which is easily proven if you dial WEP’s number. But the IP holders got discussed multiple times throughout the entire episode, more towards the first half than the second, which is when what they’re saying gets really screwy in terms of logic and what they’ve said before and general bullfuckery. Until JDS and LM are thanking the hosts for the unprecedented two hour interview and JDS says, “I don’t agree with myself” at 43:03, they were thanking the fans and apologizing for what happened and explaining that it wasn’t them or Dreamworks, but rather the IP holders who were pushing back.

Don’t believe me?

Click to 12:10 of the March 4 interview. JDS talks about Adam and Shiro’s relationship and how it was originally meant to be portrayed, and at the 12:50 mark he says that they got pushback about their relationship, not from Dreamworks, but from “other controlling parties with Voltron.”

Click to 18:52, where JDS mentions how they didn’t have the position as being creators of the IP. He also points out that, “We were, for all intents and purposes, like, started as a show for boys 6 to 11 to sell as much toys as possible.”

Does that phrase bother you as much as it bothers me?

Because it should.

Ever since VLD ended and the fans started pushing back against what got published as season 8, the EPs have been silent, at least for the first two-ish months. They didn’t say a word anywhere publicly about the show or if they liked it, because their NDAs probably had an “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” clause. Generally, that’s the case because part of your job is to build good PR and hype up your project. Don’t believe me? Look at how they were after literally every other season, they came out immediately saying how much they loved it and how much they hoped the fans would too, and when there was pushback about Lotor’s abuse and the colony plot they were like, “please trust us, we want to do his story justice” even when it probably would have served them better to remain silent.

Not with S8.

Until these interviews, nobody talked. And when they finally did start talking?

They all kept saying the same things.

“This is a show for boys and their dads” and “this is a show meant to sell toys to little boys.”

At no point before this did anybody on the production team say anything even remotely related.

You can look for yourself, but I guarantee you won’t find anything. “Boy toy show” has been the go-to phrase for everybody ever since the silence around season 8 broke, and it’s not their words.

It is, without a doubt, from the IP holder.

We were promised that Lotor’s arc would continue and that “there’s a lot that is at play in his brain and his mind,” in the GeekDad article about him. Narratively, Lotor and Allura were meant to foil Zarkon and Honerva/Haggar. We should’ve gotten an alchemist-versus-alchemist showdown and a cool Lotor and Lance arc. Many things that were built up in seasons 1 through 6 were dropped, and if you refer back to Hate’s meta “Seeking Truth in Darkness”, you’ll find her analysis on what was cut, why, and the plot she pieced together based on the inconsistencies in the details of the season 8 that got released. In the latest interview, JDS said, “We were just trying to break the trope, our own trope. You know what I mean? Like Voltron was its own trope and the sort of little nook that we inhabited was, like, sort of boys toys was its own weird tropey situation.”

And despite all this talk of family and love and complexity and breaking barriers, we received two things from December 14 and on: VLD season 8, and silence.

Complete and utter silence.

The VAs were trotted out to face the wrath of the fans at SAC Anime 2019 and there was nary a word to be heard from the EPs, Dreamworks, WEP, Netflix… Nobody had anything to say about the final season of Voltron. The VAs even commented that there were things they were and weren’t allowed to say. And if they wanted to say anything, their NDAs and general social etiquette prevented them from saying whatever was actually on their mind, because I guarantee you nobody happy about the season would have kept silent. Even when all the season 7 backlash happened, JDS and LM asked us as a fandom to please wait and see, because there would be narrative payoff.

Which is why the latest two interviews with ABTV are all the more rightfully infuriating.

In the February 25 interview, LM specifically says that the initial pitch was to kill everybody, everybody would die and that would be the end of it, and that they had to back off from that. After the broken promises of season 8, that’s pretty damn believable to a fandom who’s rightfully hurting and grieving what could have finished a great show. But then with this March 4 interview, she says that she wanted to go Sailor Moon with it and have Allura come back as a baby after sacrificing herself. Kind of hard for those two stories to mesh when the person LM says would raise Allura would also have been one of the ones to die in the initial pitch.

So what exactly is the truth there?

Frankly, I think neither of those ideas is the truth. At least completely.

Why? A) It sounds like a super early pitch idea and B) because their general behavior disagrees with every interview leading up to season 8. Because if LM and JDS were proud of this product that got released, they would have said so and behaved as normal, if maybe a little more reserved due to fandom backlash. Because they wouldn’t be silent and only coming out with interviews after two months and several of #TeamPurpleLion metas that poke massive holes in what exists of season 8, CallVoltron has been sending letters, and #FREEVLDS8 garnered over 30,000 signatures. WEP has been trying to do damage control ever since we as a fandom started putting two and two together about where these disastrous last-minute changes came from, and only when the petition got updated to include WEP as a point of focus did WEP start trying to discredit the fans and meta writers who were coming too close to the truth. Here is a complete list of everything that’s happened since December 14, to give you an idea of just how wild of a ride this has been.

One main consistent thing throughout everything that’s happened since season 8 dropped is that everybody from the EPs up is lying, whether by omission or outright or through someone else, people have been lying like mad. WEP doesn’t want you to know that they own the IP and have strong input, despite confirming it by liking a tweet on February 13 and how you can be directed to their store if you call WEP’s phone number. WEP doesn’t want you to know that they gave the original season 8 the axe. WEP got scared that we got close and so they trotted out their EPs after two months of silence to try and break those of us hunting for the truth. These two interviews, which, mind you, came after what was scheduled to be the last one.

The official story continues to fall apart with every word of these last two interviews, too. JDS says that they were crafting the epilogue for season 8 during the aftermath of season 7, but according to him they completed season 8 back in June.

Again: which is the truth?

I stand with @leakinghate and the rest of #TeamPurpleLion and think that the original season 8 was completed back in June, but that the backlash from s7 and the general disapproval of a story of empowerment caused the truly-eleventh-hour edits to s8. The EPs are being forced to lie to you due to their contracts, WEP wants to keep hiding and lying and calling their customers liars and mocking them. But the funny thing is that the more intricate the lie, the harder it is to keep it straight versus the truth, as evidenced by how JDS and LM seem to be confusing what was in s8 versus what was pitched versus what they were told to say.

So what’s it all mean, then?

It means you should be watching and writing letters and calling WEP and calling them out publicly whenever WEP and Bob Koplar lie to the consumers and customers that express dissatisfaction with their service and their products.

WEP forgets that there is more to fandom than diehard dads and young boys.

The more they ignore the majority of their consumers, the more money they lose, the more faith they lose, and the less people will want to follow their future projects (like if they decide to do an MFE spinoff). Let’s Voltron is coming up with a new episode with JDS and LM, and they’re hoping to get it up soon. I’d just like to remind y’all that it’s scripted and pre-recorded, it’s not live, and it benefits from being the official Voltron podcast and has to keep good relations with WEP in order to retain that status. So don’t stop calling, write letters, hell just leave a Facebook or Twitter review of the business to express your satisfaction or lack thereof with how WEP treats customers and its show and everything. After all, the road to s8 is paved with honesty.

@felixazrael @leakinghate @crystal-rebellion @voltronisruiningmylife