#that was said during an argument between Dick and Bruce for which Jason was present and Danny found them

[bigskydreaming]

Something else to keep in mind is the way things compound? Like for instance, I’ve seen a mini trend of fics lately focusing on the issue of Dick dropping out of college or not wanting to go, which for the record, I feel is another way of building up to the idea that he and Bruce have all these fights during this period that are two way streets instead of like....what canon actually was (reminder that in the canon that Dick actually dropped out he and Bruce actually were never really NOT on good terms, like there’s never been a big fight in the comics about this topic so.....incheresting).

But anyway, my point is its worth keeping in mind that how you frame something at one point in a narrative like.....ideally, you want it to mesh up and align with other things you’ve brought up throughout the narrative, and not accidentally contradict yourself narratively.

I mean, this is really the big gripe most Dick Grayson fans have with his fanon characterization overall:

The fact that it just doesn’t make sense.

In Jason-centric fics that are after his resurrection, how often is Jason utterly convinced that Dick can’t even wipe his ass without Bruce’s approval? And yet in Jason-centric fics that are before his death, how often is Jason thinking about how Dick and Bruce are constantly fighting and Bruce can’t seem to do anything without Dick objecting? Reconcile these two things. They make no sense.

Same thing with fics that talk about Dick being the emotional glue of the family, the one keeping a cool head to calm down everyone else when they’re all taking shots at each other.....until randomly he just pops off without warning because he’s just that hot-tempered. These things mesh, how?

Same thing with Dick being frequently referenced as idealized by the hero community......but every time he interacts with someone like Roy or Kori or other Titans he can’t seem to avoid pissing them off and creating epic grudges. Make it make sense.

Or how Dick disliked or didn’t care about Jason to the extent that he only references him as a cautionary tale because of one line in canon......but the whole damn story where he kills the Joker because of Jason doesn’t count.

Or how its not okay to blame Dick for his own rapes but both of his major breakups which are intrinsically linked to the actions of his rapists like....were clearly and objectively all his fault somehow.

Dick Grayson fans aren’t on board with most of fanon because you can’t sell people on a constantly conflicting characterization that makes no sense and has no internal consistency.....you can only cater to people who don’t NEED to be sold on that because they’ve already decided they’re down with hating a character or largely ignoring him.

And I think people have gotten so used to not thinking twice about contradictory takes on Dick Grayson that they unintentionally undermine their own fics by contradicting themselves without even realizing it.

Like its ridiculously common to come across fics that reference Dick being beloved and charming everyone at the society galas they all have to go to.....but these fics take pot shots at Dick’s name, fashion, mannerisms etc all throughout it just because the author likes it or fans expect it or whatever reason.

But actually THINK about it:

Think how snobby the socialites at these galas are characterized as being any time its Jason their noses are turned down at.....and then look at like.....the constant jokes you as the author make YOURSELF at Dick’s very name, fashion and circus origins......how on Earth does it make ANY sense that these same people aren’t doing the same damn thing about Dick? That they’re actually any more fond of him than they are Jason, if no matter how charming he might be in the moment, the second he turns around its just as easy and likely for them to make a joke about his circus background or name as it is for writers and readers? If you can’t resist doing it, you really think snobby one percenters would bother in-universe?

Hell, they’d be more likely to hate him BECAUSE of his name, his fashion, etc.....because think of how often people not so subtly infer that he’s making a bad choice when he refuses to go by a different name, or dress more accordingly to normal fashions, etc.....

Dick has a million ways he could more easily fit in with the society he was brought into and ease his passage through it, but he puts his foot down at practically every opportunity. The idea that everybody is just dazzled by him at these galas makes no sense because the most consistent character choice made by Dick throughout the decades is that he refuses to CONFORM to others’ expectations of what he should be like. 

EVERY SINGLE CHOICE he makes from his name to his wardrobe to his costumes to his education to his city to his living arrangements and on and on is in complete and utter DEFIANCE of what people expect of the eldest son or ward of Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham, and that’s by Dick’s conscious and consistent choice. He knows damn well how to be more what people want or expect of him, and that’s not what he wants so he says mmmm but also how bout no.

Dick constantly embodies the idea that you can take the boy out of the circus but you can not and will not take the circus out of the boy no matter what environment you place him in or who you surround him with. He will not allow it. He will not play along.

In what universe is that going to endear him to the very people who would most likely view his choice to prioritize the very things they look down upon as something he consciously PREFERS over their projected expectations or assumptions?

Its not.

Personally, I think Gotham high society despises Dick Grayson no matter what they pretend to his face, and he’s perfectly aware of it. And probably gets some kind of trollish glee out of it because fuck them too, anyway.

(And all of that is WITHOUT even taking into account the fact that a good number of the people at these society galas all along were looking at Dick as their future property, given that they were Owl members who knew all along what they intended for their Gray Son. These people simply do not view and treat Dick as an equal. Its impossible. There’s no way).

Or then back to the idea of Bruce and Dick’s fights in his later teenage years being a two way street....

The core problem at the root of all this is the very idea of a two way street implies a certain give and take. A clashing of equals.

And that’s just not the reality in ANY continuity.

Because the question is, in any given fight between Dick and Bruce in ANY canon....

When does Dick ever WIN these fights?

When does Dick get the outcome he wants OVER what Bruce wants? When does Bruce ever cave? When is it NOT Dick leaving the manor without getting what he came for, or even being kicked out? When has Dick ever been able to say no, I’m NOT fired, or no, I’m NOT giving you control over what happens with Robin. Even when he DOES confront Bruce on these matters, Bruce STILL infamously never caves. He never actually apologizes or admits wrongdoing, he still usually tells Dick to leave. Like I said, basically the only time Dick’s ever got the upper hand in an argument was over the college thing and that time it wasn’t even a fight! Bruce didn’t actually care that much! That was the good timeline! LOL.

But there’s never actually a reversal. There’s no real precedent for Bruce caving to a teenage Dick Grayson and saying hey you know what, you’re right here, I’m overstepping or I’m in the wrong or I’m the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about because our divergent life experiences here have mine as less relevant to the issue in question than yours do?

It doesn’t happen.

And here’s the problem with that:

Dick’s a literal genius. Every member of the Batfam is. Its how they’re able to do what they do. They’re ALL smart as fuck, capable as fuck. Put any of them in any other situation where they’re the only Bat present, and everyone usually defaults to them. They know what to do, they know what call to make, their approach is borne out by the narrative as being the correct approach. Their intelligence and strategy is validated by the narrative, with Dick being no exception here. In fact he’s particularly NOTED within canon narratives for being the guy everyone in the DC universe trusts to lead them.

Now.....imagine being this guy, who while although still a teenager, is in his late teens, and has YEARS of leading his own team under his belt. Years of being responsible for the lives of teammates and civilians. Years of becoming aware of and comfortable with his own natural brilliance. Years of becoming confident in being capable of making the right call when the situation demands it. Years of learning to TRUST in his ability to make the right call, to know the right approach, because not only are people relying on him to make those calls, he needs to be able to trust he can make them in order to have the confidence to follow through and DO so instead of being frozen with indecision or trying to pass the decision off to someone else, which he NEVER does?

With all that....and even with all due respect to Bruce’s own genius and experience....

What are the chances that in all the times that Bruce and Dick clash in his late teenage years....

Dick is NEVER right?

And yet.....when in any of these conflicts.....is he ever validated in that, versus shut down by Bruce who insists his way is still right?

Imagine being an acknowledged genius with years of experience and responsibility under your belt, but NEVER getting to be right in any arguments with your father, even when just based off pure freaking statistics, its frankly impossible for you to be 100% wrong EVERY SINGLE TIME?

Do you see where the two way street thing starts to fall apart? How can it truly be a two way street if part of the reason the two of them so often end UP aggressively opposed to each other during this time period.....is because of how many times previous encounters have only ended ONE way no matter WHAT?

It makes sense for Dick and Bruce not to clash as much during their younger years, because even the most stubborn kids do understand on a fundamental level that they have things to learn from more experienced adults. And Dick has never been someone mindlessly predisposed towards conflict. He didn’t become an exceptional acrobat by the age of eight by butting heads with his parents every time they tried to teach him, he couldn’t have. He KNOWS how to listen, he KNOWS how to acknowledge when someone else is right. 

But as he grows older, when he has more and more experience under his belt, more and more confidence in his own insights in large parts thanks to Bruce’s own efforts in buttressing his confidence in his younger years.....what happens when the balance of who is right and who is wrong in their arguments NEVER EVER starts to shift in his direction even a little bit, no matter HOW much more experienced he seems to get....and what happens when communicating this problem, this imbalance, to the person that really matters here, Bruce himself....still inherently requires Bruce accepting blame and acknowledging even just in THIS case, the idea that he’s not always right at this point and Dick has insights that can challenge his?

Of course there’s going to be more and more conflict....but can you truly argue that its a two way street, even just based off THIS? Is the teenage son truly to blame for being frustrated that he’s not allowed to ever be right, because the thing getting in his way is his father never ever being willing to back down or cave or not have the last word?

This is the sort of inherent contradiction I think lies at the heart of a lot of conflicting viewpoints here. It doesn’t matter how much lip service is being paid to the idea that Dick is intelligent, that Dick is respected, if all your content continually bears out the idea that actually no he’s not, because Bruce is always right, Dick never is in the right in arguments or conflicts.

The latter evidence just is not aligning with the former claims, and thus readers are innately forced to make a choice as to which to believe.....and more likely than not, they’re going to err on the side of substantiating whichever stance actually has more narrative support behind it, in any particular story.

See what I’m saying?

You need to make sure your story is ACTUALLY saying what you think you’re saying or you intended to say....or you end up undermining your own intentions.

Anyway. Just throwing that out there. 

[toastedside]

Valentine Blurbs

Batboys (+ Bruce) Valentine Blurbs.

Note: Happy valentine! It’s a month full of love, meaning I can find reason and indulge myself in these fic while pouring my heart for my boys. I hope you find the warmth of love and a little bit of happiness in this.

Prompt: Different ways to say I love you.

Bruce – “I’d rather just hang out with you, if I am honest.”

The ballroom was lavish, gold and black glittered around the room like a prideful emperor march around the city. It was filled with people dressed like they’re going to flaunt everything they have in their pocket, polite laughter and chatter mixed together in the air. You smiled politely as you tried your best to follow Mrs. Harris’s conversation about whatever it is about the latest gossips of the Gotham Elite. She’s an old lady that never learn how to stick her nose into where it belongs, and you hate to admit that some of her stories are indeed interesting.

Champagne on your hand was half empty, and your feet started to get hurt from standing too long. Even after a long way of attending galas and rich parties alike, you’d never get used to it. Maybe you get better at it, sure, but galas are suffocating and painfully exhausting.

You excused yourself after finishing your champagne, eyes darted around to find a slightest sight of your husband. It no longer surprised you, or anyone really, that he had a knack to slip away undetected from this kind of event. You walked through the empty and dark hallways, knowing exactly where he would be as your feet brought you into the balcony.

“I believe we have guests and party to attend, Mr. Wayne,” you greeted him as you inhaled the cold breeze. It was a welcomed change from the suffocating ballroom.

You saw Bruce’s lips twisted upwards. His hand stretched out in a silent invitation for you to join him, in which you gratefully accepted. “I’d rather just hang out with you, if I am honest.”

“It’s an important one. We worked days and night for this.”

“There’s no way to convince you to sneak out from this party, no?” he raised an eyebrow. You wanted nothing but to scowl at him for able to read you like an open book.

“If we go back a little while for ten minutes top, you’d get to hang out with me alone for the rest of the night.”

Bruce smiled. So wide and bright that you were sure the moon above was ashamed of his smile alone. He pulled you gently closer to him, planted a soft kiss into your hairline as he muttered, “Sounds good to me.”

Dick – “I dreamt about you last night.”

Dick pressed his phone lazily into his ear. His eyes still closed as he battling away the drowsiness that kept pulling him in and out of sleep. He could feel the sunlight slowly seeped into his room through the blinds as he listened patiently to the monotone ring on his phone.

“Hello?” you answered after the fifth ring. He figured you’d be out for work by now, but he couldn’t risk to wait for another minute. He smiled as soon as your voice blessed his ear.

“Hey babe,” he greeted. Voice still thick with sleep. “I dreamt about you last night.”

He could hear your breathless chuckle, as if the air had been sucked out of your lungs out of surprise. His lips involuntarily tilted upwards upon hearing your chuckle. Dick reckoned it’s a muscle memory at this point that the corner of his mouth would immediately turn upwards at the sound of your laughter.

“Oh yeah? What was it about?” you asked. Dick could hear the wide smile on your face. He closed his eyes and the image of you smiling with raised eyebrows popped inside his brain.

“You.”

“Hmm, I hope it was a nice one.”

“It was!” he said as he sat up on his bed. Suddenly felt more awake as his brain wrecked hard to replayed the pleasant dream he had. “I slept good and happy. Thanks to you.”

Jason – “I did the dishes.”

Truth to be told, you didn’t know what to expect. You hadn’t had any particular expectation upon how your day would end up be like. The exam waiting for you in two days and endless list of deadlines had been the only thought that plagued your mind. Eating you alive as you tried to hold into the strands of sanity you had left.

You didn’t expect Jason to show up, standing in your kitchen with a sheepish smile as he said, “I did the dishes.”

To think about it, you just realize you haven’t seen him in three days.

You blinked at him. Brain still unable to process the event displayed in front of you. You had come out from your room and head to the kitchen to grab an ice cream. Instead, you found a tall man stood in front of your kitchen sink and your three-days’ worth of dirty dishes done. All squeaky clean and neatly tucked in the cabinet.

“Why?” was the only thing your exhausted brain managed to muster.

Jason shrugged. “I know your study can be overwhelming. Especially since exam week is coming.”

Suddenly, the thought of him filled your brain to the brim. There was no such room for words. Only overflowing thought of him and the feelings you harboured in your chest. Jason stared at you alarmingly, his eyes wide.

“I am sorry,” his voice was above whisper. “Did I upset you?”

You shook your head as you let out a wet chuckle. You hadn’t realized you had been crying. There’s no other place you’d rather be than his arms right now, so you headed straight away into your desired destination. You felt Jason relaxed underneath your touch, and you felt him smile as you captured his lips as you wordlessly said thank you.

Tim – “It reminds me of you.”

No, he had no reason. His eyes merely caught the glimpse of periwinkle and baby’s breath on his way for photo hunting. So bright and pure underneath the sunlight, tucked in the middle of concrete jungle. Like an oasis in the middle of a desert, bright and cheery and inviting. Almost looking like it was out of place.

Tim had subconsciously walked himself towards the flower shop. His camera in his hand, eyes staring straight into the periwinkle and baby’s breath placed next to one another. He couldn’t understand why he had held his breath upon such a mundane sight.

Flowers in a flower shop. Yet it was the most mesmerizing sight he had seen all day.

“What’s the occasion?” you let out a surprised laugh as he showed up and presented a bouquet of periwinkle and baby’s breath.

Tim pressed his lips together. He couldn’t put the dots on why he did what he did. Surprisingly enough he was content with the gnawing fact he had act on his impulse to bought you a bouquet of flowers. It was mesmerizing, beautiful, and he was left in stunned silence upon seeing it for the first time.

You looked up from your present to meet his eyes. A smile still persistently painted across your face. Tim sucked a breath in and held it altogether. Beautiful, he silently thought to himself, almost like it strung out of nowhere. A beauty in a such misshaped place his room is.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning in the daylight. He smiled as he shook his head. He knew he wasn’t the most romantic boyfriend in the whole world, but he would be dammed not to let you know.

“Nothing. It reminds me of you.”

Duke – “Call me when you get home.”

You watched him pouting from the doorframe. You had to physically restrain yourself from pulling him into your embrace and smoothen out the pout on his lips. But knowing Duke, that probably would end up cost you another hour of him clinging into your side.

Duke watched you with arms folded in front of his chest. He looked so mesmerizing underneath the twilight. The sky above was a hue of orange and pink, a hint of black appeared on the line of horizon. Yet your eyes locked into his.

“Stop pouting!” you reprimanded him with a laugh. “You’ve hogged my attention for two days.”

“You’re absolutely mental if you think it was enough.”

“I have my own apartment,” you pointed out, “that I need to occasionally visit and clean.”

Duke knew it was true. He always knew when to back out and when to stood on his feet from an argument with you. Something he had learned fairly fast and well enough. You watched him shook his head with a smile.

“Come here,” he said as he spread his arms. “Give me one last kiss before you go.”

You complied with rolled eyes. His embrace was warm and inviting, you almost not want to let go. He leaned closer to capture your lips and you met him halfway. It was a quick and short one, left you wanting for more.

“Call me when you get home.”

Damian – “I hope you like it.”

Damian clutched a small canvas to his side. He frowned at the sensation of his heart thump inside his ribcage painfully. The sound of loud chatter of his classmates had been drowned by the ringing on his ear. His fingertips felt uncharacteristically cold. Was it the air conditioner?

He let out a quiet sigh. Was it the symptom of flu? Did he accidentally got exposed to a poison during his patrol? He was pretty sure he was fine in the morning. Days before that as well. So, what’s with the pounding heart?

His eyes darted around the packed hallway; mouth pressed together as he silently muttering your name. It was a tedious and hard job to find a person in a packed crowd, let alone a bunch of loud students on a break in a school hallway.

“Damian, hey!” it was you who had spotted him at first. Looked around like a lost and kicked puppy in the middle of a bustling city.

It has always been a funny thing between you two that he hadn’t understand. For some reason, you always had a knack to spot him in a bustling crowd when he hadn’t able to spot you. One thing that escalated almost immediately as soon as friendship blossomed between you and him. He approached you silently, the coldness on the tip of his finger had spread throughout his arms.

“I made you this,” he said as he discreetly shoved a small canvas into your hand. It was a beautiful painting of Alfred’s rose bushes in the garden. He had vaguely recalled you nonchalantly said wanting to see a rose bush in person. “I hope you like it.”

Damian immediately walked away towards his next class before you had a chance to speak. He knew eventually he had to talk about his painting and let you properly said thank you. But for now he would need to find a place to tame his erratic heart and his cold fingers.

[the-middle-grounds]

So now that I have energy and have rewritten this about 5 times!  Blind (and colorblind) Batfam!

*I tried to be as sensitive about how I wrote this since I’m not 100% familiar with the blind community (I know basic etiquette) so if I did something bad or inappropriate, send me an ask with where and what can be fixed!

BRUCE

Bruce’s occipital lobe was severely damaged during the murder of his parents, and he was blinded as a result.

He got Ace, a service dog, to help him with the trauma, as well as helping him get around whenever he wasn’t in the mood to be with Alfred.  The two of them are close.

Bruce eventually started hearing about echolocation in humans, and started to learn about that and even using it.  He’s so proficient in it, he doesn’t even really need Ace anymore, but there’s not a chance in hell he’s getting rid of his best bud.

People know Bruce Wayne is blind, and they try to use it to their advantage.  Bruce is smarter than that, and is very much aware of how shallow people are.

Most people don’t know that Batman is blind, however.  Catwoman is one of the notable people who know, and whenever she’s being playful, she likes to sneak up on him and surprise him.

The Justice League also know, but don’t treat him any differently because why would they?  Dr. Mid-Nite exists for one.

DICK

Dick lost his vision when Hayley’s Circus was set on fire.  While escaping, he was hit by debris and blinded.  By the time he’s a young adult, the scarring is pretty much gone.

In an effort to help out Dick, Bruce helped developed a device that could pinpoint noises.  Dick then proceeded to thank Bruce by using it to get into trouble and play hide-and-seek.

Bruce eventually stopped using Dick as a guinea pig, and offered up the tech to the public.  Dick still kept his, however; even when he left to join the Teen Titans.

Since Dick likes to drop several dozen feet off buildings, Bruce actually shed a few tears when Tim gave him more advanced echolocation tech.  Dick will never admit how many times he miscalculated because of rain.

Bruce has seen his hospital bills; he knows.

JASON

Jason was born blind, and since he was a street kid with not so great parents, had to learn to get around by himself.  He was pretty good at it too, and was stealing the Batmobile’s tires when Batman arrived.  Jason tried to beat him up, and he made a real good effort too.

Jason got used to using the tech after a while, though he prefers only using it for fighting.

When he came back to life, he ended up becoming better at hand-to-hand without the use of technology.  But he does use it for accuracy whenever he aims.

People have lied to Jason and told him he’s put his helmet on the wrong way around.  These same people have gotten said helmet pelted in the direction of their face.

TIM

Tim and Cassandra both have a degenerative eye disease.  When Tim found out Batman’s identity, he insisted that Bruce take him on because they weren’t too close from different.

Tim later ended up improving on Bruce’s tech, and even customized some for the others.

Tim eventually went completely blind, but he’s adjusted just fine.

His favorite thing to do is get carried by Kon for a flight.  That and doing a Dick Grayson and gliding off buildings.

Tim is very much still tech savvy, working off muscle memory and occasional assistance whenever he needs it.  Admittedly, it’s pretty rarely.  But you will never see him ask Barb or Steph for anything involving colors.

BATGIRLS

Barbara has monochrome colorblindness, and Bruce didn’t realize it until he realized she kept describing colors by how dark they were.  This led to a bunch of reminiscing about colors, and Dick even joined in to describe colors to her.

Whenever Bruce pisses her off, Barbara realigns things ever so slightly.  Bruce could care less, but Dick will trip over something and play it off like it was a stunt.

After her incident with Joker, Barbara took to the moniker of Oracle, and her colorblindness was hardly a hold back for her.

Cassandra did manage to retain some of her eyesight.  As it stands, she can see somewhat, but it’s all pretty blurry.  She wears glasses most of the time, but prefers fighting with the tech Tim designed.

Because they can’t use sign language with Cass, she had a rough time learning to fit in.  Eventually, they learned to communicate through morse code and occasional fingerspelling.

Even though Cass learned to speak, she still prefers morse code with her friends and family.

No one (except Barbara) actually realized what form of blindness Steph had until she asked Barbara if waffles were pink.  It turned out she had  Tritanopia.

Steph and Barbara tried out colorblindness glasses once and Barbara lost her shit.

“I THOUGHT THIS WAS PURPLE!”  “I don’t know what to tell you except that that’s 110% dark blue.”

Cass has to tell the other two which colors they’re looking at whenever they hang out.  Specifically when they start debating colors.

DUKE

Duke, like Jason, was also born blind.  He’s also the only one who uses a cane for when he walks.

Unlike the others, however, Duke doesn’t need to use any external devices to see; his powers work well with sound and allow him to move around just fine.  (I know his powers focus on light, which would require him to see, but I changed it slightly for this AU.)

Rather than ‘seeing’ in color/definition, Duke perceives shapes and figures in something like a bunch of different parts of sound altogether.

Duke has the ability to ‘steal the light’ out of people’s eyes, and temporarily blind them so they’re on the same playing field.

People typically know when Duke is coming because of the sound of his cane moving around.  But he once scared Bruce because he didn’t use it and Bruce didn’t hear him coming.

Duke is still a great writer, though he obviously writes in braille.  His teachers love him.

Some people don’t even realize Duke is blind unless they watch his eyes; they’re unfocused and occasionally ‘wander’.

DAMIAN

Damian lost his sight as a young child.  Talia was regretful, and put a lot of attention on Damian to help him.  Damian disliked the babying behavior, and felt as though Ra’s was disappointed in him.

Talia sent Damian to Bruce because she knew about how he had learned to adjust to his disability.

Damian was LIVID.  He hated everything, he would throw fits, and he hated every- oh hey is that a dog.

Damian got Titus, and over time, began to settle into the family.

Damian initially refused the echolocation tech, but took it because it was helpful for fighting.  Over time, he learned how to work with and without it.

Damian once offhandedly admitted to Jon that he couldn’t remember colors, and Jon sat with him for over an hour describing colors.  

Eventually, Damian started getting into abstract forms of art and presented them to everyone.  Since he couldn’t see what he drew, he took to 3D pieces for his family and friends.  No one even cares what they look like, they all love everything he makes.

Jason is jealous that Damian got a dog but he didn’t.

MISC

They keep playing hide-and-seek and Bruce is tired.

Except for Barbara and Steph, everyone is very sensitive to sound, and it is most definitely their biggest weakness.  Meanwhile, Barb and Steph keep getting blinded by flash bangs and other bright things.

Damian keeps sneaking animals into the house because he knows they won’t see it.  What he keeps forgetting is that roosters scream in the morning, and they can hear that.

In-family fighting is an absolutely insane event.  Things have been thrown and people have fallen down things that shouldn’t have been fallen down.  Dick once tried to pull apart a fight between Tim and Damian and he honestly can’t tell if he slapped Tim or if Damian did it.

They can all tell each others footsteps apart easily, and can even tell who’s arguing even if their in the Batcave and the argument is in the attic.

Someone keeps moving containers out of the typical places, and the finger pointing is always at optimal level.  Alfred is just as frustrated.

Bruce is tired.

They also save a lot on electricity!

[movedyoakkemae]

dick & bruce throughout the years.

trigger warnings: eating disorders, murder, child abuse, allusions to rape, allusions to suicidal behaviours.

Dick and Bruce have a very complicated relationship that has gone from being great to terrible to mellowed to terrible to mellow again. I’d like to preface this that I don’t hate Bruce -- he is not a perfect father, and he does care very much for Dick, but in some ways, that isn’t enough when coupled with some of the actions that he has taken. Despite the fact that, at twenty-five, Dick has forgiven Bruce for a lot of his faults over the years, he has not forgotten. 

For the sake of ease, I’ve split this meta into sections of the vague timeline and, sometimes, differences in their interactions. Like everything in Dick’s backstory, this is a mix of canon, fanon, and my own headcanons. I will not push this on Bruce writers and if there’s stuff not canon to your Bruce, I’m willing to adjust. 

Early Robin Years. (Ages 9 - 14). 

Dick was a relatively angry and traumatised kid from his parents’ murder, and when he first moved into the manor, he didn’t want a parent in Bruce. He wanted his parents back. He was belligerent towards anything he felt was parental affection. He also had terrible nightmares and night terrors, to the point where he wouldn’t sleep most nights. He also wouldn’t eat much -- a few pieces of fruit here and there. 

When Dick was training to be Robin, he actually ended up doing a lot better. He still couldn’t sleep through the night, but he actually could sleep for five-six hours instead of two-three. He also started eating more (even if he still didn’t have much of an appetite), and things got even better when he started patrolling as Robin. 

This, in part, is why Bruce wasn’t as reluctant to let Dick out as Robin as some reasonable parents might expect him to be. Well, in a lot of ways, he was, but seeing how being Robin positively affected Dick, he couldn’t bare to stop him from being Robin. 

Their relationship was probably the healthiest during this time period. Bruce had been exactly what he needed in an adult figure at this time, and despite not labelling as “father and son” between them, it was very clearly a father and son relationship to most outsiders. In some ways, perhaps more of a father and an adult son, with Dick oftentimes being Bruce’s emotional support, but Bruce also would ground Dick to make sure he did his homework, and that’s not what one does with an adult son. 

However, when Dick was eleven and Two Face beat him into unconsciousness, Bruce did fire Dick as Robin for the first time. Dick ran away from Wayne Manor and joined the junior League of Assassins as “Freddy Lloyd”. Alfred was the one who went in search of Dick while Bruce dealt with the Arkham escapees. Bruce and Dick crossed paths, and Bruce and Dick together took down the leader of the junior League of Assassins and Bruce said that he would rehire Dick again as Robin if he listened to his instructions. Dick agreed, and the two of them went to take down Two-Face. 

Also, just a general note, it’s Dick who cajoles Bruce into making friends with who would eventually be the other members of the Justice League, which includes Clark, since Clark and Bruce didn’t meet until after Dick came into Bruce’s life. Dick was often, even as a little kid, teaching Bruce to connect to other people ( and, sometimes, how ). 

Late Robin Years. (Ages 14 - 18). 

However, Dick and Bruce were feeling that same strain when Dick started to make his own decisions and founded the Titans (along with the rest of the Fab Five). Bruce was dealing with his “my child is growing up” phrase that all parents eventually go through and was dealing with it... poorly. It wasn’t so bad while Dick was still fourteen, but when Dick reached sixteen and was starting to go out on dates and hanging out with the Titans more, they started to get into a lot more arguments. 

Also, at this point, both of them were emotionally against their original deal (”You’re not my dad.” “I don’t want to replace your father.”) and Dick did think of Bruce as a father figure and Bruce did think of Dick as a son. However, Dick was feeling the strain of being unsure of whether or not Bruce actually wanted him around because he cared about him or because Bruce wanted to control him. Bruce was not helping in matters because he didn’t outright say that he cared about Dick and was aggressive in his worry. 

This all came to an explosive conclusion when Dick gets fired from being Robin after being shot by the Joker. As I mention here, Dick had assumed that being fired meant that Bruce was kicking him out of the manor and out of his life, so he left and moved into the Titans Tower full-time. (A lot of the Titans had to be stopped from heading to Gotham and kicking Bruce’s ass). 

Nightwing & Batman Years (Ages 18 - 23). 

In the beginning of Dick’s rise to Nightwing, their relationship was still contentious. Dick had all but assumed that Bruce threw him out, and Bruce didn’t really do anything to mitigate these thoughts. They didn’t speak to each other for a year (aside from maybe an awkward phone call or two) until Jason was adopted by Bruce. 

As I mention in my Dick & Jason meta, as found here, Dick did not take out his anger towards Bruce on Jason. Instead, he came into the manor and asked Bruce why wasn’t he adopted by him (although, he didn’t begrudge the fact that Jason had been). Bruce admitted that he missed Dick but then asked him to immediately leave the manor. Dick, hurt and reeling from both what he wanted and then having it taken away, did as Bruce asked him to. This caused another bout of silence between the two of them until Dick found out that Jason became Robin. 

In this, Dick became furious. Bruce fired him for getting injured in the line-of-duty and not putting his full focus in Gotham once, and now Bruce was going to take his mother’s name and his family’s colours and give it to Jason? Dick stormed into Gotham and nearly came to blows with Bruce about it, and there was a lot of tension throughout their relationship. 

This came to a head when Jason dies while Dick was in space and Bruce didn’t even give him a call about it. Dick arrives and Bruce is immediately confrontational and Dick tells Bruce that he wasn’t there to fight. Bruce continues being confrontational and Dick rises up in response when he feels that Bruce is blaming him. Bruce punches Dick in the face when he thinks that Dick is blaming him for Jason’s death and then shouts an angry tirade and officially breaks all ties with Dick. 

Regardless of his age and the fact that Bruce was mourning and that both were eventually confrontational, I do consider this punch to be child abuse. This, coupled with Dick also mourning Jason’s loss and assuming that he wasn’t considered to be family, causes the silence between Dick and Bruce to become frosty. 

Tim in a lot of ways saved Bruce’s life but also saved Dick and Bruce’s relationship. When Tim came into the picture, he managed to get Dick and Bruce to reconcile as well, as it helped that Dick often times came into Gotham to hang out with Tim a lot more than he did with Jason (due to guilt over the fact that he wasn’t 100% around for Jason when Jason needed him). It took a while, but Dick eventually forgave Bruce and they began speaking again, even if it was awkward and stilted at first.

Bruce during this time even admitted to Dick that he does think of Dick as his son and that he feels guilty over the fact that he didn’t adopt Dick when he was a kid and that he was genuinely proud of how Dick grew up, which was great and one of the few times that Bruce was actually emotionally available for Dick. 

Now, my thoughts on the Blockbuster and Tarantula plotline will be its own meta later, but a lot of Dick’s denial about what happened with Tarantula caused him to focus more on what happened with Blockbuster and Bruce’s reaction to the fact that Dick essentially allowed Blockbuster to die. (There is, in part, fear of what Bruce’s reaction to be if he found out what happened on that rooftop, but Dick buries it down. Pretends it doesn’t exist). 

Bruce’s confrontation with Dick when Dick was suicidal was both good and kind of worrying, with him being aggressive but saying a lot of what Dick needed to hear. Dick felt a little bit more confident that Bruce wasn’t going to kick him out or hate him for his role in Blockbuster’s death, and the two of them were a bit better for it. 

In my timeline, two years later, Dick was adopted by Bruce when he was 22. Dick signed the papers without hesitation, but he didn’t attach “-Wayne” to his last name. He still didn’t feel comfortable with calling Bruce “Dad” to his face, and very rarely did he refer to Bruce as “Dad” or “his father” internally or to the other siblings. In some ways, the lateness of the adoption made him feel awkward, but it still mostly strengthen the idea that Bruce wasn’t just going to throw Dick away. 

There isn’t much to say on their relationship while the family thought Bruce was dead. Dick missed Bruce a lot and wished he hadn’t been dead. 

Back-to-Nightwing & Grayson & Back-to-Nightwing-Again Years (Ages 24 - Present). 

Dick had spent some time when Bruce was back as another Batman but bowed out after a few days because he assumed that Bruce and Damian would want to have the time to relearn how to be father and son again without him in the picture. Dick also knew that he would eventually flip his shit @ Bruce in another argument, and he didn’t want Damian to see that, so he left. 

By leaving as early as he did and without waiting for another fall-out to emerge, Dick and Bruce actually had a good relationship until Forever Evil happened. 

Bruce, so upset over the fact that he had to watch Dick die in front of him, reacts in absolutely the worst way possible -- literally gets into a fist-fight with Dick and forces him to go undercover while making Dick be complicit in keeping the secret of him being alive from the family. This is the worst absolute fucking thing Bruce could have done at this point and, literally, I will never forget this. 

Dick was pissed when he came back from being Grayson, but he swallowed it back down because Damian was alive and he didn’t want anything to stain both his and Damian’s return. He was so absolutely furious, though, that Bruce had kept Damian’s return from him because Bruce knew that Dick would have given up on Spyral and came back if he knew Damian had come back to life. 

Still, he didn’t argue with Bruce, didn’t even argue with his family members who blamed him solely for the Spyral and him “lying” about being dead. He took that blame, left for the newly rebuilt Bludhaven, and is trying to ignore everything that went down around the whole Agent Grayson debacle. He’s mostly succeeded and is good at acting like everything’s 100% alright between him and Bruce on his side. 

Just in general, Dick is always worried about what Bruce thinks of him. He never thinks he’s good enough for Bruce, even though Bruce could say over and over again that he thinks of Dick as being better than him in almost every way. In most instances, Bruce doesn’t apologise for things, Dick has to reach out himself and fix things, and then Dick takes on the burden of Bruce’s lack of emotional responsibilities and has to “understand” Bruce and why he won’t apologise. 

In a lot of ways, their dynamic is unhealthy. Dick really feels the need on taking on the role of Bruce’s emotional support and takes the brunt of Bruce’s lack of emotional intelligence. Often times, Dick internalises it as being his fault. They do really love and care for each other, but Bruce just needs to be not only a better father, but also a better person and be able to apologise for his mistakes. He has on occasion, or has risen to the occasion and actually shared his emotions in a positive way, but not always. 

Dick doesn’t hesitate to call Bruce out when Bruce is being shit to the rest of the family, but sometimes with when it happens to him, it’s a mixed bag. Sometimes he calls Bruce out about it, sometimes he internalises it. It’s not always Bruce’s fault whenever Dick internalises his perception of Bruce’s negative opinion, but Bruce could be doing more to showcase that he would always love, care, and support Dick. It also doesn’t help that sometimes he gives mixed signals in that regard (i.e., telling Dick he missed him and then immediately telling him to get out of the manor). 

They love each other, but Bruce especially needs to be better at communicating and needs to actually reach out more in a way that’s not confrontational or condescending or ignorant to the fact that Dick is an adult but still his kid. Bruce is often times good at small gestures but bad at emotional conversations, and sometimes Dick needs that. 

Some metas written by other people that I feel also encapsulate how I feel about Dick & Bruce really well.

The “Don’t Be My Parent” v. “Why the fuck didn’t you adopt me?” & Bruce’s failings as a parent during this. 

Dick & Bruce’s mixture of friends, brothers, and father & son. 

[foxydivaxx]

The Robins Chapter 1

Ok now I remembered that I promised to post this on here. Anyways, onto the story. I have once again edited stuff. Now what would this remind you guys of? Also FYI: This is not a Robin bashing story. It is an AU story where the boys were once a band and disbanded because of drama. I am saying this because of a certain someone on here.

Once upon a time, there used to be a band that shone so bright that not only were they the envy of millions, they also paved the way for other younger stars to follow though their light still shone the brightest. They were known as the Robins. The group’s journey began when a sextet of brothers from Gotham city auditioned for famous music mogul Oswald Cobblepot.

Legend has it that Cobblepot who was a friend to Grayson’s father Bruce Wayne visited Wayne Manor one day and overheard Grayson and his five younger adoptive brothers singing from upstairs. Impressed, he signed them up on the spot.

The boys were the first group to debut under what was known as Project Titans, a project to create highly successful idols and they were tasked to sell at least 100,000 copies of their first single. They not only sold up to said amount, they broke the record by selling times five of the amount.

Thanks to the hardwork of these boys, the idol phenomenon was born and soon paved the way for other Titans to follow.

They broke every record known to man, sold albums and sold out shows and won every single award. They were living the dream life many wish they had. But sadly that dream came to a crashing halt after a series of setbacks and tragedies and internal struggles. The final nail on the coffin came about on when on 6th July 2010, Terry McGinnis, the youngest member of the band released the folowing statement via his Instagram page:

   The world came to a standstill once they saw this. Millions of hearts were broken worldwide and many more were outraged, demanding answers to this situation. The thing that even shocked others was the fact that it was Terry that made the announcement and not Dick their leader but then again, considering the fact that said boy went under the radar as of late and that the others started promoting without him recently and even threw not so nice jabs at their brother who chose to remain silent, one shouldn’t be surprised. 

Rumours have been swirling about some drama within the group for years though the boys have each denied it. But now, it seems more and more obvious that the boys had been slowly drifting apart.

In fact many suspected that Dick may have either been kicked out of the group or chose to walk out due to a public argument between Dick and Jason that the paparazzi caught on camera last year. The other members soon followed with statements of their own on various social media outlets, all except Dick of course.

But their responses, whilst confirmation of the news came across as a bit well...subpar as one would expect them to all individually address the fans. But considering the fact that Tim was on set for his latest movie the night of the announcement, Damian was with a relative in Morocco and Jason had been having health issues, many fans gave them the slide. In fact one could argue that it was the current management which is presently not run by Cobblepot who had since resigned as CEO of the label around the time of the Barbies and Bad Boys Club’s departure that posted on their behalf.

   Many remembered Leviathan’s statement on Dick’s  status and soon fans, various media outlets soon turned into detectives and began to dig into the surface to figure out what was going on. 

Someone under the username wingxx1 who is actually Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler in disguise posted on a Robins fan forum about Dick’s situation. 

Guys I am someone that knows the Robins very well and I was as concerned as you guys were about Dick so I spoke to Dick, the other Robins and other related parties and discovered that there was a terrible argument with all the Robins over Dick outselling his brothers during their special solo album project and thus got more promotion than the others and released two more albums. Ironically the other Robins also released some solo albums of their own too. As a result, the remaining Robins chose to kick Dick off the Team and have since been continuing without him. I was angered by this and felt that it was appropriate to share this news with all of you.

Almost immediately, this causes an uproar all over social media. Fans went to the other Robins accounts and began to bombard and throw hate at them.  Soon the hashtag #JusticeForDick and #RobinsOverParty start trending as a result.

The other Robins watch the fallout in shock. “Wow...” says Jason. “Told you guys didn’t I? Getting rid of Dick would do us no favours. Sure he overshadows us but what’s a band without the very face that made it famous in the first place!!” says Terry.

“Yeah but we cannot take it back now.“ says Damian with a sigh. “I am sure they will get over it.” says Terry.

“I highly doubt it.” The boys all froze in their tracks as a certain someone makes his presence known. 

“B-Bruce?” says Jason whilst the others gulped. If there was someone that was greatly unhappy on the way things turned out, it would be Bruce and for good reason. Afterall he is their dad. 

“I hope your kids are happy with the mess you have created because there is absolutely no way you guys would be able to recover from this. Besides, I have decided not to interfere in your business anymore after you sent me that scathing letter telling me not to get involved in your lives and basically firing me as your manager simply because I actually told you guys the truth about your terrible actions. Anyway, I do not have anything left to say to you boys other than to wish you luck on your future endeavors.” The future endeavors part came out in a very bitter yet sarcastic way. It is with that that Bruce left the house, leaving his sons stunned. 

Meanwhile, Barbara Gordon was observing the drama online with glee. “Finally those Robins are getting their just desserts.” She then gets up and smirks. “And poor little Dickie is in hiding.” Everyone knows about her and Dick’s breakup now. However most people do not know how said breakup happened. Might as well let the cat out of the bag.

So what do you all think? I am not satisfied with how this turned out tbh. The next chapter which will kick start the story proper takes place in five years later. As for how old the boys are here: Dick is 18, Jason 17, Tim 16, Damian 15 and Terry 14. Now I made a mistake with the previous social media posts so I will change the dates and reupload them again.

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [7/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47630773

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #fate #fatal flaw #oracle #reincarnation #secrets #undying love

First Chapter

Author's Note(s): Sorry for the delay guys. Between trying to find a place to live, and dealing with a family member with Alzheimers, the past day or so has kind of sucked. But I did finally get some time to myself to finish this chapter, so I hope you enjoy! 

Much of the dialog and imagery of Jason’s flashback is based on actual lines from The Iliad and Madeline Miller's novel The Song of Achilles. If you're looking to cry, read the latter to the end.

________________________________________________________________

Tim stares at the screen of his tablet, reading the information but none of it registering. He’s been at this too long.

Crime scene photos from the GCPD’s system and coroners reports from half a dozen murder-suicides that took place throughout the city in the past week, each one more brutal than the last. One guy took a meat pounder to his girlfriend’s head; another a fire poker to his husband’s face.

I wish I could get out there and investigate the scenes myself.

He’s been effectively benched and it’s starting to give him cabin fever, even though he knows it’s important to stay with Jason right now.

Bruce took off to Amsterdam about an hour again; like Tim, he prefers to retrace crimes from their origin. It’s how they find clues the cops miss. Dick’s doing the same right now in Gotham, revisiting all the crime scenes with Duke by his side in case his retrocognition can help them any. He has no idea where Steph is tonight, but if Barbara’s radio silence is any indicator, they’re probably working something big together.

Jason’s been sitting beside him on the couch in the study, three separate books open on his lap and a notepad where he’s jotting down various comparisons of the information.

(Because “I’m not defacing a first edition version of Les Métamorphoses, especially not one with etchings by Picasso, Tim. It’s just not done.”)

The first hour he managed to keep absorbed in his task, but Tim’s noticed him stopping more often between annotations, rubbing at a spot on his neck or over the spot in his shoulder where he was shot.

Whenever he notices Tim looking, they both immediately look away and go back to work; but after another period of research—getting shorter and shorter after each pause—Jason’s back to twitching and looking guilty.

He’s going to have his neck rubbed raw in another hour.

Despite the fact the whole thing was Tim’s idea, it’s harder to remain unaffected about the need for physical contact than he thought. And Jason notices pretty fast that Tim isn’t as at ease with the ‘treatment’ plan as he’s been insinuating.

He thought Jason putting his arm around his shoulders earlier was mostly to bother Dick, whose attempts at protectiveness had just made the situation more awkward. But when Jason does it again later, unthinkingly draping himself around Tim’s shoulder, Tim can’t help going stiff as a board.

Jason pulls away immediately, as if he’s been burned. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s…fine.”

“Stop lying, obviously you’re not,” Jason answers, shifting to the other edge of the couch to put at least three feet between them. “You don’t have to force yourself to do this. I can get through it without you.”

Tim sets aside his tablet. “Because that worked out so well the first time you tried it.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I’m more than capable of figuring out how to get through this without using your skin as a security blanket.” He pauses. “That came out so much disturbing than I intended.”

“How was it ever not going to sound disturbing?” Tim wonders, and then sighs. “Look, I don’t mind. The longer you stay in a healthy headspace, the more time we have to find a cure.”

“Yeah, but if you’re so friggen uncomfortable with it—”

“I’m not!”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really, it’s fine. It’s my choice.”

“Yeah, say that without flinching and maybe I’ll believe you,” Jason mutters, shoulders slumping. “If you’re going to freeze up every time I go near your personal bubble, screw it. Like I don’t feel like enough of a creep…”

Tim can see how much he hates this, the fact that he’s making Tim uncomfortable—the fact that making Tim uncomfortable upsets him at all. He’s never cared before; it’s always been a kind of unofficial hobby.

But now that his brain and hormones are becoming compromised, it’s more important to him than ever not to cross boundaries. Or at least what he perceives as boundaries.

Tim bows his head.

He’s been managing his feelings about all this by remaining clinical, dividing him from the particulars of the situation the way he’s always done. It’s the sort of thing that works on hard cases, the kind involving little kids or serial murders. He forgot that it doesn’t work so well when dealing with people.

Communication, he remembers Steph chiding him during one argument. Honesty.

Nodding to himself, Tim forces himself to appear relaxed.

“It’s not like that. I just—I’ve never been really good at all the…” He waves his hand, searching for the words, “…physical intimacy stuff.”

Jason blinks, not having expected that. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Tim shifts. “I know it’s hard to tell when I’m next to Dick or Steph or someone who…”

“Who has personal space issues?”

“Yeah. But with them I’ve gotten used to it. But with you, you’ve never exactly…”

“Put hands on you except to lay you out flat on the floor?” Jason suggests, and then turns red. “I mean beating the crap out of you! Not the other thing that…! Fuck, he wasn’t kidding about the innuendo thing, was he?”

“Oh, I don’t know. If not for everything going on, I’m pretty sure you’d still be making jokes to make everyone uncomfortable,” Tim muses, his own ears warm at the accidental image Jason’s words provided.

Jason tilts his head to one side, and then nods. “Fair.”

They smirk at each other for a moment. Then something thoughtful passes across Jason’s face.

“What?”

“When you say physical intimacy,” Jason starts slowly, “d’you mean just occupying someone else’s personal space, or…?”

He trails off, and it takes a few seconds before Tim interprets the meaning. His cheeks may actually be on fire right now. “Uh…”

“You’re kidding.”

“Well, the first one’s always kind of an issue,” Tim mumbles, looking away, “so I don’t really—like I said, I’m not used to anyone wanting to get close to me, let alone actually trying it. Which always made everything kind of awkward.”

“And the second thing?”

“…that made it awkward, too.”

“So, you haven’t—? Like, not even with Blondie?”

There’s incredulity there, but no judgment, which is somewhat of a relief; he’s too used to other guys looking like he should have his man card revoked for not pouncing on a gorgeous girl like Steph.

As if anyone would ever get away with pouncing without getting a brick to the face.

But Jason seems genuinely curious, which makes Tim want to try to answer.

“No?” Tim winces at the uncertainty in the word and glances up to make sure there’s still no judgment on Jason’s face. “Not because—not because I didn’t—or she wasn’t—we fooled around, but never—she’d already done the whole unwanted pregnancy thing. We wanted to be careful and wait until we were both sure we wanted to. And then she died, then came back because she wasn’t really dead, and we broke up. But it was a long time ago, and then we never got another opportunity because—well, there was Bruce dying and not dying, and other people dying, and then losing Robin, and just…” He lets his words trail as he realizes he’s been babbling. “Sorry. Babbling.”

Jason makes a dismissive gesture. “Nah, it’s cute.”

There’s a moment where they both process his words, and then Jason’s rubbing at his neck and Tim’s coughing because he thinks he might have choked on his tongue.

“I’m going to…” Jason stands, starts rummaging through his pockets, and then jerks his head toward the balcony, “Smoke break.”

“Right,” Tim answers, carefully neutral.

Tim doesn’t complain about the smoking, even though he hates it. Jason’s under enough stress right now, if the nicotine helps calm him even a little a bit, Tim can put up with it for the short-term.

Not like he’s going to be around once we fix all this.

He lets Jason make his escape and for the first time since the conversation began, takes a full breath.

It’s just Eros’ blood. He doesn’t actually think that.

The truth doesn’t make his heart stop fluttering.

“Fuck,” he mutters, letting his face fall into his hand; he rubs at his face in frustration.

“Wallowing in your failure as usual, Drake?”

He jumps and then shoots a glare across the room at the pint-sized bane of his existence.

“Why aren’t you out terrorizing the streets of Gotham?”

“I’m here to ensure the present status quo endures and neither you nor Todd end up compromised,” Damian retorts. Then Tim blinks, the kid smirks at him. “I’m babysitting you two morons.”

“Well my life just hit another low…”

“I have also been doing research of my own to pass the time, since my talents are being ignored in favor of mundane surveillance tasks,” the boy continues. “I was intrigued at Todd’s apparent symptoms of xenoglossia and decided to peruse the security footage to see what might have precipitated it.”

“…And?”

“It wasn’t until you arrived that it started. He called you philtatos. It means ‘most beloved’.”

Tim tries not to choke. “How do you know that?”

“Anyone who has read the Iliad in the original Greek could tell you that,” Damian drawls.

“Well, excuse me, I had an education meant for this millennium.” Tim tries not to croak, running his hands through his hair in frustrations. The strands are stringy today and he tries to remember when he washed it last was; probably before Jason was brought to the manor.

“Odd that he’d call you that, though,” Damian continues. “He has that habit of assigning the most absurd monikers to anyone within a ten-foot radius. It’s not exactly the type of thing he would say. And to you of all people.”

Tim frowns, ignoring the insult. “You think it’s a symptom of the infection?”

“Perhaps. The term itself, or the tongue in question. In case you were curious, which I doubt since unless it involves a computer your interest becomes depressingly cursory, the language Todd was mumbling in while drooling on your shoulder was Archaia Makedonike.”

“English, brat.”

“Ancient Macedonian, you classless twit. The language itself was prevalent in the Hellenistic period before giving way to its superior successor, Koine, when it was brought by the military forces of Alexander the Great.”

“Conqueror of the known world at the time—why am I not surprised you’re so well-versed.”

“Tt. Of course I am. As a child, Mother brought me on a journey to follow in his footsteps along what was once his Empire.”

You’re still a child, Tim doesn’t say, because he just doesn’t have the energy for the inevitable resulting fight. “Sounds like quality family bonding time.”

“It was meant to show me all that could be achieved in a short lifetime,” Damian sniffs. “And what could be lost just as easily.”

“Because he died young?”

“Not only that, but because of his rather questionable decisions. Like pouring a considerable amount of his treasury into a funeral monument for one of his generals. He was so besotted with the man he died less than a year later. It’s disgraceful.”

“Right, because caring about someone is a bad thing.”

“It is possible to care without being ruled by one’s emotions.”

“Yeah, you’re such an excellent example of that,” Tim deadpans. At Damian’s glare, he makes a defensive gesture with his hand. “What do you want me to say? People do weird stuff for the people they care about.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Evidently.”

He continues to watch Tim in a way he’s not entirely sure he likes. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It sounds like you’ve got something to say.”

Jason chooses that moment to return, although he halts in the door when he notices the way Tim and Damian are glaring at one another. “Am I walking in on something here?”

“I was simply demonstrating Drake’s continued ignorance in several arenas,” Damian replies, and pushes past Jason. “I’ve wasted enough of my day pandering to your nonsense. Shout if you need help.” His gaze lingers on Jason with disgust. “Or possibly a firehose.”

“Was that demon-speak for ‘make good choices’?” Tim calls after him and noticing Jason’s bemused expression offers a half shrug. “He will do great things.”

“See, I knew all that getting on his case was just your way of showing you like him,” Jason teases and settles back on the couch. Much closer to Tim this time, body angled toward him; he can smell leather and the acrid smell of cigarettes.

He forces a grin, “Tell no one.”

“Lips are sealed,” Jason replies, abruptly stretching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

The gesture would normally make Tim want to melt, to bend closer to Jason as well; at first it does, but the reason for it remains starkly in his mind, and instead his skin crawls.

The study suddenly seems too small, too close, magnified by Jason’s focus on him.

Need a distraction.

“There’s a lot of CCTV footage to go through,” he says, clearing his throat and standing quickly. He ambles over to the desk to grab Bruce’s laptop, holding up to Jason. “Feel like going through half?”

“Not particularly, but only because that’s the most boring job ever.”

“And reading scholarly articles dissecting the exact syntax of some ancient play isn’t?”

“Don’t act like if it was Klingon or something you wouldn’t have a field day.”

But Jason accepts the computer, putting his books and notes to one side. Tim exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

They sit in silence again for a while, one that’s somehow more tense than earlier. Tim’s stomach keeps leaping, waiting for the next time Jason needs to reach out to him, simultaneously craving and dreading it.

So it’s no surprise that he physically jolts when Jason suddenly announces, “I think I’ve got something.”

“What?” he asks quickly, hoping his reaction wasn’t that noticeable. He moves to peek over Jason’s shoulder, considering a timestamped video of an Upper East Side apartment. There’s a crowd gathered outside as paramedics load two covered stretchers into an ambulance.

“Right there.” Jason points at a grainy image in the upper left corner, almost obscured by the lighting. “See this woman?”

Tim studies the image of the woman in a leather jacket and skin-tight pants. “Yeah?”

“That’s Carrie Cutter.”

“Carrie…” Tim consults his mental rolodex. “Carrie Cutter as in Cupid?”

“Yep.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I’m pretty familiar with anyone Roy might have had beef with down in his corner of the world. You know, just in case.”

Which is a smart thing to do, really, considering old enemies always have a tendency to return when they’re least expected.

And just…great. Because Carrie Cutter, along with being crazy to the point of earning honorary Arkham status, also happens to be a genetically enhanced special-ops soldier that knows how not to be found. If she’s got her hands on divine weapons somehow, it’s going to make apprehending her much more of a challenge.

Especially those weapons. If any of us get tagged with those, we’re done. I’ve been around when the Family gets turned against each other, and it’s never pretty.

The memory of Joker’s macabre dinner party still makes him gag reflexively.

Tim leans forward, balancing his weight on the desk with his palms, and studies the image again. “Could be a coincidence.”

“Has anything about all this felt coincidental to you?”

“Touché.” Tim shakes his head. “Damn. So, Cupid stole Cupid’s bow and arrows?”

What even is my life anymore?

“And the MO makes sense now, if you think about it,” Jason points out; he absently starts to rub the back of Tim’s hand with his thumb. Tim swallows and fights the conflicting urge to jerk his hand away or lean further into Jason’s space. “She has that whole crazed ‘if-I-can’t-be-happy-no-one-can’ thing going on. If she’s got Eros’ diviners, she could accomplish whatever she wants pretty easily.”

“Does she still have that obsession with Green Arrow?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Maybe we should let Oliver know she’s heading his way.”

“Or not.”

“Jason!”

“No, seriously, hear me out, this isn’t me hating on Queen.”

“Sure…”

“Look at the pattern of robberies and deaths—if she’s headed out west, she’s taking the long way and at a slow stroll. There are tons of direct flights from Amsterdam to Star City. She could be there in like a day if that’s her goal, but she’s moving so slowly—based on the places she’s hit, and how long it takes her to get there, I’d say she’s driving.” He traces a line from Europe to the East Coast. “And possibly taking a boat. Not the Carnival way, either. I know people like to go incognito sometimes, but even that’s Bruce levels of paranoid.”

“And he once rode a goat truck across the border of Qurac…”

“Also, there are more direct routes from here to the West Coast.”

“So why come to Gotham at all,” Tim says, and steeples his fingers. “Either she’s taking her time for a reason, or she was never heading for Star City.”

“Then what does she want?”

“And how has she dropped so completely off the radar since she got here?”

Jason shrugs and leans back, stretching his arms and yawning; his arm brushes against Tim’s shoulder on its way down.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Tim asks quickly, wishing his voice didn’t sound like it was squeaking.

“Like sleep or power naps? Because I’ve had a lot of those.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “If you don’t get some rest we’ll have more to worry about than accidental innuendos. You should get some sleep.”

“The irony of you telling anyone that…”

“I’ve never had to fight off an Olympian bloodborne disease.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly comfortable falling asleep right now. I keep seeing weird shit.”

“Like what?”

“I…can’t even remember. The whole thing just gives me a bad feeling.”

“You want to stay in my room?” This time it’s Jason who jumps and shoots Tim a panicked look. “Not like that! I just figured; it’s got all my stuff there. People sometimes take comfort in objects, and I just figured maybe being surrounded by my stuff would help. And I somehow don’t see you as the teddy bear type.”

Jason barks out a surprised laugh. “Hey, leave Paddington out of this!”

“You didn’t actually have a stuffed toy named Paddington!”

“Not just a stuffed toy, I’ll have you know, it was actually a Paddington Bear,” Jason retorts. “My mother used to read the stories to me, and she found him in a second-hand shop the Christmas before she…” Jason trails off, the levity in his face smoothing into careful blankness. “Anyway. I pretended like I was too old for stuff like that, but I was just happy she was lucid enough to even do Christmas that year.”

Tim can’t help the way his eyes soften at the story. He’s never heard Jason say anything about his life before Bruce, at least nothing personal.

Jason seems to notice the scrutiny, because he looks away. “Anyway. Not important. But we can try that whole…staying in your room thing. It would be nice to catch some Zs.”

They pack up their things and head down the hall to Tim’s room; all the while, Tim is trying to figure out what possessed him to suggest this. It’s true, comfort objects are a thing, but he could just as easily have brought a whole bunch of his stuff to Jason’s room for the same effect.

Except Jason doesn’t go near his room unless he’s unconscious and Bruce puts him there to recover.

He flicks on the light as Jason brushes past. “I haven’t been here in a while, so Alfred’s probably changed the sheets and everything. Good to go if you want to sleep.”

“And, uh…you’ll stay, right?”

“Yeah,” Tim replies softly. “At least until you fall asleep, then I have to take care of a few things. Alfred will probably nag me to eat and shower and changes clothes or something.”

And I need to make a trip home to have a conversation with my unwanted houseguest.

“Oh, the horror,” Jason says neutrally, though he starts rubbing at the back of his neck again, irritating the already red skin there.

Tim reaches over automatically and moves his hand away. A week ago, doing that would have probably gotten him punched; now Jason simply lets him, his body unconsciously leaning toward him.

“Listen, if you wake up and I’m not in here, don’t freak out. I’m probably in the kitchen being force-fed grits or something. And if I’m not, just call me and I’ll find you. We can even FaceTime while you wait.”

“Whatever,” Jason says, trying to sound nonchalant. He plops himself down on Tim’s bed, then frowns down at the bedsheet. “Holy shit this is soft.”

“It should be, it’s got a thread count of a thousand.”

“Spoiled ass rich boy,” Jason mutters, lying back on the bed. A surprised and pleased expression appears on his face. “Okay you know what? Forget obsessing over you, I want your bedroom set.”

This time it’s Tim who gives a surprised laugh.

⁂

“I will not be humiliated before my army.”

The lord marshal’s face resembles a misshapen beat, fury twisting his features; the skin beneath his nose is raw from the scented oils he’s been using to block the acrid scent of the funeral pyres. Jason has mostly become familiar with the odor by now—smoke and burning flesh and blood.

“What humiliation is there in appeasing the gods?” he counters and is surprised his voice remains so calm and measured; Tim is a reassuring presence at his back.

“Returning Chryses’ daughter is tantamount to the theft of my rightly taken trophy,” the king of men snarls. “Find me a replacement and I may consider it, but I will not be the only man among us without a prize.”

The quiet among the men is pointed, saturated with disagreement; even the obstinate man’s brother does not stand with him on the dais where kings and their liegemen have gathered. But Jason knows no one will step forward to say anything.

Only me, as usual.

“Son of Atreus, you know as well as anyone that we take our prizes from lawful combat. There’s ample opportunity to replace the girl, or even her worth in gold, three and four times over. All of us who stand here are kings and the vassals of kings, and we don’t owe you compensation when it was you who angered the gods in the first place.”

By taking the girl whose life I was trying to save just to screw me over, I would add.

A few of the men nod at his words; in the background, the moaning cries of the dying fill the air, a cacophony that has haunted the shore for ten days since the plague hit.

“Show your men that you’re as humble in nature as you are proficient in battle, and make amends.” He doubts the pig will notice the insult there. “End this plague before more die.”

Fury contracts the other man’s pupils to fine dots. “You will learn your place, boy. Just because divine blood runs through your veins and your mother raised you to believe you are special does not mean you might speak to me as an equal.” Jason bristles but is immediately cut off again. “Silence! I have no interest in whatever clever words your puppet master would have you speak.”

The blunt insult instead of flowery political doublespeak is surprising enough to still the words on his lips. He senses when Tim stiffens; they both know that last was directed at him.

“If I hear further suggestions that I give up my property without receiving something of like value in exchange, then I will sacrifice the man who suggests it, along with Chryses’ bitch daughter to appease the gods. Perhaps you might volunteer, Peliades,” the lord marshal concludes.

“I’m not afraid of speaking up when it’s needed,” Jason growls, “and we all know you can’t afford to sacrifice me.”

“Listen to the arrogance! It is the same you have displayed from the moment you arrived here. I believe it to be high time you face consequence for your heedless words.”

“Consequence,” Jason echoes, calm; Tim shifts closer, knowing that his outward composure is a sign of danger. The men around them shift as well, some of them whispering; more than one man’s fingers twitch toward their sword. “It’s you who should think of consequence.”

“Careful,” Tim cautions in his ear, breath hot across his neck as he comes to step beside him. He has to keep from rubbing at the area with his thumb.

“Is that a threat?” the king of men demands.

“An observation. How much longer do you think these men will last, without me to lead them into battle? How many times have I been the one who turned the tides of defeat to victory, while you remained in the back ranks?”

Now the whispering is louder, angrier; voices of dissent and outrage.

“I am High King!” the older lord roars. “Every man here knelt before me when we came to these shores or swore oaths to the gods to follow my command. Even your beloved Menoitiades whom you shield as if he is your wife.” Tim clenches his fists but carefully doesn’t meet Jason’s eyes; acknowledgement of one another now will only prove the argument. “You are the only one that always considered yourself above such things.”

Jason is furious. Green like the cold sea edges around his vision, and it would be so easy to leap across the three-foot gap and snap the bastard’s neck. He could do it before anyone else might react, and he’s fast enough to get away before anyone retaliates.

But Tim isn’t.

Tim who remains tense, shoulders set and whose fingers make a minute twitching motion against his side, silently beseeching Jason to keep his calm.

It doesn’t work.

“I have nothing to prove to you, or any who swore oaths to you,” Jason snarls through gritted teeth. “The horse-tamers have never threatened my home, have never stolen our stock or torched our fields. I chose to be here, to sail to this wretched city and help your half-wit brother regain a woman who likely doesn’t wish to be reclaimed.”

More murmuring; it’s a sentiment no one has wanted to voice.

“Have a care with your words, boy; not all gods who listen are favorable to you.”

“And what would you know of the gods? I’m closer to their ilk than you ever will be, without the scandal that troubles your bloodline. If anyone should have these men’s fealty, it’s not you. Perhaps you should be the one who bends knee in appeasement.”

The crowd is outright clamoring now, supporters and enemies alike shouting over one another. The older man’s eyes widen in triumph. “You think yourself better than me? Or than the men I command?”

“No, they are my equals. You’re the dog-faced son of a bitch that isn’t fit to clean the boots of the men you profess to lead into battle.”

Exclamations of disbelief.

“That’s enough!” Tim hisses, jabbing him with an elbow.

“Yes, listen to your keeper, Peliades. He seeks to save you from being named a traitor to this army, and suffering punishment for it. Though I think we are beyond the point of playing this off as country bumpkin ignorance to custom. Your war prizes are forfeit; I will take them under tutorship until you come to your senses and offer submission to me.”

Jason’s muscles pull taut in incandescent anger. “You have no right to do that!”

“I have every right, especially since you are so keen to take mine. In fact, I demand the first woman you took as spoil at Ilion—fetch me Briseis’ daughter. She will replace the woman the gods wish me to return.”

“If you touch her, you forgo your victory in this war. I will take my ships and return to my land.”

“Flee, then, if your heart urges you! I have no fear of you—of all the kings the son of Kronos nurtures, you are the one I hate the most. Go with your ships, run with your tail between your legs. But I will have the woman before you go.”

Jason’s hand goes to his sword, but Tim’s hand is on his then.

“Leave it,” he whispers, frantic. “There are greater punishments than death. Let’s regroup and find a solution to this away from prying eyes.”

Jason knows he’s right. The men around them are filled with shock and disapproval, but none of the cowards will support him if he strikes down the king of men.

And so instead of slicing the ignorant prick’s kneecaps out from under him, Jason simply spits at his feet.

“You’re a coward with the face of a dog but the heart of a deer. You’ve never had the courage to arm for battle along with the men you boast to lead because you fear death. You’re faithless, taking the property of those who speak contrary to you, preferring to rule over a kingdom of nobodies. Your words today doom you and your men to disgraceful ends.” He glares at all the men gathered there simply watching. “I won’t fight alongside this army any longer, and without me, you’ll all fall, ground beneath the feet of the man-killing prince. The day will come when you send your toadies to me to beg, and you’ll kneel before me crying for forgiveness, but I’ll give you nothing but laughter as you bleed in the dust before me. You will all die in ignominy for what the son of Atreus does today.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

Tim follows, as do the rest of the men sworn to him.

“I’ll kill him,” Jason fumes under his breath when they are far enough away not to be heard. “I would have if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“I know. And then you would have been struck down, which I couldn’t allow,” Tim soothes. “Be patient. I’ll think of a plan, you know I always do.”

“And in the meantime, that sack of pig shit will take Hippodamea and vent his frustrations toward me on her,” Jason growls.

“If he rapes her, he violates the life of one who is under your gods given protection. His men and the gods will turn on him if he does. After that display, he’s not going to court anymore of their disapproval. She will be safe until you bend knee to him.”

“Which won’t happen.”

“There are more important things than your pride,” Tim reminds him, a bit of reprimand in his tone. “Don’t lower yourself to his level, to the level of men, when you are as a god.”

Jason blinks, and turns to Tim. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“I’ll go to my mother.”

Tim’s face pales. “No!”

“Why not? And it better not be because you think she hates you.”

“She does hate me, but that’s besides the point. I just…have a bad feeling. The silver-footed are like the sea—unmerciful and uncaring who they harm in their storm. That path leads to death, I think.”

“Yes. His.”

Tim is silent and continues to look worried.

“I don’t need your permission to do this,” Jason tells him, a little sour that he doesn’t have his support on this matter.

Something like hurt flickers across his face, but then Tim’s expression goes carefully blank. “I would never presume to tell you what to do.”

“That’s not what everyone on this gods forsaken beach thinks!”

“Since when have you ever cared what people think?”

“You can’t stop me doing this,” Jason snaps.

Tim looks sad now. “I know.”

He turns to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to prepare Hippodamea for what’s to come. Somehow I doubt you will be able to feign sympathy long enough to shoulder that burden,” he replies coldly, and stalks away.

Jason watches him go, his righteous anger continuing to simmer, until it occurs to him that Tim is actually quite angry with him. Some of the bite goes out of his rage, and worry creeps through his body.

“No, wait,” he starts, hurrying after him. “Don’t go—”

“—Tim!”

Jason sits upright in bed, arm outstretched as if to make a grab for a hand or arm, only to grasp air.

A maelstrom of different emotions cloud his mind, blocking his awareness of the room around him for several long seconds while he fights for his bearings. Anger and hurt and guilt and fear, all tied up with longing, playing on repeat in his head.

He has the strangest compulsion to make amends for something and he doesn’t remember what.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back close to his body, elbow to chest, hand pressing against his shoulder. The skin radiates heat through the cotton of his t-shirt, warmer than his normal body temperature; probably from the wound.

He is alone, surrounded by pillows and a comforter that should smell like Tim but don’t (because Alfred washed them, so they’re new), in a room that feels somehow too big (which it shouldn’t, it’s the same size as the other rooms, as his room that he never goes into if he can help it. It’s bigger than the holding cell was).

A glance at the digital clock reads two in the morning. Prime patrol time, and more importantly, four hours since he put his head down. He’s pretty sure that’s the most sleep he’s had in a week, even if it was cut short by another of those maddening dream sequences that vanish from his memory in direct relation to how awake he becomes.

Where’s Tim?

He swings his feet over the edge of the bed, ready to go looking for him in the house, before remembering what he said before he fell asleep.

Don’t freak out.

Right. No problem. Tim’s just off somewhere having a human moment, which is just as well. He probably needs a break from Jason. Jason knows he needs a break from Tim—from everyone really. He can’t remember the last time he was in someone’s constant presence.

This is a good thing, he tells himself as he glances around the room, absently picking at the dry skin on the side of his thumb. He didn’t really look around when he first walked in. His brain was still trying to process the concept of Tim being the one to suggest his room as being the best place for Jason to relax.

And the surprise that he was actually right.

Tim is everywhere in these walls—video game posters and obscure pop culture refences—and furniture. There are candid photographs of him and his friends—Jason scowls at one of him and the Super Clone standing way too close together—and half-finished projects of wire and circuit. Clothes and books are strewn across the floor and—

“Christ, kid, you’re a goddamned slob.”

He never really took note of that quirk of Tim’s before, probably because they never really hung out. His knowledge of the kid’s lifestyle was limited to his own notions of what spoiled rich boys were like, and the general observation that his replacement ran on coffee and energy drinks.

His thumb is bleeding now from his continued picking, and he wipes it angrily on his pants, standing up. He needs a distraction. Otherwise, he’s going to go looking for Tim, or blow up his phone with calls until he picks up. He needs to prove to himself that he still has some control—test how long he can manage on his own, or at least test how long it takes between Tim leaving him alone and the anxious thoughts to set in.

He’s coming back. He wanted me to be here, or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

Jason just has to be patient.

Which…yeah, that was an issue even before this fixation crap.

“Screw this, I’m not just sitting here,” he grumbles, and starts wandering around the room, sorting clothes and tools and whatever other detritus has gathered on the floor. Cleaning is both mindless and immersive, something to do with his hands instead of scratch bloody welts into his skin.

And yet, he still drops everything when his phone vibrates.

“Tim?” he asks in the same breath that he unlocks the phone.

“Sorry.” Barbara actually sounds apologetic. “Just me.”

Disappointment hits him like a punch to the face. “No, yeah, it’s fine.”

“How are you holding up?”

Of course she knows what’s going on, too.

“Spectacular,” he says dryly, running a hand through his hair. “Can we maybe can the sympathy? I’m getting enough of that over here as it is. And you never call just to check in.”

There’s a beat, and then Barbara speaks again, still in her own voice, but more businesslike. “I may have found something.”

He likes that about her. She doesn’t get upset when called out on something, nor does she spend time on bullshit.

How the hell she dated Dick so long will forever be a mystery.

“What?” he asks, studying a strip of picture booth photos of Steph and Tim; the typical assortment of funny faces, pressed close together. Jason frowns, tugging absently at his hair.

“I’m not sure it’s anything, yet,” Barbara cautions, “but it’s almost certainly related to your situation.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because it involves Carrie Cutter.”

Jason straightens up. “What?”

“As soon as you and Tim established that Cupid was involved—both Cupids, I guess—I set up a search algorithm to track her whereabouts for the past month or so.” Of course she’s been monitoring everything from her little command center; this goddamn family and their surveillance… “It’s a bit too neat, someone with her modus operandi just bumping into the real Cupid.”

“And we don’t do coincidence.”

“Exactly.”

“So, she had to be sent there by someone or something. Specifically, to steal from Eros.”

“Yeah. Still working on who, though,” Barbara agrees. “That’s not the most interesting part, though.”

Jason’s scalp is beginning to burn from the distracted tugging, but he doesn’t stop. The pain is punishing, keeps him focussed on Barbara’s voice, and not the urge to hang up on her to call Tim. “Lay it on me.”

“I’ve got newspaper reports from the village of Delphi in Greece with a woman of her description killed a blind twelve-year-old two weeks ago. Sliced her throat with one of her arrowheads and walked away, took out anyone that tried to stop her.”

“Fuck.” Jason almost bites his tongue.

Carrie Cutter’s always been a murderer, but from what he knows of her from Roy, she never hurt a kid. His fingers itch with the need to punch something; he yanks his fingers out of his hair, several strands coming away with it, and slams his fist down on Tim’s desk. It creaks at the force.

“You okay?”

“Better than she’s going to be,” he replies tightly. “What else?”

“You heard me say Delphi, right?”

There’s a pause, like she’s letting him process, which he’s glad for; he did miss that the first time. Jason thinks the news over again, remembering bits and pieces memorized from National Geographic when he was a kid.

“Delphi,” he repeats. “Like the Oracle of Delphi Delphi?”

“Exactly.”

His back goes even more rigid. “Isn’t it common in a lot of myths that people who can see the future tend to be blind?”

“Good memory.”

“So we’re thinking the kid was a seer.”

“I’m thinking the kid was the actual Oracle of Delphi.”

Jason whistles. “But there hasn’t been one of those in hundreds of years, right?”

“Not since Theodosius I closed the temple when the Pythia gave him some bad news. Five years later, he was dead, and the Visigoths had captured Rome, and after that it wasn’t safe to be an oracle. But secret societies have been started over less.”

“Still, how would someone like Carrie Cutter know or even be interested in looking up some secret oracle? Even for Queen, she’s small-time.”

“Still working on that part.”

“And if she did talk to the oracle beforehand, what did the kid tell her that made her kill her?”

“Unfortunately, there was no tech anywhere around to pick up on that. Not even tourists taking cellphone videos.”

“Fuck.”

“But lucky for us, we have someone that can sort of see ghosts.”

Jason’s eyes widen. “Duke.”

“Exactly,” Barbara says, and sounds smug, like she’s just managed a checkmate against fate or circumstance or something. “As soon as he’s done with Dick, I’m sending him on quick trip to Greece. He’ll get a kick out of the plane, I think.”

Jason winces.

It won’t be easy for the newest member of the family to watch a kid being murdered, all for Jason. Worse is the fact he’s a hundred percent sure Duke’s seen worse.

Instead of voicing that thought, however, he says, “Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

There’s a heavy silence.

“Do you want me to stay on the line?” Barbara asks after a moment. “Until Tim gets back.”

Jason’s first instinct is a snappish retort, a denial that he needs her pity.

But his hand has found its way back into his hair, tearing at the strands as he anxiously waits for the younger man to return and for all he knows, it could be anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours before he sees him again.

He shivers at the thought.

That…would be bad.

And so he clears his throat and tells Barbara in a gruff voice, “Yeah. Okay."

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

[bat-lings]

Thoughts on the Tim and Damian "rivalry"?

Unconvincing at best and really forced at worse.

Firstly because trying to sell a rivalry between a sixteen-old and a ten-year-old just. Doesn’t work for me. It kinda makes Tim look like an asshole whenever he’s throwing the first punch at an unadjusted and formerly abused preteen tbh.

[Red Robin #1-2]

Yeah Tim is in a bad place, we all react badly when hurting, okay. What bothers me about this scene is that it should’ve been framed like a misstep on Tim’s part and that it wasn’t. Alfred pats him on the back? Really, would Alfred condone that?

Ahem, back on subject. Secondly I don’t find as much basis to this rivalry as we’re made to believe there is. It’s one-sided on Damian’s part, so by definition there’s no rivalry to speak of— outside of Batman & Son anyway.

That arc aside, Tim and Damian’s dynamic has actually little to do with rivalry. Plus, every reason that can possibly be given for them to compete over just doesn’t hold for me.

>> Fighting or detective skills? For all his super ninja/assassin training, Damian is ten. Tim has nothing to envy him training-wise & is more experimented, meaning he can beat him the second he starts trying. As detectives and while Damian is far from inapt in that area, Tim does have a natural ability in detective work and he is, again, more experimented. I’m not selling Damian short in either department, he’s ten and Tim’s sixteen, it’s normal. Tim knows that, he’s got no reason to feel threatened by Damian’s skills.

>> Bruce’s love? I’ve never read Tim as seriously doubting Bruce loves him tbh. Most of his insecurities come from doubting himself as Robin, not as someone Bruce cares about. Yes it can overlap in a kid’s mind, an probably does to some point in Tim’s— but not that significatively to my understanding. His relationship with Bruce is actually pretty swell by the time Damian arrives*.

[Robin (1993) #123 & #163]

*Those issues respectively happen before and after Damian’s character is introduced. He didn’t change things all that much if at all, considering.

>> The Robin mantle? Let’s separate this into Before / After Bruce’s death.

Before Bruce’s death, Tim’s place as Robin is secure. Bruce has legit no intention to give the mantle to Damian. Bruce repeatedly went out of his way to praise or reassure Tim.

[Robin (1993) #9, #166, #17, #106 & #74]

+ several other times I’m not putting there since they weren’t in Tim’s presence. For context Robin #17 has Tim disobeying express orders to stay put ‘cause he doesn’t have a choice. He doesn’t even have the time to worry Bruce will chew him out before Bruce does the opposite.

I don’t mean that a few sweet words here and there magically cure all of Tim’s insecurities. They don’t. But they’re still there for Tim to hear. And Bruce’s opinion aside, Tim himself trusts his skills more and more as time goes by (tbh I see him as more confident than fanon sometimes makes him to be). The tale according to which Damian shatters that confidence all by himself leaves me unconvinced.

Batman #665 has Tim going after a villain who beat the shit out of Bruce to prove his worth after Damian’s arrival but that really feels… off, for Tim. Throwing himself at an enemy he knows he can’t beat when it’s not a last resort is just not like him. Tim grew into Robin with Jason’s death firmly in mind, in a narrative that blamed Jason’s death on his own recklessness, and was always careful to do better & not to run headfirst into danger without a plan.

Even if Tim could possibly feel threatened as Robin, Damian at this time has no qualms about killing. A kid that’s okay with killing from the get-go is not a Robin candidate in Bruce’s mind, and Tim knows that.

After Bruce’s death, the reason Dick gave Robin to Damian is because Damian needed it more than Tim did (and because it was the only way to keep Damian in check). It had nothing to do about their respective abilities or what they deserved. And it’s not why Tim is hurt– he’s hurt ‘cause Robin was the only remaining stability in that shitstorm period of his life. Damian himself actually has very little to do with it. It’s Dick Tim’s angry with. And since the title has already been taken away from Tim, there’s nothing left to fight for anyway.

>> The Batman mantle / who’s Batman’s fittest successor? Tim doesn’t want to become Batman. Like. He really, really doesn’t want to become Batman. He associates it too much with Bruce’s unhealthy psyche.

I was gonna go panel hunting but @nightwing-ing-it already did all the hard work so I’ll shamelessly let that rad post do all the argumentation for me: /post/174701270362/tim-drake-not-becoming-like-batman (I’d just add ‘Tec #621 to the list since it shows that Tim has never wanted the cowl and has been conscious of its worst facets from the very beginning.)

(Yes tumblr blacklisting posts with links from the tags is annoying, I’m doing what I can)

Damian wants to succeed his father in every sense because he was taught to want it. He’ll probs grow out of it (I hope). Until then Tim’s reaction if Damian ever claims to be the fittest successor in front of him should be along the lines of “sure, whatevs.”

Conclusion: any strong feeling of inadequacy, of lack of skills, of being threatened– those should be experimented by Damian only. Whenever Tim is made to strongly believe he actually has something to compete for against Damian, I have trouble finding credibility in the narrative.

A rivalry doesn’t feel natural to me. It feels like a flawed construction made up on the spot to fit a flawed idea.

And to be fair, canon itself didn’t force it all that much. Morrison suggested said rivalry during Batman & Son ‘cause it went with all his family metaphors I guess. But that arc aside there isn’t any other occurrence (that I remember) where Tim is actively participating in a “rivalry”. He mostly reacts to Damian’s provocations, but he’s not competing for anything.

Whatever rivalry was hinted at between the two doesn’t have a big place in canon at all. Damian being barely even mentioned in Tim’s Robin run, my feeling is that any kind of true rivalry wasn’t meant to play a role outside of Morrison’s Batman & Son narrative.

Plus it’s not just with Tim: Damian is an abrasive brat towards everyone in the Batfam ‘cause he’s that insecure. He thinks everyone is his rival in some way.

[Gates of Gotham #2 || Batgirl (2009) #5 || Batman & Robin (2009) #1]

It’s not so much a Tim & Damian thing as it is a Damian thing, and I see little appeal in any narrative trying to say otherwise. It just doesn’t work in my mind… and again with the age difference, fam, it would make it ridiculous for Tim to engage in any kind of rivalry. Would you compete against a preteen 6-7 years your cadet saying they’re better than you?

If it wasn’t obvious enough: this is all a very personal take. Some points may be clumsily presented as facts— they’re not meant to be, it’s just that I’m too lazy to add “in my opinion” to each sentence.

Arguably most of my arguments don’t necessarily have much weight when discussing what a character might be feeling, rational-thinking aside. Many read Tim as way more insecure than I do, and a new arrival in any family can breed jealousy anyway. And there is jealousy between Tim and Damian.

But jealousy doesn’t always equal rivalry and I don’t read Tim as insecure enough to kill all rational thinking. Again you may see things differently and you’ll have fair reasons to.

Me? I like it as a one-sided thing for Damian to grow out of.

On that note, Damian is already far less agressive towards Tim by the time he comes back in Gotham during RR... up until the hit list thing, because it truly hurt Damian. As of Gates of Gotham there’s little spite left between them anymore.

God this is way longer than it should be. Shutting up now, thanks for the ask!

[aconitemare]

[jaydick] The New RA pt. 2

The prompts I’m following. 

Read on AO3. Now under its own title on AO3, The New RA!

Dick preferred front row seats wherever he went: concerts, movie theaters, games, medieval jousts, niche campus protests, absolutely any interaction between Bruce and Damian, drama between strangers at a party, and – classes. He made it a point to arrive early to every class so he could stake a claim to a desk in the front row. His notes were always better, it was harder for him to be distracted, and the professor called on him a lot more.

           His ethics course met on Mondays and Wednesdays and although it was easy, it was still fun. Professor Prince went out of her way to engage students; the essay assignments were genuinely thought-provoking and class discussions maintained an atmosphere of both genuine interest and mutual respect. The only downside was that she never assigned group work, which was Dick’s favorite aspect of every class. So when she finally offered the choice of working on an upcoming project individually or in groups, Dick’s hand went flying in the air to offer his opinion.

           Professor Prince motioned to him and Dick lowered his arm. “I think if we work in groups, we’ll be able to cover a lot more of the material as a class during presentations. Plus, what are ethics without societies, right? People come together to debate and decide upon what’s right and wrong, our moral codes depend on our relations to each other.”

           “That’s an excellent point,” Professor Prince praised. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll start assigning groups and everyone can spend the last,” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “half hour deciding which way you’ll argue.” She picked up the roster and began writing the main topics of their current chapter with student names beneath them.

           Someone in the back asked a question. “Can we argue differently from our group? Show both sides of the argument?” The voice was a man’s that struck Dick as vaguely familiar. Dick twisted around in his seat but couldn’t figure out from which end of the room the question had originated.

           Professor Prince was still writing down names. “I don’t see why not, so long as your group agrees to it.” Dick’s name paired with two other names he didn’t recognize beneath the term death penalty. Already everyone was glancing around the room searching for faces they could pin to names.

           It seemed Professor Prince was doing groups of four. The last name added to Dick’s group was Jason Todd. Dick instantly thought back to his RA, embarrassment threatening the corners of his mind. Before he could forcefully push the memory out of his head, though, the voice of the kid behind him crashed into the name with full force.

           Dick’s head whipped around. He scanned the ascending rows of students who were standing up and beginning to mingle. If he hadn’t been searching, he wouldn’t have found Jason Todd in the far right seat in the last row, hunched over and scribbling furiously in his notebook. He was wearing the same leather jacket that brushed against Dick’s arms last weekend.

           Dick wondered if Jason, too, knew he had ethics class with the guy who came on too strong that Saturday. Which one of them came on too strong? Dick probably had some fault in this situation. It wouldn’t have been the first time he had accidentally slept with someone.

           “Please tell me you’re Richard Grayson.”

           Dick breaks his bewildered stare to respond to the girl. She has long brown hair and doe eyes. He laughs and holds out a hand for her to shake. “Yeah, that’s me.” He glances at the whiteboard. The only other name is also a guy’s. “Are you Allie?”

           “Yeah. Should I – ” Allie points her backpack to the chair next to him. Dick looks back to the top row where Jason has not made a move to get up.

           “Actually, I think we should meet up with Jason over there. It doesn’t look like he’s budging.” Dick and Allie exchanged an amused expression but neither was going to enter a stand-off on principle. They began the trek up the stairs, collecting their fourth partner David along the way.

           Jason’s look when the three of them sit beside him is truly imposed upon. When Jason made eye contact with Dick, his face tightened but there was no hint of surprise. So either Jason noticed him for the first time at the beginning of this class, or he had known of Dick before the dorm awkwardness.

           Awesome.

           The group introduced themselves. Dick had a few ideas milling about his head for the project but before he could voice them, Jason was passing down his notebook and outlining how he thought they should design the presentation.

           “Wow,” Dick said, waiting for David to pass the notebook to him. “You’re fast, huh,” he observed.

           “Yeah, I think we should do it like this,” David declared.

           “Yeah, me too,” said Allie.

           “Well, hold on, I haven’t seen his ideas yet,” Dick interjected. On cue, David passed him the notebook. Jason’s handwriting was meticulous and uniform to the point it almost looked typed. The organization checked out. Jason had written “Person 1” and “Person 2” and so on next to each aspect of the death penalty to delve into. There was definite flow and if this was a debate team, it had good bones for winning.

           Dick looked past the classmates between them and straight at Jason. “Where are the points against the death penalty?” He was sure it was an oversight on Jason’s part, that he was getting to the next side when they all sat down.

           Jason shrugged. “Couldn’t think of any.”

           “You couldn’t think of any?” Dick repeated.

           “That’s what I said.”

           Allie chimed in. “I mean, we don’t have to include both sides, I’m pretty sure. I don’t think it matters.”

           Dick cut a sharp glance at her. “Tell that to the people on death row,” he challenged. He immediately regretted it when Allie straightened up as if to pull away.

           Jason adjusted in his chair so his knees were angled towards Dick. He was the picture of ease, which wasn’t fair, because Dick didn’t feel at ease whatsoever across from him. “Look, the professor said we don’t have to cover the same side of the argument. If you want to throw a few slides in for why the death penalty is bad, you should.”

           “Oh, I’m free to throw a few slides in?” Dick said too quickly to reel in the sarcasm. Why hadn’t Jason approached him sooner? Was he mad Dick rejected him? This was a conflict of interest. “I think your bias is showing,” Dick threw down.

           Both David and Allie’s spines were flush against their chairs now. “Because I didn’t include the opposite argument in an outline I made in less than three minutes? You’re the one getting worked up. Maybe you’ve got a bias, Dick,” Jason fired back.

           David laughed uncomfortably. “Hey, guys, let’s not name-call.”

           “That’s his name,” Jason said at the same time Dick said, “That’s my name.”

           “Oh,” murmured Allie. “You go by that.”

           “Maybe you’re right,” Dick conceded. “Maybe I don’t want to be a part of a presentation that expounds upon the merits of taking lives legally. Ethics class or not, it’s disturbing. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing – ” Dick read off a term from the white board, “Rehabilitation.” Dick winced. That sounded pretty important, too, actually.

           “Would you calm down?” Jason asked. “We’re not on jury duty, okay, we’re not literally sending murderers to their deaths here. Although, it’s good to know that if we were, you’d be set to let the Joker walk free.”

           Dick officially did not feel bad about slamming the door in Jason’s face anymore. “Not free,” he corrected, “just alive.”

           “He’s out of Arkham every other news segment,” Jason exaggerated and waved a hand in the air. “The only way to stop scum like that is to put them down.”

           Dick’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t help it. “And you’re in charge of my dormmates’ well-being, huh? That’s going to work out super well; you’re so compassionate.”

           “Uh, I’m going to go,” announced Allie, and so she did, grabbing her books and squeezing by David and Dick.

           “Is everything alright?” Professor Prince asked from closer than Dick expected. He didn’t dare break Jason’s intense glare though. He was only half-sure he was capable of looking away if he wanted to. Jason’s eyes burned like rope around his wrists.

           “Everything’s fine, sorry, Professor,” replied Dick while Jason said, “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m pretty sure it’s with me for whatever reason you’ve got bouncing around in that bobble head of yours.”

           “That’s egotistical of you,” noted Dick.

           Then Professor Prince was standing right by Dick’s shoulder. Jason and Dick broke away simultaneously to acknowledge the woman standing tall with her – shocking muscular, how was Dick just noticing this? – arms crossed against her chest. “It appears this argument has crossed over into the personal. I’m going to have to ask you two to leave so the rest of the class can be productive.”

           “Yes, ma’am,” Jason mumbled. He was rapidly gathering his stuff.

           Dick hadn’t unpacked his bag and so he simply swung it over his shoulder. “My apologies,” he told her, hoping he came off earnest. “It won’t happen again.”

           Professor Prince stepped to the side to allow them passage. “If it does, you know where to take it.” She pointed to the door.

           Dick nodded. “Right.” He ducked his head in shame but managed not to scurry out lest he seem too scolded. Outside the classroom, he was tempted to head to the student center but decided to hang back instead. Dick’s temper tended to run more cool than hot and he was only a few steps away when he began to regret the escalation. So he leaned against the wall and waited until Jason had emerged.

           Jason did not look nearly as calm. His brows were still pulled taut in angry slashes over his stormy eyes. He actually trudged right past Dick, his knuckles turning white over his backpack.

           Dick pushed himself off the wall and hurried after. “Hey,” he said, “can we talk?”

           “Again?”

           “Would it sweeten the pot if I told you I was apologizing?” Dick tried.

           “Thank you for the apology,” Jason said curtly.

           “Okay,” said Dick, taking it in stride. Apologies were rarely comfortable for the apologizer. “I want you to know that I don’t actually care about the death penalty thing.” Dick grimaced. “Well, okay, I do care a lot actually and would love some day to talk to you about your views –” Jason made a pained noise, so Dick skipped over that part, “But anyway, that’s not an urgent thing. I’m just saying that though I think it’d be a mistake for you to send even the Joker to his deathbed, I wouldn’t think you’re a bad person for doing so.”

           Jason stopped walking and gave him a disbelieving look. “You said you were apologizing, not giving me your hypothetical blessing.”

           “I can do both.”

           “No, because now it’s like you’re forgiving me for something that is literally never going to happen but I’m still at fault for.”

           Dick had to taken a quiet moment to consider that. He didn’t like how Jason was putting him through the ringer here, but he was doing his best to sympathize and Dick could maybe see how his approach was off. He inhaled deeply. “Okay,” he said for a second time. Resetting. “You’re right. But I’m not done yet.”

           “Seriously?” Jason said, but Dick could tell the anger was draining out of him. Dick smiled, appreciating the pout that was absolutely forming on Jason’s lips.

           “I’m also sorry for slamming the door in your face,” he finally said. Jason looked away, which was comforting because it meant he was flustered over it too. “I stand by that I 100% was not hitting on you, but my bedside manner afterwards could’ve been gentler.” And because Dick’s mouth is its own trolley problem, he tacks on, “I know it’s not easy to be rejected by me.”

           Jason’s mouth parted to say something when he closed it and walked off, leaving Dick to stand there and admire his own wit. “It was a joke!” he called after, but he let Jason be.

<<Previous Chapter // Next Chapter>>

[lusilly]

i just went ahead and finished it!! a post script to this. tim accidentally breaks the nature of jay and talia’s relationship to damian. jason is mean to bruce

           “I don’t know how you could possibly think this was appropriate,” said Bruce, his voice hard.

           “I’m afraid I have to agree with Master Bruce on this one, Jason,” added Alfred, sipping tea from his seat at the edge of the table. All the Waynes had come home to roost, gathered in the Manor kitchen. Across the old wooden table from Bruce and Dick, who had uncharacteristically spoken very little during this exchange, Jason and Damian stoically endured their lecture. Cass and Tim were in the kitchen proper, working on fixing lunch for everyone.

           Damian, in a neck brace Alfred had insisted he wear upon his return from Talia’s compound, leaned forwards. “It’s not his fault,” he said stubbornly. “I wanted to go.”

           “She never would have made contact with you if he hadn’t enabled it,” countered Bruce. Jason didn’t like the way Bruce said he instead of his name, felt it like a stab of accusation, that familiar unwillingness to look him in the eye. Try as he might, it was hard not to take it personally.

           Before Jay could think of a half decent retort, however, Damian shot back, “And whose fault is that?” To this, Bruce seemed to have no immediate answer. Jay glanced in between the two of them, one eyebrow cocked.

           “Listen,” said Dick, leaning his elbows on the table beside Bruce. Clearly troubled, he kept his gaze focused on Damian, trying hard to keep up his sympathetic tone. No doubt, Jay thought, trying to reconcile his long-held hatred of Talia with Damian’s newly resuscitated maternal longing. “Damian, we get it. OK? All of us had moms too, it’s not our job to tell you how to feel about her. But I just – don’t think – that it’s a smart idea to walk right into her hands, which is obvious-”

           “You’ve never liked her,” said Damian viciously. “You’ve always been biased against her, from the very start-”

           “-which is made, very clear,” Dick barreled on, ignoring Damian’s interruption, “by the fact that you got seriously hurt.”

           “That’s not her fault,” said Jason, at the same moment that Damian insisted, “She didn’t hurt me.”

           “No,” murmured Tim to Cass, under his breath. “A shadowy cabal of mutinous assassins did, apparently.”

           Chopping celery, Cass replied pointedly, “It’s…possible.”

           “Sure,” muttered Tim, glancing up at the raucous argument unfolding. “Anything’s possible when you want Mommy to be innocent that badly.”

           Jason raised his voice to ask, “You got something you wanna say, Tim?” and Tim shook his head, busying himself with toasting bread.

           As Damian leaned forward, Jay leaned back, one arm resting protectively on the back of Damian’s seat. “You should be thanking me,” he told Bruce, enjoying the obvious fury Bruce was trying his goddamn best to hold back. “If I hadn’t gotten involved, then you’d still be in the dark about what’s going down with the League of Assassins.”

           “Jay, come on,” said Dick. “We haven’t found a single corroborating source on that-”

           “Well, of course you wouldn’t,” argued Jay, “because Talia’s been suppressing dissent every step of the way, and I don’t know if you’re aware but she’s damn good at her job.”

           “Do you have proof?” asked Bruce bluntly.

           With venom in his voice, Damian shot back, “Nothing except for the scar on my back.”

           Alfred let out an small noise of dissatisfaction, then murmured, “Wouldn’t have scarred so terribly had she not used those horrible staples…”

           “The kid’s spine was falling out, Alfie,” said Jay, in a rare expression of anger towards the old butler. “Her medical team did what they had to do.”

           “I…like the scar,” said Cass incidentally, leaning halfway over the kitchen counter, having lost interest in the tuna salad, leaving it to Tim to finish. “It gives you…character.”

           “Thank you,” replied Damian graciously, and Jason grinned at her, then back at Bruce.

           “There you go,” he said. “Cass likes it, so therefore nobody can complain.”

           There was a tense silence, and then Bruce said: “I don’t want this happening again.”

           “Fine,” answered Jay smoothly. “If you listened to her once in a while, I wouldn’t have to.”

           “I won’t have you endangering my son, Jason.”

           “Your son?” echoed Jay, his eyebrows shooting up. Immediately Dick sat up a little straighter, and it became clear Bruce knew he’d misspoken. “Oh, right, OK. I forgot, he’s the real son.”

           “That’s not what I meant,” said Bruce lowly.

           “I actually think Jay’s got a point on this,” offered Tim, but they all ignored him.

           Damian leaned back once more in his seat, pushing Jason’s arm off the back. “Can we skip all the grandstanding about who-started-what and who belongs to whom?” he asked, sounding bored. There was a note of arrogance in his voice, casual and haughty, that reminded Jason viscerally of Talia. Judging by the expression on Bruce’s face, he wasn’t the only one. “That’s how we found ourselves in this mess to begin with.”

           “Uh, no,” said Dick, dismissing this. “We found ourselves in this to begin with because of her behavior, Damian. Because of how she treated you. You really can’t blame us for being concerned, not after what she did to you.”

           “Dick, come on,” Jay retorted. Gesturing across the table at Bruce, he asked, “How’s anything she did different than taking a twelve-year-old out on the streets as a Goddamn sidekick?”

           Dangerously, Dick replied, “You know that’s not the same-”

           “The asshole put us in bright red,” he insisted, his voice rising as he spoke over Dick. “So the bloodstains wouldn’t show up.”

           “As I heard it,” said Damian, his voice low and lethal, “it was to attract gunfire, but that sounds plausible as well.”

           Bruce said nothing. He merely stared at Jason, his mouth a flat line.

           “Jay, don’t be like this,” said Dick, and there was genuine hurt in his voice. “You know her. You can’t honestly pretend it’s comparable.”

           “Sure,” agreed Jay, nodding. “Sure it’s not comparable. Talia loves that kid. She’s fucking crazy about him. You? You fired half of us, and killed at least one.”

           There was a deathly silence. Even Tim, still at work on the sandwiches, froze.

           Alfred spoke first. He quietly lowered his teacup down to its saucer, and then he said, tiredly, “Please watch your language, Jason.”

           Dick got to his feet. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, to Jay, but was interrupted by Cass arriving at the kitchen table, plonking down a plate in front of him and Bruce. Tuna sandwiches and celery slathered in peanut butter were presented on the fine china, the Wayne family crest embossed on each of them.

           “Lunch first,” she said. Apologetically, Tim joined her, bringing plates to the rest of the family. Once the food was served she went to the fridge, then returned with two bottles of beer. She handed one to Jay and kept the other one for herself.

           Tim hoarded a big Costco-sized bag of chips on his side of the table, opposite Alfred. “Y’know,” he said mildly, breaking through the thick family tension as he grabbed a giant handful of chips from the bag. “All things considered, it was kind of a stupid move, Jay. I mean, Talia has a well-established record of trying to kill men in this family she’s slept with-”

           Immediately, simultaneously, Dick, Jason, and Bruce all barked, “Tim,” but it was too late. Damian’s gaze snapped around, his eyes wide. Loudly, he demanded, “What?” Nostrils flaring, he looked back and forth in between Tim and Jay. “What?”

           Jay said, “For fuck’s sake, Tim,” and Cass giggled.

           Alfred reminded him, “Language, Jason.”

[foxydivaxx]

Dick and the Robins Chapter 1

Ok now I remembered that I promised to post this on here. Anyways, onto the story. I have once again edited stuff. Now what would this remind you guys of?

Once upon a time, there used to be a band that shone so bright that not only were they the envy of millions, they also paved the way for other younger stars to follow though their light still shone the brightest. They were known as the Robins. The group’s journey began when a sextet of brothers from Gotham city auditioned for famous music mogul Oswald Cobblepot.

Legend has it that Cobblepot who was a friend to Grayson’s father Bruce Wayne visited Wayne Manor one day and overheard Grayson and his five younger adoptive brothers singing from upstairs. Impressed, he signed them up on the spot.

The boys were the first group to debut under what was known as Project Titans, a project to create highly successful idols and they were tasked to sell at least 100,000 copies of their first single. They not only sold up to said amount, they broke the record by selling times five of the amount.

Thanks to the hardwork of these boys, the idol phenomenon was born and soon paved the way for other Titans to follow.

They broke every record known to man, sold albums and sold out shows and won every single award. They were living the dream life many wish they had. But sadly that dream came to a crashing halt after a series of setbacks and tragedies and internal struggles. The final nail on the coffin came about on when on 6th July 2010, Terry McGinnis, the youngest member of the band released the folowing statement via his Instagram page:

The world came to a standstill once they saw this. Millions of hearts were broken worldwide and many more were outraged, demanding answers to this situation. The thing that even shocked others was the fact that it was Terry that made the announcement and not Dick their leader but then again, considering the fact that said boy went under the radar as of late and that the others started promoting without him recently and even threw not so nice jabs at their brother who chose to remain silent, one shouldn’t be surprised. 

Rumours have been swirling about some drama within the group for years though the boys have each denied it. But now, it seems more and more obvious that the boys had been slowly drifting apart.

In fact many suspected that Dick may have either been kicked out of the group or chose to walk out due to a public argument between Dick and Jason that the paparazzi caught on camera last year. The other members soon followed with statements of their own on various social media outlets, all except Dick of course.

But their responses, whilst confirmation of the news came across as a bit well...subpar as one would expect them to all individually address the fans. But considering the fact that Tim was on set for his latest movie the night of the announcement, Damian was with a relative in Morocco and Jason had been having health issues, many fans gave them the slide. In fact one could argue that it was the current management which is presently not run by Cobblepot who had since resigned as CEO of the label around the time of the Barbies and Bad Boys Club’s departure that posted on their behalf.

Many remembered Leviathan’s statement on Dick’s  status and soon fans, various media outlets and other celebs soon turned into detectives and began to dig into the surface to figure out what was going on. 

Someone under the username wingxx1 who is actually Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler in disguise posted on a Robins fan forum about Dick’s situation. 

Guys I am someone that knows the Robins very well and I was as concerned as you guys were about Dick so I spoke to Dick, the other Robins and other related parties and discovered that there was a terrible argument with all the Robins over Dick outselling his brothers during their special solo album project and thus got more promotion than the others and released two more albums. Ironically the other Robins also released some solo albums of their own too. As a result, the remaining Robins chose to kick Dick off the Team and have since been continuing without him. I was angered by this and felt that it was appropriate to share this news with all of you.

Almost immediately, this causes an uproar all over social media. Fans went to the other Robins accounts and began to bombard and throw hate at them.  Soon the hashtag #JusticeForDick and #RobinsOverParty start trending as a result.

The other Robins watch the fallout in shock. “Wow...” says Jason. “Told you guys didn’t I? Getting rid of Dick would do us no favours. Sure he overshadows us but what’s a band without the very face that made it famous in the first place!!” says Terry.

“Yeah but we cannot take it back now.“ says Damian with a sigh. “I am sure they will get over it.” says Terry.

“I highly doubt it.” The boys all froze in their tracks as a certain someone makes his presence known. 

“B-Bruce?” says Jason whilst the others gulped. If there was someone that was greatly unhappy on the way things turned out, it would be Bruce and for good reason. Afterall he is their dad. 

“I hope your kids are happy with the mess you have created because there is absolutely no way you guys would be able to recover from this. Besides, I have decided not to interfere in your business anymore after you sent me that scathing letter telling me not to get involved in your lives and basically firing me as your manager simply because I actually told you guys the truth about your terrible actions. Anyway, I do not have anything left to say to you boys other than to wish you luck on your future endeavors. Good thing I kicked you brats out of the Manor.” The future endeavors part came out in a very bitter yet sarcastic way. It is with that that Bruce left the house, leaving his sons stunned. 

Meanwhile, Barbara Gordon was observing the drama online with glee. “Finally those Robins are getting their just desserts.” She then gets up and smirks. “And poor little Dickie is in hiding.” Everyone knows about her and Dick’s breakup now. However most people do not know how said breakup happened. Might as well let the cat out of the bag.

So what do you all think? I am not satisfied with how this turned out tbh. The next chapter which will kick start the story proper takes place in five years later. As for how old the boys are here: Dick is 18, Jason 17, Tim 16, Damian 15 and Terry 14. Now I made a mistake with the previous social media posts so I will change the dates and reupload them again.