"When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives."- Lauren Eden
Jason Todd once read a novel that described love as sweet. He fundamentally disagreed; as far back as he could recall, love tasted of bitter iron and cigarette smoke. He tasted love for the first time when he took a hit for his ma. He tasted it again when one of the working girls that his ma worked with tossed him a loosie in the alley. There was nothing sugary about love for Jason Todd.
He choked on the taste of smoke in Ethiopia- but he almost laughed when iron filled his mouth after Bruce threw the Batarang at his throat.
Timothy Drake read that love was nothing but oxytocin and vasopressin. When he was seven, he spent a month eating only foods that promoted oxytocin production. He gorged himself on eggs, salmon, and bananas. Alone in his family's mansion, he cataloged his thousands of photos and ate omelets until he threw up. Love would always taste like acidic bile to Timothy Drake.
He tasted eggs when he shattered a memorial display- he nearly gagged at the flavor of bile when Dick told him that he had outgrown Robin.
Damian Wayne was born the heir to the Demon, he was above childish notions such as love. That did not mean he did not care for lesser beings. At the age of six, Damian found an abandoned nest and raised two falcons from eggs. When grandfather found Pollux and Castor, he snapped their necks and had a chef prepare them for his next meal. There was no place for love in the life of Damian Wayne. It was stringy and left a foul taste in his mouth.
His mouth filled with the phantom flavor of soured flesh as he attacked his father's pet that dared to parade around in his birthright. He tasted bitter tea as he finally donned the cape he dreamed of for years.
The three boys would later sit at the same table for a family dinner. None of the trio would speak, all trapped listening to their other siblings argue about comfort foods and traditional dishes. Stephanie rambles endlessly about the waffles her mom makes every Friday, and Dick prattles on about the virtues of take-out, how it always reminds him of the circus.
Jason was the first to break. He strode off from the table and marched to a balcony, a cigarette between his lips before he even reached the door. Damian was next. He rushed off to the kitchen as quickly as his pride would allow and prepared a cup of tea, burning his tongue on the bitter liquid. Tim was the last. He abandoned his untouched meal and snagged a banana from the kitchen on the way to his room, completely ignoring the smaller boy.
THEY THINK THEY CAN TAKE AWAY MY PRECIOUS BABY JASON TODD AGAIN WITHOUT MY PERMISSION I WILL END THEM. PEOPLE WE MUST REBEL AGAINST THEM AND FIGHT FOR OUR LITTLE ONE AND BRING HIM BACK
AU where Jason Todd isn't caught stealing the Batmobile's tires. He doesn't push his luck and stops at two tires, hauls ass and said tires out of Crime Alley. Batman finds his ransacked car and immediately starts forming suspects. Falcone. Two Face. The Penguin.
He takes fingerprints, pulls up Matches Malone's contacts for any whispers of Batmobile loot. Is cautiously surprised when he finds his tires not hanging as a trophy in Falcone's office, but in a back-alley automotive shop where Tony tells him he got these tires from—
It dawns on Jason Todd, later, sitting in his moldy half-falling apart flat counting his newly acquired cash, that this was a very, very bad idea. The World's Greatest Detective will absolutely find him. How the hell did he think he could get away with this? Yeah, paying rent and buying real food and surviving through winter are all good things — but what good does it do when he's in prison?
The next two days feel like two weeks with the amount of stress he's under. Every shadow is hiding someone, his ears are peeled for the flutter of a cape, his skin crawls with the feeling of being watched. He doesn't sleep, heart racing as he lays staring at the ceiling.
He barely touches the money. Half-hoping the Bat'll let Jason pay him back for his tires if—when he finds him. All of his belongings are packed and he's contemplating living on the run, just so he could calm his paranoia that hears a fluttering cape at his window every time a bird takes flight or sees a Batman-shaped shadow in the middle of his apartment— That's a Batman-shaped shadow in the middle of his apartment.
New chapter of my fic is out and you guys finally get to meet Dick Grayson! Sorry it’s a bit later than usual, the picture for this one was taking me forever.
Chapter 6: Birds of a Feather do we Count as Brothers?
imagine committing a crime in gotham - thinking ur getting a silly robin who’s gonna make a quip like dick or tim but instead u get DAMIAN WAYNE who beats you to a bloody pulp and then spits on you without a word then turns his back and show you his massive fucking KATANA that’s bigger than him.