#but now she can tell babs she has a job so take that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bicycle4two · 1 year

Text

fine as we are, but we want more || Jason Todd x Female!Reader || Chapter 5 of 8

Summary:

all things considered, you're pretty lucky.

in all your years living in gotham city, you've never been mugged, never had your apartment broken into, never been held as a hostage.

until now.

it seems your luck has run out and there's nothing you can do about it other than wait for someone to come rescue you. . .

or, jason and you reunite after a long time.

...

Read on AO3

...

Chapter 4

...

Chapter 5:

You didn’t expect Jason’s hobbies to be so wholesome. You hate to admit it, but you sort of always pictured him working on his motorcycle or doing some sort of extreme sport in his spare time. And maybe he does, but he also bakes snickerdoodle cookies for Barbara and knits scarves for shelters. You quickly find that being friends with Jason Todd means you can’t just take him at face value, that there’s more to him than a strong set of muscles and a dangerous night job. He’s more than the Red Hood.

And although you love being friends with Red Hood, love hearing about his new gear, the types of guns he’s collected over the years, the new bullets he’s acquired that somehow have elemental effects (whatever that means), the little tidbits of whatever mission he feels he can talk to you about, you love being friends with Jason Todd a little more.

Because Jason Todd visits you at Becker’s Best in the morning, because Jason Todd sends you pictures of the new cat that’s found its way into the “office,” because Jason Todd can cook when it’s too late to order food because the two of you were so absorbed in what you were watching that you’ve forgotten to eat.

(You remember scrolling through your phone, looking for restaurants that were still open, when Jason suggested that he could make something if you wanted. And who were you to say no? So, after a quick scan of what you had in your pantry and refrigerator, Jason settled on making what he liked to call his famous instant noodles.

You never thought to add cheese and jalapenos to your noodles before but now it’s a flavor combination that you can’t live without.)

You honestly never expected Jason to let you into his life the way he has, to share his interests with you, to spend his free time teaching you how to knit (you’ve only ever made oddly shaped squares despite his meticulous guidance. He assures you everyone starts out that way. Even Tim’s having some trouble) and how to crack eggs with one hand (“You don’t really have to do it that way. Just use both your hands,” he’d said when you fished out the shells from your fifth attempt. There was a lot of scrambled eggs that afternoon.) He’s even emailed you a reading list filled with his favorite books, both standalone and series. You found yourself ordering a few of them online once you got your paycheck, excited to discuss them with him once you’ve read through them.

You don’t expect Jason to weave you into his life, to fit you in wherever he can, in between saving Gotham, in between research, in between servings tables, but here you are in one of the library’s function rooms with your hair tied away from your face and Jason’s extra Wonder Woman apron wrapped around your waist. Today’s hobby exploration is pottery.

“I have to say,” you start, easing yourself onto your stool, grinning at Jason as he does the same, dwarfing his seat. “I did not expect this.”

“It’s new,” he says with a shrug, already bringing out his materials, setting aside the tools in an orderly line on the table beside him and then unwrapping his clay. “Babs brought home a brochure from the library, and I figured why not?”

“You do know I’ll be humming Unchained Melody the entire time, right?” You follow his lead, only throwing your slab of clay onto the wheel as opposed to just simply putting it on. It lands off center, so you pick it up and do it properly. Which is, disappointing.

“You wouldn’t be the first one.”

“Probably won’t be the last either.”

The instructor comes in and tells the class that you’ll be making bowls today. She shows some examples, bowls of different heights, widths, and depths, even some wonky looking ones with “character.” You think that you probably won’t make anything that can properly hold food, so you settle to make something small, something that can maybe hold your paper clips and those cute erasers you keep buying but never use. After a few safety reminders, the instructor wishes everyone luck, advises patience, and says that she’s always available for questions and assistance.

Oh. And to have fun. Of course.

Your classmates begin the activity almost immediately, even Jason is already wetting his clay, wheel spinning as he envelopes the lump in his hands, putting pressure on each side to make the lump slimmer and taller. He wipes excess clay on the rim of his water bucket before getting back to work, pushing his clay downwards with the palm of his left hand.

“You gonna get started, angel?” He asks, attention still on his work, molding the clay like it’s nothing. “Or are you just gonna ogle at me? I get it. I’m irresistible.”

You blink, a little dazed, before letting out a huff, blowing a few strands of hair out of your face. “Ugh. You wish, Todd.”

Jason lets out a soft laugh, a sort of raspy sound, and you force yourself to not look at him, to look at your dry lump of clay. You wet both your hands and the clay before spinning the wheel, slowly at first, trying to get the feel of the peddle, before picking up the speed and repeating what Jason did to his project.

You press the clay together, watching it grow tall before it flies off the center of your wheel.

“Ah!” You yelp, drawing the attention of those sitting closest to you. And the instructor. Who was coincidentally behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” the instructor says kindly, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Was I going too fast?”

The instructor looks at the lump. “You’ve probably made it a bit too tall. No worries. It’s fixable.”

So, you slap the clay back in the center, ignore Jason’s gaze, and repeat your steps. Molding the clay, trying to find peace and serenity in the activity. Because Jason said pottery is good for stress, but you feel like you’ve never been more stressed before.

(Okay. That’s a lie. You were a hostage to a bunch of Freaks just the other month, but that’s different.)

You spend about thirty minutes in silence, brows furrowed, bottom lip between your teeth in concentration, your clay is finally listening to you, stretching and shrinking with the guidance of your hands. You think that maybe you’ve gotten the hang of it, and you take a break, your ankle hurting from the peddle, looking over to see that Jason’s clay already looks like a bowl. It’s impressive really, how quickly he’s able to make one while yours is still shapeless. You watch him use one of his tools on the inside rim of his bowl, opening it further.

“That looks like a ramen bowl,” you tell him once his wheel stops spinning. He wipes excess clay off his hands once more before turning his attention to you. To your project.

“Angel,” he says, mouth quirking. “What is that?”

“Clay,” you say lamely. “It’s clay, Jason.”

“Do you need help?”

“Please.” Because although you can always ask the instructor, you’ve seen her flit from one student to the next, guiding different molds of clay, helping create different kinds of bowls, and you don’t want to keep her from someone whose project actually has potential. That, and you’re the only one in the room who still has a lump, and you’re sort of embarrassed.

“C’mon. It’s easy,” Jason says, already by your side. “Start the wheel up again.”

And you do, you press on the peddle, gaining momentum and mold the clay the same way you’ve been doing the past how many minutes.

“Good, that’s good,” Jason says and you bite your lip once more to keep yourself grounded because he’s so close to you now, practically cheek to cheek as he moves in to help. And. You don’t know what you’re feeling but whatever it is, it’s not appropriate for pottery class. “Now dip your thumb in the center. Yeah, just like that.”

And you follow his instructions, trying to pace yourself because you don’t want your clay to go flying again. So, you apply pressure with your left thumb, using your right hand to help guide your thumb outwards, pressing against the clay so that the hole you created gets bigger.

“Careful,” Jason says, voice soft. “You don’t want it to be too wide.”

“Got it,” you breathe out.

“Now let’s make it a bit taller. Wet the clay.”

You do as he says. He tells you to pinch the base and slowly move your hand up the wall of your bowl to make it taller. It’s starting to look like a wide Japanese teacup. And you think that maybe you can stop here, quit while you’re ahead.

But there’s a little devil over your shoulder telling you that if you stop now, then Jason’s going to go back to his seat. And do you really want that?

“What’s next?”

He hands you the same tool he was using to widen the rim of his bowl and you try your best to mimic what he did. But you get excited, you do a bit too much. And your bowl is starting to look a little like a plate.

“Jason,” you all but whine. “It, it does not want to bowl!”

“Easy there, angel. There’s still hope.” He looks at it for a second, studying it. You wonder what goes on through his mind, what he sees in your bowl-plate. Because it’s starting to look like you should maybe start from scratch, turn it into a lump again. Or start over with a new one. “Here—let’s just do this.”

And he guides your hand back to the clay, tells you to spin the wheel, and to your surprise he doesn’t let go. Instead, his hands lightly cover yours, using you to mold the clay to his liking.

“Oh my God,” you say. “Jason. We’re Ghost.”

“What?” He’s a bit distracted, guiding you to mold the bowl upwards, to make it less plate like.

“Ghost. We’re having a Ghost moment.” You don’t care about your project right now. Because this is a once in lifetime moment. So, you turn your head slightly, lips angled to his ear, and you softly sing, “Oh, my love, my darling…”

And Jason jerks so suddenly that your bowl goes flying. It soars through the sky before making an impressive splat on the ground. The class bursts out in laughter, but you can’t bring yourself to care, to be embarrassed, because you’re too busy looking at Jason, watching how red creeps up his neck and paints his cheeks and ears. And you’re pretty sure you look exactly the same. Because everything is catching up to you, your mind going haywire.

And you have to wonder if he’s feeling the same things as you. If his heart is beating against his chest so hard, so violently, like it wants to burst out. Because yours is trying to break through your ribs and fly over to Jason in hopes that he catches it.

…

It’s something that he’s used to doing. Patching someone up. With a job like his, it’s not easy to go to the hospital, to explain why you’re all banged up, with broken bones and burns on your skin. More so if you can’t manage to get out of uniform, too tired, too much in pain to peel off all the layers. It’s why all of them know first aid, it’s why Alfred can perform surgery. It’s just easier that way. Convenient.

Jason’s pretty good at dressing wounds and setting bones straight. He’s had to do it to himself a couple of times, too, and he likes to think he’s healed up pretty nicely, his scars could honestly look a whole lot worse.

He just never expected to have to do the same for her. Never in his life did he want to be in this situation, disinfecting her wounds and wrapping her hand. And that makes him nervous. Because he doesn’t want to screw up, doesn’t want to cause her any more pain than what she’s already in.

Because she’s pretty banged up. There’s a cut on her lip and one of the first things Jason tended to was the wound on her cheek. They had to squeeze into his small bathroom as he helped her wash, disinfect, and bandage the soft skin. He didn’t have any make up remover, so she still has mascara darkening the skin under her eyes. Her hair’s a mess, frizzed and knotted from being pulled, from being wrapped around someone’s fist, and her clothes are dirty, the knees of her jeans ripped.

When Jason first saw her, he wanted to go back to the people who did this, do something so much worse than what they did to her, but the logical part of him hit before he left, reminding him that although she isn’t broken, she’s battered and bruised and needs help being put back together.

So, he places the bandage at the inside of her wrist, just below her thumb, and begins wrapping it around her wrist, once, twice, before going diagonally, towards her pinky finger, then straight across the other fingers, and finally going back down the back of her hand. He repeats the process a few more times, wrapping the bandage in a sort of figure of eight motion. And she’s a trooper, really, not complaining one bit even though he knows it must hurt no matter how careful he’s being.

“You know,” he begins, clearing his throat. “When I taught you how to throw a punch, I didn’t think you’d actually to do it.”

“If you don’t want me to defend myself, then don’t teach me self-defense,” she says, pouting.

“I just hate that you had to do it all.”

“It could have been worse. If you didn’t teach me at all, it could have been so much worse.”

It’s supposed to be comforting. She’s saying thank you, she’s saying that because he taught her this, he protected her. But Jason still hates it. Wishes that he was there to show that mobster who the hell he thinks he’s fighting. He tries to find solace in the fact that Batgirl swooped in when she did, stopping things from escalating further, from getting to the point where he couldn’t fix her on his own.

“I’m pretty shit at keeping promises, huh?” He does one final round around her wrist before securing the bandage.

"Jason, no, honey, don’t say that.” She tries to touch him, to bring her hand up to cradle his face but then she winces, remembering why she can’t, the injury forgotten in the wake of reassuring him. “It was just some bad luck.”

“You didn’t use to have bad luck.”

And for some reason, she smiles. She smiles at this, this unfortunate turn of events, and Jason can’t figure out why.

“You remember,” she says, and now, now Jason understands. It’s something from their shared past. The fact that she never used to find herself in these types of situations. “It’s fine, Jason. No one walks alone at night without knowing the risks.”

“I still hate it.” He pinches the tip of her finger to check for circulation, to make sure he didn’t wrap her hand too tight. When the color comes back, he pinches it again.

“Same, but it’s done and, really, it could have been worse. My bag wasn’t stolen. I’m still alive. And I’m pretty sure I gave that jerk a black eye before Batgirl broke his face.”

There’s an excited look on her face now, a sparkle in her eyes.

“It was amazing, Jason! This guy thought he can just rough me up, take my things, and then POW I gave him the good one-two, y’know? He didn’t even see it coming! He lost his balance. He fell! And he was pissed, he’s so pissed that I did that to him that he didn’t even notice Batgirl gliding in before BAM she flips him over her shoulder and kicks him in the face!”

And Jason is smiling now, too, loving that although this bad thing happened, she’s not letting it ruin her night. She finds something about it that’s good and maybe he should be concerned that she does, that she’s getting excited over Batgirl kicking some mobster’s ass, but hell, he feels the hype, can imagine the takedown. And he makes a mental note to thank Barbara again for being there.

“You think you can teach me that, too?” She asks once she’s calmed down. She’s breathing heavily and Jason hands her the bottle of water he told her to drink ages ago but has remained untouched.

“I’d prefer it if you ran away from trouble, but sure. You’re gonna have to work up to it though—lift some weights if you’re thinking of throwing down grown men.”

“Ugh. Heavy lifting. Let’s put this on the maybe pile of weekend activities. So, how has your night been?”

Jason wonders if he should talk about it. If he should mention the progress they’ve made on Batman’s last case, or maybe explain to her how and why the temperature dropped so drastically last week. And maybe warn her against accepting anything from a Dr. Q, because you can’t trust Harley, not really. But he thinks that maybe telling her all this will scare her, make her realize how much worse tonight could have gone if she went face to face with someone stronger.

And he doesn’t want to make this night worse when it already looks like it’s getting better.

But he doesn’t want to lie, either. Because this is different than his usual relationships outside the Belfry, outside those he’s made as a vigilante. She knows him, both inside and outside the helmet, so he doesn’t need to talk in code, doesn’t need to make up some obscure job, or excuse. And sure, he’s had relationships like that before, too, but this is different somehow.

She’s different. And he’ll probably never say it out loud, but something about her just makes him want to bare it all, to let her see all the ugliness in him, to see if she’ll still want to be with him after, to see if she’ll still call him friend, if maybe, just maybe, they could be more than just that, but at the same time, he wants to shield her away from it all, to keep her at a distance so she’ll never know, so that she’ll keep looking at him the way she does. Because he doesn’t want to risk it, to risk her leaving.

“It’s been… alright,” he begins and decides that she can tell him herself how much she wants to know. “You want the shorthand or the blow by blow?”

“Really?” And she surprised, confused. “You’ll really tell me everything?”

“Well, maybe not everything,” Jason backtracks. She knows who he is, but can he really believe that she hasn’t figured out the rest? He thinks that maybe once you know one secret identity, you know them all, but people can surprise you with how easily they can connect the dots, or how dense they can be. “Somethings I think it’s safer if you don’t know.”

“Oh, yeah. I can see that. You can’t torture out information I don’t have.”

“No one’s going to torture you, angel.”

“Of course not, because you’ll stop them.”

And she looks at him in a way that makes him feel ten feet tall. Full of trust. Full of something that he thinks can somehow, someway, someday turn into love. But not yet. They’re not there yet, but he can feel it, deep down, that they can get there, one day. If they just keep nurturing this thing between them, allow it to grow.

And when it does, when they allow it to blossom, then she’ll know, she’ll know that he’ll do more, that he’s capable of doing more than just simply stopping someone from hurting her.

Because he’s made a promise and if anyone dares to touch her again, to hurt her, to do worse than what she’s experienced so far, he’ll become something worse than the monsters in the night.

...

Chapter 6

#gotham knights #gotham knights video game #gotham knights!jason #gotham knights fanfic #gotham knights fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd reader #jason toddxreader #jason todd/reader #fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #no yn #red hood #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #red hood reader

77 notes · View notes

hedge-rambles · 1 year

Text

"And who even cares about Babs?"

Been having some thoughts about Naberius Tern, following on from this post (OP @sainamoonshine) about Babs, and how we really ought to think more about him.

First things first: 1 - Our views of Babs are, I think, heavily skewed by the fact that Gideon is our POV character in GtN and she just straight up doesn't like him. 2 - I think @masctoast was onto something about Taz dropping Boofy to get us all thinking about Babs, but take it one further and it might be that he's still going to be important somehow beyond as just a fancy outfit for Ianthe.

I've written afore about how I think we need to definitely not underestimate Coronabeth, that despite Ianthe's view of things, Corona is wickedly smart and in a lot more control of situations than her sister ever realises. From that post:

The Third House is the house of lies and deceit said with a shining smile, of pretty words and poisoned knives. The reductive characterisation of the house as a whole is grasping and underhanded and raised to deceive for their own motives, it’s their job, but Coronabeth Tridentarius is an entire level beyond that.

But the thing to remember is that Babs is also Third House, and he was in on the ruse the whole time as well. Babs knew Corona wasn't a necro, and spent much of his life bonded to the two of them as part of the Grand Deception. And we know that was a partnership made up of two cavs and a necro really. I think that, fundamentally, Corona and Babs had a lot to connect over, having similar strengths (beautiful, strong, cavaliers) and similar trials (24/7 Ianthe exposure) and, though we don't see it played out in the books explicitly, we can infer some things.

In NtN, what is one of the first things Crown says to Ianthe wearing Babs? She complains that Ianthe just can't do Babs' hair right, and implies that she can and always could style his hair. She also used to do Ianthe's hair for her, and it's an intimate act in many ways, social grooming.

In GtN Corona reveals herself to be a fairly decent swordswoman, trained with the rapier in secret. Who exactly do we think trained Coronabeth? I think it's safe to say it was Babs, one of the only people in on the fact that she wasn't a necro. They shared their training with each other.

The first post I linked talks about the fact that, read a certain way, Babs is plausibly spending a lot of time making an arse of himself in order to protect Corona's secret. But I think, with that in mind, we can reread a specific early scene in GtN to suggest Corona is also protecting Babs.

Ianthe is cruel and vicious and self absorbed and prickly, and of the trio she's the only one who's an adept. A flesh adept no less, and presumably able to inflict some truly unpleasant non-lethal acts on anyone who draws her ire. In their first proper scene, Gideon spies them all having one of their little tiffs, in which Babs has a go at Ianthe in defence of Corona. How does Corona respond? She leaps to Ianthe's defence, pinching Babs' ear and telling him to back the fuck off. We know now that Ianthe was not someone desperately in need of protecting, neither physically nor emotionally, she wasn't some weak, wilting wallflower.

So why did she do it? Was it because of her deeply enmeshed, codependent thing with her sister? Well, yes, obviously. But if we consider that Corona and Babs may have been genuinely close friends, actually cared about each other's wellbeing...that can be read as having another layer to it. That is to say, Corona is protecting Babs from Ianthe, by taking control of the situation, salving Ianthe's anger and also ensuring that the only harm that comes to Babs is relatively minor, compared to what Ianthe might be able to do.

And it makes sense, the three of them have been together for a long time, and for all Ianthe and Corona desperately love each other in their fucked up way, I think Corona and Naberius may have had a very deep connection as each other's confidants and friends. Babs was one of the few people Corona could bitch to about Ianthe, one of the only people who genuinely knew what was going on with them. Babs was the only person she could really talk to about cav shit, who knew she was truly made to be a cavalier, not a necro - her secret sparring partner.

We can never take anything said and done by the Third House at face value, their whole deal is social subterfuge. Knives and plots hidden behind glittering smiles. I think Corona spent much of her life deceiving Ianthe as to how much power she actually wielded, how much control she actually had over their ruse. In NtN we see how quick and adept she is at handling Ianthe, even when her sister is on a level of power unto a minor god.

And I'm not sure we can even trust her words fully at the end of GtN when Ianthe ate Babs. In that scene, Babs is dead, Ianthe is Ianthe and Corona is a blubbering mess, distraught.

Corona recoiled from Gideon and looked up at her, her golden hair smeared to her forehead with sweat and tears. “She took Babs,” she said, which seemed fair enough. But then Corona started crying again, big tears leaking out of her eyes, her voice thick with misery and self-pity. “And who even cares about Babs? Babs! She could have taken me.

I think it's safe to say that part of this is 100% as it's surface read, Corona's massive co-dependence with Ianthe, she honestly feels upset that Ianthe didn't eat her soul. But I think there's another layer to her grief, that Gideon thinks she's been mistaken about after the first pass. I think she's genuinely upset about the loss of Babs, her friend and confidant, her second closest person other than Ianthe.

"And who even cares about Babs?" You did, Coronabeth Tridentarius. You cared about Babs.

#tlt #gtn #nona the ninth #naberius tern #coronabeth tridentarius #content warning: ianthe tridentarius #idk it just got me thinking #like I genuinely think Ianthe felt very little about Babs #not nothing but comparatively little #but Corona? I think she genuinely cared #she asks why Ianthe didn't take her and part of that is deffo their deranged thing #but also perhaps part of it is also her grief for Babs #she's genuinely rather she died instead #both to be a part of Ianthe and because I think she would rather Babs had lived #If there's one thing we know about Ianthe it's that for all her intellect and brillaince #she's honestly terrible at reading a situation #she thinks she's the main character - that it's all about her really #that she's just so much smarter than everyone else around her #and in some ways she absolutely is!#but their big ruse over the years? that wasn't kept up by Ianthe really #she did the necromancy of course and that's not to be ignored #but the actual misdirection? the convincing people that Corona was a necro too? handling *people*?#that was Corona and Babs all the way

27 notes · View notes

lorbanery · 1 year

Text

I've been tweeting a bit through mine and @ark-shifter's first play-through of Gotham Knights on Twitter (you can see my ongoing list of the explicitly queer parts of the game (including Tim's canon bisexuality, The Squad making plans to go to Pride, and multiple pride flags as far as the eye can see) here). But I wanted to talk a bit more extensively about Dick Grayson in the game and how the writers and devs so carefully made him Schroedinger's Queer.

And just to be clear about this from the start: This is not a callout post or an accusation of queerbaiting. I'll explain more why later, but my stance is that they did an excellent job and I love the way they handled it.

Needless to say, but saying nonetheless: Spoilers under the cut.

First let me explain what I mean by Schroedinger's Queer.

Basically, every bit of queerness that comes up around Dick is circumstantial evidence. It might be confirmation that Dick is queer, but there might be some other reason for it.

I realize that's not very clear, so here's the examples I can remember off the top of my head:

During one of Dick's cut scenes, Alfred makes him some tea and serves it to him in a souvenir bi pride Bludhaven mug. You could interpret this as that mug being his mug, that he bought it because he identifies as bi and wanted the mug because of that. But he might have bought it because Tim is bi and it meant something to him because of that. He might have bought it for Tim. Or maybe he didn't buy it at all, maybe it's Tim's mug that he bought for himself when he was visiting Bludhaven. Babs emails Dick about an interview that he did, specifically mentioning the number he did on the interviewer. The email includes a snippet of the interview where the male interviewer talks about Dick being extremely flirtatious with him, and quotes him answering a question about his type with, to paraphrase, "I don't have a type, all people are beautiful." You can interpret this as an at least semi-authentic interview where Dick's answering genuinely, even if he is playing up a flirty public persona. Or, given the number of discussions of Bruce's flirty playboy persona (there's video of a half-naked table dance with an ice sculpture) in the game in general, you can just interpret this as Dick picking up where Bruce left off and taking on his own flirty playboy persona where he says things he doesn't really mean to throw the public off the scent. There's an email exchange between Babs and Jason where they make plans to attend Pride in costume because Babs overheard Dick and Tim talking about going together. You could interpret this as Tim and Dick talking about going without including Babs and Jason because Dick and Tim are the queer ones and it's a queer event and so they want to go. But they don't say why Tim and Dick talked about going without including Babs and Jason. Maybe Tim just brought up wanting to go but not wanting to go alone and Dick was like "Yeah totally, I'll come with you" and they were going to ask Babs and Jay to come with but they beat them to it. Tim tells Babs about this boy who flirts with him and just asked him out and he said yes. Babs is super encouraging and tells him that if he ever needs any advice, she's dated a lot of guys and she learned nothing, so he should just ask Dick. This could be Babs telling Tim that Dick has better experiences dating men than she does so he'll have better advice than her! But it could also just be about Dick being Tim's oldest brother and the one he asks for advice first anyway for things interpersonal stuff. Maybe she genuinely thinks that he's learned more from all the dating he's done. Or maybe it's just because he's a guy who's dated before and will know better what a guy wants out of a relationship.

Now I, as a queer and a firm supporter of Queer Dick Grayson, am certainly inclined to read these things in the gayest possible framing. But someone who is straight and/or inclined to see Dick as straight can easily just see someone who's supportive of his bi brother and uses hypersexuality as a means of distracting people from thinking he's roaming the streets at night fighting badguys (which, I'll be honest, is less effective for Nightwing than it was for Batman, but that's besides the point).

Like, say, the people who own the character and have a financial interest in discouraging any evolution of the character that could be controversial and/or they see as fundamentally changing him.

There have been efforts to introduce queerness into established superheroes (in both Marvel and DC) for DECADES. A lot of times when you see something in a comic that seems really gay and you're like, "How did the artists/writers NOT REALIZE" they absolutely did realize and are doing everything short of explicitly confirming it in-panel because the higher ups won't let them.

Tim Drake was originally introduced in 1989, basically as a way to reintroduce Robin with a more personable character than Jason had. He was not allowed to be explicitly queer until 2022.

33 YEARS.

For a character who basically existed as a second attempt to give Batman a Robin again because they were invested in Dick being Nightwing so they didn't want to revert him back, and they let Jason be killed, but Batman had only been without a Robin for his very first year of publication. So they needed someone in the position and they needed someone who was least likely to cause a visceral reaction in their readers like Jason did. (Which, to be clear, isn't to say that Tim hasn't evolved into a really interesting, nuanced, and generally wonderful character in his own right; or that the folks who actually created him didn't create him also conceive him as a fleshed out character.)

But we're talking about Dick Grayson. Who, at this point, has existed for 83 years. Less than twenty years shy of a century. He's existed almost as long as Superman and Batman — Superman was introduced in 1938, Batman in 1939, and Dick in 1940. He may not hold exactly the same place in popular culture that Superman and Batman do, Robin is still a legacy character, "Batman & Robin" is a phrase that basically everyone knows, and when you ask the average person who Robin is, they'll answer or describe Dick Grayson.

And Dick Grayson is not allowed to be queer.

He's too well-known. He's too popular. He has too much publication history where he's written, ostensibly, as straight. It doesn't matter that a large swath of his fans are, themselves, some flavor of queer. It doesn't matter that citing his publication history is patently ridiculous given the nature of the superhero comic industry. It doesn't matter that real life people have revelations about their sexuality at all points in life and "some point in their twenties" is literally one of the most common and far from the latest. It doesn't matter that bisexuality exists and would allow Dick to be queer without invalidating all of the (extremely popular) canon relationships he's been in over the years .

And this is when we swing back around to the question of how is this not queerbaiting.

First let's define queerbaiting. Queerbaiting is a term for media where the narrative hints at characters being queer — or that queerness plays a large role in the romantic plot(s) — but in actuality it's either a very small part or never actually exists at all.

A really blatant example of this was the marketing campaign for the first season of Riverdale. A clip of Betty and Veronica kissing was used in the ads and commercials. By featuring it in an ad for a show that hadn't premiered yet, they implied that some level of queerness between Betty and Veronica would be a regular, if not prominent, feature of the first season at least.

In actuality, the kiss was a single, one-off moment that, in the narrative of the scene, was just meant to surprise the girls running cheerleading tryouts and it never came up again.

With that in mind, I can see how reading all of these hints at Dick being queer with nary a peep of actual explicit confirmation might make people cry queerbaiting. But I don't think it is. For a few reasons.

One of them, I admit, is pure vibes. This all feels, to me, like a genuine expression of queerness. I don't know how many, if any, of the writers or devs of Gotham Knights are queer. But as a queer person — particularly one who's read queerness in Dick Grayson for a long time — this felt not only true to Dick's character, but true to a queer reading of his character.

Particularly in conjunction with word from on high that Dick isn't allowed to explicitly be queer. It's as queer as they could safely make him without getting in trouble or having DC scrap the whole project or give it to someone else.

And then ... there's everything else. All those bits and pieces and details that I mentioned in that Twitter thread. The rainbow flags, the gay neighborhood, the pride flag colorways for the bike, the number of explicitly queer NPC's just roaming around their version of Gotham. It would be one thing if it was just a one-off bit of idle dialogue about Tim's boyfriend and the interview snippet and maybe a rainbow flag above the arcade, maybe even the Pride mural in the gayborhood. That's what I would expect from a kind of well-meaning but kind of clueless dev team who doesn't really understand queer culture.

But you don't populate your game with gay NPC's and let players ride around on a nonbinary pride colored bike if you're not genuine in your desire to give some real, genuine, thoughtful queer rep.

#gotham knights #nightwing #dick grayson #dc comics #gotham knights game

17 notes · View notes

dailycass-cain · 1 year

Text

Harley Quinn & the Legion of Bats #6 concluded the series last week. What did Cass do in the issue and what becomes of her? How is Cass's overall appearance in the comic? Questions. So many questions. Time for answers.

Naturally, every plot thread in the comic is wrapped up this issue by writer Tee Franklin with a nice tidy bow. No loose plot threads. Everything is contained and ended that the story created.

Harley and Ivy are the centers of the story, with each doing their thing well. I found the ending quite cute. That and it's not nice to mess with Mother Nature.

So what about Cass? What did I think about this issue aka the million-dollar question probably on many's minds? It didn't bother me at all.

Already at the core, Harley Quinn: TAS is flawed by having Babs as a college kid and Batgirl. So anything done with Cass is burdened with a lot of rules from the get-go.

#1 She has to be younger than Babs.

#2 She can't be Batgirl.

#3 She can't fully be with the Bat-Family.

#4 She has to be written out to "preserve" continuity.

Course the question becomes will Harley Season 4 even acknowledge this mini? I hope it does, but odds are likely it won't.

Which odds are even more likely there will be 0 Cass in Season 4. 😖

So with ALL these rules, Franklin does a very admirable job with Cass. You can tell she likes the character (along with Tiffany Fox). Still surprised this series had 0 Stephanie Brown. Figured Franklin would go full League of Batgirls homage with three out of the four.

Now I want to reread the comic as a whole to see if she fully slipped it in there. I'm a bit surprised Tiffany or Cass didn't have a line like, "WE WANT TO BE BATGIRLS!" But I digress, we did get a few nods of other things with Cass.

So let's talk about the “bat in the room” first aka the thing many fans freaked out about. Cass pecks Damian on the cheek.

I get the "why" fans are ticked. It's a common Batgirl trope outside media (mainly Babs) where the Batgirl is used as nothing more than a love interest for a Robin or even Batman himself. The idea itself is 🤢🤢🤢 HOWEVER--

I took this kiss on the cheek as a nod to the past. Namely showing kindness as best she can to kind people. Nothing romantic per se, just Cass expressing thankfulness for the kindness.

See for this ENTIRE series Damian's been there for her. Not Babs. Not Dick. Damian. I know Franklin couldn't fully showcase "the why", but given the two's similar origin paths. It’s more of showing then telling.

I think Damian realized after last issue's Cass owning of Babs and putting together the facts that she and Vixen's case involved children used as weapons. I think it's a rare case of Damian showing some humanity. Something he's barely shown in the HQ series.

The other is well-- someone to bond with. Damian has teenagers and adults he deals with constantly. No one HIS AGE. Cass and Tiffany are the first kids he's met and is vigilanting with. It reminds me of Steph coming to this realization in Batgirl Vol 3. That deep down thru all the ice Damian gives us, he’s a lonely kid who was denied this. So he’s giving Cass something he never got.

This was one of the few times he let the walls fade and we saw him for who he truly was: lonely. Even the panel prior gives it away. Cass can see it in his body language.

That he's not a punk kid and is adept enough to recognize things and showed Cass something she hasn't ever seen-- kindness.

So I feel the kiss on the cheek was Cass thanking Damian in her own way along with it being the only dialogue she had in the series.

I don't take it anything romantic at all between the two for the scene. Just Cass being Cass and Damian showing deep down he's kind of a softie and her being eternally grateful for that.

I really don't think Franklin was going with this trope AT ALL. I found this mini to be a small love letter to the character, and Franklin doing the best she had with the limitations she's got.

Speaking of which, given that this was the end of the series what becomes of Cass? That was the question I was asking myself. Could she end up with the Bat-Family?

Doubtful, again given the "rules".

A happy ending with an adoptive family was what I thought was going to occur. Nope, and the twist Franklin gave us surprised me...

Cass is going to Themyscira and being adopted by the Amazons with Diana as her "big sis".

For years Cass fans wanted this to a degree and well ironically we got this from TWO separate writers who decided, "WISH GRANTED!"

Now writer Tom Taylor's Cass from Dark Knights of Steel was more a sleeper agent of Bruce's who bonded with the Amazon ways.

I think it's quite nice to have two writers reach this conclusion with Cassandra on their own and weave this take.

By doing this, Franklin takes the restraints and leaves it open for the possibility of this Cass coming back (if she's given another series). But if not? We got a firm seed that she can return.

That is if the actual cartoon will ever acknowledge this (it probably won't). Though I think it should.

Cause Franklin took the stuff that Season 3 left and did an excellent job doing her own thing with these characters.

Like a sweet dessert after a hearty main course.

I'm not going to begrudge Franklin for not fully defining Cass here. She had six issues with MULTIPLE characters (and Cass wasn't a main). This was just a nice nod to the character.

Something at the very least the main series SHOULD have given us. I'm thankful for this gift. Because anything Cass should be cherished.

But that's just me. I'm just this way after this long road I've been on with the character. I'm more open to new paths for the character and ones that open new readers to them.

I'll take this a hundred times over than what we got in Gotham Knights which was the same old same old. So yeah I want to thank the creators for this series for this fun story. I had a kick and I want more.

I really want to thank Tee Franklin for doing this. She didn't have to include Tiffany or Cass in this series, but she did. And they both stole it for me. I mean obviously Cass for me because...

#dc comics #cassandra cain #my thoughts

8 notes · View notes

himbos-hotline · 7 months

Note

tell me about your OCs 👀👀👀

Okay so I have a LOT oc aew ocs because theres so many little guys there that I wanted to make a special little guy for! super big help from my sibling who was always like "do we need another bab?" and then I nod.

Im putting them under a read more option cuz theres SO FUCKING MANY

Jayden Gray Orton: Jay

My most special of gals. They are the girls,gays and the theys! A wrestler for AEW that started off in the JAS before joining the BCC and now a member of the elite [ish...kinda like elite adjacent] Her pronouns are: He/They/She/Zem with no real prefrence. Zey simply ARE gender! a pop-punk bitch whose made of love and violence, can and will bleed and also break a few of their hearing aids in the way- has been wrestling since they were 13- adores regal with everything. Dating the polycule: Wheeler Yuta, Kenny Omega, Hangman Page and Adam Cole [baybay]

Iris rose:

Technically my siblings OC but my child-in-law [@itsnoosetome] The sweetest little southern bell. Wish we could say that we named her after the Orvelle peck song but we sadly didnt. The best sweet trans gal youll meet, sweet to adam cole and dating brit baker dmd. A doctor with AEW, Iris has seen and heard pretty much, and stitched Darby up enough times that its become her daily task. Pronouns are: She/They

Delilah Hart:

Not related to the Hart family, Think more Roxie hart from Chicago. Another trans girl in the medical staff. Delilah was and has been there since the start of the company. very quiet and rather shy. They went to the same highschool as Max- being the new kid when they moved from Tuscany Italy to Long Island. Married too Chuck Taylor despite them "not remembering the wedding" since Delilah hadn't finished her medical transition. Mostly fluent in Italian, Delilah is trying their best and is a skill, kindhearted sweetheart whose not afraid of people. Gets worn down quickly by people who ask stupid questions

Rosalind Emmerson:

The dress maker for Delilahs wedding. Got into wrestling as a ring announcer in CZW/PWG/other indy shows. Chuck introduced her and Orange and they striked up a quick friendship, the two of them being total opposites as people. Being of spanish decent, Rosa started working in mexico and eventually was hired by AEW. Pronouns she/it. They identify as nonbinary

Sparrow Elmswood:

Nicknamed Splash because of constantly being covered in paint, Splash helps with set design for promos as well as clothes design. A loud, boisterous but gentle demiboy- Sparrow uses all pronouns but she/her. He enjoys space and always has a notebook. Splash also frequents the production truck to help make entrance videos/video packages and loves it. Shipped with jungle boy

Nathaniel ''Natty' Paccoto:

sometimes something short and sweet comes in small packages and for Natty thats very true. Another demiboy they work for the ring crew- setting up and taking down the ring as well as stocking weapons [and making sure danhausen is okay under there]. regularly found taking naps backstage during the show or playing basketball they quickly grab Nick Jacksons attention as friends and then something just a little more. Natty takes a little while to become aware with the world but once he knows thats happening- boy do they not shut up. Pronouns are he/him. Never seen without a headband/something on his head

Elenore 'ellie' Kingston:

A camera woman for AEW, Ellie is regularly seen with her brother or outside the arena taking pictures that most could consider macarbe. She is very femmine and soft despite all the anger that she has- this leads to her pushing emotions down. The camera person that Jay attacks when they debut with the JAS [Jay didnot want too] Ellie adores her job. dating Ruby Soho just because Eddie would not shut the fuck up about her ["Look if I go on a date with her..will you ask mox out?" "deal.." "deal"]

Lyric Senericha:

Ricky as they are known are the older sibling of HOOK. Mostly around backstage to support their father/brother Lyric is bright and happy and reguarly helps out backstage just wanting to be useful. Aroace they and matt are platonicly dating. They are the triple AAA and reguarly found trying to get people to try the milkshakes from whatever store is the closest. Their pronouns are they/them

Anne Reed:

Your sterotypical happy go lucky nothing can go wrong young woman. Shes bright and bouncy picture a golden retriever and you have anne. She adores pirates and kandi beads. Crushing on John silver, she just thinks hes a pirate in discuse. She also works in the clothing department and she adores halloween. Anne is so much like emlo

Dana Mallory:

Dana works back home in indiana, working on merch designs for the best friends and especially Trent's ring gear and stuff. Her and trent met sharing the same ward after spinal surgery. Dana is an ambigatory wheelchair used.

Sylvester Harwood:

Not related to Dax, Sly is the one to help wrestlers with high spots. A former star of stage and screen as a skateboarder and rollerblade star, Darbys attention was grabbed instantly, now xey just vibe. despite their love for trying to kill themselves, Xey are pretty chill. Loves using outdated slang

Coal Cindela:

A former drag king turned makeup artist. Coal is facinated by brody king. Theres not much to say about coal apart from the fact they're outgoing and bubbly. pronouns are They/He/Fae. They adore fireflies and primarily exist at night.

Aiko Wanatabe:

A young traumatised person Aiko was born and raised harshly in Kyushu, Japan. A Kenny friend and is the first one to notice DiD traits in him. Aiko is rather quiet and withdrawn When she slowly warms to you she quietly takes care of you, gives you some of her food if you look hungry, gives gently pat pats to make feel better. She pratically clings to riho- her safe person.

Kyanite Wyatt:

little sister is the late bray wyatt. Kyan moved to aew to help with security. a total opposite of his brother and love interest they start appearing on BTE. crushing on brandon. No he also doesnt understand why. Kyan likes spicy things and likes biting on things

2 notes · View notes

eyes-of-mischief · 1 year

Text

weekly fic recs | 37

fandoms: dc, fma, hp, jjk, naruto, sherlock

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map by ebjameston

CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us Red Hood: He's fine where he is CPS: He's a minor Hood: Timbo, you a minor? Tim: Can't prove it CPS: I mean, I can. There are records – Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records

+++

A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office.

It's a weird day for Theo.

The Boys of Summer by TheResurrectionist

The bat bros are ride or die. And if that means searching for a very specific kind of pudding in the middle of the night so pregnant Babs doesn’t kill Dick, and fighting off the subsequent mafia hit job that follows, then they’re gonna fucking do that, you know?

it's all about light because all its been before is shadows by victoriousscarf

“Aren’t you supposed to be attacking me too?” the boy in front of him asked, even though there was already blood on his cheeks and he was favoring one side.

Talon tilted his head because he already knew the answer to that question was a yes. “You seem to be barely standing as it is.”

jjk

In the Silence, I Hear Your Voice by TheLamplightDetective

Toge felt Yuuta’s fingers drift against his, the barest moment of skin on skin, and his heart tugged harder, as if to pull his attention to this moment, declaring This. This is good. This is perfect. Hold onto it. How achingly unfair that it could all be destroyed in mere seconds.

It was easy, he had discovered, to thrive on dust and darkness, but only if you had forgotten the taste of the light.

After years being called a monster, Inumaki Toge has finally found a place to call home. But the past casts a long shadow, and the sight of a familiar face sends him spiralling back into his childhood, a place where he was a tool, a dog to be used, where his silence was the greatest gift he could give the world. This is the Inumaki curse, to be lost in the darkness - but his is not the only voice crying out to be heard. Inumaki backstory, with Toge/Yuuta romance.

jjk x dc

blaring trumpets (heralding thorns) by whatisthisnightmare

Toge didn’t mean to get careless. But when all is said and done, he slipped up, and now he’s in a smelly alley watching a cosplayer shoot through the knee of a robber. Things could be worse.

Meanwhile, Red Hood would like the kid he saved to stop trolling him with Japanese food.

jjk x naruto

rain on my parade by unolvrs

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence, major character death)

The audacity of this world to give her Fushiguro’s eyes and Itadori’s hair—Nobara is left with nothing but memories of what-could-have-been, and she has never felt more alone.

(Or: Nobara dislikes the name ‘Sakura’.)

Princeps by Lomonaaeren

Harry has worked for years as an Unspeakable to identify the best point where he might go back in time to change the impact of Voldemort’s war. Now he knows: he will have to return to his parents’ Hogwarts years and encourage the Slytherins to stand on their own instead of following a leader. He knows how to assume the post of Defense professor and how to reach the Slytherins. And from there, well, surely nothing can go too wrong.

Don't Fuck With Florists (They'll Fuck You Up) by MayMarlow

Unsatisfied with his post-war life, Harry decides to get to the root of all of his problems when that root was still working at Borgin and Burkes shop in the late 40s. He’s the Master of Death, damn it, he can do what he wants for once in his life.

Tom Riddle isn’t particularly happy about working at a small, dingy shop for magical artifacts, no matter how interesting those artifacts are. He’s even less happy when an insufferable stranger sets up the most obnoxious flower shop right across the street.

What follows would be a romantic comedy, if it weren’t for politics.

fma x hp

snipers solve 99% of all problems by silentwalrus

(mature)

Ed had thought, after the whole Promised Day, homunculus, entire country harvested for alchemical batteries thing, the batshit quotient of his life would have settled down some. He really ought to have topped out the meter with that one. But no. The bullshit is just getting started.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Ed demands. “The wizards?”

Thaumaturgical Studies by liketolaugh

Two years after Tom Riddle's diary comes into his possession, Dumbledore is almost certain that it is a horcrux. All he needs is independent confirmation - which is, unfortunately, very difficult to find when dealing with such advanced magic. Luckily, Edward Elric is a genius, an alchemist, and especially, a specialist in human transmutation.

His job becomes a lot harder when his automail gives out three steps into Hogwarts' wards. sherlock x hp

Whispers in Corners by esama

Everything started with a stumble - his new life in a new world as well as his surprisingly successful career as a medium.

#dc fic recs #dc #fma fic recs #fma #jjk fic recs #jjk #naruto fic recs #naruto #sherlock fic recs #sherlock #weekly fic recs #no prompt

12 notes · View notes

hintofelation99 · 3 years

Text

Bruce, handing Jason a present: Happy birthday Jaylad, I’m so glad you decided to spend this one with the family.

Jason, opening his present: Thanks B, it’s nice to- what is this?

Bruce: It’s a new bag, now you can get rid of the old one.

Jason: My old duffel bag is in perfect condition, why would I get rid of it?

Bruce: Well, I wouldn’t say it’s in perfect condition. It has some pretty bad stains…

Jason: Alfred got most of those out for me. You know that.

Bruce: Well, it- I just- for the love of god Jason you kept drug dealers heads in that bag!

Jason: Exactly, that just proves it’s a sturdy bag!

Bruce: But the bloodstains!

Jason: Are mostly gone!

Bruce: Just throw out the bag Jason!

Jason: No! It’s sentimental!

Bruce: It’s senti- what the fuck Jason?!

Jason: I’ve had that bag since I was a kid, since before you took me off the streets…

Bruce: Oh, Jason I’m sorry I didn’t-

Jason: Nah I’m just kidding I got it at Walmart after I cut off the first drug lords head and realized I had no where to put it.

Bruce:

Jason: Still not throwing it out.

———

Dick: Happy birthday Little Wing! I’m so glad you’re back and celebrating with us, I really went all out on your present this year.

Dick passes Jason a large box.

Jason: Thanks Dickface, I’m happy to-

Dick absolutely giddy.

Jason: Dick, is this my headstone?

Dick: Yes.

Jason: Did you steal my headstone?

Dick: Yes.

Jason: Did you really steal my headstone, wrap it up, and give it to me for my birthday?

Dick: Yes.

Jason: And you thought this was a good idea?

Dick: Yes.

Jason: …

Dick: So, do you like it? Or do you love it?

Jason looks at the headstone, face blank.

Jason: Dick, I- this- this is the best fucking present you ever got me, let’s go hang it!

———

Jason: So, Timmy…

Tim, on the bat computer not paying attention to Jason: What.

Jason: Y’know it’s my birthday, right?

Tim: Of course I do, why else would I be wearing all black.

Jason: Okay, hardy har har, a super boy t-shirt and black sweatpants don’t count as a mourning outfit.

Tim: Keep telling yourself that.

Jason rolls his eyes leans on Tim’s chair. He proceeds to subtly try to annoy Tim.

Tim: What? Did you come here just to annoy me or did you want something?

Jason: Well, now that you ask… what’d you get me for my birthday?

Tim: Nothing.

Jason, looking unimpressed: Really? You got me nothing?

Tim: Yup. Nothing.

Dick walks into the cave looking at some papers, not paying attention.

Dick: Wow Tim, nice job with that new community center! I still can't believe you were able to buy Jason's old apartment complex before they demolished it.

Dick looks up: Oh, hi Jason! Have you visited the Catherine Todd Community Center yet?

Jason turns to Tim who's basically glowing red. Tim tries not to make eye contact.

Jason: Did you turn my old apartment into a community center?!

Tim: No.

Jason: You fucking liar! How did you do that without me noticing?

Tim, whispering clearly embarassed about how much effort he put into Jason's birthday: You were off planet... and I was, uh, bored?

Jason: You are such a little liar you shithead, god fucking dammit Tim!

Tim: I'm sorry okay!

Jason: Why the fuck are you apologizing?! This is the best present ever you asshole!

Tim: Then why do you sound mad?!?!

Jason: IT'S CALLED BEING AGGRESSIVELY HAPPY ASSHOLE! Fuck, you suck... and I love you... you're a good brother... asshole.

Tim: It wasn't just me, Cass helped.

Dick: Cass has been coordinating the after school events, she's surprisingly good at it. Honestly it could be a future career path.

Cass: Maybe.

Everyone jumps.

Jason: Holy shit, when did you get here?!

Cass: Been here.

Cass passes Jason a brochure for the Catherine Todd Community Center.

Cass: Happy birthday!

———

Damian: Todd. I am told that it is tradition to give family members birthday presents. Here is yours.

Damian immediately leaves.

Jason, looking at the box and reading the letter aloud: 'For the next time'?

Jason opens the box.

Jason: YOU GOT ME A SHOVEL YOU ASSHOLE?!?!

———

Duke, passes Jason an envelope: Hey Jay, happy birthday!

Jason, slowly opening the envelope: Thanks Duke.

Jason looks at the two slips of paper and smiles.

Jason: Wait, what? Are these?

Duke: Two tickets to hear Margaret Atwood speak, I thought it might be fun together. I mean- uh, unless you don't want to- you can take Roy or some one else. I know we're technically brothers, but like-

Jason: Shut up Dukie-

Duke: Did you just call me Dookie-

Jason: Shhh, shut up, there's no technically about it. We're brothers and we're gonna go to this talk together and bond and shit.

Duke smiles: Oh, okay, cool.

———

Steph throws a book at Jason's head: Happy birthday asshole.

Jason, looks at it slightly confused: Wait, did you get me a fucking coupon book?

Steph: Yup, I'm not adopted, I don't get that good good Wayne allowance.

Jason, looks at it for a second then shrugs: Fair, wanna go to Olive Garden? I have a buy one get one entree?

Steph: Hell yeah.

———

Babs tosses a bag at Jason, and tries not to smile: Happy birthday.

Jason, pulls a hoodie out of the bag: What the fuck?

Turns the hoodie around to reveal a sweatshirt that says "Red-arse 4ever" With a giant heart.

Babs, trying not to laugh: Do you like it?

Jason glaring at her: I hate you.

Babs: Try it on!

Jason: Fuck you I'm not-

Roy walks in and sees the hoodie.

Roy: Babe! I love it!!

Babs starts crying laughing.

3K notes · View notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

how about when they first noticed ezra was a nervous and anxious baby ?

Seperation

prompt: the moment when h and yn decide that Ezra needs to see a therapist.

warnings: angst

if you like the fic - please reblog, like, comment, or come talk to me in my inbox!

I write for free so if you enjoy my fics please consider donating to support my writing on my kofi.

enjoy 😊

—

It’s late at night, like 3 in the morning, and Harry was down in Atlanta for three games with the Braves.

Easton and Cash had long adjusted to their father being away for short spurts of time - doesn’t mean they don’t miss him but they know he’ll come back to them.

Ezra was another story.

YN felt dread anytime he went away for a game because her youngest got so anxious and had trouble sleeping.

He was usually okay during the day (Harry was gone for practice and obligations during most mornings and afternoons).

It was at night time.

She really didn’t want to call and bother her husband because he had just played a game that went into three innings of overtime and had gotten a gnarly bruise on his thigh from a ball hitting him as he batted.

When they’d FaceTimed after the game, about eight, he had been so exhausted in his hotel room that his eyes were nearly closing as he spoke to her.

Now at three, three in the morning, Ezra still hasn’t went to bed because of how fussy and tearful he was - babbling about his father.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” He was whining into his mother’s neck, his hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto her skin.

“Ezzie, baby. We have to calm down. Mama’s here and daddy is okay, he’s just working,” She murmured to him for the hundredth time that night.

YN was sat in the den with him because she didn’t want him waking up his brothers or his little sister who just begun to sleep through the night for the most part.

At one point, she did stir for a night feeding, and as YN sat on her bed - Briar latched sleepily, Ezra was nestled tightly into her other side.

When it hit three-thirty, she began to feel herself get frustrated because she couldn’t fix the situation - no matter what she did.

She knew once tears began rolling down her own cheeks that she had to call Harry.

It was never that she was worried he would be mad that she called, she just felt guilty because he had worked so hard already that day.

YN reaches for her phone, taking a deep inhale before pressing his contact for facetime.

It rings three times before it’s picked up, completely dark in his room, and he rasps out drowsily, “Wha’s going on, mama? Y’alright? The babies alright?”

“I-I can’t get him to settle,” YN takes a deep breath, the sleep deprivation making her want to just break down and sob.

“Daddy? Daddy, daddy, daddy,” Ezra just chants, eyes wide on the screen, searching for his father to just appear but all he sees is darkness.

That causes him to just start bawling his eyes out when he can’t will his father onto the phone like he wants.

“Whoa, Ezzie. Sweet boy, c’mon. Y’gotta breathe s’daddy can understand you,” Harry coos, stirring to turn on the light and illuminate his pillow-creased face.

“Daddy!” His voice is shrill, high-pitched and it makes YN’s ears ring.

“Ezra Duke,” Harry says a little more firmly, “Daddy can’t understand you when you scream, okay?”

The little boy sniffles and tries to catch his breath, leaning into where YN is rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Miss you,” His son whimpers sadly, bringing his voice down a notch, “Come home, please.”

“I am flying’ home tomorrow, bab. Daddy will be home around noon but you have to be good for mama,” He says, voice still smooth and calm.

“Now!” Ezra screams in a way he usually never does and then continues, “Now! Now daddy! Now!”

Both parents are taking aback, Harry with wide eyes and parted lips as he watching his son through his phone and YN just squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling out of her mouth.

“Mama, breathe,” Harry directs towards her, can tell how overwhelmed she is getting from all the chaos of his screaming.

“Daddy, daddy,” Ezra blubbers, green eyes angry and anxious at the same time, “Please, home!”

YN hears noise from behind her, to see her eight year old padding into the room with his unruly curls poking every which way.

“Mama, is Ezzie okay?” Easton wonders, knuckling his eyes sleepily and then Cash follows right behind him in his dinosaur pajamas.

“Fuck, he woke up the boys,” YN informs Harry tearfully, “I just…I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything to make him feel better.”

The older boys peek into the screen to smile at their dad and Harry gives them a tense smile, “Hi boys, I know Ez is being loud but can y’two be good f’your mama and go back to bed?”

They agree, giving their upset brother a kiss and then their mom before talking quietly to each other as they walk up the stairs.

“Daddy? Home, please! Hold me!” Ezra wails, clinging to his mother’s neck tightly enough to hurt as he tantrums.

“This is the worst it’s ever been, he’s normally stopped before I’ve had to call you,” YN groans, rocking him swiftly against her for lack of a better idea.

“Wait…” Harry sits up, scrubbing a hand over his puffy face, “Has this been happening’ every time m’away?”

“It just started two to three months ago but he’s always been able to be calmed down within an hour or so,” YN replies, shushing Ezra as he babbles over and over again daddy, daddy, daddy.

Harry’s jaw tightens and his frown settles into a deep crease, “Well why a’ve you not told me that m’baby has been cryin’ for me when I’m gone? Do y’not think that’s important?”

YN recognizes his irritation and is running on less than five hours of sleep over two days and may he’s it back with an even sharper tone.

“We can’t change that you’re gone. I’m trying to handle it, Harry.”

“Y’not doin’ a bloody good job at it!” Harry bites back in frustration, heart pounding in desperation as he hears his son cry for him.

“Daddy, daddy, come on.”

Then YN looks at him with watering, hurt eyes, “I’m doing my best. You’re not here, I can’t make you appear. I’m trying to calm him down without having to wake you up.”

And Harry shouldn’t but he’s angry and misses his babies - all of them but especially the one who needs him the most right now.

“Y’dont think I deserve to know tha’ Ezra’s been acting like this?” Harry snaps before adding, “In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.”

And wow, those words hit her like a ton of bricks. It was instilling all the insecurities that she had bubbling in her chest.

In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.

Harry automatically knows that he spoke before he thought and he let his stressed out mind say untrue hurtful things.

He part his lips about to speak before YN cuts him off.

“If you can do it so much better than me, fucking good you. Then come home and fix this because I give up,” YN laughs without humor, finger finding the red button to hang out and disconnecting.

Harry tried calling back over and over and over but YN just hangs her head, sniffling, as she watches her tired, anxious little son finally drift off to sleep.

At some point, her phone stops ringing when he’s given up and it doesn’t ring again until for another thirty minutes.

She knew he was going to keep calling until she picked up - had been that way since they first started dating.

By now, Ezra was asleep in his room and YN was sat against their headboard - having tossed the tear soaked shirt she had on off and was feeding Briar once more.

The millionth facetime request comes through and finally she swipes to answer, he’s furious right as they connect, “D’you have any idea how worried I am? Y’cant ju-“

He stops himself when he sees his baby girl pop her head from her mother’s breast with puffy lips and look at the screen, “Dadadadada.”

“Oh, hi lil’ mama,” Harry changes his tone completely, face softening - “Did I interrupt y’eatin’? S’mama being so nice and feeding you?”

Briar just smiles with a gapped baby tooth smile, a dimple pushing into her left cheek as she does so.

“Guess I’m good for one thing, right? A fucking milk-maker,” YN scoffs at her husband’s opposite tone as she guides Briar gently back down to finish her meal.

Harry frowns, “Y’know tha’s not anything near the truth and tha’ I think you’re the best mama to our babies. M’just upset.”

“You told me my best wasn’t good enough, I can’t believe you would say something like tha’ to me,” YN begins to sniffle again.

“Sweetheart, m’sorry. I ju-“

“What did you call for, Harry? It’s nearly four-thirty in the morning and I haven’t slept for nearly two days now. I want to feed her and go to sleep,” YN’s voice is disconnected and exhausted.

“To talk, I didn’t say how I was feeling correctly-“

“When you come home tomorrow you can fix everything and I’ll let you because I’m not doing a good enough job,” His wife cuts him off again.

Harry starts to feel a ball of worry form in his throat as he hears how unemotional and distance his wife sounds with him.

He had totally said the wrong things as his wife was just trying to do her best at balancing four babies while he was away.

“Please, let me apologize-“

“I would like to go to sleep. Please don’t call back,” YN responds before ending the phone call and leaving the screen dark.

They rarely ever fought. Especially like this.

He’s man enough to admit that he cries after he tries calling back (even though she said not to) and it went straight to voicemail.

He tries facetiming in the morning, at around nine right before if flight takes off - surprised when it actually was picked up.

Harry only sees YN for a brief moment before she’s propping up the camera on the kitchen table so that Easton and Cash are in view eating pancakes and Briar is in her high chair with blueberries staining her chubby cheeks.

Ezra must still be in bed.

“Hi bubbies,” Harry greets with a smile as they’re curls shake as they look up with excited smiles.

“Daddy! You comin’ home?” Cash squeaks excitedly through a mouthful of food.

“Hi dad!” Easton chimes in, waving.

Briar is only half-interested, more taken by the fact that if she squishes the berries between her fingers they turn mushy, babbles out a, “Daddadaa.”

“I’ll be home in like three hours, ‘kay” Harry informs them - his heart aches to be there right now with theme

“Ezzie cried all night,” Cash let’s his father know.

“Mama cried too,” Easton whispers, like it’s a secret that he doesn’t want her to hear, “I think she is really sad.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, “I know. Ezzie was sad last night. Can I talk to mama?”

Easton looks to his mother off camera as she must say something to him to repeat to Harry, “Mama said that she is busy and she’ll see you when you get home.”

He clenches his fist off camera, trying to smile but he knows it’s terse as he says, “Alright, I love you all. See y’when I get home.”

Meanwhile, YN gets all the children settled after breakfast.

Easton, Cash, and Ezra in the backyard - the two older ones digging holes for bugs and the younger playing in the sandbox.

Briar was snoozing in the cradle of YN’s elbow as she sat on a chaise - watching the kids.

She hits the number she was looking for, waiting for it to ring, and then she hears, “Hillside Pediatrics, this is Jess.”

The office knew the family well because Harry is Harry Styles and they have four children who visit there.

YN inquires about therapeutic options for him, resources, and if they had any recommendations for where to take him.

Like the super mom she is, she manages to set up an intake appointment that evening (which was a miracle on its own), call Anne and ask to watch the other children, and then take a deep breathe.

Harry steps through the back door, dressed in his usual Yankees hoodie, Nike shorts, and trainers looking tanner than before.

“Hi bubbies!” He greets, basking in when all of his children look up and squeal excitedly at the sight of their father.

Easton and Cash are the fastest, racing to cling to each legs and nuzzle into his thigh with a tight hug.

Ezra is slower, by the time he’s arrived to his father - there was no room for him to shuffle in and he automatically lets out an earth-shattering wail.

Just like before.

“Daddy! Hold me! Daddy, hold me please!” His youngest son begs desperately, stretching up his arms, and letting hot tears stream down his cheeks.

Harry tuts, reaching for him and popping him on his hip but Ezra has other ideas - scrambling until his nose is pressed into the curve of Harry’s neck with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Ezzie, c’mon now,” Harry titters softly, reaching down to give both of his other boys a kiss on the head before they dart back off to play.

“Daddy, miss you,” Ezra blubbers sadly, Harry wincing when his son yanks a bit in his longer curls by the nape of his neck.

“Y’okay, daddy’s got you. Relax, breathe bubba,” His father reassured him, swaying softly back and forth until he’s just sniffing.

“We have an appointment with a children’s play therapist for him later at five,” YN tells him, shushing Briar who’s squeaking from the noise.

Harry takes a deep inhale, “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Can we talk now since y’been ignoring my calls?”

YN bristles at the attitude in his tone, “Excuse me if I’d rather not be critiqued on my skills as a mother when I am sleep-deprived and stressed out.”

He clenches his jaw, speaking lowly with firmness, “Y’bein’ absurd! I didn’t critique to you, y’blowing things out of proportion! Y’the one who didn’t tell me this was going on!”

“It didn’t get that bad until last night! I could handle it - he would just be upset for a little before bed but he’d never got that anxious before,” She justifies, returning the glare he’s giving her.

“Didn’t think y’could mentioned it to me? I have a right to know, he’s m’baby too. I could have fix this yet you were letting him suffer,” Harry bites out but know as soon as it’s out of his mouth that he wishes he could swallow the words back down.

You were letting him suffer.

YN doesn’t even argue back, just starts bawling because of how hurtful those words were and how could he even say that?

“Mama, fuck- I didn’t, I’m just-“

His wife gets up without a word, using Briar’s blanket to wipe at her wet cheeks, and vanishing through the sliding back doors.

Ezra was snoozing peacefully on him and he couldn’t leave the boys outside alone so he resorts to sitting down on one of the outdoor couches and curse internally.

He couldn’t believe he was being so cruel. He just felt so….betrayed that she hadn’t told him what had been going on and he felt like he was letting down Ezra.

It was a nasty feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach because he was away so much from his family and it was stressful for everyone.

He wanted to cry at the idea of his son crying for him every night.

Harry starts to get anxious when YN isolates herself in their bedroom with Briar for the next upcoming hours.

He knocks softly, opening the door to YN turned on her side away from him, under the covers, with Briar asleep in her bassinet asleep.

“Mama? Y’awake?” Harry murmurs cautiously with a sandwich and chips since she’d disappeared and hadn’t been down once, water in the other hand.

“Are the boys okay?” YN asks quietly, not bothering to turn over to face him.

“Yes, babies are fine. They’re watchin’ Toy Story right now, eatin’ lunch,” Harry replies, eyes falling in his beautiful little daughter.

“If the boys are fine then I don’t want you in here,” YN tells him with an angry tone but low enough that it won’t disturb Briar.

Harry nearly whimpers.

“Baby, please. We need to talk-“

“If the boys are fine, I want you to leave me alone.”

Harry hesitates by the door, feeling helpless as he slips the plate onto the dresser in case she is hungry but he doubts she’ll touch it.

“Alright, I’ll leave y’be. Call me if y’need anythin’ or help with Briar,” He offers, trying to buy time in the room.

She laughs sarcastically, “Yeah, I’ll make sure you’re notified because I can’t do a good enough job myself.”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to conjure up the perfect words to fix this situation but it’s interrupted.

“Daddy? Daddy? Where? Hold me!” Ezra screeches as Easton stands outside the door with him, holding his hand.

“Dad, he won’t stop,” The oldest complains with annoyance as Ezra scurries to his father and up into his arms.

“Daddy daddy,” He chants into his father’s skin with relief.

“Thank y’East, Ezzie’s been sad lately. Huh?” Harry replies, thumbing at Easton’s cheek.

The oldest shrugs, “Not always. Mama cheers him up all the time with kisses and hugs.”

Harry gazes back to the lump under the blankets and feels himself getting choked up. He really really regretted his words.

He didn’t regret being upset with her. He regrets the cheap shots he took at his wife who’s just trying to be a full time mom to his babies.

“Mama?” Ezra squeaks at the word, realizing he hasn’t seen her recently and then he’s back to tantruming, “Mama, mama, mama. Where’s mama?”

“M’right here, Ez,” YN murmurs, flipping to her other side so that her youngest could see her. His face lights up and he scurries to the bed, scampering up until his mom is tucking him under the blankets with her.

Harry’s heart aches when Ezra whimpers quietly and burrows into her warm chest with happiness that he found his mother.

“Y’got him?” Harry asks, hand raking through Easton’s curls as he leans into his father’s side.

“Can we go play now, dad?” Easton asks impatiently, tugging his father out of the room and down the staircase.

Anne shows up and the two older ones are so excited, bouncing up and down as they tug her into the backyard to show her the holes they dug with Briar popped on her hip - gnawing on her shirt collar.

YN brings Ezra down the stairs, curls tamed with a bit styling mousse and a little adias x disney outfit that was the cutest thing ever. ***

Harry reaches out to take Ezra off YN but he whines and shakes his head, clinging to his mother like it was life or death.

“No daddy! Mama!” Ezra pouts angrily, glaring at his father with protectiveness.

He puts his hands up, “Okay, okay. Y’can stay with y’mama.”

The car ride is silent, Harry doesn’t know what to say and YN isn’t giving him anything to work with. He feels like he’ll just say the wrong thing again.

When they pull up to the building and Harry puts it in park, he’s startled when his wife just starts bawling into her hands.

Harry freezes for a second with wide eyes before rumbling, “Mama, sweetheart. Please don’t cry, it breaks m’heart, darlin’.”

“I’m…I’m no-not a good mom,” YN cries, “I wanted to tell you but I was scared. I don’t want you to think I can’t handle raising our babies.”

Harry pries her hands away from her face, cupping her cheeks and firmly staring, full conviction in his voice, “If I didn’t think y’could handle four babies then I wouldn’t have put them in you. I wouldn’t talk about putting more in you.”

YN’s eyes are watering, letting Harry swipe the tears away with his thumbs as she inhales deeply, “I am so so sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you to worry when you’re away.”

Harry leans forward, kissing her harshly before whispering against her lips, “I don’t give a fuck about baseball in comparison to you and the kids. I’d give it up this second if y’asked. I want to worry because you’re the love of m’life and I’m y’husband - I’m here to support you and support our family.”

He continues, “I am a bit frustrated with you. I want you to tell me everything I miss when I’m gone even if it stresses me out or upsets me. Okay? But I shouldn’t have said hurtful things. You’re the best mama on this planet and y’treat our babies the best.”

YN nods, willing herself to stop crying as their appointment starts in ten minutes as she takes steady breathes.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way. I just…I feel like you do everything for us and the least I could do is manage the kids,” She sighs with self-deprecation.

“Mama, just because one of our bubs needs therapy doesn’t mean you’re not doing a perfect job. We’ve always know Ezzie was an anxious baby. This is going to be good for him and for us, right?” He encourages, nosing at her cheek before she offers up her lips once more for a short kiss.

“I love you,” YN tells him, running a thumb of a light dusting of stubble on his jawline.

“Love y’more than anything,” He replies instantly.

Ezra is nervous as they step into the calming, peaceful office where there are neatly organized buckets of toys and shelves of books.

Patricia was a middle-aged woman with a kind smile who welcomed them in, she observed how Ezra had himself wrapped around his dad with hesitant green eyes peeking at her.

As they sit down, Patricia says softly, “This must be Ezra?”

They all wait for a moment before the toddler turns around to look at the woman and says timidly, “m’Ezzie.”

“Hi Ezzie,” The therapist greets and he gives her a cautious smile before nuzzling back into his father’s neck.

The discuss what has been going on. How Ezra has always been very nervous, anxious, cautious in a way that none of his other siblings are.

How he struggles when one of his parents is away from him, how he can get upset if he can’t find one of his siblings, or how much he worries about things most kids his age don’t worry about.

Patricia does an excellent job in calming down the parents, assuring them that it was nothing out of the norm, and that therapy would be beneficial for him.

She states that they’ll work a lot of feelings - being able to describe and recognize them. That will be one of the most important things.

Also working on his ability to calm down and cope with stressful situations, recommending once a week which of course his parents agreed to.

By the end of the intake, Ezra had ventured to take one of the baby dolls from a bin and bring it back to his father.

“Look daddy, s’a baby,” He lisps proudly, holding it up to show him.

“Good job, bubs,” Harry laughs, leaning to kiss his forehead - watching him toddle off to find more dolls to play with.

That night, after all the kids go to bed, and YN is finishing her final feeding with Briar in her nursery before putting in her crib.

Harry runs a nice, steaming bath with lavender bubbles and a candle burning with the lights dimmed low.

When she finds him, he slowly undresses her with warm kisses and praises of how good of a wife and mother she is.

They lay in there together, YN between his legs with her head rested on his chest, as his hands massage at her tummy and hips lovingly.

And yeah, everything is okay after that.

They get up the next day and everything is back to normal except now Ezra goes to therapy once a week with his parents.

(Ezra ends up working with Patricia until he’s in about sixth grade.)

2K notes · View notes

silverwhittlingknife · 2 years

Text

only you will have stars that can laugh

Robin!Tim is alone for Christmas. Dick finds out, and fixes it.

Also featuring: a Christmas party for loners, Tim's empty house, found family, snow in Blüdhaven, and the meaning of Robin.

Also posted on ao3. All thanks and kudos to my marvelous beta @bitimdrake, whose fics you should read.

* *

It’s Christmas Eve, and for the first time in a long while, Dick has plans that aren’t “mope privately and hope no one notices.” He has good plans, even. He’s heading to Gotham for a party at the Clocktower. A Christmas party for loners, Babs said when she invited him. Read: this is not a date, Grayson, so don’t get your hopes up.

Which is fine. Dick can roll with that. Babs is a friend. If she wants to just be friends, they can be friends and he can value that. He’s not gonna push, and he’s not gonna get ahead of himself. He’s trying not to, anyway. The thing is. He likes to think he can tell the difference between I’m not interested and I’m interested but I have to think about it first.

And Babs? Right now? Is a whole lot of the second one

Bruce is gonna be off-world with the JLA, but Babs invited Alfred. To be honest, Dick’s kind of relieved Bruce is off-world. Everything’s patched up, in theory anyway, so if Bruce were here Dick would probably be invited to Christmas—at the very least by Alfred—and then he’d have to decide whether to go or not, and…

It’s just easier this way. He hasn’t spent Christmas at the Manor since everything went south with Bruce. It’d be awkward.

(He can’t stop wondering if he would’ve been invited. Probably, right? You’re better than me, Dick. That’s surely worth a Christmas invitation?)

* *

It’s around five, which is too early to leave Blüdhaven. Babs said six-ish, and discretion, better part of valor, prove you can be patient, etcetera, so he’s gonna wait until—oh, six-fifteen or so.

There’s something about Barbara Gordon that makes him feel like an overeager kid again. But it’s fun, actually. It’s a novelty, not being the leader. He can’t lose Babs’s respect ‘cause—heh—he’s never had it. Batgirl may have thought Robin was a goofball, and Oracle may be fondly unimpressed with Nightwing, but Dick Grayson still got a Christmas Eve invite.

Not a Christmas Day invite, but that’s okay. On Christmas Day, Dick will—mope, probably. But tomorrow is not gonna ruin tonight. Tonight, he is determined to enjoy himself.

* *

Phone buzzes. He checks—please let her not be canceling—but no, it’s a text from Tim.

Tim: do you have plans for christmas?

Dick: going to a party tonight!

There’s a weirdly long silence before the response.

Tim: cool! have fun

There’s something pinging in the back of his mind—Tim, Christmas Eve—

—shit, Christmas Eve is the day Tim’s mom was buried.

His good mood takes a dive.

Dick: you doing okay?

Tim: ?

Maybe it’s a faux-pas to bring it up? He knows he didn’t misremember. Dick’s not great with dates, but the funeral was—memorable.

Strange to think it was only a year ago. So much has changed. The awkward funeral, things on the verge of imploding with the Titans. And now: new city, about to have a new job. New beginnings all over the place. He almost wishes he could go back to the person he was—hell, even a few months ago—and say, look, don’t worry, it’ll be okay.

None of that helps him with Tim, though. There’s no tactful way to say sorry about your dead mom over text.

He calls.

“Hey,” Tim says. “So, a party, huh?”

“That’s the idea,” Dick says. Hmm. Maybe better to keep it light, actually. He doesn’t want to pry, and at least Tim sounds fine, which is reassuring. He wonders if the Drakes went to the cemetery earlier, if they leave roses the way Bruce does for his parents, the way Dick does for his. But it’s none of his business, actually. “You’re with your dad, huh?” he says.

“Yeah. Um. He’s with Dana right now. I mean, they’re not home. They’re coming back later.”

Ah. The new girlfriend. Awkward.

He feels a pinch of sympathy. Tim’s said nothing but polite things about Dana, but no matter how nice she is, the anniversary of the wife’s death must be tricky.

Actually, though, wait—morbid thought though this is—Janet Drake didn’t actually die on Christmas Eve. The death must’ve been, what, at least a week before the funeral? Maybe Tim’s not even thinking about it.

Dick should ask Alfred about the timing of everything, find out for next year. A little intrusive, maybe, but…it’d be good to know.

“So they’ve gone out to dinner, huh?” Dick says, more to fill the silence than anything else.

“Um, yeah, kinda.”

Upper-crust Gotham is so strange. Out for Christmas Eve dinner without the kid?

But then again, maybe it’s Dick’s expectations that are off. The circus was close-knit by preference and necessity: the Graysons would no sooner have left Dick alone for dinner on Christmas Eve than they’d have flown to the moon. And though Bruce is distant in his own way, being Batman and Robin was a similar kind of gig. They might’ve spent Christmas Eve on patrol a few times, but when Dick was a kid, they always spent it together.

(Some pretty good memories, actually. Don’t think about it.)

Maybe the Drakes are the normal ones and it’s Dick’s family—families?—that are weird.

“Anyway,” Tim says. “I’m gonna watch TV or something.” His voice turns annoyingly knowing. “So. Your party. With Babs or with your landlady?”

Ooh, brat. “Just for that I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll deduce,” Tim says. “Wait, it’s not with Huntress, though, is it? ‘Cause I really do think that’s a bad idea.”

He’s being fussed over by a teenager with a pregnant girlfriend. “It’s not with Helena. She dumped me, remember?”

“Sorry,” Tim says, managing to sound halfway sympathetic.

“Nice try.” He checks the forecast: snow flurries. Maybe better to head to Gotham sooner rather than later. “Hey, I gotta go, but—you have a good evening, yeah? Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah! You too.”

They hang up.

* *

Train over to Gotham.

Flipping around on the rooftops. Maybe showing off a bit for Oracle’s cameras. She’ll roll her eyes, but she’ll think it’s funny.

Buying eggnog. The cashier does a hilarious double-take at the Nightwing costume.

Arriving at the Clocktower street entrance, ringing the doorbell, stamping the snow off his feet.

(Tim, parents out to dinner, alone on Christmas Eve.)

* *

“The cookies are burnt,” Babs greets him, rueful. There’s a blast of warm air from inside.

“It’s okay, I brought eggnog,” Dick says. He closes the outer door behind him, and they’re standing in the hallway, and he meant to lead up to this, but what comes out of his mouth is: “Hey. I was thinking. You mind if we invite Robin?”

Surprise on Babs’s face before she smooths it away. “Of course not,” she says. “The more, the merrier.”

Babs’s mind is like Tim’s: a steel trap, inescapable. He can see her tucking away the knowledge, probably coming to the wrong conclusions about why the new Robin might want company on Christmas Eve. Bruce does have an orphan habit.

Or maybe she already knows Tim’s identity. Babs is so discreet it’s hard to tell. It wouldn’t be hard for her to figure out if she poked around, and Dick’s honestly been a bit surprised that she hasn’t pushed him for details. But then, maybe it’s not that surprising. Babs cares, a lot, about privacy. He knows she resented it when Dick and Bruce unmasked her, way back when. And she knows that Tim—that Robin—isn’t comfortable telling her yet. Maybe that’s enough for her.

“I don’t have a phone number for him,” Babs says, too neutral, and okay, maybe she’s a bit curious.

There’s no way Tim just sat around the empty house. “He’ll be on comms.” Oh, hey, there’s an idea. “Tell him it’s an emergency.”

Babs’s eyebrows are up. “Really.”

“It’s a Christmas emergency,” Dick says, grinning. Now that he’s made the decision to ask, he feels a lot lighter. “I have an urgent need for both my favorite computer nerds.”

That gets him a smile, though she’s biting it back. “Your call, Man Wonder. But if it goes sideways, I’m blaming you. Come on up.”

* *

Elevator up to her place, and—

Alfred.

Alfred, in the kitchen, frowning down at the burnt Christmas cookies, carefully anointing each one with icing. It could be years ago, with little-kid Dick’s burnt cookies, and a Christmas in the Manor, and—

He blinks the memories away. Not stately Wayne Manor, but Babs’s cramped and boxy little place, full of sharp angles, covered with computer wires. Babs doesn’t like big open spaces anymore, not since the gun.

“Hey,” he says, and has to clear his throat. “Hey, Alfie.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred says, warm.

* *

“I am afraid these cookies may be unsalvageable,” Alfred is saying.

“We’ll have Robin eat them,” Dick says. Tim will eat anything.

“An excellent solution. Though I believe the young man is unavailable at the moment.”

Dick will see about that. He taps a few keys on Babs’s computer, and—yep, Tim’s online. Called it. He types Robin, need your help urgently at the Clocktower, and hesitates. It’ll freak Tim out, and it doesn’t give him the option of saying no, which is maybe a little presumptuous, but…

Nah.

He signs Oracle, and then hits the enter key.

“He won’t fall for it,” Babs says over his shoulder. “I never sign my name.”

“He’ll fall for it,” Dick says.

Tim’s a great detective—with strangers.

* *

Robin arrives in full gear with batarangs.

“Told you he’d fall for it,” Dick says.

“Huh?” Tim says. He’s staring at the tree, the gathering, the costumes. He’s such a kid sometimes. He looks totally baffled. Boy detective, hah.

“It’s a Christmas party for loners,” Babs says.

“Babs burnt the cookies,” Dick says, “but the eggnog’s good.” Babs elbows him for that. And Tim does still look a little stunned, so he adds, “We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s okay,” Tim says. At first Dick’s not sure if it is, but then the confusion drops off Tim’s face and he’s honest-to-God beaming, big bright smile. “It’s really okay.”

Good.

* *

It’s a good party. A great party, even. It’s a little awkward—they all know each other, obviously, but they’ve never all socialized together. It’s strange and a little bittersweet to have Alfred hovering around, out of his element, no Bruce. And it’s obvious that Tim and Babs—Robin and Babs, he has to watch himself—have only ever interacted while teaming up on projects. Tim offers to wipe the table, and then to wash the dishes, and generally gets underfoot trying to assign himself projects until Babs snaps at him to cut it out.

“Sorry! I, uh. I just want to help?”

“You can help by sitting and by eating the food,” Babs snaps, and then winces. “Or not eating. I can’t vouch for the food. It’s up to you.”

“It’s good,” Tim says loyally, but he has in fact been nibbling rather than devouring, which means his taste buds aren’t completely haywire.

Babs frowns. “Really?”

“Robin’s just a suck-up,” Dick says cheerfully. Tim sticks out his tongue. “Hey, watch it. You’re still not too big to spank.”

“I’m not a suck-up,” Tim says.

“He just has manners,” Babs says. Ooh, betrayal. But she’s teasing, too. “Hey, Robin, you know how many thank you notes this fellow wrote me? None, that’s how many.”

“The pleasure of my delightful company wasn’t enough?” Dick says.

“No,” Babs says.

Dick mimes clutching his heart. Also, hang on. “Wait, did you get thank you notes, too?”

“Wait,” Babs says. “He wrote them to you too?”

Tim’s ears turn red.

Best Christmas party ever.

* *

Alfred goes home early, and then it’s Dick and Tim and Babs for a while. Dick and Babs drink a little wine, after Alfred goes. Babs is wearing a Christmas sweater, and it brings out her eyes. He keeps catching himself staring, having to look away. Tim’s here, he reminds himself. But maybe, after Tim leaves—?

Actually, hmm. It’s nearly ten.

Reality interrupts the romantic daydream. Tim probably needs to get home. His parents’ dinner can’t have lasted that late. Tim must’ve forgotten. Uh oh.

He has two options here.

Option one, the tempting one: hint that Tim should go home, as casually as he can without leaving too many breadcrumbs for Babs. Risk accidentally hurting Tim’s feelings. Risk giving something away to Babs. Hopefully have a bit of one-on-one time with Babs after.

Option two, the responsible one: head home himself and scoop Tim along.

Well. There will be other days, other chances, with Babs. And maybe he shouldn’t push his luck, anyway.

Dick makes a show of stretching. “I should probably head back. Robin, want to head out together? It’s getting kinda late.”

He sees Babs register that clue, too, realizing Dick knows where Robin lives: nothing obvious, just a slight narrowing of her eyes. There’s not much point trying to keep secrets from Oracle, but it is kinda fun to watch her work. If this goes on long enough, she’ll figure it out whether she’s trying or not.

“Oh,” Tim says. “Yeah, I didn’t realize—yeah. Um. Thanks for the party. And the cookies.”

Dick thinks about Babs quietly inviting Alfred so that Dick wouldn’t have to agonize over it, Babs going along with inviting Tim. Babs letting them all into the personal space that she’s so protective of.

“He’s right,” Dick says, clearing his throat. “Really, thanks. This was great.”

“No problem, Boy Wonders,” Babs says.

* *

Tim’s place isn’t that far away, and—okay, so maybe Dick would like to just glance over at the Manor, see the lights that mean Alfred’s arrived safe.

“Walk you home?” he suggests to Tim.

Of course, they don’t actually walk.

* *

Nightwing and Robin get to Bristol and stop on the roof of Tim’s house. Wayne Manor’s only a smudge in the distance, but it does have some lights on, which means Alfred’s probably staying up cleaning, keeping himself busy until Bruce is back. It would be easy to spend the night, if Dick wanted. But—

No.

Tim’s house, on the other hand, is still dark. Still not back? That’s a little worrisome. He knows Babs was monitoring the police broadcasts, it’s not likely that anything happened, but— “Do you think they’ve gone to bed early?”

“No, they’re, um,” Tim says. “They’re in Chicago, actually.”

Dick doesn’t lose his balance. “Sorry, they’re what?”

Tim looks uncomfortable. “They were gonna fly back this evening, but they got snowed in, and…yeah. My dad left a message. They think tomorrow afternoon, maybe.” Tim nudges a loose tile with his foot.

Chicago, fly back, do you have Christmas plans.

What the hell.

“They went on a Christmas vacation without you?” Dick says.

Tim bristles. “It’s not a Christmas vacation, it’s an archeology conference. And then they stayed in Chicago a bit. Dana wanted to visit her relatives there.”

Yeah, you know what, screw giving the Drakes the benefit of the doubt. “It’s gonna be Christmas in two hours, Tim. Pretty sure that’s a Christmas vacation.”

He remembers, suddenly, when he was sixteen, that year when Bruce was pissed for whatever reason he was pissed that month and swung out of town abruptly the week after Christmas. And after chewing Dick out for spending time with his friends.

“It’s not like that,” Tim mutters. “Cut it out already. I don’t need supervision. I’m not a kid.”

Tim is the most grown-up kid that Dick has ever met, but that’s not the point. “Tim, it’s not about supervision, it’s—”

“No one asked you!”

The outburst cracks between them, and Dick freezes. Tim looks a little guilty, but he doesn’t take it back. He’s still flushed, still upset.

Ow.

But—okay. It isn’t Dick’s business. This is Tim’s family, not Dick’s. Dick’s just a—

A what? A busybody. A judgmental stranger. They fight crime together, but that doesn’t mean he gets a say on Tim’s personal life. Maybe he is overstepping. He bites his tongue, tastes blood.

“It’s not like it even matters,” Tim says, a bit too forcefully. “And they’ll be back tomorrow. And I can handle myself.”

That’s not the point. But there’s no point in pressing him on it. Dick and Tim haven’t talked about Jack Drake much—Tim doesn’t talk about his civilian life much, in general—but they’ve talked enough for Dick to get the contours: Tim alternates between sullen resentment of his dad and stubborn defensiveness.

It’s a dance that Dick understands a little too intimately.

“Anyway,” Tim says. “I, um. I’ll just…”

Leaving Tim alone in his dark house on Christmas Eve doesn’t feel right. The ghosts of unhappy Christmases past don’t help. And it’s not the same, Tim’s not the same, and Dick’s probably half-projecting, but…he still doesn’t like it, Tim going back to an empty house.

“Can I come in?” he asks, before he can think better of it.

“I don’t think…” Tim says, and then his brow furrows, like the possibilities are just now occurring to him, too. “Yeah. No one’s home so…yeah. I guess you can?”

“Do you mind?” Dick checks.

He can at least make sure the room is warm, that Tim has food, that there are no other shadows lurking around this house. Tim’s capable and he’s smart, and Bruce and Alfred have both looked into the family without finding anything actionable, and anyway Tim would say something if something was really wrong, but…

“Sure,” Tim says. “I mean. Yeah. You can come in.”

* *

They go in through Tim’s window, which has a slippery catch that Tim handles easily—well, of course he does, Grayson, he lives here.

Getting into the house is physically easy. It still feels like crossing a boundary. Dick likes to think he’s gotten to know Tim pretty well, over these many months, but Tim’s civilian life has stayed behind a blank wall. Tim’s been in the Manor, in Dick’s apartments, he’s threaded all through Dick’s life, but Dick doesn’t know him in the same way.

And that’s not just about the circumstances. Tim’s cagey about his family. About his personal life in general. And Tim’s entitled to his privacy, and maybe it’s a bit intrusive, but…Dick would like to know more. Sue him: detective. Not knowing things, especially big things, puts an itch under his skin.

It’s probably fine, but.

He’d just like to know a bit more.

* *

The first thing he learns is reassuring: the house is warm. The heating’s on and working fine.

The second thing he learns is that Tim lives like a pig.

“This is your room?” Dick says.

“You can’t judge me,” Tim says, though he does look a bit embarrassed. “You keep your stuff in cardboard boxes.”

Dick nudges a floppy stack of papers. “Comic books, really?” And—no way. Tim’s got a music video paused on the computer screen. “Enya?”

Tim looks like he’s regretting everything. “Why don’t we go downstairs? And, um, we could get something to drink? I think we’ve got more eggnog. Or…”

Robin and Nightwing look at each other. They’re both in costume.

“Don’t you have a housekeeper?” Dick checks.

“She’s in Ireland. With her family, for the holidays, you know? Nobody’s gonna come in.” But Tim must have the same superstitious feeling, because he adds, “You don’t have any, like. Normal clothes with you, do you?”

He realizes he does—the just-in-case Babs wants to do something in-person afterwards clothes, under the uniform. “I do, actually. Hang on.”

Changing is quick, and then the costumes go in Tim’s closet, and then it’s just—

Dick Grayson and Tim Drake.

In Tim’s house.

This is so weird. It ought to be normal, which is the weirdest thing about it. Tim’s over in Blüdhaven practically every other week. He is, in fact, over so often that Clancy’s under the impression that he’s Dick’s actual kid brother. Dick knows what Tim does when he’s bored on a transatlantic flight and what he looks like when he thinks he’s dying. Tim has opinions about Dick’s old couch versus his new couch, and on all his favorite movies, and on his pizza preferences.

Last month Dick dragged him out of a firefight and took him home and pushed his guts back into his stomach and patched him up and then they watched TV.

But he’s never been in Tim’s house before.

Tim shifts a little, shrugging away the invisible tension. “C’mon,” Tim says. “I might as well give you the grand tour.”

“Lead on, Macduff,” Dick says.

He mentally apologizes to an imaginary, scandalized Alfred for the misquotation.

* *

Tim’s house is big. Not nearly as big as the Manor—hardly anything is—but it’s still enormous. Tim pads down the enormous staircase, and Dick follows him and tries not to feel too self-conscious. What the hell does Tim see in Dick’s apartment, that he’s over all the time? Tim’s not snobbish, but still. Money does buy comfort. There’s a reason why Dick hasn’t invited Alfred over to his place.

“I think we’ve got eggnog in the kitchen!” Tim calls over his shoulder. “Over here.”

Dick doesn’t really feel like more, but why not. “Let’s do it,” he says aloud.

It’s habit to scan the area. Christmas tree lights winking around the corner in what must be the living room—no doubt decorated by the housekeeper, if Tim’s dad is out of town.

Enormous kitchen. Marble countertops. Stainless steel everything. He forgets, sometimes, about Tim’s wealth. No Wayne Manor, but it’s formidable all the same.

Well-stocked fridge when Tim opened it, but all packaged, reheatable meals: that must be the absent housekeeper’s doing. An archeology conference wouldn’t be held during the holidays, so if Tim was telling the truth, Jack Drake and his girlfriend have been gone for at least a week.

But Tim obviously has food. He’s fine. Objectively, Dick is being stupid. If Robin can patrol Gotham and fight crime, he’s gonna be fine sleeping in an empty house in Bristol. It’s not like Tim’s in danger.

“Do you want, um,” Tim says. “Sorry, I forgot, I think I drank it all. We’ve got beer and wine. I guess you’re sick of beer, huh?”

There’s nothing like working full-time at a bar to really sour you on the smell of beer, yeah. “Just Zesti’s fine.”

Tim winces. “Sorry. We don’t have any.”

Huh. Dick was banking on that being the easy thing. “You drank all of those, too, huh?”

“My dad doesn’t like them,” Tim says, looking back in the fridge.

So the sodas Tim drinks whenever he comes over are a special treat, not one of Tim’s everyday things. Interesting. Maybe his dad’s diet-conscious; Dick vaguely remembers Tim saying something about a home gym.

“If you don’t want wine, we’ve got, um, vegetable juice,” Tim says. “Um. Do you like red wine or white wine?”

There is no way Dick’s gonna drink Tim’s absent parents’ no-doubt-very-expensive wine. On top of everything else, he doesn’t particularly like the idea of owing Jack Drake anything.

“Just water,” he says aloud.

“My dad won’t care,” Tim says, doing his mind-reading trick. “He won’t even notice. He brings the bottles back from Europe to give as gifts to people. You can have one if you want.”

“I’m not much of a drinker,” Dick says, and can’t help adding, “Is your dad gonna bring back wine from Chicago, too?”

He regrets it when Tim stiffens. Shit.

“You don’t know anything about my dad,” Tim says. His face is unreadable, his tone is even, but his knuckles are white next to the fridge handle.

“Hey,” Dick says. “I’m sorry.” Realizes he is. It’s not like people giving him a hard time about Bruce have ever helped anything. “I’m not mad at you.” He raises his hands: look, I surrender. “And I’m not mad at your dad, okay? It just…it sucks that you got stuck here alone. That’s all I was thinking.”

It works; Tim makes a face. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you either.”

Tim pours glasses of water for them both and perches on a stool next to the kitchen island. They drink in silence. Dick stays standing, trying to resist the urge to—he doesn’t know what. Swing himself up on the countertops. The place is intimidatingly spotless. It’s more disconcerting than it should be. It takes him back to those first months in the Manor, feeling desperately out-of-place in Bruce’s world.

Tim’s eying him. Why is this so awkward.

He wishes they were in Blüdhaven. Forget sniffing out more details about Tim’s regular life—he’s ready for a night in and maybe a dumb Christmas movie and some of his own food. And a little brother that he can pretend belongs to him, instead of to this empty house.

…Actually, hang on.

“Your folks aren’t back until tomorrow afternoon, right?” Dick checks.

“The snow—” Tim begins.

“No, I get it, that sucks. Why don’t you come back to Blüdhaven with me? We could do a quick patrol. And you could stay over after.”

God, the look on Tim’s face. “Really?” he says, too fast, and then, flushing, “You don’t mind?”

You coming over is possibly the only thing that’s gonna stop me from wanting to punch your dad in the face, Dick doesn’t say.

My current Christmas Day plans are 1) pace around at home, and 2) try not to obsess about what Bruce is up to, so trust me, you’ll be an improvement, Dick doesn’t say.

He keeps his mouth shut. He is self-aware. Dick may be a mess, but he’s at least in control enough not to dump all his issues on a fourteen-year-old. Tim signed up to help them with crimefighting, not to be Dick’s emotional crutch.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he says aloud.

* *

Train to Blüdhaven, and they swing by the Zee Mores and help a couple lost souls find homeless shelters. In one alleyway, Dick watches Tim talk a runaway teenager out of her hiding place, patient and steady. You can trust us. I promise, nobody’s gonna hurt you. You’re just scared, right? Tim’s textbook-perfect at this kind of stuff: the runaways and the suicide risks, the drunks and the addicts. Earnest and reassuring. Like an after-school special.

It’s a funny out-of-body experience, watching Tim talk down strangers. His technique’s gotten a lot better since he was thirteen and facing down a grim-faced Bruce, but—well, it’s the same kind of thing, isn’t it? Tim cares so intensely. The full force of Tim Drake’s concern is like a tidal wave, impossible to resist.

Dick wishes this was the sort of thing he could brag to Clancy about: you should’ve seen him, Clance, she drew the knife and he didn’t even raise his voice.

Dick takes over once the girl’s a bit calmer, less likely to bolt. She nods shakily. She looks like she could do with some physical comfort, so Dick opens his arms just enough, an invitation, and—

Yeah. A crying girl with ratty hair in his arms. Robin puts a hand on her back, and that just makes her cry harder. Hasn’t had a home in a while, this girl.

In the end they take her to a shelter Dick knows, and some people he trusts, and stick around long enough to make sure it works out.

It’s a hard night, but it feels good. He thinks about Tim a year ago, back in NYC, simple and stubborn when Dick teased him about the overgrown boy scout act: I like helping people.

Dick likes helping people, too.

* *

Back to the apartment, past midnight, and their snow-dusted costumes leave little puddles on the floor. Dick’s gotten into the habit of keeping a spare change of clothes for Tim so he won’t have to bring it over in a backpack, but the only thing he’s got right now is jeans and a T-shirt. Not ideal while it’s still freezing. So Nightwing turns into Dick Grayson, but Tim stays Robin for now, taking advantage of the suit’s thermals. Dick cranks up the heat while they dry out from the flurries of snow.

“What do you want to—to watch?” Dick asks, yawning.

“It’s a Wonderful Life,” Tim says promptly. “And, uh. Can we make apple cobbler? Or roasted potatoes?”

Okay, that’s hyper-specific. “Sure? Do you know how?”

“Ye-es,” Tim says. “I think so.”

Dick assembles his best stab at ingredients, and Tim frowns down at them like he’s gonna march into battle. “I can do the potatoes,” Dick volunteers. “I think for apple cobbler you just need—” Hmm. What do you need? “I’ve got apples and sugar and cinnamon.”

Tim’s looking up a recipe on his phone. “Yeah,” he says. “And I need a pan, I think?”

“You think?”

“Shut up,” Tim says. “Okay. I’m ready now.”

This will be either very good or very bad.

* *

Both the potatoes and the cobbler turn out fine, actually, though it might just be that Dick missed dinner and isn’t feeling picky.

“They shoot, they score,” Dick says, and offers Tim a high-five. Tim matches it without taking his eyes off his food.

It’s not exactly, Dick thinks, that they’re learning each other’s rhythms. They’re creating a rhythm that’s all their own.

* *

The heat is still not working well, so Dick digs a few blankets out of one of his cardboard boxes. Tim’s sardonic about the cardboard boxes, so Dick throws a blanket over his head and holds it there until he surrenders, and then they watch TV. It’s a Wonderful Life is showing on half a dozen channels.

Tim toes off the Robin boots so he can put his feet on the couch, and curls under Dick’s blanket. He’s still got the mask on, which makes an odd picture. Robin’s serious young face and the top of Robin’s cape and green shoulders, and then the blanket.

Tim looks like such a kid, sometimes. Messy kid with a messy room. Dick’s having one of those moments where it feels surreal, to think this is the kid he fights crime with. Tim ought to be burning out his brain cells on a Playstation, or hanging out with girls at the mall. Anything but sparring with nutjobs from Arkham.

What’s in it for him? Why does he keep doing it? Should they even be letting him? Batman needs Robin, Gotham needs Robin, I need Robin, Tim told him, a few weeks back, when they talked about it. But it still feels like Tim gives them so much more than they give in return.

The apple cobbler, though. A weird late-night craving. But at least Dick’s given him something for Christmas.

* *

“So,” Dick asks eventually, during a commercial break. “Is apple cobbler a Christmas thing, for you?”

“It’s just, like. A holiday thing,” Tim says, not looking at him. “I haven’t had it in ages.”

“Your housekeeper got bored with making it?”

“No.” Tim fiddles with the blanket. “We just haven’t had it in a while.”

“I guess she probably did a better job that we did,” Dick guesses.

“Not Mrs. Mac. It was, um. My mom. She used to—she used to bake them.”

Dick doesn’t move. Barely breathes. He has half a plate of cobbler in front of him, and the remains of a potato, and a mystery with pieces that are snapping together. So this is the secret point of the food. Probably also the movie.

“Lamb and roast potatoes and apple cobbler,” Tim says. “It was, like. It was her big meal that she’d do. For special occasions, you know?”

Dick has questions, but he waits.

The trick with Tim, he’s learned, is that you’ve got to wait. He wants to talk, he’s just no good at it. But if you wait him out, he’ll get there.

He listens to the creaking of the radiator, and watches the faint specks of snow hitting his window, and tightens his grip, very lightly, on Tim’s shoulder.

He waits.

“She liked apples,” Tim says at last.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She didn’t like cooking much. She could do it, but she thought my dad… They fought a lot, you know? She wanted him to cook more. We didn’t have Mrs. Mac then. And my dad, he wanted her to be more…this is gonna sound bad, but my dad’s kinda…traditional?”

Dick’s pretty sure the word Tim’s avoiding is sexist, but if Tim doesn’t want to say it, Dick won’t. And to be fair, Dick doesn’t actually know Jack Drake. Coupled up within a year with his much-younger physical therapist is…a choice, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

“And my mom, she’d get mad at him. So then she didn’t want to cook, and she wanted him to take more responsibility for…things. That he thought were her job.”

“People fight sometimes,” Dick says, trying to figure out what Tim needs to hear. “It doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.”

“They were gonna get a divorce. I think.”

Oops. Okay, change direction. I’m sure they both loved you? I’m sure your mom loved you? The problem, of course, is that Dick’s not really sure of anything when it comes to the Drakes. Doesn’t know how to avoid putting his foot in his mouth.

The commercial break is over and It’s a Wonderful Life is back on, but Dick leaves the TV set muted. He tries not to stare directly at Tim, in case that’s too much pressure. But he’s very conscious of the kid at the edge of his awareness.

“There was this one year,” Tim says. He’s got his arms around his knees. “When I was a kid. I was…ten, maybe? And they were both home, and we did a big thing for Christmas Eve. She made a big meal, and we watched movies, and I ate, like, half the apple cobbler, I think. And we walked around the neighborhood—she always walked really fast, and she’d—it was funny, because she’d forget, and then she’d be too far ahead, and she’d have to turn and come back to us, and—” Tim’s voice wobbles a bit, and he breaks off sharp, flushing.

Oh, kiddo. Dick gives into temptation and runs a hand through Tim’s hair, digs his fingers into the scalp. Tim closes his eyes.

“Sounds like a good memory,” Dick says, when he trusts his voice.

“That’s when,” Tim says, voice thick. “When she—that’s when I told them to have the funeral, you know? On Christmas Eve. Because…I wanted to remember her like that, you know, and not…”

So that was Tim’s idea. Right, of course, his dad was in a coma. “Yeah,” Dick says aloud.

“I feel like I’m forgetting her.”

That one hits a bit too close to home. “Yeah,” Dick manages.

And of course Tim catches it. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”

“Hey, you’re good.” Breathe.

That bothers me too, he could say, the forgetting.

But he can’t say it. He can’t talk about his parents. He’s never been able to, not really.

Tim still looks worried, so Dick ruffles his hair to make him relax. “Forgetting,” he prompts.

“Dana likes cooking,” Tim says.

It sounds like a non sequitur. But maybe it’s not. Dick watches the silent figures moving on the TV screen. He’s got a bit of the shape of it now, he thinks. Jack Drake on a trip with his new girlfriend. And the girlfriend isn’t a hasty replacement for the dead wife; she’s the opposite of the dead wife. He’s already gotten from what Tim’s said that the new girlfriend is conventionally feminine, young, attractive. A helper career, and dating her employer. She’s probably happy to cook for Jack Drake.

“I like Dana,” Tim says. Careful. “She’s good for him.”

“But you feel disloyal.”

“I mean…not exactly, but…” Tim trails off. “Kind of.” And then, very reluctantly, “She’d be so mad, my mom. She’d be so mad.”

Dick bites back his first instinct to reassure. Tries to think what he should say.

All he knows is that he doesn’t want to argue.

Maybe he can offer something in exchange. A secret for a secret. “Bruce offered to adopt me,” he says. “When I was a kid. I said no.”

Tim goes still.

“I felt like…I felt like it would be replacing them, you know? And—” There’s another truth, behind this truth, and it’s not one he shared with Bruce and Alfred, though they probably guessed. “I don’t know if they would’ve liked him. Bruce.”

It’s not quite what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to say what he means. He’s not sure what advice he wants to give, or if he even has advice. He doesn’t know how much he wants to admit. Tim’s good at reading people, and he’s got a scarily good memory. Dick has to watch what he reveals, because he won’t be able to take it back later.

Tim’s watching him.

* *

He could say: I said no to Bruce because I didn’t want to lose them. But sometimes I feel like I’ve lost them anyway. And then I lost Bruce. And I wonder, sometimes, if I’d said yes back then…Bruce was so close to Jason, you can’t imagine, and I can’t help wondering if maybe…

The thing is, there are costs to holding onto the dead. And you keep paying them. Because the dead never come back. And life doesn’t wait. Other people don’t wait for you.

He could say: I loved them. They loved me. I wish I’d known them better. I was a kid, I spent half my childhood with Bruce, and I don’t regret it, it made me the person I am today, but…I don’t know if they would recognize me. I don’t know if I remember them the way they were, or if I’ve polished all the memories in my head. Were we really that happy? Was it really as good as I remember? What would they think of Bruce? What would they think if they saw me now?

He could say: My dad would’ve hated Bruce. Or—maybe not hated him. But my dad never had much use for rich people. And I’m afraid he’d be disappointed, that I didn’t go back to the circus. We were the flying Graysons, my father and his father and his father, our colors and our stories, and I’m the one who broke the tradition. I’m the one who left.

He could say: I’m forgetting my father’s language. I never knew it that well, but my father—and then my mother learned it for him, for him and for me, and she used to sing, and—I’m too ashamed to ask to someone to teach me when these are things I should know, and—

He could say: I wish I knew a path that wouldn’t hurt you, somehow.

* *

“I don’t think there are right answers,” Dick says at last. “To things like that.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know what your mom would think. But you don’t, either, you know? So you can’t…you shouldn’t put too much weight on it.”

“Yeah.”

And because now Dick feels like a hypocrite, he forces himself to add, “I get it, though. I—I worry about stuff like that too. Sometimes. Bruce…my life changed a lot. After I lost them. And I made choices… I don’t know what they’d think, you know? I don’t know if they’d even recognize me, the person I am now.”

Dick’s parents would’ve wanted him to be happy, with or without them. He knows that. And Dick’s father had fallen in love with a gadji woman, and married her, and he never seemed to worry too much about whether Dick knew the right customs or pronounced Romani words the right way. But nowadays when he tries to speak his father’s language, it comes haltingly to his lips. He sounds like an outsider. He is an outsider.

Can he even call himself a flying Grayson anymore? Visiting the circus sometimes isn’t the same as being a real performer.

Tim’s frowning. “Of course they’d recognize you.”

Tim means well, no doubt, but the easy platitude stings. “You don’t know that.”

“But you’re not that different?”

“I used to spend my nights doing somersaults and now I spend them punching people. You don’t think that’s a little different?”

“But it’s kind of the same thing, isn’t it?”

“Acrobatics and crime fighting?”

“I mean, not exactly, I guess,” Tim says.

“You guess?”

“Shut up. I just meant—you make people not be scared. Like. You make their lives better. They could be having, like, the worst days of their lives and they look up and see you and then it gets better. You make them happier. I dunno. Isn’t it kind of the same thing?”

Huh. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a platitude. Tim believes that.

It’s a nice thought. Dick tries to decide if he believes it. The thing is, Tim is the only person in the world who ever looked at Dick Grayson, acrobat, and Dick Grayson, Robin, and thought, ah, exactly the same, so he’s not exactly a representative source. And then, too, Tim’s—

Dick avoids thinking about it, mostly. But sometimes, Tim gets a particularly earnest tone in his voice, and it’s like he’s talking about someone else, this version of Dick he’s got in his head, who’s kind and good and caring, instead of selfish and angry and lost half the time. Who’s so much better than Dick could ever hope to be. You’d think that a year of actually knowing Dick would’ve snapped Tim out of it, but sometimes…

“I think most of what we do is scare people,” Dick says at last.

“Not the important stuff,” Tim says. “Like that girl, earlier. She was scared, right? And you made her feel better.”

Okay, yes, but… “You talked her down.”

“But you comforted her. I’m not good at that.”

“You did fine.” And Tim sometimes responds better to the name, so he adds, “Robin. Trust me. You did good.”

That wins him a smile, quick and small, and Tim ducks his head. “Thanks.” Earnest: “But, I mean. You too. I guess I didn’t know your parents. But they seemed really nice. And you help so many people, and that’s kind of what they did, right? Of course they’d recognize you.”

Dick has to look away. When he’s composed himself enough to look back, Tim’s eyes are wide and worried.

He’s such a sweet kid.

It’s hard to fight the instinct to pull him closer. He has vague, half-formed fantasies of closeness: hugging the kid, or kissing his forehead, whispering endearments. He wishes Tim were his real little brother, and that they were going to their parents’ house for Christmas tomorrow—imaginary parents, imaginary house, or even Bruce’s house, and Bruce’s old smile, and Alfred fussing over the tree.

Or even farther back: the circus trailer, and a little brother huddled up next to him in the cold, and they’d be speculating about what gifts they were gonna get tomorrow, and Tim disappointed about—something, it doesn’t matter what, but Dick would tease him out of it, make him laugh, and Ma would ruffle Dick’s hair, pleased and proud, and say, that’s my little Robin—and—

Impossible fantasies.

“C’mere,” he says.

Tim leans his head cautiously against Dick’s side, and Dick wraps an arm around him. His hair is still kinda damp. Tim slipped and ended up headfirst in a snowdrift, coming off the train on their way back, and though the suit’s thermals made swift work of everything on the suit, there’s nothing to be done about Tim’s hair. Dick noticed him sticking his head by the radiator earlier and probably should’ve offered him a towel or something, but the picture of Tim attempting to dry his hair via radiator was so funny that Dick had put it off and then forgotten.

He lets his knuckles brush lightly against Tim’s shoulder, and Tim closes his eyes. Everything feels slow and sluggish and tender, the rise and fall of Tim’s chest, the weight of him. Little brother, almost. Not quite, not really, but—enough to pretend. Just for a while. Just for tonight.

“Hey, there, Robin,” Dick says softly, and hears Tim’s breath stutter.

Sometimes, Dick wonders if he knows. Or, no. He knows Tim doesn’t. Tim’s grown up a bit, since last year, but when he showed up he was completely tactless. If he’d overheard the nickname, back at the circus, he would’ve blurted it out along with all of his other evidence. But there are these moments, sometimes, when he can almost pretend Tim knows. And Dick doesn’t have to tell him, he just knows, and it doesn’t matter that the name means something a little different now, because Mary Grayson is still part of it, and so is Dick, and so is the kid at the circus.

Like they’re all caught in a snowglobe that someone’s shaken—and the snow whirls around them, and it settles in a different place, and all the names change, but everything important is still the same.

The world turns and it moves around them, but this one kid, this one moment, stays forever. A shy smile preserved in Polaroid, and a half-remembered embrace, and a kid asleep in Wayne Manor that one time, and Tim’s face pressed against his side now, memories and reality like fractals, like snowflakes, all colliding together.

The silent center of the changing world.

* *

The moment ends, as moments always do. The snowstorm is picking up outside, and Dick ought to double-check that all the windows are closed. The leftover cobbler is drying on the plates, and Dick ought to get up and wash them. Or maybe he’ll make Tim do it. Having a sorta sidekick has its advantages, especially when he’s as easy to bully as Tim.

But Dick doesn’t get up, not yet.

Tim’s mask is peeling off, just a bit, around the edges. Not so you’d notice if you didn’t know what to look for.

That’s probably the radiator’s fault, too. The adhesive stands up to a lot, but the combination of sharp cold and then hot air isn’t a great one. Dick nudges the mask with a finger, and yeah: right near Tim’s cheekbone, the corner is lifting off.

“I know,” Tim says, eyes closed. “Don’t poke my eye out. I was gonna fix it later.”

It can’t be comfortable, though. Peeling adhesive itches.

Tim doesn’t actually need a mask in Dick’s apartment, though it’s smarter if he stays in uniform. Just in case. It’s better not to be half-in and half-out. Robin curled up next to Dick Grayson is a pretty damning image vis-a-vis secret identities, but it’s not half as bad as unmasked Robin next to Dick Grayson. With a masked crimefighter, you can still make up stories. No idea, Clance, he just showed up in the window. It’s a funny thought. Dick Grayson’s home for wayward vigilantes. Though of course Clancy’s met Tim.

“C’mon,” Dick says. “Up and at ‘em.”

“Don’t wanna,” Tim mumbles into his shoulder. “It’s cold.” He scrunches up his face. “I hate winter.”

“Are all the Drakes cold-blooded, or just you?”

“My mom hated it too,” Tim says.

My mother loved the spring, Dick could say. She used to tell me that—

Mi dey volisardyas lolé-kolinachên, he could say. She loved me, and she was always teasing—they both were, both my parents, they loved to laugh—and she used to say I brought springtime with me.

You’re so good, Tim.

Kámas-volisardyas tu. Kámas-volisarde tu.

He’s only half-spoken, under his breath, but Tim catches everything. “What’s that mean?”

It means my mother would’ve loved you, but Dick can’t bring himself to say it for real.

And it’s too much, anyway. He knows that, when he’s being more rational. Not fair to dump that on Tim, the weight of all Dick’s grief and memories. He’s aware that the lump in his throat is not really about Tim himself, not quite. There’s something talismanic about the circus memories, but that’s not particular to Tim-the-person. Anyone could’ve been there, that day. It just happened to be that afternoon, that moment, this kid. One little boy, just like a hundred thousand other little boys. A random moment of chance. A gift from the universe.

“It means,” Dick says, and clears his throat. They do, actually, need to get up, and Dick needs to stop brooding. Holidays are not a good time for him. He gets lost in memories, regrets, nostalgia. Stuck in the past, Babs would probably say.

But he has a good life now, actually. Regrets or no.

And he’s got an honorary kid brother who has not smiled nearly enough tonight.

* *

“It means,” Dick says, lowering his voice portentously, “You have a ridiculous nose.”

“It—what? It does not. Wait, does it?” Tim self-consciously touches his nose. Oh man. He’s so easy. “What’s wrong with my nose?”

“I’m glad you asked. Did I tell you the story about the elephant’s child and the crocodile?”

“Only a million times,” Tim says.

“You see, what happened,” Dick says, ignoring him, “is that the elephant’s child went around asking so many questions that the crocodile bit his nose like this—”

He reaches around to yank Tim’s nose. Tim’s retaliation is an elbow to the side—predictable—so Dick grabs him and twists his arm around. Tim’s defenses are getting better but his forearm blocks still suck.

Ten very entertaining seconds later, Dick’s got one arm braced against Tim’s back and the other hand forcing his face into the sofa cushions.

“Mmph,” Tim protests.

“I’m counting that as an uncle,” Dick tells him, “but only because it’s Christmas and I’m nice. You haven’t been practicing forearm blocks, have you?”

“I practice! Just not all the time.” Tim’s trying to twist around, so Dick takes pity and lets him. Tim makes a face, but he’s not actually mad; he’s pressing his lips together the way he does when he’s trying to turn a smile into a scowl. Robin, legendary terror of the night. A noogie is really the only proper response. “Quit it!”

“Shh.”

“Quit iiiiit.”

“Shhh.”

“Quit it!”

But Tim’s already dissolving into giggles.

* *

“You’re such a jerk,” Tim says, later, all dignity, once he gets his breath back. He’s sprawled upside-down on the couch with his legs in the air, the blanket dangling from his toes. “I don’t even ask that many questions. I haven’t asked you any questions about you and Babs all night.”

Uh huh. Dick flips himself up on the couch. “I’m counting that as a question.”

“Okay, but,” Tim says. “She invited you over to her Christmas party, right? That was her party. Like. If you had a party, it’d be here. So. What’s the deal with you guys?”

He’s so nosy. But this is Dick’s fault for opening the door. Give Tim an inch, and then you get all the pestering. “That was a vigilante party,” he says. Can he balance on one hand on this couch? Hmm. Maybe better not try.

“Is that why her dad wasn’t there?”

“He always works Christmas,” Dick says. “He’s like B, you know. Never a night off.”

This is somewhat misleading. Bruce didn’t always work Christmas. But Jim Gordon always has, as long as Dick’s known him. Every Christmas, no exceptions. When Dick was a kid, he never questioned it. Nowadays, he does wonder. The detective habit is hard to break.

It could be general workaholic behavior (always possible, with the Gordons). Or there might be some upsetting story involving something creepy that James Gordon Jr. did at Christmastime (Dick’s personal theory). But Babs’s sorta little brother is a verboten subject, so Dick hasn’t asked. Babs, he knows, will spend Christmas with Sarah Essen.

“Are you going to date her?”

“None of your business.”

“Because you kept staring at her all evening,” Tim says. Dick’s balancing two-handed on the back of the couch, but lifts one hand. Can’t cuff his head, so his legs will have to do. “Ow!” Tim almost kicks him in the face, and Dick heroically doesn’t retaliate. “You did, though.”

Well, that’s embarrassing. Do you think she noticed, he’d like to ask, but obviously Babs must’ve noticed if Tim did. He jumps down. “If we start dating, I promise you’ll be the last to know.”

“Aw, c’mon.”

“You c’mon. We need to wash up. And you’ve gotta fix your mask.”

“I don’t have any extra adhesive.”

“I do.”

“What did you really say?” Tim says, because he never forgets a question once he’s asked it. “Earlier? Kamas volu-something.” His accent is worse than Dick’s.

“Voliv tu,” Dick says. “It means Merry Christmas. C’mon, Boy Blunder.”

* *

They retreat to the bathroom, and Dick searches his cabinet until he finds the right bottle. Tim doesn’t need help, but Dick hangs around anyway. There’s something absorbing about watching masks come on and off, about the way it transforms your face. Later, when the heat’s finally warmed up the place, Tim will change into real clothes, and ditch the mask, and maybe Dick will loan him a jacket, and he’ll curl up in a little lump on the couch.

And tomorrow morning, he’ll still be here. Like the answer to an unasked wish. Dear Santa, please bring me some family for Christmas, sincerely, Dick Grayson. P.S. If parents unavailable, honorary little brothers are okay. It’s an amusing thought.

But it’s nice, honestly. He’s already imagining the conversations, after. With Clancy: yeah, our dad had to work, but my little brother came over. With Babs: actually, I ended up spending the day with Robin, and her brow will twitch while she adds that clue to her mental list. With Alfred: Tim’s parents got stuck in Chicago, so I thought I’d keep him company for a bit, and Alfred will smile.

And with Tim, someday, maybe: Hey, you remember that one Christmas when we…? It’ll be a good day, he can already tell. Something to hang onto.

A gift.

He watches Tim carefully remove the mask, and splash water on his face, and rub away the last sticky traces of the old adhesive, and then reapply everything.

“Hey, um,” Tim says, quiet, not looking at him. “I forgot if I said. Thanks. For inviting me and…and having me over and everything. And the food. I, um. I appreciate it.”

Sometimes, it’s not the gifts you get but the gifts you give that mean the most. Dick’s breath catches in his throat.

“Sure,” he says. “Anytime.”

* *

Comic notes:

This fic is set during and after Holiday Bash 3. I stole a few quotes from the comic, along with the burnt cookies, Jack and Dana being in Chicago on Christmas Eve, and Dick and Babs ambushing Tim with a party.

Janet Drake is buried on Christmas Eve in Batman 455. In Batman Chronicles 4, while delirious with the Clench, Tim dreams that his mother is alive again, and he “realizes” she’s alive when he smells the food they haven’t had since her death: lamb, potatoes, and apple cobbler.

Dick’s comment that Tim’s too young and should be playing Playstation instead of sparring with nutjobs from Arkham, and Tim’s reply that Gotham needs Robin and he needs Robin, are both from Secret Origins 80-Page Giant. “You’re better than me, Dick,” is something Bruce says to Dick in Detective Comics 725, when Dick’s reminiscing about the old days. Dick’s father was first retconned as Romani in Nightwing Annual 1, and is later shown speaking the language in a flashback; I’ve used the Kalderash dialect for Romani phrases. Tim reads comic books in Young Justice and has an Enya CD in Teen Titans; I changed the CD to a music video. Dick and Tim's synchronized moves show up in various comics, including Gotham Knights 8.

Babs mentions getting notes and thank yous from Robin in Showcase 94 #12, and Dick refers to Tim as an “earnest little computer geek” in Nightwing 110.

I used two lines from The Little Prince:

“‘Yes,’ said the fox. ‘I’ll explain. To me, you are just a little boy like any other, like a hundred thousand other little boys. I have no need of you and you have no need of me. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.’”

"All men have stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems. But all these stars are silent. You—You alone will have stars as no one else has them. In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars will be laughing when you look at the sky at night... You, only you, will have stars that can laugh!”

#I WROTE A FIC YOU GUYS #my fic #next up: next chapter of red letter day #i am proud of me #dick & tim #dick grayson #tim drake

130 notes · View notes

scorpionyx9621 · 3 years

Note

Do you think Jason Todd fandom is kinda toxic? Because it seems like NO MATTER what DC do, there'll always be complains. Forget the bad adaptation like Titans. Even Judd Winick cannot escape the criticism with how he potrayed Robin!Jason. They just never satisfied.

SORRY, IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS. I just moved from Washington D.C. to Seattle, which, for my non-American friends, that's 4442km away. And I DROVE THERE ALL BY MYSELF. And now I'm trying to find new work in a new city and trying to stay mentally healthy and positive. Life is exciting but hard and scary.

*sighs*

As someone who was a fandom elder with V*ltr*n. I've seen some of the worst when it comes to fandom behavior. I'm talking people baking food with shaving razors and trying to give them to the showrunners. I'm talking leaking major plot details and refusing to take it down unless they make their ship canon (I am looking at you, Kl*nce stans) For the most part, DC Comics has had a decades-long reputation of treating their fans like trash and not caring what they think so from what I've seen, we all just grumble and complain in our corners of the internet about how we don't like how X comic portrays Jason Todd.

The challenge with Jason Todd is that he's your clinical anti-hero, the batfamily's Draco in Leather Pants, he's a jerkass woobie, and on top of all of that, he's a Tumblr sexyman. It's a perfect storm for a very fun but frustrating character to be a fan of. It doesn't help that every writer decides to re-invent the wheel every time Jason comes up so his canon lore is confusing at best and inconsistent as a standard.

I guess starting with a general brief on who Jason is and what is uniform about him with every instance he's appeared in comics/media.

Grew up in a poor family in Gotham with a dad who was a petty-mid-level criminal, and a mother who dies of a drug overdose.

Survives on the street on his own by committing petty crimes and potentially even engaging in sexual acts to keep himself alive.

Is cornered by Batman and taken in after Dick Grayson quits/is fired

Becomes the second Robin, but is known for being the harsher, more brutal Robin.

Is killed by Joker after being tortured, but somehow comes back to life and regains senses through the Lazarus Pit

Resolves himself to be better than Batman by basically being Batman but kills people.

Where there has been a lot of conflict in the fandom is the fact that Jason Todd is not a character that is written consistently. DC Comics loves to go with the narrative that Jason was "bad from the start" and was the "bad robin" when, yes, he has trouble controlling his anger, but he also still is just as invested in seeing the best of Gotham City and trying to be a positive change for the world as any other DC Comics hero.

Where I get frustrated with the fandom is its ability to knit-pick every detail of a comic they don't like while completely disregarding everything that makes the comics great and worth it to read. My example being Urban Legends. To which most people had pretty mixed reactions to. I was critical of the comic at first but as it went along I ended up really liking it. I have a feeling DC Comics went to Chip Zdarsky and told him he had 6 issues to bring Jason back into the Bat Family, and honestly he didn't do a bad job. Did it feel rushed? Absolutely. I wish there was more development of Jason and Bruce's characters and their dynamic as a whole. However, where I see a lot of people being angry and upset with Urban Legends is that they feel Zdarsky needlessly wrote Jason as an incompetent fool who needs Bruce to save him.

Whether or not that was the intention of Zdarsky is up to debate. However, and this may be controversial, but I don't think he wrote Jason Todd out of character at all. For as fearsome, intimidating, and awesome as Red Hood is. Jason is a character who is absolutely driven by his emotions. Why do you think he donned the role of Red Hood? As a response to his anger towards The Joker for killing him, and towards Bruce for not taking action against The Joker and for seemingly replacing him so quickly after he died. Jason didn't care about being the murderous Robin Hood or for being the bloody hammer of justice against N*zi's and P*d*ph*les. He only cared originally about making The Joker and Bruce pay. It wasn't until he trained under the best assassins in the world and realized most of them were horrific criminals who trafficked children and were p*dos that Talia began to realize that the teachers that she sent Jason to train under started dying horrific and painful deaths.

The entire story of the Cheer story in Batman Urban Legends was started because it finally forced some consequences upon Jason. Tyler, aka Blue Hood's father was a drug dealer who gave his supply to his wife and kids. And when Tyler's father admitted he gave the drugs to Tyler, it immediately made him fall within the self-imposed philosophical kill-list of Jason Todd. And Jason, well, he proceeds to kill Tyler's father. When this happens, Jason is in shock. Tyler's dad fit the bill to easily and justifiably be killed by Jason. We've never seen Jason having to deal with the consequences of being a murderous vigilante on a micro-level. When Jason realizes what he's done in that he's murdered Tyler's dad, he's shocked. He tells Babs the truth. He does a rational thing because he's in shock. He doesn't know what to do, he never has had to face the consequences of his actions as Red Hood and now the gravity of befriending a child as a vigilante hero who kills people just set in when he killed the father of the same child he was just introduced to.

(Oh here's a little aside because it had to be said, Jason would not have been a good father or a good mentor to Tyler and absolutely should not have been his new Robin. Jason is a man who is in his early 20's (not saying men in their early 20's can't be good fathers at all) who is a brutal serial killer using the guise of a vigilante anti-hero to let him escape most of the law. the complications of having the man who murdered your father adopt you and make you his sidekick are way too numerous for me to explain in a long-winded already heavy Tumblr essay post. There's a reason why we don't advocate for a story where Joe Chill adopted Bruce Wayne or one where Tony Zucco took in Dick Grayson.)

The next biggest argument is that they feel that Jason is giving up his guns as a means to just be invited back into the Bat-Family. To which I will tell anyone who has that argument to go actually read Urban Legends. Already have and still have that argument? Please re-read it. Don't want to? That's okay, I will paste the images from the comic where Jason specifically says that he doesn't want to give up his weapons for Bruce and his real reasoning down below since the comic isn't exactly readily accessible.

Jason gave up the guns because he felt the gravity of what he had done and knows how it'll effect Tyler. Thankfully his mom is alive and in recovery. But Tyler doesn't have a father anymore. And Jason killed Tyler's father. It may have been in accordance to Jason's philosophy, but it was a case where it blurred the lines. Jason Todd isn't a black and white character, just very dark gray. He doesn't kill aimlessly like the Joker. If you are on Jason's list you probably have done something pretty horrific, and also just in general, being in his way or being a threat to him. Mind you, in early days of Red Hood and the Outlaws (Image below) Jason almost killed 10 innocent civilians in a town in Colorado all because they saw him kill a monster. That being said, Jason isn't aimless in his kills.

(Also can we just take a moment to appreciate Kenneth Rocafort's art? DC Comics said we need to rehabilitate Jason Todd's image and Kenneth Rocafort said hold my beer: It's so SO GOOD)

That being said, the key emphasis in the story of Cheer asides from trying to introduce Jason Todd back into the Bat Family and give an actual purpose for him being there, other than him just kind of being there ala Bowser every time he shows up for Go Kart racing, Tennis, Golf, Soccer, and the Olympic games when Mario invites him, is that Jason and Bruce ultimately both want the same thing. Jason wants to be welcomed back into the family and to be loved and appreciated. Bruce want's Jason back as his son and wants to love and protect Jason. Both of these visions are shown in the last chapter of Cheer while under the effect of the Cheer Gas. It's ultimately this love and appreciation they both have for each other that helps them overcome their challenge and win.

Jason Todd is a character who, just like Bruce, has been through so much pain and so much hate in his life. The two are meant to parallel each other. While Bruce chose to see the best in everyone, giving every rogue in his gallery the option to be helped and give them a second chance, hence why he never kills, Jason has a similar view on wanting to protect the public, but he understands that some crimes are so heinous they cannot be forgiven, or that some habitual criminals are due to stay habitual criminals, and need to be put down. But at the end of the day, the two of them both try to protect people in their own ways.

I am aware that through the writings of various DC Comics authors such as Scott Lobdell and Judd Winick, the two have had a very tumultuous relationship. And rightfully so, I am by no means saying that Scott Lobdell writing an arc where Bruce literally beats Jason to within an inch of his life in Red Hood and the Outlaws, nor Judd Winick's interpretation of Under the Red Hood where Bruce throws the Batarang at Jason's neck, slicing his throat and leaving him ambiguously for dead at the end of the comic is appropriate considering DC Comics seems to be trying everything they can to integrate Jason back into the family. That being said, a lot of these writings have shaped the narrative of Jason and Bruce's relationship and have an integral effect on the way the fandom views the two. It doesn't help that Zdarsky acknowledged Lobdell's life-beating of Jason by Bruce at the very end of Cheer by having Bruce give Jason his old outfit back as a means of mending the fence between the two of them. That does complicate a lot of things in terms of how they are viewed by the fandom and helps to cause an even greater divide between the two.

Regardless, I want to emphasize the fact that Jason Todd is a part of the family of his own accord. Yes, he's quite snarky and deadpan in almost every encounter. However, Jason is absolutely a part of the family and has been for a while of his own will. There's a great moment in Detective Comics that emphasizes this. Jason cares about his family because it is his found family. Yes, they may be warry about him and use him as a punching back and/or heckle him. At the end of the day, we're debating the family dynamics of a fictional playboy billionaire vigilante whose kleptomania took the form of adopting troubled children and turning them into vigilante heroes. Jason Todd wants a family that will love and support him. This is a key definition of his character at its most basic. This was proven during the events of Cheer and is being reenforced by DC Comics every time they get the opportunity to do so.

Now, none of this is to say that I hate Judd Winick. I do not, I don't like the fact that in all of his writings of Jason, he just writes him as a dangerous psychopath, and Winick himself admits to seeing Jason as nothing much more than a psychopath. Yet Winick is the one who the majority of the fandom clings to as the one true good writer of Jason Todd because 'Jason was competent, dangerous, smart' Listen, friends, Jason is all of that and I will never deny it. However, what I love about Jason isn't that he's dangerously smart of that writers either write him as angsty angry Tumblr sexyman bait or that they write him as an infantile man child with a gun. There's a large contention of this fandom that has an obsession with Jason Todd being this vigilante gunman who is hot and sexy and while I definitely get the appeal. It is very creepy and downright disturbing that all of you hyperfixate on his use of guns and ability to be a murderer. It is creepy and I'm not necessarily here for it.

What I love about Jason Todd is that despite all of the pain, all of the heartache, all of the betrayal, and bullying, and death, and anguish. Jason Todd is one of the most loving and supportive characters in all of DC Comics. Jason has been through so much in his life, but he still chooses to love. He still chooses to see the bright side in people. Yes, he takes a utilitarian approach and chooses to kill certain villains, but at the end of the day he wants to see a better world, and he wants to be loved. It takes so much courage and so much heart to learn to love again after one has been abused or traumatized. I would not blame Jason at all if he said fuck it and just went full solo and vigilante evil. He has every right to, but he still chooses to be with the Bat Family of his own accord. That's something that I see a lot of in myself. I have been through a lot of trauma and yet I try to be a better person myself in any way that I can. It is extremely admirable of Jason to allow love back into his heart when he really doesn't need to. He kills and he protects because he has this love of society. It may have been shaped by anger and hatred, but Jason has found his place amongst people who love him and value him. I think Ducra, from Red Hood and the Outlaws put it best in the image given below.

To end this tangent, I love Jason Todd and all of his sexy dangerousness, but it's far more than that. As much as Jason may be dangerous and snarky, he loves his family without a shadow of a doubt. I look up to Jason Todd because despite all of his pain and all of his trauma, he still choses to love. Jason Todd is a character who is someone I love because despite all of his flaws and having a very toxic fandom, he still serves as a character filled with so much heart and so much passion. I wish more writers would understand that. But for now I will live with what I have. Even though the fandom may be vocal about it's hatred for his characterization, I choose to love Jason regardless because he is a character who chooses love and acceptance regardless of his pain. Jason Todd is by no means a good person in any sense of the word. He has easily killed upwards of 100 people by now. He is a character who is flawed and complex but ultimately is one who powers forwards and finds love and heart in a place from so much pain and anguish. That is what I love about Jason Todd. After all, to quote a famous undead robot superhero, "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Jason Todd chooses to love despite all of the trauma and pain and grief. Yes, he is hardened in his exterior, but inside there is a man with a lot of love to give and someone who deserves the world in my eyes.

#Long post GOD #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Bat Family #Batman #red hood and the outlaws #RHATO #RH:O #Batman Urban Legends #Red Hood Lost Days #TW Voltron #TW Death #tw murder #TW Klance #Gotta love how i am pouring my heart out onto jason AND calling out the Voltron fandom #Regardless love Jason Todd people

141 notes · View notes

stxleslyds · 3 years

Note

you know how dc keeps forcing this sudden "we're a family" narrative out of nowhere? I'd love batfam content but years of hurt among them make the recent content seem unearned.

bc you know more about dick and jason than the others, how do you think they would realistically become family to each other, or would it even be in character for them to be the "bros" they're written as now?

Oh anon, this question is amazing, I love it! I saw it when I woke up and since then my brain has been brewing this answer, I was thinking about it as I brushed my teeth and as I was making breakfast, and now I am ready to give you the answer, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed thinking/writing about it!

DC keeps forcing the wrong relationships, and they keep forcing the wrong centre of this supposed family, they make it out to be the Bat-Family when in reality the Bat (Bruce) should have never been invited to this party.

This is why I give you the… Dick-Family!

Oh yeah baby, I am going there. Dick is the centre of this “family”, he is the guy who is actually connected with everyone, he has been around for so long and he has been present when almost all of the remaining characters were introduced! Bruce might have come first but that guy has nothing on Dick Grayson.

Dick has cared and loved for everyone in this family in a true and beautiful way, no matter how much fanon and DC try to tell us otherwise. This man was an amazing son to Bruce and Alfred (my love for Alfred and Dick is brought to you by @hood-ex), a fantastic brother to Jason, Tim and Cass as well as a phenomenal father/older brother to Damian.

Dick Grayson is the centre of this whole thing, and thanks to DC now being an Omniverse I will be able to explain my line of thoughts. But first let me clear some ideas up.

The way I see it Jason would only get along good enough with Dick. I am not here for Jason and Tim having brunch together (honestly, Lobdell, what were you thinking), Jason never cared for Tim, and then writers that didn’t know how the Red Hood worked made him try to kill Tim so, to me, that relationship is non-existent, Jason doesn’t really perceive Tim (yet).

Jason and Damian, listen, I know that there is this fanon theory that Jason knew and cared for Damian while he was in the League, but that is just fanon talk and it doesn’t really fit in canon either. Jason wasn’t really capable of doing much other than fight, and after he was put in the Lazarus Pit he either had to leave because Ra’s wanted to kill him or Talia took him to the All-Castle. So, Jason’s only real interactions with Damian would be when Jason was written as a crazy, blood thirsty dude that actually tried to harm a child. So, him and Damian wouldn’t really have a good relationship (yet).

Jason and Cass… that’s just a no. Jason and Barbara, I mean Barbara was older than Dick when she first met Jason, so they wouldn’t have much of a relationship.

Now, lets move on to how I will make the Dick-Family work.

Dick (bless him) actually talks and listens to people, unlike Bruce, so the change would start there. Let’s set the timeline, I will stand right after the events of Under the Red Hood. Bruce just chose saving Joker over letting Jason kill the Joker and the building they were in exploded.

Batman keeps on being himself (trash) and Jason, having survived the explosion, moves on to keep on building his empire. He really wants to control the drug trade in Gotham, so he works on that, he slowly but surely takes his place as a drug lord again and is a constant pain in Black Mask’s ass.

While Jason is doing that, Dick is trying to put together his life after Bludhaven was attacked with Chemo. Let’s say that Bludhaven isn’t completely erased from the map but he does have to leave so the city can be re-built. He goes to Gotham, where the Red Hood works.

Let’s say that Alfred told Dick who was under the Red Hood, so Dick being a good brother goes looking for Jason. Their first interaction out of the mask wouldn’t be nice, Jason barely remembers his life before the pit and he really is convinced that Dick is the absolute worst.

But then Jason being a nosy man would make an appearance, for some reason, let’s say that he hacks into the Batcave and when he does that he finds some footage… The footage in question would be the one which shows Bruce punching Dick and sort of blaming him for Jason’s death. (Oh yeah, I am going there). The footage will make a memory come to mind, Dick taking Jason on a skying trip.

So, the next time that Dick and Jason see each other is because Jason went looking for Dick and here is where these two actually talk. The way I see it, Dick is more flexible with the no killing rule, he has worked many times with people that are villains or that just have different ways of doing things. So, I think that he would understand where Jason’s coming from with his ideas. As they begin to understand one another Jason begins to recover more and more memories from before the Pit.

They get together once a week and they chat about life as well as vigilante stuff. They become friends.

At the same time Dick is also very good friends with Tim and also acts like the amazing big brother he is with him. They chat, they sometimes work together and one day they come across a very complicated situation involving a new drug being introduced in Gotham.

Dick would call Jason and now both of them and Tim are reunited in a safe house working together so this new drug doesn’t fall in the wrong hands. Jason and Tim wouldn’t really like each other. Both of them are there for Dick and because they have to get the job done.

That’s how I see Dick forming the Dick-Family unconsciously. Hell, I will introduce Barbara now. Do you guys remember that in UtRH Barbara was mad with Bruce and didn’t want to work with him but she was still in contact with Dick? Well, I am using that so it can fit my narrative.

Dick, Jason and Tim need more intel so Dick calls Oracle (real Oracle) and because Barbara trusts Dick she works with them.

Here is where it gets interesting, through Barbara, Dick meets Cass, through Tim he meets Stephanie. You see that Dick’s connections are leading him to form a group of people. Cass and Stephanie are trained by Babs and Dick and they become the new Batgirls.

As all of that keeps developing Jason and Dick become “partners in crime” they help each other, they start building a brotherly relationship again. Although Jason refuses to say that out loud.

Then comes in Damian, a difficult child if there has ever been one but he has Bruce so Dick doesn’t have to jump in that fast… right?

Oh brother! Bruce is dead (omg what would we do? Battle for the cowl maybe? No!). with Bruce gone there is only one person who can take his place and everyone knows it has to be Dick.

Dick would feel a lot of things as he is taking Bruce’s place as Batman but he has a group of people ready to back him up (Alfred, Jason, Tim, Babs, Cass, Steph), and he also has to take care of Damian, he is a child and with his father gone then maybe his mother would want to take him back to the League of Assassins, Dick obviously doesn’t want that so he talks to Tim and tells him that he sees him as his equal and that he has a plan to make Damian stay and it involves making Damian his new Robin.

Tim would obviously be sad and a little hurt, but he understands Dick’s decision because they talked about it and Dick actually took the time to explain why he was doing what he was doing (really DC half of the problems you guys come up could be fixed in seconds if people would only take some time to just TALK!).

Dick and Damian work as Batman and Robin and Dick starts assuming the position of his father. They would live with Alfred in the penthouse and maybe Tim will join them from time to time (when he wasn’t busy with Young Justice/Teen Titans stuff). Slowly Dick and Damian will become the Dynamic Duo that we love today.

So, Dick would have his own Robin, Oracle (who is also managing her own team with Black Canary and (why not) the Batgirls), Red Robin and Red Hood working with him if he needs them. They are always a call away. Jason is the most difficult to reach and he will only involve himself in that kind of drama if its about controlling the drug trade or scaring the living shit out of some very shady people.

So, Red Hood wouldn’t be working with the new (and improved) Batman but Jason would hang out with Dick sometimes.

From there they build up. Dick renovates Arkham Asylum and makes it work they way that it is supposed to work. He might also recruit Catwoman when he needs someone really sneaky, they have known each other for so long, I bet Selina loves Dick, she would certainly help him out.

But as all things do, this happy and well-connected Dick-Family is disrupted when Bruce comes back, he inserts himself slowly back into his role as Batman and as he does that Dick starts to move away from it.

But Dick’s connections are strong and well cared for, so, even when he goes back to Bludhaven and starts fresh (again) as Nightwing those connections remain. Oracle still gives him intel, Robin and Red Robin come over to Bludhaven to patrol, maybe they even have their own rooms at Dick’s place.

With Bludhaven functioning again, all of the terrible people that were working there also come back, maybe some of them never left and they have been corrupting the city from its very core. So, when Jason tells Dick that he would like to expand his operations to Bludhaven, Dick says yes, as long as Jason keeps him updated on his work and also lets him know what is going on.

I think it works! What do you guys think so far?

From then on with the whole Dick-Family being connected and strong I think they can actually act and solve their problems as a family. All those arcs that didn’t work very well because Bruce was in the middle of it being a jerk, I think they will work if Dick is at the centre of it. Let’s say that Bruce hid the fact that Joker knows their identities and all that, with such a strong family the second that the Joker tries to manipulate Jason into believing that he created him, Dick will come out of the shadows and shut that bullshit down. If Joker tries to do something to the Circus, then the Birds of Prey and the Robins will be there in seconds helping Dick.

The Court of Owls, those little shits wouldn’t stand a chance against this team, this force of nature! Jason would be the one working from afar because you know my boy wouldn’t be subjected to the “no-killing” rule but if he does it, he has to do it away from the children (Damian) and away from Cass, if he doesn’t want to know real trouble. (He probably arranged those things with Dick a long time ago and he is happy with it).

Now, please forgive me but for angst reasons I will actually let the events of, Batman Incorporated #8, Forever Evil, Nightwing #30 and Spyral run its course.

Let me explain, after Damian’s death Dick holds the Dick-Family together, as well as Bruce because he is amazing like that, but then after Dick supposedly dies, things change just a little bit. Jason would retreat back to his own corner because the only thing attaching him to the Dick-Family was Dick but he would also keep his eyes open and he might also have a direct line with Oracle if things go south.

Aside from Jason, I do see the others working on keeping their connections intact. When Damian eventually returns the land of the living, I can see all of them coming together even more because that’s what Dick would have wanted.

And then Dick will come back from Spyral and here is where the Dick-Family will show the “Bat-Family” why its superior to it in every aspect possible.

The Dick-Family will notice that something must have happened, Dick would never play dead and leave them like that, but Dick loves Bruce and he doesn’t want to tell them the truth, Bruce has no memories now and his family doesn’t deserve that kind of drama BUT Jason and Tim are suspicious, they know Dick at this point and they trust him so they firmly believe that he is hiding something to protect someone. And here is where life repeats itself. Let’s review the Batcave’s footage, yes, I did it again, I just love the fact that Bruce has footage of himself being the absolute worst to his kids, how does DC not use it! Anyway, Tim and Jason find the footage from the events of Nightwing #30 and suddenly the Dick-Family have their “Dick defence squad” jackets on and they are ready to party.

After all that Bruce eventually gets his memories back and he is held accountable for his actions. Also, around this time the events of Robin War would have already happened so Duke is also introduced. Dick lets him join and all that, and then Duke and Cass become besties and they work together.

And yeah, as Rebirth comes closer the Dick-Family would be more united than ever.

The end.

That is how I would have done it. But this way is slow, and DC wouldn’t be able to monetize it as much as they would want.

Jason wouldn’t be giving hugs and calling everyone their brother or sister, he will only get along with Dick and he would be professional with everyone else.

Tim and Damian would get along but they wouldn’t go for ice cream together on a sunny day. Steph and Damian would and so would Cass and Tim or Cass and Duke.

Oracle would work with Dick and the others as a side thing because her main thing would be the Birds of Prey, this time with Helena too.

Alfred would spend his time with Bruce but he would also be very aware of Dick and his influence on everyone around them. Bruce eventually would be integrated to the Dick-Family because Dick is a sweetheart but Dick would also make Bruce follow his rules, Dick is a little bean but he is also the most badass person in the room (whichever room) so you better listen to what he has to say.

The Dick-Family would be something that grows silently and doesn’t need a “Joker War” in order for them to be there for each other, they would try their best each step of the way and they will talk things out when mistakes are made.

This is the way that I see this family dynamic working.

I would even go as far as to say that Talia can be part of the Dick-Family because she is connected to three people, Dick, Damian and Jason.

Dick is the person with most connections in the DC Universe, the Titans, the Justice League, Deathstroke, they all have connections to this treasure of a man. If he needs help in Gotham or Bludhaven then he can call people from the “first circle”, if things are beyond a “street level” threat them he can call the Titans and if shit really hits the fan, Clark and the others are a call away.

Anyway, this was unnecessarily long, I am sorry about it but I am also not because I really don’t know how to answer your question without going on a long rant.

In conclusion the Bat-Family doesn’t work and sadly it wouldn’t work no matter how much they force it. These people don’t have connections, Bruce is not able to make connections between people. And DC has erased entire relationships that Dick used to have. I mean, they got rid of Dick and Tim being close brothers just so they could give us a shitty brunch between Tim and Jason? Only yesterday we saw a true and beautiful interaction between Dick and Damian.

DC is handling the “Bat-Family” in all the worst possible ways. It just doesn’t work.

They should have used Dick all those years ago and they shouldn’t have destroyed Jason’s characterization with Lobdell’s ideas.

So, sadly, my dear anon, I don’t see the Bat-Family as a in character thing for any of these people as they are written currently, but I hope that you enjoyed my version of it. May the Dick-Family bring everyone who reads about it a little joy!

#Dick-Family #Jason Nation #dick grayson #nightwing #red hood #tim drake #damian wayne #red robin #robin #batfamily #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dc comics #jason todd #asksss

90 notes · View notes

sqoiler · 3 years

Text

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue.

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?”

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors.

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand.

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms.

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper.

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school.

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work.

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman.

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards.

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says.

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead.

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that.

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper.

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol.

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure.

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish.

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards!

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?”

Steph whirls around.

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen.

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house.

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says.

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him.

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her.

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him.

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says.

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react.

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully.

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk.

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back.

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

#(posts fathers day fic in december)#stephanie brown #bruce wayne #brotp: slap #my writing #long post

466 notes · View notes

sleeping-lilies · 3 years

Text

robin era jason, dick, and babs headcanons because there’s too much comedic potential to ignore

- dick and babs were the ultimate gossip buddies. whenever dick was with the titans for long periods of time, babs always filled him in on everything

babs: dick you’ll never believe what hal said to bruce last night, i even have videos. dick, the look on his face please—

dick, immediately locking doors so his teammates don’t hear the mad shit about to be dropped on main: tell me everything

- vice versa too, dick filled babs in on everything going on with the titans and all they can say is thank god those lines are bat secured with no villains being able to listen in, imagine deathstroke hearing through bat gossip that joey’s dating who?!?! 😳

- batkids have been and always will be the holder of superhero gossip. it’s a business, you see, but we’re getting off topic 😡

- lmfao anyways this is literally how dick finds out about jason

babs: anyways, jason—

dick: who the fuck is jason

babs: ....

dick: barbara?!?!

babs: ok promise you won’t freak out

- babs and dick’s first reaction upon meeting jason being “why is he so small i wasnt that small” “dick you were literally nine when you were robin—“ “he’s tiny” it’s like those two share the same braincell

- i’m making it so that dick gave jason his number earlier because i feel like it 😡😡😡 (not that it changes much other than the fact that i want more gossip dropped in dm’s)

- when dick gave jason his number, he went to babs like “give me jason’s number” “didn’t you literally just give him your’s?” “ya but i’m gonna make sure he texts me” “ya ok that’s fair”

- whenever jason didn’t want to be in the manor (fight with bruce, boredom, etc) he went to wherever the fuck babs lived and they would facetime dick and talk mad shit. it was a thing.

- despite them all being able to drive, babs was the only one during this time with an actual, legitimate, legal license (jason was too young to have a license and dick is too lazy/busy/whatever-excuse-he-wants-to-use to take the permit and driving test) so babs drove them around everywhere and it was a mess™ consisting of a bunch of backseat drivers

- “dick omg look at this video i found from the batcave” “omg he said robin gives him magic” “robin gives him magic” they both cry about it for years to come

- babs sometimes kidnapped jason after school after telling the head of wayne manor (alfred) and took him to get ice cream, then to the library while she worked. jason was the greatest kid in the library, he even had his own throne special chair just for him whenever he came provided by library staff who adored this absolute angel.

- jason 🤝 babs 🤝 dick -> i believe in annoying yet endearing nicknames supremacy

- nicknames include (some used by some more than others or just one, or by both equally because they’re annoying pick and choose my good people)

little wing (iconic, we all know this one fellas and who uses it)

red (used for babs, absolutely fantastic, but in the future it gets confusing because some people with their goddamn hero names 😡)

boy wonder (classic, babs calls them both that)

barbie (for babs, jason uses this one and he’s the only one able to get away with it)

dickie (jason just really gets away with everything huh)

dickhead (jason’s lucky he’s cute)

baba black sheep (jeez i’m on a roll with babs’ nicknames she’s so nickname-able and that’s very cool and sexy of her)

jay z

jay allen

jay jay jay (shut up, dickhead—)

big bird

and a bunch more i’m too tired to look for them in canon or make new ones up, but you get the idea

- dick can totally bake, and babs and jason keep bugging him when he’s baking and add more chocolate chips while pretending to not notice that he can see them 😡😡😡

- headcanon that jason had hero worship for babs and dick because they’re so cool in and out of costume and it never really went away when he got older listen his older brother and pseudo sister are so cool and that’s not his fault but he’ll never admit it

- barbie movie marathons because barbie is an iconic legend and they all recognize it. they have the fucking “she’s the queen of the WA-A-A-AVES” song memorized along with all other barbie movie songs, they sing it on patrol.

- dick and jason’s sibling dynamic was and is basically “ur a little shit and i hate you but i will literally kill for you”

- dick had tension with bruce while jason was just a little shit who would totally cause drama for the sake of it, and people never take advantage of this absolute power duo for destroying bruce

- dick sending cryptid texts to jason through a burner phone because he’s dramatic jason totally knew it was him about things that drive bruce mad, like leaving the shower turned to the coldest setting before bruce got there, leaving the lights in the batcave on, etc. jason, a wise little child, totally took advantage of this. bruce came to accept his fate

- the gc names, guys the group chat names

- jason crashing into titans tower whenever he wants and dick doesn’t bat (hAH) an eye, occasionally he very sweetly asks babs to come with him and she agrees but only sometimes because some people have jobs, jason—wait dick is being flirted with by who?!?! i’ll leave it up to your imagination ;) and they totally crashed titans missions too

- one time bruce was busy with the league while alfred was on vacation and bruce absolutely could not dip (i’m imagining bruce getting a call from the headmaster during an honest to god fight and bruce just picking up while punching the daylights out of some asshole) (“mr wayne, what is that noise in the background?” “sorry, headmaster, the cat is having a seizure”), so when jason got into a “fight” (read: some jackass picking on jason before he snapped and yelled at him and the bitchass kid tried to punch him and jason’s no quitter) bruce called dick who was an adult and legally family (yes dick is adopted sometime after jason was, stay mad) like “son... son please” and dick was like “oh no need to plead with me, this is too good” but of course this bitchass doesn’t have an actual lisence yet and he was hanging out with babs anyways so he and babs rolled up to gotham academy and the kids stared at them like “holy shit they’re so cool” ya dick and babs are those power couple, whether romantic or not, that turn heads, they’re just that powerful strolled into the office, bailed jason out while intimidating the headmaster because the altercation was the result of school staff negligence of actual bullying like those cliche tropes, said “ayyy you got that brat good” and get him chili dogs or whatever the fandom made robin jason’s favorite food. omg i just made an entire fanfic in rough draft form someone please steal it and write it in full form and send me the link

- jason is very very tiny, you see. babs and dick pick him up and move him for any reason, whether because they want to sit on that chair or to just throw him out of harm’s way and take the bullet for themselves.

- jason and dick both get adorable blushes on their faces it’s genetic yes that’s how genetics work shut up meanwhile babs’ ears turn red when she’s embarrassed and all three of them clown each other for it

- i yelled about this to my mutual (cough cough @littlespaceboii) who also added to this absolute dogshit headcanon and then in the discord full of mutuals, but the basement of wayne manor is haunted. dick found it when he was a little gremlin (i stand by that dick was the original demon child) (“you see damian, before there was you there was me” the real reason he was good with damian lmfao) and was like “omg this is so cool” @littlespaceboii came up with that it was just alfred fucking with bruce and so when jason first came and dick was comfy around him he was like “so have you been in the basement” and jason was like “im literally robin i’ve been in the batcave?!?!” and dick goes “no the basement, the haunted one” and jason’s like “hAUNTED?!?!” cuz jason has at least some self preservations and knows not to fuck with the spookies until he too became a spooky and bruce was like “there’s no ghost it’s not haunted” because he’s a skeptic and a party pooper and babs is like “no go on let him finish” even though she knows full well there are no ghosts or does she? and uhhhh basically they becomes ghostbusters 2.0 but cooler and funnier

- this trio is basically baby pan/bisexual jason and two resident expert pan/bisexuals solidarity but that’s literally canon. they go to pride every year that jason’s alive what who said that?

- they all tease each other for their crushes like all siblings/family friends do, i don’t need to say it but it’s important that’s emphasized for my well being

- yelled about this in the discord to the mutuals who added onto this absolute train wreck too, but jason used to play baseball during his robin days, and dick never showed up to those games with being busy as an excuse, but babs always showed up with bruce and alfred and took pictures for dick so dick could be like “mlb players are jobless now that little wing is on the scene” babs (and sometimes bruce) always shouted loudest for jason whether he was in the field or in the dugout and jason would get this extremely adorable blush on his face (jason finds out in the future why dick never showed up (cough cough ptsd from two face’s massive baseball bat which led to everything that came after including being fired and veangance academy and nearly killing two face and omg that’s a ride) and is like oh my god my childhood is even more ruined—)

- remember when i said dick got adopted after jason did in this new absolutely fabulous canon i just created? bruce did that because “ahhh fuck that’s my kid and i want him to know i love him through every means possible since i have the ability to do so” i believe in good dad bruce supremacy and made a whole thing where he invited dick to dinner for like a week to work up the courage and bonding to ask him and show him the adoption papers and then everyone cried :) bruce decided to finally adopt dick after jason referred to dick as his brother and bruce was like “...oh” and alfred was like 👀

- dick, as the first child hero and one of the first heroes period like at least a year or two before babs, holds the “back in my day” card over literally everyone in the hero community in general and pulls it out to annoy babs and jason even tho babs literally joined the scene only a year or two after dick

jason, shaking in his panties: it’s so fucking cold

dick, standing strong in his tits out outfit, who had to wear the panties on his own decision: oh, you’re cold? back in my day—

babs, throwing her boot at his face: god shut the fuck up—

and then dick doesn’t give back her boot and it becomes a whole thing with lots of tackling and play fighting and someone nearly gets thrown off they rooftop for funsies but anyways

also on a side note, babs would take off her cape and wrap it around jason whenever she noticed his discomfort with the weather, or use the weather as an excuse whenever she saw him uneasy for whatever reason and they never mention it to each other

- yelled about this in the discord to the mutuals at some point too holy shit i have friends, but those three are team rocket. they went out as team rocket for halloween one year after bullying bruce to let jason out only jason because he can’t tell dick and babs what to do and jason is under his care and when they do convince him, dick and babs bully jason into being meowth. manifesting jason in a meowth onesie ARTISTS PLEASE—

- dick finally took his license seriously and took his driver’s test after babs became paralyzed.

- those were a rough few months for those three. and then another rough few months for those two

- yikes, sorry to throw angst at you (sorry (unfeeling)) anyways, in the future alfred finds those old photos and shows the rest of the fam, so dick and babs bully jason, 6’2 jason that towers way above both of them, and once again bullies him into being meowth “for tradition, little wing!” “shut up, dickhead” the rest of the batkids lose their shit over this, naturally. bruce and alfred stand in the back teary eyed reminiscing the old days when things were a little more simple.

- discowing walked so terrifying handsome squidward red hood helmet could run (even tho the ugly helmet tripped and fell and missed the mark because discowing wasn’t ugly and will always remain superior, i feel i have committed a terrible crime comparing the two)

dick: jason what the fuck is that

jason: it’s fashion

dick: it’s terrifying

jason: i’m only following in my older brother’s footsteps 😔

dick: listen here, you little shit strangles him haha just kidding that illegal wait theyre vigilantes they don’t follow the law—

- these three and cass refer to the rest of the batkids as “the kids” (if she’s older than jason, sometimes she is and sometimes she isn’t and i’m really confused but whatever)

- babs and dick’s relationship with jason pre death literally shaped how jason treats his siblings post pit madness like he literally goes “what would red and big bird do?!??” when he needs to go into big brother mode over the “little ones” (“little” because tim and steph are adults and duke is nearly an adult himself oh my god he’ll graduate from high school soon and jason never got to do that himself he’s totally going to the ceremony legally dead or not) 🥺

- holy trinity continue hanging out with each other, whether lunch or games or whatever, and just enjoy each other’s company after long, rough years

297 notes · View notes