#i cannot believe you called alfred an idiot lmao

[nightwingmyboi]

Ahh, but this is literally the mindset that I’m always complaining about. As anon stated in the ask even, Dick was undercover at Spyral (because Bruce beat Dick into doing so, despite his protests [x]) and Bruce was his only contact to the outside world. Bruce did not allow Dick any other backup plan, so when Bruce lost his memory, Dick was completely in the dark about what was happening, in an incredibly precarious undercover mission, surrounded by potential enemies. Dick didn’t know that Bruce had amnesia, he didn’t even know that Damian was alive. So, Dick had zero say on whether Bruce was told about Batman, and was in the exact same boat as the rest of his siblings in that he followed Alfred’s lead on the matter. 

You’re coming away from all that with the sense that Dick looks bad. Really. Once again, Dick is far away, not even involved in what’s happening, and it is still somehow his fault when things go wrong. Are you kidding me. 

You also pretty much missed the point of this post. We were not at all talking about the pros and cons of telling or hiding from amnesiac superheroes the truth about their secret identities. Anon was comparing the family’s approaches and mindsets in these two scenarios.

With Bruce, the main concern is what he wants. Whether he’s happy. Even when Bruce unintentionally left him out to dry when he really needed him, the first thing Dick asks when he meets this new Bruce Wayne is:

Grayson #12

“Are you happy?” Dick’s main concern is for Bruce’s wellbeing, not for his own. And this is a mindset the rest of the family shares. It also really wasn’t a matter of Alfred trying to hide from Bruce the fact that he was Batman either. If you read through the panels I originally posted, Alfred is telling Bruce the whole story. But Bruce asks for him to stop and says that he doesn’t want to remember, and Alfred respects that request and doesn’t force Bruce to do something he doesn’t want.

I don’t really appreciate you calling Alfred an idiot lmao. He’s just trying to do the best he can for the man he considers his son. I would say that I agree that someone should have been there for Damian, but you’ll notice that none of the family members that knew that Damian was alive (ie Jason, Tim, Barbara, and Alfred) stepped up to be there for him. It is interesting that you are not similarly critical of them for their inaction, especially since they were characters who were actually around. 

Now, look at how Dick having amnesia was handled. If Bruce thought that it was important that Dick knew the truth, he could have talked him through it as Alfred did for him. But instead, he choose to reveal the truth in a way that re-traumatized Dick, and had him running out of the manor in a panic. 

I feel like it is that moment where it is most obvious that Bruce is only thinking of himself. Dick is horrified and scared because of Bruce’s actions, and when faced with Dick’s distress, Bruce does not apologize or ask if Dick is alright. He yells that it is unacceptable that Dick’s memory has not returned to him. The evil brainwashing Court of Owls lady comes off as the more reasonable, kinder figure in the scene. That is not a great look.

Similarly, when Barbara visits Ric in Bludhaven, lets see what Barbara’s first priority is: 

Nightwing #50

“I’m here to help you remember.” She doesn’t ask Dick if he’s doing alright, doesn’t ask what he needs. Her main concern is trying to get Dick’s memories back. She tells Dick to come back to the manor. He refuses, and that’s it. She’s aware that he’s homeless, living out of a cab. She’s aware that he was just shot in the head, has forgotten most of his skills as a vigilante, and is completely vulnerable in a rough city like Bludhaven. And she leaves him to that, doesn’t compromise, doesn’t give him any money, doesn’t seem to care about his circumstances. Her main concern is that “He doesn’t realize we need him. He doesn’t realize...I need him.” 

This is what anon was drawing our attention to...that in very similar circumstances, one of these people is being viewed and cared for as an individual with emotions and wants, while the other is being viewed in terms of usefulness and utility, and is disregarded when he can no longer meet his family’s needs. 

The thing that gets me about Ric Grayson is that when Bruce lost his memory a couple years ago, everyone bent over backwards to give him an idyllic life. Including Dick, despite Bruce being his only connection while he was an a dangerous undercover mission while everyone thought he was dead. But the family can't even give Dick the courtesy of waiting until his bandages are removed to try to press him into service again. I'm sure it's been said before, but it annoys me every time I think of it.

Jesus, I hadn’t even thought about that. But you’re so right. Seeing Alfred gently talking Bruce through his history: 

Batman (2011) #43

And allowing him to make the choice to do what he wishes with his life, even if that means no longer being Batman, no longer even knowing about Batman and living with that weight, no longer being there for his own children...hell, Alfred even encouraged that choice, and everyone bended over backwards so that that could happen, wanting Bruce to be happy first and foremost. And he got to be an amnesiac billionaire, with all the money in the world, a fancy house, etc. 

And take that in comparison to Dick, who, yeah, is still in recovery, being taken down to the Batcave and abruptly told he was Nightwing and shown that video of him being shot in the head...unlike with Bruce, there is zero consideration about “what’s best for Dick here?” and “what would he want?” and “what does he need right now?” They really were just like, welp, have to get Nightwing back on the streets ASAP and this is the fastest way to do it. Don’t care if it might hurt him to make that happen. 

Nightwing (2016) Annual #2

Nightwing (2016) #50

With his family’s main concern being that the guy who was just shot in the head isn’t there for them when they need him...and then he’s homeless and alone. Literally night and day. Big yikes man. 

[afjakwritesarchive]

NWC #5

Pairing: USUK Words: 2,904 Rating: T AU: Highschool Genre: Romance/fluff Summary: After Alfred gets drunk at a party, unexpected feelings come to light.  A/N: Literally just a bunch of fluff lmao.

Arthur Kirkland hated parties.

Everything about them was too much for him. The deafening, hyper-auto-tuned music seemed to strike harshly at his eardrums as if someone were pounding upon a gong, and the crowds of rowdy, inebriated teenagers acting ridiculously idiotic did nothing to help his poor opinion of such gatherings. Arthur was not one for people in general, let alone those whose life goal seemed to be getting as shitfaced as humanly possible. In his eyes, most of those who attended what some of his classmates liked to call 'ragers' were either incredibly bored, incredibly stupid, or both.

And yet, despite his overwhelming hatred for the mere concept of an obnoxious, alcohol-fueled gathering of his classmates, Arthur had shown up to Francis' Bonnefoy's sickeningly loud house party just after midnight, a bottle of vodka gripped tightly in his pale hand. He'd barely opened the door (accidentally hitting two ridiculously drunk party goers with it as he did so) when the Frenchman swooped down upon him, slipping an an arm across his shoulder.

"Ah, so you decided to come!" Francis exclaimed. "I cannot say I'm surprised, though you did spend the better part of the day reassuring me that you absolutely would not." He said, leering at the Brit as he lead him through the living room, currently filled to the brim with people.

"I know what I said, frog. Say anything more about it and I'll castrate you." Arthur bit out in reply, frowning as he whipped his head around in order to scan the crowd.

Francis watched him for a moment, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. "Don't worry, he is around here somewhere."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur replied, annoyed.

"Of course you don't." Francis said with a roll of his eyes. He pushed some of his impeccable, wavy blond hair over his shoulder and gestured to a table covered entirely by different bottles. "Let me make you a drink!"

Arthur's thick brows furrowed. "I'm not drinking tonight. But, erm, I did bring this," he informed as he raised the bottle of vodka in his hand, "just in case. I didn't know if everyone was supposed to bring a drink or if you would have enough, but there you are, in any case."

Francis accepted the bottle with a teasing smile. "How very generous of you, Arthur."

"Belt up," Arthur huffed, turning away from the table to face the crowd. "Christ. How many people did you invite?"

Francis turned, their shoulders bumping as they observed the mass of teenagers on the makeshift dancefloor. "Not too many, only two-hundred something. I left most of the inviting up to them—I simply told everyone to bring along as many people as they wanted."

"Well, they certainly did. I can't believe that you actually like seeing your house get torn apart by a bunch of..." Arthur abruptly trailed off, loosing his train of thought as his eyes caught on the staircase.

Alfred Jones bounded down the stairs with his signature megawatt smile, a red solo cup in one hand. His big, utterly mesmerizing blue eyes took stock of the crowd before returning to the face of the person beside him, and he ran a hand through his silky golden hair. He stumbled a step when he and his companion—a man named Antonio who had graduated the year before—reached the bottom of the stairs and made their way into the crowd, his face clearly visible as he walked due to his staggering height.

Arthur's eyes followed him intently, despite being aware of how rude it was to stare. No matter what he tried, he was irresistibly drawn to Alfred Jones, and whenever the man was near, it was impossible to tear his eyes away from the man.

Very suddenly, those bright baby blues met Arthur's deep green, and the Brit jolted in surprise. He watched Alfred's face light up at the sight of him, and the American immediately raised an arm in the air in order to wave at him. Arthur even thought he heard that melodious voice calling out a 'hey, Artie!' over the ear-splitting music. Now bright red in the face, Arthur raised a hand up in response, giving the blond a rare smile. He mouthed 'hello' as he watched the American push his way through the crowd to meet him.

"Ah, I think I see something that needs my attention," Francis said, and nudged Arthur's shoulder with a knowing smile before taking his leave.

"Yo, Artie!" Alfred called as he approached, moving to stand beside Arthur. "I'm, like, totally surprised to see you here, man. Never seen you at a party before," he said, beaming.

Arthur's freckled cheeks burned and he looked down in order to compose himself before raising his head to meet Alfred's eyes. "W-Well, I... had a change of heart," he said stupidly, having been robbed of any intelligent thought due to the American's close proximity.

"Well, I'm glad ya did," Alfred said as he raised his cup to his lips and took a sip.

Arthur felt his blush spread to the tips of his ears and cursed himself for going weak in the knees at the comment.

"Truth be told, I always kinda wished you'd show up to a party," Alfred said. "Y'know, 'cause we only ever really see each other at school and all."

Arthur stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. Alfred looked down at him with a soft, sincere smile, and, needing something to say, Arthur blurted the first thing that came to mind: "I-I was looking forward to seeing you tonight as well!" He exclaimed with far too much enthusiasm, immediately wanting to smack himself.

Alfred's eyes went wide in surprise and his smile turned into a wide grin. "Aww, Artie, I knew you loved me!" He exclaimed, teasing the Brit over the joking antagonism that had begun between the pair in their freshman year.

Alfred Jones had transferred to Arthur's school four months into their freshman year and had immediately won the hearts of almost every student and staff member at their school. He quickly gained a reputation as a funny, obnoxious, and somewhat ditzy boy with a heart of gold and an exterior to match. He was absolutely gorgeous, and many of his classmates would vie for his attention in the years to come. However, Alfred was also a bit of a troublemaker, and was widely known for skipping class and pulling pranks around the school.

As the student council president and resident stick in the mud, Arthur Kirkland had vowed to put an end to Alfred Jones' constant rule-breaking, and had successfully issued detentions to the blond on many occasions. However, as time wore on, Arthur found himself less and less resistant to the American's charms. They'd long since buried the hatchet between them, and the pair were known throughout the school for their odd and often entertaining relationship. As was expected of him, Arthur was always ready to catch Alfred when the American attempted to create mayhem, but the true animosity between them had dissipated. In its place was a friendship often characterized by joking insults and witty banter shot back and forth between the pair.

However, as time wore on, not only did Arthur grow less irritated by Alfred, but actually quite fond of the American. Though Arthur knew his initial fondness for Alfred was reciprocated, it was also clear to him that his fondness for the American had continued to grow. Now, in his senior year, he had more or less come to terms with the fact that he was irrevocably in love with Alfred, though this fact remained hidden from the sunny American.

"Oh, shut it! You know I can't stand you, Jones." Arthur replied.

Alfred laughed loudly. "Hey, I'm gonna go get a drink. You want anything?" He asked.

Arthur looked over to the table where a bowl of punch sat, surrounded by various bottles of alcohol, soda, and juice. Several of his classmates were currently huddled around it, sloppily pouring different beverages into their plastic cups. Arthur made a face as he watched one of the boys pour the remaining contents of a bottle of vodka into the punch bowl before walking away, his arm slung over a girl's shoulder.

"No, thank you," the Brit said.

"Alright," Alfred nodded. "Wanna come with me anyway?" He offered.

Arthur blinked, surprised. Then, red-faced, he nodded and followed Alfred to the table, unable to keep the smile from his face at the knowledge that Alfred wanted to talk to him more. Certainly the American was friends with just about everyone at the party, and the thought that he wanted to talk to Arthur out of all of his potential options flattered the Brit more than he was willing to admit.

Alfred filled his cup using the keg beside the table, downing it's contents instantly. "You're not gonna get drunk?" He asked, raising his voice in order to combat the loud music blasting from the speakers nearby.

"God, no. I haven't been drunk in ages, and I don't intend to any time soon!" Arthur called back in return, shaking his head. "I have a reputation to uphold, after all!"

"Yeah, wouldn't anyone to think you were actually fun or anything!" Alfred teased with a playful grin.

"Yes, and being fun requires idiotic behavior, which explains perfectly why you are viewed as being fun by the majority of our peers!" Arthur replied, equally playful in his response.

"Whatever, Artie! If I was really an idiot, you'd've given up on me a looong time ago!" Alfred laughed. 

It was a little past one in the morning when Arthur began to wonder if Alfred's words from earlier in the night were true. Alfred was currently hanging off his shoulders, far past drunk and singing along to Toto's "Africa" as loudly as possible into Arthur's ear. The Brit huffed, trying his best not to stumble as he walked awkwardly to his car with Alfred still latched onto him. 

"Alright, alright, get in the car. You're going home," Arthur commanded, opening the door to the backseat for the American. 

"No way! I can—'m fine, man! 'Nother round!" Alfred slurred loudly. 

"Keep your voice down, you'll wake up the whole street!" Arthur admonished despite being aware of the loud music still blasting from the house. 

"'M not goin' home, man! My folks'll, like, totally kill me!" 

"Well, you shouldn't have gotten drunk if you didn't wanna deal with the consequences of your actions," Arthur said as he shrugged Alfred off and turned to face him, fixing him with a stern look. 

Alfred shuffled closer then, leaning in. Arthur took a step back, hitting his car. Alfred stumbled forward a step, placing his hand on the top of the car to steady himself. "But that's why I got drunk, so I could kiss ya without worrying about the consequences," he said in a low tone, ducking his head down. 

Arthur's heart began to beat rapidly and he almost leaned in, only to pause when he realized what he was doing. Unthinking, he clamped his hand over the American's mouth, making the taller male freeze, blue eyes widened in shock. 

"Y-You're way too drunk, obviously," Arthur said, carefully pushing the American back. "You can stay at my place for tonight if you're that worried about getting caught, but I won't allow you try things like that on me again."

Alfred paused. Then, looking somewhat dejected, he ducked down into the car and flopped into the backseat. Breathing a sigh that was both relieved and disappointed, Arthur turned around and carefully shut the door behind the American. Afterward, he got into the car and endured Alfred's obnoxious singing for another ten minutes before he finally reached his home. 

"Dude, I always forget how fucking big your house is. That bitch is huuuuuuuge," Alfred hollered as he clambered out of Arthur's car and attempted to stumble up the steps to the Brit's front door. 

Arthur quickly turned off his car and rushed after the American, grabbing his arm and helping to guide him the door. After fumbling with his keys for a moment, during which Alfred hummed the Jeopardy theme song, the pair was inside and stumbling awkwardly up the grand staircase that lead to the second floor. 

"Dude, like, don'tcher parents care that I'm wasted as fuck?" Said Alfred. 

"They've been away on business in London for a week now, and will be for another three, so they'll never know. Even if they were here, I can't imagine they would care all that much. As long as I grow up to be successful, they don't care what I do." Arthur said nonchalantly. 

"Who takes care of you?" Alfred asked, looking shocked. 

"I take perfectly good care of myself!" Arthur huffed indignantly, shoving open the door to his bedroom. 

"Nah, l-like, emotionally, man! Like, when you're sad and stuff. I mean, like, y-yer folks're always gone, so who helps ya?" 

Arthur paused a moment before answering. "I can do that myself, too," he muttered. 

Alfred took Arthur by the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer until they were practically pressed against one another. "I can take care of you," he said, a surprising amount of seriousness in his glazed-over eyes. 

"Not when you're this far gone," Arthur replied with a roll of his eyes. "Now, come. Lay down, and make sure you're on your side." 

Alfred did as he was told, flopping down onto Arthur's bed. After clambering around for a moment in a clumsy attempt to get under the covers (which Arthur watched with amusement) he turned on his side and burrowed down underneath the covers. "Artie, you smell good." 

"Go to sleep, git," Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. 

"Fuck, dude," was the first thing that Alfred said when he woke the next day to Arthur setting a glass of water down on the bedside table. 

Arthur raised on thick brow at him, green eyes twinkling with thinly veiled amusement as the American sat up, groaned, and promptly downed all the water in one go. Once the American set the glass down, he flopped back down upon Arthur's bed. 

"Dude, you're a total lifesaver, y'know that? I owe you." He said as he threw his arm over his eyes to block out the sun. 

"Trust me, love, your current suffering is more than enough in the way of repayment." Arthur chuckled as he set a plate of charred eggs down in front of Alfred. 

Alfred sniffed, slowly looking toward the plate. His stomach churned at the sight of the blackened food, and he resisted the urge to make a face. Instead, he conjured up what he hoped was a believable excuse: "thanks, man, but I'm totally sick right now from last night. Don't think I can eat anything." 

Arthur nodded, accepting this answer. "Alright," he said.

"Hey, Arthur?" Alfred said.

"Yes?" The Brit asked. 

"I wasn't kidding, you know."

Arthur frowned in confusion. "What?"

"What I said last night. I got drunk so I could flirt with you without feeling like an idiot." Alfred said, meeting Arthur's eyes as he spoke. 

The Brit felt his heart stutter, pausing in his motions in order to stare in astonishment at the American. He intended to reply and allowed his mouth to fall open, but found himself unable to produce any sound as he gazed upon the man he'd fallen madly in love with. 

"And I meant it when I said that I would take care of you, too. I know you don't want me, but if you ever change your mind—" 

Arthur jolted back to life at this, interrupting the American. "Hold on, now! Don't want you? Where in the hell would you get an idea like that?" 

Now it was Alfred's turn to be surprised. "I mean, I tried to kiss you yesterday and you put a hand over my mouth, so..." 

"Because you were drunk! What kind of man would I be if I took advantage of you when you were so wasted? From the way you were acting, I didn't think you'd remember much of anything about last night!" Arthur exclaimed in shock. 

"So you do like me?" Alfred asked then, an adorably hopeful look on his face that made Arthur melt. 

The Brit felt heat rising to his cheeks and he nodded slowly. "God, you really are an idiot if you haven't noticed the fact that I've been a bloody fool for you all this time." Arthur teased. 

Alfred laughed in return and crawled to the end of the bed, grinning at the man. "You won't stop me if I try to kiss you now, will you?" He asked. 

Arthur responded by taking his collar and wrenching him forward into a passionate kiss. 

[icouldntthinkofabetternamesook]

#i cannot believe you called alfred an idiot lmao#especially when that whole arc#he just liked seeing Bruce happy#after a lifetime of grief#and didn't want to ruin that#i felt like that was very understandable#and sympathetic#even if he didn't go about it the right way#concerning the rest of the family#like yikes what the hell man#also there fandom goes again#blaming dick for everything#sometimes i wonder if i should even bother

The thing that gets me about Ric Grayson is that when Bruce lost his memory a couple years ago, everyone bent over backwards to give him an idyllic life. Including Dick, despite Bruce being his only connection while he was an a dangerous undercover mission while everyone thought he was dead. But the family can't even give Dick the courtesy of waiting until his bandages are removed to try to press him into service again. I'm sure it's been said before, but it annoys me every time I think of it.

Jesus, I hadn’t even thought about that. But you’re so right. Seeing Alfred gently talking Bruce through his history: 

Batman (2011) #43

And allowing him to make the choice to do what he wishes with his life, even if that means no longer being Batman, no longer even knowing about Batman and living with that weight, no longer being there for his own children...hell, Alfred even encouraged that choice, and everyone bended over backwards so that that could happen, wanting Bruce to be happy first and foremost. And he got to be an amnesiac billionaire, with all the money in the world, a fancy house, etc. 

And take that in comparison to Dick, who, yeah, is still in recovery, being taken down to the Batcave and abruptly told he was Nightwing and shown that video of him being shot in the head...unlike with Bruce, there is zero consideration about “what’s best for Dick here?” and “what would he want?” and “what does he need right now?” They really were just like, welp, have to get Nightwing back on the streets ASAP and this is the fastest way to do it. Don’t care if it might hurt him to make that happen. 

Nightwing (2016) Annual #2

Nightwing (2016) #50

With his family’s main concern being that the guy who was just shot in the head isn’t there for them when they need him...and then he’s homeless and alone. Literally night and day. Big yikes man.