#like the distinction between Bruce and Batman is so clear and fucking wonderful

[campfiretaxidriver]

I’ve been watching Batman:the animated series while knitting/crocheting, mostly because I watched this all growing up so a lot of it isn’t new to me so I don’t mind spending 90% of an episode staring at my hands on accident, but it really has reminded me just how much I loved Batman growing up, and WHY.

I love Bruce Wayne being a good, thicc, KIND man. Like the man is built like a refrigerator, but he is so soft for so much of it?? Offering to pay for a man’s legal fees, just so he can hear stories about his father??? Like he just wants to help people, so much, and if he can’t do it as Bruce he will try as Batman, like come hell or high water he’s going to try goddamnit!

Batman was just so…good. And maybe I’m just being hit by a freight train called nostalgia but it’s really nice to watch a man just be kind, be kind, be kind

[currentfandomkick]

Why Marinette Hates Tim

Marinette blames Tim next summer for all that happened. Why? He cursed her with a vague theory. And Max and her Both know give her a clue and she has to follow it to solve the puzzle—a fatal flaw for her, Puzzler, Hero Stalker (Tim), Riddler and her father, Professor Strange (even if he is using an alias and supposedly dead as far as legal documents go).

Hero Staker Tim swore he’d become Robin if the current one left. It was a joke between them, she thought. Then he vanished the next summer, the first one where there wasnt any Robin mentioned anywhere. It was eery.

Then, then Timothy Drake, heir to some company-who looks a lot like her Hero Stalker—is a Wayne. And there’s a new Robin. This... deeply bothers Marinette. Why? New Robin seeks her out and talks a lot like Hero Stalker. And has a too similar movement pattern and tells.

And wasnt Hero Stalker Tim from a rich but high on neglient at best family? Didnt that happen to Timothy Drake before ending up as a Wayne?

Her that puzzle peice was central to figuring this out and goddamnit. Frost, who hates gossip, told her to just look up the rich families with kids Hero Stalker’s age and see who looked like him and to leave from to his lab and antidotes already.

Frost accidently gave her the vital method to see if Hero Stalker was that dumb to be become Robin after Robin the Second (Jason) was brutally murdered. The answer was yes.

And now Marinette had a crisis. She knew Batman’s identity was Bruce Wayne. How? Tim calls Bruce his dad. New Robin slipped and called him dad. And Tim is New Robin since Tim is Hero Stalker and no one else came close to looking like Hero Stalker from the data pool which involved more hacking than she ever thought she would do.

Marinette, a child, figured out who Batman was by age 9 becuase his new Robin/former Stalker was too obviously himself. She is embarrassed on his behalf, and honestly debates asking Riddler to separate him and Bats in a non-lethal puzzle trap just to lecture him. Becuase what the fuck Hero Stalker! If she can figure it out, then everyone else can too! Probably(?) likely. Either way its bad!

She doesnt though... Riddler puts together she’s concerned for the new Robin, traps Bats in a different puzzle maze from Robin, who is stuck with a grounded Marinette. Why was she grounded, easy. She got caught returning stolen jewlry on camera. It was punishment for failing basic stealth—always take out any witness.

And instead of pointing out she knows who Bats is, she tells him to work on a different persona since ‘i made you weeks ago. Its pretending to be someone you’re not completely is all. I have to do that around Maman and Papa all the time, and whenever i go out with anyone really. Up your secret identity game already!’

Riddler is busy with Bats and didnt do cameras. Why? “Im not redesiging a perfectly good grounding maze every time. They take time and i dint always have it. Its time economics Batman. I dont know what our lovely Princess said or did to your Robin. He’s fine though, see? No major injuries.”

Tim relized Marinette knew Hero Stalker was batman’s new Robin. This meant one thing—he could still help her and the RKC now! Why? He knew even if they made him out, they want to help people and never be like their parents, duh. And if they added to his budding information network with incredibly accurate information so long as he didnt rat them out to Batman, its fine.

Afterall, Pixie Pop wants to help poeple and is working the rouges into vigilantes to help more than hurt, and is doing a great job of it for the most part. So if Pixie Pop is Princess who’s the maybe kryptonian and her powers align with that theory, so what? Superman has an heir already and a bio!son too, apparently. Lois didnt tell him since they werent together then and yeah. So really, Superman didnt need another kid, and Pixie Pop didnt want another dad—“i have Papa and Father and now four of my friends’ dads in Paris called dibs on partial custody. I have more dads than i need for a quartet. That is far too many dads and i refuse to get another one!”

Then Marinette is talking to Alix and finds out about an old director at the Lourve her dad knew, Diana Prince. Marinette was working on a Wonder Woman inspired outfit, and knew her history of Wonder Woman thank you. Its just...

Wonder Woman appeared just after Miss Prince Left. And from the videos Alix sent of her new hero, she was terrifyingly similar to Wonder Woman. Not only did they look alike and have the same hair style preference, it was the same face if she did facial recognition with Markov, her robot son with Max. Then there was gait, generao stances and how she interacted with men and women so differently as both people and damnit. Same person.

She curses Hero Staker Tim for this. She now has to hide two hero identities. Why her?

The third was debatably Ivy and Harley’s fault, but defiantely still Tim’s. Why? He was the one that got her hooked on Barry Allen’s cases, and pointing out that he didnt see meta as bad or evil but as people who can be good or be civilians peacefully. That, she needed that with how much vitrol she had to swallow about her powers indirectly from everywhere but her school and some parts of Gotham.

In her defense, she is a nerd here. A nerd. So realizing the The Flash is also the forensics guy from Central City that she kinda follows on all her social medias, watches the cases of unfold, and knows has a reputation for being late a lot like her but is still well liked. So she may fangirl about his cases with Hero Stalker erm. Tim now, still.

And if one day she managed to pout at her father enough to get him to agree to let her go with Harley and Ivy to Central City for a few days to see the meta museum they just opened up (technically the Flash Museum, but Marinette didn’t care. It was focused on metas not being horrible and that meant a lot to her scared, meta closeted butt).

And then her favorite forensic investigator, The Barry Allen, shows up? Best day ever. He’s nice! And concerned about how much of his cases she knows. Its not her fault this time though! Hero Stalker—Tim—sent her a case of his that went cold and she liked his science and yeah. New hero added to her listpersonal heroes list.

Harley isn’t even mad, just amused as Marinette fangirls over someone that isnt her and Barry has no clue how to respond as a tiny child know him as Barry Allen and thinks he’s awesome? Why?? He is happy but so confused and Iris is dying until Marinette cites cases that she shouldnt know about and tiny child why, how, when and where did you get that information!

The only answer is a friend likes cold cases and has no qualms hacking to find interesting ones, if he’s stumped then Marinette (Jill Smith mr. allen sir!) gets to try. And she is good at it since she can ask an officer in France (officer Raincomprix) about logistical things, common error margins and then puzzle it all out herself from there.

Somewhere she mentions absently that her mom doesnt like her science-y side since her dad was a bad person and liked science but she still likes learning and helping, even if the family buisness is food and service and they want her to either take over or become a designer. She’s thinking maybe for people woth disabilites so she can do more mental work and toy with hiw things bend and move and such.

Iris and Barry are ConcernedTM and debating how to get custody, or get her away from her mom or both. Probably both—no science allowed for a clear science obssessed kid is a red flag for bith of them that somethinf is very wrong. Harley and Ivy wave it off as “trust us, her mom aint budging.”

then the Flash is needed because of some gorilla—Marinette was more focused on an outfit on display and muttering over aerodynamics and friction. Barry is Concerned (smart kid, likes helping, potentially a league ally?) before he bolts, determined to get more on her when he returns and possibly see if he can get cps involved.

Marinette only notices that her hero moving so fast and oh god she did it again damnit! That was superspeed. And only one speedster had similiar measurements, the Flash.

She cant even tell Hero Stalker now because he’s Robin and the Justice League would Flip if they knew she knew 3 of their hero’s identities. She just hit her head and said “i did it again!” Harley pats her head while Marinette burrows into her because why is she a danger to the Justice League and secret identities! She doesnt want to be or to know damnit!

Tim sneezes in the distance and wonders who’s talking about him behind his back this time. He messages batgirl about this bad feeling he has and she laughs it off as the boy developing Batman’s paranoia.

Her Fourth solve was Green Arrow. It was an accident! She swears. She just saw oliver queen with a bow and arrow in a video shooting. and noticed he had a very distinct and familiar style to someone but not who. Then compared it to various archers as her brain was nagging. Then saw a green arrow video and cursed herself again then Tim five more times.

She sent a message to Rose asking why she’s a danger to all secret identities. Rose tells her it is her curse for being too damn smart and not leaving things alone.

Marinette tries reallly hard not to figure out the next one. But really, it should have been an earlier solve and she’s mad at herself for missing it for so long, even if it was more aviodance than denial.

Admittedly this one should have been an earlier solve, but she was very little when she found out about the surgery and everything and it was uncomfortable damnit! So she did what any reasonable child would. Ignore it. Then she went over the file to see if maybe she could possibly target parts of the kyptonian DNA in her to weaken it. And saw who the intended donor was, Clark Kent, a reporter that has impossible luck with big hero scoops, is never injured or rescued, and never been sick. He also looks like... one quick photoshop of his glasses onto superman with a clothing change and she sees her usual disguise technique on goddamn superman. She is overwhelmed with this as ‘oh god superman will kidnap me if he finds out!’ And hides from him whenever he’s in the region—be it France or Gotham.

Her friends think its hilarious, Marinette feels sick from it. She doesnt like this and is genuinely scared for her life and family’s safety now. And we all know how nervous marinettes are.

If at one point batman tried to talk to her on patrol and somewhat suceeded. As in, she spoke beofre bolting.

“I didnt figure out who boyscout and amazon and boltbrain and arrowhead are! Or you and the batfam! Bye!!!!” Yes, clearly Marinette can lie very well.

Batman sees through it and feels sick. He forces a league meeting asap and fills them in.

“this kid put five of our identities together and cant even lie. We need to recruit them.”

“Batman, is this that kid KF mentioned to me?”

Batman nodded. Flash sighed. “Okay. We are on a manhunt for a kid kyptonian that is terrified of all of us, very smart, and may have an active gotham villain as a parent. And somehow knows me and—wait. bats, do you have any pics of your rogues in civilian clothing? I need to test a theory...”

A few minutes later and “oh my god that little kid i met as a civilian figured me out!”

A few days later Flash finds her by acccident as a civilian kid in broad daylight on her own in Central. He doesnt show he knows she knows, And finds out she’s waiting for her babysitter to finish a class.

Flash just asks about a case he put together as Barry Allen that she might know about and...

“Uh, mr. Flash? Why are you asking me? The lead florensics was Barry Allen.”

He tries insulting Barry Allen—he’s late and sloppy and—

only for Marinette to defend him to the death. “He’s late because he stays up late working on other cases. Appearances and organizational skills arent what matters with his expertise mr. flash! He even foghts for metas to have their circumstances and powers impact on them considered dueing sentencing!”

Flash is very touched and shocked. only then he manages to get out of her that where she lives (france) being meta is a life sentence to “a living zombie And jail-time for being born a lot, even if it is t in normal prisons. And you know what? Mr. Allen stated so many times that you need to contextualize powers and abilities and intent in his testimonies for meta cases. Back home youre put in prison for defending yourself...” she tugs at her sleeve here.

“Maman screamed at me when she found out a few kids were getting stalked and i helped out and someone got it on tape. Not becuase my powers showed or anything—father made a treatment so they dont, well, they stay off when i use them and follow all the behavior and environmental rules so they cant put me in one of the centers. But she, she’s stills cared someone will try to check me for abilities back in France, and that she’ll lose me. She doesnt always realize i have them until things like that happen...”

Flash is desperately trying not to adopt her. Wally would love a little sister, and Superman has enoguh kids, Bats does too. he is oreventing arrow form having another one as she’s powered and that isnt a good when working with Green Arrow unless the meta is his girlfriend. And the girl loves science—come on!

batman, Green Arrow, Wonder Woman and Superman heard the Feance bit over comms and suddenly it hit them that the kid could be in danger for existing and that an entire country villified being meta to an extreme. That the girl is in hiding and probably using an alias constantly. Batman mentally adopted her ages ago and is now in Worried Dad mode like Flash and apparently Superman was falling into it too. Wonder Woman is in righteous rage mode and ready to fight france herself if she has to—no imprisoning metas for being metas!

Flash decided to be direct since he knew she trusted him as Mr. Allen and knows he’s Flash.“So, am i allowed to know which powers you have?”

Marinette shook her head, visbily distressed and floating skightly. “If, if they ever find out i cant. I cant risk Maman and Papa and Father. I dont know everything but Father only started being a good person after the, the incident where he had to go into witness protection. Maman is dead as far as a lot of people are concerned, or she never existed. Papa doesnt know about any of it. I cant. I cant risk what they worked for by being outted.”

Flash is very concerned. “Thats a lot of pressure to put in yourself, especially at your age.”

marinette didnt make eye contact then. “I have to. If i dont people can connect dots and dashes and blips. Father says its easy for him too and that possibilities are just what we’re both hardwired for but. But i shouldn’t catch as many as i do—my teachers keep saying i need to dial it back and stop catching on so fast and blurting it all out but, i just...” marientte is visibly drowning under the pressure to act not-meta and keep her family safe.

“Sounds like youre a real smart kid.”

“Smart kids dont get caught.” She meant herself with her jewlry returns, Flash thought she meant the JL, and tried to redirect the conversation.

If the JL was out then...

“If you cant tell me, can you at least tell me you have someone to talk to about these things?”

“Auntie Quinn and Rose. Rose doesnt like you guys though.”

Flash laughed a little at that. “Alright, fair enough. Who made her mad? Was it arrow?”

“Batman.” Marinette frowning as she said the enxt bit. “Something about her being given to someone that should never be allowed bear children? She rants a lot so i cant always keep up.”

Batman internally bangs his head against a table. Outwardly, he says “Ivy’s daughter, rose. That girl, she’s the Princess.”

The assemebled winced. They all pushed for Rose to be sent toback to her mother, Ivy, since they didnt trust her with any available mentor and Ivy was usually a low ranking Gotham eco-terrorist pacified by wayne gardens and green initiatives. Apprently Rose has a lot of sway over the Princess too.

Marinette changes the conversation while. Waiting for her babysitter, Ghoul, to leave class. She needs a distraction from her situation that the Flash was willing to give her.

“Can i look at the case again? Something doesnt add up... there! See? Its close to the Speedsters that leave marks at those angles but only if they really mess with the speed force and the spacetime continuum! But theres no evidence of that, its a lightning meta, Possibly using it to teleport since no one came in or out on camera. Its a slight angle and all but...”

Flash decides Marinette will join the Justice League one day or so help him! He also decides to target france’s anti-meta policies and possibly kidnap Marinette.

The League isnt letting him. But he has a fan of Barry Allen who is handling Gotham’s criminals and beign given slack by them... albeit also raised by in-part. But the girl has a strong moral compass that is a lot like most of League’s so.

He’s fighting Bats for custody on principle. His fangirl, he has dibs!

Dont know why it ended up with Flash becoming a ‘Marinette is my daughter now’ person but why not? Wally would like her as a sister, probably.

Marinette blames all of this and the future consequences on Tim. She hates her vanishing freind for this.

[badacts]

crack in the ceiling/where the light bleeds in

Jason has a problem. Tim solves it because that’s his job in this family. Also on ao3.

The effects of the Lazarus Pit don’t last forever. Just ask Ra’s.

The thing is, Jason thought that might be a problem he’d have to deal with later. Like, ‘towards the end of a natural human lifespan’ later, in the event that he reached old age in his round two at all. Instead, he’s twenty-four, and he’s pretty sure he’s dying.

Or worse, not dying. It wasn’t, after all, the Lazarus Pit that brought him back to life. It just restored the function of his brain and everything that makes him himself along with it. Which he now seems to be losing.

So far, the extent of his problem-solving has been some quiet questions about the Lazarus Pits that still exist and also determinedly not saying anything to any of the bats. Of course, keeping it on the down-low from them precludes acting crazy in front of them.

Which is why, when the becoming-familiar need to puke comes over him while he’s working a case with Nightwing, he bolts.

“The hell?” he hears from behind him. “Red Hood!”

Jason ignores him, rapidly regressing from ‘feared vigilante’ to ‘scared animal’. By now, he knows the drill: first, the faint roll of nausea, followed by confusion, and then the visual hallucinations. Sometimes he hears shit, too. Then it’s followed last of all by the pain of his brain trying determinedly to break itself apart.

Pain is just electrical impulses. A reaction of the body - just the workings of fancy machinery, or maybe fancy meat. It’s the other stuff that scares the shit out of him. Particularly the shivering loss of control.

He can’t afford it. He can’t ever, ever afford to lose control.

He goes to one of his quieter places, with the entrance through a slanted skylight on the roof. His hands feel a thousand miles from his head as he fumbles through setting the security system. His vision is sparking, bubbles of light bursting and then dimming again too slowly.

The sliver of rational thought left to him wonders if this time will be the one he can’t come back from, but the rest of him is consumed by the need to get somewhere dark and quiet and just wait. He takes off his boots and the too-heavy outer layers that are chafing at his skin and setting his nerves on fire. Once he’s mostly stripped down, he lowers himself cautiously onto the mattress in his windowless bedroom.

In the dark, with his eyes closed, it’s almost like having a stomach bug, if he discounts the sense of impending doom. He breathes, and breathes, and determinedly doesn’t lose it.

*

He wakes with a start when the lights come on overhead. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes, and the resultant bolt of pain drags a sound disturbingly close to a whine from between his teeth.

“Fuck,” someone says, too loud. “Jason?”

Jason doesn’t reply, forcing an arm up to cover his eyes. The return of the darkness helps, but it also makes him aware that he’s breathing too fast. He wishes he could stop: it hurts.

“Photosensitivity,” Tim says more quietly, either narrating the work his big brain is doing, or, in a more likely scenario, telling the others exactly what’s wrong with Jason. “Rapid respiration. Nausea, if I had to guess.”

Fingers ghost over his brow, and then prod less gently at his chest and abdomen. He flinches away from the touch to his belly. “ Don’t .”

“Diffuse abdo pain,” Tim says. “Don’t touch? Sorry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

He sounds awfully relaxed, for someone who’s in danger. Jason remembers vividly before - Tim underneath him, breathing blood, and the sick and overwhelming sense of victory that he had won out over his replacement. Not caring that the kid under him might die. Hoping for it.

He can’t blame the Pit for his thoughts, not really, but it can take some of the responsibility for his lack of inhibitions, control and morality. These days, he’s pretty happy that Tim Drake is alive and kicking. He really, really doesn’t want to be one to put him in a grave.

“Go away,” Jason grits out. Each muscle in his jaw feels like high-tensile wire.

“One moment,” Tim says, followed by the distinctive click of an earpiece being muted. “I’m not going anywhere, Jay.”

The desperation sweeps over him like a tide. Thirty seconds ago, he couldn’t have imagined moving. Now, he forces through that and lunges at Tim.

Then he’s face down on the floor and retching, not quite sure how he got there. His head -

“Easy,” Tim is crooning, like he might have been going for a while. It has to be a tone he learned direct from Dick. “Yes, thank you, B. That’s very helpful.” And that tone is the result of years of dealing with Batman. “ Yes, B.”

There are fingers at Jason’s sleeve then, pushing it up, and then a pinprick in Jason’s arm. Tim says, “Ondansetron administered. Give it a minute.”

Jason lies there, trying not to inhale his own sour breath, feeling the right side of his head throb in time with his heart, until his stomach actually starts to settle. It feels like fifty years - with his metabolism, it’s probably more like ten minutes. He empties a sigh into his floorboards.

“There you go,” Tim says. He sounds like he’s talking to the victim of a violent crime, not Jason. “I’m going to help you back onto the bed, okay?”

His hands wrap around Jason’s forearms, and he starts to pull Jason up. But wiry muscle aside, one hundred and fifty-some pounds of Tim doesn’t have a hope of moving Jason if he doesn’t want to be moved. And he doesn’t.

“...or not,” Tim says, and capitulates by settling a blanket over Jason - being careful to avoid trapping his arms - and then raising his head to settle a pillow underneath it. It’s not much movement, but it still makes stars go off behind Jason’s closed eyelids. He bites back another groan.

“Your head hurts, huh?” Tim asks, because he’s some kind of detective or something. Jason would roll his eyes if he could. “Have you been knocked out recently?”

“No,” Jason says, and then a fragment of his familiar refrain: “Helmet.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim’s definitely rolling his eyes. “What does it feel like? The pain?”

Jason presses his fingers into his right eye socket. Then he flicks them out to mime an explosion. “Throbs.”

He doesn’t need to see Tim to hear his metaphorical ears prick up. “Oh, shit. Did you see things, before it started to hurt?”

“Lights,” Jason admits. It’s less creepy than admitting that he also hears bubbling like boiling water, on and off, just quiet enough he can almost ignore it right before the pain kicks in. “They’re green.”

“Good,” Tim says, which absolutely wasn’t the response Jason expected. There’s more rustling, and then Tim says, “Little prick.”

“Fuck you,” Jason replies, letting Tim stick him with another needle, and then, when Tim snorts, “D’you have to do the clinic run too?” That was something he did once or twice when Bruce felt he needed the education - assisting Leslie at the clinic. Nothing makes you as appreciative of working on other bats as helping treat civilians. Normal people.

“Only when I really pissed him off,” Tim replies. “I’m going to roll you over now. Try not to puke on me.”

“Not gonna puke,” Jason replies, more out of stubborn will than any actual faith in himself. However, his stomach stays settled, though he keeps his eyes firmly closed.

“You’re lucky I brought my kit with me,” Tim mutters, more to himself than to Jason as he resettles the blanket. “What were you going to do next time you get a serious wound? Put a bandaid on it?”

Jason’s first aid kit is perfectly adequate, though maybe a little sparsely stocked right now. Normal people just don’t carry prescription anti-nausea medication on their person. Jason can’t think of a way to communicate that without moving his jaw, so he just gives an unamused huff.

There’s a ruffle of sound, and then the distinctive soft shick of someone pulling off their domino. “It’s just a matter of waiting it out now.”

“What?” Jason mumbles. He’s assuming Tim isn’t waiting for him to die - not even he would sound so cool about that - but he’s not entirely clear on what it is they’re waiting for, or doing, or what Tim just injected him with. It’s just that now the creeping anxious nausea has faded, it’s hard to worry about anything beyond the pain and the way his whole body feels like rocks shoved in a sack.

It’s the light - even through his eyelids, it’s uncomfortable. He’s just about to demand Tim turn off the overheads when a hand drops over his eyes, leaving him in blissful darkness.

“Sorry,” Tim says. “I need the light in case you actually are having an aneurysm. Do you get headaches like this a lot?”

Jason’s slightly offended by Tim calling it a headache. His brain is breaking. “Sometimes.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re having a migraine,” Tim says. “Have you been to a doctor?”

That question is frankly fucking laughable, and both of them know it. Jason mumbles, “I’m dead.”

“And as you like to tell us, you wear a helmet because you already died of head trauma once,” Tim says. “People with past TBIs are more likely to have migraines.”

“How’d I know that?” Jason’s slur doesn’t sound pissed off enough. Skipping the consonants hurts less though. “Didn’ finish high school.”

“Neither did I,” Tim points out.

“Nerd.”

“Loser.”

“Probably.” At least they’re in the same boat. “Migraine, huh?”

“Pretty sure,” Tim confirms. “If you were having a brain bleed, I reckon you’d be dead by now. Again.”

“Lazarus Pit. Thought m’head was broken,” Jason mutters faintly. He doesn’t mean to say it, would never admit it to Tim Drake in a million years. It’s just a moment of weakness.

“It is,” Tim replies, on the shadow of a laugh. “Not like that, though.”

*

The after phase is a real trip.

“Euphoria,” Tim observes. “Decrease in pain, plus all the dopamine your body has been pumping out - instant high. Same thing happens to new moms once they’ve pushed their babies out.”

“Thanks for that,” Jason rasps. He’s in bed now, though he’s working on blocking out how he got here. He’s already going to owe Tim for tonight, but he draws the line...right there. “Seriously, you can leave now.”

“No can do,” Tim replies. He’s still in his uniform, though he’s ditched the cape and the armed over-vest for just the pants and a slick-fabric undershirt. It makes Jason’s gear look clunky and old-fashioned by comparison. “I’m on baby-sitting duty.”

Not even the slow haze of hormones can dull the bite of irritation at that. “Fuck you.”

“To be clear, I don’t think you’re going anywhere right now,” Tim clarifies. “I’m just here for everyone else's’ peace of mind.”

“Anxious freaks,” Jason mumbles, though not unkindly.

“You can hardly blame them. It’s never a good sign when the Red Hood disappears without a word,” Tim says cheerfully.

Despite himself, Jason prickles. “They that worried for the safety of Gotham’s criminal element?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tim snorts. “They’re worried you’re going to get yourself killed. Again.”

Jason doesn’t have a reply to that. Sensing that, Tim continues, “I actually think you might be right about the Lazarus Pit. You thought it was wearing off, right?”

“Right,” Jason confirms after a moment, though grudgingly. Stupid detective brother.

“It might be,” Tim says. “Just enough for your brain to remember that it got seriously injured back then. Or you might have a different trigger. There’s something here about diarying your episodes and trying to figure out the causes from that.”

Jason doesn’t have to look to know Tim is scrolling through his phone where he’s sitting cross-legged on the mattress next to Jason. He said something brisk about being close enough to ‘monitor’ when Jason tried to shove him off, and he’d given up. His head doesn’t hurt anymore, not precisely, but he still feels wobbly-necked and fragile.

“Triggers?”

“Storms, specific kinds of food, stress,” Tim lists.

Jason opens his eyes specifically to give Tim a dubious look. “Stress?”

Tim looks back at him just as dubiously. “How many hours sleep do you get a night?”

“Fuck off,” Jason replies, and firmly closes his eyes again. Stress. Jesus Christ.

“I’ll get you a headache journal for Christmas,” Tim says lightly, and then, “So, why’d you try to beat me up?”

“I always beat you up.”

“Not tonight you didn’t. We don’t reward points for effort in Gotham.”

Oh. That attempt at beating him up. Jason mumbles, “Don’t know.”

“Whatever.” Tim can fit a lot of scorn in that tiny body of his.

“Maybe I just don’t want you around,” Jason snaps, sharp as he can make it right now.

Tim, predictably, rears back to give Jason one of his lizard-glares. It doesn’t last long though, fading into something a bit more evaluatory. He says, “You can’t make me leave.”

Jason sputters, caught between the desire to laugh derisively and the desire to get up and shove Tim out the window he came in through. Before he can pick, Tim lays down on top of the bedcovers on the empty side of the mattress.

“Hey, this bed is really comfy,” he says, as though he isn’t constantly being found asleep on hard non-bed surfaces across Gotham. Jason once found him napping on a rooftop.

“I’ll give you the website of the place I got it off if you go away,” Jason attempts.

“Like I couldn’t find it myself,” Tim scoffs, scrunching himself down into Jason’s pillows. “Hey, pass me that blanket?”

“No,” Jason replies, pulling the blanket in question tighter about himself. It’s his favourite, warm and soft, and the weight of it on top of him is already making him sleepy despite Tim’s rudeness.

“It’s okay, I don’t need one anyway,” Tim says.

“Seriously, go away.” What is the world coming to? The only brother Jason should have this much trouble getting rid of is Dick.

“Babysitting, remember? And when baby sleeps, so does sitter.” Tim pats kindly at Jason’s blanket-covered elbow. Jason kindly doesn’t strangle him for it.

Yet. He doesn’t do it yet. Because there’s a tickle of nervousness in the pit of his belly about having someone else sleep so close to him, and not out of fear for his safety, either. That on top of his incomplete acceptance of Tim’s migraine theory has him lying stiff in his blankets when Tim finally reaches over and flicks the lights off.

“Big spoon or little?” Tim asks, which surprises Jason so much that he actually laughs. “Go to sleep. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

“Did WebMD tell you that?”

“Nah. Everything is just always better with more sleep,” Tim replies, and then yawns. “Shh.”

Jason manages about five minutes of his commitment to stay awake while Tim’s breathing slows and evens out next to him. He’s warm and comfortable and his head doesn’t hurt anymore, and he might not be dying or going crazy after all. The closer he gets to sleep, the easier it is to believe.

He’s nearly asleep himself when Tim, sounding far more awake than Jason would have expected, says, “I’m not scared of you.”

He probably should be. That said, they’re Robins - not scared of much. Jason mumbles, “Go to sleep,” and promptly follows his own command.

[fourthwingingit]

Two

Edit: tumblr didnt post my edits from my original post (like you know when you save something as a draft and go oh wait there are some errors like no header and awkward phrasing lemme fix them) so im gonna repost this eventually but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit 2: tumblr sucks and never lets me put the thing so... This is for the anon who requested a fic of touch starved clark and conner with the prompts 'nobodys ever done that to me before' and 'i just want to be held' sorry it got angstier then i ment it to.... hope you like hurt comfort

Clark hovered awkwardly outside the door to conners room. He was nervous about seeing the teen with everything between them and what he wanted to ask him.

He took a breath. Conner almost certainly knew he was there already. But that didnt matter.

Ma always said that manners matter

He knocked.

From inside came a muffled, annoyed, and clipped

"What is it clark?"

Taking that as the best invitation he was going to get he opened the door and went in.

He looked at conner. The kid was on his bed, facedown on top of the covers like an angsty teen in a movie.

Clark thought he looked too small for the position he was in. Like he was waiting for some blow that was going to take a part of him with it to land... or like it already had and he was cradling a hole

Clark shook off the disturbing thought and steeled himself. He swiftly walked to Conner's bedside, and said, eloquently,

"Well. I... you see...... uh... lois- i mean to say..... uhh"

Lord this was already going to hell in a handbasket.

Conner turned his head enough to raise one eyebrow

"What the hell was that?"

He sat down a respectful distance away (as far away as he could) and tried again

"Hmm... you see i uhh- hmm you know how uhh.... things umm. Sometimes.... uhh"

Conner slowly turned his head the rest of the way to clark, confusion now written in every line in his body. great.

Clarks back bowed fast. Like his head gained 20 pounds in a half a second, his arms planted themselves on his knees and he gave up trying... he'd try again some other day. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe lois should do it.... Kal-el you coward.

"I... i dont know, ive got nothing."

But now he was scrambling, he needed a reason for being here. And what came out was;

"Ma told me shes uhh, seen you acting in a... less than..... ideal...... kind of.... way.?"

"Wow."

"No yeah i heard it"

"That was some next level awkward," and there was some distinct venom in that voice shoot. "if its that hard to be around me then you can find the door. I certainly dont need your pity handouts anyway."

Well.... shit

"No thats not.... im.... i wanted to ask- uh... whats been bothering you..... sport."

He now had what bruces kids called The Awkward White Man Smile... great.

Suprisingly, Conner chuckled.

Maybe a small part of Clark's brain said its not hopeless?

"Right now? Your social skills."

Banter! He hung around batman! He could do banter.

"Aww man and here i was thinking i was handing out winning lines."

"Oh no, youve gone senile a little early, well... maybe not early... good thing you've got Kara."

There was a small smirk playing at conners lips and an actual opportunity. God was real and he loved Clark Kent.

"At least I know I have two good boys to pick me up after im down." He looked away fast.

Silence stretched on

.......

Awkwardly

Oh lord he messed up the moment

He presumed too much and their only friendly interaction in over a month is ruined

"Two?"

The voice Conner used was so painfully soft and small. Like it didnt dare to hope anymore and had stopped trying a long time ago.

Clark never was good at leaving voices like that alone. And he was always more comfortable when something needed doing anyways.

Superman courage steadied him enough to take a risk.

He reached out his hand, and ruffled Conner's hair, trailing his fingers down after to rest on the shoulder closest to him and said.

"I have two kids dont i?"

More silence

Conner was frozen beneath his fingertips

He panicked

Oh god

He had fucked it up

He had fucked up enough times that conner didn't want anything to do with him

Okay damage control

"That is...." Conner stiffened further "if i haven't been so horrible to my eldist that he doesnt want anything to do with me"

The silence was now so deep he could hear the dust motes brushing against everything

He heard a tiny sniffle

And then he telltale sound of tears hitting bedsheets.

His head whipped around, his glasses flew off somewhere into the room. He barely noticed.

Shocked, he started to speak but Conner cut him off before he could finish the first syllable.

"You know when i was in Hawaii i used to watch families. Specifically parents and children. I'd be so jealous of-"

Conner cut himself off.

"Nobody's ever- i mean...... parents do that to their kids.... the hair touching thing.... Nobody's ever-" his voice broke, he cleared it. "Nobody's ever even tried to touch my hair if we werent kissing."

He gave a pitiful, watery laugh and, after a breif, stunned, pause, started rambling about how "of course i get it cut, like, the barber touches it and stuff..."

And it all hit clark.

Somehow it had never occured to Clark, that even though Conner looked like he was so much older than Jon, he wasnt.

He wondered who raised him

Who fed him

Who hugged him through nightmares

Clarks heart broke

Because he was certain the answer to most of those kinds of questions was 'Conner' and none of them were "Kal-el" or "Clark Kent"

Clark turned a bit and ran his hand over Conner's back softly, cutting off his rambling and said in a voice that was somehoe warm but still felt guilty and mourning;

"What do you want? What can I do?"

Conner was stunned. Kal had never given him anything like this. So he kept talking to give his brain time to catch up.

"I don.... i- i used to watch families... in- in Hawaii, and I'd get jealous of the kids, that they got to have families. Got to have parents. I dont..."

Clark turned a little to properly face his son and grabbed his hand.

"What can i do Conner?"

One day ago Conner would have asked for a lot. To never see Kal again, the superman title, his spot in the JL, even some time with Jon. But now?

Conner shifted, he sat up as best he could. And guided Kals hand to the side of his face, through tear tracks, held it there for a second, and then slid it into his hair. All thr while leaning into it like it was the only support he needed.

"I just want to be held.... without expectations..... without titles or rules or anything in return."

Connor wouldnt meet his eyes, or look up from the bedspread during his request.

For the second time that day Clark's heart broke. But now he had something he could do.

He reached out with his other hand, guiding his son into his arms, and gently layed them down

He kept one hand on the back of Conner's head, stroking the strands there. And one hand on Conner's back slowly moving back and forth.

From the first point of contact, Conner's world narrowed to the hand Kal had put on him. And now, there was more. Now he was allowed to reach out. He wanted to get closer. To bury his face in Kals chest and curl up small. To let the world fall away around them. Until nothing existed but them. Holding each other forever.

Kal seemed to read his mind, and guided his head to tuck itself under his chin and pressed them closer together.

No promises, no strings, no obligations after.

He could leave whenever he wanted.

He wanted to stay forever.

Conner wondered breifly what was like to be held by a father. If it felt as nice as this. Like everything crashed in on him, but it was okay.

Maybe, he thought.

They had a maybe.

And this maybe was a lot of ground to stand on.

[bat-losers-inc]

Collisions in the Dark (Ch 22): Sudden Death

Warning: depictions of violence and violent language

Pairings: Jason Todd/Tim Drake and Tim Drake/Ra’s al Ghul

Summary: Ra’s makes good on his word and so does Damian.

Chapter Notes: Sudden Death: each player has a fixed amount of time available to make all moves

_______________________________________________________________________

“I dreamt of love with no war. No crime in the mouth or on the hands. What a lifetime with you meant when death was not whining at the foot of the bed or scratching at the door” — “ The Yard We Watered ”, Caitlyn Siehl.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Ra’s,” Tim warned, taking a cautious step forward around Jason’s side.  He moved his eyes from Ra’s to Dick. His brother tried to meet his stare with a calming expressing, but jerked his head back with a hiss as the pressure on his neck increased.

“Bastard,” he ground out through his teeth as his neck spasmed against the sharp edge of the blade.

Ra’s paid Dick no mind, his eyes still locked on Tim.

Tim stopped where he was, hands spread at his sides, suddenly feeling like he needed them to balance himself as everything around him took a sharp turn into hell.

“I warned you that I’m a man of my word, Timothy.” Ra’s said.

They knew that they might die tonight, he reminded himself but that didn’t make him any more willing to stand by and watch this happen. He had to try. He had to do something.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Tim,” Jason hissed, arms still raised, his gun locked on Ra’s. Tim knew without looking over his shoulder that Jason didn’t have a clear shot. Shooting through Dick to hit Ra’s wouldn’t even been a guarantee with the thick body armour of Dick’s suit. If it couldn’t pass through Dick’s suit, Jason would have put a bullet in Dick for nothing.

“No,” Tim didn’t look at him, just extended a hand behind him. A silent request for patience. Everyone just needed to stay calm. Otherwise this would spiral into a bloodbath very quickly.

“What do you think you’re going to gain from this?”

Tim eyed Bruce out of the corner of his eye. He was sure Batman had a plan up his sleeve. That just left Tim with the question of why the hell wasn’t he doing anything?

“I believe I’m going to dispose of those who’d keep you from me. Once and for all.”

“And guarantee that I’ll despise you for the rest of my life.” said Tim.

Ra’s sighed. “Why do you feel the need to have this conversation over and over again, Detective? The answers won’t change. I find it so tiresome.”

Tim’s lips twitched upwards with the hint of a smile. “Honestly, me too. But it did give him a few more seconds.”

Tim pointed at the ground where Bruce was stretched out.

Ra’s jerked his gaze down right as Bruce fired his taser gun, the electrodes shooting out and puncturing Ra’s in his side.

Tim lunged forward and nearly slammed into the pair. He wrapped his fingers around the blade of Ra’s’ sword and pulled it towards him. It was painful—  and a stupidly easy way to injure his hands, as Ra’s’ blade cut through the thin leather on the inside of his gloves, but it was the only way he could see to protect Dick’s neck from being sliced open as Ra’s’ muscles seized under the electric currents.  

 Dick was already moving, shoving at Ra’s’ elbow from his side, even as Ra’s started to collapse onto one knee, Dick buckling with him. Tim stabbed his teeth deep into his bottom lip and planted his boot against Ra’s’ side, using it as leverage to yank harder on the blade. Ra’s’ hold loosened all at once, and sent Dick and Tim crashing to the floor.

Tim landed hard on his back. He hissed, hands cradled against his chest as he examined his bleeding palms. They would definitely need stitches. He could feel the blood as it made a squiggling trail down and around his wrists under the material of his gloves.

Above him, Ra’s dropped his sword, only to yank out the taser electrodes with a strangled cry. Tim stared up at him, trying to remind himself that this man was human, but it was hard to remember a fact like that when a taser to the chest barely seemed to affect him. Did he even feel anything? Ra’s took a moment to breathe hard, still hunched on one knee, before he regained his composure. His hand reached for his weapon again.

Jason fired two shots at the ground by the sword, but it didn’t seem to discourage Ra’s. He picked it up by the hilt and pushed to his feet, twisting the wrist of his sword hand like he was regaining feeling in it.

“On your feet. Now!” Jason barked at his family, taking two quick steps forward and angling in front of them.

Bruce had moved behind Dick and was hauling him to his feet.

More gunshots echoed off the walls of the room. Tim pushed himself off the ground. His palms left bloody half moons on the floor when he lifted them.

The distinct snap sound as the magazine of Jason’s gun emptied itself of its last bullet, followed quickly by Jason’s strained, “fuck”.

Tim didn’t even need to look. He threw himself sideways, coming to a skidding stop between Jason and Ra’s. Ra’s reined back, his sword poised to strike at the ready.

Tim, breathing hard, reached behind him and twisted his fingers around one of the straps of Jason’s thigh holsters where it clipped to his utility belt. Jason tried to shift around Tim, to fight beside him, but Tim gave his strap a harsh tug. The rough material rubbed the gashes in his hands and Tim couldn’t help the aggressive hiss that erupted from his mouth.

Jason paused in his movements, then stepped back behind Tim’s shorter form.

Tim grinned at Ra’s despite the pain and fatigue he was feeling. “You wouldn’t put a sword through me. Would you, Beloved?”

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you,” said Ra’s, “After all, I have a Lazarus Pit just a few floor below us. If you get in the way and get killed for it, I could always bring you back.”

“I used up my get out of jail free card bringing Jason back, remember?”

“You think I don’t have an assassin willing to give away theirs to bring you back? I could have it done easily.”

Tim knew he wasn’t exaggerating, but he wasn’t deterred. “You won’t. Put me in the Lazarus Pit and I might not come back the same. You wouldn’t take that risk.”

Ra’s eyed him. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

Ra’s stooped and placed his sword on the ground in front of him. Before Tim could wonder what he was playing at, Ra’s was already moving quick as a snake.

He grabbed Tim’s bo staff off the ground where Tim had abandoned it and swung it up and across his body. The effect was like taking a golf iron to the face. It caught Tim against his jaw and sent him crashing sideways into the wall.

Tim hit the ground hard on his side and coughed blood onto the stone floor. He tried to rise to his feet but only made it as far as his knees before his head spun and ached something horrible.

He heard more than saw what happened next in between his own wheezing breaths.

Jason’s aborted cry as he tried to come to his aid, only to be met halfway by Ra’s. The pummeling fight that erupted between them that sent computers and keyboards crashing to the stone floor. A single Q key bounced across the floor and came to a spinning stop in between Tim’s splayed hands. Tim dripped blood onto the piece of plastic as he knelt there blinking at it.

There were more sounds of shattering glass. Tim guessed it was the rest of the door being kicked in.

The scuffle of black clad feet moving in and out of Tim’s line of vision as Dick and Bruce turned to take on their new opponents. Someone in his family must have been standing guard over him, because no hands descended on Tim to drag him out of the room and lock him in a cell.

He wasn’t stupid though. He knew that this reprieve wouldn’t last long. His family was counting on him to be able to get back on his feet and defend himself.So Tim breathed hard against the throbbing pain in his head and pushed himself onto his feet. He stumbled backwards until he could brace himself against the desk at his back.

In front of him, his family were alternating attacks against Ra’s, each doing their best to fill the space made when the other was thrown to the side. The ninjas however, were an unwelcome distraction and therefore, it was Jason who took the brunt of Ra’s’ force, backed up against a wall, trading brutal blows to the face and gut. There was a thick trail of blood sliding down Jason’s upper lip from his broken nose. It mixed with his saliva so that when Jason snarled and jabbed at Ra’s’ eyes with his gloved fingers, he showed him his bloody smile.

Ra’s threw off his hands and grabbed Jason by the hair.

“He may have chosen you,” He yanked Jason’s head back at a harsh angle and spat the words against his cheek, “but I’ll be damned if he’ll keep you!”

Ra’s slammed Jason’s head into a computer screen. Once. Twice. Tim watched a crack form and widen in the dark glass, now stained with red, and then he was barreling into Ra’s from the side.

Ra’s’ hands were ripped away from Jason’s head. Jason cried out as a chunk of hair was ripped from his scalp.

Tim fell heavily on top of Ra’s’ chest and managed to pin one of his arms under his knee. He punched Ra’s in the face and was satisfied with the splatter of blood, but at this point he couldn’t tell if the blood was his own or Ra’s’.

Suddenly he was back in that alleyway where this all started, hearing Jason tell him to aim for the areas that would get the most blood. Jason didn’t try to stop him now. Tim struck again, and again, until he was whaling on Ra’s, trying his damnedest to beat Ra’s’ face into a bloody pulp.

Tim didn’t even realize Ra’s had managed to free his arm until suddenly his hands were wrapped around his throat. He had a strong grip. Tim could feel where his fingernails burrowed into his skin. In the end Bruce had to yank Tim backwards by the shoulders to pry him loose from Ra’s’ grip. His efforts earned Bruce a roundhouse kick to the face as a ninja slid into the empty space between Ra’s and Tim.

Tim rolled sideways to avoid being used as a doormat.

He found Jason with his eyes, slumped against a desk and looking like he’d just walked off the scene of a car crash. One side of his face was streaming a thick flow of blood from a nasty gash on his forehead.

“Jason.”

Jason’s head lolled towards the sound of his voice. His eyes fluttered open and closed, blood catching on his eyelashes. He was a sitting duck… lying there, stunned and waiting to be picked off.

Tim started to crawl towards him. Ra’s was moving too. A dagger in his hand.

“No,”Tim grabbed for him as Ra’s tried to rise. He caught Ra’s shirt and let his body go limp, his dead weight dragging on Ra’s’ arm. “You bastard. No.”

Ra’s shook him off with an aggressive hiss, but Tim grabbed for him again before he could fully pull away.

Ra’s turned on him so suddenly that Tim almost reared back. But there was nowhere for Tim to go. Ra’s latched onto Tim’s arm in kind and knocked him onto his back with a knee to Tim’s shoulder. His knee didn’t shift away afterwards, instead Ra’s pressed down with his full body weight, pinning Tim to the ground. In a horrific moment of clarity, Tim grasped for Ra’s’ leg all the while knowing that he’d never escape the joint lock fast enough.

With efficient and heartless speed Ra’s bent Tim’s arm back across his free leg. Over the background noises of knuckles and metal connecting with flesh, Tim heard the distinct popping sound of the tendons in his elbow tearing at the hyperextension and the sickening pain of his shoulder dislocating.

Tim screamed, his back arching off the floor.

Ra’s lowered himself over Tim’s panting form until his lips were touching Tim’s ear. Despite the intimacy of their positions, Ra’s voice was detached and cold.

“This is your last warning. Stay down.”  

Tim made a keening noise low in his throat as Ra’s released his arm. He curled up on his side and pulled his arm protectively against his chest, but the pain was still a heavy throb that radiated through his upper body. Tim pressed his cheek to the stone floor, trying to focus on anything else until it dulled.

He found himself locked in a stare with Jason, visible through the empty space between Ra’s’ arm and his side. His cries must have brought Jason back to the here and now.

It brought other’s too.

Ra’s flinched backwards and collapsed on the floor a moment later. Tim didn’t understand it until he saw one of Robin’s birdarangs sticking out of his shoulder.

Ra’s howled and tried to rise up, but Damian was already standing over Tim.

“I warned you not to fuck with my family, Grandfather. This is what happens when you don’t listen.”

He kicked Ra’s in the shoulder, pushing the blade in deeper for good measure.

Damian didn’t take the time to gloat. His hands were already shoving under Tim. “Get up, Drake. We’re making a run for the plane.”

Damian pulled Tim’s arm across his shoulders and they stumbling to their feet together. Cass cleared the way for them.

“Tim.” Jason and Steph had caught up with them in the hallway. Steph kept a firm hold on Jason before he went careening into Tim and Damian.

Jason reached out and pulled Tim closer to him with a hand against the side of his face, hissing in pain as they knocked foreheads with each other. Still, Tim nuzzled Jason’s cheek with his nose. It was hard to be gentle when they were both so injured.

“I’m alright. We’re alright.” he breathed against Jason’s cheek.

“Now’s really not the time, guys!” Steph glanced behind her at the rear of their little pack where Dick and Bruce were holding off their opponents. She managed to pull Jason back a few steps.  

“You can spoon each other on the flight home,” she panted under the weight of Jason’s larger form as she got them moving again. “And then maybe one of you can spoon me. This  constant almost dying trend we got going on is really not helping my anxiety problems.”

Tim could feel the huff of Damian’s breath against his neck as he pulled Tim along behind the pair. He couldn’t tell if it was from laughter or exertion. “Yeah, sure. We all get out of thing alive and I’ll even let you be the little spoon. Just keep moving.”

“Deal.” Steph called over her shoulder.

They staggered on.

[comicweek]

Thoughts: Titans 1x01 “Titans”

The premier of Titans is too boring to be bad, that requires risks not working out.

Titans 1x01 "Titans" Directed by Brad Anderson Written by Akiva Goldsman , Geoff Johns and Greg Berlanti

Roughly a month after launching DC Universe has premiered it’s first original series, Titans – after screening the first three episodes at NYCC last week. The series appears going on a weekly release schedule, which makes sense for a service with such a limited catalog. From a release standpoint, Titans may have been better served mimicking Hulu’s schedule where they release the first three or so episodes before dolling the rest out on a weekly schedule. The first episode of Titans, “Titans,” isn’t a very good pilot.  Not because of aesthetic or storytelling choices, which largely worked, but on a functional televisual level “Titans” is worse than bad: boring. “Titans” appears to be written as the first of a two part introduction paired with next week’s episode "Hawk and Dove." That structure isn’t bad per se but without the concluding chapter there is a distinct lack of catharsis or explanation for the viewer. “Titans” doesn’t articulate an operation theme or give insight to the series at large. The motif of isolation is evident through the direction Brad Anderson and Boris Mojsovski’s cinematography, but a motif is not a thematic statement. All “Titans” manages to do besides introducing three of the four characters in detail, is move the pieces around without a hint of the greater game.

Brad Anderson is a solid director jumping between film and TV, with his more interesting work being found in TV particularly with episodes on established series like Fringe, Treme, or the pilot like Almost Human. Overall he is a solid hand at action with good enough character chops that can establish a workable visual language for a series going forward. Which is why I find “Titans” to be so boring to be slightly confusing. Anderson and Boris Mojosvski (himself a solid cinematographer of television action) treat everything like it’s 2008 with how close they shoot everything. I’m sympathetic to the argument that tight medium and close ups help to visually isolate a character by restricting the larger environment, however, television has moved past those shots as the corner stone of televisual vocabulary. A brief interaction between Dick and his new partner, Amy Rohrbach, later on in the episode is more effective because of the longer medium shot that is used due to the focus on the actors blurring the dreary Detroit PD office space.

This style is successful when it comes to the episodes key action sequence, Robin taking down a group of criminals at a drug deal. The shot choice allows for a clear action reaction rhythm, and comic book feel. It isn’t the cleanest thing in the world – cgi smoke is added to hide the stunt work it seems – but it was an overall effective moment of storytelling. The rhythm gets the point across very clearly: Robin aka Dick Grayson has some anger issues. People aren’t going to like this more brutal take on the boy wonder, understandably since he has generally been shown to be the light hearted foil to brooding Bruce. The “Fuck Batman” line does play better in context.

Titans has chosen to start things in a tonally dark place. From Robin’s mental space, having separated himself from the unseen but felt Dark Knight over differences on how to do the “job” and the feeling he is becoming too much like old Bruce. To the overall horror genre that is being used to understand Raven’s story. It certainly gives the series writers something to build towards. The dark tone of the episode largely worked in relation to Robin and Raven’s story, a tad excessive at times when showing someone’s brains splattered on the floor. In an episode that gestures towards horror, the most brutal moments are actually the ones played for “realism” (Robin’s fight sequence and the remains of Raven’s mom.)

Where the tone falls short is how it is applied to everything in the episode. For Dick Grayson, moody detective in Detroit it makes sense. For Raven on the run and frightened of her own reflection, sure. Applying the same low mood lighting and limited natural light too Starfire’s plot does not work. While there is convergence in this episode between Robin and Raven, the Starfire c-plot is numb plotting as Anna Diop’s character wakes up outside Vienna Austria with no memory. She too is searching for Raven. While the episode primarily shuffles the character around the narrative board, Diop shows that she has the right physicality for the character. The superhero pose moments are just that, but the in-between ones as she explores spaces are excellent. Which helps to make underlighting her segments even more annoying.

The performances are overall fine. While he may be rubbing criminal faces into shards of glass, there is a Dick Grayson charm to Brenton Thwaites. Teagon Croft’s raven is given the least to do, consistently asked to play the scared little girl who will act as a redeemer for Dick in the long run. Croft isn’t given a chance to show much range. Anna Diop is perhaps the most interesting actor to watch of the bunch, even if her plot is just plot.

There isn’t much to really discuss as it relates to “Titans” narrative. It’s a lot of setup and introductions. Part of the boring feeling this episode gives off is due to the fade to black cuts used to shuffle between Dick, Raven, and Kori’s separate thread. It is an isolating tool but their overall lack of connection, before Dick and Raven meet, gives the episode a unwieldly elliptical feel. The pacing and structure of “Titans” is reminiscent  of the worse parts of Netflix original programing. At least with Netflix you can go to the next episode an try to achieve some amount of catharsis. As a first impression “Titans” is not a good one, I wouldn’t consider it “bad” but that’s because it hasn’t tried for anything in this first episode. A recurring element from most of the reviews out of NYCC said this first episode isn’t much and the series gets progressively better, but with how little this episode creates that will not be a hard task.