#saw this comic making rounds again on my tt

[xiewho]

i hope you dont wanna come down any time soon haha

[ragingbookdragon]

You Light The Spark In My Bonfire Heart

Kyle Rayner x Batbro One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I HAVEN'T HAD ANY WIFI ALL DAY BUT NOW I DO AND this is my new obsession and pair and you can tear it from my cold dead hands. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Kyle had an easy morning routine: get up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, workout, shower, drink protein shake, and draw. It was simple and effective, and helped him maintain a sense of normalcy that he didn’t always have when he was up in space. He typically started out with sketching small things, mostly faces and limbs from memory, the occasional suit redesign, then he’d get into the bigger works, drawing comic panels and the commissions he had. And while Kyle loved to be up in space, to be a Green Lantern, drawing felt like coming home to him, like it was the natural state. That being said, he didn’t love being interrupted when he was in the middle of something important—it was bad for the groove.

***

As the second round of knocking sounded on his door, Kyle grunted and stood from his desk, padding through the hallway to his front door; he flicked the lock and pulled open the door, surprise etching across his face when he saw the eldest Wayne leaning against the door frame—rather cockily, Kyle added, because the soldier’s arm was propped on the frame, the other stuck in the side-pocket of his dark tactical bomber jacket.

“Good morning, Kyle,” he greeted with a smirk. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

The Lantern blinked, shaking his head. “Uh, no, you’re not, (Y/N).” he looked at him. “What are you doing here?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Had some business to take care of for my dad, and since I was in the area, I figured I’d drop by and see if you wanted to get some lunch with me.”

Kyle took a moment to lean out the doorway slightly, looking down the stretched hallway. “How’d you know where I live?”

“Please, a magician never reveals his secrets,” he deflected coolly, gazing at Kyle. “What do you say? Wanna get some lunch? I know a really good sports bar that serves great food.”

He looked back at (Y/N) and smiled. “Yeah. Let me go get dressed.”

The soldier merely winked in return and with fumbling hands, Kyle managed to shut the door before his cheeks burst into flames, hurrying back to his bedroom to pull together an outfit that would impress the man.

***

Kyle almost dropped to his knees when he saw the car parked outside his apartment building, and (Y/N) knew it too, because he chirped, “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”

He nodded dumbly. “Is this a McLaren 720S?”

“Mhm.” He opened the doors and slid into the driver’s seat, looking through the passenger door. “Coming?”

“Am I ever,” Kyle breathed, climbing into the seat, immediately running his hands along the dashboard and seat. “I’m in love.”

“Wait till you hear her purr,” (Y/N) said, closing the doors, and pushing the ignition. The sports car roared to life and he grinned at the way Kyle’s face melted. “Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He put the car in drive and looked through the side mirror, then pulled out onto the street.

“Is this one of your dad’s cars?”

“Nah, I bought this for myself a couple months ago.” He pulled the sunglasses from his t-shirt and put them on. “This and an Audi TT.”

Kyle huffed a laugh. “Jesus, you billionaires live it up, don’t you?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Hey, I live life in the fast lane. Might as well drive in it too.” He pushed a button on the touch screen and music filtered through the speakers, and Kyle’s face pinched in confusion. “What?”

“This isn’t—James Blunt isn’t the music I figured you’d play.”

“What’d you think I’d be listening too? Rock?” he chuckled, turning the volume down a bit. “Don’t get me wrong, I listen to all kinds of rock music, but I figured you’d want something easy rather than head-bang your brains out rock.” (Y/N) stopped at a red light and glanced over. “You can look through the artists on my phone if you want.”

Kyle shook his head, relaxing into the seat as the melody flowed through him. “No, I like this artist.” The soldier merely smiled in return, pressing the gas pedal again, and Kyle suddenly remembered something. “Speaking of artist, I saw the canvas in your bedroom the other day. Do you draw?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Not like you. It’s more of a pastime than a lifestyle.”

“You’re good at it. You’re painting your family in their suits. Details and designs included.” The artist regarded him with impression. “That takes skill.”

“I’d like to think I just have a steady hand and a lot of patience for stressful tasks.” (Y/N) turned the wheel, coming up behind a line of cars. “It’s an easy way for me to relax and mentally run through past events.”

“Like what?” Kyle questioned curiously.

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, but not in a loathing way, more of a thoughtful one. “Missions, conversations, things I could’ve done differently, things I will do differently.” He shrugged again. “Painting for me is just a time when I think about everything and nothing.”

“Well, you’re great at it, (Y/N).”

He snorted. “It’s just a bunch of paintings of my family and friends and military shit.”

Kyle blinked and leaned over. “Wait, is that painting in the den—”

“The one of the F-18 Super Hornet?”

“Yeah. You painted that?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yep. I got Hal Jordan to take me up in one a few years ago and decided to commemorate the trip.”

“Wow,” the Lantern breathed. “I stared at that canvas for at least an hour the first time I saw it. I was just so blown away by how amazing it was.” He chuckled and shook his head. “And to find out, you drew it and not some world-famous painter.”

“Hey, I could be world famous if I wanted.” (Y/N) shot back, turning onto a less busy backstreet. “I just choose to retain my talents for family and friends.”

“Because of your job?”

“That too.” He agreed. “My squad and I take careful precautions to avoid our faces being seen during any missions for the safety of our families.” His face turned as solemn as his voice. “We do what we do to make the world safer. To keep our families and friends safe. It’s imperative that we’re not seen.”

Kyle cocked a brow. “But you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?”

“I am,” he nodded. “But I’m not as…out as the rest of my siblings. You’d be able to recognize them from press photos, but me not so much.” (Y/N) pulled into a parking spot outside the bar. “People only recognize me when they see the name on the credit cards. And I prefer to keep it that way.” A goofy smile crossed his lips. “The high life isn’t for me.”

“Says the man that drives a 710 horsepower sports car.” Kyle shot back with a grin of his own and (Y/N) stuck his tongue out as he turned the car off and opened the doors.

“Okay, I’m not actively in the high life but that doesn’t mean I don’t like luxury.” He closed the car doors and opened the front door to the bar for Kyle. “After you.”

“Thank you.” He replied, and walked inside, only stopping to turn and ask, “Do you want to sit at the bar or a table?”

(Y/N) tipped his head to the side. “I’m down with both, but I like the bar more.”

“Bar it is,” Kyle said and slid into one of the chairs, (Y/N) the other, and an older man wandered over.

“Well, I’ll be damned, is that (Y/N) Wayne I see?”

He turned, expression morphing into joy as he reached out and shook the older man’s hand. “Jack, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you son. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, you know me, sir. Nothin’ changing but the weather.”

Jack snorted. “And the desert where you dig sand outta your ass.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Damn straight.” He looked at Kyle. “Kyle, I’d like you to meet Jack Dagher. He’s an old CO of mine.”

Kyle shook the man’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“It’s all mine,” Jack replied. “It’s been a while since (Y/N) brought anybody here.”

At that, Kyle turned to the soldier who was busy looking anywhere but his face. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah. Sonovabitch doesn’t bring his dates here unless he really likes ‘em.”

(Y/N) coughed, glaring at the man. “Alright, we get it. Aren’t you supposed to be taking orders?”

Jack gave him a smug look in return. “What can I get you boys to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Kyle said, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“No shit, kid. What kind?”

(Y/N) snickered as Kyle flushed. “Uh, a Heineken.”

Jack sighed. “And he had such potential. (Y/N)?”

“Gimme a strawberry daiquiri then water after.”

“Still ordering fruity drinks, huh?”

“Hey, they get you drunk faster than horse piss does, you old fart.” He shot back and the old man chuckled.

“Touché.” He slapped the bar. “I’ll bring those to you with an order of chili fries.”

“Thanks Jack,” (Y/N) smiled, watching the man walk off before turning to Kyle who was watching one of the baseball games. “You like sports?”

He tipped his head side to side. “I don’t not like them. I was never a sporty kid in school, but I like watching them.” He looked at the solider. “What were you like in school? Jock or prep?”

“Probably a bit of both,” he answered. “I played sports and had the highest grades.” Shrugging, he added, “And being a Wayne boosted me into the top tier of schools, so, there’s that. To be honest, I think all of us Wayne kids were and are a mixture of every stereotypical category.”

“I can see that,” Kyle laughed. “Especially with Jason and Dick.”

“Shit, I was talking about Timmy.” (Y/N) said. “That kid’s a grade A nerd.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

The two of them laughed and a woman placed their drinks in front of them, both giving their thanks as they took sips.

“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”

“My muscles are one hundred percent real. Especially my abs. Which you’re allowed to feel on in envy if you want.”

Kyle snorted into his beer, wiping his mouth. “No!” a few more chuckles passed his lips as he wiped the bar. “Are you…you know…?”

“A Leo?” (Y/N) offered with a smile, but his eyes told Kyle he knew exactly what the Lantern was asking, and he said, “I like the liquor, but I don’t care what label it has on it.”

The other man smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“But if you want the technical term, I am pansexual.” He regarded Kyle a moment. “You?”

“Bisexual.”

His lips pulled in an impressed fashion. “Pretty fly for a bi guy.”

Kyle gaped at him for a moment, then shoved (Y/N) in the side as he buried his face in his arms and laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

“Ah thank you,” he grinned. “I get it from my old man.”

“You,” he cut himself off with a cackle. “do not get that from him.”

“Look, you know the big man in the suit. You don’t know the complete goober we live with,” (Y/N) chuckled, smiling at the waitress who placed menus in front of them; he picked his up and flipped through it.

“What do you recommend?”

“Hmm…anything with bacon on it.” He showed the menu. “If you like salads, get the steak and blue cheese one, it’s fantastic. Or if you’re more into tacos, they’ve got these awesome shrimp carnitas with chili peppers.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed as he looked the menu over. “What are you gonna get?”

“My usual. Tomahawk steak with garlic butter and mashed potatoes.” (Y/N) groaned and rested his head back. “I haven’t had a good steak in months, and I can just taste it already.”

“So, you’re a meat and potatoes kind of man?”

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed. “Unlike the cup noodle and Hawaiian roll man beside me.”

“Ouch. Hit me where it hurts.”

“C’mon Kyle, hit me with your best shot.”

“Better watch it, (Y/N),” he grinned. “You might be the next notch in my pencil case.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

***

“Holy crap,” Kyle breathed, hands resting lightly on his stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

(Y/N) moaned. “Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”

“Done?” their waitress laughed. “You haven’t even finished your desserts yet!”

“Oh God, don’t make me,” the Lantern whined. “I’ll explode.” He looked over. “(Y/N), take one for the team.”

“Pass,” he replied. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds just looking at the rest of the cheesecake.”

The woman laughed. “I’ll wrap the leftovers for you boys.” She wandered off, leaving them alone, and a blaring ringtone filled the space between.

(Y/N) jumped a little, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind if I get this really quick?”

Kyle shook his head. “Go ahead.”

He slid his thumb along the bottom and rested the phone on the bar. “This is Wayne.”

Captain! Finally. I’ve been texting you all afternoon.

“I know,” he snorted. “I’ve been ignoring it.”

Yeah well, the longer you ignore me the slower it takes for the radar dish to get replaced.

“What are you talking about?” (Y/N) asked. “I thought you’d procured one.”

I did. Then the buyer told me I wasn’t registered for official military hardware.

He frowned. “That’s odd. You did contact Thomas, right?”

Yeah. Beady eyed looking motherfucker who serves on the George Washington, right?

“That’s him.” (Y/N) hummed. “Tell you what, I’ll call him later this evening and get it all sorted out, yeah?”

Sounds good. Hey, did you take that guy out yet? Your little brother won’t stop texting me about some twinkie you’re into.”

(Y/N) froze as he felt Kyle’s eyes drilling into the side of his head and he stuttered, “Uh, Nadeen, now’s not the best time.”

What do you mean best—oh…ohhhhhh. I, uh, I gotta go, Captain.

“Yep. Bye.” He locked the phone and shoved it back into his pocket, refusing to meet Kyle’s eyes. “So…you catch the baseball game?”

“Which one of your brother’s thinks I’m a twink?” Kyle asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. It’s Jason, isn’t it?” he grunted in his throat, deadpanning, “I can’t believe my best friend thinks I’m a twink.”

“It’s Dick, actually.” (Y/N) grinned, turning to face him and he reached over, pinching Kyle’s cheek. “It’s just ‘cause you’re so cute and perky.”

The Lantern merely glared at him, griping, “I’m not as strong as you, put I can punch pretty hard.”

“Ooo, those are fighting words,” he shot back with a smirk, letting Kyle go. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”

“I feel like I’m talking to Hal.”

(Y/N) whined, all but collapsing onto Kyle who started snickering. “I’ve just been murdered.” He buried his face in Kyle’s shoulder. “Can’t believe I was just compared to Highball. The world must be coming to an end.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby. You’re not dying.”

“I am!” he turned his head, gazing at Kyle. “You’ll have to carry me to safety.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I did not say that.”

“You did, but in more words.”

“Alright, now I’m talking to Guy.”

“THAT’S SO MUCH WORSE!”

***

He leaned against the door frame as Kyle unlocked his front door and pushed it open, turning to look at him. “I had a lot of fun today, (Y/N).” he murmured. “Thanks.”

Winking, he replied, “I’m glad you did. I’d like to do it again soon if you want.”

Kyle nodded. “I’d like that.”

They stared at each other for a few moments and (Y/N) smiled, patting the door frame. “Well, I’d better be heading out. Have to get home in time for dinner.” He paused, giving the man a warm look. “Thanks for having lunch with me, Kyle.”

He’d not gotten two feet from the door when Kyle’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Wait.” He turned and the Lantern leaned forward, pressing his lips to (Y/N)’s cheek. “Be careful on your way back.”

“I will,” he murmured, watching Kyle wave and disappear into his apartment, the door shutting behind him.

[yicruz48]

Teen Titans Review #43

July/14/2020.

This issue is the continuation of the Teen Titans (Emiko, Wallace, Roundhouse and Crush) investigating the murder of Brother Blood. 

The issue begins with Damian fighting crime in Gotham City  and collecting data on KG Beast that I believe he uses later in the issue to find him. He is again sputtering insults at Batman’s way of handling things which seems to be his default inner monologue under Robbie Thompson. 

And while I agree Batman methods aren’t the best, it makes Damian seem like a know-it-all that somehow knows more about fighting crime than his father who has spent longer fighting against it. For me personally, this makes Damian to be foolishly ignorant.  

As Damian starts to struggle against his opponents Jon suddenly swoops in to assist him.   

Although I admit I was pleasantly surprised to see Jon appear again in Teen Titans (even if it was aged-up Jon) there is apart of me that felt like this essentially useless to the story. 

Jon expresses his concern for Damian’s future, he confesses that he has heard and seen things while with the Legion that has made him worry about Damian. I’m not sure if this implies Jon knows about what has been going on in the batfamiy or with Teen Titans although it surely confirms Jon is concerned.  

Although not concerned enough to further question if Damian is really okay. What really frustrates me is that a correctly-written Jon would not just settle with, “I am fine, Jonathan,” especially if Damian turned his back on him as he answered (clearly indicating that he wasn’t okay). The real Jon would most likely continue to annoy Damian about what's going on until he confesses. The real Jon would possibly drop everything with the Legion to watch over Damian. 

Unless, (and I hate to say this) this is an indication that Damian and Jon’s friendship is wavering and drifting apart. In other words, what we may be witnessing is the end of their friendship. 

We are then taken back to Mercy Hall where Emiko (Mainly Emiko) and Wallace are analyzing dirt from Brother Blood’s lair to determine the murderer. Before cutting off to Crush and Roundhouse we are told the murderer intentionally left evidence behind to leave a message to the team. This tells us the suspect is connected to the team. 

 While Crush and Roundhouse take down more Blood Cult safe houses they discover new information about Brother Blood’s plans before dying. 

What we find out:

-> Brother Blood wanted to control the whole city with his toxic chemicals. 

-> First on Brother Blood’s hit list was the Teen Titans. Which isn’t surprising since essentially Brother Blood and Black Mask were in Damian’s prison the longest. Its only natural he would want to get revenge on the Teen Titans so much they were first on his list. 

I guess this also highlights that Damian is actually afraid, if he wasn’t fearful that Brother Blood would kill his former team members then he would’ve let Brother Blood let them have it. I guess...thank you for the little compassion Robbie?

The Teen Titans (Emiko, Wallace, Roundhouse and Crush) then regroup to share what information they’ve found. 

As Crush and Roundhouse reveal their findings Emiko reveals the culprit: Damian (surprise, surprise...not really). 

I have to point this out, but one of the things that annoyed me the most of  this issue was that Roundhouse was somehow surprised that Damian killed Brother Blood. Like out all of the Teen Titans Roundhouse should be the least surprised, I mean he was the who literally wanted to pin the team against Damian a few issues (specifically Issue 35 for those wondering):

So I don’t understand why the heck Roundhouse caught off guard by this revelation. I understand Crush, but Roundhouse? I don’t know if this was intentional or not but it made Roundhouse come off as fake and playing the emotion up in his favor. And this ended up making me hate Roundhouse even more than I already did. 

But as much as hate him, I guess he was really saying the truth in issue 35:

“Robin’s got us all thinking that we’ve ‘solved crime. ’But really we’re all just pawns in his creepy obsession with showing up his old man.” 

Because looking at the all the issues Robbie Thompson has collectively written, that is essentially what it seems like. 

 As the Teen Titans rush to get to Damian we see Damian still in Gotham city stalking his next prey; KG Beast. 

 Before we move on, I want to bring attention something that really disturbs me about these panels: 

“But my path was determined by fate. By blood. By Batman himself.” 

Damian is essentially saying here that he was destined to be a killer since birth, because of his legacies, because of his father. This literally goes against everything Gleason wrote in Robin: Son of Batman. Which literally proved that Damian’s upbringings and legacies don’t define him. They are apart of what he is but don’t make him...well him. 

Honestly its devastating how much this trashes Gleason’s and Tomasi’s development.

Also, I am speculating that, “I know the future,” is referring to when Djinn showed Damian what his dream future held. You know the one he shed tears about because it was so beautiful or something? Yea, that one.

Moving on, as Damian is getting closer to make a move on KG Beast (for what essentially happened several months ago) the rest of the Teen Titan’s gang up on Damian. The fight against Damian begins with Roundhouse throwing the first punch. 

Unsurprisingly, Damian manages to avoid anything the Titans throw at him (I say this because if you don’t remember, the Teen Titans haven’t had a chance to train with Damian except Emiko. Although even Emiko can’t take him down).

And motivated by pure blood-thirst and revenge Damian jumps on KG Beast and immediately starts attacking him in order to prove to the Teen Titans what real justice looks like. After again flawlessly moving past the Teen Titans the issue ends with Damian slicing one of KG Beast’s arms. 

Conclusions: 

-> Wouldn’t be surprised if that bit of dirt that Bruce found in Damian’s room was planted there by Damian intentionally in order to lead Bruce to him. Like why not? If we are shitting on Damian’s development might as will pull all the stops. PS: Surprised Bruce called Damian his son . 

-> I hate Roundhouse, I really do. I need Robbie Thompson to at least do me a favor and make Roundhouse go poof like Djinn.

-> At the beginning of the Issue we are told Damian is “at crossroads” between deciding what path he will take. Toward the end of the issue, Emiko tells Damian he’s “crossed the line.” So I am taking a quick guess and assuming Damian has now made his decision which is essentially becoming an anti-hero.

-> I really hate that Damian is essentially pushing his murder agenda on the Teen Titans. As much as I despise Glass at least he wrote Damian as giving the Teen Titans a chance to work with him or not.  

-> Don’t know if you noticed but most of this issue occurred in Gotham City, in other words: Batman’s city. Damian is really looking stupid by attacking KG Beast in Gotham City where Batman could easily bump into him as he makes the final blow. 

-> I truly hate that Damian is wielding his sword. I saw his sword as a symbol as of a ‘new life’ and ‘redemption’ now it seems like a symbol for his regression.

-> A little confused as to how Damian plans to carry out this plan of “eliminating crime”, like with the help of who? He can’t achieve this on his own. And as skilled as Damian is, he’s  not superhuman-enough  for me to believe it could happen. 

-> I’ve been seeing some people on twitter and tumblr claim that Damian didn’t really admit to murder but I personally took it as he did. I can see their side but I don’t know what to think of it besides, ‘I hope that is what it means and I am reading it wrong.” 

-> Like to mention some theories I’ve seen:

- Damian didn’t really say he killed Bother Blood, so him killing is still not confirmed. 

-This Issue mentions Fear a lot,  it might be connected to the fear toxin.

- Djinn is behind Damian’s odd behavior.

-> Something I want to point out that I did not know if it was intentional or not by the artist:

Damian has this original rounded unity belt at the beginning of the issue: 

And then brands a different rectangle utility belt for the rest of the issue:

I don’t know if this was Damian switching belts in order to not be tracked by Bruce or something else...

Also! Please do not move on just yet! Time to stand on my soap box again!

-> This is something I, @wesavegotham​ and @joejimmyjon​ have been discussing:

If you are buying TT issues you need to stop. Please don’t waste your precious money on this comic (plus *cough cough* there is literally websites for you read them for free. Its a bit of wait, spanning about 7-12 hours to be uploaded but this is a way to avoid giving this comic money). Save up your money for Deceased and Gotham Nights. Put your money where it deserves to be spent. Use your money to show DC the comics what your wiling to spend your money for.  

-> Shout out to my fellow twitter Super Son accounts. Continue voicing your frustrations with DC under their posts (constructively of course). It was brought to my attention that my comment, along with some of my mutuals comments were feature in article. Some of them criticizing the unfair treatment of Damian. 

If you don’t have a twitter account, I suggest you get one and join us in voicing our frustrations. 

Okay, I am done now! If you haven't read Gotham Nights #12-13 and Hope at Worlds End GO READ IT NOW!! 

Also I heard Patrick Gleason uploaded some livestreams on Instagram conveniently while we are mourning Damian’s regression.

Really good stories with Damian to cheer you up. All of them one dollar each on comixology.  

[damian-dreamz8442]

Missing in Action Part I

In case y’all haven’t noticed, I write batfam fics, Damian centric, whump or hurt/comfort. So guess what this is? If you guessed a hurt/comfort Batfam fic with the whole batfam going out of their minds trying to find Damian then you get a virtual gold star. 

Now throw that out. There are no gold stars in the real world. 

Anyways, just FYI I’ve only read some of the comics and watched the movies so my timeline is probably complete crap. This is set during Bruce’s ‘death’ when Dick was Batman, but I’m just going to assume that Tim, Jason, Stephanie and Cass were all still around somewhere, so yeah they’re in this story. I like the big family dynamic, ok?

IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT:

I know the Joker is either dead or not really a problem (in arkham? Insane?) in the timeline where Damian is Robin and Bruce is dead but we’re going to make this an AU for the Worry purposes. 

It should’ve been a routine patrol, so why did Dick have reason to worry? He never should’ve let down his guard. Maybe if he hadn’t made a promise to Damian for ice cream after patrol, his little brother would’ve been on higher alert. Maybe then the clowns that jumped out of the shadows wouldn’t have been able to knock him out and make off with the littlest robin. 

Dick Grayson was a man prone to worry. His heart raced, his brain hiccuped, he almost had to pull over to avoid throwing up in the Batmobile. 

It was his and Dami’s night to patrol, finally, after Dick had been in bed with a broken wrist for days. Even Gotham seemed to notice the duo’s good mood and gave them a beautiful, peaceful night to enjoy. It was night’s like those when Dick didn’t mind the cowl as much - and even then, he couldn’t help but see Bruce in his own shadow. 

“Hey, Robin,” Dick paused, dropping into a dark alley and turning to his partner, “what do you say we take a break after this?” 

“Tt,” came Damian’s customary response, “isn’t that highly unprofessional, Batman?” 

Dick gestured to the calm air and the sparkling stars, almost visible despite the thick canopy of smog. “I don’t think we’ll be missed.” 

Of course, false hope for the bat family was karma’s calling card, and she reared her ugly head not a second later. 

Dick noticed looming figures appear at the end of the alleyway just as Damian spun at the sound of footfalls behind them. They were hemmed in by six thugs at least. Large ones. 

As the goons lumbered towards them, Batman and Robin armed themselves back to back. One of the figures stepped into the light - if you could call it that - and Damian bristled at his appearance. Thick clown makeup marred his face, sinister eyes leering at him. 

Eight in total hemmed them in, with clubs and other blunt objects. That was almost worse than knives or guns; weapons made to kill. It was obvious these adversaries had other plans for them. 

During the fight, Damian made a mistake. It almost never happened, but he let instincts and impatience takeover. He launched himself onto the shoulders of one of the goons, dispatching him. Damian didn’t even notice he had left Dick open to an attack from behind, without so much as a warning. 

A club crashed down on Batman’s head, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. Damian heard the undignified thump and realized his error, yelling a string of curses in arabic. 

Dick was harder to take down then he looked, but heavily concussed with two goons sitting on his back would do it. They took off his utility belt and tossed it aside, laughing as he sluggishly clawed at their weight. 

Dick was forced to watch as the rest of the thugs that remained standing went after his baby brother. Four large men with short range blunt weaponry shouldn’t have been this difficult, Damian knew. However his mind was betraying him, racing with thoughts of his mistake and his brother’s well being. 

A well placed two-by-four and a hard swing later, Damian crumpled to the cobblestones. 

“No,” Dick groaned, reaching for his robin, “leave him alone!” He shoved again at the crushing weight on his back but he had no leverage, and could barely tell up from down. 

One of the men picked up Damian and slung him over a shoulder. The other three sneered down at the fallen Batman, snarling at them like a wild animal. 

“We don’t need this one,” A man sitting on Dick’s back said, “but we aren’t supposed to kill him.”

“I’d like to,” the one holding Damian laughed, “but my hands are full!” He made a point at jostling Damian. Dick’s heart wrenched at the sound of his littlest brother’s groan. 

Following a round of laughter, they knocked Dick out. 

Dick woke to a horrifying scene. Damian was gone, the goons were gone, it was over an hour later. Dick’s head was pounding, blood sticking to his neck, rushing in his ears. A jack-in-the-box sat on the sidewalk in front of him. Dick crawled towards it, fumbling to get it open, fingers numb. It popped right out of his grip, and he nearly flinched. A tinny laugh rang from the contraption as a clown face wobbled on the end of a spring. As if Dick didn’t know it was the Joker as soon as he saw the goons. 

The Joker had Damian. Dick suddenly felt very, very cold.

Joker’s thugs really were imbeciles, Damian thought as he came too. First of all, he was being carried like a sack of flour, giving him full access to the large man’s vulnerable back. Second, his utility belt was still on his waist. Can’t get good help these days. 

Damian felt warm and wet liquid in his hair, undoubtedly blood, but not enough to concern him. 

Somehow the lugs had climbed a building on third street, only ten blocks from the scuffle. Damian let his head bounce to the side as the man walked to get a glimpse at the moon. He bit back a sigh as he realized he’d been out for almost half an hour. He was pathetic, letting a little hit to the head do him in so swiftly for so long. At least the overabundance of incompetence from Joker’s group made up for some of his clearly unacceptable failings. 

A plan of action was slowly turning in Damian’s brain, and he cursed his own weakness - silently - as a headache began pounding a steady beat. His thoughts were sluggish, so he finally decided to just let the idiots take him back to their lair. It involved the least amount of work for him. He could turn on his tracker when he got there and maybe take down the Joker in the rescue attempt. 

Damian counted another fifteen minutes had passed before their van came into view. It was then that Damian’s brain caught up with the situation. Sure, the thugs were feckless moron’s, but it was obvious their plan was well thought through. They had been waiting for Damian and Dick, meaning they’d probably been following them for a few blocks at least. Somehow they’d managed to go undetected. They worked together to accomplish their goal. Their getaway van was nowhere near the scene, in case Batman or Robin managed to get out a distress call. 

Robin realized he was not dealing with common thugs, but men who worked for the Joker; a psychopath who was one of the few people to actually cause Batman difficulty. Even beat him. Even kill a robin. 

Damian didn’t have time for subtlety. He grabbed a birdarang and sliced the man carrying him all the way up the back. Flipping off him, Damian landed in a spray of blood and shocked yells. Seven goons were suddenly running at him, but they were unarmed. Their blunt weapons had to be discarded to climb several buildings on their trip, and they hadn’t been valuable enough to keep on person anyways. Damian had been counting on their weapons just being conveniently found refuse. 

Jumping to the side, Damian unsheathed the katana on his back, slashing a them non-lethally. His concussion made him slow, they were closing in. Damian jumped down the building, vaulting down the fire escape. They followed him, much slower, as he ran across the street. 

Damian realized too late he’d ran down a dead end, with their van just across the street. They had picked up some weapons by now, though they were cut and bleeding, they were ever the more sinister. 

The fire escape of the apartment building at least gave him the higher ground, which he used to slash at the goons and keep them at bay. He kicked at their heads, even resorting to hissing at them like a wild animal. They got in a few hits, which Damian attributed to his slowness from being concussed. 

He felt a rib crack as he was caught in the side with a metal bat, too distracted trying to keep one from grabbing his ankles through the bars to notice another climbing the ladder. 

One of them had gotten a butcher’s hook from somewhere - probably a garbage can, gross - and used it to slash at Damian’s calves and arms. A hand closed around his ankle as Damian tried to defend himself, yanking him onto his back. He heard a loud pop and yelled as his ankle was dislocated, maybe even broken. 

A last burst of energy was all Damian had left, but he gave them hell. He was surprised to find the adrenaline clearing, leaving him in an alleyway with eight unconscious, bloody thugs. 

Damian only managed to get a few buildings away before he collapsed on a roof, bleeding and sore. He pulled out his communicator and balked at the smashed metal. Broken. Useless. Not unlike him at the moment. Damian groaned, flopping on the roof. 

Damian had no idea if Dick was where they’d left him, or if Dick was even alright. He had no way of contacting his older brother, the batcave, anyone. His grappling hook was nowhere to be found, his tracker was cleaved in half from the hit from the bat, and his phone was completely out of batteries. 

So... he was walking home. On a dislocated - maybe broken - ankle. Damian let out a long suffering sigh and got to his feet. 

Ten minutes before his minions were supposed to arrive back at base, the Joker got a call from one of them. 

“Yes, Dave?”

“Oh, actually my name-”

“Speak!” 

“Right, well... the kid got away.” 

“The... the little kid. Robin. The itsy bitsy can’t-be-more-than-fourteen-years-old Robin.” Joker punched the nearest person as it was affirmed that, yes, his well-briefed goons had lost the punk. Weeks of planning, wasted. 

“Get back here so I can disembowel you myself!” Joker growled. The kid getting away would definitely put a damper on the fun he had planned. But maybe it wasn’t a total loss. 

Dick was looking for clues and searching nearby alleys, trying not to get too distracted by his all-encompassing worry. He’d already called Alfred and not only had their been no word from Damian but both his tracker and communicator were out of commission. 

As Dick sprinted across the street for the fifth time, thinking he saw a glint in the trash, the phone booth rang. It was odd to even still have phone booths, let alone have them ring with no one around to answer. Dick picked up the receiver on the last ring. 

“Batman, I hope?” A sickeningly familiar voice leered. Dick seethed, it had been a long time since he’d heard that voice, but he would never forget it. Joker took his silence for an answer. 

“I have your Robin, in case you were wondering. I see you got another upgrade. A shiny new version. Adorable!” Dick let out a low growl, sounding more like Bruce than usual, “Don’t touch him.” 

“Oh, did you want him back? Already?” Dick clenched his fist, trying not to break the phone before he heard whatever sick game Joker wanted to play. 

“Good news for you, then! He’s waiting for you, in the place your little birdies go to die.” The Joker hung up, and Dick was panicking again. Where did robins go to die? The park? Was there some communal bird cemetery in Gotham? Was Joker planning to kill Damian? Dick needed to get answers, asap. He needed backup.  

So since I did a lot of explaining already, I’m just going to end this with a friendly goodbye and a reminder that I understand this story does not follow the plot of the comics probably at all? It’s ok guys, I’m not writing for accuracy. 

[deadmomjokes]

So I finally got to watch the Extended Edition Lord of the Rings

And I have SO MANY THOUGHTS

First of all, I had no idea how rushed the theatricals felt until I saw what the Extendeds did for pacing and development. They felt like completely different films, and looking back on the theatricals (which I love/loved) I’m surprised things made sense given what the extendeds added.

(tons more under the cut, I have Too Many Thoughts and Feelings rn)

Second, there were some things I could have lived without:

-The Entwine scene was cute, I suppose, as was the food/pipeweed-finding scene, but I felt personally that it didn’t add too much in terms of development and narrative. Sure, it shows Merry and Pippin being funloving cousins together. But it just felt a bit off in terms of pacing and feel in the surrounding scenes.

-I was ambivalent on the extra scenes inside the Paths of the Dead. The skull avalanche was just... Ok? (I enjoyed the part immediately after they got out and saw the ships, that was fine.)

-I really didn’t appreciate or enjoy the scene of the Witchking shattering Gandalf’s staff, either; I get they were trying to give Gandalf reason to doubt himself and his judgement, but really? It makes ZERO sense for the Witchking to be stronger than Gandalf the White. They don’t bring it up later at all, or say why it’s so significant, and it throws off the timing. The Witchking flies off from Gandalf because he see’s Rohan’s approach; but then it takes another 10 minutes for him to show up at the battle and get Theoden? Did he take a Starbucks break? Who could have possibly delayed him, if he was so much stronger than Gandalf? Altogether a bad scene (and makes no sense because Gandalf is a reincarnated Angel at this point so... Yeah, not happy).

-The discussion with Saruman at Isengard was great, but the utter overkill of him impaling on the wheel was just bizarre. It was almost comical, and not in a way it should have been. Also, way, WAY overkill. Too much. In a film full of death, that was excessive. I loved having the talk with him, and him dying was fine, but the spiky wheel and subsequent drowning just seemed out of place.

-I also didn’t care for the additions to the battle action scenes (not the aftermath parts, those were stunning). For the most part, they felt a bit superfluous. The one exception to that was the battle of Pelennor, and all they added with Eowyn and Merry. Those were great!

Third, and more importantly, there were TONS of scenes I adored, aka everything else. And I am SO angry they took it all out. I would give up whole battles if they had left in these scenes. I mean REALLY, who decided which ones to cut, because they clearly didn’t see the same film I did. They cut all the best parts, all the best acting, things that made everything come together, and most importantly, scenes of massively important character building. Here are some of the ones I loved most, and why I’m angry they cut them:

-The one I’m most angry about, all the Faramir scenes. They chopped the one scene that explained literally EVERYTHING he did and why. That family scene not only developed Boromir posthumously, it showed why Faramir acted like such a jerk, and why he ultimately turned. That was not at all explained in the theatricals. In the theatricals, he’s a random, shallow jerk who turns for no reason. With just the 5 minutes that scene took, he is shown to be complex and a deeply damaged child of abuse who lost the one person who believed in him. And it also explains the “A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show is quality” line. Which was odd without context. Also, the end scene of TT where Faramir talks to the hobbits and Gollum about their next steps. Dang that was good. I’m just angry that literally every good, important Faramir scene got cut.

-All the scenes in early Fellowship they cut. The bits showing Bilbo was acting out-of-character. Frodo is worried, Gandalf is worried, Bilbo has a panic attack over the ring. All great stuff that made things make more sense (if you aren’t going into it with background knowledge).

-The scenes they cut of Boromir acting like a normal person, making his betrayal more upsetting. In the theatricals, he is reduced to an annoying, prideful jerk who is taken by the Ring from day one. With the new scenes, he is shown to be a truly complex character who is really trying to do the right thing, but is just misguided and scared. Especially the scenes of him talking with Aragorn. I love the argument they have for another reason, too, which ties in with this next one

-Just that little bit of Galadriel showing Nenya to Frodo. It shows that she knows what it’s like being a Ringbearer. So Frodo is more likely to take her advice, and think she knows what’s best. She tells him he has to be alone, and that his presence will break the Fellowship and ruin the people he cares about. And then we see that stuff happening. Frodo tries to shut himself off from the others, but he can tell Sam is hurt by it. And then he hears Aragorn and Boromir arguing and the Fellowship starting to break. That cements his decision to go alone, especially after the previously kind Boromir attacks him and is clearly under the Ring’s influence.

-All the extra scenes of Frodo. It rounds him out even more, and shows how the Ring affects him emotionally as well as physically. Also all the early scenes make Frodo into a strong, caring, perceptive character; in the theatricals, he goes from happy party boy to depressed child in 3 scenes flat. All the new extended and added scenes show a more complex person, and smooth the transition in a way that makes it feel more organic. Also it showcases some of Elijah Wood’s best acting. I’m salty at how many truly great scenes they cut.

-The scenes that show more of how Aragorn is afraid to accept his destiny. The bit with his mom’s grave was especially powerful. It’s a beautiful arc, and it’s just not utilized that well (really at all) in the theatricals.

-The scene of Frodo and Sam in Mordor. Even while the Ring is actively trying to get found, and is doing everything it can to break Frodo, Frodo still has enough presence of mind to think his way out of the situation. It just underscores how dangerous the Ring is, and how truly strong Frodo is, making it all the more shocking and upsetting and heartbreaking when he ultimately gets taken by it. A lot of scenes showed how strong, smart, and deeply emotional Frodo was, but this one in particular just clinches it for me. I’m so mad they took it out.

-Eomer finding Eowyn. DANG talk about acting. Good grief that about killed me. Eomer doesn’t get much in the way of development (not everyone can), but that was next-level, and gave a lot to him in terms of rounding. Especially after that scene where he’s talking to Eowyn about Merry, but really meaning it for her because he knows her.

The more I think about everything I just witnessed, the harder it is getting to pick out exactly which scenes were most important and impactful for me, because they really make it a completely different experience. Certain arcs and themes are more fully developed (Aragorn becoming who he was born to be, Faramir escaping the toxic cycle that ultimately killed Boromir, Pippin finding his courage, Frodo clinging to hope with Gollum as his own sanity and health start slipping, Sam’s important position as an anchor for Frodo, Eowyn clinging to Aragorn and learning to pull herself away from her past fantasies and ideas of valor, Frodo remaining as strong as humanly/hobbitly possible even far into Mordor... All the things). There were very, VERY few scenes comparatively speaking that I wasn’t angry as heck about their removal. Every single scene with the exception of the few I mentioned at the beginning was, in my opinion, necessary for the full, complete story and experience. I am shocked at how I went this long without having the whole picture. I honestly don’t plan on watching the theatricals anymore. They’re just not complete to me now that I’ve seen everything else.

Also, a few highlights from this binge watch with the husband:

-Lots of pausing at every new scene and hollering about how mad we are that it was cut.

-Too many jokes about Weed.

-Smacking each other in the leg every time an extended or added scene comes on and going “OOH, NEW!!!”

-Choking on a croissant when Frodo asked Gandalf which direction Mordor was I DIE it was so cute!

-Being personally offended that they took out Boromir’s Lorien scenes.

-Having to get up and walk away when we heard the “show his quality” line in the TT scene with Faramir and Denathor. I literally went into the kitchen to scream into a dish towel.

-“Well Frodo just basically spends the whole third movie in a state of dissociation, and this is where it starts.” -My husband’s very astute analysis when they get to Osgiliath. Have dissociated, can confirm.

-Huddled together on the couch screeching loudly at Sam’s line to Faramir about showing his quality (we had Too Many Faramir Feels, y’all).

-Gasping so hard at Sam pulling Frodo out of a #Moment where he realizes he’s probably going to die that I gave myself an asthma attack

-Staying up til midnight last night griping over and over again at how they DARED TAKE THESE SCENES OUT I know I keep saying it but I am never going to be over it

-My husband recoiling in shock and both of us scooby-doo-style-clinging to each other when Eomer screams upon finding Eowyn.

-Going full-scale football-fan cheering and hollering when Aragorn goes to face down the Palantir and taunt Sauron. Followed quickly by panicked shrieking when the necklace shatters.

-Legit gagging at the Mouth of Sauron scene. Homeboy need some Ultrabrite and about 12 gallons of Listerine. I swear I could smell it. I see why they took it out, no theater worker deserves to clean up pools of patron vomit.

-Totally lost it at “Smeagol Lied.”

-I have not cried at these films in 15 years but dang if it didn’t get me this time around hoo boy

[martinlawless]

CC Ashwell Grass Track Club Championship 2019

Ashwell Grass Track, Smallgains, Ashwell Monday 1 July 2019

A lovely, warm July evening saw the inaugural Club Grass Track Championship at Ashwell. Long overdue and a bit of an oversight not to have one until now. Ashwell are lucky enough to have their own 333m grass track facility and enjoys a good base of riders who find this side of the sport appealing. Identical to track racing: but harder going, therefore slower. And, seasonal, of course.

I’m feeling rough. I’ve had a virus the last two days and an earlier gym session sort of worked to help move it on, but sort of made things worse too. I feel exhausted and find myself huffing and sighing all day. I take a paracetamol and that helps. I also take a folding chair down to the track as well as a nice warm winter layer, as I know in between races in tonight’s omnium, I’ll be wanting to sit down.

I arrive late, but I don’t fret as I’ve cycled about while commuting and the lunchtime gym session is still within the metabolism. It’s an omnium of a Kilo TT Sprint, 5km race (15 laps), 2 Lap Sprint race (Qualifiers and final), Devil and mystery race to finish.

My rival is Iain. A top club rider and more often than not beating me. Here was an unknown: illness had kept me off riding in anger for five days. So ill, but with fresh legs. Interesting.

The Kilo felt awful. In the nice warm sunshine and slightly unusual NW breeze, the legs felt a bit dead, and the third lap really hurt the lungs. Anyway: 1km in 1:37-something. That’s OK.

Iain went soon after and bagged 1:36. Well done Iain. He takes the lead.

Next, the 5km race. 15 laps. A decent lick along the heavy track ensues. The weather had been warm and wet the last few weeks. The grass felt strong and knobbly. Quite hard, especially out of the racing line – in the wilds. Dave W puts in a big gap up front straight away. No surprise there then. Me, Iain and Dave H do a fair bit of work on the front to hold him. Sort of. But after a few laps, he’s established quite a gap. Like half a lap. I can feel endurance in the legs: but worry if I hesitate too long, he’ll be beyond the catch. Around half way through the race and on the ‘climb’ I put the hammer down, knowing it will be sort of a pursuit race between me, Dave and Iain from about here. I dare not look back for Iain while I give it welly. After 10-15 seconds I take a peek. No Iain, or at least he’s slow off the mark. Turns out: he was boxed in and couldn’t take my tail. I wasn’t expecting that.

I sort of ease back a little and think I will let Iain catch up and we can work together to chase Dave. But I see how big a gap I have and catch a glimpse of Iain to tell me he’s really trying. So, far out – maybe five laps to go – I make a plan to go more solo. I grind Iain down a bit but let him get close. Then with three or four bike lengths to go, I give it full gas, eyes-forward, in the hope I’ll break his resolve.

This burst makes me catch Dave quickly. It catches him off guard. I consider working with Dave to take Iain out and try for a sprint between us. But I have too much momentum to throw away and go right through him. I figure with three laps to go and an almost identical result against Iain in the Kilo beforehand, I should be able to hold him off.

It all works and Dave can’t find the extra speed, and Iain appears phlegmatic with the gap too big to close. A win for me, Iain second, Dave third.

The Sprint qualifier comes around after a recovery few minutes. I get a great push from Dan. I stay behind Iain and take the win for qualification to the final.

The Devil next. A bit confusing for a while. It’s hard to take a good look back, while concentrating on the front. But people must have been dropping off well in advance of the line, so we were ushered over the line often while many riders were eliminated. So sort of unstressful on every lap line for a while. Tim D puts in a storming effort with his smooth souplesse style. Eventually it grinds down to a 3-way sprint. I take Iain again. Mighty close though.

The Sprint final comes next. Iain is a fantastic sprinter with a great start. On the first bend, he makes a break. Ordinarily, I’d be done. But the wind is playing in my favour and inhibits his push. I manage to claw back on to his wheel. I put a lot of faith in my skinny Kenda Karvs on the final bend, but they hold, and take Iain on the line.

The mystery round is a Pace Devil thing. Paced like a Keirin all the way so we are never allowed to overtake the pacer. Archie randomly puts in sprints and slows down. Fun, it a bit of a mess. Somehow, I win. A good training race.

The points are tallied. I win, Iain 2nd, Dan H a magnificent 3rd. Vince, just off the podium in 4th much to his comical chagrin. 11 riders in total. Including Jenny as the only Lady racer brave enough to pin a number on: so a deserved Ladies champion all the same.

The best bit ensues: the picnic and drinks break out. As the sun sets, it’s all jokes and bants and war stories. This is summer.

[autumnhobbit]

Tim and Dami prompt, what about the family is in the manor, and there's a really nasty thunderstorm. And Dami isn't used to them, cause where he's from they don't really have thunder and lightning so he freaks out. And he's used to running to Dick, so he does but he goes into Tim's room instead, just kind of dives in the bed with Tim. And after the usual posturing Tim lets him settle in and when they're asleep they cuddle. Dick goes looking for Dami, finds them and ends up leaving them alone

The colossal crash of the entire world shaking on its axis woke Damian in a panic, and Alfred the cat went running off, screeching the whole way. Damian felt immediately guilty for that; Titus was bouncing around on his toes, suddenly awoken from his own slumber. Aside from that, his room was empty.

Blinding light sliced in through the glass and turned the space into a chiaroscuro of sharp lines and jagged shadows, and only a split second later the window rattled with the force of the thunder. Damian was out of his bed and halfway down the hall before he realized he had moved.

His feet slowed suddenly, and he staggered, the rug getting caught up beneath his feet as he skidded to a pause. Grayson’s closed door stood in front of him. He wanted more than anything to go running in and curl up in the safety of his older brother’s side, but…he couldn’t bring himself to. He swallowed hard, pain joining the fear in the staccato beat of his heart. He went two strides towards Father’s room, but then paused; Father was injured and still down in the Cave, on oxygen and an IV.

A huge gust of wind howled outside, the frame of the house whining, and another boom rattled the window. Damian pivoted and ran down the hall, bursting into another room and leaping into the bed.

“What the–!” Tim yelped hoarsely as Damian landed beside him, missing him by inches. “What–?”

“Shut up, Drake,” Damian bit out, his voice shaking. The idea of going back to his room to lick his re-opened wounds and to sleep off his embarrassment in peace was tempting, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Tim sighed. He pushed himself up on his elbow, and got a firm grasp on the blanket, tugging it from beneath Damian’s stiff form. He then flipped the corner up, and Damian scrambled beneath it. Tim tucked it over him with another stifled sigh.

“It is kind of scary. Should pass over soon, though.” He eased himself back down onto his back. “I checked the radar. Not any tornado risk or anything.”

“Tt.” Damian muttered. “As if I would be afraid of a tornado.”

Yeah, well with what you’ve seen in life, a tornado is child’s play. Tim bit his tongue, sighing. “You didn’t go with Dick?” He asked, unnecessarily.

Damian shook his head, his bangs tickling Tim’s arm.

Tim sighed again.

There was a beat where the only noise came from outside.

“He lied to me,” Damian said in a tiny voice. “He lied to us.”

Tim closed his eyes. “I know.”

“He can’t just step back in and act like nothing changed, when he, he–” Damian’s voice was rising with broken anger. “He wasn’t here! W-we needed him and he wasn’t–”

“Yeah,” Tim said quietly.

Another pause.

“He…he was my Batman.” Damian whispered brokenly, and Tim felt Damian’s lashes brushing his arm as the boy blinked rapidly. “I thought he trusted me. I thought he…” the child gulped. “I thought he loved me.”

“Gah, Damian.” Tim groaned, rolling onto his side to face the sniffling lump under the blanket. “He does love you.”

“Why would he d-do that if he did?” Damian demanded hotly, voice wet. “Mother lied to me. That’s not h-how love is supposed to work.”

“No, it’s not.” Tim agreed. “But sometimes it just winds up that way. People make mistakes, Damian. Even when they really do care. That doesn’t make what they did okay, but…”

Damian turned his head, and flipped the blanket up so his face was showing. “But what?” He grumbled, his face tear-streaked and his button nose red. He would have looked comical if he didn’t look so genuinely wrecked, and Tim swallowed hard.

“Look. He loves you. I know you love him, or you wouldn’t be so upset. Just…you don’t have to forgive him right away. Maybe just…give him the chance to make it up to you. Okay?”

Damian puzzled it over for a moment, brow wrinkled. Tim sighed a bit and closed his eyes. He was still tired, actually…

“What about you?” Damian demanded out of nowhere.

Tim’s eyes blinked back open, and rolled to glance at Damian. The boy looked indignant and still quite angry. “What?” Tim asked, feeling kind of brain dead. Goshdarn three in the morning.

“Aren’t you angry?”

“Hell yes,” Tim responded instantly. “I’m fucking furious with him. You are aware I haven’t spoken to him either, beyond the initial shoutfest.”

“And?” Damian prodded.

“And I’m probably not going to forgive him at any point in the next month, at least, barring any life-or-death crises,” Tim shrugged. “I’ll probably eventually bury my resentment back in the corner of my brain that’s activated by lack of sleep or caffeine.”

Damian wrinkled his nose. “So, you never forgive anyone?”

Tim shrugged. “Guess it depends on your definition of forgiveness. I don’t forget what people did to me, per se, and I definitely don’t stop being angry about it, but…dude. If I went around angry all the time at everyone who’s wronged me, I’d never speak to anyone in this entire city, ever. Except maybe Alfred.”

Damian seemed vaguely startled by this statement, and then a little dejected, dropping his gaze to the bedsheet and slumping down a bit. Tim realized that that statement would probably include Damian, and he stifled a groan of frustration and went on. “It’s just a sucky way to function, Damian. You have to move on at some point or you’ll never get anything done. You either resign to hate Dick for the rest of your life, or you resign to find a way to forgive him. Those are the options.”

Damian curled on his side and sniffled, freeing one fist to scrub at his bright red nose. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Well right now, I kind of want to sleep.” Tim said tiredly. He patted Damian’s hand, and rolled over, tugging a bit more slack in the blanket. “You don’t have to decide right away, Damian,” he said sleepily over his shoulder.

“…I suppose,” Damian mumbled after a minute, when Tim was already half-asleep. There was a rustling noise as the boy settled down in the blankets.

____

Dick wandered out of his room a few minutes before the sun rose, having woken up around an hour before and been unable to get back to sleep. He stepped quietly over the squeaky spots as he wandered down the hallway, tracing his hand lightly along the wall. He hadn’t been home in so long, and there were times he’d wondered if he’d ever see it again. Odd, he reflected, as he ran his fingertips along the edge of a small rip in the wallpaper that had somehow escaped Alfred’s notice. He somehow felt it should have changed, but everything was the same.

He paused in front of Damian’s bedroom door, which was shut. He swallowed hard. Damian was afraid of thunderstorms; it was a fact he’d discovered early on in the boy’s run as Robin, and in his first days at the Manor. He’d thought about Damian last night, as the rain pounded on the rooftop, but he’d been too cowardly to go and check on him and get the door slammed in his face. He knew he deserved it, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear, especially when he’d missed Damian so much.

He hesitated for a moment. He could lean in and check on Damian, at least. He was probably still asleep. He could just peek in and make sure Damian was okay, then make his escape and go downstairs for breakfast or go down to the Cave to train, or something. His days seemed so much emptier when none of his siblings were willing to talk to him. Swallowing, he carefully grasped the handle to Damian’s door and turned it, cautiously sticking his head inside.

Damian’s bed was empty.

Oh great. Dick felt his pulse speeding up. Damian had a tendency to hide when he was upset, and with Bruce hurt and Alfred occupied, he could be anywhere by now. He pivoted and hurried towards Tim’s room. Tim was still mad at him, but he didn’t think Tim would refuse to help if it was about Damian. He pushed through the door quickly–

And came to a full stop as he saw Damian curled on his side, a pressure mark from the wrinkled bedclothes worn into his round cheek, his expression peaceful as he slept. Tim was rolled on his side, an arm thrown across Damian’s small body, holding him on the bed, protective.

Dick swallowed hard, unsure of whether he should feel warmed or chilled. He felt a mix of both, honestly. He loved both his younger brothers so much; it hurt to see them hate each other when they started off. He’d tried. He knew he hadn’t done anywhere near a good enough job, but he’d tried to fix their relationship as best he could, keep them from killing each other while trying to teach them to get along.

And now they both hated his guts. But…at least they were getting along.

Silently, he took a step into the room, leaving the door open behind him. He quietly moved towards the bed, and grasped the blanket, which had been dislodged somehow over the course of the night, and pulled it up and tucked it over Damian and Tim. He leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to Damian’s cheek, and to Tim’s temple. Then he straightened up and headed back into the hallway, casting a wistful glance behind him.

He hoped….he hoped, that someday, by some miracle, his little brothers would forgive him. He missed them so much, it hurt, and being in the same house made it even more painful. But for now, it was probably best just to leave them be.

(Ao3 link here.)